Work Text:
Bucky Barnes was a big fan of the modern woman and some days S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed like a buffet of modern women, each a unique delicacy to be sampled and savored. He thought it was a good thing he didn't have a specific type; he had a lot of time to make up for and he would have hated to miss anything. Tonight's dish, for example, was Stephanie from Forensic Accounting: a curvy brunette with brown eyes and a smile that made him think all manner of ungentlemanly things.
She'd suggested the Wall of Valor before he even had the chance.
He wondered if the ladies were talking. He wouldn't blame them if they were. Or maybe he wasn't the only one who got a kick out of seeing his name on the wall. Maybe it was more mundane than that, and it was simply the thrill of getting off in the workplace, knowing that in ten hours the lobby would be full of agents and support personnel, none of them the wiser to what had taken place against their memorial.
It wasn't like it really mattered. Not when she was warm in his arms, panting against his neck. He smiled to himself and pressed his face to her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
When her breathing leveled out, he brushed his lips over her cheek and kissed her as he set her, gently, on her feet. He curled his fingers around the bottom edge of the skirt hiked up around her hips and tugged it down, bending a little so he could smooth it down her thighs--and if asked, he wouldn't lie, it was as much to be sure she was covered as it was to run his hands down her body one more time.
For his trouble, she laughed at him. "You do live up to your reputation, Agent Barnes." She raked her fingers through his hair and pulled him into one more kiss before she let him go. Her hands fell to her blouse.
He watched her fingers as she buttoned up her shirt, hiding away the skin he'd marked with his mouth and five o'clock shadow. He hid a smile. So the ladies were talking. There was nothing decent about the flush of pride, but that didn't stop him from feeling it. "I hope that's a good thing."
"It's a very good thing." She tucked in the parts of her shirt that had come out of the waist of her skirt, then reached up to pat her hair back into place.
"I aim to please." It was only with great effort that he managed to remove his hands from her--her hips fit so nicely into them, and he was already missing the weight of her pinned between his body and the wall--in order to right his own clothes. At least he'd changed before he'd gone up to see her.
She'd look disappointed, too. He'd made the mental note for next time (if there was a next time...) to leave the field uniform on. He was willing to bet she'd enjoy all the straps and buttons and buckles.
By the time he'd sealed his pants and pulled his shirt back on, she looked as professional as she had when he'd found her--except for her lipstick, which was smeared sticky over his own lips. He grinned at her.
"Can I walk you back?"
She laid her hand on his arm. His real arm. Bucky loved that about these women, that they may have wanted to fuck the machine but every one of them treated him like a man when it mattered. She pushed herself up on toes to kiss his cheek.
"I think I can find my way."
Bucky laid his free hand over hers and squeezed. "You let me know if I can be of any further assistance, ma'am."
She gave him a wicked grin as she pulled away. "Then I'll see you next week."
He couldn't stop the surprised burst of laughter.
She winked. "Have a good night, Agent."
"You, too, Agent."
Bucky watched her go, crossing the dimly-lit lobby to the bank of elevators, and when she'd disappeared inside one and the lights above the closed doors climbed, he ran wiped his mouth clean with his fingers and smiled to himself.
The phone in his back pocket buzzed. Bucky fished it out as he headed for the vending machines hidden in an alcove off the main floor. Steve wanted to know when he was planning to show up.
On my way, Bucky texted, and it wasn't technically a lie. He just had something to take care of first.
After all, delivering a late-night snack was the least he could do for her. He collected the candy bar and drink, glad that this time the vending machines had been properly re-stocked, and headed for the security booth.
There were several great things about Andrea. Not the least of which was the way she filled out the top half of her uniform. She looked up when he knocked on the window set into the door, and the way she smiled made him wonder if he shouldn't bump that to the top of the list of things he liked about her.
Bucky was ready to start writing thank-you letters to HR for their excellent hiring choices.
She pressed the button that unlocked the door from inside, and he pushed in.
"I'm stuck here until midnight," she said as soon as the door shut behind him. "And someone has to watch the monitors."
He pretended to pout and set the candy and drink on her desk in front of her. "When's your next break?"
