[ Ransom doesn't bother texting back. Ten minutes was more than enough time given they were in the same building and it was an elevator ride down to get to Steve, but it was surprise that kept him from responding. He stood there for a minute or two before he snapped out of it. Good thing he'd showered already. He might be in loose sweats and a tank top, he was having a lazy night in okay, but he could tell from Steve's messages that it wouldn't matter.
He kicks his slippers on and is outside of Steve's door a few minutes later. He knocks. ]
Open up, big guy.
[ When it does, he's got his brows raised and his arms spread wide. Sorry, Steve, he's dramatic. ]
Do your worst.
[ But don't actually because he isn't a superhuman. Ransom isn't even aware that Steve is or that Bucky was, besides the arm. Bucky was always careful with him and never talked about it. ]
[in the back of his mind, he knows this is a bad idea. knows that he's making a big mistake here. but it's a part of him that's long since been numbed, both by alcohol and loss. it'd been the idea of spending another night in a mostly empty apartment that had ultimately led to him sending the message. and ransom had ended up the target of it because somehow he was the least complicated option for him.
so when the knock comes, ransom isn't left waiting too long. the dogs are already tucked away in the master bedroom. his bedding folded up and left on the end of the sofa in an attempt at showing he's a lot more put together than he feels.
but all of that is pushed to the wayside when the door's opened up and he finally lays eyes on, well, himself. sort of. there's no response. nothing verbal, at least. instead, steve just twists a hand into the front of ransom's top and pulls him inside. just long enough to shut the door and push him back up against it.]
You know what to do.
[or at least he'll be able to work it out, given that steve's own sweats are promptly pushed down to his knees in an obvious request (order)]
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He kicks his slippers on and is outside of Steve's door a few minutes later. He knocks. ]
Open up, big guy.
[ When it does, he's got his brows raised and his arms spread wide. Sorry, Steve, he's dramatic. ]
Do your worst.
[ But don't actually because he isn't a superhuman. Ransom isn't even aware that Steve is or that Bucky was, besides the arm. Bucky was always careful with him and never talked about it. ]
no subject
so when the knock comes, ransom isn't left waiting too long. the dogs are already tucked away in the master bedroom. his bedding folded up and left on the end of the sofa in an attempt at showing he's a lot more put together than he feels.
but all of that is pushed to the wayside when the door's opened up and he finally lays eyes on, well, himself. sort of. there's no response. nothing verbal, at least. instead, steve just twists a hand into the front of ransom's top and pulls him inside. just long enough to shut the door and push him back up against it.]
You know what to do.
[or at least he'll be able to work it out, given that steve's own sweats are promptly pushed down to his knees in an obvious request (order)]