Chapter Text
Steve hadn't been back to Brooklyn since...well, since his own death. It wasn't like he'd been avoiding the place, he'd just never had an assignment that took him to New York, and he hadn't left anyone behind who mattered enough to check in on. Returning now felt both strange and appropriate; strange in that the neighborhood bore no resemblance to the city he'd left, but appropriate that he'd finish the last of his required angel rotation assignments right here where he'd spent his mortal life. It was like he'd come full circle, in a way.
Thinking of things coming around again, Steve was happy that fashion had made a full circle back to clothing that wasn't horrible. The last time he'd needed to take corporeal form had been in the early '90s, and he'd been forced to blend in with the goth crowd. This time, his cover identity meant dressing in what Coulson called "hipster" style, which Steve understood to be "what he used to wear when he'd been alive." It felt kind of comforting to be dressed in a button-down shirt, v-neck sweater, work boots, and straight-legged jeans. (Although any jeans that fit Steve were, by definition, "skinny jeans".) Black-framed glasses, which he didn't actually need, and a military-surplus style backpack completed the broke-but-stylish effect, and he blended in easily with the Saturday morning crowd on Court Street.
His assignment lived in a three-bedroom pre-war walkup, only blocks away from transportation, shopping, excellent restaurants, and a large park. Steve knew that from the ad that James Barnes had placed, desperately searching for a roommate to fill an immediate vacancy. A vacancy that Steve had created by arranging for Bucky's previous tenant to be offered a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity at the Sorbonne which required moving to Paris with only a few weeks' notice. To make certain that he'd be the top candidate for what would otherwise be a prime rental in Brooklyn Heights, Steve had blocked all but the most off-the-wall of e-mail applications from going through. (If he couldn't legitimately beat out the woman with 23 cockatiels, or the guy who insisted the apartment be painted entirely in "blood orange" before moving in, he didn't deserve his wings.) Steve had to admit, technology had made angelic meddling much simpler. Repeatedly bump one resume to the top of the list, weed out any legitimate roommate contenders, and he'd easily created a spot for himself in Bucky's life.
The ad hadn't lied - it took Steve only ten minutes to make the walk from the subway station to the address he was looking for. Technically, he could have chosen to simply appear on the sidewalk right in front of the tall, brick-fronted townhouse, but people might start screaming over a man materializing in their midst. So he'd gone the old-fashioned route, finding an empty subway platform in the Bronx where he could take physical form before hopping the 5 train all the way to Brooklyn. The journey had given him time to get accustomed to having a body again, and especially to practice the concentration necessary to keep his entire body from manifesting. Keeping his wings in an ethereal state while the rest of him remained solid required constant focus; it was like trying to go through your day keeping your fingers crossed. Better to get back in the habit in a train full of strangers he could mostly ignore before having to interact directly with his assignment, where his attention would necessarily be divided.
Steve admired the facade of the classic townhouse as he pressed the buzzer for the fourth floor apartment. The building was well-maintained, the brickwork enhanced by white trim, a surprisingly classy royal-blue front door, and neat rows of bright green hedges. He was willing to bet the top floor even had a view of downtown. As much as he was dreading this assignment, at least he'd be living in style while he was stuck here.
He was expecting to be buzzed in, but instead heard the pounding of feet on the stairs - apparently, Bucky was eager to welcome his new tenant. Steve had gone through the case file, of course, but was still surprised when the door was flung open by one of the most attractive men he'd ever seen. Athletic build, dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, soft blue eyes (or were they grey? green?), and an incredibly friendly smile added up to a much more compelling presence than Steve had expected. Not that he cared, of course, what Barnes looked like, other than to note that it would make his job easier. But then, it was cupid duty - any angel worth the title should be able to pull this off without breaking a sweat, no matter what the assignment looked like.
