Chapter Text
The thundering cheers and claps from the various amounts of fans outside the vehicle reverberate into the car that Steve is currently sitting in, on his way to the Los Angeles Convention Center. He waves and hopes the fans can see him through the tinted glass of the car windows, his driver going significantly slower to make sure no one gets hurt. At some point, Steve dips the window down slightly, sticking his hand out to wave properly, causing an eruption of cheers to echo into the vehicle. They follow him all the way to the center, only being greeted by another few hundred people when the car pulls up at the center.
With Steve Rogers’ new movie, Captain America: Civil War only a week away, the premiere looming over him like a weighted blanket, he must attend what he hates the most: press interviews.
Steve doesn’t ever take his fame for granted; growing up in the small corners of Brooklyn with his widowed mother, five feet tall if he was lucky and lungs that constantly worked against his favor, he didn’t think he’d be where he’s at now. Knowing from a young age that school was not his thing, and that he didn’t see himself following the nursing footsteps of his mother, he turned to the theatre community, peaking once he hit high school. Regardless of the fact that people made fun of him for it, he is what kickstarted the students’ love for theatre. He is the reason his History teacher took a leap, accepting to be the main leader of the theatre group. With all their hard work, they were able to take their performances to regionals, and then eventually, to nationals. Steve’s school was suddenly highly recognized for their talented theatre students.
Specifically, Steve was highly recognized.
He began acting professionally from a decently young age; the minute he graduated, when he was eighteen, he already had scholarships lined up for prestigious acting schools, Julliard and the America Conservatory Theater being two of the greatest acting schools at the time. However, he settled with the Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute. He was close to his mother, whose health was dwindling by the day, and he wasn’t carrying the immense pressure that would’ve been on his shoulders had he gone with Julliard.
A sudden growth spurt, a funeral and four years later, Steve was scoring roles in movies; cheesy, goofy movies that probably weren’t getting much traction, but just enough to gain him exposure.
That’s why when he was asked to audition for the role of Captain America, there was almost no hesitation. Marvel was a huge franchise, with their comics and whatnot, and Steve had seen Iron Man in theatres and had been absolutely mind blown. He only wished that he’d be able to take part in something so great. He knew it would be a commitment, something that could become big, that could take over the world.
And that, it did.
Civil War is the thirteenth blockbuster from the ongoing Marvel Cinematic Universe, and Steve only has them to thank for his successes. He went from being a small F-List actor, just looking to do what he loved, to becoming one of the most famous celebrities of present day. Not that he minded. The fame was a lot, having everyone watch your every move, analyze everything you do, but Steve always knew that he could go home when he needed some humbling, or when it became too much for him to handle. He knew that his mother would be proud of him for everything he’s accomplished. He worked hard to get where he’s at, so he refuses to take any of it for granted. This opportunity doesn’t come for everyone, so he’s fortunate to be one of them.
But goddammit, press tours suck.
They have the potential to be entertaining. It is fun to have the cast back together to promote their movie; he hasn’t seen some of his closest friends Sam, Natasha and Clint in months due to scheduling conflicts, so meeting up with them and the other cast members is nice. Seeing and interacting with fans is the best part of it.
It’s the early rise, the hours and hours of the same questions and not being able to say much because you can’t risk spoiling anything, and the constant edginess of press tours that Steve hates. It’s redundant, repetitive. It’s exhausting.
It’s exhausting, but today, he’s not too mad about it. He’s not too mad about the few hours he has of press, because after his lunch break, he gets to do something he’s been waiting for an invite for, for the longest time.
First We Feast Presents: Hot Ones, with Bucky Barnes.
Here’s the thing… here’s the thing about Hot Ones. It’s hilarious, and so authentic, and so easy to watch; it’s not stilted, awkward, rehearsed conversations, it’s actual quality, it makes you want to watch the interview. It’s fun, because you get to eat spicy wings (and Steve loves wings), and the questions are actual, well researched, good questions that Steve can answer, things that make Steve actually have to think. He’s been watching various costars and other different celebrities since the show began, and he’s only been waiting for his agent to contact him and let him know he had finally gotten an invite.
Steve, however, had a bit more of a reason to love Hot Ones, and this was due to their wonderful host, Bucky Barnes.
Steve remembered Bucky. He was a year below Steve, but everyone in his high school knew of him; knew of his wit, his charisma, his humor, his charm. Steve can’t lie, Bucky may have been the reason why Steve realized that he was attracted to men just as much as he was attracted to women.
