Автора, к сожалению, не знаю.
Tag: stevebucky
Bucky trying to make sense of his memories:
*points at Natasha:* I’ve slept with you.
*points at Steve* Have I slept with you?
Steve shakes his head and babbles something.
Bucky pats Steve’s chest. “We’ll fix that.”
For gyzym, who wanted something lighthearted about Bucky leaving things for Steve.
It’s not her fault this is not quite what she asked for.
Steve’s coffee is hot.
This is not to say that this taken on its own is an earth-shattering observation, except, he’s not sure when or if he made it.
“Hey,” Steve asks Sam, when he comes back from the bathroom, “did you make coffee?”
Sam gives him a strange, searching kind of look. “No,” he says slowly, as if waiting for Steve to contradict him and give him enough evidence to form a diagnosis of insanity.
“Right.” Steve is still, in fact, standing in his running gear. The only thing that has changed since they walked in the door and Sam called dibs on the first shower is that Steve is holding his favourite mug in his hand, and it is mysteriously full of hot coffee he doesn’t remember making.
He takes an experimental sip. It tastes fine, not noticeably different from how he usually takes it.
“Did you sleep okay?” Sam asks, eyeing him carefully.
Steve shrugs. There isn’t really an easy answer to that question. “Not too badly.”
“Well, if you ran hard enough to forget making coffee then I guess I feel a little better about you lapping me six times. Did you make enough for me?” Sam looks around the kitchen, spots the pot steaming on the counter, and grins. “Thanks.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, leaves it there for a second before going to pour himself a cup.
Steve looks at the mug in his hand, wondering if they left the window open on the way out too.
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