She laughed. "Too late for that tonight, Agent Barnes."
"Aw."
She stood up behind her desk and leaned forward. "But I've been waiting all day for this." She fisted a hand in the front of his t-shirt and hauled him close.
Strawberries. He was pretty sure that was strawberry lip gloss. He closed his eyes and leaned in, bringing his hand up to cup the back of her head.
Who knew a kiss could be such a great consolation prize?
She let him go, smile curving her lush lips, and when she spread her fingers over the front of his shirt, he was pretty sure it was less about smoothing out the wrinkles in the cotton and more about groping his chest. He didn't mind.
"Need anything else?"
"I think I'm all set." She dropped back into her chair. "Thanks for remembering me."
"As if I could forget you." Not when she'd been the first to open his eyes to what the ladies of S.H.I.E.L.D. really had to offer. "See you tomorrow night?"
"Be early this time! You owe me. My boss won't be happy about those cameras."
Bucky winked. "Then I'll just have to make it worth it. Good night."
Her smile was all fond indulgence and anticipation. "Good night."
If it weren't for Steve, he wasn't sure he'd have left. But there was an old diner and an older friend waiting for him, and he was hungry, anyway. He slipped out of the security center and climbed a back staircase, emerging into the Manhattan night. He took a deep breath, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started walking.
There were things he'd hoped for when he'd gotten his memories back. Things he'd wanted, knowing he didn't deserve them. (Thinking he didn't deserve them, he heard Steve's voice correcting. Bucky wasn't so sure, but he could appreciate Steve's conviction.) Somehow, he'd gotten everything he'd wanted and more.
He spent a lot of time these days feeling like the luckiest bastard in the world.
After a short train ride and a long walk, Bucky found himself in front of the greasy spoon he and Steve had adopted since he'd been back. He paused in the shadows pooling on the sidewalk just to watch Steve, sitting in "their" booth, hunched over his phone, with a plate in front of him and a half-empty glass near his hand. He felt the familiar tightness in his chest as he looked. He spent a lot of time feeling lucky, but sometimes he couldn't believe that his life was real.
Steve looked up when Bucky dropped into the booth seat opposite him. He sighed immediately. "Who was it this time?"
Bucky snatched a French fry from the edge of Steve's plate. "You know I'm not going to tell you. And I can't believe you ordered without me."
Steve looked thoughtful. "You've been through security, IT, requisitions, and munitions. I don't think you've hit HR or finance yet." He gave Bucky a pointed look. "And I ordered without you because you're late."
"Something came up," Bucky defended.
Steve had more class than to ask the outright, "Your dick?" so he just shook his head and said, "You know security changed the camera angles, right? You're not invisible anymore."
Bucky's grin turned wicked. "I've got a girl for that."
"You've got a girl for everything," Steve grumbled.
"Don't let the jealousy give you an aneurysm."
Before he could retort, they were interrupted by the waitress. Bucky ignored Steve in favor of giving her his best smile and ordering the exact same thing Steve had. No reason to be difficult, and there was never a time when a burger and fries wasn't the right choice. She ignored his smile and his flirting, but Bucky still watched her walk away. She might have been close to fifty but she was still young enough to be his daughter. Maybe even his granddaughter.
That should have made him feel old. It didn't.
"Bucky."
Bucky glanced at Steve. "What?"
"She's a grandmother now."
"She is?" Bucky's mood refused to tank. "Good for her." He settled back in his seat and turned his full attention to Steve, finally realizing that Steve was even more serious than usual. He looked him over and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," Steve said darkly.
Bucky didn't buy it. Steve was wearing his serious face and that little wrinkle between his eyebrows was deep enough to plant something. He was about to say as much when Steve's phone chimed. He watched as Steve picked it up, frowned, typed a few letters, and frowned harder.
"You know, if you're not careful, your face'll freeze that way."
"Ha ha. You're so funny." He sighed and shook his head, typed a few more letters and pushed another button, then set the phone aside. He looked up at Bucky.
Bucky just stared back. He waited. Patience was one of the benefits of sniper training, and he had it in spades these days.
