Work Text:
“What the hell is an iPhone?”
Bucky growls at the ‘phone’ in his palm, not finding where the whole phone aspect comes in what with the jumble of applications he can’t navigate. Natalia bought it for him so they could ‘text’ and gossip about Steve and ‘snapchat’, but Bucky’s not really grasping the concept.
Steve reaches over and grabs it out of Bucky’s hands. “Nat showed me how to get to the contacts part. Here,” he holds out the phone to Bucky, pointing at the little phone avatar and explaining, “You click on that to call people, and the little bubble is to text people.”
It’s still confusing as hell. Why does Bucky need an app that adds numbers together with the sole objective being to add up to 2048? Why does he need to take pictures of his face that’ll disappear in a matter of seconds with crude commentary? It all seems rather pointless. He finally understands old people.
He shivers at the thought. “Steve?” he asks, looking over at his friend.
“Yeah?” he replies.
“Are we old men?” He fidgets in his seat, knowing full well that while they’re still in their twenties physically, Bucky’s adjusted to the forties, and not the twenty first century. They are old men, older than Tony and older than freaking Coulson.
Steve laughs. “Well, we do qualify for AARP, so yeah, Buck. We’re old men.”
“Then I want my damned old guy privileges,” Bucky grumbles, reclining against the bench. Back in his day, children used to play Frisbee and socialize. Now they’re at the park and playing on their Nintendo-things and texting on their ‘phones’ and God knows what else.
He looks over to Steve, the only relic besides himself in this foreign future and smiles before reaching for his hand.
“People fucking suck, Stevie,” he says, squeezing his fingers. “The future fucking sucks, but you know what?”
Steve raises a brow. “What?”
Bucky ducks forward and kisses his lips, right there in the open. Because if there’s one thing this future has that his present didn’t, it’s his ability to kiss the one person he wanted to kiss in public without worrying about incarceration or worse.
He pulls away, grinning at Steve’s blush. “I think I kinda like it.”