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A couple of months ago they all came back from a weird blip in time, then there was this massive fight with the Avengers, and now, finally, life's gone back to a semi-normal state.
Bucky and Kate's back at work, all his regulars are coming in saying how much they've missed him and Kate, how they missed each other. To him, it's all the same—getting dusted and coming back—no time really passed but for these folks, it's been five goddamn years?!
So, Auntie Ramona still drinks chai tea, Gabby still eats lemon poppy muffins, and Reggie comes in to chill over the corner with his laptop. (Bucky thinks he writes fanfiction, in fact, he's sure of it. What else does 'Steve Rogers/Tony Stark' mean, huh? Lord rest their souls. Kate says Bucky's gotta learn to mind his own business.)
It's all pretty standard except that a couple of weeks ago this new guy started coming into the shop.
Kate's been teasing Bucky about it incessantly, which is fair since Bucky can't keep his eyes to himself whenever the new patron walks in. He also apparently can't keep a spew of flirtations spilling from his mouth the moment he opens it to take the guy's order.
Kate says he uses a different voice when speaking to the guy. Bucky doesn't know what the hell she's talking about.
Now here's the thing about this fella: It's always jeans, black leather jacket, a ballcap, and aviators, all in varying colors.
Bucky reckons maybe he's got that thing where he can't look into bright light or anything, hence the shades and cap even in the building. Kate says, nah, he's gotta be famous; only famous people do that.
But Bucky can't quite place him. He's seen the guy with stubble, full beard, clean-shaven, and now with this crafted goatee, deliciousness on his face. And still, he can't place the dude.
But he is damn fine, okay? He is goddamn fine. His smile, his cheekbones, his ass. Lord. And he's pretty funny, in that sarcastic off-handed kind of way and his taste in music is impeccable. His voice is real nice too; Bucky wants him to read filthy novels out loud.
"Covert Guy's here," Kate mumbles under her breath when the door chimes. She pokes Bucky in the ribs with a spoon.
"His name's Sam." He knows because he's been writing rhyming variations of it on his cup over the last couple of weeks. 'Damn!' with a heart-eyes smiley face was the latest. Sam just about keeled over from laughter, thanked Bucky and muttered a smiled-filled 'jesus christ' on his way out the door.
It's been a ride.
Kate just rolls her eyes and carries on drawing in her little purple sketchbook. She lets him serve Sam because then she's got ammo to tease him with.
Today's a quiet, slow one, and the guy seems a little less on edge than when it's crowded. He's not looking over his shoulder as much, which only fuels Bucky's suspicion that maybe Kate's right and he is Famous.
So, he sidles up to the counter and leans on it with his forearms. He's got that slanted, stupid hot grin going.
Bucky smiles like a weakling; subconsciously tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Kate snorts.
"My favorite customer! See how the day just brightened up, Katie?" Bucky says.
Kate says, "Uh-huh."
He starts getting the coffee machine ready, "Same as always?" he says because he knows how much customers love it when you remember their order.
He's right too. Sam's face breaks into a smile. And honestly, he wasn't lying about the day brightening up when Sam got there. That smile makes Bucky all kinds of giddy inside. He's still not really sure if the guy's flirting or if that's just natural charm. Flirting seems too good to be true.
"Damn straight," says Sam.
"What a pity," Bucky says with a little laugh and a wink while he gets the coffee ready—blonde slow roast topped with cream—and Kate sounds like she's choking. Sam looks amused as all hell like he does every time he comes in here. Looks totally flattered and a little coy, but also like he's used to this kind of attention.
Sam shakes his head and laughs, ducks his chin down a little, "Yeah, smart mouth," he says.
"Missed you Monday and yesterday, where'd you disappear off too?"
Sam sighs, "Work. Uhm—" he waves his hand to the door, "—work thing. Off-site?" Bucky wonders why that sounds like a question rather than an answer.
