Zion_2727



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    “I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

    “Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.” 

    “Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

    “Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

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    12 Jan 2023

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    That seems to be the thing that breaks the ice between them; Bucky's never really hung out with Sam before, past being jammed into a too-small car for six hours and then two uncomfortable months in a safehouse trying not to get on each other’s last nerve. Now they’re getting lunch or coffee every few days. Sam falls asleep on Bucky’s couch three more times. Bucky joins him and Steve a couple of times on their morning run.

    He doesn’t notice, is the thing; doesn’t notice how ever since Sam slept on his couch that night he’s been letting Bucky closer bit by bit, that as Bucky’s been wondering about the boundaries and structures of friendship, Sam’s been drawing in.

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    12 Jan 2023

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    “I’m not sharing my room,” Sam mutters, knowing as he says it that it sounds exactly like he’s a fucking ten year old facing a new sibling. Steve hastily makes what Sam thinks is supposed to be an understanding face.

    “Of course not,” he says soothingly. “He can bunk in with me, it’s not like we haven’t done it before. It's a twin room, anyway, there's already a spare bed.”

    Sam guesses a bigger house is out of the question. Whatever; the three of them have spent eight hours crammed in a Mini, it can’t be that bad.

     

    It’s not that bad. It’s worse.

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    12 Jan 2023

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    "Brooklyn, like I said," he replied, taking Steve's hand and shaking it, then he paused, tilted his head, and said, "Actually, since you're staff? It's Bucky."

    "Bucky," Steve repeated, feeling oddly touched.

    "Always Brooklyn in front of the clients, though," he added seriously.

    "No, of course," Steve promised. "Good to meet you."

    "You too," he said, glancing down to where Steve was still holding his hand.

    Steve let go with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

    Working in a brothel wasn't somewhere Steve ever expected to find himself, but then he'd never expected to quit his shitty corporate hell-job to apprentice as a tattoo artist. Great as it was, his apprenticeship didn't come with a pay cheque, so eating and keeping a roof over his head meant finding a job that paid actual money. Which was how he'd ended up as the night receptionist in a brothel, accidentally holding Bucky's hand, with no idea Bucky was going to turn out to be something else he'd never expected.

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    06 Oct 2022