Till the End of the Line: Our Beginning | Stucky Fanfic

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

1941

Bucky walked into the kitchen, spread out his arms, and did a little spin to show off his clean outfit. "Do I have your approval?"

Steve rolled his eyes and snapped the towel in his hands at Bucky's thigh with a smack. The brunet laughed and grabbed at the towel, pulling Steve closer to him. "You look fine. Much better than before-," Steve's face his face fell and he physically deflated. "I thought you took that mask off."

"Someone's got jokes," Bucky chuckled and slapped Steve's ass playfully. "You've still got flour in your hair."

Steve groaned and pulled away. "Unlike you, I haven't gotten the chance to change yet," Steve pushed on his chest a little, an amused smile on brightening his face. He moved around Bucky, grabbed the casserole dish, and carried it to the table.

Bucky snatched the cutlery from the counter and followed after him. "Then go change, I can handle this."

With a sigh, Steve nodded which caused a cascade of flour to trickle down his face. He playfully glared at Bucky as the latter let out a bark of laughter. Steve trudged out of the room and into their bedroom, not even bothering to close the door fully behind him. Bucky continued to set the table, a small, happy smile on his face.

Things were good right now. He was somewhat happy with his life, but at the same time Bucky was real sad. And somehow, he knew Steve was to blame for both.

Bucky was in love with Steve, to the point he wanted to cry and scream at anyone who ever thought differently. Steve was his world, his everything, the only thing that gets him up in the morning.

Bucky loves him.

Yet. . . Every day hurts. Every day he's forced to hide how he feels, to hide himself. Every day Bucky's forced to realize he's a day closer to losing him. It makes him sick that sooner or later, he'll have to sit Steve down and break his heart. . .

Because if he didn't, someone would find out. Someone would try and kill Steve, or worse. They could succeed. And then he'd probably die, or kill himself if he's quite honest. There wasn't a world Bucky wanted to live in, not without his Stevie.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. There wasn't a point in ruining his - or Steve's - good mood because he couldn't stop thinking negatively. Bucky blinked away his tears and finished setting the table.

"Think I need a new shirt. These all have stains or holes in them," Steve mumbled as he buttoned up his dress shirt.

"We can see about getting a few new ones. I think I could use a few too. 'S been awhile since we got any new clothes," he mumbled. Bucky started to take the other dishes he and Steve had made earlier (which may or may not have caused the flour attack to occur. . .) and put them on the table as Steve finished primping in the mirror hanging on the wall.

"Daisy coming over for the weekend or just tonight?" Steve called.

Bucky sighed and smoothed his shirt down. "She's coming over for the weekend. Ma's dropping her off, but she can't stay. You still okay with that?"

Steve turned to give Bucky a strange look. "No, I'm not okay with your younger sister - that I adore - staying with us for a weekend," he deadpanned.

"Okay, okay," Bucky raised his hands in defense, his easy going nature returning gradually. "She'll be here a little after Mark and Victor get here. Already talked to them, let 'em know she'd be here."

And then, as if they had heard their names, Mark and Victor knocked on the door. Without waiting for either of the boys, the older couple waltzed into the apartment. "Good evening, boys! How are you both?" Mark announced.