Bucky's pouring the coffee and tops it up with a little extra cream the way Sam likes, no additional charge. Bucky's nice like that.
"Can't believe you been coming to my shop all this time, letting me serve you, and haven't told me what you do! Fess up, Hotshot."
"Smooth," Kate grumbles, amused. Bucky knows she actually wants Sam to answer so she can rub it in his face how right she was about him being a celeb.
"Oh, a busy guy like you ain't wanna hear about my boring job."
The coffee's piping hot when he sets it down in front of Sam. Sam takes a deep whiff of it before capping the lid on it.
Bucky loves watching his face melt into absolute bliss, small little smile, eyes closed, and he makes this quiet "hmm" sound. It's just… endearing as fuck.
Bucky slaps a premade mozzarella and pepper dew on rye into the flat press and leans back against the counter to grin at Sam.
He taps a finger to his chin, "T.V presenter? That it? I mean, you got the look for it. Real polished and shit."
"Ha!" Sam says, surprised but obviously flattered, and looks down, "That definitely ain't it."
The light's not good enough for Bucky to see behind the aviator shades, but he bets Sam's eyes are real warm like glowing golden sunlight when he smiles; when he teases.
"Okay, but I'm close?"
The sandwich press makes its bleep sound to signal that the content is ready to go. Bucky scoops it up with the spatula, slips it onto the brown paper wrapping and hands it over with a smile.
Sam, of course, doesn't answer because he is a mystery deluxe. Instead, he gives Bucky a smile that could honest to god level a city and a cute two-fingered salute, and then he's off again.
He'll get it right one day, Bucky thinks as he watches that fantastic ass sashay out the door, the bell even gives it a little serenade as he exits.
Kate walks past him, smacks him upside the head with her sketchbook. "You're such a goddamn fuckboy. Have you ever wondered why you're single? Because that's why."
"I am not—"
"Tsk. That's what all the fuckboys say." She makes a sympathetic face at him as if he's riddled with disease and there ain't no cure. "That little wink-laugh combo," she winks repeatedly, straight up mocks Bucky with her voice all deep, "blah blah baby, aha."
"You're an awful friend," he says, starts rearranging the muffins. "Fuckin' awful."
"Be happy you even got a friend, fuckboy," she says and skids out of the way just as he whips a washcloth at her. Which he guesses is utter fuckboy behavior.
Kate cackles and flips him off before she goes to check on the sit-in customers.
Sam comes back the next day too; it's not always that he stops by two days in a row. The fact that Bucky knows from the way the bell sounds that it's Sam who just arrived, kind of says a whole lot about this situation.
Bucky's standing with his back to the shop, busy icing a fresh batch of cupcakes from the kitchen when Sam comes to lean on the counter. Now maybe Bucky is dumb and hopeful, but he feels like Sam is checking him out.
Sam says, "Hm, shit that looks good!" and Bucky blushes hot up to the tips of his ears even though Sam might totally be talking about the cupcakes.
Bucky turns cleans up and grins back so instantly it hurts. This time he leans on the counter too, right next to Sam.
"Yeah?"
Sam seems a little taken aback, probably by the suggestive tone in Bucky's voice, or the sheer proximity.
"Oh, definitely."
"Wanna try it out?"
"Hm," Sam says and smiles. Up close, Bucky can almost see through the shades, almost , and the guy looks even more familiar than ever before. "Too early for something that sweet though,"
Bucky's not sure if they're even talking about cupcakes anymore or just throwing innuendoes around. But he's starting to think maybe the guy's flirting back. He clearly doesn't mind Bucky's flirting at all.
"You could always have it as a midnight snack, mister, ain't gotta have it right now. They'll be here all day."
Sam clamps down on his bottom lip, bites so hard it changes color. He stares and stares, and Bucky sees his lashes flick about behind the gold-tinted shades.
His voice is cracky, low, sweet when he finally answers, "Got a real smart mouth, huh. Real fuckin' smart."
