“So,” Steve says, “this is bad.”
“Ya think?” Bucky asks and he’s only half joking, because, really, he could think of worse scenarios than being locked inside a morgue drawer with Steve. Sure, it’s kind of really, really cramped and not exactly comfortable, but he’s lying on top of Steve and that makes everything a little better.
Steve shifts a bit, somehow manages to wrap an arm around him and rubs soothing circles into his back. “You alright?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Bucky answers without hesitating. “Never been better.”
To be honest, he expected to freak out when Steve closed the door behind them, but he didn’t. There was a brief moment of panic when they had climbed into the drawer and he found that it was cold and cramped, he couldn’t see anything and he couldn’t move, but a minute of Steve’s quiet voice whispering reassuring words into his ear was enough to calm him down. Now, a few minutes into their self-imposed exile, he finds that this is nothing like the cryo tanks Hydra kept him in between missions. Never mind all that muscle, Steve’s body is soft underneath him and it feels a bit like lying on a goddamn furnace. Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to start sweating before he gets cold. Besides, though the drawer’s deadlock can only be opened from the outside, he could probably punch a hole through the door without even straining himself, if he really wanted to.
So. All things considered, it could be worse.
He could be stuck in here with Stark.
Bucky shudders at the thought and Steve seems to think he’s getting cold. There’s more shuffling under him and just as he’s about to complain about all the fidgeting, there’s a second arm wrapping around his back. He hums in contentment and lets his head fall against Steve’s shoulder. “How long d’you think we’re gonna be stuck in here?” he asks without looking up.
“They’ll need to wait for the gas to wear off before they come get us,” Steve answers. “We have no idea how long that’s gonna take. Then they’ll have to find us first. In a building of this size? Could be anything from half an hour to half a day, really.”
“And we can’t just climb outta here ourselves ‘cause we don’t know if the gas is still out there. Got it. It’s gonna be a long wait.”
“I spy with my little eye something gray.”
“This seemed like a brilliant idea a minute ago.”
“Hey, remember that one time you and Gabe – “
“Shut up, Steve. If I have to listen to one more ‘remember that one time’ story, I swear I’ll put this drawer to its intended use.”
“This would be so much easier if we still had our comms, Steve.”
“What? How’s that my fault all of a sudden? Tony said we had to get rid of them immediately because the guy you were supposed to get rid of made it back into the lab somehow, so I did.”
“Yeah, I remember that part ‘cause you almost tore my ear off. And I wouldn’t have lost that guy if I hadn’t had to save your sorry ass again, Rogers, so yeah, still your fault.”
“How often do I have to tell you I didn’t need saving before you get it into your thick skull? I had the situation under control.”
“Sure you did.”
“Shut up, Barnes.”
“You shut up.”
“Maybe they think we’re dead and they’re never gonna get us outta here.”
“Maybe everyone else is dead and they’re never gonna come back.”
“Goddamnit Steve, I was trying to be optimistic and you had to go and ruin it.”
“Never have I ever…”
“Aww, you’re no fun.”
Bucky starts awake very suddenly and bangs his head against the ceiling, which is – why is the ceiling so low? Why can’t he move, why –
“Careful,” Steve says. He cups his skull in one of his large hands and pulls him back down to press a kiss against his temple. “Remember where you are?”
“Right. Yeah. The morgue,” Bucky murmurs into Steve’s neck, the split second of terror already half-forgotten. “Wait. Did you just let me fall asleep in a morgue drawer?”
“Well, you fell asleep in a morgue drawer, so I figured you might be tired.”
“Yeah, and whose fault might that be?” he mumbles, trying and failing not to smile against Steve’s skin.
“You weren’t complaining last night.”
“I ain’t complaining now.” He presses a kiss against Steve’s jaw and settles back against the warm body under him.
“I’m just curious…”
“What is it?”
“Are you wearing anything underneath that uniform?”
“’Cause I’m not wearing anything underneath mine.”
“I like how the leather feels on my skin. It’s hard to fit underwear underneath there anyway, it’s so tight – “
“I am not having sex with you in a morgue drawer.”
“Not even a little bit?”
