Archive of Our Own ^beta

“And with the introduction of Picasso, we will obviously start our modern Spanish art section, especially focusing on Picasso’s cubism. So please, everyone, read over chapter 7 tonight and get a good grasp on who the important artists were by Wednesday when I see you next. That’s all I can think of for today. Alright, so everyone make sure you turn in your papers on your way out. I will not be hearing any excuses for why you don’t have it, and I will not be accepting digital copies unless you have a very good reason.”

Steve smiled politely as one by one his students filed down to the desk to turn in their essays and started gathering his lectures notes together. He chatted with one or two students about their thoughts on their last unit and what was going to be on the next midterm coming up. Finally, after what seemed like hours later, they were all gone. Steve started to organize the essays thrown across the desk into a neat pile and then tried and only kind of succeed in fitting all of them into his bag. Damn, he thought. The one semester he didn’t have a TA to help him with grading. This was going to take weeks.

“Kebab, come on, girl,” he called out to the lump resting underneath the desk. She perked her head up, but didn’t make a move to get up at all. Steve held up her leash and dangled it in front of her face. She slowly got up and then shook all her wrinkles around, clanging her dog tags together. Her slobber slowly dropped to the floor out of her oversized jowls. He clipped her leash to the back of her service dog vest but didn’t make a move to grab it. He never really held onto her leash when they walked around together, preferring to let it trail behind her. If she ever tried to run, which she hardly ever does when it isn’t their morning jog, but if she did, he would just step on her leash before she got very far.

They strolled out of the lecture hall and headed towards the art history department’s building. Steve greeted some of his coworkers, all of which also said hello to the English bulldog trotting beside him. He got some strange looks still, most of the confused stares were directed towards Kebab, an interesting choice for a service dog, and the in awe ones were usually directed towards him. For some reason the art history department had a reputation for only hiring old professors who were usually balding and probably shrinking, nothing like Steve Rogers, the epitome of an all wholesome American pie.

He unlocked the door to his office while grabbing at the papers spilling out of his bag. “Here you go, girl,” Steve said, pouring what was left of his water bottle into her bowl by the door and unclipped her leash. “We’ll only be here for a little while. I just need to get some of my things, and we’ll be on our way.”

Steve pulled out the essays and plopped them onto his desk. He grabbed his laptop and shoved it into his bag. He pulled out the charger carelessly by the cord and threw it in his bag on top. Steve went over to his bookcase and pulled out the two books he got from the library that morning for his research and had to play Tetris a little bit to get everything to fit just right. He glared at the stack of papers on his desk and decided that he was going to try and finish at least 10 tonight. They were only 4 pages, he thought. Ten a day for eight days seems reasonable. Maybe he would only do six this Friday night and still make it out for drinks with Sam. That would get all the papers graded in two weeks like he promised the students. He took the top 11 essays and slid them carefully between the books and the laptop, hoping not to crease them too bad.

“Alright,” he said to himself. “I think that’s everything for tonight. Ready to go?” He looked down at Kebab who had her leash in her mouth and ready to go. He threw his bag over his shoulder, and clipped the leash back onto Kebab’s vest.

“Okay, here we go,” Steve muttered before walking over to his door. He looked over to the Howling Commandos poster that was hanging next to it, and tilted it to the left a little bit. “This damn thing is always crooked.”

Kebab led the way as they snaked their way through campus, but Steve finally picked up her leash loosely as they made their way onto the New York streets. There are too many interesting smells in the city, and Kebab likes to wonder some days. But, today seems like a good day. She happily walks alongside Steve and even occasionally looks up to smile at him, her droll hanging down in big globs from her mouth.

Steve unlocks the front door to the apartment building and lets Kebab bound up the stairs at her own pace. He takes one look at the elevator before shaking his head and following after her to the fifth floor.

He reached the fifth floor landing right as Kebab walked up to where Steve’s apartment was, but instead of waiting patiently by the fourth door on the left, like she always did, she strolled right past it and went into apartment 5E. “Wait! Girl, don’t go in there!” Steve called out as he bounded up the last few steps and jogged over to the place that was definitely not his and therefore should definitely not have his dog bounding into it without a thought.

Steve stood in front of the door to his neighbor’s apartment and noticed a bunch of moving boxes scattered around covered up furniture. “Hello?” He called out and knocked politely on the open front door. “Shish kebab? Come on back now, girl.”

“What did you just call me?” A woman rounded the corner with a less than happy look on her face. Her pale complexion was twisted up into a somewhat offended face, with her nose scrunched up towards her fiery eyes. Her hair was a deep auburn brushed just across her shoulders that were covered in a plain black t-shirt. This could be his new neighbor, but she didn’t look like she had been moving boxes all day. She didn’t look like she moved a single box all day in fact. Her perfectly manicured nails were positioned over her hips, obviously waiting for an answer.

“Oh, no, ma’am! Not you!” Steve said, holding out his hands. He could feel his face start to heat up in embarrassment. Leave it to him to insult his pretty new neighbor on their first introduction. “I’m looking for my dog,” he explained. “Her name is Shish kebab. I just call her Kebab for short most of the time. I live in the apartment next door, and she usually just waits at the door. I guess she saw all the excitement in here and wanted to join the party.” He chuckled nervously and covered the back of his neck with his hand. God, it was getting so hot in here all of a sudden. Was he sweating? He felt like he was sweating. Fuck. Where was his dog?

The woman looked over him quizzically and then a sly smile spread across her face. “The neighbor, huh?” She asked. She stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m Natasha. I’m helping my friend, James, move in today.”

“I’m Steve,” he gripped her hand and was surprised by the strength in the handshake. He didn’t let it show though, keeping a polite smile spread on his face instead. He knew better than to show any fear around women with sharp teeth.

“Did you want to come in? Your dog couldn’t have gotten very far.” The smile Natasha had made Steve feel a little nervous, but he wasn’t sure if it was in a she’s-going-to-kill-me way or it was just a wow-a-really-pretty-lady-is-talking-to-me kind of way. For some reason, he decided it was both.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he responded. He rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms onto the front of his jeans and stepped over the threshold.

He surveyed the room briefly. All the apartments on this floor were pretty much the same. Each place opened up into the living room that had a sliding door leading out to a small balcony. The living room was connected to a decent sized kitchen that Steve could fit his own two-person table in, but there was just empty space in this one. There was a hallway that led to the left, it led to the right in Steve’s, which had the closet, bedroom, and guest bath all lined up in a row. The bedroom also had another bathroom with a shower. Overall, they weren’t the biggest apartments, but they were cozy and didn’t feel empty with the lack of things Steve hadn’t been able to acquire for himself. It was the perfect size for him and his dog, and by the looks of it, it was also the perfect size for Natasha’s friend, too.

The woman stared at him with the same planning kind of smiling when something moved in the corner of Steve’s eye. Steve looked down the hallway and saw a bulking figure coming towards them. The hair on the back of Steve’s neck started to stand up, and he immediately started to feel even more nervous than he already was. There was something in the way this person was somehow dragging their feet without making any noise that made Steve remember a time that was covered in a thin layer of sand and drowned out by a howling wind outside the door. Whoever was coming down the hallway was used to intimidating people, Steve thought. They were used to commanding attention, maybe even fear when they wanted to. Steve knew the type all too well over the course of his life. All too well. He tried not to think of water too much.

But when the man finally stepped into the light of the rest of the apartment, Steve changed his mind immediately. This man didn’t look like he was used to being feared but used to being afraid. He was curled in on himself, like he was worried that his muscular shoulders took up too much space, that he was too big. His hair was falling in front of his face, looking mostly unwashed, and it was covering a face that wore a beard equally ungroomed as his hair. The man’s clothes were rumpled and wrinkled the same way someone who has been wearing them too many days in a row might. But underneath all of that, there was a man with sad looking grey eyes that were trained on the floor.

He was beautiful in a broken kind of way. Steve thought maybe his eyes were the same color of the sky before a thunderous storm or maybe it was the color of sidewalk right after it had begun raining. It made Steve think of sticky hot summers and popsicles melting down his arm as his mom called him in from the rain. It made him think of blustery waters and angry winds and maybe a little bit of a chill that could only come from the burn of an arctic cold. And it made him think of sky and planes and the feel of wind whipping across his face as he somehow couldn’t manage to call for help--

It was only then that Steve noticed the 50 pound dog wiggling around in the man’s grip, happily smiling up at the man and drooling on his sleeve with reckless abandon. Shish Kebab always to the rescue, he thought as he sucked in a breath.

“This yours?” The man mumbled. It looked like he was trying to not move his mouth too wide or talk too loud. Kebab ruffed once at the man’s voice and head-butted her forehead into the man’s chest, getting drool there, too.

“Looks like James found your dog,” Natasha smiled at them both.

“Yeah, I see that,” Steve responded, and he kind of wanted scratch the back of his head with how weird this seemed to be. He wondered why these two strangers could somehow make him think about things he trained himself to forget and why he was standing in an apartment that was just as empty feeling as his even though it had more life than Steve had seen in this building in years.

The man, James, hadn’t put the dog down yet and continued to look over her like she was an odd mix between an unwanted pest and a magical creature all at once. Natasha cleared her throat, and James looked up at her and then looked to Steve and then back to the dog. He looked confused for a moment, like he should just drop Kebab right like that, and Steve was ready to run and slide in order to break her fall if need be, tensing up with nerves. This is the longest that Kebab hasn’t been by his side in the two years he’s had her. He doesn’t like it. Steve was just about to open his mouth and say something when James leans down slowly and puts Kebab’s feet softly on the floor.

“Kebab, over here, girl,” Steve said, sucking in a nervous breath. Kebab looked up at him and then back to her new friend, and Steve wanted to roll his eyes. It was just like her to fall in love with random strangers after they sweep her off her feet. She looks back over to him and he raises his eyebrows at her. Kebab whines but trots over to him anyways. “Good girl,” he says kind of sarcastically and clips her leash to her vest just to make a point.

He stands back up straight and sees both Natasha and James staring at him. Natasha still had a small smile on her face, but James was watching him with a tense aura around him. “Well,” he said with an awkward smile. “I better get out of your hair. Um, I’m just right next door if you need anything.” He gave them one more smile before hightailing it out of there and getting into his own apartment.

Once they got inside, Kebab looked up at him, seeming to understand what he was feeling. “Yeah, that was pretty weird, wasn’t it?” he muttered to her softly as he unhooked her leash and got her to step out of her service dog vest. Once he was done, she trotted away to go plop down in her bed by the balcony door.

Steve toed off his shoes, throwing his keys into a bowl on his table by the door. He threw his bag onto the couch and then went to go change into his lounge clothes, all the while thinking about his new neighbor. There was a strange itching feeling on the back of his neck that that was just a really weird first meeting. It wasn’t until later that he was looking around for what he could make for dinner that the itching was starting to really irritate him. He grabbed the premade cookie dough from where it was being saved for a special occasion in his freezer and preset the oven. His mother always taught him the first impression was important and that you should always welcome people with open arms, even if said people held onto your dog for an awkward amount of time and made your neck start sweating like you were still stuck in the desert.

He fidgeted from one foot to the other while waiting for cookies to bake. He had a record on in the background, but he wasn’t paying much mind to Tom Paxton’s crooning in the background. Steve loaded the cookies onto a plate and went to the door to slip on his slippers. Kebab perked her head up from her bed. “I think I can do this one by myself, girl,” Steve told her and then drifted out the door.

He went the few feet over to the next apartment and stared at the drab blue door for probably a touch too long. Come on, Steve, he told himself. You’re just giving cookies to your new neighbor, who was totally weird earlier, but maybe he hadn’t seen a dog before. That was totally possible. Probably. Maybe. He could have just lived a really secluded life where there were no dogs. He could have been stranded on a deserted island where dogs didn’t live. Instead of dogs, there were just big spiders. And volleyballs. Kebab’s head was about the size of a volleyball, Steve guessed. James just probably was thinking about his long, lost friend, Wilson. Yeah, that had to be it, he told himself. James just hadn’t ever seen a dog before and was somehow stuck in the movie Cast Away.

