Bucky had been looking forward to going back to Wyoming, but what they went back to wasn't the Wyoming he remembered. It had looked the same right up until he went in through the front door. And then he saw the extra door in the living room, leading out back into the extension where they'd built out the sun room. He hadn't said a single thing as he took it all in, exploring the-- is that a hot tub? His disapproval about the overhaul was clearly evident in the furrow of his eyebrows and the intense staring, like he could simply will it all away and go back to how it was if he glared long and hard enough at the greenhouse.
He tried to spend the day pretending he's fine with everything and dodging Oeznik's question about the bandage wrapped around his hand. He maybe succeeded with convincing only Steve that he doesn't hate all these things changing around him, which probably only Steve was willing to be convinced because Bucky didn't start anxiously peeing everywhere. Zemo had still tried to reassure him that the place was much better now, and Oeznik had still fussed over his injury and pressed as much as he could about whether they enjoyed their not-honeymoon.
But Bucky was calm again by the time night rolled around and he'd had a long, hot shower and could finally unwind. An unintended side effect from the heated floor is he finds it too uncomfortably warm now to sleep on, so he gravitated to the bed without needing to be prompted, and let Zemo's cool body latch onto him even though they're now in a bed with plenty of space.
The first thing he'd noticed amiss in the morning was the hair tickling him. His shoulders tensed up the longer they lingered on the back of his neck and he tried to turn further away from Zemo with a grunt. Reaching behind him to touch Zemo's thigh, it's soft and fleshy and slender where he was expecting some hard edges and muscles, and his eyebrows furrow deeply as he starts to turn his head to look over at his big spoon. Maybe he'd grabbed something else, like an arm or something, but that's too low to be an arm.
"Zemo?" he calls out quietly, voice a little raspy, blinking a few times as he turns to face him. "Helmmmmmmmwhat the fuck?!"
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He tried to spend the day pretending he's fine with everything and dodging Oeznik's question about the bandage wrapped around his hand. He maybe succeeded with convincing only Steve that he doesn't hate all these things changing around him, which probably only Steve was willing to be convinced because Bucky didn't start anxiously peeing everywhere. Zemo had still tried to reassure him that the place was much better now, and Oeznik had still fussed over his injury and pressed as much as he could about whether they enjoyed their not-honeymoon.
But Bucky was calm again by the time night rolled around and he'd had a long, hot shower and could finally unwind. An unintended side effect from the heated floor is he finds it too uncomfortably warm now to sleep on, so he gravitated to the bed without needing to be prompted, and let Zemo's cool body latch onto him even though they're now in a bed with plenty of space.
The first thing he'd noticed amiss in the morning was the hair tickling him. His shoulders tensed up the longer they lingered on the back of his neck and he tried to turn further away from Zemo with a grunt. Reaching behind him to touch Zemo's thigh, it's soft and fleshy and slender where he was expecting some hard edges and muscles, and his eyebrows furrow deeply as he starts to turn his head to look over at his big spoon. Maybe he'd grabbed something else, like an arm or something, but that's too low to be an arm.
"Zemo?" he calls out quietly, voice a little raspy, blinking a few times as he turns to face him. "Helmmmmmmmwhat the fuck?!"