Work Text:
On Pointe
Bucky followed Natasha to America. She didn’t say why she left the troupe, but with the way her jaw clenched and her eyes went dark, he assumed something bad had happened. Luckily, her reputation preceded her, and joining a prestigious New York troupe was a matter of a well-executed pirouette and then an arabesque for good measure.
She didn’t speak much about her new troupe aside from, “The manager is terrifyingly competent.”
He hated to see her like this, tight-lipped and silently anxious, but New York… hadn’t been what they’d expected it to be. The apartment they’d had lined up fell through, the job Bucky had lined up fell through, and the only reason they even had a place to sleep at night was because Bucky had backed up a guy in a bar fight and the guy offered up his tiny apartment.
Bucky spent each day applying for jobs, then came back to Steve’s apartment and mended the idiot’s clothes for something to do, since that was something he’d done at the orphanage. Maybe if he wore clothes that actually fit him, they wouldn’t get raggedy so quickly. Still, Natasha was the major breadwinner here. He wished she could be as confident as she had been back in Russia. He wished he could find a decent paying job to take some of the pressure off of her.
Maybe he’d swallow his pride and ask Steve if his friend Sam still needed help with his coffee shop.
He heard the door open and tilted his head a little, calling over his shoulder, “Good timing. You have enough time to take a shower before dinner.”
“It’s chicken stir-fry with brown rice,” Steve added.
“Okay.” Natasha came to stand behind him. “We’re doing The Firebird. I got you a ticket.”
“Oh,” Bucky said, pleased, as he turned to look at her. She hadn’t told him that that was the ballet they were doing. Maybe it was good that she arrived in time to do a Russian ballet. “I’ll be there.”
Steve leaned out of the tiny kitchen. “Can I come?”
Natasha took a step back, surprised, then nodded once. “I will get a ticket for you as well.” So saying, she turned on her heel and went into the bathroom.
The blond frowned in concern. “Did I say something wrong?”
“She didn’t want you to see her blush, is all,” Bucky replied, turning back to darning one of his socks. “She thinks it’ll make her weak if she actually acts like a human.”
“…Was she always like that?” Steve asked after a moment.
Bucky shrugged. “She’s actually less suspicious now than she was as a child.”
“…So when she literally folds herself in half backwards—”
“It’s just to freak you out,” the brunet affirmed.
Steve squawked. “Tell her to quit it!”
“I’m not going to tell her to do anything. Sometimes I think she was an assassin in another life.”
.-.-.-.
“Do I look okay?” Steve asked again, just before the lights dimmed, as he fiddled with his tie.
Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes, because it was actually pretty cute that Steve wanted to impress Natasha but he’d asked Bucky if he looked okay seventeen times. He counted. “Yes, Steve.” He slapped the blond’s hands away from the bouquet in his lap, scowling. “Stop messing with the flowers. You’ll make them wilt.”
Steve looked physically pained. “You’re sure she likes carnations?”
“Why the fuck would I lie to you? Okay seriously Steve I need you to calm down. Natasha is intimidating but past her tough exterior and ice cold interior there is a gooey center. Somewhere. …I promise.”
“You are so bad at being comforting why do I even talk to you,” the blond hissed.
“Shh,” Bucky said, smacking his shoulder with the back of his hand as the lights dimmed. “It’s starting.”
Steve glared at him but dutifully turned his gaze on the stage.
Bucky settled in for a wait, because Natasha wouldn’t be on for a while. First Prince Ivan had to encounter the demon Koschei. He wasn’t really expecting much, because the last time Natasha had done The Firebird, some guy named Brock had been Prince Ivan and he hadn’t been particularly helpful. Or good. Besides, this Prince Ivan was the son of the troupe’s financial backer. He’d probably only been given the part because of it.
.-.-.-.
Bucky had to eat his words.
Tony Stark wasn’t a good dancer. He was a phenomenal dancer. When he held Natasha or the woman playing his princess up, it looked effortless. Each leap and bound was like watching a cosmonaut on the moon—like he could leap for yards and gravity had to try its hardest to bring him back down. It really helped that he was super fucking gorgeous as well.