Steve sighed again and ran a hand over his hair, shorter now than he'd ever worn it, even in the Army. Sometimes Bucky thought it was even fashionable. "It's Sharon," he said, as if that explained it all.
And maybe it did. Bucky smirked. "Ninety-seven years old and you still can't talk to women."
Steve rolled his eyes. "I can talk to women. I talk to Nat just fine."
Bucky shook his head. "Strategy and intel don't count, buddy." He stretched, feeling the pleasant ache all through his body. He met Steve's eyes, unable to help the little smirk. "How're you still so terrified of girls?"
"I am not terrified."
Their waitress appeared then with Bucky's plate. He winked up at her as he thanked her, thinking that Steve must have ordered for him before he'd gotten here because there was no way the kitchen had actually had time to make everything. She gave him a motherly smile.
"You boys let me know if you need anything else."
"Thank you," they said in unison.
Bucky picked his burger up with both hands and dug in, caring very little for the picture he made. Around a mouthful, he said, "So how come you haven't asked her out?"
Steve didn't answer him. At first Bucky thought it was because he didn't have an actual answer. Then Steve scooped up a folded newspaper from the seat beside himself and tossed it to the table between them.
"I found a few places. I thought we could check them out tomorrow."
Bucky hid a smile behind his burger. Subject change. He decided to allow it for the moment. "Where?"
"Couple in Red Hook, a few in Brooklyn Heights, one in Williamsburg, and one in Flatbush."
He made a face. "How many in Brooklyn Heights? I don't know if I wanna live that close to you."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I think you'll like the ones in Red Hook more, anyway."
"Oh. That's all right, then." Bucky grinned. "You want me out, huh? So you can get to not having sex with Agent Carter--"
"I want you out because you're a lousy roommate."
"Can't say I don't want my own space," Bucky went on, musing. He licked burger juice off his fingers. "I think some of those lady agents would like a little more than--"
"Bucky."
"What? How are you going to learn if I don't explain it to you?"
"I think I'm doing fine." Steve shook his head. "I survived a few years without you, you know."
"Yeah?" Bucky smirked. "How many times did you get laid?"
Steve's face reddened. "Can we talk about something else? Anything else?"
"I like the new uniform," Bucky said. "How do they get the paint to stay on like that?"
Steve scowled. "How many new kills last mission?"
Bucky winced and feigned hurt. "Ouch, Steve."
Steve just raised an eyebrow.
Bucky shrugged. "None. We brought everyone in alive. So there, Captain Asshole."
Steve laughed. "I like my new uniform, you know."
"Better than the one you wore for me?" Bucky pouted.
Steve just smiled at him in that way he had, the way that used to make Bucky feel ten feet tall and bulletproof. He still felt ten feet tall when Steve looked at him like that.
"Much better," Steve said.
Bucky finished his burger. "Yeah, well, you still look like a performing monkey."
"Better a performing monkey than a leather-clad sexbot." Steve gave him a smug look.
Bucky waggled his eyebrows. "I'll have you know the leather-clad sexbot look is very popular among the ladies of S.H.I.E.L.D."
Steve threw his hands up. "Stop. Just stop. I don't want to know what those dames are into."
"No wonder you haven't gotten anywhere with Agent Carter."
Steve dropped his head as if he'd given up. "Eat your food. I want to go home. It's past my bedtime."
Bucky chuckled. "Old man." He smirked. "You sure are eager for me to kick your ass in the morning."
Steve scoffed. "You wish."
"Nope. I know. It's a good thing I'm not bad anymore, I'm the only one you can't beat." Bucky popped his last French fry into his mouth and wiped his hands with the napkin. "My turn to get dinner?"
"Nah, I already took care of it." Steve slipped the folded newspaper and his phone into the breast pocket of his battered leather jacket. "You ready?"
"Yep. Thanks."
"Don't mention it. You got home safe this time, that's cause for celebration."
"Someone needs to teach you how to throw a party."
"Whatever would I do without you, Buck," Steve deadpanned, standing.
Bucky followed him out of the diner. "Admit it, buddy. You can't live without me." He clapped Steve's shoulder. "Don't feel bad. Lots of dames feel the same way."
