Thirteen

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Ayyyy I'm literally 1 vote off of 300 and I know it might not seem like a lot but I thank you very much for getting me at least this far. I love writing his book and having people actually read and vote makes it all worthwhile.

Writing Bucky's character in this fic is honestly just 1000% me

Tony Starks longer hair is my thing, I love it bc it's so curly

Here's some Steve to make up for the lack of in the last three chapters

Here's some Steve to make up for the lack of in the last three chapters

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"Turn off that phone or snapping it in half, Punk."Bucky grumbles, half of his face buried into one of the Steves pillows, hogging most of the blankets that he has wrapped himself around. It's not even that late - depending on who you asked - but he's tired and as much as he would like to pretend that he's interested on whoever it is that Steve is texting or doing on his phone, he really doesn't give a shit.

Usually sleeping in Steves house is Bucky's place of escape, it's always a lot quieter than living in a household filled with younger little sisters and a mom that won't get off his back about this and that. Steves house has always been his place of escape, a place where he can sleep without being woken up by fingers jabbing at his sides for him to help with his little sisters maths problems and a place where he can freely eat whatever is in the fridge without being swatted or f the kitchen by his mom or judged on his eating habits.

"You do know you don't have to sleep here, Y'know. You have a perfectly good house across the fucking road."Steve mutters, fingers moving on the keyboard of his flip phone to type out a message to Tony, adding to the string of unanswered messages that he has already sent. The phone is so small inbetween Steves hands, and Bucky would laugh at the situation if he wasn't so damn pissed off.

Steve has his bottom lip worried away as he stares at the string of messages that he has sent Tony as if he's trying to find something that he had said that had been off putting. Usually, Tony was a fast replier - so fast that he's texting out more replies in the space it takes Steve to write one word - so for Tony not to reply as soon as possible, it was making Steve a little paranoid.

Of course, he has to accept the fact that Tony is home, and as much as he had said in his previous text of how his parents seemed to straight up make no fuss about his return, it didn't mean he hadn't things to do. He could be catching up on sleep, and god knows that Steve knows how much Tony likes to sleep when he can.

"You try sleeping in a house filled with chicks. I fell asleep on the sofa once and woke up with a fucking manicure. My nails were fucking purple for 2 weeks."He grumbles into the pillow, shifting so that even though half of his face was stuffed into the pillow, his body is turned towards where Steve is sitting up on the bed, beside lamp flicked on and Cheeto packets lining the floor.

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