Steve drew his focus back to the task at hand, because Bucky was greeting him with, "Hey, Steve Grant, right? I'm Bucky. Really glad you could come by." The angel corps had been forced to take precautions in the internet age after a few instances when someone had decided to Google the new person in their life and stumbled upon evidence of that angel's actual human lifetime. Therefore, Steven Grant Rogers from Brooklyn had become Steve Grant from Boston in any assignment that required a cover identity. Another thing he'd have to keep in the back of his mind.
"Nice to meet you. Bucky? Is that a nickname?" Reaching to shake the hand that had been offered, he replied as though he hadn't taken a crash course in this man's entire history. They'd exchanged several e-mails to set everything up, but Bucky had signed all of his simply "Barnes." Bucky nodded but offered no explanation, instead turning back into the building as he motioned for Steve to follow him up the stairs. In his human life, Steve could never have handled four flights on a regular basis, but death had cured him off all his physical ailments. It had also made permanent his scrawny physique, something for which he was less grateful. He hadn't thought about that in ages, since he was rarely in physical form, but following Bucky's easy, muscular, stride up the stairs somehow brought back his mortal insecurities. This was the kind of guy he'd always envied - healthy, strong, attractive, and seemingly confident. He understood now, with decades of angelic oversight under his belt, that appearances could be deceptive. But still, this guy needed help finding love?
Reaching the very top of the stairs, they emerged onto a landing with a single door. Bucky's apartment occupied the entire fourth floor and, according to his ad, also had a private rooftop deck. Steve was expecting something nice, but as Bucky ushered him in, his jaw dropped. He couldn't help the soft "wow" that slipped out, because the apartment was amazing.
Bucky laughed. "Thanks. I'm an interior designer. When I bought this place a couple years ago, it was a complete gut job - I think even the rats were covered in bad '70s wallpaper. But I wanted something I could put my own stamp on, and it was a good deal, so...yeah." He trailed off, sounding embarrassed, but Steve was too fascinated looking around to fully notice. The apartment opened directly into a cozy living room that managed to somehow be warm and inviting even though the walls were painted black. Bucky had added a cushy sofa in brown leather, geometric print drapes, and vintage-looking accent pieces. Steve wanted to move into that room and never leave. The guy was talented, and Steve wished like hell that he was there as a muse - imagine what Bucky could do with even more inspiration?
Instead, he was stuck helping him find a romantic partner. First things first - finalize the rental agreement and lock in his position as Bucky's roommate. "This is awesome. Now I'm really glad the bedroom comes furnished," he joked. Bucky seemed relieved, like he'd been worried that Steve wouldn't like the apartment that was clearly his passion project.
"Yeah, let me show you the rest. If you like the room, and the apartment, I've got the lease agreement printed out and you can move right in." The living room opened onto a beautiful, sunny, kitchen that looked like it never got used for anything more complicated than making coffee. A hallway led to a surprisingly spacious bathroom, complete with a giant claw-foot tub, and three bedrooms. The first two doors led to Bucky's bedroom and office, but the doors were closed and Steve couldn't get a peek. Oh well; he'd have plenty of time to snoop later when he ditched his body. Opening the final door with a flourish, Bucky announced, "And this is the rental. We'd share the bathroom, but there's a desk in here and everything so you'd have plenty of personal space for studying or...whatever." He trailed off, seeming anxious for Steve's reaction to the room.
Steve had never paid much attention to decor, but it was clearly important to Bucky, and befriending Bucky was important to his mission. So he was determined to put on a pleased reaction even if this room didn't live up to the rest of what he'd already seen in the apartment. He needn't have worried, though, because Bucky was good at what he did. The furnishings were simple - a bed, a desk and chair, a few accents and some lighting - but Bucky had made the room feel simultaneously polished and inviting. The walls were an antique blue, but other than that, Bucky had wisely allowed the view to be the true star of the show, and Steve had guessed right - it was spectacular.