Bucky wants to say, let me show you just how smart, but of course, he doesn't. Instead, he does his job. He says, "Black coffee, dash of cream coming up."
Kate's a real fucking pal because she puts UB40 on, kicks up the volume just a little for lunch hour.
Sam starts swaying, smiles, and says, "Oh god. Now this shit, this brings back memories." Kate, swaying too, reaches over for a high five.
"What kinda memories, Covert Guy? "She asks, looking at Bucky. Like he said: a real pal.
Sam ain't an idiot; he's onto them. He also so badly wants to keep his identity a secret that Bucky thinks if he says even one thing out of place, it'll blow his cover, which makes this all the more thrilling. Who the fuck is Sam… Holy shit, Bucky stares at him, they don't even know his last name!
"Aw, you know. Old friends, younger days." It's pretty generic and doesn't give much away.
Kate hums. Bucky's just staring at Sam, not to figure out who he is. Just staring at him because he's nice to look at, loves all the same songs Bucky does, he is sweet and funny, and Bucky might just be falling a little here.
By the time Bucky slides Sam's coffee over the counter, an emergency news broadcast interrupts their music and coffee session.
Kate switches from the stereo to the t.v just as a reporter announces a slew of weaponized drone attacks on the White House over in D.C.
"Authorities have called for intervention by the Avengers, stating that the situation requires additional reinforcements."
Sam frantically starts patting the pockets of his jeans—the way you do when your phone rings in class—until he withdraws first one vibrating phone then another. He looks around, then at Bucky and ends both calls.
The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"
And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."
Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"
"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."
"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"
"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not. Dare him to come in here someday."
Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door, hand in front of his mouth. Bucky thinks Sam probably shares the sentiment about this Captain America douche.
They watch yet another shit show go down in D.C on the shop's flatscreen, a little while later the man himself shows up, swoops in with those stupid metal wings like the peacock motherfucker he is and steals the show. Literally. He yeets the drones right out the sky with that big snack platter, a couple of dozen at a time.
Bucky's thankful for the camera angle just as Cap hovers in front of the screen, back facing them. That ass is fine, okay? Sue him.
Maybe he should request some Captain America slash fanfiction from Reggie.
And then he ignores the rest of the shit happening, gets back to work as more people file in for lunch to watch the fucking Avengers avenge, and realizes that Sam hadn't even waited for his grilled cheese.
The next couple of days pass with no sign of Sam. Bucky hates to admit it, but he feels a little bummed out. He's grown to like their little chats; taking his time with Sam's order so they can chat a bit longer; the way Sam will comment on the music playing through the shop speakers.
("Tin can garbage," he'll say while Bucky and Kate are yapping along enthusiastically to whatever newer stuff is on right then.
But then other days he'll come in and something like Otis Redding's on—because it's sort of stormy outside and sitting in a coffee shop with steamy windows, watching the rain, listening to slow classics is basically an aesthetic orgasm—and he'll go, "Yass! See this the shit I'm talking about!" and lean over the counter to high-five one of them.
Kate pretends not to get a total kick out of it, but Sam is hands down their favorite customer in all of New York.)
So it's safe to say the general mood drops by about 50% when Hotshot doesn't show up.
He's starting to worry after three days; Sam still hasn't come by for his usual black coffee made with total adoration and mozzarella pepper dew on rye. Bucky stupidly watches the door all fucking day with no avail.
Kate tells him to quit his fuckboy behavior.
Friday night, Kate and Clint come over with a stack of Tai takeout and a six-pack of beer.
Clint's got new bandaids stuck all over his face, arms and knuckles and two fingers are taped together. Bucky doesn't even want to know.
Kate's on the phone with that America girl from the gym.
"What's the point of movie night if you're just gonna try hooking up the whole time?" he says, chewing, eyes on the screen.
"Have you seen her thighs? Have you heard her voice? Do I need to remind you?"
