Chapter Text
Bucky stared at the fabric of the tent going up above his head, still panting. He could feel his face being warm and his heart still racing as he watched Steve standing up and fastening his belt. The man was avoiding Bucky’s eyes. But the brunet didn’t care, too focused on the cotton-like feeling around his brain and the warmth of his body.
Steve finally turned towards him and pulled Bucky out of his thoughts. The man saw Steve’s cheeks turn completely red in a second.
The brown-haired man became aware of what he looked like and he felt his own skin heat up. He lay on the mess that was Steve’s bed and blankets, arms spread wide, his underwear lowered to his knees.
Steve opened his mouth, trying to talk, but not a single sound came out.
Bucky grinned at him, his own embarrassment already vanished.
“... I put your clothes right there,” the blond finally mumbled while he pointed vaguely to the tent floor.
“Thanks,” Bucky answered without moving.
“ ‘m gonna– Just gonna check on the woolies.”
Bucky hummed in agreement but the other had already stepped outside, and a moment later he heard a horse going away.
He sighed, closed his eyes. He brushed his own skin on his stomach, shivering at the touch of his fingers. He waited a moment before he arched his back to put his underpants back on, with a whine when his weak legs began to tremble.
He could have gone for a second round.
Or, well, a third, he thought.
The man finally stepped out the tent, trying to button his shirt back on. Blinded by the sun, he squeezed his eyes when he looked up the hill. He could make out the white patches of the sheep in the distance, and four dark dots, which were the three dogs and Steve’s horse. Bucky put on his second shoe before he jumped on his horse’s back, leading it toward the path in the trees.
The forest around him was unchanged, cool and shady except for the light spots on the ground where the sun could enter the foliage. The sound of the insects and the leaves brushing his horse’s legs were identical to what it was before.
Everything remained the same. He breathed in hard, trying to figure out if it was a good thing or not.
When he reached the herd, he saw all the sheep asleep under the trees, waiting for the chill evening air to start eating. Two of the dogs were lying on the grass next to them, and the third one walked around the flock without scaring the animals. Reaching the brown horse which was grazing a little further ahead, Bucky glanced over the field rapidly, but Steve was nowhere to be found.
The cowboy whistled at a dog, patted his horse on the neck, and decided to go for a walk around the vale.
Steve was sat in the middle of long yellow grass, staring right ahead with a frown.
Bucky stopped his horse at the edge of the field, set both of his feet on the ground and headed toward Steve with the dog at his side. The place was quiet, the sun veiled by grey clouds, which turned the valley in shade and shut the insects down. Bucky's steps seemed astonishingly loud in this atmosphere.
Arrived at Steve’s level, he gazed in the distance with him, his hands deep in his pockets. The other man didn’t move his head nor his eyes, instead simply stretched out his arm to pat the dog. They both remained silent, their gaze lost in the scenery in front of them. The mountain seemed teal in the shadows, more blue than green. The rocks, high on the top, were shining in the only ray of sun.
“This is a one-shot thing we got goin’ on here.”
Bucky's heart missed a beat when Steve talked. He tried to reply, couldn’t, and sat down instead. His leg brushed Steve’s. He shivered.
“It’s nobody’s business but ours,” he finally articulated.
Steve glanced at him before turning his head to the vale again.
“You know I ain’t queer.”
Bucky’s guts writhed.
“Me neither.”
A gust of wind waved the grass and their hair sticking out of their hats, and they stopped talking. Bucky sighed and stretched out his arm to pat the dog alongside Steve. Their hands touched, and they stopped moving, simply scratching the dog’s back, their pinky fingers pushed together.
Time went by.
Sun pierced the clouds but left behind the mountain almost immediately, and the air dropped several degrees cooler.
It was time to go.
Bucky stood up, dusted his pants off and then offered his hand to the man on the ground. Steve glanced up at him before he clapped his hand in the other’s. They walked slowly in the fields and between the trees, Bucky lazily holding the reins on his horse. Surprisingly enough, the moment wasn’t awkward. But both of them definitely needed silence.
