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[Pepper: Hey Steve, could you do me a /huge/ favor?]
[Steve: Anything for you Pepp]
[Steve: Buuuuuut even better if it can wait 45 mins until this class is over lol]
[Pepper: Yeah that’s fine lol Can you stop by my office and get Tony’s phone for him? He left it when he left for practice]
[Steve: No problem :) I’ll see you in 45]
As promised, Steve makes his way to Stark Tower after class and thanks the gods that it’s not far. He grabs Tony’s phone and chats with Pepper for the few minutes she’s free. She tells him they’re doing Romeo and Juliet, basing it off of Baz Luhrmann version. She rolls her eyes fondly when she says, “It was Tony’s idea, of course.”
When he makes his way into the theater, Tony is up on stage with what has to be the most gorgeous man Steve’s ever seen. He knows his eyes widen behind his large lenses as he bites his lip.
“But new struck nine,” Tony crows to him, ignoring the bang as the door closes itself behind the blond. Benvolio then, huh? That means that the angel up there is-
“Ay me!” he recites. Romeo. Steve sucks in a breath. “Sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?”
“It was,” Tony goes on, but he spots Steve at the back of the auditorium and makes a subtle little motion for him to come up to the stage. He’s got a wicked grin on his face and Steve knows he’s not interrupting on purpose, knows this is one of Steve’s favorite scenes, has heard him swoon over young Leo every time. Suddenly he curses himself for watching this movie with Tony so often. “What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?”
The long-haired brunet doesn’t break character, just keeps going. “Not having that, which having, makes them short.”
“In love?” and as he says it, Tony waggles his eyebrows at Steve suggestively.
The blond makes it nearly to the stage but can’t take his eyes off the man next to his friend, can’t bring himself to interrupt. Instead, he just flops down in the front row.
“Out-“
“Of love?”
“Out of her favor, where I am in love.”
And that’s when Tony finally breaks character.
“Steve-o!” he calls with a grin, despite Steve now being right in front of him. The whole rest of the cast and crew lets out a groan. Tony ignores them, of course, and hops down off the front of the stage.
“Really Tony?” the brunet asks, popping a hip as he crosses his arms over his chest, looking annoyed.
“Oh come on,” Tony scrunches up his face as he glances back over his shoulder. “Do you really expect me to believe you don’t have this whole play memorized?” He turns his attention back to the blond and grins, pulling him into a tight hug and kissing his cheek. “You’re a lifesaver babe.”
Steve laughs and shakes his head as he hugs him back. When he pulls back he tugs Tony’s phone out of his pocket and hands it over. “I did this for Pepper and only for Pepper,” he teases, sticking out a pierced tongue. “Hey!” he shouts as Tony snatches his glasses right off his face.
“What a bully,” the brunet half-scolds, half-teases him as he hops down off the stage to join them. “Is this the artist you were talking about?” he asks.
Steve feels his cheeks flush as he’s pouting and holding his hands out for his glasses. “You were talking about me, huh?” he asks, pretending he’s not blushing. Nope, he’s cool as a watermelon or however that phrase goes.
“Maaayybe,” Tony coos, a smirk forming on his lips as he finally hands his glasses back.
When Steve slips them on and can see again, his dream man is smiling at him fondly, holding a hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Bucky.”
“Steve,” the blond replies, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too.” He turns his attention back to Tony. “So you were talking about me?” he asks again. “You only usually do that if you want something.” He gives his friend a look and Tony tries his best to look innocent, batting his eyelashes and everything, but Steve knows better. “So what is it?” he asks. “Out with it.”
Almost everyone has wandered off by now, working on whatever else they can. But Sam, another one of Steve’s friends, and a redheaded woman with a headset and clipboard, have made their way to join the small group in front of the stage.
“Weeeeell,” Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders as he turns just enough to face the rest of the group, “you see, I was hoping you’d help us paint the sets.”
Steve rolls his eyes and shrugs his arm off. “Really Tone? And when do you think I have time for that?”
“You don’t even have any classes on Wednesdays!” Tony argues, turning to him and taking Steve’s hands in his, tugging him so they’re face to face, giving him full-on puppy dog eyes.
“Told ya you’re a bully,” Bucky snorts.
“I mean, I’m sure Riley wouldn’t mind helping,” Sam adds with a little shrug. Steve shoots him a glare and he grins, holding his hands up in defense. “You’re the best, man, and I want this to be a good show. Plus, you’d have so much freedom with this version. Think about it.”
Steve glances around the circle, at his friends and then at the stunning brunet with the smirk on his lips, and he already knows his answer.
