Top Bucky Barnes Oneshots (smut and fluff)

#1 This Isn't Summer Heat (smut)

By KidDynamite090 on Archive of Our Own

"Well shit."

The dead summer heat and mugginess finally did it. Anytime the weather was extreme the power had a chance to go out. The tiny slice of Brooklyn shared by Steve and Bucky managed to get through most of the day, but now as the evening approached their lights and few electronics had finally failed.

"Figures this would happen on my day off," Bucky huffed.

"Oh, don't complain." Steve said as he put his drawing pad down on the kitchenette table, "Makes it hotter in here."

Bucky scoffed. Every window in their little tenement apartment was open and if you stood in just the right spot at just the right time you might be lucky enough to feel a hot breeze. It wasn't much, but it was moving air. As uncomfortable as it was, they both knew it was better than winter where they'd risk no power, no heat and limited to shivering under every blanket they had.

The day had been good, stifling heat aside. Since it was Bucky's day off it was just he and Steve. It was too hot to do much of anything or spend too much time outside, but they kept each other entertained. It was Bucky's first day off in a while, so he was happy to loaf around. When the power went out Steve was working on some sketches. Nothing in particular. It started with some perspective practice while he occasionally told Bucky to stop taking ice from the icebox.

Bucky walked over to the radio that was playing just a few moments ago and turned the dial to its off position. He bent over slightly causing Steve to stop his sketching. Catching a good angle, he flipped his pad to a fresh page and began a rough sketch of Bucky fiddling with the radio. It was just messy lines with no real detail or depth. When he was done with the radio Bucky ran a hand through his hair. His fingers glided easily through the thick strands. He hadn't bothered to use pomade since they'd be in all day. Steve started a new sketch on the same page as Bucky walked to the living room window. He was complaining, but Steve didn't hear the individual words. Steve was too focused on his sketch.

In addition to skipping the pomade, Bucky wasn't wearing a proper shirt. He just spent the day in his sleeveless undershirt and trousers. Add two days of dark stubble on his face and he was roguishly handsome. Just a few years of dock work had made Bucky strong. He was never lanky, but unloading boxes for a living developed his muscles well. Steve skillfully added some shadows to the face of his sketch and added definition to the arms.

As he shaded a part of his sketch's bicep, he thought about what it looked like when the real Bucky lifted something heavy. The veins in Bucky's arms would press against his skin and bulged at the surface. The first time Steve really took notice was when Bucky was moving some furniture into their apartment. It was such a simple sight, but Steve had never seen anything like it.

Steve was so enthralled with his art that he didn't notice Bucky come up behind him.

"Whatcha drawing? That me?"

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin and instinctively put his hand over the page in a feeble attempt to cover his work.

"Why are you trying to hide that?" Bucky asked as he peered over Steve's shoulder.

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve sighed, "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Well, you weren't paying attention so I figured you were really involved in something."

"Do I really need to pay attention to your whining?"

"Hey," Bucky whined as he gently pushed one of Steve's hands off the page, "I ain't whining. I was complaining. But never mind that, let's see this."