Dropping his bag, he turned to Bucky with a grin. "Where do I sign?" Even if he hadn't needed to live here for this assignment, it was a space he would have gladly spent time in. He'd always thought of furnishings as just...functional. You needed a bed to sleep in, a roof and walls to keep you warm and dry. Honestly, when he'd been mortal, he hadn't really had the budget to think beyond those basics. But with just a few pieces, Bucky had managed to create a sense of safety, of comfort and home in this room. Steve acknowledged it now as a form of art, a term he would have previously reserved for the grand spaces of the world, places like Versailles or the Taj Mahal. Art was something he could appreciate, and respect, and it gave him hope that he might not find this rotation as completely annoying as he'd feared. If he actually liked his assignment - which wasn't always the case - and they got along well, the time would pass quickly.
Back in the kitchen, Steve made a show of reading through the lease before signing it with a flourish. The wonderful blue room with the view of the city was now his for six months, but Steve would be gone long before then. He would, of course, find an appropriate sublet to finish out his lease so that Bucky wouldn't be left in the lurch. Unless Bucky decided he'd rather have his soon-to-be-matched partner move in than fill Steve's spot. It was definitely possible that Bucky'd be more than happy to get rid of his roommate when "Steve Grant" dropped out of school and moved home due to a family emergency.
Paperwork taken care of, Bucky gave Steve keys to the building and the apartment, then offered to show him "the rest." That consisted of a communal basement laundry room (that Steve would have to make use of for show) and the private rooftop deck. Before heading up, Bucky offered Steve a cold drink - "I don't drink alcohol, so I've got soda, iced tea, or water" - and they ended up watching the sunset while munching chips and salsa, drinking orange cream soda, and talking over Bucky's grand vision for the rooftop space that so far consisted of two lounge chairs and a rusty table.
"I'm telling you, it's gonna be spectacular. Wood planking, like a suburban deck, over half the roof. Then artificial grass over the other half. Only I'm gonna put the grass on a thick underlay, so we can stick croquet stakes and wickets in it. I've wanted my own croquet set since I saw Alice in Wonderland. When I'm ready to put the time and money in up here? I'm gonna find an artist to make wickets that look like arched playing cards, just like in the cartoon." Bucky was grinning like a loon, and Steve found he was actually enjoying spending time with the guy.
"If you do that, you've gotta get pink flamingo mallets." The animated version of Alice had been released after his time, but being an angel was the type of job that came with an eternity of spare time to soak up pop culture. He'd loved all things Disney since Snow White had hit theaters in '39, plus he found Bucky's enthusiasm - the sheer passion with which he described his vision for the space - mesmerizing. When Bucky described it, Steve could really picture what the barren rooftop could become - twinkling lights draped overhead, cushy seating areas and a grill for warm summer nights. He was almost sad that he wouldn't be around to see it happen.
Bucky was off and running, though, trying to decide if he knew any woodworkers who wouldn't balk at carving a set of flamingos for him. Or if he'd be better off having those 3D-printed, which was apparently an option these days; Steve needed to do some catching up on the most recent tech advances. More importantly, though, he needed to get down to business on the reason he'd been sent: to find Bucky a match. The sooner he got done, the sooner Steve could move on to his own dreams, which didn't include cupid duty or rooftop croquet flamingos. Accepting another soda - where had Bucky found butterbeer? - Steve settled in to enjoy the sunset. Once Bucky and the rest of the city were asleep, he'd get to work.
*****
As an angel, Steve could sleep, but he didn't actually require it. Which worked out well, since the middle of the night was the perfect time for research and intervention. Around eleven, he decided it was quiet enough in the apartment that Bucky was probably in his room for the night, and therefore unlikely to notice that Steve was not in his room. Standing up from where he'd been lying in the very comfortable bed and enjoying his city view, Steve let go of his physical form with a sense of relief. He loved having a body, but having only most of his body was exhausting. Becoming fully ethereal meant he could stop focusing on keeping his wings from taking form, with the added bonus that he could move around at will - in his angelic form, he'd have to actually put in effort to be seen by human eyes. It was time to arrange a match for Bucky, and Steve already knew where to start.