Bucky and Clint both give a painstaking groan when Kate very pointedly opens America's Instagram. She scrolls down to that picture and shoves it in their faces while slurping up some noodles. It's the one where America's squatting in tiny blue shorts.
"Yes. Yes. We get it, christ." Clint drones and pushes the phone away, "Please continue."
They get halfway through the movie; Bucky's just starting to doze off when the lights go out, and everything goes quiet.
There's an explosion in the distance, people start screaming in the street below, and sirens ring through the air.
Mere seconds after that an emergency alert comes through to their phones advising everyone to stay indoors; the Avengers are on the scene already.
"Ug, those guys," Bucky says. They're ridiculous.
"... Yeah." Kate says, sounding a little weird.
Bucky puts his phone torch on.
"Hey, where'd Clint go?!"
The next day the streets are cleared, power restored and most of the chaos contained to news channels running footage from the night before. The news anchor's saying it was a group of re-establishing HYDRA goons using weaponized drones to try and blow up the Avengers Tower just a few blocks up, who was also responsible for the terror acts in D.C.
Sand and glass and debris splatter in all directions and while the tower still stands, it looks worse for wear. That lady with the red magic hands was there too, supernova-crushing the drones.
Kate likes the way she moves her hands.
"Little dramatic, don't you think?" Bucky says, cleaning the coffee machine's steam tips while Kate refills the jugs with milk.
"Pssh. She's hot," Kate says, then to the screen, "Be dramatic, baby." She scoffs at Bucky.
"They're all show-offs. All of them. That huge green thing wrecks more havoc than actual bad guys."
"It's his niche." Kate shrugs, "Just like Cap's got the shield, Hulk, uhm... smashes."
"Oh, don't get me started on that Cap guy. You see him fly around all smug like that? Then he avoids the press like he ain't dying to gloat about his antics."
On the t.v, the news plays recaps of the fight the night before.
Aunty Ramona comes in just then. She looks a little shaken up, so Kate starts getting her order ready. The aunty says, "Told y'all them aliens' gon come back one day."
"They weren't aliens, Aunty. Just dumbasses with guns." Kate says as she pours the tea and hands it over.
Aunty Ramona blinks, "What's that you said 'bout the police?"
Bucky says, "Damn."
Reggie comes in too, sits in the back and Bucky takes him a large cappuccino. He flirts a little because Reggie is crazy cute, got dimples for days. (This one time, he got Reggie's number wrangled out of him and texted him later that night. He asked for a pic, and Reggie very kindly informed him that he is straight.)
Naturally, Bucky apologized profusely and never tried that shit again but—even though he wholeheartedly believes in straight but shit happens—he might be starting to see what Kate means by fuckboy behavior.
Gabby looks like she hasn't slept all night, probably didn't with all that went on, so she orders a double espresso and drinks it with shaky fingers and wide eyes.
All the regulars except the latest turn up, Bucky's proper worried, more than miserable and moping inwardly, so Kate doesn't zap him.
But then, like the first rays of sun after days of rain, Sam shows up.
Only, he looks like a bag of bricks hit him right in the face. Dear god. He's got a shiner just below his left eye, that sweet mouth's busted, and scattered little cuts mar the rest of his face and exposed skin of his neck. Christ.
Also, he's not wearing shades today, or his cap and Bucky, despite the array of injuries, gets to appreciate his whole face for the first time. Unguarded and uncovered. He's a sight, he really is, and it's doing something weird to the inside of Bucky's chest. Makes it feel like liquid where it definitely should not be.
In the far distance of his mind, a faint bell of recognition rings. The haircut, the face shape, the beard. But it's so far away still that Bucky can't grasp it.
Kate's gone in the back to fill up the croissant tray when Sam comes to stand at the counter.
"Well damn sweetheart, could' a just told me you're a cage fighter. Ain't have to show up at my job all busted up." Bucky's joking, but he's really concerned. Sam looks tired.