Steve cut his eyes at Bucky. "Do I need to swoon now?"
"You're too tall even on your knees." Bucky shook his head. "Wait 'til I can sit down."
Steve made a noise of disgust. "Not a thought I needed."
Bucky smiled serenely.
Steve's phone went off again. He retrieved it from his pocket and promptly ignored Bucky--and the rest of his surroundings.
The whole thing with Sharon was kind of funny, Bucky thought. He slipped his hands into his pockets and breathed in deep, glad to be home, glad that lots of things had changed but plenty hadn't.
If Steve ever stopped being completely hopeless with women, Bucky would want to check that hell hadn't frozen over or anything.
"Fuck," Steve muttered, and Bucky glanced over to see him rubbing his knee. He'd run into one of the poles in place to keep drivers from parking on the sidewalk.
Bucky huffed a laugh. "Hasn't anyone told you it's dangerous to walk and text?"
"Shut up," Steve said amicably, and didn't bother to look up. He went right back to his phone... and right back to not paying any attention to where he was walking.
Sharon really had him twisted up. Bucky almost felt bad for him, but, really, Steve had brought it on himself. He'd had plenty of time to get used to being wanted. Even if it had only been... what was it in real time, five years? Six? That was long enough. And Bucky had always seen in Steve what the dames should have. There were plenty of good, pretty, nice girls who'd want a guy like Steve. It was his own damn fault he had a type and that type was just as likely to rip off his head as she was to kiss him. Still, Bucky took pity on him. He held on to the back of the arm of Steve's jacket and kept him from running into anything else.
Two blocks later, when Bucky had saved Steve from a light pole, two trash cans, a bike rack, and an unattended poodle, he finally cuffed him on the back of the head.
"What the hell is so important it can't wait 'til we get home?"
"It's Sharon," Steve said morosely. "I think she's flirting. I'm so bad at this--" He groaned. "Maybe I should just stop talking to her."
"Well, you could always put yourself into deep freeze for another seventy years. Maybe you'll be good at this by the time she's got a great-granddaughter."
Bucky had never seen Steve frown so hard.
"Watch it, buddy. You might break your face. Who'll the Avengers put on all their posters if they lose their pretty boy?"
"You're--"
While Steve was distracted with whatever admonishment he was about to deliver, Bucky did what he'd considered since the diner: he plucked the phone from Steve's fingers and took off in a sprint.
"Bucky!"
He was stopped a block later by a red light. When Steve caught up to him, Bucky was scrolling up to read through the message thread. Steve made a grab for the phone, but Bucky held him off--the bionic arm had its uses, and not all of them were in the vibrating fingertips.
"Steve. Steve. You're a goddamn idiot."
"Give it back. You can't--" Steve tried to grab the phone.
Bucky held it out of reach, his body planted firmly between Steve and the phone. "'We should work out together sometime.' She wants to see you sweaty. 'I'd like to spar against the famous Captain America.' She wants you to get sweaty on her. 'Have you ever had sushi?' She wants to try something new with you." Bucky cast Steve a disdainful look. "Is this how women normally talk to you?"
"I don't know." Bucky let him snatch the phone back. "Maybe? Yes?"
Bucky groaned. He shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're a goddamn idiot."
"Yeah, you said that."
"I'm just not sure you're listening to me." Bucky heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at Steve. "Have you even tried to ask her out?"
Steve winced. "Can I still do that?" He frowned. "If she wants to... with me... Why doesn't she say anything?"
Bucky snorted. "It doesn't work like that, Steve."
"What doesn't work like that?" he demanded. "Dames were plenty forward enough back during the war-- What the hell changed?"
Bucky laughed. The light turned green and he was still laughing as he set across the road.
Steve just scowled.
Bucky explained, "She thinks you're a little old-fashioned, so she's waiting for you to make the first move."
Steve looked like he'd taken a bite of something nasty. "What should my first move be?"
"Well..." Bucky thought. As far as Bucky knew, the closest thing Steve had to a "first move" was to get manhandled and soundly kissed. It wasn't a bad way to get things started--Bucky was pretty fond himself of letting the lady lead--but... "Take her up on one of those offers."
