Work Text:
Steve had been taking the train for a good year or so by now – if he bothered checking, it would probably be almost exactly to the date at this point. He always boarded at the same subway station, always took the 6:13 am train when the only people boarding were half awake on their way to work or drunken party goers on the way back home from a long night out.
He always boarded the same cart, sat in the same seat – always in the middle of the same bench, to the left of the doors, with the window behind him and the pole parallel to his left knee and whatever was advertised hanging to his right. There was room for people to sit on either side of him, his knees carefully kept closed to not manspread but still spread enough to keep his gym (which was also his work) bag secured and close to him, handles wrapped around his fist.
It was routine, getting on the train that early in the morning, and Steve had it down to a damn tee. It was tiring, waking up that early to catch a train to work, but it wasn't so bad.
Especially not after he started showing up.
He was the man with murder eyes and shockingly good looks despite the whole hobo vibe but with a soft center. Steve liked to call him the Human Impersonation of the Grumpy Cat in his head; Grumpy Cat for short when he whined about him to either Natasha or Sam.
Grumpy Cat always sat on the other side of the cart and to the right of the doors, pressed firmly against the side and hunching in on himself, almost to hide away and make himself invisible. There was always a pair of white earphones hanging from his ears, the wire disappearing into his right jacket pocket and the earbuds hidden by a curtain of dark brown hair.
The first time Grumpy Cat had boarded and claimed that seat to be his – eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Steve had done the same with his seat – Steve had noticed him. Of course he had. Grumpy Cat was a stupidly attractive person and Steve was a bisexual man with a weakness for stunning brunettes.
The guy was attractive and nothing short of stunning, there was no way around it. Despite that and despite the immediate physical attraction, Steve hadn't really started paying attention to him until two days after when a girl had tripped on her way into the cart, the contents of her bag spilling out all over the train floor and her whole face going beat red with embarrassment.
Steve had been halfway up from his seat, on his way to help on instinct, but Grumpy Cat had come to her rescue before he had, and Steve could only sit back and watch as the girl thanked him awkwardly and Grumpy Cat merely grunted in reply before sitting back down.
Steve's crush had started that day and ever since, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of him. Dragging himself out of bed before the sun was even up no longer felt like a chore because he had him to see. Because just like Steve, Grumpy Cat turned out to be a man of habit and routine.
Every morning at 6:16 am on the dot, Grumpy Cat would board the train, sit down in his seat, and glare at the air in front of him like it had personally offended him. Every single morning without a doubt.
Steve knew absolutely nothing about him. He didn't know his name, didn't know what his voice sounded like (he imagined it was nice though), didn't know why he was always so goddamn grumpy (he suspected the guy just simply wasn't a morning person), he didn't know anything, and yet there Steve was; crushing on him like mad.
But what he did know was that Grumpy Cat had the most stunning eyes Steve had ever seen. They were a pale and piercing blue, like the ocean right after a storm and Steve wanted to dive in and lose himself in them.
What he did know was that Grumpy Cat was kind enough to pull his legs closed whenever someone sat down next to him (which, Steve quickly noticed, wasn't that often because people often took one look at the empty space where Grumpy Cat's left arm should be and decided to sit elsewhere. Steve wanted to fight each and every single person on the train those times). He always scooted further to the side to give up more space.
What he did know was that Steve was so, so gone on him and they had never even said a single word to each other.
“You're pathetic.”
Steve lifted his head from the counter he was half laying over, uncaring that he was bending over and showing his ass off to the rest of the gym, and he looked across it to where Natasha was standing, one hand on her jutted out hip. She was looking at him with a judgmental brow quirked but with an amused glint in her green eyes.
Steve knew that look well because this wasn't exactly the first time it had been directed at him.
“I know,” he whined pathetically and lowered his head to the counter again, pressing his forehead against the hard surface and exhaling sharply.
“I've never seen you like this before,” Natasha continued, and Steve groaned against the counter at the amused tone in her voice. “This guy must really be something special if he's got you like this without even saying a single word to you.”