He at least chuckles and leans on the counter the way he always does, but Bucky gets the idea that this time it's more because he's struggling to stay upright and less because he's acting cute.
"Don't know what you mean," Sam says and tries to wink with his bad eye. He flinches, and so does Bucky.
"Jesus, Hotshot. Let me get that coffee going, huh? Wanna sit down? I'll pull a chair up right at the counter for you."
Sam puts up his hand, "No coffee today, gimme one of those fancy frozen things and a soft pastry." he points to his jaw, which is also a nasty dark blue. So he's obviously in pain, yet he still rolled around here for coffee when he should be in bed.
Bucky might be a fuckboy, but he ain't dumb.
Sam came to see him.
It's not like he can even stop the grin from forming on his face and firmly remaining in place, so he doesn't attempt it. He fills the blender with ice, hazelnut syrup, coffee and gets it mixing.
He and Sam grin stupidly at one another over the loud whirring of blades chopping ice cubes into shards. He's not paying attention to the t.v but Aunty Ramona is feverishly clapping hands, and when Bucky looks at the flatscreen in the corner it's footage of Captain America taking a nosedive for the Avengers Tower, two pistols drawn, while helicopters circle overhead.
"Jesus. Such a superhero. Much strong." he says, motions a hand to the t.v and shakes his head Sam looks over his shoulder and is smiling way too wide when he turns back to Bucky.
"This guy, huh!" Sam laughs. He looks far too amused by this, but he says, "What are those goggles all about, man?"
And Bucky says, "Right? I mean, what the hell?" The blender's done so he pours Sam's drink just as Kate comes out the back with crispy, fresh croissants. Bucky tells her, "Hey, dish my boy one of those, will ya, got his face all busted up by his super-secret job."
Kate looks at Sam, starts sliding a croissant into a small, brown paper bag without looking away. The frown between her eyes deepen.
What the hell, Kate?
"And the guy's suit," Bucky continues, "How does he move, it's so goddamn tight!"
Very absently, Kate says, "As if you care. All you do is talk about his butt muscles." She's still staring at Sam. Her head goes sideways like a puppy's.
Sam straightens up slowly like Kate's starting to scare him, wraps a hand around his drink and swallows when Kate then starts looking between him and the t.v. Sam and the t.v, Sam and the t.v.
"Kate, dude, what the fuck?" Bucky says, tries to discern what the hell is happening.
"Oh my god!" Kate yelps kind of choked back but still squeaky, "Oh, holy shit."
Sam's eyes are wide, he smacks a fifty down on the counter and starts booking it for the door. "Thanks, I uh... see ya!" and then he mumbles "shitshitshitfuck."
"Kate!" Bucky prods her in the ribs since she's still just staring at the door. "What in the—"
"Bucky, you numbnuts!" She says and grabs him by the shoulders, "Bucky, your fucking boyfriend is Ca—"
Kate doesn't finish that sentence because there's this massive, deafening clatter and something huge flying through their shop window in a rain of broken glass. Takes Bucky a second to realize that it's a person, a real goddamn person that skids along the floor and crashes against the back wall of the shop.
It takes him another couple of seconds to realize the person is Sam.
Bucky starts toward him, but Kate yanks him back. All the patrons have scattered and are crouched behind furniture. If there's one thing they all learned from the 2012 alien invasion, it is to take cover and stay down.
Cowering behind the counter, Kate and Bucky watch as Sam groans and starts getting up slowly. Glass crystals fall from his person and clink to the ground around his feet. He. Is. Pissed. Lord that is a good look on him.
"What is happening?!" Bucky loud-whispers to Kate.
"You'll see," she says, and she's got this wicked, crazy excited look in her eyes.
Then Sam shrugs off his leather jacket, rolls his neck, and this weird blue coating starts covering his entire body. It spreads seemingly from his wrists and ankles, making a faint whizzing sound as it sets in place. Up his legs, around his middle, circling his arms and lastly over his chest.
