"You're confused," Steve quietly presumed. He sighed, looking down at Bucky's hands for a moment and without thinking– taking them into his own. "That's okay, Buck. Things are a little…messy right now, and even though you're kind of stuck with me–" He softly laughed, "–I'll help you figure it out."
Bucky's mouth twitched in a faint smile, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I…I don't know." he replied, looking at Steve. "I don't know if I'll ever figure it out."
(one of the reporters should snap a picture of them like this lmao)
Steve casually shrugged, "We'll figure it out together," His lips curved into a boyish smile, "I mean– you taught me how to dance, so It can't be that hard, right?"
(a huge flash goin off?)
(not all cameras make a big flash)
Bucky laughed softly, his own mouth curving slightly to match Steve's smile. "Well yeah, but you were a lot shorter back then, punk."
"Well– you're the short one now, jerk," Steve retorted, bouncing his eyebrows and smiling even though it was only by an inch or two.
Somewhere through the crowd, a cameraman's gaze had wandered from their current conversation. Steve's back was turned to them, but Bucky's brightened expression towards him would make a perfect shot. They excitedly raised their camera, and with a few rounds of the flickering shutter, the moment was saved.
Bucky stuck his tongue out at Steve, shaking his head. "Not by that much. Besides, I'm still older." then he blinked. "Wait…yes, I am."
"Oh, so you're older, but I'm the one going senile?" Steve smiled, squeezing his hands playfully, "We're both, like, ninety."
"Ninety-six, thanks." Bucky replied primly. "And yes, of course you're the one going senile. I am in better shape."
"Nuh-uh, I could run circles around you– litterally." Steve nodded, raising his eyebrows, "Just wait 'til we get a morning in Central Park. That place is a maze, and I'm gonna floor it."
"Nah. And that's not fair, you know the layout better so of course you'd do better than me." Bucky replied.
Steve smiled, slipping his hands into his pockets and shrugging cheekily, "M'kay. What would be fair, then?"
"Hmm. Somewhere you've never ever been." he replied with a faint smile. "That way you don't have an advantage."
"An advantage?" Steve quietly laughed, "Sure, sure. Even then I'd still– sometimes –beat you in our races around the block."
"Hm. No you won't." he replied, shaking his head and tucking back a loose strand of hair, looking at Steve. "I might be shorter than you, punk, but I can still beat you."
"Oh– you're quoting me, now? Those are famous last words," Steve chuckled, stealthily snatching two mini quiches off of a waiters tray for them, "But if we are talking about racing, are we betting, too?"
Bucky snorted. "Not quoting you." He replied, shaking his head. "And no, no one's doing any betting. You'd lose it."
"Hmm, well…younger me liked to pick fights, and, let me tell you–" Steve said with a laugh, handing Bucky a mini quiche, "–Size matters."
(that could be taken two different ways lmao)
Bucky took the quiche, arching an eyebrow at Steve. "Yes, but you're only taller by, what, two inches? At the most?"
( ;) )
Steve shrugged, taking a bite of his quiche, "Mhm, and you still think you could beat me?" He said with a playful smile.
"Of course I could, punk." Bucky retorted, taking a bite of his own food. "When have I ever not been able to beat you?"
Steve let out a soft laugh, looking down shyly as he thought back to their fight on the Helicarrier. "You probably don't remember–" He chuckled, shaking his head, "–But I can recall a few rounds of elementary school kickball that you were sore about the whole walk home."
"So that was the only time? Way back in elementary school? So in like…the 1930's? Ninety years ago?" Bucky challenged, laughing a little bit.
"Can it, jerk," Steve said through his laughs, playfully shoving him, "We've fought before, you know I could take ya'."
Bucky stepped back, out of Steve's reach. "Ha. Maybe, but the fact that you can only remember a time from elementary school says otherwise."