Steve rolled his eyes at himself for how stupid he was being. Steve could totally do this. It’s just cookies. What’s the worst that could happen?

His fist hovered above the door, ready to knock, when it swung open. James was standing there with narrowed eyes, one hand hidden behind the door and the other clenched into his fist by his side.

“James. Hi,” Steve said surprised. “I, uh, brought you by some cookies to just, uh, welcome you to the building. I know it was kind of weird, uh, earlier because Kebab came in and just, like, totally invaded your space when you were moving in and stuff.”

James’ eyes flicked around the hallway before looking between Steve’s face and the cookies. “Kebab?” He asked hesitantly, still flicking his eyes between the cookies and his face. He glanced around the hallway again like he was waiting for someone to come up behind Steve.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I explained it to your friend earlier but I guess not you. Shish Kebab his my dog, the one that was in here earlier. I just call her Kebab unless she’s, like, in trouble or something. Then, ya know, I, like, pull out the full name like I’m some fifties house wife,” Steve explained, and the longer his mouth was moving the more he confused himself. Why was he saying all of this? Stop talking, Steve. James doesn’t care, and you are definitely embarrassing yourself by now. A housewife? Really?

James’ eyes looked down the floor where Steve guessed he was looking for Kebab. “Oh, she’s back in my apartment. I think she’s had enough excitement for one day,” Steve said.

James nodded. His eyes were now just fixed on the cookies. “Are those all for me?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve confirmed. He pushed them closer towards James who seemed to just lean further away from him. “They’re, like, welcome cookies to say, you know, welcome.” Steve pushed the cookies a little further towards James who decidedly brought one hand cautiously up to grab the plate from Steve. Jeez, it was like this guy had never been given anything before. It was almost like he had never even seen cookies. Wait. Don’t even start with that, Steve. You don’t need to go down a ‘world with no cookie’ rabbit hole like earlier. Just be chill. Be cool. You got this, he told himself.

James stared at the plate for a moment before looking back up at Steve. “Thank you…” James said and then trailed off.

Steve suddenly remembered he never actually gave James his name. “Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers. I just live right next door in 5D.”

“’M Bucky,” James, well he guessed Bucky now, responded.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. Uh, let me know if you, like, ever need anything. I’m usually here. Except during the weekday, because I have, like, a job—a day job. I’m a professor. An art history professor. Which you didn’t ask, but uh, yeah, I’m usually home, except when I’m… not, I guess.” Oh. My. God. Shut. Up. Steve.

“Right…” Bucky responded, tilting his head a little bit in confusion.

“I’m just gonna go now,” Steve said, covering the back of his neck with his hand and ignoring how much of a fool he just made himself in front of his kind of beautiful new neighbor who is interesting in a weird type of way.

Steve retreated as fast as he could, and he was pretty sure his door closed before Bucky’s did. Kebab perked her head up when he came back in and cocked her head to the side. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Steve didn’t think about his new neighbor for four whole days after their initial meeting. He was too focused on grading these damn papers and the more he read, the more frustrated he was. Right now, the average grade was about a C+, and Steve didn’t know if it was because he was being particularly hard on his students or because they just didn’t honestly try. He knows that he’s usually pretty generous with grading, and that it had gotten around the school a little bit. Everything was online these days, he cursed. But giving partial credit on an exam if they were at least a year or two away from the real date of the piece is a little different from using piss poor research skills to make some bold accusations about pretty heavily studied artists. If they even read one article about the artist they were writing a paper about, most of them wouldn’t have a paper at all!

He was pondering what to do about the grades as he trailed behind Kebab up the stairs to his apartment. Maybe he should curve it, he thought. But, he was always the type of guy to give second chances. He could offer his students a rewrite for a better grade or just stick with what they have now. Then he would have to grade more papers though, and that was something he really just wasn’t feeling.

A single bark broke his thoughts as he finally paid attention to what was happening on the fifth floor landing. Steve looked up to see Kebab panting happily at Bucky’s feet. The man stared down at the dog with a perplexed sort of look, like he didn’t know what he should do with the creature in front of him. Steve couldn’t blame him. Kebab’s vest said clearly Do not pet on one side. Not that Kebab doesn’t like strangers petting her. She absolutely loves it. Hence why she was staring up at Steve’s neighbor and drooling slightly on his shoes.

“Kebab,” he called out. He saw her ears perk up, but she didn’t turn to acknowledge him like she usually did. “Kebab, what did I say about crowding strangers? Back up.” She shuffled backwards slightly, wiggling her butt in an obvious dramatic effort, but still stared up at the baffled man in front of her.

“Come ‘ere, girl,” Steve sighed as he finally reached her and pulled her leash back towards him. He finally looked up at Bucky who was now staring back at him instead of the dog. “You can pet her. I mean, if you want to that is. I’m not, like, demanding that you pet my dog or anything. I’m just saying that you can, if you want. I know that the, uh, vest says not to, but, like, it’s okay, if I say it’s okay. Which I do, so you can, if you want…” What the fuck, Steve? Does your brain to mouth filter really suck that much?

Bucky blinked at him slightly before scrunching his nose up slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Steve nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, what are you doin’ out here? Looks like you’ve been standing that for a while.”

“I locked my key inside,” Bucky says before turning back to the door and glaring at it like it personally offended him somehow. Damn, Steve thought, if looks could kill, that door would be in tiny splinters or possibly in flames. Steve kind of hoped that Bucky was more the beat the door down kind of guy because his lungs have always kind of been sensitive to the smell of smoke, and it always hangs around for weeks. Steve shook that thought away as he started to picture engines flicked with flames as they leaned towards the ground.

“Have you called the landlord?” Steve asked, fishing his own key out of his bag. It was underneath all the papers, and he knew that he looked kind of like an idiot having to dig in his bag like a five year old in a sandbox.

“What?” Bucky asks flatly like he would never even think of an idea so absurd.

Steve looked up and felt his brows call together. “Uh, call the landlord,” he repeats with a kind of questioning tone. “So, like, the landlord can get a locksmith down here and open your door for you. Unless you gave an extra to someone, like your friend Natasha who helped you move in.”

Bucky shook his head and his hair stuck to his eyelashes slightly. Steve couldn’t really tell what he was shaking his head at.

“Uh,” Steve started. “I have the landlord’s number, if you want.”

Bucky looked back at the door for a second, like he had plenty of other ideas of what to do about his problem. Steve had a very strong feeling that his dog snuck up on Bucky trying to break into his own apartment. He always did have an extra sense for trouble. “Yeah, that- that would be great,” he finally says with a sigh.

“Oh, uh, okay. Just one second.” Steve started to dig around his bag again. He swore he had his phone in here somewhere. It totally went off in class today when Sam called him to ask if he wanted to get drinks this Friday, and the entire class snickered to themselves because Steve’s ringtone is the old “The Star Spangled Man with a Plan” tune. He pushed his laptop charger to one side. There it was! He woke his phone up and scrolled through the contacts to find his landlord’s name. “Here you go.”

Bucky took the phone hesitantly, and it was the first time Steve noticed the man was wearing leather gloves in the middle of March. He recognized it wasn’t the warmest month of out the year, especially in New York, but certainly not glove worthy either, especially not inside.

“This is James from 5E. I locked myself out.”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Thanks.”

Bucky hung up the phone and handed it back.

“He won’t be able to help for ‘nother hour or two,” Bucky sighed and rubbed one hand over his face.

“Oh, well, that, uh, stinks,” Steve mumbles. He looked down at Kebab who was staring at him with an expectant look. He narrowed his eyes back at her. What do you know, his glare said. You’re a dog. You don’t even speak English, he thought. And yet somehow, the look she gave back implied that she did.

“You can, uh, come in for a while, if you want,” Steve suggested, waving at his own apartment door.

Bucky blinked at him, like he did earlier, and Steve was starting to wonder if Bucky did that because he was confused by Steve or just simply thought he was an idiot. He really hoped it was the first, but yet believed it was the second more. “Sure…” Bucky agreed after a few seconds in awkward silence.

Steve stared at him for a second, in a weird kind of shock because he didn’t think Bucky would actually agree. Kebab blew the air out of her nose like she did when she was impatient, and Steve snapped out of it and unlocked his door. Kebab trotted in and waiting just inside the entrance for Steve to take off her vest. He dropped his keys in his bowl like usual and hung up his coat on the hook he rarely used, but kept his shoes on just in case it would make Bucky feel pressured to take off his.

“Uh, just make yourself comfortable,” Steve said as he gestured around his living room before walking off to the kitchen to check on Kebab’s water bowl.

He turned back to the living room to notice Bucky sitting in the far corner of the couch completely tense and on the very edge of the seat. Kebab was sitting between his legs with her tongue hanging out one side of her mouth. He knew she must be panting hot, gross, musty air right into Bucky’s face. She pushed her head into Bucky’s hand that was resting firmly on his own knee, and Steve decided to have mercy on him. “Kebab, leave the guy alone,” he calls out to her. “He’ll pet you if he wants.”

Kebab whined and pushed her head into Bucky’s other hand. Bucky lifted his hand slowly and held it in the air for a second. Steve wanted to say he could pet her if he wanted to. Her vest was off, so she was off the job in her head. Now she was letting her true, needy, and desperate personality come out. But before he could open his mouth, and probably stutter through another awkward explanation of his dog, when Bucky dropped his hand directly onto Kebab’s head and left it there.

Huh, Steve thought. That certainly was one way to pet a dog. Nothing like a stationary hand on the top of your head to really get the tails wagging. Kebab didn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, her smile only got bigger as more drool dripped out of the side of her mouth onto Bucky’s shoes.

“Sorry about her slobber,” he heard himself saying without really thinking. He grabbed a towel off the kitchen table and walked over to hand it to Bucky before sitting on the opposite side of the couch as him. "I would say it’s just part of the bulldog breed, but I think she sometimes goes out of her way to drool on people,” he added.

“She’s…cute,” Bucky replied, like he hadn’t ever said the word ‘cute’ out loud before.

Kebab barked once up at Bucky’s face which slightly disturbed where Bucky’s hand was still resting on her head.

“That’s her way of saying thank you,” Steve explained. Bucky’s mouth ticked up in one corner. Steve thought that was probably the closest thing Steve was going to get to a smile out of his neighbor.

They sat in silence for another minute, and Steve started reaching for his bag to go put his laptop onto the kitchen table along with his charger. He looked at the stack of papers he brought back with him and wondered if it would be rude if he started grading them while Bucky was over. Two hours was a lot of time, and he could get probably all of them done during then.

“You don’t have any furniture on your balcony,” Bucky pointed out while Steve was struggling with his internal dilemma of to grade or to not grade.

Steve looked out to his bare balcony. He can’t remember the last time he was out there. That was a lie. He did remember and was doing his best to forget about it. “Uh,” he paused. “Do you have some?”

“A chair. Natasha said it was a shame to have a balcony and nothing to watch the sunset on,” Bucky explained.

“That seems reasonable.”

“So, why don’t you have any?” Bucky asked.

“I, uh,” Steve considered his words carefully. He walked back into the living room to take his spot back on the couch and threw the papers and his red pen down on the coffee table. “I just, uh, don’t like heights that much.”

“We’re on the fifth floor. You could jump and survive that fall,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Steve looked out at the balcony again and suddenly didn’t see a five story balcony but a plane hundreds of feet in the air aimed down at the sea beneath him. The ice came closer and closer and closer and oh my god this is how I’m going to die I’m going to freeze to death alone and cold and scared and I don’t even know if it was worth it or not-- Steve blinked a couple of times and took in a shaky breathe. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said with a forced smile. Kebab noticed his discomfort and trotted over to sit on his left foot. She pushed her head into his knee, and Steve patted her back a couple of times to let her know that he was alright.

“Like that kind of long story?” Bucky asked, pointing over to one wall.

Steve looked over and saw his Purple Heart hanging next to his Medal of Honor. “Yeah, that kind of long story,” Steve nodded, looking away from them quickly. He had only worn those two a couple of times, before he retired. But the weight of them made his shoulder ache, and he hasn’t worn them since, choosing to avoid formal situations at all costs. He looked over to see Bucky staring at him, like he was waiting. “I’d tell the story, but it’s highly classified.” He forced another smile.