He lets out a little huff, running tattooed fingers through his hair and shaking his head as he sighs, “Fine, fine, I’ll do it.”
*
Week after week goes by and friendships form quickly as Steve works diligently with the crew (and sometimes Riley) while the cast practices tirelessly. Despite her best efforts, though, Sharon – their Juliet – is just not managing it. The words just aren’t sticking in her brain or something.
“…that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-“ Bucky is reciting, and Steve’s impressed. He hasn’t needed a script once since Steve has started coming to practices (and the sets are almost done by now, so it’s been a while).
“Oh swear not by the moon,” Shannon crows, but she doesn’t exactly sound sure of herself, “the inconsistent moon, that… that…” she cuts off with a frustrated groan and a sigh. “Line?” she calls.
“That monthly changes in her circled orb,” Steve calls, without even thinking about it, before Natasha can answer. He mindlessly twirls the paintbrush in his hand as he speaks. “Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”
The entire auditorium is staring at him now, open-mouthed in shock. That is, except Tony, who’s just grinning at him from the front row, looking smug as hell.
Bucky, eyebrows quirked, takes a step past Sharon and says experimentally, “Then what shall I swear by?”
It’s only then that Steve realizes what he’s done. A blush blooms on his cheeks as he rises to his feet and glances around the auditorium, at everyone’s faces. Tony gives him a thumbs up. Of course he does.
He turns toward Bucky, paintbrush still dangling from his fingertips, and, more quietly this time, goes on. “Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.” The longer he goes, the wider Bucky’s smile gets.
“If my heart’s dear love-“ he takes another step forward.
“Well, do not swear,” Steve continues, letting the paintbrush drop to the newspaper at his feet. He’s getting into it now, adding in the blocking as he inches closer to Bucky, more center-stage. He knows everyone is still staring at him, but he’s lost in the taller man’s eyes and he just cannot make himself give a shit. “Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night!” He turns his back to the other man, a shy smile on his lips.
Bucky looks amazed behind him. Taking the final step forward, he rests his hands on Steve’s hips and presses his chest to the smaller man’s back. “Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” he stage-whispers and it sends a shiver down Steve’s spine.
The blond turns so they’re face to face, toe to toe, barely an inch apart when he looks up at him. “What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” He doesn’t know what has come over him. All he knows are those storm cloud eyes.
Bucky’s still grinning as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, lips nearly brushing as he speaks, and Steve isn’t really sure if they’re still just reciting lines anymore. “The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.”
“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it,” Steve whispers this time, cheeks still bright pink as he finally pulls himself away.
Bucky, leaning forward for the kiss, finds nothing but air and nearly topples over. The whole auditorium is silent, still open-mouthed.
Cheeks burning, Steve bends down to grab his paintbrush and tries to focus on the backdrop he’s finishing, tries to ignore the eyes on him, the fact that no one’s moved or said a word.
“Can I just give him my part?” Sharon shouts, throwing her arms up.
And just like that, the spell’s broken. Chatter fills the room.
Except Bucky, who’s still where Steve left him, watching him with an unreadable expression.
“Where the fucking fuck did that come from Rogers?!” Sam calls, stomping up to the front of the stage.
When Steve glances over his shoulder to shoot Sam a look, he notices Tony smirking and giving him a thumbs up. Again. Of course he is.
“I like Romeo and Juliet,” Steve responds with a little shrug.
Natasha, who had been lurking from the front row, expression unreadable, finally stands up. She looks back and forth between Sharon and Steve for a long moment before finally focusing her attention on Sharon.
“You wanna give him your part?” she asks, dead serious.
“If he fuckin’ wants it!” Sharon replies, hands on her hips as she pops one out.
“Well?” the redhead asks him, shifting her gaze to the small blond.
Steve goes wide-eyed, head snapping to meet Nat’s gaze. He looks like a deer in headlights. “What?” His voice cracks on the word and Tony snorts from where he’s still seated in the front row.
“Do you want the part? You wanna be Juliet? We’ll have to change the name, and you’ll have to wear your contacts,” she mumbles under her breath to herself, then shrugs, “but whatever. Fuck it.”
Steve’s sure the blush is spreading all the way down his chest as he meets her eyes and swallows hard. “I’m not an actor,” he says, holding his hands up in defense.
“Could have fooled me,” she retorts. The cast and crew let out little murmurs of agreement and encouragement.
The blond grips his paintbrush tighter, fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot, as he ponders the idea. “I, uh, I dunno,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and effectively smearing paint in his hair. “Can I think about it?” he asks, chewing on his bottom lip.
