(ahhhaa that'd be one wild Pinterest board for home improvement)
"Mhm, maybe," Steve said, nodding as he briefly glanced over at another rollercoaster and a particularly loud screamer, "But– I think it would soften the whole…modern look of the space. I mean, I've thought about getting myself a real place to call home, but that floor at Stark Tower could be something nice."
(lmao yeah it would)
Bucky nodded, finishing up his food. "Yeah. But you also could ask Tony about redecorating? At least for your room, if you like."
"Hah, I don't know much about interior design," Steve said, smiling as he thought of his currently empty apartment and how it seemed the opposite of homey, with its creaky floorboards and low ceiling– which, in a way, reminded him of his old apartment before the war, "But, maybe. I'd kinda feel weird about living at the tower permanently. Especially with the possibility of Tony waltzing in at any moment."
Bucky nodded a little bit. "Ah. Right. So would you be movign back to your apartment, then, or what's your plan?"
Steve shrugged, letting out a bashful laugh. "I dunno," He said, sighing softly, "Probably not gonna go back to that apartment; maybe I'll look for a brownstone in Brooklyn– one with higher ceilings? But I think I'm just gonna wait to see how things turn out, with the world, and the news and…you 'n me."
Bucky nodded a little bit. "Oh. Right." He replied, wonderihow the world would react. How people would think of them when they found out.
"What about you?" Steve asked, running a finger along the edge of the table as he thought of the whimsical plans of living together in a castle when they were kids, "You thinkin' 'bout staying at the tower?"
Bucky shrugged. "I guess I figured I'd go with you, but I don't have to." he replied softly, glancing over at Steve for a moment.
Steve tried not to smile at that, but he couldn't help it. "No– yeah. Yeah, of course, you could totally come with me– or, live with me, yeah." Steve said a little shyly, trying not to blush at the idea of them living together in a place of their own.
Bucky smiled happily at that. "Alright. I just…I don't want to stay in the tower alone, I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Hm. You wouldn't be alone though; you'd have all those framed pictures to keep you company," Steve said with a faint laugh, "But seriously, I'm kind of excited about looking at a bunch of real estate in the future. And decorating too, wildly enough. I never thought I'd say that."
Bucky laughed faintly. "Well, you'll have a whole house to paint and decorate and furnish." he replied with a shrug, looking over at Steve.
Steve smiled as he let out a happy sigh, thinking about those furniture catalogues the future him would thoughtfully consider as he planned for his home. "Well…if we're gonna live together in that house, I think you should get a say– in what colour to paint the walls and whatnot."
Bucky blinked. "But it won't be my house, it's yours. I don't…" he trailed off, looking away for a moment and unsure if Steve really meant that.
Steve shook his head, wearing a faint smile, "No…it would be our house, kind of. You'd live there, and I'd live there, so…" He mistook Bucky's shifting glance as his opposition to the idea, "Oh– unless that's too much, or…too fast for us?"
"No, I just…I thought it would be your place, just until I'm…a functioning person again. Not…" Bucky trailed off. "I…I don't know."
"Oh." Steve quietly remarked, raising his eyebrows a bit. "But…you are a functioning person. I mean, you're still processing some stuff, but what makes you think you aren't good enough to share a home?"
"I'm not a functioning person, though. I've still got all this…HYDRA shit in my brain. I don't know." he replied.
"Hey, Bucky," Steve softly tried, instinctively reaching out to touch his hand, though remembered how hard he flinched when he didn't want to be touched and let it linger on the table instead, "I told you, you're still healing from all that. And there are ways to make it more manageable, right?"
Bucky shrugged his shoulders, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know." he replied, looking down at his metal hand where it rested on the table. The hand that was so much stronger than he had ever wanted to be, that had torn the lives from so many.
"Well…even if you don't know now–" Steve said, slowly moving his hand to rest on top of Bucky's, feeling the cool metal beneath his palm, "We'll figure it out together as we go." He smiled faintly, "The important thing is that you're safe and trying to get better, right? Even if you're not ready for therapy or anything like that, you're still a functioning person, I think."
Bucky looked at him, biting his lower lip a little bit. "Steve, I…I'm not sure about that." He said slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"Why not?" Steve prompted, speaking softly as he studied his expression, "You're a person. You've gone through some stuff, but you still deserve a place to call home."
Bucky shrugged. "I meant I'm not sure I qualify as a…fully functioning individual." He replied, letting out a faint breath.
"Bucky, of course you qualify," Steve said, his eyebrows faintly drawing together. "It's not about your arm, is it?" He asked, running a gentle touch over his cool metal hand.