If Natasha dated fellow dancers, they would have been a power couple that the entire world envied. Luckily, she didn’t, and she had recently sort of kept looking at Steve longer than she usually did.
Bucky glanced at the blond and almost choked on a snort when he saw him gaping at the stage, mouth open, clutching the bouquet of carnations to his chest. He rolled his eyes and reached over to gently shut his mouth. Steve didn’t even notice.
.-.-.-.
“You brought me flowers,” Natasha observed, trying not to show how surprised and pleased she was.
Steve stared at her, gaping again.
She frowned in concern. “…Steve?”
“What? Oh!” Steve shoved the bouquet at her, nearly shouting, “These are for you!”
Wide-eyed, Natasha took the bouquet of carnations, as if afraid he might explode if she didn’t. “…Thank you, Steve.”
The blond flushed. “Kill me please.”
Bucky thought he actually might hurt himself with the effort it took not to laugh. He held his own bouquet of sunflowers out to her to save them both from embarrassment. “You didn’t tell me that Stark was actually a good dancer.”
Natasha gave him A Look and gently pushed the bouquet back at him. “Maria Stark’s troupe is one of the most highly decorated in the country. Ms. Potts has explained that Tony started like any other dancer and worked his way up. His mother is very proud of him.” She smirked. “You’re not subtle. Yes, he is just as handsome up close.” She glanced at the bouquet still in his hands before she looked back up at him with a smug grin. “You should give him these. Call him Tony so he thinks I talk about him at home so you feel like you know him.”
“You’re the worst matchmaker ever,” Bucky informed her. “I am not going to go give these to him.”
Natasha gave him another, totally different Look. She glanced at Steve, who was still staring at her as if he’d never seen her before, and raised her eyebrows.
“I am going to go give these to him,” Bucky corrected, turning on his heel. “But then you gotta actually tell me about him so I don’t look like an ass.” He was mostly immune to how beautiful Natasha was, courtesy of being the one to wipe her snotty face when she cried when they were little. Still, he could admit that she was quite beautiful in her firebird outfit, and Steve had probably never seen her in more than her regular makeup.
He’d expected Tony to be surrounded by an entourage, because he was just that wonderful, but surprisingly he was standing off to the side of the other dancers’ families and friends, all alone. Bucky found that incredibly sad.
“Tony,” he said as he approached, because the man wasn’t really paying attention, instead looking at his phone and watch and anywhere else that wasn’t the love-fest of the hallway.
Tony turned, and Bucky felt as if he’d been punched in the gut, because holy shit from the stage he’d just looked great, but he was actually very beautiful up close with all the makeup and his clothes and he was actually going to die.
“These are for you,” he wheezed, thrusting the bouquet of sunflowers at him.
“Oh,” Tony said, surprised, and took the bouquet. He smiled as he pushed the paper open a little more. “Oh! Sunflowers are my favorite.” He looked back up at him. “…Do I know you?”
Bucky blushed a little. He had not thought this through. “I’m Natasha’s brother. Natasha Romanova? She, uh—She’s your firebird.”
Tony looked amused. “I know who Natasha is.”
“Of course you do.”
The brunet stared at him for a minute before slowly saying, “Okay, but you never actually told me your name.”
Bucky was glad that Steve was not here to see him being so stupid because he also kind of wanted to die. “I’m Bucky.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “Bucky… Romanov?”
“Barnes. Actually my name is James,” he explained, and tried to figure out if Natasha would let him drown himself when they got home. “James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky. Natasha and I grew up in the same orphanage.”
“Oh,” the smaller man said, actually appearing interested instead of turned off like most people were when they found out he was an orphan. He smiled. “So can I call you Bucky?”
Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Honey, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Oh,” Tony said again, smile widening. “That’s nice. I like that.”
“I hope I do more things that you like,” Bucky admitted.
