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CW: All gas, no breaks. Hurt/comfort smut, soft!dark-ish!dom!Bucky, pet names, biting, size kink, wound stitching, asthma attacks (I actually have chronic severe asthma, so I went into detail about this), descriptions of blood and gore.
*laughs nervously* wow, this really got away from me... 11,417 words.
Enjoy and please vote and comment!
"I wanted to touch him, to tell him that even if everyone left everyone, I would never leave him, he talked and talked, his words fell through him, trying to find the floor to his sadness." ― Jonathan Safran Foer, "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close"
SOMEWHERE NEAR THE RUSSIA-UKRAINIAN BORDER
"Tony, I told you, I don't need to be serenaded to sleep," Steve snarls as he shifts on the moth-eaten mattress in the apartment he's taken shelter in.
"Come on, I haven't even gotten through Tom Jones's Greatest Hits yet!"
"Tony, I'm gonna break into your panic room and kill you myself if you don't shut the hell up," Sam's exasperated voice sighs.
There's no blanket, but Steve runs hot naturally despite the cold that's beginning to creep in. It seems like even the seasons don't have any fight in them anymore. Summer is beginning to die— warm days, cold nights. Steve smells like a sweaty gym sock.
He needs a shower.
He's exhausted as he lets out a heavy sigh. The building is a potential hazard. Some of the windows are broken and Steve wasn't able to fully patch them up before nightfall.
He's been travelling for four days, hunkering down in abandoned houses and living off of the food he found in the apartment back in St. Petersburg. He makes good time on foot with heightened endurance, but it's the fucking creatures that slow him down.
"See? Falcon's on my side," Steve grumbles.
"You're damn right," Sam replies.
"This is a good one, Rogers! I promise. It's called 'What's New Pussycat?'"
"God, I hate you," Steve replies, tapping his commlink and turning the volume down while Tony howls on the other end.
"WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT WHOA-WHOA-OHHHH-OHHH!"
Steve rolls onto his back as Tony howls at a much lower volume in his ear and Sam keeps apologizing to Steve. He sighs.
"You slept in the trenches around gunfire, you can sleep through Tony's singing."
"I take offense to that, Rogers!"
"Good."
As Tony keeps crooning, Steve finally manages to drift off and catch a few fitful hours of sleep.