"What offers?"
Bucky gave an exasperated sigh. For a master tactician, Steve could be dense as pea soup sometimes. "The offers that conversation is full of. Go running together, spar, take her out for sushi, sit with her at lunch, hell, I don't care. Do something." He gave Steve a reproachful look. "Or don't and die of blue balls. But don't think I won't work that into the eulogy. 'Here lies Steve Rogers, dead because he could take a bullet and face down Nazis and punch aliens in the face, but women scared him so bad his jizz backed up into his brain and--'"
"All right!" Steve put his hands up. "I get it. You don't have to spell it out."
"I think I might have to," Bucky said remorsefully.
"So, what, just text to ask if she'd like to meet in the gym in the morning?"
Bucky rolled his eyes. "A phone call is generally the preferred method of communicating, but if you're going to insist on having all interaction through that little screen, yes, a text is fine."
"I can't just call her," Steve said. "She's on a mission. Surveillance."
Bucky raised an eyebrow. "And she's texting you? While she's working? Buddy, even I don't like you that much." He shook his head. "What is wrong with you?"
"I don't know. I'll ask my barber."
Oh, that was a jab at Bucky's willingness to see the head shrinkers. He'd had enough. He snatched the phone once more from Steve's fingers, said, "I don't think the barber can help you, pal, but I will," and took off at a run.
"Bucky!"
But Steve was already half a block behind him, and Bucky was good at multitasking. He started texting Sharon... as Steve. Yes, he'd love to meet for a run in the morning, and if she was free after, he'd clear his schedule for a sparring session and then, if she'd like, lunch? He'd never had sushi but he didn't hate fish.
For good measure, he invited her back to his place to see what he'd been working on lately. To see his "etchings."
Why Steve had never used that line was a mystery to Bucky. If he had even a hint of the talent Steve did, he'd invite all the girls back to pose for him.
Steve slammed into him at full force. "What did you do?" he demanded, wresting the phone away from him.
Bucky threw his weight into Steve, who didn't move at all. "Ouch. And I did what you should have. Jerk."
Steve planted a hand on his shoulder and shoved one last time. Bucky fell into the exposed brick of Steve's building, catching himself with his hands, and he almost laughed. Steve had to be pretty riled up to get so handsy.
"What I've been working on lately?" Steve demanded. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Bucky pushed away from the brick, rolling his shoulder for effect until he realized that Steve was panicking and not looking at him. He chuckled. "I'm sure you've got something to show her. Not that it's going to matter. She doesn't give a damn about your sketches."
Steve glowered at him. "You can't just--"
His phone chimed.
Bucky watched, feeling smug, as Steve read Sharon's answer and the blood drained from his face.
"What did she say?"
"'It took you long enough, Rogers,'" Steve read, voice flat.
Bucky punched him in the shoulder. "Congratulations, buddy. You might not be a virgin this time tomorrow night."
Steve just scowled.
Bucky laughed, pulling out his keys and letting them into Steve's place. Steve followed behind him, sending off a quick text to Sharon--doubtlessly to tell her good night. Bucky smiled. He could think of worse ways for the night to end.
"It's not like it was before," Steve said quietly.
Bucky thought Steve had plenty of chances before--he'd set him up enough, with the kind of girls who didn't care how short or skinny or sick Steve was. It was his own self-hate that kept him from warming a pretty girl's bed before. Bucky had run out of sympathy.
So he slapped Steve's shoulder and he squeezed and he said, "I really don't care. I'm going to take a shower."
"Good idea." Steve slipped his phone into his pants pocket and shrugged out of his jacket. "You smell like the showgirls' dressing room. Might wanna shower between from now on, you know. Take as long as you need."
Bucky gave him a lewd grin. "Thanks for that reminder. Now I'll have something to think about while I'm refilling your conditioner." He made a lewd gesture with his bionic hand.
Steve's face screwed up. "Bucky, no."
Bucky started off for the bathroom, stripping his shirt over his head as he went. "Maybe. Or maybe Bucky, yes. Who knows? Guess you'll find out in the morning, pal."