It's a good quarter of an hour before the water shuts off, and another minute or so before Bucky strolls back out, shirtless save for his tags and the damp towel slung around his neck to catch the water still dripping from his hair. His t-shirt's draped over the crook of his elbow, along with a clean towel.
He's also barefoot, holding a washcloth together with his socks in one hand, and his boots in the other.
"There's chocolate in the seams," he grumbles, as he crosses to the bed and sits down. Bucky dumps his socks and shirt in a heap to one side, then spreads out the clean towel, sets his boots on it, and begins scrubbing away at one of them with the washcloth. "Worse than mud."
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It's a good quarter of an hour before the water shuts off, and another minute or so before Bucky strolls back out, shirtless save for his tags and the damp towel slung around his neck to catch the water still dripping from his hair. His t-shirt's draped over the crook of his elbow, along with a clean towel.
He's also barefoot, holding a washcloth together with his socks in one hand, and his boots in the other.
"There's chocolate in the seams," he grumbles, as he crosses to the bed and sits down. Bucky dumps his socks and shirt in a heap to one side, then spreads out the clean towel, sets his boots on it, and begins scrubbing away at one of them with the washcloth. "Worse than mud."