“You’re in my spot,” Bucky said, looming over Steve.
Steve glanced up at him. “I’m drawing.” He was not going to give up his spot at the window. Bucky was just doing it to annoy him.
“Fine then,” Bucky said, and Steve didn’t like the smirk he wore. “Guess I’ll just take it.”
He sat down, and jesus christ, was he heavy. “Get up!” Steve pushed ineffectually at Bucky’s back, but Backy just ground back harder.
“Said you were in my spot, not my fault you didn’t move.” He opened his book and turned a page. He squirmed, pushing more into Steve. “Ah, that’s better. Now where was I?”
“Hey. Hey!” Steve started tapping at Bucky’s shoulder. He was leaning back, putting pressure on his chest. “Can’t breathe here,” he choked out. “Off!”
Bucky finally let himself get shoved off while laughing. “So you gonna give me the seat now?”
“Not on your life,” Steve said.
Bucky sat back down on him.
“You’re in my seat.”
Steve put down his art pad and looked pointedly at the rest of the window seat. “There’s a lot of room here. You can even stretch out if you like. If there’s one thing Stark is good at, it’s space.”
Bucky shook his head. “I want to sit there.”
Steve picked up his art pad again and went back to drawing. “Too bad.”
“You asked for it.”
Bucky sat on Steve. Steve had to hold up his pad to keep Bucky from squashing it.
“Hey.” Steve stared down at the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky wiggled back, trying to push Steve further into the seat, but it didn’t do anything.
“Well this is… Not what I expected,” Bucky said.
Steve smirked. “Guess I win this one.” He wrapped his arms around Bucky and pulled him so that his chest was pressed to Bucky’s back. Bucky was barely any weight on him at all. He continued to draw, even though it was a bit of an awkward reach.
Bucky was obviously pouting, but he chuckled when he reached back and touched a patch of open skin between Steve’s shirt and pants with his metal hand. Steve yelped at the cold.
“War’s not over,” Bucky said.