They reached the herd, checked on them for real this time, and headed back to camp on their horses.
They were both sat on the logs around the fireplace, Bucky playing with a stick in the fire waiting for the beans to heat up, Steve drawing in his sketchbook.
The man threw his stick in the fire and lay his head on his knees with a sigh. If his head was tilted perfectly toward the blond cowboy, it was certainly on purpose. Steve’s hair looked like gold in the firelight, bright against the darkness of the night. His skin looked like gold, he realized as he lowered his gaze. He wondered if he should talk. Neither of them had said a word since their discussion in the field.
He decided to take a moment to admire Steve a little longer.
The flames outlined his fingers in a red-ish halo, sometimes making them disappear in the dark.
“D’you even see anything?”
Steve smiled. Bucky’s heart looped.
“No, actually. Plus, this fire is fuckin’ moving man, can’t it stop for a minute?”
Bucky laughed quietly.
“Not how it works, pal.”
“No shit,” he answered back, smiling.
Bucky tried to sneak an eye over to the little notebook, but he was right, he couldn’t see shit.
They ate the bean cans, talking lightly about the valley or the herd.
It was now bedtime, and as every night, Bucky was supposed to go sleep with the sheep in his small tent. But not this time. He stood up and stretched, trying to act like he didn’t notice Steve’s gaze on his stomach as his shirt went up, and slowly, he walked to the tent. He opened it and sat inside, faced Steve, grinned, teasingly flexed his shoulders and finally, opened his legs.
“Aren’t you supposed to sleep with the sheep?” Steve breathed, staring at Bucky’s body.
“They’re gonna survive one night without me.”
Steve practically jumped on his feet, and Bucky only had time to blink before the man was kneeled between his legs, his face only inches from his own. His heart sped up so fast he swore he died for a moment.
“You’re right,” Steve breathed.
Time froze. And when it unfroze, Steve’s lips were on Bucky's skin, and they fell back in the intimity of the tent.
Later that night, Bucky was fully awake and fully naked in the darkness of the tent, which was only pierced by the pale gleam of the moon. Steve was pressed against his side, his hot skin against his own, asleep.
Bucky sighed as he lay his free arm on his eyes.
Fuck, he thought. I’m so queer.
***
The sound of hooves resonated between the trees, and Bucky turned around, putting his pants on in a hurry. He had taken advantage of Steve leaving to get their rations to wash his clothes in the stream. The man winced at the sensation of the still-wet fabric around his ankles, but buttoned it up before Steve arrived. The blond man emerged from the copse on his horse and stopped, looking right at Bucky, bemused.
“I think you should see this, pal,” he said as he jumped off his horse.
Bucky frowned before he headed towards Steve barefoot, wondering what that was about. Every time Steve had come back from getting rations, he hadn’t said a thing. Even if he was more talkative since they had swum together one week earlier, he was still a quiet guy. As he moved closer, he saw Steve taking something from the saddle, but it wasn’t until he arrived next to him that he clearly saw what it was. His eyes went wide.
“Erm,” Steve began. “Are any of the dogs female by any chance?”
In his arms rested a tiny light brown puppy, its head searching around frenetically, with big brown eyes contrasting against its light fur. Its tails wagged, and its tiny claws sunk into Steve’s shirt, desperately trying to break free from the man’s arms.
“What, no- No, they’re all male, god, Steve, where did you find that?” He asked, patting the puppy on its black muzzle.
“In the woods.”
“What, really?” Bucky said, stunned.
“Yeah, in the middle of nowhere in the valley. I wanted to go for a walk after getting the cans, close to the cliff where we raced, you remember? But as I walked, I saw her spinning around a tree, all alone. I looked around but found nothing but her, and I couldn’t leave her there so I turned back.”
Bucky gaped at him.
“She was just… There? Wait, it’s a she?”
“Not sure, but I think so,” Steve replied.
“So should we… Should we keep her?”
“Of course we’ll keep her.” Steve frowned at Bucky. “She can’t live by herself in the woods.”
“I know, but maybe she belongs to someone??”