And without even looking at him, Steve wanted to add but he didn't need Natasha to know the whole pathetic story. Honestly, it couldn't get much more pathetic than this. Steve was a 28 year old man, 6'2'' tall and with his over two-hundred pound weight being mostly muscle, and he worked in a fancy ass gym that paid well enough for his hobby of drawing not to interfere.
He pretty much had his life figured out and he was whining like a damn teenage girl experiencing her first crush.
Sighing heavily, Steve raised his head and rested it on his arm, eyes on Natasha. “He's definitely somethin' special,” he mumbled. “Think he might be an angel, Nat.”
Natasha grinned and said, “And you want to defile this angel.”
“So badly,” Steve whined. “I'd let him defile me too though. All night long.”
“So go talk to him, doofus,” she said and flicked his forehead.
He pulled himself up to stand straight and placed his palms on the counter, slumping slightly before he spoke. “How am I supposed to talk to him when I forget my own name when I look at him?”
Natasha gave him an unimpressed look. “Pathetic, Steve.”
He jutted his bottom lip out at her and she rolled her eyes. “I've seen you pick up plenty of people before, I know you can do this. Just go over, open your mouth, and say hi.”
“What if I end up choking and making myself look like an idiot?”
“Then you use that body of yours for something good.” She reached over the counter and poked at his chest. “No one's gonna be able to resist those boobs, trust me.”
Steve laughed and let her poke. “Are you hitting on me, Romanoff?” he asked teasingly.
Natasha smiled sweetly at him as she retracted her hand. “Sorry, Rogers. You're not my type.”
“Are you sure? Because I've seen Barton and there are an awful lot of similarities between him and I.” The towel that was thrown in his face didn't muffle his loud laughter one bit.
“Get to work!” Natasha called over her shoulder as she suddenly left in a hurry, and Steve kept laughing as he plucked the towel from his face.
His laughter died abruptly, however, when a thought hit him. “Nat!” he called after her, rushing around the counter to follow her. “What if he's straight?!”
“Then that sucks for you!”
“You're not helping!”
“Stop whining and get to work!”
{ ¤ }
Steve wasn't the only one staring and being maybe, possibly, most likely a bit creepy.
(Yes, he was self aware. He knew ogling up a stranger was not only pathetic but also creepy and probably a bit rude. He just couldn't get himself to stop.)
It was just like any other day when it happened and he noticed; Steve was sat comfortably in his seat, the cart rocking slightly as it zipped forward. His hands were nestled between his knees, keeping his bag secure, when the train slowed down until it came to a halt.
It didn't take much before his eyes found Grumpy Cat getting ready to board and he kept his eyes trained onto him as the doors slid open and the guy stepped in along with the handful of other people.
Now, normally Grumpy Cat would just go straight to his seat and sit down, eyes on the ground the whole way there. This time, though – this time was different.
Grumpy Cat boarded, lifted his gaze, and locked eyes with Steve.
Steve held his breath while the train filled and the doors closed again. He couldn't get himself to look away and Grumpy Cat didn't look away either. Grumpy kept their eyes locked as he moved to sit down in his seat and it was only when his butt touched it that he took his eyes off of him.
Steve didn't.
No, Steve couldn't. He couldn't look away from him, his heart pounding in his chest at the little contact he'd had with him. (He was very self aware of how pathetic that was but he didn't care.)
He forced himself to look away after a minute though. He wouldn't have looked away had it not been for Grumpy Cat shifting almost uncomfortably in his seat and lowering his head just slightly, those dark strands of hair brushing against his flushed cheeks.
Steve wanted to run his fingers through them, grab hold of them and see if he'd moan or gasp or get a blissful look on his face. He wanted to pet him, see if he'd sigh softly and maybe lean into his touch a little.
Natasha was absolutely and completely right. He was so fucking pathetic. Who fell this hard for a stranger?
