A Matter of Timing
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A work by rhiw posted on commaful. see the rest: https://archiveofourown.o...

A Matter of Timing

It was never really dark in New York nowadays, Steve mused as he watched over the city he’d once known like the back of his hand and now barely recognized.

It was nearly three in the morning and yet it was still so bright you could hardly see the stars.

There had been light pollution back when Steve had been growing up too, but it was nothing like what it was now. It was still just as cold in fall though, at least that hadn't changed.

That was something, even if the soldier shivered as he found himself trying to memorize a whole new skyline.

His apartment in the Avenger's Tower was fairly high up and the breeze was sharp and constant, pushing easily through his layered long sleeve sleep shirt and hoodie and made his skin prickle.

Growing up in the Depression Steve was no stranger to cold.

How many nights had he lay awake, shivering and shaking despite being tangled so tightly against Bucky it was hard to tell where one started and the other ended?

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