“Bucky, we’re the only ones here, I don’t even know how the fuck she got here.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, that just… Doesn’t make any sense.”
The blond man shrugged. Bucky sighed. Steve wasn’t even looking at him this whole time, his gaze was all on the puppy, a fond smile on his lips.
“Okay,” he let out another sigh. “We keep her.”
“Thanks!”
The brunet walked toward the water. A puppy, he thought. A fucking puppy. In the woods.
He heard the sound of fabric ruffling when Steve lifted his head.
“Wait,” the latter shouted. “I already said that we’re keeping her, why am I thanking you?”
Bucky smiled wide as he picked his shirt from the ground.
They spent the day admiring the puppy. They brought her to the herd, and introduced her to the dogs. One of them was an anatolian shepherd exactly like her, and his height compared to the smallness of the puppy was ridiculous. The two others, two black and white border collies, sniffed her all over before they lost interest and walked away.
The cowboys let her run in the grass while they sat on a flat rock close to her. She fell countless times, making the two men burst in laughter. After some time, Bucky lay down to enjoy the sun, but Steve watched her the whole afternoon, sometimes shaking Bucky’s arm, shouting things like : “Did you see that?? She caught this butterfly, she’s so smart!!” or “Wait Buck, that’s too dangerous she’s gonna hurt herself, she could die,” before running toward the puppy to help her get down from a four-inch tall rock.
When the sun set, they headed to camp, and Steve showed Bucky how good she was as she stood on the horse without falling. The walk was three times longer, Steve wanted to be extra careful so the dog wouldn’t fall. Bucky said they would have been faster on foot, but Steve argued she needed to train if she wanted to ride often with him. Bucky didn’t say anything and smiled. After all, they had all summer.
Later in the night, Bucky was stretched out in the tent, listening to Steve playing with the puppy right next to him. The dog was really cute, he thought as he turned on his side, but damn, he really wanted to fuck Steve.
***
They moved the herd the following day. They led the animals in a field on the other side of a long thicket, rode the horses slowly under the warm sun. The puppy slept on Steve’s horse, and everything was like every day since they were here, in the quiet brouhaha of the mountain. They were shouting to the flock, whistling to the dogs, the sheep bleated, the insects were loud as noon was coming around, but that was soothing, that was quiet. Like a bubble around them, around Bucky’s ears, around his heart.
They stopped the horses and the sheep so all the animals could graze, and they looked at each other, smiling as soon as their eyes met. Steve threw his head back, squinted his eyes when the sun dazzled him, and Bucky admired the man’s face a moment before he followed his movement, a hand on his hat so it wouldn’t fall.
And then, Steve yelled. A loud, deep scream that came right from his chest. Bucky stared at him, taken aback. Steve straightened his head as he stopped and looked at Bucky with a huge smile on his lips, and screamed again, raising both of his arms in the air, fingers facing the sky. The brown-haired man had a nervous laugh that rapidly morphed into a frank one, and he faced the sky with Steve, yelling with all his lungs. He heard Steve trying to refrain from laughing in between his screams, and when he caught a glimpse of him, he saw the puppy fully awake, trying to climb on Steve’s shirt. They laughed loudly for a long time, the puppy’s tail hitting Steve’s face as the man tried to calm her. That was great, Bucky thought.
That felt right.
They finally caught their breath, still chuckling.
Bucky was tempted to ask, “What was that?”, but at the sight of the bright smile on Steve’s face, he didn’t say a word. Instead, they gazed at each other, and both of them pulled on the reins. They had somehow silently agreed to walk toward the copse in front of them. The herd didn’t need them here.
Their walk was slow, they weaved in between the trees and the rocks, going through fields and mountain streams. They stopped multiple times, either to point at birds of prey gliding in the air in front of them, or so Bucky could help Steve catch the puppy that randomly decided to climb on the man’s back.
They finally arrived at a field with a huge tree in its centre. The grass was all green, shining in the wind like the sea, and the grass blades brushed Bucky’s boots when he jumped off his horse in the shade of the pine. He contemplated the view, both hands on his hips.