Steve kept stealing glances at Grumpy Cat for the entire ride, hoping to catch him looking too but with no luck. The train slowed down at what he knew would be Grumpy's stop and sure enough, Grumpy stood up from his seat and headed for the doors.
With a quiet sigh, Steve slumped against the back of the bench and hoped his disappointment didn't show on his face, while he stared at the back of Grumpy Cat's head.
The disappointment was gone in a split second however, because then Grumpy craned his head around and made eye contact again, and Steve felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
Slowly, he smiled at him, a silent greeting that he mentally high fived himself for making.
And when a tiny, little smile tugged at the corner of Grumpy Cat's lips, a responding smile, Steve's heart soared.
“He smiled at me!” Steve announced loudly as he stormed into the kitchen of his apartment later that day, sweaty work clothes stuck to him after having dealt with six whole clients who needed a trainer.
Sam was sitting by the small island in the kitchen, a plate of food in one hand and fork halfway to his mouth in the other. He paused in his chewing and stared at Steve for several long seconds, while Steve smiled brightly at him, panting just a little.
“Who did what now?” Sam asked around his mouthful.
“Grumpy Cat,” Steve explained and made his way to the island, dropping his gym bag to the floor on his way over. “He smiled at me. Smiled, Sam!”
Sam slowly lowered the plate to the island and swallowed the bite in his mouth. “It's been hours since you were anywhere near the guy, man,” he said. “Did you not talk with Nat about it enough or do you just enjoy making me suffer too?”
“Nat refuses to listen to me anymore,” Steve said. “She keeps ignoring me or interrupting me to call me pathetic 'cause she's an asshole.”
Sam snorted. “She's right though. You are pathetic.”
“You've been crushing on our neighbor for a month now and haven't asked him out yet. Which one of us is pathetic, again?”
“Still you, dude.”
“Ah, so you're not denying you're crushing on T'Challa?”
Sam scoffed and threw a forkful of his food at him. “Shut your damn mouth, Rogers.”
Laughing, Steve dodged the food and it landed splat on the floor behind him. He looked at it over his shoulder for a moment before he turned to look at Sam, a brow raised. “You're cleaning that up yourself.”
“Uh huh,” Sam hummed, sounding awfully embarrassed which only made Steve snort. “So, what were you saying about that train dude?”
With a sigh, Steve sat down by the island, put his elbows on it, and rested his head in his hands, slumping over the surface. He seemed to do a lot of that these days. “He smiled at me,” he told Sam in a dreamy voice, a smile tugging at his lips as the memory replayed in his head for the thousandth time that day.
Grumpy Cat's smile had been quick and small, just a little twitch of a smile, but it had been the most beautiful thing Steve had ever laid eyes on. The artist in him had urged to draw it, which he probably would do later. Just like he had been sketching Grumpy Cat for the past while because Steve was pathetic and creepy and head over heels for a man he didn't even know.
“You're disgusting,” Sam said around a mouthful. “You ever actually talk to this guy or is it just your dick talking?”
Steve lifted his shoulders in a quick shrug and said, “Can't it be both my heart and my dick talking? I mean, I want to know this guy and be with him and learn everything there is to know about him, but I also want his thighs around-”
“Nope!” Sam shot up from his seat, shaking his head furiously. “It's bad enough I had to listen to you doing whatever to the last person you brought home, I do not need to know what you wanna do to the train guy.”
“But I just-”
“Not listening!” Sam yelled as he hurried out of the kitchen, carrying his plate and yelling, “La la la, can't hear you!” loudly as he went.
Steve rolled his eyes at him, head shaking.
{ ¤ }
It kept happening.
Steve kept catching Grumpy Cat looking at him. It was nothing but a few subtle glances here and there and every once in a while their eyes would meet when Steve looked over at him as well. Grumpy would usually flush ever so slightly and look away immediately, and Steve would smile and his heart would flutter because damn.
Sometimes it was the other way around. Sometimes Grumpy Cat would glance his way while Steve was taking a minute just to admire him, committing the beauty to memory, and Steve would blush a little but he wouldn't look away.