Bucky tries his best pout, but Steve just glares at him. “Not even a little bit.”
Bucky’s left foot has fallen asleep and his knee is starting to hurt from being pressed against the hard metal surface of the drawer for so long. He wriggles a little until he can fit his legs on both sides of Steve’s body, and settles with his face in the crook of his neck, lying on top of him with his whole torso, from hips to chest.
“Bucky, stop it,” Steve hisses.
“Just gettin’ comfortable.”
“How much more comfortable can you get? You were sleeping ten minutes ago. In a morgue drawer.”
“Yeah, and then something woke me up, so obviously it wasn’t comfortable enough.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“I ain’t doing anything, I’m just lying here where you put me. ‘Cause if you think back, you’ll remember that it was you who pulled me on top of you and then shoved us both in here. This wasn’t my idea of a perfect Saturday evening.”
“Sorry for saving you from a deadly alien gas that was going to choke you any second, jerk.”
Instead of answering, Bucky sinks his teeth into the tender skin on Steve’s neck, which earns him a startled yelp.
“Did you just bite me?”
“Sorry pal, just gettin’ a little hungry up here. It’s what happens when you’re not dead.”
“Why do I even put up with you?” Steve sighs.
“Should’ve asked yourself that question before you locked that door. Now you’re stuck with me, punk.”
Steve just hums in agreement. His arms suddenly hold him a little tighter, and if Bucky’s grin turns into more of a sappy smile, well, there’s no one here to judge him.
Ten minutes later, they’re sharing lazy kisses and Bucky has absolutely no ulterior motives. He’s only sucking on Steve’s tongue because of all the delicious noises he makes when he does that.
Bucky pulls back a little and grins down at him in the almost-darkness. He can’t really see Steve, but his vision is better than Bucky’s, so he probably gets the idea. “You think I can make you come just from kissing you?”
“’m not a teenager, Buck,” Steve mumbles and oh, doesn’t that sound a lot like a challenge?
“We gettin’ cocky now, huh?” Bucky asks, punctuating the question with a sharp thrust of his hips.
Steve sucks in a deep breath. “That’s not just kissing.”
“All is fair in love and war,” Bucky purrs, trailing kisses down along his jaw. Steve tilts his head back to give him better access to his throat, and he gladly accepts the invitation. “You know, there’s no way we can change before we get back to the tower. When they open that door, they’ll know what we did. They’ll smell it on us.” He’s reached the collar of Steve’s uniform and licks a broad stripe back up over his throat. Now it’s Steve who shifts his hips, trying to get some friction, but Bucky pulls away as far as he can in the cramped space and nips at his jaw instead. “We’re gonna have to walk outta here covered in our own cum. We’re gonna sit in the jet like this and you’ll spend the whole ride thinking of me.” He slowly starts grinding his hips into Steve’s crotch and kisses him again to swallow his moan. “Thinking of what you’d like to do to me,” he says against Steve’s full lips. “You gonna fuck me when we get home, Stevie?”
“Yes,” Steve answers breathlessly, “God, yes.”
“Think we can make it to the bed? Or are you just gonna fuck me against the wall, soon as the door’s closed? ‘Cause I think I’d like that.”
“Shower. We’ll need a shower.”
Bucky imagines it; standing in the shower, Steve behind him, mercilessly fucking him while he’s pressed up against the cool tiles, struggling to hold himself upright, their bodies slippery from water and soap, shouting with every thrust because that’s what soundproof apartments are for… He moans and pushes his hips down as hard as he can. He can barely feel the outline of Steve’s cock through both their uniforms, but the friction is enough, he just needs a little more, just a little more…
“Want to feel you inside me, Stevie,” he says, “all the way in.”
And finally, finally Steve’s hands slide down over his back to grip his ass, and he pushes back up against him.
Bucky has to bite back a moan. “You’re cheating,” he breathes instead.
“You started it,” Steve counters, taking up a steady rhythm of grinding his hips against Bucky’s and pushing his tongue into his mouth at the same time.
Bucky really wants to say something to that, but his mouth is otherwise occupied, so he tangles his human hand in Steve’s hair instead and tugs on it. Steve’s groan is totally worth it and Bucky makes a mental note to try that again later, when they have more room to move, and oh, he’d like to move a lot more right now.