During all his time in the mountain, his back had hurt from sleeping on the floor, but the pain seemed to have magically disappeared here. The air was flowing into his lungs freely, and his mind was clear. It was devoid of all the thoughts that were not beautiful sceneries and handsome cowboys.
He drew himself out of his thoughts.
“Steve, look at that. Isn’t it the perfect place to draw? You took your notebook, right man?”
A shiver went down his spine when he felt a huge hand on his own near his hip, followed by a head on his shoulder.
“Don’t think I want to draw right now, Bucky…”
The man closed his eyes as Steve’s hand slid on his stomach, playing with the button on his shirt. His heart was racing in his chest, ready to explode.
“Yeah?” he breathed. “What do you-”
“Shut up, Buck.”
He tilted his head. His lips met Steve’s, and he breathed hard. He sled against the blond’s body to face him and kissed harder. Both of his hands set down on Steve’s cheeks, his skin against the man’s dense beard. Steve’s hands were on his hips and he wasn’t thinking straight, feeling so dizzy with euphoria that he decided to kiss even harder so the other wouldn’t feel his arms shaking.
A water drop landed on his hand.
He stopped the kiss, just to see Steve’s face covered in tears.
“What-”
Steve hugged him hard.
Without thinking twice Bucky returned the embrace, and both of them fell to their knees, Steve’s sobs loud in his ear. Bucky’s throat was tied shut by tears. He caressed the man’s back slowly, the harsh fabric of his shirt scratching his fingers, and tried his best to find the right words. Nothing came out of his mouth.
Maybe there was nothing to be said.
Minutes went by, and then hours.
Tears ran dry at some point or another, shoulders stopped shaking, and subtle smiles came back.
Bucky lay on his back in the grass, Steve pressed himself against his side and the puppy, who had figured out how to jump off the horse, slept above their heads. Bucky petted her lazily, his eyes lost in the blue sky shattered by the outline of the branches.
“I,” Bucky’s voice was still hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Sometimes, I would want this life to continue forever.”
The other didn’t answer. He winced, an awkward feeling crawling under his skin. Fuck, why did I say that.
The wind brushed their skin.
“When we come back to the camp…” Steve’s voice was low. Bucky shivered. “Could I draw you?”
Bucky intertwined their fingers. All the embarrassing feelings disappeared.
“Of course you can, of course.”
***
“Where do you want me?”
It had already been six weeks since they had started to work together. Three weeks ago was the first time Steve had asked to draw him, under the huge tree, and it was now a recurrent activity to pass the time. And if he was being honest, Bucky loved it .
The day was warm, too warm, and both of them were covered in sweat. They had moved the herd next to a tiny stream that winded between grey rocks, hence why both of them were shirtless, their boots scattered in the grass, their feet plunged in the freezing water.
Steve had his little notebook on his knees, a pencil in hand, while Bucky was sitting across from him on the other side of the stream. His pants were wet from playing in the water with the puppy, and his long hair was not drier. The dog, now named Captain by Steve, was sleeping in the grass, snoring loudly, exhausted from earlier.
“Why Captain?” Bucky had asked.
“Well, when she’s older she’s gonna do great things!”
Bucky had laughed.
“Y’know she’s a dog, right?”
Steve had made a face to him, and had covered the puppy’s ear.
“Don’t listen to him, Cap, he’s jealous.”
Which had only made Bucky laugh more.
“I kinda like it there,” Steve declared, reminding Bucky that he was supposed to model for the cowboy. “If you can keep this pose for a little while, and could you…”Steve got on his feet and walked in the water to reach Bucky. He kneeled down on the rock, very close to the other, and took his jaw in between his fingers.
Bucky felt his breath being cut short as Steve looked in his eyes, his gaze intense and his palm hot. Gently, the man pushed his head on the side.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “That’s the angle.”
Bucky took advantage of the fact that Steve wasn’t in his line of sight anymore to catch his breath. He felt his skin burning, and it wasn’t from the sun. Flustering like a damn teenager, c'mon man.
“ ‘s it painful for you?” Steve asked.