“This is literally the worst. It is not my job to watch you flirt.”
Bucky yelped and spun around to find a woman with long red-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and holding a clipboard. He was immediately on guard. “…Are you the terrifyingly competent manager?”
Her unimpressed frown immediately changed to a smile, which somehow transformed her from being terrifying to slightly less terrifying. “Natasha has described me that way, yes.” She glanced at Tony, expression warming. “Aw, did you get Tony flowers? That’s so sweet. By the way, Tony, your mom says she wants to talk to you about the performance.”
“Okay,” Tony sighed, frowning a little. He turned back to Bucky with a small smile. “You should get my number from Natasha so we can meet up later.”
“Great!” Bucky squeaked.
“Thanks for the flowers, Bucky,” Tony said, then ducked in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before he strode down the hallway to find his mother.
Bucky gaped after him, a hand going to his cheek.
“…Mrs. Stark is going to be so mad she missed that,” Ms. Potts said, then turned, raising an eyebrow at him. “Natasha was looking for you. She said she’d expected you to crash and burn already.”
Bucky had never wanted to strangle his sister more.
.-.-.-.
Bucky stared at his phone, chewing on his bottom lip. Maybe he should wait to text Tony. Natasha had said that the Starks always held a party on opening night for the dancers and their families, but she’d preferred to come home and have some more of Steve’s chicken stir-fry. (Steve was elated. Bucky didn’t really know what was going on there. He didn’t want to ask about it, either.)
Tony was probably busy with the party.
Natasha snatched the phone from his hand and looked at it, then sneered at him. “You’re the worst.”
“All it says is ‘Hey Tony, it’s Bucky.’ I even used whole words,” Bucky complained.
“This is why you could never get a steady girlfriend,” she mumbled, tapping on his phone, then handed it back. “You’re welcome.”
Bucky blinked up at her, confused, then hurriedly looked at his phone, terrified. He made a loud, wounded noise.
[To: Tony]
Natasha said that you can put your ankles behind your head. If I take you to dinner first, will you show me? ;))
“YOU ARE GOING TO GET ME ARRESTED FOR SEXUAL HARASSMENT!” he shouted, standing from the couch and moving to tackle her.
“Steve help,” Natasha gasped before he brought her to the ground and gave her a noogie. “Not my hair! I still have product in it you piece of shit!”
Bucky instead moved to tickle her. She was only ticklish when she was off her guard. Like now.
Steve came out of the kitchen, hands on his hips and looking deeply disappointed in both of them. “Honestly. Dinner’s ready.”
Natasha elbowed Bucky in the stomach because she did not joke about food. Bucky allowed it, because she expended so many calories that she needed it.
“This… this isn’t very much,” Natasha said after a moment, staring at the bowls already prepared and waiting at the table.
Bucky went to the freezer and pulled out a carton of triple fudge chunk ice-cream. “We figured that you might like to have a little something special on your opening night.”
She gasped quietly and cupped her cheeks, reverently whispering, “Ice-cream!”
“I am the best brother,” Bucky said, grinning when she nodded wordlessly, eyes still on the carton of ice-cream. It was something she rarely got to indulge in with her dancer’s diet. He heard his phone vibrating where he’d dropped it on the floor and grimaced. “Who is about to be told to fuck right off.”
“Why?” Steve asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy. “What could you have possibly have said?”
“Why don’t you ask this butthead?” Bucky complained, ruffling Natasha’s hair before he went to face his doom. He took a deep breath before he picked it up.
[From: Tony]
Consider me dessert. ;)
Can we have cheeseburgers!? I would literally kill someone to have a cheeseburger oh my god.
I’m free on Wednesday. :)
Wait was that Natasha
THAT WAS NATASHA WASN’T IT
Okay I’m going to throw myself off a building bye. :)
Bucky let out a wounded noise and quickly texted back that it was him because holy shit who knew that Tony was one of those people that worried when they didn’t get a response.
[To: Tony]
How am I supposed to take you out to dinner if you jump off a building, punk? Just send me an address to pick you up from.