He tries to get his hands down between their bodies, so he can touch something, anything, but he can’t get them past Steve’s shoulders, there’s just not enough room.
“Your shoulders are ridiculous, Steve, anyone ever tell you that?” he asks between two thrusts.
“Yeah, you. Once or twice. Now shut up.”
Steve lifts his head to kiss him again and then he’s panting into his mouth, any rhythm forgotten, they’re just rutting against each other now as fast as possible, Bucky’s metal hand pushing against the door, the other one buried in Steve’s hair. Bucky licks into his mouth, trying to get another taste of his tongue, and that’s when Steve grinds up against him one more time, then goes completely still. He comes with a low groan that reverberates around the cramped space, then he goes slack and lets his head fall back to the metal surface.
Bucky follows him, finds his favorite tender spot on Steve’s neck again, and bites down hard. He’s going to leave a mark, he knows it, and it will be gone in a few hours, but it’ll still be there when the others get them out of here. They’ll walk out of the building and everyone will see that Steve is his, that nobody can take him away from him, never again – and that thought is enough to tip him over the edge, make him float in nothing but pleasure and happiness for a few seconds.
When he comes back to himself, Steve’s arms are wrapped loosely around his body again and Bucky rests his head on his shoulder, feeling boneless and relaxed.
There’s silence between them while they’re both breathing in the smell of sex. Bucky remembers what he told Steve just minutes ago – They’ll smell it on us – and suddenly he’s almost a little embarrassed. He just hopes that whoever opens the door won’t be Stark. Or Natasha. He could deal with one of the others, probably, but he doesn’t even want to imagine the terrible jokes either of those two would make if they found them here like this.
When he starts giggling like a teenage girl, Steve resumes his pastime of rubbing Bucky’s back. “You okay?” he asks.
“Steve, we… we…” He snorts once more and has to take two deep breaths before he gets the words out: “We just had sex in a morgue drawer.”
Steve groans and pokes him in the side with the hand that’s not caressing his back. “You’re impossible.”
“True, but that’s why you love me,” Bucky leers down at him and Steve is quiet for so long that he starts to worry he might have said the wrong thing.
But then Steve lifts his head a little to press a kiss against his temple, and says, “Yeah. It is.”
“I knew it,” Bucky says before he can say something else that sounds decidedly too sappy even in his own head, and lies down with his cheek on Steve’s chest to drift off once more.
“This is kinda gross.”
“It was your idea, so don’t you dare start moaning at me.”
“That’s not what you said two hours ago.”
“That’s almost exactly what I said two hours ago.”
“Nope, that was three hours ago. Two hours ago, you were very happily moaning at me.”
“I take back everything I said. I hate you.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet, Stevie.”
When the door finally opens and Bucky looks up, he has to blink a few times against the blinding light. Sam’s face is hovering above him, his expression just a little bit too neutral to pass as impassive. “I drew the short straw,” he says. “Please tell me you’re fully clothed.”
“Not enough space to take anything off,” Bucky says. “We had to improvise.”
They climb out of the drawer, Bucky rolling off Steve and getting on his feet with as much grace as humanly possible after being stuck in a morgue drawer for more than six hours. He grimaces at the feeling of dried cum on his skin under the leather of his uniform, but immediately starts smiling again at the thought of coming home and taking a long, hot shower. A glance towards Steve shows him the same carefully neutral expression Sam is wearing. Those two really spent too much time together with Natasha when they were looking for him.
Sam’s eyes wander from the bright red hickey on Steve’s neck to Bucky’s dopey grin. “I don’t want to know,” he decides. “I really, really don’t.”
“Are you sure?” Bucky asks. “’Cause there were some very interesting acrobatics going on. Could be useful information for you.”
“Alright, alright, alright!” Sam says loudly, pressing his hands over his ears. “That’s enough, I don’t want to hear any more of it. Come on, let’s go home. The jet’s waiting for us.”
“Right,” Steve says, smiling innocently at Bucky, “I can’t wait to get into the shower.”