Instead, he offered him a smile. It wasn't always returned but sometimes there would be a little twitch at the corners of Grumpy's lips and Steve loved every single one of those times.
Whenever he told Natasha about it, she would roll her eyes, tell him to just go talk to the guy already before it got even more pathetic, or pointedly ignore him – until he teased her about Barton which usually meant she punched him silent.
Sam was impossible to talk about it with because every single time he tried, Sam groaned louder and louder until Steve stopped trying. Or until he brought up Sam's obvious crush on T'Challa which usually led to Sam chasing him around the apartment and tackling him and Steve having to wrestle his way out of his death grip.
(When T'Challa showed up one movie night and asked Sam out for dinner the next day however, Steve could no longer tease Sam about it and Sam resorted to groaning loudly at him whenever he brought up Grumpy Cat and his gorgeous, little smiles.)
Steve was too much of a coward to make the first move, too afraid of messing up and ruining any and all chances he might ever have had with this guy. But, as it turned out, Grumpy Cat wasn't.
It was a rainy Tuesday when it happened. Instead of going straight to his seat just like any other day, Grumpy Cat lingered after boarding. His eyes were firmly locked onto Steve and Steve was looking back, his heart pounding in his chest and heat warming his cheeks rapidly.
Grumpy Cat stared and stared for a long time, long enough to make Steve shift almost uncomfortably in his seat.
And then he walked over and sat down right next to Steve, and Steve was sure he was going to die with how hard his heart was pounding.
Neither of them said anything. Steve kept trying to come up with something, anything, to say but every time he opened his mouth to get words out, he choked and ended up faking a cough to hide his failed attempt.
They were closing up on Grumpy's stop when the silence was broken.
“My name is Bucky,” Grumpy Cat said, and Steve stopped breathing. Grumpy- Bucky's voice was deep and rough and absolutely gorgeous and Steve wanted to hear him talk for the rest of his life.
“Steve,” Steve introduced himself as, slightly stunned as he stared at the man sitting next to him.
Bucky looked his way and met his eye. He said nothing else, just nodded and stood up once the train came to a halt, and he left Steve to gape (and maybe making heart-eyes) after him.
“His name is Bucky!” Steve announced loudly, slamming his hands down on the gym counter. His smile was bright and so wide his cheeks hurt but he didn't care. He knew Grumpy Cat's name, had heard his voice, and had talked to him.
Granted, it was only for a few seconds but whatever. It counted.
Natasha blinked at him, hands stilling over the papers she had been sorting by the front counter in the gym. Behind her, Banner was walking by with his yoga mat, probably setting up for his morning yoga class, and Barton was fiddling with one of the machines.
“Who?” Natasha asked after a beat.
“Grumpy Cat,” Steve said. “His name's Bucky.”
“Oh, so you finally talked to him? Impressive, Steve. And here I thought you'd keep being pathetic about it.”
“Well.” Steve scratched his neck, cheeks heating. “I didn't really talk to him.”
“What?” He voice was flat, her expression deadpan.
“He came over, introduced himself, I introduced myself back, and then he got off.”
Natasha stared at him for several, long moments. Then she groaned and threw her hands up. “I'm calling Sam,” she said. “We are throwing you an intervention because this is getting way too pathetic.”
“Nat,” Steve started but he never got further.
There was a loud noise from inside the gym, clattering and a startled yelp, and both Steve and Natasha whirled around to see what was happening. Barton was pushing himself up from the floor with a few whined curse words and beside him was the row of weights knocked over, the weights rolling on the floor.
Barton had tripped over it, Steve realized with a snort.
“You call me pathetic,” he said, nudging at Natasha, “but that's the idiot you're crushing on, so can you really be one to judge?”
The glare Natasha gave him might have scared him in the past but now he just grinned widely at her in return. The glare wasn't intimidating in the least when her cheeks were flushing a little bit of pink, and Steve's grin only widened when he noticed it.