“You were in the Army?” Bucky asked, looking down at his hands.

“Retired Army Captain Steven Grant Rogers at your service.”

“I was, too,” Bucky responded. “Sergeant James B. Barnes. I think I have those two too, but it was so long ago. I can’t really remember.” Bucky grimaced down at his hands and then wrung them both into fists. Steve wondered what could have happened to make a man forget getting a Purple Heart. Unless getting it wasn’t something he wanted to remember.

Steve sat there a moment, trying to figure out what he could say. Neither one of them wanted to talk about this, but yet, it felt wrong to just skip over it. “My best friend was in the Air Force,” Steve says.

Bucky snorted and looked over at Steve. “You’re friends with one of those fly-boys. Man, you musta been desperate.” There was a little half-smirk on Bucky’s face, and Steve couldn’t help but smile back at it and look away.

“He’s a nice guy,” Steve tries.

“Yeah, but he’s a wing nut. You’re better off with Kebab here as your wingman. Betcha she’s cuter anyhow.”

Steve laughed loudly. “A wing nut? Really?”

Bucky shrugged and smirked down at his hands for a second. There a pause where Bucky was thinking of something to keep their playful mood going. “Natasha’s a spy,” he came up with.

“No fuckin’ way,” Steve said with wide eyes and a wide grin.

Bucky nodded and looked back over at him with a tiny smile that hardly looked any different from his straight face. “Swear by it. She probably already has this place completely wired. Mine, too. She’s going to have to kill you now. No one’s supposed to know. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Why do you get to know and live then?”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond when a sharp knock came on the door. Steve’s head whipped around, not prepared for the noise. He watched as Kebab looked over to the door before trotting to it with a single bark. Steve followed her without thinking about it and checked the peephole only to see his landlord.

He unlocked and opened the door. “Clint, hey,” Steve greeted.

“Hey,” the man responded with a nod. “James called about being locked out?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s right—“ Steve turned around and saw an empty apartment besides for the four-legged mouthbreather standing near his feet. The words got stuck in his throat as he looked to where the couch was still indented from Bucky’s body. “Uh, he was here, but uh, I guess he’s not now,” he said, suddenly feeling an itch to check the lock on his balcony door. He could have sworn he could hear the all familiar sound of wind howling through a cracked door. He could have sworn he saw something jumping off his balcony. He could have sworn.

***

Sam, I think my neighbor might be a spy
Sent 12:02

Or at least someone who is a little too into parkour
Sent 12:02

I’m at work, Steve.
Received 12:05

This is more important
Sent 12:06

I promise it isn’t
Received 12:10

Wait, is this the neighbor that you said had thighs you would ride like a stalion???
Received 12:11

I don’t think those were my exact words….
Sent 12:13

Don’t lie. I have a video.
Received 12:15

Fuck
Sent 12:16

***

Steve saw Bucky here and there, seeing as they were neighbors and all. They would stop to talk for minute every once in awhile. It was never about anything too deep, mostly just polite small talk. Bucky would ask how Steve’s classes went for the day, and Steve would always sigh dramatically and tell a short story about how he would catch at least one of his students on their cell phone a day or about how they would ask questions in the middle of lecture that had nothing to do with anything they were talking about for the day. Bucky would usually smile and nod, like he knew what Steve was talking about, but Steve could tell he didn’t really. It sometimes felt like he was talking to one of his students he knew hadn’t done the reading for class the night before, and they were just nodding along to make it look like they did. Other times it felt like he was talking in a foreign language completely. But class was always something easy for him to talk about. It was better to stay on script, he always thought.

Steve would always ask about Bucky’s day, too. And he would usually just shrug and give a vague answer about co workers that were difficult to work with, but he never actually said what he did. Steve never asked either, getting an uneasy feeling every time he thought about it. He would sometimes wonder as he was unlocking his door after their conversations. He figured Bucky wasn’t the type of guy to do an office job in some cubicle down on 6th Street, but he also didn’t see him working as some cash register at the 24 hour food mart on the corner.

Bucky was usually leaving as Steve was coming in after school. They never seemed to be leaving or coming in at the same time. Steve guessed Bucky just kept strange hours. He’d leave at 5 or 6 in the evening, and Steve would hear him come back into his apartment around 2am or so. That sounds creepy, he thinks. It wasn’t like he was listening for him or anything. He just happened to be awake most nights was the thing. He didn’t usually fall asleep until 4 or 5 in the morning, if he did at all. Kebab snores was the reason he would tell people if they asked why he doesn’t sleep well. They usually didn’t question it after meeting the dog. It was literally impossible for her to stand somewhere and not make noise. She was either sighing in impatience, huffing in annoyance, or just breathing too loud so people would be reminded that she was there and ready to have their love and attention.

Besides, the walls happened to be really thin in between their places. Steve used to listen to his old neighbor play Supertramp records until 1 in the morning most nights except Wednesdays when he would go out to bars. Why Wednesdays, Steve didn’t know. Then the Supertramp would start up around 2 and end around 5. Steve was pretty sure he knew their entire discography by the time the other guy moved out, which was not really a thing he had wanted in his life.

One day a few weeks after Bucky moved in, Steve was coming up from letting Kebab out for her last walk as Bucky was trying to get into his apartment. He was fiddling with the key, and Steve could hear him curse under his breath as it didn’t budge.

Kebab shuffled up to him and sat down right at Bucky’s feet. Bucky didn’t look down at her which caused her to whine shortly and paw at his leg. “Hey, you alright?” Steve asked. Usually Bucky would crouch down at pat Kebab on the head whenever they crossed paths. It was always a short pat like he was still uncomfortable with something so small at his fingertips. She would yip at him and then Bucky would look up at Steve with a small smile before leaving. Steve couldn’t help but watch him leave most of the time.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded, not looking away from the lock. It wasn’t at all convincing.

Steve passed him to get to his own door and looked up just in time to notice Bucky trying to hide a bruise on the side of his face. It was a deep purple that spread across his cheekbone and then a dark bluish black under his eye. “Uh, the lock usually sticks,” Steve said. “You have to pull the door towards you and turn the knob to the left, and it should work after that.”

Bucky nodded, letting his hair fall further in front of his face. Steve felt uncomfortable watching Bucky try his lock some more, so he opened his own door and let Kebab inside. He took off her vest and filled her water bowl before going over to his freezer and pulling out his emergency bag of peas. He shivered as he stuck his hand in, but pushed the nightmares playing on the backs of his eyelids about his hands turning blue right in front of his eyes as he tried to keep the ice out of his lungs away.

His mom had always had at least two bags in the freezer because of how many fights Steve started when he was younger, full of anger the desire to make something out of a bad situation. He hadn’t used it since he became a professor, trying to mellow out more in life after becoming a professional, and that was probably the only reason he was willing to let go of his emergency bag at all. Sometimes, when he got really close to just wanting to split his knuckles on some guy’s teeth, he would think of that look on his mother’s face when he came home with a split lip. Some days he could almost hear the sigh and the sound of her voice as she told him he was meant to be something more than this. Some days it was the only way he could remember what she sounded like at all. But that was a story for a different day.

Steve grabbed the bag, ignoring the second shiver that went down his spine as he held onto the coldness, and walked back over to Bucky’s door. He obviously had gotten in, or at least decided to leave the apartment building all together. Steve knocked quietly. He didn’t hear Bucky come to the door, but he wasn’t surprised. During the night, all he heard of Bucky coming in was the squeak of the front door. The guy was so quiet Steve sometimes wondered if he lived there at all. Eh never heard the clanking of pots and pans or the creak of the floorboards as he shuffled off to bed.

Bucky cracked the door open, and Steve could only see the outline of the bruise from where Bucky was hiding it from behind the door and his hair. “Uh, here,” Steve said, sticking his hand out near the doorknob but not crossing the threshold. He knew better than to go where he wasn’t welcome.

Bucky looked down at the peas and then looked back up at Steve.

“It’s for the, uh, the eye. It helps. It’s what my mom used to do when I used to get into fights. She used to stick it to my eye until all the peas thawed and then throw them in the pot for dinner,” Steve explained, his face growing slightly pink. He doesn’t care, he thought. Who the fuck wants to listen to some neighbor go on about his dead mother’s parenting techniques? No one, that’s who. Jesus, Steve.

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled, reaching out for them. He held them in his hand for a moment before dropping his arm back to his side. Steve thought maybe he should leave, but Bucky looked like he was about to say something. “Did you have any dinner plans?” He asked out of the blue.

“What?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Dinner plans,” Bucky repeated. He held the peas up and shook them slightly. “Want some peas?”

Steve snorted and covered up his mouth in embarrassment. Bucky smiled slightly and opened his door wider for Steve to step in. The apartment was mostly bare. It had the basic furniture, a table, a couch, and a shelf with some books on it that Steve didn’t think were in English. It reminded him of his apartment a little bit. It almost felt like they were trying to settle down, make a home for themselves, but it just didn’t feel right. Steve had been moved around so much that making a permanent place for himself filled with knickknacks covering counter space and framed photographs hanging on the walls just didn’t make a lot of sense to him. There wasn’t anything in the kitchen at all that Steve could see. He wondered if Bucky just hadn’t bought a microwave yet, or if he was just against the wonders of modern technology. Maybe it would make too much noise, he thought.

“Is Kebab fine by herself?” Bucky asked.

“Hm,” Steve hummed, looking back at Bucky who was still hanging on the door. “Oh, yeah, she’s just going to, uh, go to bed probably. If she does something or wants something, trust me, we’ll know.”

Bucky nodded and gestured for Steve to go further into the apartment. “Did you want a beer or something?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Steve responded, standing over near the couch, not really sure if he should sit down or not. He wasn’t used to going into other people’s apartments. Other people’s offices, sure, and to be honest his office was probably a little bit more lived in then his actual bedroom. But in offices, there are usually only two chairs, so it was easy to figure out what you were supposed to do.

Here, there were options. He could sit in the middle, and then force Bucky to sit next to him. And as much as Steve thought about putting his hands on Bucky’s hips since he met him, it didn’t seem like a good idea to get too close without warning. He could sit on one of the sides, but then he would have to pick a side. Personally, he liked the right side of his couch better. It was closer to the outlet for his laptop charger, and the lighting from his lamp was good to read under. But in Bucky’s apartment, there were any lamps nor was there any technology recklessly thrown across the floor like Steve likes to do.

Steve watched as Bucky opened his fridge and saw nothing but a six pack and a couple takeout containers. Bucky handed one over to Steve and then finally put the peas on his eye. He didn’t flinch at the cold, and Steve had to remind himself that not everyone does. The cold doesn’t swallow everyone up the same way it does him. They could just be cold and move on. They didn’t have to wonder if they were going to wake up in hospitals weeks later with no one by his side. Stop it, Steve. There’s no reason to think of this right now.

“You can sit if you want,” Bucky said, hopping over the back of the couch himself and throwing his feet on top of his coffee table. The peas never left his eye. Steve decided to sit on the opposite side of the couch like a normal person because he knew he wouldn’t have the same amount of grace Bucky did while vaulting over a couch with a beer in his hand.

“Did you get that at work?” Steve asked and immediately wanting to put his foot in his mouth. Jeez, Steve, he thought. They guy never gives details about work because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You shouldn’t go asking him like some insensitive bastard who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. Lord knows there are plenty of things that you want to keep hidden.

“Do you even know what I do?” Bucky asked. He had the one eyebrow not covered by the peas raised. It looked like he was joking around with the corner of his mouth pulled up just slightly, but Steve could tell underneath the mirth that Bucky was actually concerned about the answer. There was something in the corner of his eye that was dangerous, daring to be messed with the wrong way. It said that if Steve figured out his secrets, something might have to be done about it, even if he didn’t want to do them himself.

Steve took a sip of his beer, eyes never leaving Bucky’s face. “I figured you worked in, uh, security or something. You keep weird hours like a bouncer or night guard someplace,” Steve shrugged, hoping that was an acceptable answer.