“No, yeah that’s fine.”
“Great.”
Bucky could hear the smile in his voice. His stomach did the thing.
Soon, the sound of the pencil mingled with the noise of the water, and silence settled between the two men.
Bucky tried his best to focus on the roughness of the rock under his fingers, the warmth of it contrasting with the temperature of the water, but he couldn’t resist. He turned his eyes, trying to peek at Steve without changing the angle of his neck.
And what a view, he thought.
He could see Steve’s torso, his tanned skin and his muscles underneath, covered by a blond fuzz. He observed his hand and his arm, moving fast to trace the lines on the paper. He could feel Steve’s gaze on his own body from time to time, gazing at him for less than a second to capture the global shapes of his face and limbs.
Bucky was turned on.
He was not supposed to be turned on.
He looked away again, trying to think of something that was not Steve’s body or strong hands. His mind traveled fast through his memories of their time together in the valley, the sheep, the dog, the camp, their talk. Every day since it had happened, he thought about what Steve had said.
"You know I ain’t queer.”
And how he had lied when he had replied.
“Me neither.”
What was he supposed to say?
And Bucky hated himself for that because, oh, how he wanted to be queer with Steve. But he couldn’t say that. Because Steve didn’t want that, because that was a one-time thing, because at the end of summer they wouldn’t see each other again. Thinking about that made Bucky sick.
But at least now he wasn’t half-hard in his pants because he, in fact, really wanted to cry. He wasn’t sure what was worse.
He looked at the man again, and breathed out. Steve was there for now. Bucky didn’t need to think about the future. He’ll be sick later.
“C’mon man, stop moving.”
“Sorry!”
Captain eventually woke up and immediately jumped on Steve to lick his face. Both men laughed, and Bucky took this as a hint he could move. He stood up to stretch his back.
He then walked towards Steve, and as he did so, he grinned.
“Can I see the drawing?”
“Y’know I hate showing it.”
“Aww, does that mean no?” he said in a false pleading voice, sitting next to the man.
Steve sighed, a grin peaking near the end of his lips, and handed his open notebook.
“Only this one.”
Bucky smirked, because Steve always said the same thing, and took the book in his hands.
On the paper he could see himself in the pose he just held for Steve, fully shaded and covered in details. He was now used to seeing himself like that, like a nearly-perfect picture glued to the paper. Sometimes his eyes were not straight. Sometimes his nose was longer. It was fun.
The wind rose all of a sudden, and he didn’t have time to stop the pages from getting flipped over. Scared it would get damaged, he pressed his hand in a hurry on the paper, preventing them from turning more than they already did. He lay his eyes on the new pages, and his heart skipped a beat.
There were multiple sketches on the page, very different from the ones he saw before, all blurred with dots for the eyes and a line for the mouth, but all of them were without a doubt drawings of Bucky. He was sitting on his horse, or taking care of an ewe. Next to it, on the other sheet of the double-page spread, another drawing of him, seemingly at the beginning of the summer, lying down in tall grass.
He ran his fingers over the paper trying not to smudge the drawings, mesmerized.
He wasn’t used to that form of affection. He wasn’t used to being seen, to being looked at, wasn’t used to having his body be appreciated in all its forms. His face and his lips, his skin hidden under his clothes, his hands appreciated for their shape and not only for the work he could do with them. His defined muscles when his shirt was just a grey mess. His hair looked so soft there, just two or three strokes around his face, drawn in a rush.
He jumped when the sketchbook was ripped from his fingers, tearing him from his thoughts. The brown-haired man raised his head, only to find a frowning Steve in front of him, his sketchbook disappearing quickly in his pants’ pocket.
“I said, don’t look.”
His face sported an upset expression, and Bucky couldn’t tell whether the man was angry at Bucky for looking at his drawings, or embarrassed by himself.
“Sorry,” said Bucky, getting up. “Didn’t want to upset you, pal.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on.”
Steve took Captain in his arms and jumped on his horse. Bucky looked at him walk away, to the camp, and took his head in his hands as he sighed.