“Shut up,” she said in a grumble. She punched his shoulder and then promptly hurried away, rushing over to where Barton was whining at the weights like it was somehow their fault that he tripped.
Steve laughed and leaned back to watch.
{ ¤ }
When Steve got onto the train and sat down in his usual spot a few days later, he was determined to start a proper conversation with Bucky. This time, he was going to do it.
“If you don't end this dumb ass pining soon, I'm gonna get up early just to go with you and end it myself,” Sam had threatened the night before but Steve was going to do it either way.
Really, he was. Sam's threat had nothing to do with it.
(It had everything to do with it.)
The train slowed down by Bucky's stop and Steve took in a deep breath as he sat up straighter and prepared himself to greet him. He was just going to go over, sit down, and start up a conversation. Maybe even ask the guy out if it felt like the right time but Steve would take just about anything at this point.
A phone number, a last name, a little smile, a laugh, a friendly touch, anything. He was desperate.
The doors slid open, a couple hand in hand walked in first, and then Bucky boarded. But he wasn't alone.
Steve immediately deflated, every last confident bone in his body withering away when he saw the man talking animatedly to Bucky and Bucky responding in small nods and friendly smiles. They walked over and sat down, Bucky in his usual seat and his friend (boyfriend?) next to him, both of them facing each other.
There was a heavy feeling in Steve's chest, his good mood shadowed by disappointment and heartbreak. He very nearly reached into his pocket for his phone to whine about it to Natasha and Sam, but then he took a proper look at Bucky's company and that was when it clicked.
Barton. That was Clint fucking Barton who constantly flirted (awkwardly, the guy had no game) with Natasha and who Natasha continued to deny having a crush on and who was a damn menace to the gym because he always knocked over something.
Small world, Steve thought as the disappointment and heartbreak slowly went away again.
But now that Bucky wasn't alone and seemed to be in deep conversation, Steve's plan to go over and talk to him got put on hold for now. So with a silent sigh, he dragged his eyes away from Bucky and looked ahead instead, giving him some privacy for once.
However, it couldn't have been more than two minutes later when someone sat down next to him. Steve blinked back out of his daze and turned to see Clint Barton smiling widely at him.
“Hi,” Clint said. “I'm Clint. You're Steve, right?”
Steve blinked at him, then glanced over toward Bucky. Bucky was glaring daggers at his friend and Steve should not be finding that as hot as he did.
“Uh, yeah,” he said and looked back at Clint. “Clint Barton, right? You make a mess of the gym I work at three times a week.”
Clint had the decency to at least look guilty. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. A faint blush rose to his cheeks and he continued in a mumble, a bashful smile on his lips. “You've got a pretty distracting staff.”
Steve smiled at him. “You like Natasha,” he said.
“Duh,” Clint said with a snort. “How could you not? She's perfect.”
“You should tell her that.”
“And get my dick ripped off? No thanks. I mean, I don't really use it but that sounds painful, so I'm good, thanks.”
Steve huffed, shaking his head a little. “Trust me, she wouldn't rip your dick off.”
“You think so?” Clint scooted a bit closer, eyes curious. He quickly shook his head and sat back though, expression going overly serious. “Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I'm here because my boy Bucky over there,” he gestured to where Bucky was still glaring darkly at him, “really likes you, bro.”
Steve's heart fluttered, his cheeks warmed, and his smile turned soft and fond as he looked at Bucky. “I really like him too,” he told Clint.
“Awesome!” Clint said, beaming at him for only a second before he turned serious again. “But as his bro, I gotta make sure you're good enough for him.”
Uh oh.
Steve turned to him, smile gone as nerves began to rise. “Okay, hit me.”
Clint paused dramatically, eyes glued to him. “Star Wars. Which is better; the prequels, originals, or sequels?” he asked.
Steve blinked at him then made a face. “How is that even a question?” he asked with a scoff. “The originals are far superior.”