The glint in Bucky’s eyes calmed down a little bit. “Yeah, you could say that,” Bucky muttered. “Uh, yeah, I got it at work. Not that big of a deal.”

“Is this the part where you tell me I should see the other guy?”

“Do people still throw that line around?” Bucky asked with a snort. “It’s so tacky. I would never.”

“No?” Steve asked, sipping his beer again. This time he watched as Bucky’s eyes dipped to his mouth. “Not the line throwing type?”

“Oh, I could throw some lines down,” Bucky replied with a smirk. He threw the arm holding his beer over the top of the couch. Steve could feel the heat of his hands near his shoulder. “Just never something tacky.”

“All lines are tacky,” Steve argued, smiling.

“Not true! I have picked up plenty of people with wholesome, classy lines.”

“Oh please, no one has ever be given a line and thought, Hm, that was real classy.”

“They so have.”

“Prove it,” Steve said. He almost wanted to feel at least a little bit of shame for having a conversation about tacky lines and then using a tacky line himself, but he could only feel a spike of excitement as Bucky sat up straighter in his chair.

Bucky pulled the bag of peas away from his eye, and Steve noticed that the bruise wasn’t even as bad as he originally thought. It was a little green, but mostly yellow, like it was already healing itself from the time he saw him at the door. Huh, that was kind of a neat party trick, Steve thought to himself. Bucky tucked some of his hair behind his ear and took a sip of his beer. Steve did the same, feeling the carbonation bubble up behind his lungs somewhere and holding a feeling deep in his throat. Both of them were looking at each other, waiting for one of to just make a move. The both shifted closer to each other and left little room between them on the couch. Steve could feel some of the heat radiating off of Bucky’s arm from where it was now brushing his shoulder. He felt warm all the way to his toes.

“I’m surprised you could make it out tonight, sugar,” Bucky said, looking Steve right in the eye.

“Sugar?” Steve repeated, feeling the need to swallow. He wondered if his beer was empty. He felt the need to hydrate himself.

“Something as sweet as you has gotta be rationed,” he added a wink in for good measure, and Steve really wanted to think that this was all some tacky show that wasn’t affecting him. God, it was such a bad line, and it was such an old line. It really shouldn’t have made Steve think twice. But instead he felt something inside his stomach tingle as he leaned in closer and wanting to taste the other man’s tongue.

Bucky smirked. “It totally worked.”

Steve nodded as he leaned in further. Bucky ran a hand up Steve’s thigh as he draped the other one still holding beer over one of Steve’s shoulders. Time seemed to slow down as Steve felt the heat of Bucky’s palm rest over his hip. Steve didn’t really know what to do with his hands and ended up putting one on Bucky’s shoulder, the other staying in his lap, gripping his beer probably a little too tightly. The condensation made his palm wet, and it was just so ironic that he felt like he had been walking in a desert for hours trying to make it to this little, private oasis. He could feel Bucky’s breath fan across his cheek, and he couldn’t help but look at Bucky’s mouth that was slightly open. Bucky licked his lips, and Steve remembered how long it had been since he was this close to someone else.

Bucky gripped the back of Steve’s neck as they were finally leaning in to close the distance between them. God, it felt like it had been an hour, but now they had a momentum going that wasn’t going to stop until they finally—

Kebab barked the apartment next door, and Steve turned his head towards the sound. Bucky’s kiss landed on the side of Steve mouth. Kebab barked again, and Bucky laughed into Steve’s cheek. Steve sighed, wondering why of all times, now was the moment his dog decided to be a drama queen. She barked again. “Sorry, but I should…” Steve trailed off, not really wanting either one of them to let go.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bucky said, letting go and leaning back into the couch. He smirked around his beer and watched as Steve got up to leave. “See you around, sugar,” he called after him, and Steve couldn’t help but smile all the way into his apartment.

The bruise was gone in the morning.

***

So have you gotten laid yet or what?
Received 17:09

SAM
Sent 17:10

***

Steve talked to Bucky a week later even though he hadn’t stopped thinking about him sent he felt Bucky’s fingerprints dig into his flesh. They had seen each other briefly over the week, crossing paths at least once a day. They hadn’t talked about their almost kiss, but they both caught each other looking at the other’s mouth probably a little too long for just friendly neighbors. Bucky had also gotten used to calling Steve ‘Sugar’ whenever they were passing by. Steve didn’t mind, but he was starting to think that he was a tomato in another life by how much his skin would flush every single time. He didn’t know if he was desperate or smitten or a little bit of both.

He was standing on the corner, waiting to cross the street towards his apartment building when it happened. Kebab sat impatiently by his side as they waited for the light to turn in their favor. She huffed in annoyance, hating to wait on sidewalks for too long, when she something caught her interest, and she bolted towards the street.

“Kebab! Get back here!” Steve yelled, cursing himself for not holding onto the leash tighter. He knows she does this. He knows that, but he always thinks that she’s suddenly going to gain some patience. Why does he do that? Isn’t that what they say about the insane? Trying the same thing over again and expecting a different result? He always dangles the least lightly in his hand as they wait to cross the street hoping that nothing catches the dog’s attention, even though she’s pretty a toddler with ADHD on a sugarhigh with kittens.

Steve tried to jump into the street after the surprisingly fast, pudgy creature that was drooling happily across the road, but he was stopped quickly by a honking cab that almost got a little too familiar with Steve’s face. “Kebab!” he yelled as he watched her dodge cars with much more grace than he could right now. “God damnit, girl,” he cursed under his breath as he made it not even six feet in the street.

He was watching her tail wag from above the hoods of the cars rushing past him when he couldn’t find her anymore. He called her name out again. Oh god, Steve thought. He could feel his throat close up a little bit. Where did she go? Where did she go? She knows not to go out into the street. She knows that Steve can’t sleep without her snoring by his feet. She knows that Steve can’t go up into skyscrapers unless she pushs him away from all the windows, getting her snot all over his shoes. She knows that if a stranger starts talking to Steve too long, she has to make a distraction so Steve can find a second to breathe, to remember where he is, to remember everything is okay now. She knows he can’t live without her. She knows that. Steve knows that she knows. So why did she run out into the street? Oh god. “Kebab!”

Steve saw a shadow move towards him and then he was pushed back to the sidewalk with a force that almost made him trip over the curb.

“Lose somethin’, sugar?”

Steve looked down to see Kebab staring up at him with a confused look, like she was trying to say Geez, what’s all the fuss about? I just went for a little stroll. If only, Steve thought.

Steve dropped to his knees without even thinking about it. “Oh my god, don’t you do that. You know not to do that,” he said, pulling her into him and hugging her tightly. “Don’t you do that again, Kebab. Don’t you dare. Don’t scare me like that,” he muttered into the loose skin of her neck. She barked once in response, and Steve couldn’t help but let out a wet laugh. It helped him pretend he wasn’t standing in the middle of a busy New York street crying about a dog who is clearly fine and annoyed with him fretting over her for no real reason.

“You okay?”

Steve looked up to see Bucky stare back down at him. Steve couldn’t tell if he looked worried or just confused. “Yeah,” he replied, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat and stood up, wrapping Kebab’s leash around his hand three times for good measure. “Yeah, I’m fine. Uh, thanks. Those were, uh, some quick reflexes you got there.”

“I practice saving cute dogs that run away to impress their cute owners,” Bucky said with a shrug. He was wearing the same little smirk that he had when they were sitting on each other’s couch and joking around, and Steve could suddenly remember what it was like to have oxygen in his lungs and the ground under his feet.

Steve felt his ears go hot, and he went to cover the back of his neck. He looked down at the ground and chuckled a little bit. “Well, I, uh, I appreciate it. A lot. She means a lot to me.”

Bucky just shrugged in response as if to say that it was nothing at all and kept looking at Steve, only making the blush worse.

A car honked somewhere near them, and Bucky and Steve both snapped out of whatever weird bubble they were in. Steve looked across the street to see that he had missed his chance to cross. He looked back over to Bucky, who seemed to cave in on himself all of a sudden. His hands were shoved tightly into his pockets, and his eyes danced around the corner. He seemed to follow every single sound that was happening with his eyes and ears. His jaw was set and his shoulders high.

Steve recognized the look immediately and swallowed. It was the look of a caged animal-- No. Not a caged one, he thinks. But one that was recently freed and still waiting for the county dog catcher to come around the corner with his neck and his chains ready to take him back to a damp home filled with too much noise. Bucky noticed Steve’s staring and clamped his gaze down onto him instead. He watched his face intently, as if waiting for Steve to say something or do something. Steve wouldn’t of course. Probably couldn’t these days even if he tried. He had lost that kind of fight in him in the desert somewhere, but more probably the ice.

“Are you, uh, comin’ or goin’?” He asked to brush off some of their sudden uneasiness.

Bucky blinked at him and then looked across the street towards their apartment building. “Comin’,” he responded and then turned on his heels to start crossing the street. Steve jumped, not realizing the light had changed again, and hopped to catch up to him.

Steve walked a few paces behind Bucky, who seemed fine with it. He watched as Bucky scanned everything around him with a certain amount of nerves. Steve could almost feel his discomfort, and from the looks of it, Kebab did, too. Her nurturing nature was starting to show as she started to whine highly in the back of her throat, trying to get Bucky’s attention from where she was right behind his feet.

Kebab yipped once as they neared the door, and Bucky finally looked back at her. Steve watched as Bucky stared at the dog with a perplexed look like the first day they met and Bucky still wasn’t entirely sure what to do with her.

“Watch out,” he said quickly as he noticed a middle-aged woman paying too much attention to her phone get close to Bucky’s right side. He reached out to pull Bucky in at the elbow without thinking. Steve was so used to having to pull in students by the backpack strap. They never seemed to notice where they were going when they were ranting about something or other and walking next to their professor. It was a habit these days to pull people into his orbit and use his hulking figure to keep them from running into anything or anyone.

Bucky’s arm was cold, he remembers thinking right before he realized how stiff the arm felt, like it wasn’t made out of flesh at all, like it wasn’t even really there. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier, hadn’t notice freezing metal touching his leg or his shoulder or his wrist. He was good at finding anything cold these days. Bucky jerked his arm away quickly, looking behind him with a short look. “Uh, sorry,” Steve said, tucking his free hand into his pocket and feeling his neck heat up in embarrassment. There goes the cold, he thought.

Bucky shook his head and ran his right hand over his face as if he was trying to wipe away his scowl. He shrugged with his right shoulder and then held the door open for Kebab to trot through. “She always do that?” he asked as he ushered Steve in the front door before him.

“Do what?” Steve asked as he started up the stairs, not even bothering a glance at the elevator today. Bucky followed almost naturally behind him, his footsteps quiet underneath Kebab’s clacking nails and Steve’s own heavy footed steps.

“Run away.”

“Oh,” Steve said, watching closely as Kebab made it up to the next landing. “Uh, no, not really. She’s not supposed to at least, being a service animal and all. She’s supposed to be well trained. But she’s always kinda done what she wants, and I guess she saw something interesting across the street.”

Bucky hummed. “It was me.”

Steve hummed, not really recognizes what Bucky was saying.

“I was across the street,” Bucky reiterated as he realized Steve wasn’t paying complete attention.

“Huh?” Steve clenched his eyebrows together and turned around slightly, stopping all together. It wasn’t like Kebab to run away from him, not even if she saw someone she liked. Sam was probably her favorite person on earth, and when she saw him, all she did was wag her tail so hard her entire body wiggled with the ferocity of a minor earthquake. She sometimes would bark if Clint was around because Clint always seemed to have food somewhere in his pockets he pretended to sneak her when Steve wasn’t looking even though Steve has told him many, many, many times to not give her pizza rolls from his back pocket. But running away? That’s never happened.

Bucky was standing on the step right below Steve. He was scanning Steve’s face as he tried to make sense of what happened today. Bucky cocked his head to the side and smirked just a little with the corner of his mouth as Steve started to realize how close they were standing together. Bucky’s right arm rested against the railing, brushing against Steve’s left. Their chests were only a few inches apart, and Steve could feel Bucky’s breath against his chin. “Uh,” Steve filled the space, knowing he must have been blushing but for some reason not being able to feel it over the pulse he felt pounding in his ears.