Bucky stared at his phone for a long moment. “Natasha, do you usually text Tony risqué things?”
“No.” Natasha was silent for a very long time. “…It must have been the smiley face that gave me away.”
Bucky sighed. She was weirdly fond of emoticons. His phone vibrated in his hand.
[From: Tony]
I will not jump off a building then. :) Looking forward to Wednesday!
PS I’m free Thursday morning too. <3
Bucky let out a wounded noise not quite unlike a whale’s song.
“So you won’t be home on Wednesday night?” Natasha asked as he came back to eat his dinner.
He scowled at her. “How do you even know-?”
“That’s my day off too, stupid,” she retorted, then turned to Steve. “Would you like to go to the park on Wednesday, Steve?”
Steve paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth.
Bucky leaned his chin on his hand, slowly lifting his phone and surreptitiously taking a picture.
[To: Tony]
Img.24B Att.
I think Natasha made Steve blue-screen by asking him out.
He got a response a moment later.
[From: Tony]
Have you tried turning him off and turning him on again?
Bucky snorted and covered his mouth quickly. Steve didn’t move.
“…Say yes, Steve,” Natasha finally ordered, taking pity on him.
Steve squeaked. “Yes!”
Natasha turned toward Bucky smugly. “Soon we’ll be able to double date.”
“We could double date now,” the brunet pointed out.
“I need to train him out of this… staring in shock thing first,” she said, motioning at Steve, who was staring at her again like he couldn’t believe he was real. She gave Bucky a stern look. “By the way, you can’t hurt Tony. He talks big and he knows he’s a good dancer but he thinks he’s terrible at everything else. If you decide you don’t actually like him that much, tell me, and I will help you with an exit strategy.”
“Thanks,” Bucky deadpanned, because he had no plans to hurt Tony anyway.
.-.-.-.
“…You were not supposed to come home,” Natasha said slowly from where she was straddling Steve’s lap.
Steve sat frozen, hands twisted in the fabric of her shirt. He looked like he was hiding from a tyrannosaurus. Bucky doubted he was going to move until he left.
Bucky tightened his grip around Tony’s shoulders. “…Tony wanted to meet the guy that took us in.”
“Wow!” Tony said, looking around the apartment. “This is smaller than my closet!”
“Hey,” Steve complained, then shrank under Bucky’s glare. “Uh.”
“You were not supposed to come home,” Natasha repeated with more force. “You were supposed to see if he can put his ankles behind his head and stay the night.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “I already did. Folded him in half in the backseat of his fancy car.” He sighed as Tony beamed proudly. “We’ll leave again. He just wanted to meet Steve. Apparently he thinks the fact we met in a bar fight is hilarious.”
“Hi, I’m Tony,” Tony said, holding his hand out to Steve. He yelped when Natasha slapped it away, looking at her with wounded eyes. “Natasha, why?”
“You can meet him at brunch tomorrow,” she snapped. “Get out.”
Tony crossed his arms petulantly, but nodded. “Alright. But a late brunch!”
“Why not just make it lunch?” Bucky sighed.
Tony turned and cupped his cheeks bringing him down for a quick kiss. “I like the way you think, hot stuff.” He turned and waved. “Okay bye! Have a good night! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Right before they closed the door, they heard Natasha say, “There isn’t a lot Tony wouldn’t do so I hope you’re ready for a long night.”
Steve just made a long and somewhat distressed keening sound.
“Look what you’ve done,” Bucky said, but couldn’t actually bring himself to be upset. He was more worried about Steve, honestly.
“Are you kidding? She’s going to make his night!” Tony exclaimed, unrepentant. He looked up at the brunet with half-lidded eyes. “Hopefully I make your night, too.”
Bucky sighed, unable to help a smile. “Tony, you let me fold you in half in your backseat. You’ve already made my night.”
“Honey,” the smaller man sighed pityingly, looking amused. “You have not even begun to see what I can do with this body.”
Bucky almost tripped down the stairs.