A beat passed and then Clint grinned widely at him. “Congrats, bro, you just got the Clint Barton approval,” he said with a nod.
Steve chuckled and opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off when Clint's shoulder was suddenly grabbed and he was hauled out of his seat, yelping as he went without a struggle.
Bucky was still glaring daggers at his friend when Steve looked at him but there was a faint pink color painting his cheeks and Steve couldn't help but smile fondly at him.
“Sorry 'bout him,” Bucky said, meeting Steve's eyes for only a second before he looked away again.
“I don't mind,” Steve told him and let his smile grow wider.
The faint color turned a darker shade when Bucky looked at him, his eyes lingering for a second longer than before. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Well, we're getting off, so...”
Steve blinked and glanced out the doors. He hadn't even realized the train was coming to a stop nor had he realized this was Bucky's station. Damn, and he didn't get a chance to ask him out.
Well, technically he still had time but his confidence had withered away despite getting the Clint Barton Stamp of Approval.
“Yeah, you're definitely getting off,” Clint commented in a mutter loud enough for Steve to hear it, a teasing eyebrow wiggle accompanying his lewd comment.
Bucky punched his shoulder, Clint winced and clutched onto it, and Steve laughed while turning a little red himself.
When Bucky got off the train, dragging a cackling Clint along with him, there was a pretty blush painting his cheeks red and Steve could feel himself fall in love with him a little bit right then and there.
He knew next to nothing about him but he knew that what he was feeling was the start of something that could only be love.
{ ¤ }
Steve was sitting behind the counter, keeping Natasha company while he ate his lunch (leftovers from the dinner Sam had cooked the night before when T'Challa had come over) and she worked the front desk. His feet were propped up onto the edge of her chair despite the fact that she had specifically told him not to. He just did it anyway and smiled sweetly when she gave him a look.
A few people were working out throughout the gym, none of them needing a trainer or spotter at the moment, so the two of them took a moment to breathe and relax. The music was pumping further inside and Steve, like always, had the urge to change it.
Natasha was in charge of the music that day and she kept giving him warning glares whenever his hand came too close to the panel that changed it. He wasn't afraid of her, not even though he knew her punches could hurt when she wanted them to. He just liked teasing her.
Steve had his forkful of food halfway up to his mouth when the doors opened and Bucky walked inside, Clint following right behind him.
Steve did a comical double turn before he shot up from his seat, eyes locked onto Bucky and ignoring the questioning look Natasha gave him.
Bucky's long hair was put into a fashionably messy bun. The left sleeve of his (tight, good lord) tee shirt was clipped to his shoulder. He was wearing sweats that showed off his thighs beautifully, and holy shit was Steve gay.
“Bucky!” Steve said, a beaming smile already forming on his lips before Bucky even looked his way. “Hey.”
Beside him, realization flickered across Natasha's face and she stood and walked over next to him. He pointedly ignored the look she was giving him, silently praying she would stay quiet and not embarrass him in front of Bucky.
Bucky looked at him for a moment, eyes wide with what looked like surprise. He blinked owlishly twice before he looked at Clint and gave him a sour look. Clint was smiling innocently back.
“Hey, Steve,” Bucky said when he looked back at him. “Didn't know you worked here.”
“But it's a nice surprise, right?” Clint asked with a grin.
Bucky shrugged and lowered his head. Steve spotted the faint pink color on his cheeks and he smiled widely, a happy flutter in his heart.
“Aren't you happy I dragged you out of bed now?” Clint continued, elbowing Bucky a few times.
“Getting dragged out of bed is never something to be happy about,” Steve butted in, smiling softly when Bucky looked at him.
Bucky huffed. “That's what I keep telling him,” he said. “Asshole won't let me sleep in anymore.”
“What a dickhead.”
Bucky let out a chuckle and Steve's smile turned fond.
“You know I can hear you guys, right?” Clint asked, looking between the two of them with an offended look on his face. “I actually remembered to wear my hearing aids today.”