Bucky had always been what people categorized as a class clown, always making people laugh, cracking jokes. He was so polite, so nice to everyone, just a gentle, beautiful soul walking around in just as beautiful of a body. He was the type that didn’t let bullies get away with anything, especially towards Steve.
They hadn’t been friends, nothing more than acquaintances; in fact, they hardly knew each other, but they walked the same trail on the way home. Initially, Steve would always be out a little earlier, Bucky lingering on school grounds to talk to his buddies. Steve had gotten into a tussle with his usual intimidators and had taken a few hits to the face when a very angry and deep voice had interrupted his beating, as the bullies scrambled. Bucky had held out his hand, helping Steve up, and had walked him home. After that day, the minute Steve would hit the trail on his way home, Bucky was running up behind him to catch up. They didn’t talk much on their walks, but Steve had felt a calmness that he hadn’t felt with anyone else. Bucky was always gentle with him, always respected him and treated him like anyone else. It made Steve feel loved; made him feel like some people did actually care about his feelings.
When Steve performed his last play before graduating, Bucky had been there. He hadn’t been there for Steve, as far as Steve was concerned, especially when most of Bucky’s friends were also in Theatre, but when the play was over and dessert was being served in the lobby, Bucky had approached him, congratulating him on his wonderful performance.
“You’re going to take over the world, Steve,” Bucky had grinned, making Steve’s cheeks redden with the compliment.
“Ah, thanks man, but says you. With all that charisma, I see you as one of those amazing late-night show hosts I watch every night.” Bucky’s eyes had twinkled, a larger grin spreading on his face. Steve couldn’t help but get lost in his mesmerizing eyes.
“Imagine that,” Bucky had chuckled, patting Steve’s shoulder. “An actor and a talk show host. May our paths cross in the future, Steve Rogers.”
Before Steve had replied, Bucky had been dragged away by his group of friends. The words had stuck with him past graduation into his first year of university, hoping, wishing, that maybe Bucky was right, that maybe one day, their paths would cross again. It slowly faded into a thought in the far back of his mind, but a thought that was there, nonetheless. With a focus on himself and his own successes, he left high school and all of its events behind. That was, until he was scrolling through YouTube for something to watch and stumbled upon a video on his Recommended list, a face he didn’t fully recognize, due to the fact that Bucky had aged multiple years, but that name; it was too unique. Who else in the world was called Bucky Barnes?
He watched that video. Then, he clicked on the channel and watched another. And another. And the next. By the time he had caught up on all the videos, he was so giddy and there were tears in his eyes because it may not be a talk-show, but it was something, and it was so Bucky, that Steve couldn’t have wished for Bucky anything else.
From that point on, he begged. A new TV show on the rise? Contact First We Feast. A new movie premiering soon? Contact First We Feast. Need more Steve Rogers content? Contact First We Feast. Years, Steve begged his agent to get him on the show. Years that Bucky’s schedules remained so ridiculously overbooked that they couldn’t fit Steve anywhere, no matter how much they said they tried.
Until today.
He was finally going to go on his favorite YouTube show, finally reunite with the young man who walked him home from school every day to make sure he wouldn’t get his ass beat, the man who wished him the best, who told him he was going to take over the world. Steve wanted to tell Bucky out loud that he did it. He took over the world.
With a deep breath, he exits the car, waving to his fans apologetically as his bodyguard rushes him into the building. He quickly stores a mental reminder to sign autographs and take photos with fans on his way out, once he wouldn’t be time restrained.
Four hours, he tells himself. Four hours, and then you get to see Bucky Barnes again.
+++
Bucky had always been somewhat of a clown.
It wasn’t a bad thing; it made his sisters laugh, though it really irritated his parents. Growing up in Brooklyn was boring and monotone, and he definitely brought the entertainment around with him. Everyone seemed to like him and get along with him well enough, but Bucky only trusted a handful of friends, who clearly cared more about Bucky than just what they saw on the surface.
He had initially wanted to pursue Sciences, in hopes of becoming a psychiatrist like his father. The interest was still there as he grew up, but he remained fascinated by the famous life, wanting to see the growth and development of celebrities, wanted to know what it was like, what that life was like.
He quickly changed his mind in high school, gaining more of a focus on Media Studies and Arts. He had an internship lined up for him right out of high school and took it with open arms. He got to explore what the media was like, what the press was like, how celebrities behaved based on the questions being asked, who they were asked by, how to look open, how to make sure you’re charismatic, funny, charming. Bucky already had the traits, as he’d been told. He just needed to apply them.