With no more than a thought, he was across town in Williamsburg, in the apartment of the woman who'd been first on Bucky's list of potentials. The list contained thirty-three names in total: people who had been identified as being of an acceptable age, gender, sexuality, and general interest group that they might be a match for his assignment. They were all close enough geographically that arranging for them to cross paths with Bucky was logistically plausible. Most importantly, they all shared the quality that had gotten Bucky assigned a cupid intervention: they wanted desperately to find romantic love, but had shown no success at obtaining it on their own. No doubt Bucky had shown up on many lists of potentials in the past, and the people on this list would eventually be assigned cupids of their own if they continued to fail in their quest for romance. For now, though, they were Steve's to work with. He couldn't imagine needing a list of thirty-three people to find a husband or wife for one guy, not when all the hard work had already been done by the dominion angels in just creating the list. He figured it shouldn't take him more than two or three tries, tops, to set Bucky up with a match.
Since anyone on the list would do, Steve had just started at the top. Wandering through the darkened apartment, he reviewed what he knew of the woman who lived there. She was an up-and-coming executive for a respected security tech firm in Manhattan, loved jogging, and volunteered frequently at a shelter for the homeless. A sharp yowl alerted him to the fact that she had a cat, one of those weird hairless things that people sometimes got when they were allergic. Or maybe she just liked animals that looked like small, angry, aliens? Either way, it was a complication, because animals were much more capable of perceiving his presence than people and this cat seemed determined to alert its owner to the invisible intruder. Sure enough, a pretty brunette wandered out of the bedroom wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, but after a brief and one-sided discussion "Dobby" followed her to bed. (If the cat was named after the house-elf in Harry Potter, Steve liked this woman already.)
He couldn't see anything in her apartment that would indicate the match might go poorly. A brief review of her photos, calendar, and computer turned up nothing that would set off alarm bells - she showed no deep, hidden, hatred of interior designers or Alice in Wonderland, and didn't seem to have any romantic prospects already on the horizon. Her weekly firing range visits meant she'd be well-prepared if the oft-discussed zombie apocalypse ever did come to pass, although he had it on good authority that wasn't going to happen this millennium. All in all, he couldn't see why she and Bucky wouldn't hit it off immediately, both of them being smart, single, attractive and, apparently, in need of love. He poured through the data from her Metro card, and found she took the A train into Manhattan every morning. Bucky had mentioned a meeting in Chelsea the next day; Steve could definitely make that work for him.
Satisfied that he'd be finished with this mission within a few days, Steve drifted back to Bucky's apartment with a smile. As soon as Bucky and his match realized that they were in love with each other, Steve would have completed his full rotation of assignments and he'd be eligible for promotion. He made a few quick adjustments to be sure Bucky would end up on the same train as his future love, then decided to resume his physical form. He wanted to actually sleep in that comfy bed while he had a body to appreciate it with, and he didn't expect to stick around long enough to have many more chances.
*****
The morning played out exactly as Steve had hoped. He sat quietly in his room, listening as Bucky got ready for his early appointment. The guy got points for being a very considerate roommate; if Steve hadn't already been awake and listening, he would never have realized that Bucky was moving around out there. Even once Bucky was ready to walk out the door and discovered his keys were missing, he didn't immediately come to Steve's room to wake him up and ask his new roommate to lock up behind him. Instead, Steve listened to a few minutes of frantic searching and increasingly agitated curses. When he judged it had been long enough that Bucky would miss his intended train - and get on the one Steve needed him on instead - he took pity on the guy and wandered out of his bedroom with a yawn.
"Steve!" Alright, maybe he felt a little bad for hiding Bucky's keys when he heard the relief in that voice. But it was all for a good cause, right? "Man, I'm glad you're awake. Can you lock up after me? I can't find my keys and if I don't get out of here right now, I'm never gonna make my meeting on time." Steve nodded, pretending to be bleary with sleep, and Bucky threw a messenger bag over his shoulder before tearing out the door. Steve took a moment to retrieve the stolen keys from his own room - why did a grown man have a superhero keychain, anyway? - before locking the front door and shifting into ethereal form.