*
“Steve!” Bucky calls, running to catch up with him later that night. “Hey, Steve! Wait up!”
Steve feels his cheeks heat up already at the sound of the familiar voice. “Oh, hey,” he says, trying to play it cool as he stops and turns. “What’s up?”
Bucky grins at him as he comes to a stop in front of him, much closer than the blond had anticipated.
“You think you’re gonna take the part?” he asks, brushing his bangs back with a hand through his hair. It’s a decidedly young Leo move and it makes Steve swoon just a little.
“I dunno,” he mumbles, stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “I’m really not an actor,” he laughs softly, nervously. “I’m an artist Buck.”
“You were amazing,” Bucky assures him, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Is it the stage fright? Everyone gets it, even the pros.” But then something seems to click in his head and a whole range of emotions flashes across his face as he pulls his hand back. “Oh… Is it the kiss?” he asks, more guarded now.
“No!” Steve blushes, hands flying out in front of himself. Due to the small distance between them, they end up pressed against Bucky’s chest. “No, it’s not the kiss,” he says, eyes shifting toward his feet as he quickly drops his hands. “I’m bi and you’re, like, the most gorgeous man alive. It’s not that. I promise.” Oh god, did he say that out loud? He wonders if his cheeks are ever going to be their normal color today. When is this torture going to end? He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet just a little. “I just… getting up on the stage… I don’t think I can do that,” he says, shaking his head.
But Bucky’s cheeks are tinted pink now too when Steve finally has the courage to look up at him again. “I’m sure you could,” he says, tugging one of Steve’s hands free and taking it in his own. He laces their fingers and looks in his eyes and Steve is gone. “And, think about it,” Bucky goes on, voice like honey, “wouldn’t it be great? Imagine actually putting on a queer Romeo and Juliet. We’d be doing Baz proud,” he smirks.
And that’s it. That’s it. He knows his answer. Steve has left the building- the planet, even! Permanently, probably.
Shit.
Shit shit shit!
The blond takes a deep breath and huffs out a laugh, his eyes slipping closed as he tips his head back toward the sky.
“Fine,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face as he drops his head, lets his eyes catch Bucky’s again. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
The taller man looks like Steve had just given him a puppy or something, a thousand-watt grin on his face as he pumps his fists and hops around a little. “Yes!” he laughs. “Hell yes! I’m gonna text Nat right now!”
Steve lets out a chuckle despite himself, shaking his head as he sighs again. “What did I get myself into?” he mumbles.
“Something great Rogers. Something great,” Tony replies as he brushes past them. And Steve has half a mind to think that fucker might have planned this.
*
“Julian!” Natasha announces the next day as she enters the auditorium with a loud bang of the door slamming into the wall, a wide, proud grin on her face.
Everyone, startled, turns to look at her, faces screwed up in confusion.
“Uuuuhhh, what?” Tony asks, looking skeptical.
Steve is standing on the stage, fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably, while the costume team takes his measurements. Bucky is watching, thoroughly amused, from a couple feet away. She storms up to them, that grin never leaving her face, glancing back and forth between them once she’s stopped in front of them.
“Julian,” she says again. “Romeo and Julian. Get it?”
A collective “oooooh” makes its way around the room.
“That’s a good one,” Steve says with a nod, a shy smile playing on his lips.
“Very nice,” Bucky laughs, flashing two thumbs up.
“Alright, enough praise,” Nat says, waving the costume team off. “Are you guys done yet? I wanna get started.”
“Yeah, this is the last one,” Peter tells her, clipboard in hand, as Gwen strings the measuring tape around Steve’s waist.
And just like that Steve’s swept into it. He’s been around Sam and Tony enough to be familiar with rehearsals. This isn’t his first rodeo. He’s helped them run lines a thousand times - a million! Not to mention, those two have gotten him to paint more sets and do more makeup than he’s really proud to admit. But how can he say no to them?
So it doesn’t really hit him, the fact that he’s part of this now.
Not until the rest of the cast is milling around stage.
Until he and Bucky are pressed back to back, fingers laced, and Bucky is reciting, “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” As he speaks, they both glance over their shoulders occasionally, catching glimpses of the other, faces pressed close.
On the last line, Bucky turns toward him and drops a knee just slightly, switching the grip on his hand to bring it up to his lips and press a light kiss to his knuckles. Steve blushes as he pulls his hand back, turning to face Bucky as he rises again, and he almost forgets the damn lines.
“Good pilgrim,” he barely manages, “you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” He takes a step back and laces his fingers together behind his back delicately.
“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Bucky smirks at him and he’s not sure if he’s going to survive to see opening night, not sure if he wants to.