“Congratu-fucking-lations, Clint,” Bucky said flatly. “Wear them when I ask you to clean up after yourself too and maybe I'll start giving a shit.”
Clint huffed in offense and Steve couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him maybe a bit too loudly. But it got Bucky smiling at him so he didn't care.
There was a beat of silence where Steve couldn't get himself to look away from Bucky. Not even when Natasha elbowed him pointedly. He knew what she was going to say or imply with a look if he glanced her way.
“Ask him out, Steve,” she would tell him silently. “Stop being pathetic and go for it.”
She was right, of course. He should just go for it. So, taking in a deep breath, he decided to do exactly that. No more being a chicken.
“Hey, Nat,” he said without looking away from Bucky. “Didn't you wanna talk to Clint about something?”
Steve could feel her glare but he didn't care. If he was going to jump then he was going to take her with him.
“Right,” Natasha said and walked around the counter, making a come-hither motion at Clint. “Follow me, Barton.”
Clint blinked but he was already following her when he said, “Yes, ma'am.”
Which left Steve alone with Bucky.
“So,” Steve started and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter, his eyes glued to Bucky. “Bucky.”
“Steve,” Bucky said and took a couple of steps closer to him.
Steve's heart was pounding in his chest, nerves making his palms sweaty and his throat dry. There wasn't a lot he was nervous about; he could easily talk to people he didn't know (it was part of his job, he had to find it doable), he wasn't afraid to try new things, and so many other things.
But when it came to dating and anything related to romance, suddenly he was very nervous. About everything.
Steve had never had a good relationship. His longest (and only) relationship that was more than just sex was with a wonderful woman named Peggy. She had been amazing and they had been together for five years before she had broken it off when she made the decision to move back to England.
She was now engaged to another woman (Angie. She was nice) and Steve hadn't been able to get back out into the dating field since. Not with anything more than sex, that was. Which was fine, sure, but he wanted more than just sex with Bucky. He wanted it all if he could have it.
“Bucky,” Steve started again after taking in a deep breath. He decided to just be up front. “I've been meaning to ask you something for... for quite a while now.”
Bucky took a few steps closer and rested his arm on the counter, never breaking eye contact as he leaned forward just an inch. Steve nearly forgot how to speak because Bucky was even more breathtakingly beautiful up close.
But he pushed his way through his dry throat and continued.
“I was wondering,” he asked, “if you'd like to go out to dinner sometime?”
“You asking me out on a date, Steve?” Bucky asked, a glint in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Steve let out in a breath. His eyes flickered down to Bucky's perfectly pink lips for only a moment before he tore them away again. “Yeah, I am. I'd really like to get to know you. I'd like to get to kiss you and maybe hold your hand if you're okay with that too. I think a date is a good first step but if you don't want-”
“I'd love to,” Bucky interrupted.
Steve instantly lit up, his smile bright and toothy. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Bucky said and answered his smile with one of his own that had Steve's heart skipping a beat. “You're paying though.”
“Sure,” Steve easily agreed.
Bucky's eyes dropped a little, lingering on his lips as he bit his own bottom one. But instead of leaning in like Steve desperately wanted him to, he leaned back and send him a smile that was both sweet and bashful and fuck, Steve could very well love this man very quickly.
“Give me a pen,” Bucky said and held out his hand.
Steve gave him one with only a minimal amount of fumbling and Bucky scribbled a number onto his forearm, his fingers lingering on Steve's skin a few seconds too long. Steve didn't mind.
“Text me the details,” Bucky said as he stepped back.
“Okay,” Steve said, a happy smile on his lips. He kept his eyes trained on Bucky as Bucky turned around and walked further into the gym.
Later, after Sam had high fived him and after Steve was freshly cleaned after a shower and laying in bed, he didn't put his phone down for hours and hours. He was too busy texting Bucky and confirming that yeah, he had definitely fallen for the right man.
Bucky was perfect in every way, and Steve couldn't wait for their date nor could he wait to spend as long as Bucky would have him with him.