“I guess I’m her favorite then,” Bucky muttered, shifting closer.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but not coming up with anything clever enough to actually say out loud. Bucky’s smirk only grew bigger, and he leaned in closer. He heard Kebab bark from the floor above them and couldn’t but help and think he was saved by the bell, or bark, he guessed. “We should probably go get her. Well, not we- I mean she’s my dog, so I should be the one to, uh, get her, but you could come if you, uh, wanted to.”

“You invitin’ me in, sugar?” Bucky asked. His smirk was still there, like he was enjoying watching Steve get so flustered. Which he probably was. Steve thinks that if their positions were reversed and he was the one watching Bucky become a stuttering, blushing mess who didn’t really know when to stop talking, he would like it, too. Probably a lot.

“Uh, yeah, sure. If you want to, I mean.”

Bucky nodded. “That sounds great.”

Steve nodded once before turning around and walking the rest of the way to his apartment. He opened the door and got Kebab out of her vest before turning around to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe. “Just make yourself at home,” Steve said, waving to the apartment before going into the kitchen to fill up Kebab’s water. He had a very strong sense of deja-vu while setting Kebab’s water down and patting her on the back a couple of times after taking off her vest.

“You hungry?” Steve asked.

“A little,” Bucky responded from where he was leaning against the back of the couch.

Steve nodded and opened his fridge to see what he had in stock. He could make pasta, he thought. He had plenty of fresh vegetables from the market near the school, and he was a little worried they were going to go bad soon before he finds the time to make that ratatouille he was craving. He could also make steaks, but that meat would probably still be good next week. He also had chicken still. Steve scrunched up his face in thought. “You like chicken stir-fry?” He heard Bucky give some sort of affirmative answer behind him, and he started to pull out all the ingredients.

“You want some help?” Bucky asked.

“Uh, sure. How are your knife skills?”

Bucky let out a sudden chuckle, and Steve looked up at him confused. “They’re pretty good. Some would even say excellent.”

Steve rolled his eyes with a smile, but set Bucky up on chopping the vegetables. They talked quietly as they cooked. Steve switched from the stove to the counter where Bucky was chopping away at veggies with a speed and accuracy that was quite impressive. He couldn’t help but watch, and Bucky couldn’t help but point out that Steve kept watching him. He just shrugged in response, no longer embarrassed by finding Bucky attractive. Well, at least not in the comfort of his own home. Besides Bucky didn’t seem to mind. He laughed and hip checked Steve, telling him he was going to burn the food with all that staring he was doing. Steve didn’t think that would be so bad. There was a killer Indian place two blocks over that will deliver.

Eventually, Bucky ran out of things to cut, so he just leaned against the counter as he and Steve continued to talk. Kebab came in at one point and decided that what Steve and Bucky were doing was terribly boring, so she just went to go lay down in front of the balcony door to bark at birds flying by.

Steve learned that Bucky hated the taste of bananas and also wasn’t a big fan of blueberries, but he loved apples. Steve told him that he hasn’t had an apple in years because the last time he did the back of his throat itched and it freaked his mom out so bad that she snuck an epipen from work for him to carry with him at all times. When Bucky asked if Steve had any family, he learned he was an only child and that his family was all dead. Bucky noticed Steve’s mood drop as he stared into the pan in front of him, so he told some hilarious stories about his own siblings as they grew up. Bucky got this faraway look in his eyes as he talked about his family and growing up, like he didn’t quite remember it all the way.

“Here,” Steve said, holding the spoon up to Bucky’s mouth. “Taste this.”

Bucky closed his lips around the spoon, throwing a playful look towards Steve. He closed his eyes and then groaned after a second. “’S good,” he said with a mouthful.

“Good?” Steve laughed as Bucky tried to swallow the food that was definitely still too hot to be eating.

He nodded. “’S hot,” he added with a smile as he covered his mouth.

“We can let it cool,” Steve said, pulling the food off the burner. “Should get the plates,” Steve suggested, pointing to the cabinet that was right next to Bucky’s head.

“I don’t mind,” Bucky said, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at Steve. He stepped in front of Bucky, not taking his eyes off his face as he reached around him to grab some plates on the second shelf. Bucky reached out and ran one hand against Steve’s side, the other going to Steve’s hip. Steve set down the plates quickly with a clatter and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He rested his other hand on Bucky’s sternum. Bucky hummed and Steve smiled as they leaned in, both wanting to continue where they left off the other week.

Bucky ran his nose down Steve’s cheek before kissing the side of his mouth like he did the last time. “You smell nice,” he muttered into Steve’s skin.

Steve was about to say something, something that would move this along just a little bit faster, so they could finally get what they wanted when Bucky’s phone rang. Bucky’s face scrunched up first in confusion and then changed to annoyance as he let go of Steve with one hand to dig into his back pocket and find his phone. He rolled his eyes at the screen and looked up at Steve, muttering a quick apology. Steve went to pull away, but Bucky just looped his fingers around one of Steve’s belt loops to keep him close.

It was only then that Steve realized Bucky was still wearing gloves. Steve tried not to micro-analyze it as he ran one of his hands through the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck, the other tracing the curve of his shoulders. Tried being the key word, but there wasn’t much to do when the boy he was hoping would suck his teeth wanted to talk on the phone instead of pay attention to him.

“Barnes,” Bucky answered the phone, keeping his eyes on Steve.

“At Steve’s.” Steve perked up a little and paid more attention to what Bucky was saying.

“Yeah, my neighbor,” Bucky said with a smirk, catching Steve’s eye and tugging Steve a little bit closer.

Steve watched as Bucky’s mood changed from playful to irritated the longer the person on the other end of the line talked. “What?” he almost barked. He wasn’t looking at Steve now, but he was still holding onto him.

“Why would he do that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’. I’m on my way now,” Bucky said before hanging up.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked.

Bucky sighed, squeezing Steve’s hips for a second before slipping out from between him and the counter. “I have to go. Work emergency.”

“Oh,” Steve said, deflating with disappointment a bit. “Okay.”

Bucky studied Steve for a second before rushing him. He grabbed the sides of his neck and pushed a kiss near Steve’s ear. “Next time, sugar. I promise,” he swore into Steve’s skin before pressing a second kiss there and turning around to leave. Kebab stood up from where she was laying down, and Bucky swooped down to pat her on the head once before leaving. She turned around to look back at Steve as if asking what’s up with him?. Steve just shrugged not looking forward to reviewing lecture notes instead of biting at Bucky’s neck like he wanted to.

He left a Tupperware container of the stir-fry by Bucky’s door for when he came home.

***

Stop sulking and come out with us tonight
Received 18:44

I’m not sulking
Sent 18:52

You went to your sulking bakery this morning
Received 18:55

I do not have a sulking bakery
Sent 19:00

Sure you do. It’s that place on the corner near your school and you always get their banana bread when you’re sad
Received 19:07

Bucky doesn’t like bananas
Sent 19:09

Annnnnnd there it is.
Received 19:11

***

Steve didn’t hear anything from Bucky for nine days. He looked for him in the halls of the building and listened for him to come home like he could usually hear, but never saw any sign of him. The stir-fry was gone after the first day, but Steve didn’t know if one of his other neighbors stole it or if Bucky ever actually came home.

Who was he kidding, Steve thought. He shouldn’t be so worked up about all of this. They had known each other for like two months, and they hadn’t even kissed. Yeah, they had talked every day since Bucky came into Steve’s apartment for the first time, and maybe these past few weeks it was more flirting than talking, always throwing suggestive comments at the other or catching the other check them out. But it’s not like they were together or anything, just neighbors. Steve really had to stop obsessing. It didn’t matter that this was the closest he had gotten to another human being in like five years. It didn’t matter at all. Maybe he needed another dog.

Steve had finally managed to talk himself into forgetting about Bucky one night as he sat in his apartment, grading the second round of papers from his students with the radio playing softly throughout the apartment and Kebab snoring on the other end of the couch. He had just gotten to one of his students explaining that Van Gogh was a deeply troubled man who liked to cover up his depression with bright colors and vibrant designs when there was a knock on the door. He sighed, grateful for a small distraction from this solid C- essay for a moment.

He walked over to the door and heard Kebab shake her head with the dog tags clanking together. Steve checked the peephole to see Bucky standing on the other side, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He was looking around the hallway before he looked back at the door like he was questioning if he should knock again.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he opened the door. “Long time no see.”

Bucky smiled at him slightly. “Yeah, ‘m sorry about that. Didn’t mean to disappear on you.”

Steve shrugged, not wanting to show that he minded the little vanishing act. They were neighbors for crying out loud. It wasn’t like Bucky owed him an explanation or anything. “Did you want to come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky nodded and followed Steve into the apartment. “So how’ve you been?”

Steve settled back into his previous spot on the couch, picking up the dull essay again. “Pretty good,” he responded. “I have to grade these essays though, and it’s been absolutely awful.”

“Why?” Bucky asked as he plopped down to where Kebab was laying earlier.

“My class can be used to fill a gen-ed, so most of the students don’t even care about it at all. Which I understand. I know that 20th Century Art History is not everyone’s favorite subject, but they could at least put some effort into their papers. They all think I’m going to go easy on them or something because I’m the youngest professor in the department, but I’m still going to call them out for their bullshit.”

“That sounds… frustrating,” Bucky said once he found the word he was looking for.

“It’s whatever, I guess. It’s my job,” Steve shrugged, marking another grammar mistake he found. “How was your trip though? Did everything go okay?”

“It sucked,” Bucky dropped his head on the back of the couch. Steve raised a questioning eyebrow. “Everything went fine and all, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you and was annoyed that I didn’t have any way to talk to you. I thought the whole point of the 21st century was that people were connected at all times?”

Steve looked up, face going hot. “You sayin’ you missed me, Buck?” He asked with a playful edge to it.

“Guess so.”

Steve pushed his work onto the coffee table and stood up quickly. Bucky looked up with his head cocked to the side. He opened his mouth to say something before Steve dropped himself onto Bucky’s lap, knees on either side of Bucky’s hips. “Missed you, too,” Steve mumbled and tangled his fingers in the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you either.”

Bucky surged up, pushing their mouths together in a hurried kiss, afraid they would get interrupted again by something far less important than this moment right here. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s back and used the other to cup Steve’s face. Steve couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling tingling all the way down to the balls of his feet, and Bucky smiled back.

“Took you long enough,” Steve muttered into Bucky’s mouth.

“Me?” Bucky asked with fake shock. “I started pullin’ lines on you like a month ago. Was just waitin’ for you to get with it, pal.”

Steve kissed him to shut him up but mostly because he could. They spent a while exploring each other’s mouths and shoulders and necks and torsos. Their fingers danced against whatever skin they could reach, and little bit of the skin they couldn’t. It wasn’t until Bucky was sucking on a spot on Steve’s jaw that they were finally interrupted.

“Your dog is bitin’ at my ankle,” Bucky said into the skin under Steve’s ear. Steve hummed, not really listening to what Bucky was saying. “Kebab,” Bucky said with a little more emphasis, but still attached to Steve’s neck.

“What? Oh,” Steve said, turning away to get a look at the upset princess on the floor. She looked up at him and glared. “Right now? Really?” He asked her. He could have sworn she rolled her eyes at him before she trotted away, laying back near the balcony with a huff. Steve could feel Bucky chuckle underneath him.

“Upset she ain’t gettin’ as much attention?” He asked, running a hand down Steve’s back.

“She hasn’t been pet in, like, seven minutes. That’s practically a lifetime to her,” Steve responded, rubbing a hand through his own hair before getting off of Bucky. He saw Bucky pout a little, but Steve smoothed his crinkled eyebrows away with the pad of his thumb. “You should give me your number.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow with a small smile. “Should I now?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said. “Never know when I’m gonna need a dog sitter, and I already know she likes you, which is, like, half the battle.”

Bucky opened his mouth in fake offense, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh and kiss him again.

