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“You were right, you know, about the serum,” Walker said, his voice low, hesitant, as he looked up at Bucky through the dusky light filtering into the warehouse.
Bucky didn’t turn around. He just kept his arms crossed, jaw tight. “Why are you talking?” he shot back, tone clipped and acidic.
Walker exhaled and stepped closer. “I just… if we’re gonna be the New Avengers, a team, we have to get along.”
Bucky finally looked at him, slow and deliberate. His blue eyes narrowed. “We don’t *have* to do anything.”
“I’m trying,” Walker said, softer now. “I know I screwed up. I’m not him anymore. At least, I’m trying not to be.”
Bucky’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes shifted. The old Winter Soldier instincts screamed at him to stay cold, stay distant. But John kept stepping forward.
Walker’s brows pulled together. “Why are we pretending we’re not on the same side now?”
Silence hung between them for a beat. Bucky’s breathing was heavy. The air felt warmer suddenly, thicker.
“You’re not on my side,” Bucky muttered, though it lacked the fire it should’ve had.
“I could be,” Walker said, and his voice dipped an octave lower, the tension in it unmistakable. “If you’d let me.”
Bucky looked at him, really looked. His eyes trailed over Walker’s jaw—clenched a little too tight, like he was holding back something. Their chests nearly brushed now. Close. Too close.
Bucky’s voice came out hoarse, ragged with restraint. “Do you ever shut the hell up?”
Walker’s jaw clenched. “Only when I’m trying not to do something really fucking stupid.”
Bucky stepped in, eyes flashing. “Like what?”
Walker’s breath caught. His fists curled at his sides, like he was trying to hold himself back—like something inside him was already breaking loose. “This.”
He grabbed Bucky by the front of his jacket and slammed their mouths together.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t romantic. It was violent. Desperate. Teeth clashed. Their bodies crashed into each other like they were still fighting, like they were still trying to win something neither of them could name. Bucky growled against Walker’s lips, metal hand twisting in the fabric at the back of Walker’s neck, the other digging into his side hard enough to bruise.
Walker responded with a furious groan, his fingers fisting into Bucky’s shirt like he needed to anchor himself or tear him apart. There was no space between them—no hesitation.
When they finally broke apart, both panting, foreheads pressed together like they might kill each other if they looked away, Bucky’s voice was low, trembling with rage. “You’re still a fucking idiot.”
Walker gave a crooked, blood-warm smile. “Yeah, but you still didn’t punch me.”
Bucky’s hand flexed. “Don’t tempt me. Is this why you fucking shielded me from those bullets?”
Walker didn’t respond. He didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he leaned in again, catching Bucky’s lips in another searing kiss, and Bucky didn’t hold back. His hands moved lower, sliding under Walker’s shirt to grip the bare skin of his back, his fingers digging in hard enough to make Walker gasp.
Walker’s hands were everywhere, touching, grabbing, like he couldn’t get enough. He tugged at Bucky’s shirt, pulling it up until he could get his hands on skin, and the feel of Bucky’s muscles under his palms made him groan. He kissed down Bucky’s jaw, his neck, biting just hard enough to leave a mark for a few minutes, and Bucky’s breath hitched.
“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, his hands tightening on Walker’s back. “You’re such a mess.”
Walker laughed, the sound dark and humorless, and nipped at Bucky’s collarbone. “Says the guy who can’t keep his hands off me.”
Bucky’s response was to shove him back against the wall, his body pressing into Walker’s with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. Walker’s hands flew to Bucky’s shoulders, gripping them tight as Bucky kissed him again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against Walker’s in a way that made his knees weak.
“You started this,” Bucky said against his mouth, his voice rough and full of heat. “Don’t think you get to stop now.”
Walker’s breath caught, and he didn’t even try to argue. He couldn’t. Not when Bucky was touching him like this, kissing him like this. He was lost in it, in the heat and the desperation and the way Bucky’s body felt against his. He didn’t want to stop. He wasn’t sure he could.
Bucky’s hands were on his belt now, fumbling with the buckle, and Walker’s heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. He gripped Bucky’s shoulders tighter, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, and when Bucky finally got his belt undone, his jeans already felt too tight.
“Fuck,” Walker breathed, his head falling back against the wall as Bucky’s hand slipped under the waistband of his boxers, his fingers wrapping around Walker’s cock.
Bucky’s hand was rough, calloused, and the heat of it was almost too much. Walker groaned, his hips jerking forward into Bucky’s grip, and Bucky smirked against his neck, his breath hot on Walker’s skin.
“You’re so fucking easy,” Bucky muttered, his hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made Walker’s knees buckle.
Walker’s hands found Bucky’s hair, tangling in it as he kissed Bucky again, messy and desperate. He didn’t care that he was coming apart, didn’t care that Bucky could feel every shudder, every gasp. All he cared about was the way Bucky’s hand felt on him, the way his body felt pressed against his.
“Bucky,” Walker breathed, his voice breaking as Bucky’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Fuck, Bucky—”
Bucky’s grip tightened, his strokes faster now, and Walker was close, so close, but he didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want the fire to go out, didn’t want the heat to fade. He wanted this—wanted Bucky—more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
“Come on, Walker,” Bucky growled against his ear, his voice low and dangerously tempting. “Cum.”
And Walker did. With a choked moan, he came, his body trembling as pleasure washed over him in waves. Bucky didn’t stop, his hand moving until Walker was wrung out, his legs shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
When Bucky finally pulled back, Walker felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His whole body was tingling, his mind a hazy mess, and Bucky was looking at him with that same sharp, dangerous look in his eyes.