Bucky's mouth drops open. His chest… where a big white star sits smack bang in the middle of it. Even the goddamn stupid goggles fizzle into place over his eyes where before there was nothing. And if the entire nano-tech suit wasn't a dead give away, then the wings that equally as magically sprout from Sam's back, sure as fuck is.
Bucky's been fuckboying at Captain America.
Oh, dear lord.
Kate, despite a literal war breaking out in their coffee shop, takes a photo of Bucky's face at that very moment and starts cackling. So much so that she sinks to the floor.
Sam turns his head, gives Bucky a crooked smirk and says, "Hey cutie. Be right back." before he launches out of what used to be the coffee shop's window.
Another crazy thing happens: Clint drops down from... the roof? He shouts "Cap!" throws Sam's shield at him and then takes off after a mob of drones with a goddamn bow and arrow, dressed in weird spandex.
Bucky joins Kate on the ground and stares at her, "How come you didn't tell me?"
She's giggling, "I was about to, but he beat me to it!" she gets a terrible look on her face, "Like the show-off he is."
Bucky buries his face in his hands, and every backhanded quip he's every hurled at Captain America in Sam's presence feels like it's pointing fingers at him and laughing. Can't be all bad, he called Bucky cutie; he said he's coming back. Back for what though.
"And Clint?"
"Oh yeah," Kate says, "I've been sworn to secrecy, but now that the cat's outa the bag—"
"He's a goddamn Avenger?"
"What, you thought he got all busted up for fun?" Kate peers over the countertop then ducks back down fast, "Thought he annihilated my band-aid supply for fun?"
"Well, no,"
"Listen fuckboy, there's some serious shit going down out there, wanna go help your boyfriend?"
Before Bucky gets to protest with 'not my boyfriend' Kate hauls him up, herds all the patrons behind the counter and heads up to the roof, Bucky in tow.
For reasons he'll never be able to explain, Kate drags out a massive bow and a bag full of arrows with cute purple tips from under the ledge.
"If you tell me you're an Avenger, Kate, I'll never fucking speak to you again."
She snorts, lines an arrow up and aims, "Nope. But Clint's been teaching me." She curves her arm at a weird angle, and shoots into thin air, except the wind catches the arrow, swerves it and takes out a drone hovering in a corner a couple of feet away.
There's one coming up right behind Sam whose standing below them, and he doesn't see it because he's slicing the snack platter—the shield —he slicing the shield through another one.
Kate aims, but Bucky is faster, he grabs an old rickety pot plant and drops it. It hits the drone, doesn't so much destroy it, but causes it to go a little wonky. It's just in time for Sam to swing around and smash it into a wall instead.
Sam then looks up, grins, and salutes Bucky. The big idiot.
After a long while up on the roof, and after all of Kate's arrows are used up, the ruckus in the street subsides as the last few drones dwindle and fizzle out with sparks.
Bucky and Kate make their way back down to the coffee shop where everyone is safe and unharmed and slowly cowering out from behind the counter.
Everyone is pretty shaken up, especially aunty Ramona who keeps muttering shit about 'them goddamn robot beasts' but ENT's have started flooding the buildings and are attending to all casualties.
Bucky gets them some sugar water, and Kate brings the pastries that weren't ruined when the window blew out, to the front so everyone can eat some carbs and calm down.
Eventually, after Kate catches Bucky peering out onto the street for the fifteenth time, she rolls her eyes and shoves him toward the door, "Go!" she tells him and sits down next to Reggie.
Bucky's not sure where Sam went, but the place is pretty messed up, there are rocks and debris all over the road, and the air smells like the thick smoke blanket that hangs low over the city.
He stumbles over a pile of debris, avoids a fire hydrant spitting water from its broken top and finally sees movement in the distance.
It's Sam walking through the smog, wings still spanning at his sides. They kind of flap and it makes the clouds of smoke part as he moves toward Bucky. He must know what he looks like; he must know how fucking whimsical and utterly entrancing it is watching him with those wings on because he keeps it up for a few seconds longer before retracting them. Kind of grins all shy about it once he's close enough that Bucky can see his face.