***

One of my students just asked me if I was grading the final or if it was just completion
Sent 11:47

I just got punched in the face
Received 11:59

You win
Sent 12:04

***

Steve fumbled with his key as he started to unhook Kebab’s vest a little earlier than normal. His bag fell forward, and he had to push it back over his shoulder when he realized what was wrong. “Fuck!” He called out, ripping his bag open and searching through it.

“Everything okay?”

Steve looked over to where Bucky had just stepped out of his open door. “Uh, yeah,” Steve said with a wave of his hand. “Everything’s fine. I just left my laptop back at work, and I have to finish my class syllabus for next semester for approval by midnight or my class isn’t gonna happen.”

“How much do you have done?” Bucky asked, closing his own door behind him.

“Not enough,” Steve responded with depressed chuckle. “Shit, this sucks, and Kebab is going to be too tired to go back with me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Bucky offered.

“What?”

He shrugged. “I was just going to go for a walk anyways. I can be Kebab for a little while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled. “Really.”

“Okay,” Steve said, staring at the floor for a second to gather his thoughts. “Okay, alright. Yeah. Okay.”

Bucky chuckled quietly and slipped behind Steve to finish unlocking his door for him. Steve could feel the heat from him on his back, and usually it would make him want to duck his head down to hide how red his face was. But his mind was racing trying to find figure out how much of the syllabus was left to do and if he would be able to get all the materials ready for his proposal on Monday. Which book was that Stiner article in? World War II through Photos? Did he even still own that one? Or did he get the new edition of that one? He really needed to keep inventory of his books.

“Ready?” Bucky asked.

“Huh?” Steve looked up to see Kebab already over by her bed near the balcony with her vest off. “Yeah, I just need to check her—“

“Water bowl,” Bucky interrupted. “I filled it already.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I’m ready then.”

They walked out to the street, and Steve could already feel Kebab’s missing presence. He would usually listen to the sound of her dog tags clanking together as they walked to center himself into the moment, but without the familiar noise, he started to remember the ringing in his ears he spent so much time he trying to forget. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands so used to wrapping in around Kebab’s lead.

“So how do I be Kebab?” Bucky asked as they neared the corner.

“Hm,” Steve hummed. “I don’t know really. She just keeps me focused on right now instead of… spacing out.”

Bucky threaded their fingers together as he pulled Steve down another block. “Does this help?”

Steve ducked his head. “Yeah,” he responded.

They talked quietly to each other about nothing too important as they walked down the street, nearing the campus. Bucky said something about how pretty it was in between the brick walls of the university, and Steve started to remember the wonder he felt when he first walked through the quarters. Steve led Bucky through the familiar hallways and stairwells until he finally made it to the Art History department. There weren’t that many people still here, but Steve smiled politely at some of his co-workers that were still there, ignoring their stares at the tall, dark, and dangerous man holding his hand and glaring at anyone that got too close.

“Here we go,” Steve said, unlocking his office door as Bucky traced Steve’s name plate with his free hand. “And, there we go,” Steve repeated as he saw his laptop sitting patiently for him on his desk. “Let me just find some books real quick, and we can go.” He stuffed his laptop into his bag and went over to his shelves to find the articles he was thinking about for his class. He defiantly needed the West article for the first week, and he wanted to find at least one article by Smith for the eighth week, if he could just find one. He was pretty sure he gave the Smith book to one of his graduate students last year as a congratulations on getting their masters, but he couldn’t really remember.

He finally decided on some different texts and looked up to see Bucky staring at the Howling Commandos poster next to his door.

“It’s an original,” Steve said without prompting. Bucky turned around to look at him with a mostly blank face. Steve could tell that he was at least pretending to be interested. “I dated this girl in high school, Sharon. She was Peggy Carter’s niece. Sharon and I broke up when I enlisted after high school. We wanted separate things and everything, like the story goes, but uh, Peggy and I kept in touch. She gave me that after I got my doctorate. She said she found it in her attic of all places. I guess no one told her that an original in that good of condition would be worth a small fortune these days.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes traced over the faces in front of him, over the words in bold lettering telling people to support the troops by buying bonds. Steve could tell that Bucky wasn’t with him anymore. He was somewhere far away, thinking about things long ago. Steve wanted to help. He wanted to pull Bucky back like Kebab always did for him, but he just didn’t know how. He didn’t know if he should.

“It’s crooked,” Bucky said. Damn, it was. He really was going to have to invest in a different command strip or something.

***

People are fucking stupid
Received 17:56

What happened?
Sent 17:59

Bossman managed to create and disarm a bomb all within 3 min
Received 18:07

Everyone okay???
Sent 18:08

Oh sure but he won’t be after Natasha hears about it
Received 18:21

***

Steve and Bucky were sitting across each other in an old fashioned diner, sharing a milkshake like all the cliché couples in existence.

“I’m just saying that if he can’t take the heat, maybe he should stay out of the kitchen,” Bucky said. He flinged his spoon to the side to emphasize his point, and also managed to get some chocolate ice-cream on the floor next to them.

“I think he handles the heat just fine. You just don’t like his style,” Steve pointed out in response. He slipped his hand into Bucky’s, who didn’t seem to notice and just held onto it subconsciously at this point. Steve had to duck his head to hide the small smile.

“He rewrote the entire song because he didn’t want to do a trumpet solo, and he put a trombone solo in instead. You can’t dance to a trombone solo, Stevie! What’s the point of listenin’ to swing music if you can’t dance to it? What was he thinkin’? A trombone? Really? It’s just awful. ”

“You can totally dance to a trombone. You just need the right partner is all.”

“You sayin’ you want to go dancin’, sugar? Because I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

“Uh, no,” Steve shook his head, shoving more milkshake in his mouth. “I’m a terrible dancer. Got two left feet. Always have.”

“Ah, you just need the right partner, babe,” Bucky repeated with a wink.

Steve opened his mouth to respond when an older lady came up to the table. “I don’t mean to intrude, but you don’t happen to be Captain America, do you?”

Steve looked down at the table quickly, and he felt Bucky let go of his hand. He swallowed and tried to stop the shiver going down his spine. He looked back up at the lady and gave her his old USO smile. “Yes, ma’am. Steve Rogers,” he responded, sticking his hand out.

“Oh, it is just such a pleasure to meet you, young man. What you did out there was just incredible. Thank you so much for your service,” she said, shaking Steve’s hand and then patting the back of it. She smiled big at him again before turning around to go tell her husband that she just met Captain America.

Steve looked over to Bucky. He was watching Steve closely with both of his hands tucked under the table. “It’s what they called me on the news,” Steve explained. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I guess someone said I looked like the guy they used for all those ads long time ago, and they gave the name to me instead. Got pretty popular with the public. Couldn’t leave my apartment the first few weeks after retiring without someone asking me about it.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at the table.

“Did you want to go dancing?” Steve asked hopefully from under his eyelashes. Bucky looked up at that. “Promise I won’t step on your toes too bad.”

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, knowing Steve was lying.

***

One of my students just turned in their math homework instead of mine
Sent 11:01

Well is it right?
Received 11:07

How am I supposed to know? I teach art history not math
Sent 11:10

Go give it to the math guy. Maybe he has yours
Received 11:13

Maybe he’ll grade it too
Sent 11:15

You’re going to have to grade the math one. Fair bargain and all
Received 11:21

Ugh, I hate math
Sent 11:23

Who doesn’t
Received 11:27

***

“He’s late.”

“He is not late.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s 8:24. You said we’d be here at 8. He’s late.”

“No, I said we would be going to a new bar a few blocks away around 8 if he wanted to drop by and meet you,” Steve corrected, sipping some weird IPA with raspberries in it.

“Which in boyfriend talk is basically see you at 8. Sharp because he’s supposed to be meeting your best friend who looks down upon tardiness,” Sam said, drinking some of his own beer. He tried to hide his disgust at it, but Steve could see right through him. This is why they sticked to their normal dives when they were going out. They were simple men with simple tastes in beer.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and you shouldn’t force yourself to drink that thing. Just get some water and say you’re the DD or something.”

“This is New York. Nobody drives here, and I don’t want to be rude. And what do you mean he’s not your boyfriend. You guys talk to each other nonstop over the phone, and I know you’ve at least gotten to second base with him.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “So we’ve kissed a couple times—“

“You mean a lot of times.”

“Okay, we’ve kissed a lot of times, and we happen to text occasionally. That doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend.”

“Please,” Sam said with an eye roll. “You took him to that hole in the wall Chinese place you’re obsessed with. You’ve taken what? Two people there? If that? I mean, we were friends for like four years before you invited me there. You’re serious about this guy.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate. I took you there like three weeks after you moved up here. Not my fault you lived in DC for the first three and a half years of us being friends. And I’m sure I’ve taken more people there.”

“Name them,” Sam dared.

Steve blinked. “Well… I took Sharon there, and I’m pretty sure Jack and I went after a few months of dating… and after that was…”

“Exactly, you took your high school sweetheart and the first guy you dated after getting out and no one since then,” Sam pointed out. “Just admit you like him, and that—“

“Like who?”

Steve’s face went bright red as he whipped his head around to the person who interrupted. He hit his knee on the top of the table, and Kebab barked at the commotion. “Bucky, hey!” Steve said with eyes wide and probably a little too loudly, only getting more embarrassed. “I, uh, didn’t see you come in.”

“I can tell,” Bucky said with a smirk and a playful look behind his eyes. There was a sharp whine from under the table, and Bucky looked down. “Hey, girl. They got you hidin’ under the table?” Bucky asked, patting Kebab’s head from where she was tucked under Steve’s barstool. “Natasha wanted to tag along. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Steve replied. “Uh, Bucky, Sam. Sam, Bucky.”

Sam reached out to grab Bucky’s hand, a small smile on his face but an edge behind his eyes. Steve could tell that Sam wanted to ask Bucky’s intentions, maybe threaten him a little bit, give him the old shovel talk, but he wouldn’t do that in front of Steve. Because Steve could handle his own goddamn self, thank you very much, and he will remind Sam of that whenever the opportunity arises. Bucky, however, seemed to be on his best behavior. He had a mostly real looking smile on his face, and he even let Sam think that he was intimidating him a little bit by fake flinching at the handshake. Steve almost wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t but help and feel butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

“Natasha, over here,” Bucky called out, slipping into the barstool next to Steve. He draped his arm over the back of Steve’s chair. “Hey, doll,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Steve responded, pressing a kiss into the corner of Bucky’s jaw. Sam raised an eyebrow in a knowing look, and Steve just glared back at him.

“Well, hello, boys.” Natasha sauntered up the table, two beers in her hands. She was wearing a black dress that hugged every curve, and Steve was pretty sure that Sam just fell a little bit in love. He was staring with heart eyes probably bigger than his own head. “I’m Natasha,” she introduced herself to Sam with a wink. She sat the drinks on the bar and held out her hand, and Sam just nodded in response, obviously not able to find any words or able to remember that he was supposed to actually shake her hand like a normal human being. She smiled that same smile that made Steve think she was more dangerous than friendly, that she was sizing him up more than trying to say hello. “Steve, good to see you,” she said as she slipped into the seat next to Sam.

“You, too,” Steve said with a slightly forced smile, and Bucky rubbed at one of his shoulder blades.

“So, Sam,” Natasha started. “Do you work at the school with Steve?”

Sam took a sip of his beer, trying much harder to pretend that he wasn’t disgusted now that Natasha was drinking the same thing. “Uh, no, I’m the head counselor at the VA hospital.”

“Is that where you and Steve met?”

Sam sent a quick look over to Steve, but turned back towards Natasha. “We met in the military. We had a couple rescue missions together over the years.”

“Just a couple,” Steve repeated, thinking of all the times their squads had to team up for something. It was tense at first. Both groups thought they could do it without the other, but they eventually looked forward to joint missions.

“Oh, military boys, huh?” Natasha asked, resting her head on her chin, like she was interested in the conversation, but it felt more like she was beginning an interrogation. “What branch?”

“Airforce,” Sam replied. “Steve was in the army.”

“The army?” She repeated. “James was in the army.”

“Long time ago,” Bucky mumbled. Steve put a hand on his knee.

“Well, it’s been a day or two for Steve and me, too. It’s been years since we got out, and good riddance, too. The number of people tellin’ me what to do is down to zero.”

“Cheers to that,” Natasha said, clinking their glasses together.

“Unfortunately, I still got about six department heads bossin’ me around,” Steve groaned.

Bucky chuckled. “And I’ll cheers to that.”

They talked for a while, but eventually it ended up being Sam and Natasha talking quietly to each other as Natasha continued to circle her pray. Steve and Bucky whispered to each other about their friends but then eventually they just started complaining about the beer to each other and then the food and then they talked about where they wanted to go out the next night if nothing came up between now and then.

Bucky and Steve walked home together, both warm from the inside out thanks to their slight buzz off of gross microbrewery beer with too much alcohol. Their fingers were tangled together loosely and Kebab trotted in between them, her leash around Steve’s wrist.

“Natasha had fun tonight,” Bucky said as they crossed the street towards their apartment building.

“You think so?”

Bucky nodded and held the door open for Steve and Kebab to walk through. “Looks like she took an interest to Sam.”

“Yeah, for some reason, some women think his incoherent babbling and staring is cute.”

“I thought your incoherent babbling and staring was cute,” Bucky smiled.

“Oh, shut up.” Steve shoved Bucky to the said which only caused him to laugh. “I can’t help it.”

Bucky caught Steve by the hips and pulled them flush against each other. “Do I make you nervous, Stevie?” Bucky dragged his gaze up Steve’s body slowly. It made Steve feel kind of naked, and it also made him feel like he kind of wanted to be.

“I, uh, thought that was kinda obvious,” Steve responded, tapping his fingertips against Bucky’s shoulders.

“It kinda was,” Bucky agreed with a smile. He pushed a kiss into Steve’s jaw and another onto his nose.

“Did you, uh, want to come up?” Steve looked over to the stairs where Kebab was waiting patiently. Her tail started wagging when she realized Steve was paying attention to her.

Steve got his hopes up for a second when it looked like Bucky was going to say yes, face lighting up at the idea, but something stopped him. “It’s late,” he said instead.

“It’s a Friday,” Steve reminded him.

“I don’t know, St—“

“Are you nervous about the prosthetic?” Steve asked and felt his blood run cold. Like, what the fuck, Steve? You don’t just say shit like that out loud where people can hear you! What the actual fuck? Steve wanted to run away, run up to his apartment and just apologize in a few days when he’s sure Bucky only mildly hates him, but isn’t too murderous. Actually, he should probably move. Yeah, that seemed like a better idea. He didn’t have too much stuff. He could be gone by Monday. That’s probably best. Then Steve and Bucky would never have to see each other again, and Steve could just die in embarrassment alone and in peace when he thinks about this moment in thirty or so years.

It wasn’t helping that Bucky wasn’t letting go. “How did you know?” Bucky asked with a forced sort of calm. He put some distance between them, but he still had his arms around the blonde. Steve couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. He mostly looked… quiet, like he was shutting down, waiting to be rejected almost.

“When I, uh, still went to the VA, I met a lot guys with missing limbs. They all had to overcompensate on the other side. Some tried to hide it, like, uh, wearing gloves and long sleeves when it’s, like, 80 degrees out, but I could always tell,” Steve explained. “You lean to your right when you aren’t thinking about it, and you always set that arm on top of something else like it’s too heavy to hold up. I figured you got one that was high-tech, functional but not quite the same. I’ve some that Stark designed at my last vets’ gala.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, looking down at the ground. Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s shoulders and down his biceps. “Don’t they feel different?” Bucky asked, still looking down.

“This one feels a little squishy,” Steve responded, squeezing Bucky’s right arm. “Should probably work out more,” he added with a fake serious face.

Bucky looked up at him with a certain amount of disbelief before his face split open with a wide grin. “Oh really? That’s how you want to play this?”

“I’m just statin’ the facts,” Steve smiled, hooking his arms around Bucky’s neck and getting as close as they were a minute ago.

Bucky narrowed his eyes playful before grabbing the back of Steve’s thighs and lifting him up. Steve squeaked and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist in response. “Oh my god, put me down!” Steve yelled, laughing. “I am 200 pounds of muscle! You can’t just pick me up like that!”

“Oh, but I thought I had to work out? Thought I could start by bench-pressing you for a bit,” Bucky responded, starting up the stairs. Kebab barked from her spot at his feet. She ran a few steps ahead and barked again, thinking it was some sort of game. Steve tried to turn and look at her but was too afraid he was going to be dropped.

“You’re terrible,” Steve said still laughing and holding on for dear life. They were at the second floor by now, and Steve was really starting to wonder how much Bucky could hold. “That was a terrible line.”

“You love my lines. You’re totally blushing right now”

“I blush all the time. That’s hardly a qualifier.”

“Bet I could make you blush harder,” Bucky dared with a very dangerous look in his eye.

“I don’t think I want to—“

Bucky slammed Steve back into the wall of the third floor landing and starting sucking on the spot beneath Steve’s left ear. “Yeah, okay,” Steve swallowed hard. “That works.” Steve pulled Bucky’s head back by his hair and kissed him quickly before kissing down his jaw. “Get us movin’, tiger.”

Bucky groaned and continued up the stairs.

***

I’m starving
Received 20:05

And I want cuddles
Received 20:06

You could help me solve both those problems
Received 20:06

Stevie
Received 20:07

Steve
Received 20:08

Steeeeeeeeve, aaaaaaaaaanswer meeeeeeee
Received 20:09

Come on, sugar
Received 20:10

Door’s open
Sent 20:11

***

Steve traced the star on Bucky’s bicep before kissing at his spine. They were laying together in Steve’s bed after visiting a new Thai Food place a few blocks over and some… other activities. Steve’s fingers skimmed over Bucky’s arm before drawing designs down his back. Bucky hummed and turned his head towards Steve where it was buried in his forearms.

“Did it hurt?” Steve asked quietly, touching the seam between Bucky’s flesh and metal.

“I don’t remember the first one.” Bucky kept his eyes closed, but his tone of voice sounded like he didn’t want to expand on it any further.

“First one?” Steve asked anyways because he didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

“Mhm, this is probably the second one. Tony Stark designed it, and this perky lady named Susan did the surgery. That one didn’t hurt though. They gave me the good drugs.”

Steve smiled and kissed Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ve met Tony Stark before.”

“Yeah?” Bucky cracked an eye open to look up at Steve.

“Yep,” he nodded. “He came uninvited to the Medal of Freedom ceremony. Rhodey was there as someone’s guest and Stark just tagged along with him I guess.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“He walked right up to me and started asking me why I put the plane down instead of defusing the bomb, and I just—“ Steve stopped, his fingers stilling on Bucky’s back.

Bucky noticed the slip and turned over on his back. He grabbed Steve’s hand and kissed his palm. “Did you want to tell me?” he asked, searching Steve’s face for something other than horror at the mix-up.

“I…” Steve sat up, and Bucky quickly followed. He draped himself over Steve’s back and kissed his shoulder. “It was just supposed to be a normal mission. We were supposed to go into a town and ask about some person of interest. He had some sort of weapon that could destroy an entire city according to some chatter, and my superiors were worried that they would try to bring it to the States. We asked around for a while, but we weren’t having any luck. So we decided to go back to base and maybe come back the next day.”

Steve swallowed. “We were surrounded just out of nowhere,” he continued. “My men were dropping left and right, and I did everything I could to just keep them alive. We were under such heavy fire that it was impossible to see anything that was happening. I’ve analyzed it over and over in my mind, and I don’t think we took down any of them. There’s no way we could have—“

Steve stopped. Bucky grabbed at one of his hands, and it was only then that Steve had started scratching at his wrists like he used to do in the hospital. “You don’t have to keep going,” Bucky said into his skin.

Steve nodded, but opened his mouth to keep going anyways. “I recognized our person of interest getting on a plane a block away. My men were safe by then, but none of them had enough strength to go with me. It was easy to get on. Once I was on, the pilot and the guy were easy to get rid of, too. It was all so easy. You would think I would have known something was going to happen…Then it all started going wrong, I guess. There was this bomb on the plane, and I had no idea how to make it stop.

“I put the plane down into the arctic… It was cold. That was my last thought. They say your life is supposed to, like, flash before your eyes, but it didn’t. I didn’t think about my mother, or my friends, or anything that was waiting for me back at home. I just thought that it was so cold.”

“Did you get out?” Bucky asked quietly, rubbing his hands up and down Steve’s arms.

“No, not even a little bit,” Steve said with a wet laugh. He rubbed at one of his eyes. “I woke up in the hospital seven weeks later with more medals than I knew existed and Sam by my side. He’s the one to convince me to go back to school. I started on my thesis two weeks later because I was going stir-crazy in there. That’s actually where Kebab got her name, you know. It was my first meal out of the hospital, and it was just so good. The first meal I had that wasn’t army rations or hospital food. I never thought I was going to be able to get out of there, so when I did, everything was just different after that. ”

Bucky was quiet for a while. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I wish I was, too.”

“I fell,” Bucky said, tangling their fingers together. Steve looked back to see Bucky staring at the bed spread. Bucky looked up to meet his eyes. “Off a train into the mountains. That’s how I lost my arm. I fell. It was cold there, too.”

***

Do you want to go to dinner tonight?
Sent 12:06

I’d rather stay in
Received 12:18

Yours or mine?
Sent 12:34

Where is Kebab going to be?
Received 12:47

Mine probably
Sent 12:52

Mine then
Received 12:55

You’re only saying that because you don’t like her to watch us make out
Sent 13:04

So I like a little privacy when I’m with my fella. Sue me.
Received 13:05

***

“Come on, girl,” Steve said. He tugged on Kebab’s leash as he lifted his bag of groceries off the counter. “Have a good day,” he called to the cashier who was definitely not having a good day. She popped her bubblegum at him in response.

They walked out onto the street, and Steve immediately felt the need to scratch his neck. “Stay close, girl,” he muttered, pulling her closer to him. He surveyed his surroundings. There was a middle aged woman with her son in front of him. They were fighting about something. Two teenage girls passing him on the left, both with their cell phones in their hand. There was a businessman using a Bluetooth coming towards him arguing about the price of some tax. There were two men in black across the street. They weren’t saying anything. Steve went the opposite way. The men followed.

Steve weaved his way through the people in front of him, hoping to lose his tail. Two blocks later, and they were still following. Steve turned into an alley he knew connected to a different one a ways down. He heard footsteps behind him and picked up speed, throwing his groceries onto the ground and picking up Kebab. She huffed but otherwise stayed quiet.

There was a popping sound from down the alley, and Steve felt a burning sensation in his thigh. He couldn’t remember if he ever got out of the alley.

***

Are you home?
Received 19:34

Your lights aren’t on and I can’t hear your radio playing
Received 19:40

You said you were going to be home by 6
Received 19:56

Where are you?
Received 20:22

Steve?
Received 20:44

***

Steve woke up with his hands shackled above his head and his feet barely touching the ground. His mouth tasted like dirt and blood and for some reason he couldn’t tell if it was his or not. He looked around to figure out where he was, but his vision was still spotty and blurred out around the edges. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. Opening his eyes again, he could tell that he couldn’t tell anything.

It was dark and musty, and there was a damp smell in the air. And it was fucking cold. Not freezing cold. It wasn’t the type of cold that you notice as your breath fogged up and your car windows were iced over. No, it was the type of cold that built up in your bones until you couldn’t think of anything besides how cold you were and how all you wanted was to be warm and safe and comfortable. It was the type of cold that reminded Steve of the hospital, and how all he wanted to do was get out.

There wasn’t much about the room other than that. Other than the fact that it was cold and damp and dark. There were cement floors. Cement walls. One door that was made out of some rusted sort of metal. There weren’t any windows, and the little amount of light in the room was coming from a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a string.

Steve guessed he was in some sort of basement, probably in a corner unit if he could guess. He sighed, banging his head backwards. His spine was starting to ache from being stretched out too long, and he had a pounding headache from whatever they tranqed him with earlier. The shackles were on tight enough for Steve to feel his pulse throughout his wrists, and he knew that if he tried to get out of them right now, it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t even know who took him yet. Best wait it out a bit, he decided. See who he was dealing with.