After that, it took some doing to be sure Bucky would get on the exact right train. Steve jumped ahead to be sure his candidate had made it onto her usual train and to figure out which car she was riding in. Returning to where Bucky was jogging down the street, he cleared a path to allow him to get to the platform on time, creating a cold zone that people instinctively moved away from. Bucky made it to the subway station unobstructed, just as the A train was pulling in, and Steve again used temperature to guide Bucky to the car he needed to be on. He also took the opportunity to drop Bucky's keys in his messenger bag for him to find later.
By the time Steve got his couple where they needed to be, he was drained. It took a lot of energy to change the temperature, and he'd had to resort to actually sitting in one man to get him out of the way. Once he'd finally cleared a spot next to the elegant brunette, he'd had to suffer through Bucky waiting to see if anyone else in the vicinity wanted the seat before taking it himself. Move faster, Bucko, you've only got a few stops to pull this off. Finally, though, his assignment and his potential match were seated next to each other. Steve gave her bag a little jolt, just enough to have it spilling into Bucky's lap, and...perfect. A book slid out, and Bucky handed it back with a casual, "That book is amazing - I couldn't put it down. Read the entire thing in one night." His case file had mentioned that he was a skilled and prolific flirt, and he didn't let Steve down. It was subtle, though - lots of eye contact, some naughty smiles, a lot of licking and biting his lips. Steve found his gaze drawn to Bucky's mouth over and over again, and was pleased to see that the potential match was having the same problem as she tried to articulate some point about potatoes and dust storms.
It continued to puzzle him that someone who could go from friendly to enticing in the blink of an eye would somehow need an angel's help to find love, but it looked as though Steve had gotten the job done. They were both laughing, talking animatedly, and seemed to have an instant rapport. Their body language was promising - as they shifted slightly to face each other more and continue the conversation, their knees pressed together, and neither pulled away.
She was blushing now, just a bit, and Steve didn't think this was a woman who blushed often. What had he missed? Didn't matter; he figured this was practically a done-deal when she asked, "So what are you heading into the city for?" It was an invitation to take their conversation beyond the book she'd now tucked back into her bag, and an opening for Bucky to suggest that they meet for lunch or coffee once he'd finished with his appointment. Steve frowned as Bucky instead launched into a detailed description of the penthouse redesign he was working on. Steve's confidence began to fade when the woman stood to exit and Bucky hadn't yet made plans to meet her again, or even asked for her number.
As Steve watched in shock, the potential match exited the train and the doors slid shut behind her. Everything had been perfect. She'd been on the list, and Bucky had clearly been attracted to her - he'd flirted so blatantly that even Steve had found it sexy! She'd been receptive and friendly, but Bucky hadn't even tried to take it further. Steve glared at his assignment, which might have had more effect if he hadn't been invisible. Bucky pulled out his phone and began reading e-mails, oblivious to the fact that he'd not only wasted a perfectly acceptable shot at finding love for himself, he'd ruined Steve's chance at finishing this stupid mission with the first candidate. He couldn't arrange a second "accidental" meeting; one or both of them would probably find it suspicious and assume the other person was stalking them. Match-ups with a stranger were a one-shot deal, and now Steve would have to choose another candidate from the list.
Frustrated, Steve blinked back to Bucky's - their - apartment. There was no logical excuse for Bucky's behavior, and he'd have to figure out why the idiot hadn't followed through on his obvious attraction. Tonight, he'd offer to cook dinner for his new landlord and get to know what was going on in his head. In the meantime, he'd begin researching the next candidate on the list and figuring out how to arrange a meeting. Which Bucky had better not mess up. Stealing a butterbeer from the fridge - not great roommate behavior, but he'd replace it later, figured he deserved it, and they were delicious - Steve settled in with his list. It was time to research and, okay, pout.