Bucky's never seen such a thing though, never felt as alive as he does now watching Sam stripping off the top of the Captain America suit, letting it drop to his waist, so he's left in only a godforsaken, stupid blue compression vest.
Now, the goggles were dumb before, but when Sam's got that gait to his walk, and he's all sweaty and breathless, fresh from battle, and he pushes them up on his head like that. And when he wipes sweat from his brow while navigating his way over fields of rubble…
Yeah. Fuck. Bucky wonders if he's the only one seeing this in slow motion.
Sam looks a little meek and unsure when he stops in front of Bucky. Kind of shrugs, lifting his hands then dropping them to his sides, as if he's saying, 'Whelp. It's me.'
Bucky wants to grab him by the shoulders and just…
He tries his best to stay cool. He crosses his arms and leans back against a wonky street pole. "Well, color me pretty, Captain." Bucky makes a point of looking Sam from bottom to top, letting him know just how much he appreciates the view.
"Thought you'd figure it out sooner, what with your smart mouth and all," Sam says, his eyes drop to Bucky's lips, and he smirks, got a look on his face that makes Bucky's knees feel unstable.
Sam comes closer, eyes low like a cheetah stalking prey. Bucky can't breathe right; he can't focus, his head's swimming with ideas of what Sam is about to do. He's thinking, begging silently: please fucking kiss me, sir, please fucking kiss me, do it hard, do it. Just...
And what Sam does is kiss Bucky. He slides his hand in the back of Bucky's neck, drags him closer and connects their lips so soft, slightly open, so Bucky feels the wet, warmth of his tongue.
Bucky forgets everything. Every goddamn thing. He doesn't know what to do with his hands; his cheeks are flaring; his whole chest is pounding.
Captain America is necking with him in a battle ridden street. His tongue's sliding along Bucky's lips, his hand is on the small of Bucky's back pressing down, pulling closer. He smells like gunpowder and Armani; he tastes like the coffee Bucky sold him.
Bucky's whole world kind of tips off its axis and sends him swimming, tumbling, grabbing onto Sam's upper arms. Christ.
And then Sam makes this little groan, and his left hand settles on Bucky's jaw, just holding him, like something precious and tender.
At least Bucky does his fair share of kissing back, licks a little to tease, squeezing Sam's biceps.
When they have to break away for air, Sam leans back by like an inch only, drags his thumb over Bucky's bottom lip and his eyes stay there, his mouth parted and wet. Like art, Bucky thinks, it's art.
"I gotta help clean up the scene, but," he says. He leans in to place another kiss to Bucky's lips, this time just quick but equally enticing. Then he looks at Bucky, "Let me take you out?"
Bucky's voice is woozy, a little starstruck when he speaks. His brain has clearly not processed this yet. "Now? I'm kinda filthy, Hotshot."
Sam's eyes crinkle with a grin, and he bites his lip, "Oh, I hope so." Bucky snorts. Sam starts pulling the suit top back on. He's walking away backward, "Tonight at eight. Dress nice." he tilts his head sideways, gives Bucky once over. "Wear your hair down for me, huh?"
Bucky thinks, sir, you can ask me to wear a refuse bag and I will.
"You got it, sweetheart!" He says instead like a normal human boy so that Captain America doesn't think he's an entirely infatuated fool.
His quiet bliss of watching Sam jog away doesn't last.
"Really. This is just, ug," Kate puts her palm flat on her chest, makes this face rich white girls make when they talk about their dogs. "It's like so touching, it's so sweet I'm literally diabetic, but like, we got a shitshow to clean up over at the shop and like—"
Bucky laughs at her, "You been watching? Didn't know you're into that, Katie." He starts falling in step with her, and she swings her arm around his shoulder.
"In your dreams, fuckboy," she says.