He got through about half of the Supertramp discography by the time somebody came slamming the door open with too much force, probably on purpose. Trying to be dramatic, he noted. That could work in his favor, he thought.

“Mr. Rogers, glad to see you are awake,” a man said with a slight eastern European as he sauntered into the room. He was short, not really short, but pretty short, and he was thin, too. The white lab coat that he was wearing seemed to hang off his shoulders, and his cheeks were just a little too hollow to make his clunky glasses fit his face. He was followed in by a big guy with a stun gun and a helmet covering his head.

“Where’s my dog?” Steve asked. His voice was scratchy, and he had to force himself to swallow.

“I assure you that your dog is in good keepings and will stay there as long as you cooperate,” the man explained with a smile that was not the least bit friendly. “Now allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Kiernof. I work for an organization known as HYDRA and—“

“I know what HYDRA is,” Steve interrupted.

“Right, of course, Mr. Rogers.” The man smiled again. “Then you might be aware of our situation. You see, we seemed to have lost one of our most valuable assets, and we really should get him back. Or at the very least, dispose of him properly.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout.”

“I’m sure you do, Mr. Rogers.” The man continued to smile. The one behind him shifted his weight to his other foot.

“I’m a Art History professor. I have nothing to do with HYDRA or anything like that,” Steve tried again.

“Now, Mr. Rogers, I know you are a smart man, so please stop playing dumb. It’s a waste of both of our time. I will release you if you just tell me what you know about the Winter Soldier.”

“I got no business with soldiers anymore, mister,” Steve scoffed. “Just like I don’t have business with you.”

“We both know that is not true, Mr. Rogers.” Steve wanted to scream at him to stop saying his name like that, like they were in a business meeting and they both were trying to be syrupy polite

“Then tell me what we do know if you’re so damn certain,” Steve spat out.

The smile of the doctor’s face slipped, but he pulled it back quickly. “Well,” the doctor said, pulling a file from behind his back. He pulled out a picture of Winter Soldier standing next to Iron Man and the Hulk. He had goggles and a mask on. It was impossible to tell who he was. “Do you know who these people are, Mr. Rogers?”

“I read the paper. I know who the Avengers are.”

“Of course you do, Mr. Rogers. Than you are aware that the Winter Soldier used to be a part of HYDRA before the American government found a way to get him over to their side and work with the Avengers for his penance, yes?” Steve nodded. “Then you are also aware that your new next door neighbor happens to be the Winter Soldier, yes?”

Steve paled. He swallowed. “This is New York. I hardly know my neighbors,” he tried.

“You were seen with him on multiple occasions outside of your apartment building, Mr. Rogers. And let’s not discuss what you were seen doing inside said apartments.”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Steve asked.

“You were seen with this organization's most prized possessions. Of course we have been watching you, Mr. Rogers. We have since he moved in. Now, unless you want you or your dog to get hurt, I suggest you tell me everything you know about the Winter Soldier.”

Steve glared at the man. He was no longer smiling. “You touch my dog, and I’ll burn you to the ground,” Steve growled.

The doctor was about to say something, but Steve kicked his legs out and twisted one around the man’s neck. He squeezed the man’s throat with his thighs, and the man clawed at his knees while crying out for the guard.

The guard reacted with a sluggish sort of speed, and Steve was starting to wonder if he was really going to have to do all the work himself. The guard finally raised his stun gun and shot in Steve’s direction, but ended up hitting the doctor instead, knocking him out cold. “Thank god. I thought he would never shut up,” Steve mumbled.

He walked his feet backwards on the wall until he could grip the base of the shackles on the wall. He jumped back down, putting all his weight on the wall support, and tugging the puny thing out of the wall, landing on his feet. The guard just watched. Steve rolled his eyes.

He rushed the guard quickly, impressed by how incompetent he seemed as an employee. The guard got a few shots off in Steve’s general direction, but it was easy to tell that he wasn’t really used to moving targets just yet. It was honestly boring for Steve to wrap the shackles around the guy’s neck and choke him until he passed out. He would hope that they at least would have given him a seasoned kidnapper. But he guessed that even though they were spying on him, they never really did their research or else they would have found out that he escaped worse situations than this.

“Now, who’s got the keys?” Steve asked himself as he started to search the doctor’s pockets. He found a couple of pens and a wallet with a name that was definitely not what they guy had said his name was. No keys though. He then searched the guard and found nothing of use there either.

Steve looked towards the door and shrugged. He figured if they were all like these guys, he should be okay with the shackles still on. He slipped out the door as quietly after grabbing the stun gun and tried to figure out which way he was supposed to go. Which way was Kebab? He whistled quietly and waited for her signature bark, but didn’t hear anything. He tried again. Nothing. He tried a third time and this time heard a single bark from somewhere to his left. Left it was.

He stayed low and close to the walls as he went down the corridor. There was only one door before a dead end, so he figured that was where she had to be. He slipped into the room quietly to see three men surrounding Kebab, one with a muzzle in his hand and the two other with batons. Kebab growled at them with her hackles raised as she shuffled backwards towards the wall. It took her a minute, but she finally noticed him and started barking hysterically. The men turned around.

“I wouldn’t mess with her if I were you.”

The Avengers found him two hours later surrounded by a sea of knocked out HYDRA agents and throwing popcorn to Kebab that they found in one guy’s desk. “Took you long enough,” he said as he saw Natasha enter the room with her gun raised. “It’s such a snooze fest here. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

***

“You’re an Art History professor?” Tony Stark asked him with raised eyebrows and squinted eyes. They were all sitting around some couches in Stark Tower. The nurse had already checked Steve out and said that besides for some bruising and aches in the morning, he should be fine. Steve wanted to turn to Bucky and tell him he should see the other guys, but he had been avoiding him ever since they came to get him on the base. He sat away from everyone on the jet and he’s sitting across the room now. It made Steve want to stick out his bottom lip and pout a little bit until he got what he wanted, but he wasn’t a toddler, he reminded himself. And he couldn’t make Bucky hang out with him if he didn’t want to.

“Yes,” Steve repeated for the third time.

“But, like, just a professor? Not like a MMA fighter by night or something? Not even a stripper?”

Steve squinted his eyes. “You know we’ve met before, right?”

“Oh please, you slice of good, ol’ juicy American pie,” Tony replied with a wave of the hand. “I meet so many people in a day, I’m surprised I remember myself.”

“I was in the Army before becoming a professor,” Steve explained. “Was pretty good at it. Those guys were a cakewalk compared to some guys I met in the desert.”

“Hey, wait a second,” Clint said, narrowing his eyes. “Aren’t you that Captain America guy? The one who saved the city?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Steve said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Well, look at that. We got ourselves our first family friendly celebrity in the bunch,” Clint smiled. Steve wanted to make a joke at that about how he wasn’t family friendly in the slightest, but Bucky was still staring at the floor across the room. And Kebab was staring longingly towards him.

“Hey,” Tony complained. “I’m family friendly.”

“If that family consists of six hookers, two drug dealers, and an exorcist,” Natasha responded without looking up from her phone.

“Rude,” Tony muttered.

“I should be getting home,” Steve said, standing up. Kebab stood up by his feet also ready to go home and sleep.

“What? You’re not leaving,” Clint exclaimed.

“I have to go back to my apartment. I have work in the morning,” Steve said, cocking his head to the side. He realized that these guys didn’t have a day jobs, but come on, he couldn’t stay up too late on a school night.

“You shouldn’t go back. They were tailing you from there. You should move,” Natasha explained shortly.

“I can’t just move. I get that you guys are the Avengers, but that’s not really how it works for normal people.”

“Well, I’m your landlord, and I’m evicting you,” Clint said lazily. Steve for a brief moment was stuck between jumping out the window or murder as his two solutions.

“You can stay here until you find another place if you want,” Tony offered. “I’ve got plenty of room. You can even stay on the floor I designed for your Comrade boyfriend that he doesn’t use at all.”

Steve looked over to Bucky who was still staring at the floor with some sort of intensity. Honestly, that sounded the best to him. Cuddling up with a superspy of a boyfriend would certainly make him feel safe, but Bucky hadn’t met his eye all night. And Steve was starting to wonder if he was even going to have a superspy boyfriend after this.

“We’ll leave you guys to talk about it,” Natasha said as she gracefully got up from her spot on the couch. She pulled on Clint's arm and then Tony’s ear to get them to leave Steve and Bucky in the room alone together.

Steve looked at Bucky for a while, but the other still didn’t look up from the floor. “You haven’t said anything to me all night,” Steve stated.

Bucky flinched, but still didn’t say anything. Steve just wanted him to say something. “I should go,” Steve decided. “There’s no point in me staying here if you’re not going to talk to me.”

Steve clipped a lead onto Kebab and started heading towards the door. “It’s my fault,” Bucky said, still looking at the floor.

“What?” Steve asked going to sit on the table in front of Bucky.

“I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you. I knew it would be dangerous. But you were just so nice, and you brought those damn cookies and those fucking peas. And it had been so long since anyone was nice to me like you were, and I just thought that maybe if I didn’t tell you who I was, it would be okay. That you’d be safe,” Bucky twisted his hands together, and Steve reached out to keep him from doing anything too bad. Bucky looked up at the touch. His eyes were glossy. “Why’d you have to be so nice? Now they’re gonna hunt you to get to me, and what if I can’t protect you? What if somethin’ happened to you? It would ruin me, Steve. I love you so goddamn much, and the thought of those bastards putting their filthy fucking hands on you makes me sick.”

“I’m okay, Buck,” Steve said, catching his eye. “I’m right here. I’m okay.” He lifted Bucky’s flesh hand to rest over his heart, so Bucky could feel that he was still alive and with him. “They were idiots anyways. Took longer to find the key to the shackles than to take those guys out.”

“You shouldn’t have been in shackles in the first place!” Bucky stood up and paced away from Steve. “I was selfish to try and keep you. I was selfish, and now you’re in danger.”

“I always knew who you were, Buck. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

Bucky spun around on his heels, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I knew the entire time that you were the Winter Soldier.”

“How?”

“I wrote my thesis, which was over 200 pages mind you, on propaganda in World War II,” Steve said like he was stating the obvious. “I have been practically studying your face for so many years, or course I would know who you were. I mean, I have a poster of your old unit hanging in my office. Not like it was subtle moving into Hawkeye’s building with the help of the Black Widow. Oh, and you know having a high-tech arm designed by Tony Stark himself. I had an idea before we even started hanging out, and then you dropped that pickup line from the forties and I just put two and two together.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bucky asked.

“Because you didn’t,” Steve responded with a shrug. “I figured if you wanted me to know, you would tell me. I was willing to wait until you were ready.”

“But why?”

“Because I love you, and I just wanted you to be happy. And you seemed happy not being the Winter Soldier around me.”

“I was happy,” Bucky muttered.

“Who says you have to stop?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said sarcastically, running one hand through his hair. “Maybe the fact that HYDRA just kidnapped my boyfriend and was going to torture him but obviously didn’t do enough research about him beforehand. But, I’m sure they’ll be better at it next time.”

“If you’re so certain there will be a next time, wouldn’t the safest place be with you?”

“What are you talkin’ bout?”

“Move in with me, Bucky,” Steve suggested, going to stand in front of Bucky. “I don’t care where. Here or in the building or on the goddamn moon. I don’t like being without you, and we could really cut down on rent if we just moved in together already.”

Bucky seemed to think about it for a second. “Alright,” he said after a second. “Yeah, alright.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied with his only smile. “If only to keep your ass in check.”

“You can check my ass anytime you want,” Steve said, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky snorted and pulled Steve closer. “That was terrible, sugar.”

“It totally worked though.”

Bucky nodded as he leaned in.

***

We’re out of milk
Received 11:04

You should probably go get some then
Sent 11:10

: (
Received 11:14

Will you pick some up after work?
Received 11:15

If you promise to make dinner
Sent 11:16

Deal
Received 11:19

Love you
Received 11:20

Love you too
Sent 11:21