“Aye, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” Steve somehow keeps his cool, smiling sweet and demure and batting his lashes.
“Oh then, dear saint,” Bucky rushes forward and wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him close. He’s got mischief in his eyes. “Let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Steve is sure the other man can feel his pulse racing, can see the hitch in the rise and fall of his chest. He must.
“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” he recites, and it’s only then that he remembers what comes next.
The kiss. Shit! He is not ready for this! Not yet.
But he can’t stop it now, they’re in the middle of rehearsal and he agreed to this.
“Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take.” And it’s like it happens in slow motion, Bucky pulling him impossibly closer, resting his free hand on his cheek as he leans forward and presses their lips together. The kiss is so soft, so tender, so warm and wonderful and so unbelievably intense, Steve swears his heart stops for a minute. He barely notices the rest of the cast and crew howling and whistling at them. When the brunet pulls back they’re both having trouble breathing, but Bucky goes on, “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged,” and then surges in for another kiss. The cheering gets louder. Assholes.
“Then have my lips the sin that they have took?” Steve manages, even more breathless, when they finally pull apart again.
“Sin from my lips?” Bucky laughs, low and dark, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “Oh, trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” And, fuck, Steve forgot how many damn times they kiss in this play. And, damn it all, he was right. He was not ready for this.
His head is spinning and he’s sure it’s noticeable. He trips over his own feet when he goes to pull back as they part and Bucky has to catch him with that arm around his waist again, chuckling as the blond laughs nervously, plays it off.
“You kiss by the book.”
“Aaaaaand break!” Natasha calls, brows quirked in amusement, eyes trained on the smaller man.
Steve pries himself away, successfully this time, and thanks Bucky quietly under his breath. He mutters some excuse about checking on Peter and Gwen and rushes out the door at the back of the stage.
Instead of going to costuming, though, he leans against the wall a few feet down the hall, steadying himself as he catches his breath. He’s going to kill Tony. Absolutely, one hundred percent going to kill him. And maybe Sam, too, for encouraging him. He’s sure he was involved somehow. Maybe Natasha, for agreeing to give him the part, Sharon for suggesting it. (Fuck, were they all in on it?)
Himself, for taking it. How could he be so stupid?
He’s so lost in his own head, too busy wishing he’d brought his inhaler, he doesn’t even notice the door open down the hall, not really.
Bucky clears his throat and looks almost timid as he approaches Steve, running a hand through his hair. “You okay?” he asks quietly.
Steve lets out a wheezy little hum as he nods. “Yeah, yep, totally fine,” he lies.
“You don’t look okay,” the brunet chuckles softly.
“I told you,” the smaller man laughs bitterly, “I’m not an actor.”
Bucky stops in front of him, studying him for a long minute as Steve just stares at the ground. He can’t bring himself to look up.
“It kinda seemed like it was more than just stage fright,” he says finally, crossing his arms over his chest.
Steve doesn’t respond, doesn’t even know how too, just keeps his gaze trained on his own feet as he reminds himself how to breathe. In and out, slowly, slowly. In and out. The silence grows awkward as it stretches out, the brunet watching him as he take deep, wheezing breaths.
Finally, Steve glances up at him. “I’m fine,” he says, holding a hand up as he slides down the wall to sit. “I promise. You don’t have to babysit me.”
Bucky chuckles as he makes his way over and settles down next to him. “I know. It’s not that,” he says, leaning over and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. There’s another long silence, then, “You’re so cute,” he muses. “You know that?”
“What?” the blond balks, though he doesn’t move for fear of disturbing the other man.
But Bucky sits up anyway and turns to look at him, an amused smile on his face. Steve blushes as he turns too, sees that smile.
“Do you wanna go out with me sometime?” Bucky asks, grin growing even as Steve’s eyes go wide and his blush darkens.
“What?!” he asks, a little louder, and the brunet laughs.
“Do you wanna go out with me?” he repeats. “I was gonna wait until opening night to ask you, all dramatic and shit. Theater kid.” He laughs and points to himself. “But I don’t think I can keep kissing you onstage and just…. leave it at that.” He smirks. “I wanna kiss you off stage too. All night would be nice, if you think you’re up for it. And with the mini heart attack you had out there, I think you probably feel the same.”
Steve babbles and mutters incoherently, the blush creeping all the way down his chest as he gestures wildly but just can’t find words. And Bucky just laughs at him, light and amused, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and tells him he’s cute again.
“Yes!” the blond manages finally, throwing his arms up. “I mean, duh! Yes!” And he’s laughing too now as Bucky reaches out and tugs him forward by the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss.