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Like every single one of the bad ideas Bucky ended up roped into, it started with a dare.
The firehouse was one of the smaller, old fashioned types, but that didn’t mean they didn’t answer more than their share of calls, not in that part of New York. The two trucks though, were sitting ready to go in their bays, and Barton was obviously bored.
“I’m just saying, man, the only reason you aint doing it is cause you know I’ll go for more than you, and your ego couldn’t take the strain.” He flexed as he spoke, the white tee tightening around his (pretty well defined) biceps. Someone wolf-whistled (probably Thor) and the next thing Bucky knows, Barton is on the coffee table flexing and posing like he’s in the line-up for Mr Universe. “Aw yeah, baby!” He called out. “Soak it in!”
“Barton!” Fury called from his office, and the chorus of ‘Oooooh’ that spread around the room was eerily reminiscent of high school. At least Clint hopped down from the table, calling out: “I was just betting Barnes that I’d wipe the floor with him at the Charity Auction.”
Another round of catcalls. “You gonna take that, man?” Sam said, shaking his head from where he was lounging on the other faded couch.
“I’ll take that bet, birdbrain,” Tony called over from where he was typing on his laptop. “Bring it on.”
“I’m not doing it.” Bucky said, but he might as well have been talking to air. Natasha already had the marker out, and it was going on the board. No one messed with the board – else they’d have to deal with the tiny red-headed powerhouse.
Barton = Charity Auction bids.
Players: Barton, Barnes & Stark.
There were others, some long standing, some brand new. The board was Romanovs idea, and it worked out for them. She kept tabs on all the bets going on in the firehouse and was completely neutral. And lest anyone should ever forget, the oldest bet on the board:
Barton = Tap that
Players: Barton & Romanov
Was 6 years old – and despite how many times Barton wiped it off the board – citing he was just kidding, he didn’t know Natasha was their new ‘guy’, that he wasn’t normally a sexist asshole and could she please just forget it, please? – it stayed on the board. Weirdly, Bucky was actually aware that the only thing stopping Natasha from actually sleeping with Barton was the bet. She didn’t like to lose, as much as she did like Barton. For some weird fucking reason.
So, because of a bet, Bucky found himself as ‘Bachelor Number 7’ in the FDNY charity auction.
Natasha was introducing them, one by one, to the crowd. She was wearing a little black dress and heels so high Bucky was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to walk (she disproved that by actually salsa-ing across the floor with Sam later in the evening) and a bright red lipstick that reminded him of blood.
“Bachelor number 1 is Sam Wilson. A 20 year vet of the FDNY, he sure knows his way around a hose.” The crowd was bigger than Bucky had wanted. Mostly women, although a few tight shirts and tighter jeans could be seen peppered through the place. Catcalls of ‘Yeah Baby!’ rippled through the audience.
“Bachelor number 2 is Rhodey Rhodes, don’t be fooled by his cool looks, ladies, this man is a machine!” another howl. Jesus, was this a charity auction or a fucking meat market?
Bachelor number 3 is Clint Barton.” She paused. “The less said the better,” She smirked, and Barton waggled his eyebrows at the women in the front row. They cheered, and Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Bachelor number 4 is Tony Stark, isn’t it nice to see him with his clothes on for a change?” The laughter was real, and Tony hammed up the obvious mention of his sex tape. The guy had no shame, even though he’d given up all of his fame to become a fire-fighter.
“Bachelor number 5 is Bruce Banner – in his spare time he teaches yoga, so we all know how flexible the man can be!” Another round of catcalls that had Bruce turning a funny shade of green. He wanted to be there less than Bucky, but had been talked into it by Natasha and Stark.
“Uh, huh.” Natasha grinned. “Bachelor number 6 is Thor Odinson. Yes, ladies, that’s 100% pure Scandinavian beefcake, right there.” Thor’s booming laugh almost drowned out the wolf whistles. Bucky didn’t quite get him – he was huge and enthusiastic and earnest in a way that Bucky was sure half the time he was taking the piss.
“And a late entry, we’ve saved the best for last – Bachelor number 7 is James Barnes. A decorated war hero, returning back home after 4 full tours. I hear he salutes the flag,” She winked at the crowd, “Every day. Let’s hear it for ‘Bucky’ – don’t ask me how he got that name – and the rest of our Bachelor’s!”
After some thunderous applause and a bow from the guys on stage, Natasha cleared her throat. “You’re bidding tonight on a meal for two with one of our lucky bachelors, at the world renowned ‘Quantum’ where you can expect three time Michelin Gold Star food and a bottle of wine on the house. This was donated by owner Jane Foster for the auction, so if we can all just give her a round of applause, that’s her by the bar, thank you, Jane – and her excellent staff.”
It started off quite… well, Bucky wouldn’t call it sedate, not with the yelling and the catcalling – but wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. Most of the guys, like Bucky, had come wearing their gear – cleaned up for the occasion. The only people who hadn’t were Tony and Clint.
Tony’s suit probably cost more than their combined salaries, cause the guy was Tony Stark no matter where he worked, and Clint’s was two sizes too big and made a funny ripping sound when he walked. This – of course – was all explained when he got up on stage and ripped it off – the whole thing was held together with Velcro.
“Oh, good god.” Natasha sighed, as the crowd went insane. The only thing Clint was wearing was his boots, his hat, and a pair of bright red, glittery booty shorts. Up on the small stage he looked like he was auditioning for Magic Mike, and the bidding was getting higher and higher.
“Oh, screw this!” Tony snapped, obviously aware that Clint was going to beat them all. “I’m calling Pepper.”
“Cheat!” Three of them yelled, because getting your girlfriend to win a bet was exactly that. However, Barton must have thought they were yelling at him – he turned around, ass swaying almost directly in front of the grabby hands of the ladies in the first row, and winked. Bidding went over $600.
“Call Pepper.” Bucky groaned. “He’ll be fucking impossible if he wins this.”
By the time Bucky got to the stage, both Clint and Stark were neck and neck. Pepper, who was chatting away at the bar with Jane Foster, had refused to bid even one dollar over the $950 that Clint had raised, and so the two of them were neck and neck. Bucky knew he had no chance of getting that kind of cash, and when the bidding stalled at $400, he was ready to call it a night.
“Telephone bid!” Kate Bishop called out from the side, and Natasha nodded.
“Okay, gotta be over $400 or the lady in the green dress has it.”
Kate nodded, and then paused. “Uh, how much?” She asked, looking like someone had just slapped her with a fish. “Uh, sure, yeah, that’s… yeah, that’s okay.” She looked up at the stage, and nodded at Natasha. “Uh, five grand.”
“Who’d you bribe?” Tony was asking. The party had been moved up to the Tower, a massive sky scraper in the middle of New York with Starks name in giant letters on the side. Although he’d given up most of his company to Pepper Potts after his very public meltdown, Tony was still rich as hell.
“No one.” Bucky said, shrugging. He had been pretty impressed that he’d not only beaten, but wiped the floor, with Tony and Clint, but now he was starting to worry. Five grand was a fuckton of money to drop on a meal with a fire-fighter. What if this gal wanted more than just food and a chat?
“Bullshit.” Clint said. He was still wearing his booty shorts, and the crowd of private school buddies of Tony’s were throwing distasteful glances over at them. Well, when their friends backs were turned, a few of those glances got a little hungrier. “You paid someone.”
“Yeah, cause I’ve got five grand just… hanging out.” Bucky snorted, taking a swig of his beer. “Did you remove your brain along with your fucking clothes?”
Clint laughed. More heads turned. The party was hosted by Tony, although the man in question hadn’t been doing much in the way of keeping his other guests occupied – that job fell to Pepper, who was walking between the larger groups of people was a smile and an easy grace that Bucky found attractive as hell. “How’d you manage to get a girl like that?” He asked, watching as she easily worked her way through the room.
“Hell if I know,” Tony shrugged. “Luck on my part, stupidity on hers?” Tony glanced over. “I see you changing the subject though.”
“Yeah, cause hearing you two whine about how I had to cheat in order to beat both your asses is getting dull.” Bucky grinned. “Face it, guys, I won the stupid bet, and I didn’t need to have my ass out, or get my butt saved by my girl.”
The party went on into the wee small hours, but Bucky left early. He had an appointment with Kate, the station physio first thing, and getting poked and prodded while hungover wasn’t something he’d like to repeat. His mind though, kept rolling over the fact that someone, someone he didn’t know, just laid down a serious wad of cash to have dinner with him. Him.
Bucky sure as hell didn’t know anyone who wasn’t Stark with that kind of cash, and all he could think about was what if they were a serial killer, or a stalker, or… shit, someone from back when he was in spec-ops, with a grudge? He made a mental note to spend a little longer in the gym. At least he could make sure he was in good shape when…. Whoever… tried to kill him.
He woke up to the sound of his phone ringing.
“Buck.” He managed, kicking off his blankets and wincing at the stab of pain in his arm. If it was Fury calling to bust his nuts for being late, he could live with that.
“Oh, uh, hello.” A deep, masculine voice, said, after a few seconds. “Is this James Barnes?”
It obviously wasn’t Fury. “Uh, yeah.” He managed, grabbing a pair of jeans off the floor. They weren’t too badly stained.
“Oh, I’m Steve Rogers, I was calling about the Charity Auction?”
Shit, it was the serial killer who spent five fucking grand to get Bucky alone. He was pretty sure that he could feel sweat start to form under his arms.
“Ah, yeah, okay.” He tried, hoping he sounded more relaxed than he felt.
“The restaurant called and advised they’ve got a slot on Thursday or Tuesday. Both are fine by me.”
Bucky managed to stop the ‘yeah I bet’ that threatened to burst past his lips with a gulp of air. “I’m working Tuesday.” He said after a pause that went on too long.
“Right, so, Thursday. It’s at 8, I hope that’s okay.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“See you there.”
The line went dead before Bucky had a chance to say anything else. Shit. He was gonna end up dead in an alley.
Smoke was rising from their suits as they sat on the sidewalk. Tony taking deep, laboured breaths and trying not to let other people see just how bad his hands were shaking. Bucky didn’t even have to look over to know that, because he was doing the same thing. “Jesus.” Tony breathed, and then again, just for good measure. “Jesus.”
It shouldn’t have been a difficult callout, just a small domestic fire in a mid-floor apartment.
“Fucking meth.” Bucky groans. The fire had spread to the next apartment when their truck had arrived, and Bucky and Tony had hauled ass up three flights of stairs with the hose on their backs, only to be knocked through a wall with the explosion. Some genius had a meth lab in the next apartment, and chemicals like that don’t enjoy fire. Disorientated and not quite sure what had happened, for a moment Bucky was sure that he was back in time, back in the war – the landmine that took out his truck and almost took his arm.
“Buckster?” Tony was groaning, trying to roll off his back, the weight of his gear making it hard to move. “Shit. Barnes?”
Bucky managed a groan. “Yeah, what the fuck was that?” Tony carried on, he was on his side now, and for a moment Bucky wondered why he’d managed to move so quickly, and then remembered.
“You landed on me.” He wheezed.
“Yeah, and let me tell you, you aint as soft as you look. Jesus.”
Bucky could see the flames on the roof, they looked like water, almost calm, patches burning clear, no colour at all. “Chemical fire.” He managed, and Tony was on his feet.
“Not getting paid enough to die here.” Tony said, took a step forward, and the groan of wood under far too much pressure hit Buckys ears over the familiar sound of fire.
Bucky was on his knees before his brain registered what happened, grabbing at Stark just as the floor gave out. His arms were screaming at him in protest as he managed to haul Tony out of the hole that had opened up, and the fire that was waiting below.
“Okay,” Bucky had managed. “This party’s getting dull, doll.”
“Got somewhere better to be, darlin’?” Tony coughed. His suit was starting to smoke as Bucky snorted a laugh.
“Let’s blow this joint.”
Tony was gonna need new boots, but at least he still had feet to put in them, and as they sat on the sidewalk Bucky felt his hands shake with tremors he was having a hard time stopping. It never got easier. Sure, they told the rookies and the kids that it was just a job, that it got easier every day, soon they won’t think twice about hauling ass out of a burning building when the soles of your boots are sticking to the floor and you can’t see past the soot on your mask. But that was a lie. It never got easier, and the fear never left.
“I gotta,” Tony was saying, trying to say, at least. “I gotta call Pepper.”
Bucky nods, watched as Tony shed his gear and grabbed his phone – the one he should have on him, not on the job, but fuck, no one was going to say anything when he dialled and half sobbed, “Pep?” down the line.
Bucky didn’t have anyone to call, his whole team were there, his family. Phoning Becca would result in another round of tears and yelling and ‘move back to Iowa’ that he was not in the mood for. So he sat on the sidewalk and waited for the tremors to stop.
Pepper Potts wasn’t the type of woman who spent a lot of time with guys like Tony’s new firehouse buddies. Bucky had a weird feeling that she would much rather Tony was getting fat and bored behind some desk somewhere, rather than running around putting out fires and thinking he’s invincible. But when they show up at the tower, exhausted but clean, she was waiting for them.
Bucky is expecting her to drag Tony off, yell at him, maybe slap him, then cling. That’s what Jane Foster did when Thor called her. Apparently they’d been dating since meeting at the auction and from the stupid look on Thors face, was probably pretty serious. Even after the slap, which looked like it might have hurt.
But Pepper, classy, elegant Pepper, throws herself at Bucky of all people.
“Thank you.” She sobs, into his shoulder. He can feel the tears on his skin and is pretty sure the shell-shocked, one arm hug he gives her doesn’t quite cut it, but… fuck it, he wasn’t expecting this. “Thank you.”
“Uh, yeah.” He managed, “Okay.”
There’s beer and pizza and Bucky falls asleep on the oversized couch while Tony and Bruce bicker about Robocop. Pepper keeps throwing him grateful looks and he’s not really sure how to tell her that it’s okay, and that Tony’s too fucking stubborn to die.
It’s not until he’s standing in the shower, back at home, he remembers he’s got a… date… with Steve ‘serial killer’ Rogers in just under an hour. He wondered if ‘I nearly died today’ would get him out of going, and realised Fury wouldn’t give a shit.
Clint had already been on his, and reported back that it ‘wasn’t that bad’, his date was a divorced mother of two college kids who mostly just apologised for her behaviour at the auction and talked about her online craft store.
As Bucky pulled on the only ‘smart’ clothing he had (a pair of black dress pants he might have bought for a funeral and a moss green shirt that had been a gift, maybe?) he ran through a list of his many, many skills. He was in spec ops, he was fit, hard to kill, could go hand-to-hand with just about anyone, knew a few dozen ways to kill a person with regular household appliances and he probably wasn’t about to get fucking murdered.
He hoped.
Quantum was one of those places where they already knew who you were when you arrived.
“Good evening, Mr Barnes.” The curvy (like damn, the girl was a pin-up if Bucky ever saw one) brunette said, when he walked in. “Your table is just this way.”
Bucky was still running through the ways he could defend himself when Darcy (her name was Darcy, he could remember that from the auction. She bid on Barton and waved a £50 bill in the air) stopped at his table. His litany literally screeched to a halt. Defend himself? Shit, he could probably kill this guy by breathing too hard in his general direction.
He was tiny, pale and frail and a little sallow – with blond hair swept to one side in a fairly old fashioned way. His suit was nice, tailored to fit, obviously, because Bucky was pretty sure that clothes off the rack wouldn’t take those skinny shoulders into account. Fuck, he hardly looked old enough to be out of high school. He had looked up when the concierge caught his eye, big eyes, Bucky noted, blue – long lashes, and blinked a few times when he saw Bucky.
“James.” He said, getting to his feet. His voice was way too deep for his body, rich and warm and steady despite his tiny size. He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
He had big hands, Bucky noted. And his handshake was firmer than he’d expected, the kind of handshake Bucky’s grandfather thought showed character.
“Call me Bucky.” Bucky said, finding his voice after a few seconds. “Everyone else does.”
“Well, most people call me Steve, so…” The smaller man said, and smiled.
Dude had a smile that lit up his whole fucking face.
To cover the fact that he felt pretty fucking off balance, Bucky took a few seconds longer to settle himself into his seat. “Can I get you something to drink while you order?”
“Sparkling water with lime.” Steve said, eyes leaving Bucky to talk to the server. “Thank you.”
Bucky was pretty sure that it wasn’t a beer kind of place. “I’ll take the same.” He said.
Once the server had nodded, and politely left them, Bucky looked over to see Steve looking at him a little nervously. “You can have a drink if you like,” He said, in that deep – too deep – voice. “I just, um, can’t really hold my liquor. At all.”
Bucky found himself grinning. He certainly didn’t doubt that a guy the size of Steve could hold more than a beer without falling over. “Nah, I’m good. Working right through till Monday.”
“You work weekends?” Steve asked, folding his hands neatly in his lap.
“Uh, yeah.” Bucky said. He wasn’t sure if he had to talk about how great it was to work at the firehouse. Probably. “Three outta four.” He said. “It’s on a rota. Keeps it fair.” He paused. “I normally stay at the firehouse when I’m on weekends, but obviously… not this time.”
“I normally just donate at the Gala.” Steve said, sounding a little conflicted – like if he didn’t get it out in one breath he wasn’t gonna get it out at all. “But I was overseas, so…” He looked at the menu open in front of him.
“That’s cool.” Bucky said, trying to look like he normally sat in nice restaurants with guys in suits that cost more than his yearly salary. “Do you know Pepper?” Bucky hedged. Lots of Peppers friends and associates took part in the gala. The auction was for the lower end of the cash pot.
Steve’s face lit up. “I do!” He seemed genuinely happy that Bucky had asked. “Do you?”
“Her fella Tony, he’s on my truck.” Bucky supplied.
“Stark? Oh, of course.” Steve said, looking like he wanted to face palm. “I never actually met him, but I’ve been friends with Pepper for years.” He smiled. “She told me when he decided on a career change.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Bucky said, and received another bright smile in return.
“I’d love to do something like that. I tried, when I was younger, but I didn’t pass the physical.” He looked embarrassed to admit it, like it was some big secret. “I had wanted to join the army, when I was a kid, but, uh… that didn’t work out either.”
Bucky didn’t want to say what he was thinking (which went along the lines of “No fucking shit, look at you.”) and instead said, “I did both, and trust me, you’re better off doing whatever it is your doing.”
“Ah, the exciting world of accountancy.” Steve said, mockingly. “Where heroes are made.”
“Where money is made.” Bucky corrected. “Folks gotta eat.” At the mention of money, though, Steve’s face changed. A little less open. A little less warm.
Steve smiled, but it was a bland smile, not the earlier bright thing that had lit up his face and left Bucky feeling a little punch drunk. “Very true.” He demurred, before looking at the menu. “Speaking of…”
The food was good, and although they’d gotten off to a rocky start, Bucky had managed to get Steve to really smile a few times, which was worth it.
“So I’m standing there, one foot stuck in this hole, dog humping my other leg – screaming 90 year old woman smacking me with her bag and my CO on the ground crying with laughter.”
Steve was laughing too, eyelashes wet, trying to stop himself from making too much noise. Bucky got the suspicion that when he really let himself go he’d have one of those laughs that filled up the room. He wanted to hear it. Fuck, he wanted to be the one who caused it.
“Oh god,” Steve wheezed, eyes watering – they crinkled around the edges when he smiled and wasn’t that fucking adorable? After a few second, he fished an inhaler out of his pocket and blushed once he’d taken two big puffs. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Bucky demurred, polite as he could manage. “I’m well aware I’m hilarious.”
Steve laughed again, and needed another puff of his medication, and a glare that would have been enough to stop Bucky in his tracks if he couldn’t see the way Steve’s eyes were dancing.
It was the single best date Bucky had ever been on in his life.
And it wasn’t even a date.
They parted ways after lingering over desert and Bucky felt really fucking stupid about wanting to give Steve his number. Guys like Steve, little, delicate guys who understand what items on the menu mean and know what forks to use, don’t date guys like Bucky. They certainly don’t offer their numbers. Guys like Steve know people who know people and probably just expect to bump into potential… something… at the ‘club’. And not the kind of club Bucky sometimes found himself in, with hot bodies pressed everywhere and sex hanging in the air.
Still though, when it got to saying goodbye, he lingered.
It was his turn to pick up the coffee and milk, so when he arrived at the station the next morning he was greeted warmly by everyone, at least until they hauled the coffee from him and scattered towards the machine to fill it.
“How was the auction thing?” Clint asked. The only reason he wasn’t in a rush for the first pot of coffee cause he’d brought his own from home, and was using it as a giant mug. “I’m gonna assume that she wasn’t a serial killer, unless you’re actually a ghost.” He paused. “This is my fourth mug, I could be seeing shit.”
“He wasn’t.” Bucky shrugged. “I dunno, was okay?” He paused. “You’re on your own next time though. I’m not going through that again.”
“Sure.” Barton laughed, making his way over to the coffee pot where Tony was arguing with Bruce about the best way to get a stronger brew. “You’re gonna make breakfast though, right?” He called over his shoulder. “You’re the only one that can cook in this place.”
Like most weeks, when they all had a night off at the same time, they ended up at the Tower. Although they technically could have gone out to a bar, Stark’s was cheaper – and he had more booze. Not only that, but he had pretty much every gaming console known to man, and Natasha was kicking serious ass on the rainbow road when Pepper stepped out into the lounge.
She’d been in a meeting when they arrived, and Tony had ordered enough pizza to sink a ship in her absence of sense.
Luckily, Natasha and Bucky could eat more than their own weight in pizza, Rhodey and Sam were the only ones who would eat the pineapple and Bruce, Thor and Clint would just work through whatever was put in front of them.
Despite the late hour though, she’d obviously been working – a trail of tired looking men in suits filtered out towards the elevator. They all had the same look, nice suits with pot bellies and weak jaw lines, paying no attention to the rabble on the couches. However, the last out the door did look over, and smiled. He found himself grinning back.
“Hey Steve.” Bucky called, and then felt like a fucking idiot for doing so when all the men in suits stopped to stare.
“Bucky.” Steve nodded with a smile that did light up his whole face before turning to Pepper and shaking her hand warmly, as they all headed towards the elevators, like little sad minions.
Tony, knocked off the road more times than anyone else, because it was his house and they had a duty to blue shell the crap outta him, looked at Bucky accusingly.
“How do you know Peppers people?” He asked, “They’re Peppers. You don’t know them.”
“I know Steve.” Bucky shrugged, hoping he looked casual and not like he was starting to sweat a little. “He was the charity auction thing.” He paused. “He normally donates at the gala, but he missed it this year, or something, so…” He waved a hand over himself. “Auction.”
“That’s the guy you thought was a serial killer?” Barton laughed. “Holy crap, man, he could hardly lift his own legs to walk.”
“I didn’t know that before I met him, did I?” Bucky shrugged. “Best outta 5?”
They were still arguing when Pepper came back, and it was Thor who realised that she wasn’t alone.
“Ah, you must be Steven!” He called out, loud enough that Bucky jerked, his little car almost falling off the track. “Barnes was telling us you were his mystery phone bidder.”
“Ah, yeah.” Steve said, and his deep voice caused a few heads to turn. Even Natasha, who still managed to dodge and weave on the screen when she wasn’t looking.
“Did you like Quantum?” Thor asked, “My Jane owns it.” He grinned, wide and pleased. He was very fond of talking about Jane.
“Uh, yeah.” Steve nodded. “I’ve been before. Very nice.”
“Steve’s car’s been held up.” Pepper explained. “I told him it would be pointless for him to wait downstairs, if we’re all up here.” She looked at the piles of pizza boxes and rolled her eyes. “And there is obviously enough pizza for everyone. Help yourself.” She kicked off her heels, grey, like her dress, and sat on the couch beside Bucky, playfully kicking him. “You didn’t tell me it was Steve at the auction.” Since he’d saved Tony, Pepper had been a lot less formal with them all, especially Bucky.
“Well, I aint seen you since Thursday,” He pointed out. “And it was Thursday night.”
“You went on a date on Thursday?” Pepper said, looking between Bucky and Steve. “James, I’m sure you could have cancelled. You nearly died!”
“You nearly died?” Steve said, sounding surprised. “You didn’t mention that.” He sat down on the edge of the couch, looking a little worried, and a little impressed as Bucky tried (and failed, going on the knowing look Tony shot him) to play it cool.
“Oh yeah,” Tony grinned. “He pulled me out of the mouth of hell.”
And then Bucky had to listen to a very dramatic retelling of Thursday morning – the only reason Tony kept anywhere near the truth was that Pepper was starting to look a little teary-eyed again, and kept patting Bucky on the shoulder.
“He’s got a Purple Heart too.” Rhodey cut in.
“Oh,” Steve said.
“Met the President.” Natasha supplied.
“Introduced to me to my husband.” Sam added.
“Not on purpose!” Bucky snorted, and if it wasn’t Peppers very expensive, white decor, he would have thrown the slice of pizza he was holding at Sam, “This asshole stole my boyfriend.”
“I married him!” Sam argued, “That’s got to count for something.”
“Yeah, that you’re a lousy friend.” Bucky snorted. It had happened about 6 years ago and he could still see how fucking guilty they both looked, sitting him down and telling him that they were sorry, and how they didn’t mean for it to happen, but... Bucky hadn’t been badly hurt. He knew Riley and him weren’t a forever thing, not like it was with Sam.
“The only reason I forgave you was cause I got to be best man.” Bucky replied. “If he’d have asked anyone else I’d have had to kill you.”
He was dimly aware that they were trying to talk him up. Which was weird, cause it was very obvious that guys like Steve were way out of Bucky’s league. Hell, they probably weren’t playing the same game, never mind the same team.
But Steve was laughing along with everyone else so Bucky was going to chalk that up to a win. Someone, probably Pepper, because she was good like that, had given Steve a beer, and he’d loosened his tie a little. Bucky wondered if he always wore a suit. He wondered what he’d look like in jeans.
“What about you, Steve, what do you do?”
“Accounting.” Steve said, looking like he’d much rather have swallowed a fly rather than answer.
“Oh, don’t do that!” Pepper said, shaking her head. “Steve’s an absolute miracle with numbers. He used to be a forensic accountant for Shield, before he started his own company. We use him for everything.” She beamed, “We’ve been using Americap for about... what, 4 years now?”
“Something like that.” He said. “It’s... well it’s not a Purple Heart.”
Pepper looked conflicted, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. In the end, she smiled and shook her head. “Steve, one of these days you’re going to stop putting yourself down so much.” She said, “He’s very successful.”
“He’d have to be.” Bucky said, “Working with you.”
“Stop flirting with Pepper.” Tony said, mouth full of pizza. “I knew this would happen. The hugging, and the knowing her people – now the flirting. Stop it. Pepper, stop being irresistible.”
Everyone laughed, even Steve, who was looking pained, and the tension was gone.
“Pick up a controller, Steve.” Natasha said. “I need some new blood, these losers are terrible.”
It turned out that Steve was actually very, very good at Mario Cart. He blue shelled everyone, including Bucky, who had kind of expected Steve to go easy on him, although he wasn’t quite sure why. Even Pepper, who Bucky had never known to join in, was knocked off the road and ended up throwing her hands in the air in exasperation, handing her controller to Sam and curling up on the couch with her feet tucked under her legs, pouting.
Bucky couldn’t remember having quite as much fun, especially when, three times in a row, Steve beat Natasha. At nine, after never managing to get his little kart past 5th place, he put down the controller and sighed. “Right. Heading off.”
The groan was comical and pathetic. “Man, it’s only 9, I know you aint working tomorrow.” Sam said.
“I’ve got physio.” Bucky shrugged, picking his way over the mass of people who’d slid from the couch to the floor – it didn’t matter really, cause the carpet with thicker than Bucky’s mattress, and probably softer.
Steve got to his feet too. He hadn’t moved much from the corner he’d perched himself on, and looked at Pepper sheepishly.
“I should go too.” He said, and Bucky still couldn’t work out why this tiny little dude had a voice so fucking deep. It hardly made sense. “I’ve kept the car waiting too long.”
“Of course, Steve.” Pepper was saying, as Bucky found his jacket on the pile by the door. “It was lovely to see you in a less formal setting for a change. Call me, we’ll have lunch sometime. Without Mario Kart.”
“It was nice to see you again.” Steve said, as they waited on the elevator coming up from the ground floor. Bucky could still here the good natured yelling of someone being knocked off the road from down the long hallway, and nodded.
“Uh, yeah, it was cool. Sorry if I shouldn’t have yelled over. With, uh, your colleagues.”
It seemed to take Steve a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then he grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, actually, you might have done me a favour there.” He said, “Uh, I’ve got a reputation for being a bit of a stickler, um, socially. It’s something of a joke that the only people I know are through work. Good looking firemen knowing who I am might… uh,” He paused. “Prove I’m not hopeless?”
Bucky found himself grinning. “So I take it they don’t know about the auction?”
“The idea that I had to buy a date probably wouldn’t help my cause.” Steve shrugged, flatly, before his breath hitched and he started turning pink at the tips of his ears. “Not that, um, not that it was a date, just…”He paused. “Uh, you know what people are like.”
“Yeah.” Bucky found himself agreeing. He was saved from saying something stupid like ‘I thought it was a date’ by the elevator doors opening up.
The trip down was mostly in silence, with Bucky trying to think of ways to start a conversation and stalling, and the longer the silence went on, the harder it was to break. It seemed though, that Steve was doing the same thing, when he asked:
“Are you hurt?” Then looked like he’d quite like the elevator to freefall 80 floors to his death. “I mean, you said you had physio. Were you hurt on Thursday? You could have cancelled.”
Bucky grinned. “Aw, no, I was fine on Thursday. It’s just my shoulder. I sound like a total asshole, but it’s an old war wound that plays up if I don’t keep my appointments.”
“Oh.” Steve said, looking at Bucky’s shoulders quickly, as though he might be able to see some kind of injury through his clothes, and then looked dead ahead. “Sorry. I mean… I don’t mean to… uh…” He swallowed, took a breath. “Stare.”
Bucky found himself grinning. “It’s fine. Some scarring and a little localised numbness – could have been worse.” He leaned against the wall of the elevator and grinned. “So, you may have missed out a few things about yourself on Thursday, Mr I-own-my-own-business.”
“Ah, very sorry, Mr Purple-Heart-and-met-the-president.” Steve shot back. “It must have slipped my mind.”
“Well, I have been told that sitting across from good-looking firemen,” He parroted Steve’s earlier words back at him. “Has that effect.”
Steve laughed, although obviously still not a real honest-to-god belly laugh that Bucky was pretty sure he had in his tiny body. “Did you hear that, huh?” Steve said, rolling his eyes.
“Can’t remember where.” Bucky shrugged. “Completely slipped my mind.”
“Obviously older than you look.” Steve said, nodding. “I hear that’s a side effect.”
“Screw you, Punk.” Bucky found himself laughing. “I’m in my prime.”
They were still grinning when the doors of the elevator opened, and (with an overdone flourish) Bucky let Steve out first. “Do you need a ride home?” Steve asked, nodding at the sleek black town car that was sitting outside the glass and chrome building.
“I’m out in Brooklyn.” Bucky explained. “It’s too far out of your way.”
“Not at all.” Steve shrugged, easy as you like. Bucky did notice, however, that he didn’t say where he lived. Not Bucky’s side of Brooklyn, that was for sure. “Let me drop you off.”
The drive to Bucky’s apartment was a smooth ride with a lot of talking and laughing that he later couldn’t really remember what it was about. Only that Steve had been laughing, and when he did, the corners of his eyes would crinkle, showing fine lines. Bucky wasn’t even sure why, but he thought it was sexy as hell.
He was just finished showering after his appointment – it always left him sweating and shaking, but damn, it was so worth it – when he checked his phone to find a text message from an unknown number.
(Unknown number): Bucky, it’s Steve Rogers. I had your number from the auction. Hope you don’t mind me texting without permission.
Bucky blinked. Of course Steve had his number – Steve had called him to arrange their date. Thing. Not a date. Auction… meal. He quickly saved the number and text back. Steve had sent the message an hour previously, so Bucky didn’t look too keen.
(Barnes): Not a problem. Just out of my appointment.
(SteveR): Ah, Just been stood up for lunch meeting. Don’t suppose you’re hungry?
Bucky looked at his phone. He was hungry, and he didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day, but he was pretty sure that the kind of place that Steve had lunch wasn’t gonna like Bucky rolling up with damp hair and his workout gear stinking up the joint in his duffle.
(SteveR): I have reservations at Silk for noon. No pressure.
Bucky blinked. It was just after 11. He could get back to his apartment and change in time, but there was no way he’d make it back into the city in time. He text Steve some probably garbled version of that, while walking back to his apartment.
(SteveR): I can send the car?
He was still in jeans, but at least they weren’t ripped or faded, and he’d thrown on his nicest sweater – a navy blue thing that had been in the back of his closet for longer than he’d like to think. He was sure he bought it in a sale, and had never worn it. A little tight on his arms, but he kind of liked the way that it made his biceps look.
Silk was another place far too nice for the likes of Bucky, but when he walked in, the concierge swept him away to where Steve was sitting without rolling his eyes or asking if Bucky was ‘sure’ that he was expected.
Steve was sitting at a table set for four, looking a little bored and a little self-conscious. He was tapping away on his phone and Bucky had a weird insight that he was only doing so to look busy. Holy shit – he was wearing glasses. Bucky was not prepared for Steve to be wearing glasses.
“Hey Steve.” He said, as he was ushered into his seat. “Thanks for the invite.”
Steve looked stupidly, unbelievably attractive. The thick frames looked a little hipsterish, but they made his blue eyes look massive, magnifying his already stupidly long lashes. When he blinked, Bucky was pretty sure that they brushed the glass. Fuck, Bucky was already pretty far gone, and the stupid glasses weren’t helping. He looked thrilled that Bucky had shown, even though he’d sent his car to pick him up.
“Bucky.” He said, and then hastily pulled off his glasses like they were on fire. “Hi.”
“Two sparkling waters with lime.” Bucky said, as the waiter appeared at their table, looking much smarter than Bucky. He hoped he sounded like he knew what he was about.
“You remembered.” Steve said, tucking his glasses into the pocket of his jacket.
“It’s a bit early for booze.” Bucky shrugged. Was he not supposed to remember what Steve drank at their not-date? “So, who stood you up?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Justin Hammer.” He said, looking unimpressed. “It’s not the first time. He thinks it makes him look busy and in demand, and in reality it pisses everyone off.” He paused. “Although you didn’t hear that from me.”
Bucky knew Justin Hammer, mostly cause he was trying to fill the ‘playboy millionaire’ gap that Tony had left when he gave it all up. Mostly his antics were cringe-worthy – Tony gleefully recounted every awkward moment.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that from more than you.” Bucky grinned. “Ah well, his loss.”
The other two places that had been set were quickly removed when their drinks arrived, and the menu made zero sense to Bucky when it was handed to him. It wasn’t until he noticed that Steve was blinking owlishly at the page he realised why Steve wasn’t recommending anything. “Put the glasses back on, Steve.” He said, aware he sounded a little amused, teasing.
“I couldn’t get my contacts in this morning.” Steve said, looking a little mortified, pulling the frames out and unfolding the legs. He still didn’t put them on though. “They make me look like a dork.”
“A cute dork, though.” Bucky shrugged, hoping he sounded cool and calm and not like he was hitting on Steve. Cause he wasn’t. At all. “I kinda need you to tell me what’s going on with the food here.” He added, quickly. “Can’t do that if you can’t read the menu.”
Steve blinked at him a few times, and then slid the glasses on. “Um,” Steve said, scanning quickly. “The terrine is good.”
Bucky noticed that they didn’t have prices on the page, and sent up a silent prayer that he was gonna have enough to pay the rent after this meal. He was pretty sure that truffles were expensive – he had no idea what black winter truffles were. Probably more expensive. “You know I’m putting my culinary tastes in your hands, right?” Bucky told him, when their order was sent away with a waiter who didn’t even write anything down.
Steve grinned. He’d kept his glasses on, and Bucky felt a little out of his depth. Shit, Steve wasn’t even that good looking. He was short and a little sallow, his hair old fashioned and he was way too neat for the likes of Bucky, but fuck him, Bucky liked him a lot.
They talked. Mostly about Steve’s work, because through the conversation he had to keep stopping to answer emails on his phone. “I’m sorry.” He said, looking embarrassed. “With Hammer cancelling, my whole day’s out of order.”
A few people stopped by their tables to say hi to Steve and to subtly check Bucky out from the corner of their eyes. Steve noticed, and each time it happened, he blushed deeper. Especially if the outright asked who Bucky was.
“Uh, this is James.” Steve said, tips of his ears pink. “He’s a fire-fighter.”
“Oh, lovely.” A heavy set man with a smirk that Bucky took immediate dislike to. Bucky might have not been on the same pay grade as this guy, but he wasn’t fucking stupid, and he knew when he was being sneered at.
“Hi.” Bucky said, smiling. He wasn’t going to embarrass Steve by punching someone in a crowded restaurant. No matter how fucking badly he wanted to.
“A fire-fighter?” The man was saying, after completely brushing off Bucky’s greeting. “That’s… novel.”
Steve’s jaw was tight. For a little guy, he certainly had a jaw you could crack rocks off when he jutted his chin forward like that. Bucky was fairly sure he could hear his teeth grinding from over the table.
The man left not long after and Bucky knew that he probably managed to embarrass Steve by obviously not being the type of person who should be having lunch with him in an upmarket restaurant.
“Sorry.” Steve said, smoothing his hair, then his jacket lapels. “Sorry, um.” He blinked. “Peirce can be… well, he’s a total asshole.” He said, coming out in a rush, “I’m sorry if I, um, embarrassed you.”
Bucky shrugged. “I’m a fire-fighter.” He said. “I’m proud of that.”
“So you should be.” Steve said, looking like he wanted to punch something. “It’s a hard job, you save people’s lives.”
Bucky didn’t bother telling Steve that his last shift he spent the whole time cleaning the station house – it was his turn – and wasn’t quite as glamorous as a lot of people thought. “It’s cool, Steve.” Bucky shrugged.
Steve paid, wouldn’t even let Bucky get so far as pulling out his wallet – and looked mortified when Bucky tried to insist. “Oh god, I asked you.” He said, ears burning. “You were doing me a favour, I hate sitting alone in restaurants. I feel like everyone is looking.”
“Well, if you ever need company.” Bucky grinned.
Later, he kicked himself about that. “If you ever need company,” he hissed, taking out his frustration on the bag he’d hung in his spare room. “What a fucking idiot thing to say.” His fist connected solidly. “Fucking stupid.”
“There’s a thing.” Tony was saying, as they cleaned their gear. “A charity thing.” Another pause. “Pepper’s making me go. I don’t wanna. It’s gonna be all suits and money.”
“Tony, that’s exactly your type of thing.” Bucky pointed out, scrubbing at his boots. “Suits and money.”
“Yeah, but this is gonna be so dull.” A pause. “You should come.”
Bucky stopped scrubbing just long enough to level a flat glare at Tony. “You want me to come to your dull suits and money thing? Me?”
“Yeah!” Tony grinned. “It’ll be awesome. You can stop me from doing something stupid.”
“No one can stop you doing something stupid.”
“And Pepper loves you.” Tony carried on like Bucky hadn’t spoken. “Although I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. Don’t steal Pepper okay?” He said, before smirking to something probably hilarious in his head.
“Tony, as much as I think Pepper is fantastically out of your league,” He said, ignoring the indignant ‘Hey!’ Tony let out, “She is in fact, not my type.” He paused. “Because she is a woman, and I am a gay man.”
“Right.” Tony said. “I knew that.”
“Good.”
“So are you planning on stealing me from Pepper?”
Bucky threw his boot at Starks head.
(Barnes): What kind of thing will I be expected to wear if I had been forced to attend the Stark Gala on Friday?
(SteveR): Are you going?
(Barnes): Looks like I’ve got no choice, Pepper sent me an invite. On paper.
(SteveR): I’ll be there
(SteveR): It’s a suit and tie thing. Do you need a tailor?
Bucky didn’t need a tailor. He got a suit from a place Tony suggested, and although it cost more than he would have liked, he also got the feeling that it cost a lot less than it should have. Tony had made the appointment, and Bucky was fairly sure he also put some kind of deposit down. It was plain black, and his shirt was charcoal and Bucky felt weirdly out of place with his too long hair pulled back into a band, but when he arrived at the Gala, with his invite tucked neatly inside his jacket, he didn’t look like he stuck out much. So, there was that.
He saw Steve early, wearing a black suit that was far better tailored than what Bucky was wearing, but the way he kept scanning the crowd said loud and clear that he was expecting someone. Maybe his date. Bucky didn’t approach him. He certainly didn’t want to see the kind of person Steve would date, so he kept a good distance for as long as he could.
Of course, even in a room full of people, when you know Stark, that chance of being able to hide out by the bar was minimal.
“Ah, a man after my own heart.” Tony said, eventually finding him. “Looking good. Hiding from the ladies already?”
Of course, Pepper had a sense about whenever Tony was too near free booze, and within about 30 seconds, she had appeared. “Bucky!” She said, kissing his cheek. It was still weird, how obviously grateful she was for Bucky not letting Stark drop to his death, and he was sure eventually she’d get over it, but while she was, he’d enjoy her smiles and attention. It was nice, and he liked it. “I’m glad you could make it.” She said, pulling both of them away from where they were propping up the bar with a slight touch and the sheer force of her disapproval. “Oh look, there’s Steve.”
The tips of Steve’s ears were red and he was trying (and failing) not to stare at Bucky while Pepper kept up a nice, distracting flow of conversation before not-subtly-at-all found herself (and Tony) being needed elsewhere.
“So, this is what you do when you aren’t dealing with Justin Hammer, huh?” Bucky asked, trying not to tug on his jacket. The cut was good, but not half as good as Steve’s, and he was managing to feel like a giant, oversized idiot standing beside the smaller man.
Steve though, didn’t seem to mind. “Ah, no. Mostly I watch Netflix.”
“Stark’s ruined me.” Bucky pointed out. “I’m pretty sure all you guys go home and throw mad parties, with strippers and bathtubs full of champagne.” He paused. “Wolf of Wallstreet style.”
Steve’s laugh seemed to dissolve whatever tension was in his shoulders, and he looked at Bucky in the eyes for the first time that evening. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Not even close, buddy.”
They talked for long enough that Bucky started to feel guilty about hogging Steve for so long. “I’m not keeping you from your date, am I?” He asked, only to have Steve laugh at him.
“Wait, are you serious?” Steve asked, when Bucky probably looked confused. At Bucky’s nod, Steve laughed again. “Oh god, no. No date.” He smiled. “Did you think I was kidding when I told you no one would be surprised that I had to resort to buying my dates at Charity auctions?”
“Well, yeah.” Bucky said. “Look at you.”
Steve laughed. “I think that’s the problem.”
“Yeah, but... look at you.” Bucky said, feeling a little lost. “I mean, okay, I’m a little disappointed that the nerdy glasses haven’t made an appearance tonight, but you look good. Better than half the guys here.”
Steve laughed again, and shook his head. Bucky got the feeling he didn’t believe a word of it.
“Thank you.” He said, but the words clashed with the tone and look on his face. “Did you bring someone?”
It was Bucky’s turn to laugh. “Man, I didn’t even want to bring myself. Stark made me – and then Pepper sent me an invite and I just can’t say no to that woman.”
“She does have that effect.” Steve agreed with a nod. “When I started at Shield, she was still Tony’s assistant, and even then it was common knowledge that she was the one running the show. It was a bit of a relief when Tony retired, to be honest.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bucky said. “Now I’ve got to deal with him.”
“From what I hear from Pepper you’re his guardian angel and his knight in shining armour.” Steve said, and Bucky was pretty sure that was a teasing tone. He just couldn’t fucking tell with Steve.
“Yeah, you save a guy’s life once and no one lets you live it down. I should have dropped him.” Buck said, shaking his head. Steve’s snort of laughter made Bucky grin.
Like the restaurant, people wanted to talk to Steve, but unlike the restaurant, people also wanted to talk to him.
“Do you work with Steve?”
“Ah, no,” Bucky said, a little taken aback by being asked. “I work with Tony.” He figured that might embarrass Steve less, and he was right, going on the nodding.
“And what did you do before that?”
“I was a sergeant in the 107th.”
“Bucky’s a Purple Heart recipient.” Steve said, cutting over his own conversation with a stunning, leggy blond. Sharon something. Bucky didn’t like her, or the way she smiled at Steve. She didn’t seem too happy that Steve had just cut over whatever she was saying to jump in on Bucky’s conversation. Suck it, he thought, smugly.
At the mention of the Purple Heart though, the people who’d been half interested in whatever Bucky was saying suddenly perked up, asking him about things he really didn’t know much about – politics and policies. He had a pretty strong opinion about the way ‘Vets were treated, and it seemed that, at least, was something everyone agreed on. Steve seemed more than happy to let Bucky talk, so he figured he wasn’t being too embarrassing.
Eventually though, people started drifting off, shaking Bucky’s hand and saying this like, “Thank you for your service,” which always sounded weird to him. “It’s nice to see Steven with someone.” An old woman said, glancing over at where the leggy blond was still talking to Steve.
“Uh, yeah.” Bucky managed. Because saying something like, ‘no it fucking isn’t’ was rude, he figured.
Sharon Carter, Bucky remembered her name after a little while, was tall and blond and funny as hell. She made Steve laugh and his eyes crinkle and Bucky didn’t like her one bit. He was pretty sure she was up to something, but had no idea what. Steve was oblivious, of course, and just kept laughing and smiling at the blond like his face was gonna crack.
“I’m gonna get a drink.” Bucky said, after standing beside them for a few minutes, feeling completely unnecessary.
He’d just paid a stupid amount for a scotch he probably wasn’t going to appreciate when Steve appeared by his side. He was still smiling, and looked pleased. “You get her number?” Bucky asked, taking a sip and – yup, that tasted like it was probably too good for him, smooth and smoky – nodding in the direction Steve had come from.
“Hmm?” Steve asked, before ordering a glass of the same scotch Bucky was drinking. “Sharon? Oh,” He laughed. “We worked together at Shield. She’s been trying to get me to go back.”
“She thinks you’re cute.” Bucky pointed out. Another sip.
Steve laughed that same, not-quite-a-laugh thing that made it very clear he thought Bucky was lying through his ass. “Of course.”
“You do that a lot.” Bucky pointed out as Steve took a small drink of the scotch. Bucky wondered if he liked it. He wondered if he’d taste warm and smoky if Bucky leaned forward and kissed him.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t believe people when they say nice stuff about you.” Bucky said, shrugging. “You do that laugh, or you roll your eyes.” He paused, took a larger swig of his drink and put the empty glass down on the bar. Almost instantly, it was refilled. “The hot blond thinks you’re cute.”
“No one thinks I’m cute.” Steve said, swallowing his own drink in one fluid motion.
“I think you’re cute.” Bucky pointed out, before he thought better of it.
Steve looked like he was going to argue, then stopped. “Really?”
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
Steve watched him for the rest of the night, although he didn’t say anything about Bucky’s admission. Whenever Bucky caught him looking, he’d look away, the tips of his ears red. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was awkward or adorable, and was pretty sure Steve wasn’t trying to be coy. When Bucky left, Steve was talking to Sharon again, and looked a little more confident. Which was great. Yeah. Great.
“So,” Sam was saying, leaning against the counter top where Bucky was making a batch of chilli. “I hear that you’ve been living it up on the other side of town.” He grinned. “You gonna be too fancy for our BBQ on Saturday now?”
Bucky laughed. “Hell no. I gotta make sure you’re treating my boy right, don’t I?” Bucky shot back. Every year, for Riley’s birthday, Sam held a BBQ on the roof of his building. It was a great day, with beer and good food – better company – and Bucky wouldn’t miss it for the world. “You know I’ll get drunk and handsy.” He winked. “Gonna steal him back.”
Sam laughed. At first, when the whole thing had been new and a little raw, Bucky and Sam had a strained relationship. Bucky hadn’t expected his boyfriend to break up with him, and Sam had been guilty as hell, but it didn’t take long for Bucky to realise that Riley and Sam were perfect or each other in all the ways that mattered. And Bucky only ever wanted the best for them both. Now it was a running joke and Bucky never missed an opportunity to crack a few jokes about it.
“Saturday, man. It’s gonna be off the hook.”
“No one says off the hook anymore, Sam.” Bucky said, smirking. “You aint hip with the kinds no more, old man.”
“Say’s you.” Sam snorted, giving him a playful shove. “Hurry up with that, we’re starving.”
Saturday morning rolled around and Bucky was in the perfect mood for a cold beer and a slightly charred around the edges burger, when his phone started to buzz with a new message.
(SteveR): Are you working today?
(Barnes): Nope. You?
(SteveR): Just till 12.
Bucky waited for more, but it looked like that was all that he was gonna get. Cool, he text back, locking his door and heading towards Sam’s place. It wasn’t too far and the weather was good, and Bucky was feeling distinctly awesome.
He was on his fifth beer and second burger when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Tony was arguing with Bruce about the correct temperature for burgers and Clint was trying not to look like he was about to piss himself with excitement as Natasha stole his beer with a bat of her eyelashes. Bucky was pretty sure that one of those days she was actually gonna admit she was into him – but he didn’t think it was that day.
(SteveR): Are you busy? I might need a favour
(Barnes): Just having a few beers at Sams. BBQ.
(SteveR): Ah, okay.
(Barnes): Why?
(SteveR): It’s nothing
(Barnes): You might as well tell me
(SteveR): I’m at the hospital. It’s nothing serious.
The taxi ride didn’t take long, but Bucky was sure it took longer than normal as he sat in the back and worried. He’d called Steve, but didn’t get an answer, so – making his apologies to Sam and Riley – he’d made the decision to go.
The hospital was packed, and Bucky had to wait a while before he could get to the reception.
“Hi, I’m here to see Steve Rogers?” He said. He couldn’t see Steve sitting around, although his texts seemed to argue that he was just waiting to be picked up.
“Relation?”
“Uh,” Bucky stalled. He was pretty sure only family would be allowed in. “Boyfriend.”
“Steve Rogers, you are a fucking liar.” Bucky snapped, looking at Steve lying on the hospital bed. There was a cute little nurse who was setting up some kind of machine in the corner and she smiled at them both. “What the hell?”
“I had an asthma attack at work.” Steve said, pulling on the cannula in his nose. “I can go home.”
“Only if he has a nebuliser.” The nurse cut in. “And supervision.”
“I have one.” Steve said, “I don’t need supervision. I’m not a child.”
“I’ll be there.” Bucky agreed. “Just tell me what I need to know.”
Steve argued the whole trip to his apartment. His building (nowhere near Bucky’s part of town, he noted) was a modern, sleek looking thing, with a reception desk like it was some kind of hotel.
“Good Afternoon Mr Rogers.” The man at the desk said, “The elevator is on its way.”
Steve did have a nebuliser at home. He also had a lot of other things, like those metal stands for drips, and catheters in sealed bags – a wheelchair and a whole cabinet of pills. They were kept in his walk-in closet.
Because of course, Steve had a walk-in closet.
He had a closet bigger than Bucky’s bedroom.
Bucky was pretty sure his bathroom was bigger than Bucky’s whole apartment – a bathtub that looked like it was auditioning for a role as a pool, and a shower that looked like it could fit a whole crew worth of people, the floor and walls all the same soft cream coloured stone. Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if it was marble.
Bucky was trying not to stare, really, because Steve’s apartment wasn’t what he expected. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t luxury. He had this idea that Steve, who seemed quite shy and hardworking, would have an almost Spartan apartment. But everywhere Bucky looked there was soft throws and large pillows, tastefully mismatched couches and piles of books on almost every surface. A huge TV that looked almost the same as the one Stark had, with (ah, no wonder he was good!) a few gaming consoles tucked under it.
Steve was on the couch, refusing to go to bed, when Bucky pulled the machine he needed through. “I’m really fine.” He kept saying. “Honestly. You can go back.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I will.” He agreed. “But I just got here. You kicking me out already?”
“Of course not.” Steve sighed, as he (expertly, this was a regular thing, Bucky realised) hooked himself up to the machine and turned it on. It made a low, constant drone, but not loud enough to be annoying, and Steve sunk into the cushions with a breath. “I just…” He sighed. “This happens a lot. Normally they just send me home after an hour or so. I wouldn’t have text you if I’d have known you were busy.”
“Wasn’t busy.” Bucky shrugged. “I already told you that. Anyway, man, I don’t mind. What do you normally do?”
“Play games. Watch TV, read.”
“Okay then, best outta 3?”
(TonyS): Where’d you go?
(Barnes): Steve got taken to hospital. He’s fine now, I think, just keeping an eye on him.
(TonyS): K
Steve’s kitchen contained everything an aspiring chief could want. Every gadget, every appliance. Every type of knife, peeler, pot or pan that Bucky could ever think of needing. His stove was massive, with more buttons on it than a space shuttle. A state of the art juicer sat in the corner. Everything gleamed.
Bucky tried not to swoon. He loved cooking. He didn’t get a lot of opportunity, but Steve’s kitchen was the kind of place where you’d have everything set out in little bowls as you talked to a camera about what you were doing. He had a kitchen like a TV chef.
His cupboards were bare. His fridge was empty, save for three bottles of carbonated water and a single lime. His freezer had ice cubes in a tray. It wasn’t the kind of empty that Bucky often had, when he hadn’t the time to go grocery shopping and all that was left was a couple of packs of frozen veg and half used jars of spices. It was empty in a way that spoke very loudly of never being filled.
When Bucky opened the over door, there was still blue plastic on the rack – it hadn’t been peeled off. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He whined, looking around the perfect, pristine space.
“You okay?” Steve called through. The kitchen was separated from the main room by a breakfast bar, so Bucky could see Steve looking over, head twisted to peer over the couch, the tube in his nose tugging as he turned. “The menus are on the fridge.”
“Course they are,” Bucky complained under his breath. “On the perfect, awesome, empty fucking fridge.”
“Sorry?” Steve called.
“Nothing.” Bucky replied, grabbing three well used menus that were held up with little magnets that looked like Legos. For some reason, it made Bucky think that Steve had been the one to pick all the items in the apartment, although obviously someone had picked the appliances for him.
“When you feel better, I’m gonna lecture you on the importance of having actual food in your fridge.” Bucky warned as he walked through. “Can’t even make pancakes. Can’t even make toast.”
Steve shrugged. “I get breakfast at the office.”
“Not an excuse.” Bucky pointed out, sitting on the couch and sinking into the plushness. “Dude, you should always at least have the ingredients for pancakes, or a grilled cheese or something. I’d give both my balls for a kitchen like that.”
“You cook?”
“Yeah. My mom was pretty insistent me and my sister learnt before we moved out. I mean, I don’t do fancy shit, but I can cook a Sunday roast, and my chilli’s pretty awesome.”
Steve looked at the menus. “Uh, I never tried. Mostly ramen in college.”
“Everyone eats ramen at college.” Bucky pointed out. “So they don’t have to eat it every day for the rest of their lives.”
He left around nine, once Steve had promised that he was going to go to bed once Bucky left. Bucky didn’t think he was lying, but… he’d done all he could do without actually carrying the guy through, and although quite a lot of his more recent fantasies involved exactly that, Bucky wasn’t a fucking idiot – and Steve wasn’t a kid.
Bucky woke up to the sound of yelling.
People yelling. Tony. Yelling for Bucky.
He struggled to sit up, his arm was twisted wrong under him, pain shooting through him like electricity, filling his head like it was fourth of July.
They’d been on a call, something had happened, he couldn’t quite remember. He’d fallen, he was sure. That would explain the pain, his arm.
He tried to call out, but all that left him was a groan of air. He hurt. The last time he’d hurt like that, he’d been shipped back to the sates to get a medal pinned to his chest and no idea what it was like to be a civilian.
“I think I can see him!” Someone was yelling, Bruce maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell. Bruce shouldn’t be in the building, he was on the other truck. Had the other truck arrived while Bucky was knocked out?
“Shit,” Someone else was saying, closer. Rhodey? “I see him. Bucky? Bucky, can you move?”
Bucky tried to speak, but his lungs didn’t seem to co-operate. He gingerly tried to move, only to have more pain shoot through his body. Rhodey must have heard the groan that was punched out through his raw throat. “Okay man, don’t move, we’re coming for you, you stay put.”
Bucky blacked out again.
He woke up in the ambulance, panicked and confused, before they gave him something that dulled the pain and knocked him back out.
The first thing he thought when he opened his eyes was that they’d taken his arm. He was numb all the way down one side, but when he looked down, he could see that it was still there, just contained in a cast. That didn’t keep his attention for long, because Steve was sitting in the chair by the bed. He was watching Bucky with those big blue eyes – glasses on, he noted groggily – looking like he hadn’t slept in a month. It had been a week or so when Bucky had last seen Steve, although they had been testing back and forth, mostly Bucky checking up to make sure Steve was sticking with the medication the doctor at the hospital gave him. He didn't look much better.
“Hey.” He managed, his throat felt raw – he wondered if he’d been yelling, or if it was just a side effect from the smoke.
“Hey. You’re okay, in the hospital.” He waited till Bucky nodded before carrying on. “You broke your arm, they’ve given you something to dull the pain.” He smiled. “You’ve been in and out for while. I think Natasha has a video of you hitting on Thor.”
Bucky found himself grinning like an idiot at the expression on Steve’s face. “Jealous?”
“Well, he’s certainly better looking than you.” Steve shrugged, and Bucky discovered that laughing hurt.
He had two options, apparently. He could either stay with Pepper and Tony, or Steve.
“I don’t see why I can’t just go home.” He said, for the fifth time.
“It’s not open for discussion.” Pepper said, standing with her hands on her hips and looking like Bucky was wasting her time with his utter confusion as so why he wasn’t able to just go home.
Steve had that mulish expression on his face that Bucky found cute only when directed at other people. It wasn’t quite so cute when he was aiming at Bucky.
“But-”
“You shouldn’t even be leaving the hospital.” She carried on. “You either pick an option or you’re staying here.”
“Steve, tell her-”
“I don’t think you should be leaving either.” Steve told him. “So don’t look at me.”
Steve had bought food. That was the first thing Bucky noticed when he was ushered onto the plush couch. The fruit bowl had fruit in it. Tony was talking to Steve, the duffle that he packed at their feet.
“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just take my pills at home.” Bucky said again, because no one had managed to give him a suitable reason for why he was sitting on Steve’s couch. Pepper was watching him with an expression he didn’t know well enough to name.
“Steve’s not looking after himself very well right now.” She said, voice low enough that Bucky was sure that Steve wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you’re here, you could keep an eye on him.”
Bucky blinked. “Is he sick?”
“No, he’s just... if you’re here he’ll be less likely to work himself to death? And he might eat? He’s not the kind of person to accept help. If he thinks he’s helping you...”
Bucky nodded. “Okay. I’m like... making sure he’s okay...”
“Exactly.”
Bucky nodded. “I can do that.”
“I knew I could count on you.” Pepper said, before stepping away.
It wasn’t until she left that Bucky thought that he might have been played into doing exactly what she wanted all along.
Damn.
However, he did get the feeling that Steve probably did need someone to make sure he was doing shit like eat, or spend his whole life at work. Bucky could at least do that. It wasn’t like he could go back to work until his arm was out of the cast.
Steve was showing him the room that would be his while he was staying. The room was just as big and nicely decorated as the rest of the house, and when Steve left him to get ready for bed (man, he was fucking wiped, and he hadn’t done much at all) with his pills and a glass of water, he was only vaguely aware that it was probably super weird that he’d picked Steve’s place over the Tower, before he fell into a deep sleep.
Bucky woke up before Steve. At first he thought Steve might have already left, but his keys were on the coffee table beside his wallet, so probably still sleeping.
A quick shower – keeping his cast dry by wrapping it in a plastic bag and holding it outside the spray – and brush off his teeth had him feeling slightly more alive than he had the night before, and in no time, he found himself standing in the kitchen.
Steve had obviously taken Bucky’s message about having actual food in his house, because a quick look through the fridge and cupboards found everything fully stocked. He got the feeling that Steve may have just looked online at ‘cupboard essentials’ and ordered everything on the list, but it did mean that Bucky was able to make a decent breakfast.
Around 7am, Steve stumbled out of his own room, looking sleep mussed and confused. “What’re you doin?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Making breakfast.” Bucky shrugged. “How’d you like your eggs?”
“Uh,” Steve said, blinking. “I dunno?”
Fuck, Bucky was really trying not to stare. Steve slept in a pair of flannel trousers, bright red checks that made the paleness of his skin stand out even more. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Bucky could count his ribs, could see every breath he took. With his blond hair sticking up all over the place, he looked younger than he was, and if he had chest hair it was to fine or too blond for Bucky to see from where he was standing.
“I’ll scramble em.” Bucky shrugged. The pain in his arm was low grade stuff, and the pills he took before starting to cook were obviously working. He had a few dark bruises down one side, obviously where he hit the ground, but aside from that, he actually felt surprisingly okay.
“Okay?” Steve said, blinking once more, before looking around. Bucky could see the exact moment he realised he was standing in his pyjama bottoms and not much else, because he went from adorably sleep ruffled to high alert. “Okay!” He said, and practically ran back through to his room.
Bucky didn’t laugh, but he did smirk a little. Steve had a couple of freckles on the back of his shoulder. He wanted to know what the tasted like.
He looked at the eggs. Right. Focus.
Steve apparently took the day off to keep an eye on Bucky. This turned out to be a little weird for both of them, because Bucky actually felt fine (if a little sleepy) and Steve was at a total loss at what to do. In the end, Steve sat on the couch and answered his emails while Bucky read one of the history books that was at the top of the pile beside his side of the oversized couch.
It should have felt weird, but Bucky found himself drifting in and out of sleep, relaxed and soothed by the sound of Steve typing.
“You know you don’t have to made dinner.” Steve was saying, sitting at the breakfast bar and watching as Bucky carefully prepared the vegetables. Although his arm hurt like hell when he tried to do any fine work, he could still hold onto a carrot to chop it – and if he was gonna be forced into staying with Steve for a few nights, he was gonna get as much use out of the kitchen as he could. He told Steve as much about an hour ago when he got off the couch to start dinner, and the smaller man had kept up a constant ‘you don’t have to’ since then.
“You said.” Bucky found himself grinning. “About fifty times already. And I told you – about fifty times already – that I like cooking.”
“Can I help?”
Bucky stopped chopping to look up at him. “You know what; I get the feeling that letting you anywhere near a knife would be a really bad decision on my part.”
“Jerk.” Steve said, although there was no heat in his tone.
Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes. “Sure thing, doll face. One trip to the ER this week is plenty enough for me.” It wasn’t until he noticed the redness of Steve’s ears that his mind caught up with what he had said. However, Steve didn’t seem too pissed at the unthinking endearment, and Bucky thought maybe it wasn’t so bad. Then Steve smirked.
“Doll face?”
“Shut it.”
Steve snorted. “Sure thing, honey.”
“You rationed, sugar?” Bucky shot back.
Steve paused, obviously thinking before a grin split his face. “I dunno, sweetheart, you buyin?”
“Can’t afford you, kitten,” Bucky said, waggling his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure where the conversation was going, but he thought he might like the way that Steve was looking at him – he was smiling, so it seemed that he didn’t mind the terms. “Looker like you.”
Steve laughed, and it made Bucky grin like an idiot to hear it. “You’re a bigger nerd than you look.” He said, after he’d calmed down.
Bucky winked and went back to chopping the veg. “Takes one to know one.”
“You at least gotta let me help.” Steve said, sliding off the stool he was perched on and walking around to where Bucky was standing. “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”
“You can do that from over there.” Bucky pointed out, but couldn’t help the smile when Steve elbowed him in the ribs – his good side, of course. “If you wanna help, you could peel the potatoes. Don’t do it good though,” He added. “Leave some of the skin on. Makes better mash that way.”
“I thought you could just make mash from the instant stuff.” Steve said, looking at the bowl of potatoes warily, like they were gonna bite him.
Bucky put the knife down and turned. “Right.” He said, nodding. In two steps he was standing beside Steve, and in one movement, picked him up with an arm around the waist, hiking him up into a fireman’s lift on his good shoulder.
Steve actually squeaked, which was all kinds of adorable, before he turned wriggly. “Put me down!” He said, obviously trying to get down while being hyper aware that Bucky was still hurt. “Buck!”
“Nope.” Bucky said, walking with purpose to the couch. He had a lot of training in carrying wriggly people down ladders, and Steve weighed next to nothing compared to the gear Bucky normally lugged around. “Instant mash?” He said, shaking his head. “Fucking criminal. Stay out of my kitchen.” He had planned to throw Steve onto the couch, but the wriggly little shit somehow managed to tip his negligible body weight backwards – to stop himself from crashing on top of the couch (and Steve) Bucky twisted his body around, ending up half sprawled on the couch, with Steve’s knees on either side of his ribs. It took a few seconds to make sure that pain wasn’t about to burst through his entire body, and a combination of adrenalin and the horrified/shocked expression on Steve’s face, but Bucky started to laugh.
Unfortunately, Steve thought that was the best moment to lean down and kiss him, resulting in Bucky laughing right into his face.
“Shit!” The smaller man said, pulling back instantly. “I’m s-”
He didn’t get much further – Bucky grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in, lips brushing together gently. “Still though,” He said, when Steve pulled back just enough so they could look at each other. “Instant mash? Are you trying to kil-”
He didn’t get much further, because Steve was kissing the words right out of his mouth like he had something to prove.
Kissing Steve was fucking awesome. Bucky figured it was worth the broken arm. It had its downsides, because all Bucky wanted to do was kiss the breath right out of the smaller man and occasionally he actually did, resulting in Steve sitting on the couch with a canulla in because he ‘forgot’ to breathe.
After that, Bucky was a little more careful – pausing between kisses to nuzzle into the pale skin of Steve’s neck, or suck a careful bruise just under his collarbone. Steve bruised like a peach, and Bucky tried to be careful, but he couldn’t help the possessive thrill of knowing that under Steve’s pristine work suits there was a mark that Bucky had put there.
Steve knew what he was doing, going on the way he would whine ‘not gonna snap’ when Bucky pulled away yet again.
“Sure thing, sugar.” Bucky kissed into the pale skin along his jaw, making Steve squirm and sigh. “Gonna take my time, easy as I like.”
Kissing Steve was fucking awesome.
“Pepper told me you’re moving in with Steve.” Tony said, as they stripped out of their gear. His arm had healed up nicely, and although he wasn’t back on full duty yet, he was still able to take part in all the training exercises.
Bucky paused. “Well, we aint really talked about it.” He said, after a moment. “But... I guess? My lease is up soon.”
They hadn’t talked about it at all, really, between the making out and teasing each other mercilessly. Bucky had sort of never left, and Steve never brought it up when items of Bucky’s clothes started showing up in the laundry, or his shaving stuff migrated along the countertop in the bathroom. It just seemed to happen seamlessly – one moment Bucky was a single guy with his own kinda crappy apartment, and the next he was dating a guy who could get him from zero to 100 with nothing but a look and a smirk. He wasn’t exactly sure how no one else had noticed that Steve was a fucking horn-dog under all that blushing, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to complain, especially when he was the one reaping all the benefits.
Tony just rolled his eyes. “Gotta hope that when you’re actually living together the rest of us’ll be saved from listening to you crooning down the goddamn phone all day.” He pulled a face. “Hey baby doll,” He imitated. “Sweetheart, angel face.” He snorted. “Gross.”
Bucky laughed. “You know I can hear you when you’re on the phone to Pepper, yeah?”
“That’s different.” Tony shrugged. “That’s Pepper.”
“Hey, doll face.” Bucky said, sliding up behind Steve. He was wearing a black suit and pristine white shirt, and Bucky knew under the collar was the shape of his mouth, proud against the pale skin. The gala was in full swing, Tony on stage with Pepper managing to outclass and outperform Justin Hammer while doing absolutely nothing. It was worth getting dressed up just to see that – but Bucky had other, much sexier, things on his mind.
“Quit it.” Steve said, although he didn’t try to move Bucky’s hands from where they were working around his narrow hips, pulling him back into Bucky’s body with no resistance. “Behave.”
“Didn’t marry you so I could behave.” Bucky pointed out, “Come on, we can sneak out the back, no one’ll notice.” He leaned closer. “Wanna take you apart and put you back together again, sugar.” He whispered, “Wanna hear you come undone.... you sound so good when you’re beggin’.”
Steve let out a breath. “Buck, I promised Pepper we’d at least stay till the end of the speeches this time.” He looked over his shoulder, those big blue eyes framed by long lashes Bucky just loved. “I promised.”
“Fine.” He pouted, pushing out his bottom lip in an invitation Steve rarely missed – and got a kiss for his trouble. “Gonna put you away wet later though.” He said, obviously not low enough, going on the choked sound that the older woman standing beside them made.
Steve blushed crimson, pulling Bucky away from the crowd in mortification.
Bucky looked over his shoulder as Steve hauled him out of the hall, and got a thumbs up from the older woman, and a wink – and he laughed all the way to the elevator.
“Your gonna be the death of me, Bucky Barnes.” Steve said, later – laying flat on his back, pale skin rosy with friction and Bucky’s mouth, chest heaving but not dangerously so. Practice made perfect, now Bucky knew exactly how much Steve could take before he started to struggle.
Bucky looked up from where he was kissing the sharp jut of Steve’s hipbone and rolled his eyes. “You love it.”
“You were worth every cent,” Steve agreed, and laughed when Bucky blew a raspberry against his stomach.
“Damn right I was.” He smiled. “Damn right.”