AN: Don't own Marvel.

The training room was large enough that six people could work out and no one would interfere with each other. Right now, there were only three people in the training room: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff. Natasha was spotting for Steve who was bench pressing while Bucky was running on the treadmill his normal before dinner ten mile run. The speakers were playing classical music today since Natasha had been dancing earlier, leading Bucky to put in his earbuds to zone out for a while.

Seventy years hadn't changed anything for the Brooklyn boys. Steve would periodically look over at Bucky to check on him and Bucky would do the same. Natasha muttered under her breath in a language neither of them knew about pining and old geezers that needed to get together already. Barton, who apparently knew that language, would laugh every time he heard her say those phrases. Today was no different. Steve glanced at Bucky and Bucky glanced at Steve.

Only, today, Steve felt a little off. His muscles had been feeling a little off since the fight yesterday and his heart had been running a little faster than normal. He couldn't figure out what had him acting like he was, but he brushed it off and assumed that his body would process it out in time.

"Steve, your arms are trembling," Natasha remarked. He brought the bar down to his chest and started to push it back up. His face began to turn red as he struggled against the weight in his hands. "Steve?"

"Help," he panted. Natasha pulled with all her might to get the bar up and into the rest. Halfway up, Steve's hands gave but Natasha was able to get it all the way to the rest. Bucky, ever watchful of his punk, noticed immediately and jumped off the treadmill. Steve rolled off the bench and onto the floor, his chest heaving and body trembling.

"Get a doctor," Bucky ordered Natasha. The red head was out of the room faster than Clint after his children when they were getting into trouble. Bucky picked Steve up off the floor and cradled him in his lap. The blond's eyes were closed, his face pale. "Steve, come on Stevie, wake up," he coaxed. He stroked the blond's face with the back of his cool metal arm. Steve seemed to lean into the cool temperature, so Bucky cupped Steve's face in his hand to expose his hand to a greater area. "You're scaring me. Come on Steve, I can't live without you. Open those pretty eyes of yours for me."

Stubbornly though, his eyes remained closed. Steve grew unnaturally still in his arms, his breathing shallow and quick. Bucky felt as if it was the 20s or 30s again when he was watching Steve struggle against some disease that that could take him away far too easily. He thought that was all over now, now that they were together again in the safety of the 21st Century where their serums kept them from getting ill and all they had to worry about were injuries.

"Stevie, wake up."

In that moment, he did something he had wished he had done nearly a century ago. He leant down and pressed his lips against those of the man that he loved. Years of repressed feelings came out as he held Steve close to his chest and kissed him. Warm tears slid down his face and dove to Steve's to create bridges of refracting light. Tenderness traveled along his lips to work on unlocking and awakening that brilliant mouth of Steve's.

Just as he thought it, Steve came back to life under him. He took a deep breath. One hand reached up to tangle itself in Bucky's hair, which had been pulled up into a loose bun hours earlier, while the other hand moved to wrap around Bucky's middle. His lips worked against Bucky's, soft at first as if testing the waters, before growing more passionate. Steve drew him into a deeper kiss, the decades of repressed emotion between them flowing between their lips. Euphoria filled them.

Eventually, they had to breathe. Bucky pulled back enough from Steve's lips that he could let his eyes wander the blond's face. Blue eyes with flecks of green stared up at him, wide and blown out. Steve tightened his grip on the back of Bucky's head slightly, his fingers massaging his scalp. The hand on his waist pulled until Steve pulled tighter. Chuckling, Bucky readjusted his arms to cradle Steve's head and torso.

"You scared me," Bucky admitted. He kissed Steve's forehead softly. "You wouldn't respond."

"Felt like I was a thousand feet under water. You know Buck, I can't live without you either."

"You heard that."

"I love you," Steve cut him off. Bucky stared at him for half a minute. "I love you and I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world."

"You just had to beat me to saying it," Bucky complained. He gave him a grin anyway before kissing his love again. "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, even if you are a punk."

"Jerk."

"You're both hopeless romantics. Let's figure out what made Steve collapse, shall we?" Natasha questioned. Both men looked up to find her standing there with a doctor, two nurses, Clint, Sam, and Wanda. Clint and Wanda were handing Sam and Natasha twenties from their wallets.

"They had a bet," Bucky said with a huff.

"We bet on everything," Clint replied. "Only way to keep things interesting around here. So tell me Barnes, has Rogers gotten better at kissing since the time he kissed Natasha?"

An audible groan escaped the blond's lips while Bucky demanded to be told the story. The medical team were forced to work around the rather talkative superheroes and one overprotective boyfriend who refused to let Steve out of his arms.

Natasha sent a picture of them to Stark who had to pay $100 dollars a piece to Sam and Natasha. Stark said they had been dating since the 40s but today proved him wrong. Drinks were on Sam and Natasha that weekend.