After a few years, he ended up working for Complex Media. Five years in, he threw down the First We Feast idea with Gabe Jones, his best friend and coworker, to their bosses. The idea was hilarious and different, something that hadn’t been seen before.
It had become a hit. Before Bucky knew it, everything he had hoped for and then some, was occurring right in front of his very eyes. He was doing what he loved, and he was having fun doing it. He was making bank, too. The exposure that Complex had received from First We Feast was rocket high. He was no Josh Horowitz, but he was almost there.
This is how James Buchanan Barnes, young boy from Brooklyn, ends up in Los Angeles, frowning at the GPS of his rented vehicle to head to the Los Angeles Convention Center for another episode of Hot Ones.
“Holy fuck,” Bucky mutters, his eyebrows to his hairline as he drives by the Los Angeles Convention Centre to circle around the back and reach the indoor garage. The crowd standing outside is massive, all happy smiles, nervous hands, assorted posters, cheering for the arrival of their favorite actors, or directors. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the crowd, seeing how many people were out to support their favorite people. To support Steve Rogers.
Bucky gulps, turning the corner to head to the parking lot.
Was he nervous? He was definitely nervous. Five seasons, five seasons of eating spicy wings until his tongue went numb and meeting different actors, singers, performers, getting to learn more about each and every one of these people and their lives outside of just the fame and the job. So many faces, rich faces, and he had managed to keep his cool, keep up his charming, charismatic attitude, never nervous, always prepared.
Today, though, he’s fucking nervous. He hates just how absolutely fucking wrecked he is.
After fifteen years, fifteen, without a single sight other than watching him onscreen, he was finally going to meet him again; his high school crush, potentially the only man he came close to falling in love with. Steve Rogers.
Bucky had been obvious in high school. He didn’t understand how Steve hadn’t seen the longing looks Bucky passed him in the hallways, or the way he always walked him home every day. He didn’t miss the groans that would circulate his lunch table when he would bring up Steve’s name for the hundredth time that day.
He went to Steve’s last play and cried. Not because of Steve’s performance, which was impeccable, but because he knew that raw talent was going to get Steve somewhere, knew with absolute certainty that Steve was going to get the recognition he deserved. He wished he could see Steve obtain that recognition by his side, but the world just didn’t work with him that way, so he settled for a congratulations. He hadn’t expected Steve to say he saw Bucky becoming successful, and he knew he could’ve kissed that stupid, cute face of his then and there, but he didn’t. Because he’s a cowarding coward who cowards, or whatever.
It’s not like they had been friends; at best, they had been mere acquaintances, but Bucky had wished for more. He had wished for so much more.
Bucky didn’t directly handle actor booking, but he was aware of who was getting booked and when so that he could do his research. Every week, he hoped Gabe would say Steve’s name. Every week, hoping that maybe he would finally get that moment he’s been waiting for, that moment he told Steve would one day happen. May our paths cross in the future, Steve Rogers. He prayed and wished and prayed some more, only to be disappointed every time. He almost forgot about it.
“Alright, in two weeks Civil War premieres, so we’ve booked you for an episode with the lead, Steve Rogers,” Gabe had said one day, entering Bucky’s office without knocking.
Bucky hadn’t heard anything else, completely frozen at hearing Gabe actually say Steve’s name out loud.
“Did—did you say Steve Rogers?” Bucky had stammered. Gabe had nodded, and then frowned when Bucky jumped around his office, punching his hands excitedly in the air. “Guess you’re a huge fan,” Gabe had muttered. If only he knew even the half of it.
Today’s the day he’s been waiting for, and now he has to go and be all fucking nervous, the prick. Get it together.
He steps out of his car once he has it parked, and heads towards the elevators to bring him up to the second floor, where his staff and crew are setting up for Steve’s interview. It’s not for another three hours, but it’s better to be safe and set up early than to rush in a few hours.
“Looking good, folks,” Bucky claps, walking towards Gabe who’s at his computer at a table off to the side.
“Chef’s going to cook up the wings around twelve thirty, that way they don’t cool down in time for the interview. He’s going to bring them over at ten minutes to filming.”
“Ah, Gabe, you are honestly the best. Absolute music to my ears,” Bucky grins, before turning to his camera crew to discuss how he wants the cameras set up. His questions for Steve are neatly written on a piece of paper tucked in his pocket, weighing heavily in his pocket.
He can do this, he thinks.
Four hours, he thinks. Four hours and I get to see Steve again.