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Then
Bucky won’t stop tapping his foot as he does his hair.
“Hey Fred Astaire, can you you gimme a break? I’m tryin’ to shave.”
“Aw yeah, probably takes all your concentration to get that one stray whisker,” he says with a toothy grin as he pulls a comb through his hair, sticky with pomade.
“Mouthy shit,” Steve says, knocking his elbow into Bucky’s side.
Bucky stumbles, dropping his comb. Instead of picking it up, he looks at Steve with a frown. “Look at that, look what you made me do.”
“You’ve spent twenty minutes workin’ on that mop. If it’s not done now, it’ll never be.”
“You can’t rush perfection,” Bucky says.
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you said on your last date?” he asks.
Bucky looks like he’s about to shove him, then eyes the razor in Steve’s hand and just rolls his eyes. “You’re fulla shit,” he says.
“Probably because you won’t leave the bathroom,” Steve says, grinning.
Bucky turns around so he’s leaning on the wall. “Now I’m never leavin’,” he says.
“What about your date?” Bucky shoots back.
Bucky shrugs. “Provin’ you wrong is more important.”
Steve puts down his razor and smiles. “You don’t wanna go, do you?” he accuses.
Bucky grins. “You wanna take me out instead?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.
Steve’s smile falls. “Wish I could,” he says.
“You got a shift tonight at the grocery?” Bucky asks, even though they both know the answer is yes.
“Well,” Bucky says, leaning down and picking up his comb. “Guess I gotta finish up,” he says.
“Sure, Buck. See you later.”
Steve leaves the room with a frown.
Now
Bucky won’t stop tapping his foot as he does his hair.
It’s kind of funny, how things change and how they don’t. Bucky’s hair is long now, and it takes him forever to brush through it, even though Steve’s not sure that it does much good — it always seems a little messy to him.
“Who’re you trying to impress, Fred Astaire?” Steve asks, sidling up to Bucky at the sink.
Bucky levels him with an unimpressed look. “God’s always watchin’, Steve.”
“Thanks, Sister Roberta.”
“Sister Roberta taught math. You’re thinkin’ of Sister Francine.”
Steve laughs. “Thanks for reminding me,” he says.
“Gonna shave?” Bucky asks.
Steve touches his beard. “Nah,” he says.
Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Then why’re you in here?” he asks.
“Just came to bother you,” Steve says.
Sighing, Bucky goes back to his hair. “Pain in my ass, just like the old days.”
“Excuse me, you were the one who bothered me in the bathroom.”
“It was a mutual feelin’, I’m sure,” Bucky says. He swipes the comb through his hair again, then sets it down. “How’d I look?” he asks.
“Like a million bucks,” Steve says, a corny joke that never gets old.
“You think the swell who’s takin’ me out to dinner’ll like it?” Bucky asks.
“Hmm,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Not sure. It’s a little limp today. Think you could give it some volume?” he asks, using his free hand to wrap a strand around his finger.
Bucky slaps Steve’s hand away. “C’mon, smart guy. I’m hungry.”
“You’re the one who spent twenty minutes on his hair.”
“Yeah, well, it takes effort to look this good. You could try it sometime.”
“If I don’t have to shave, I don’t have anything to do.”
He pauses, and the song playing in the background turns to something slow and lovely.
“Hey Buck?” Steve asks.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sure the swell will love it,” he says.
Bucky grins, leans over, and kisses Steve on the lips.
“Yeah, I’m sure he will.”