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New York was a place that changed, constantly. People came and went as quickly as the boutiques that lined the picturesque side streets. One had to learn to deal with the change or they would get caught up in the rush, and eventually would lose their way. Bucky thought about the times he had stumbled through New York, disoriented and lost. He thought about how it wasn’t just New York he got lost in, sometimes he would get lost in himself for days. On those days no one could find him. Except for Steve. He always found him, or really, they always found each other. Of all the things that changed in New York, Steve Rogers was his only constant. Sure, the other Avengers where always there for him, but they had their own lives, their own issues. He felt guilty anytime he interrupted that. Then again he felt guilty when he interrupted Steve too, but he knew Steve didn’t mind, much.
The last few days had been particularly rough. At one point he had taken his motorcycle out of the city and had ridden until he saw signs that told him he was entering another state entirely. His body mindlessly filled the tank with gas and he kept going. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good thing Stark had given him an all access pass to Stark money in the form of a limitless credit card. Eventually he came around to the buzzing in his pocket and the crisp feeling of night. He had been on his bike for over half the day having wandered into the apartment’s garage before the sun had come up. The call came through his helmet, something he only wore because Stark had programmed the bike not to start if he didn’t wear it. Probably on Steve’s request. The buzzing cut out and he whispered lowly into the mouth piece, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Steve wasn’t panicked, at least not outwardly. To anyone else it would have sounded like an innocent question. But Bucky knew the truth. Oh he knew that Steve was in his apartment, bare feet wearing a hole in the rug. His back ramrod straight and a look of hell in his eyes. He knew that it was a look that even made Tony Stark feel remorse for his actions. It did not, however, reach Bucky in his current frame of mind.
He sighed and pulled off at the closest exit, his bike coming to a halt in a gas station parking lot. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. Honestly he had no clue, he knew he was still on a road that headed south from New York but hadn’t thought to check any if the signs. He could be halfway to Florida for all he knew.
“What are you doing?”
“Driving.”
“For how long?”
Bucky chewed his lip and did a few quick mental calculations. “About twelve hours, southward direction.”
“Are you ready to come home?”
“Yeah. I didn’t find what I was looking for out here anyway.” He had been trying to find a way to get an itch out of the back of his mind. An itch that told him he needed to make it up to Steve for putting up with him. In his reflective state he thought a ride would find an answer, but it really only worsened the problem.
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Not going to tell me to drive safe and be careful?”
The laugh on the other line was barely above a low huff but he knew it meant Steve wasn’t actually mad at him, not that he was ever mad at him. But sometimes Bucky’s mind said he was. “Your bike could drive itself home if you figured out how to turn on the programming. Goodbye Buck.”
“Bye Steve. I’ll be home soon.”
The ride back to New York was uneventful, though Bucky did try to activate the self-piloting feature, to not much avail. He was more alert on the way back, his head was still foggy and restless though and he found out he had missed sixteen calls from Steve spanning the course of about eight hours. Sam and Natasha, and even Thor at one point, had texted him to ask him where he was. He pulled the bike into its designated spot next to Steve’s bike and Sharon’s scooter. On a column outside off the apartment’s front door were a few flyers. Bucky stopped to look at one that had caught his eye. It was a new gallery opening featuring photographs that had one of those vintage filters on them and where a bunch of old neighborhoods and cars. He didn’t quite get the appeal, but Steve did. He enjoyed using them on his Captain America Instagram posts because it was a part of his “aesthetic”. Bucky just liked posting pictures of random things he found on the street, like a weak ago he found a potato chip in a tree. The photo got 16.7k likes and was retweeted and reblogged across the internet. Meanwhile, Steve posted photos of himself at charity events or civil rights rallies with inspirational quotes. And even artfully done pictures of central park and the downtown areas. Needless to say, Steve got much more dignified responses to his posts, not that they both didn’t find the edited picture of the potato chip dressed as Ironman to be hysterical.
Rolling his shoulders, he noted down the date and time of the event before heading upstairs to his apartment. It was across the hall from Sharon and next door to Steve. Before he could get his door all the way open a large blonde haired figure wedged its way into his doorframe. Arms crossed over a t-shirt that Sam and him had been making bets on how long it would last before it tore apart. (Granted, Sam’s bet had been for when Bucky eventually tore it off of him.) Bucky felt like he had just been cornered by a very passive-aggressive mother hen. He stared Steve down until he eventually stepped aside to let him through. He had passed the initial care check. He wasn’t even shocked to find Natasha sitting on his couch or Sam in his kitchen, both of them helping themselves to his food. He was, however, surprised to see Maria Hill sitting next to Natasha. He turned to look at Steve, “Did I miss an important Shield-related problem?”
Maria looked up from the tv at him, “No, I heard we were getting free food at Barnes’ house so I stopped by.”
“I was not the one to send it out.” Natasha supplied this information around a mouthful or crackers.
Being around all of them proved to be a good way to settle his restlessness because he fell asleep on the floor, his back against his couch. He also woke up there. With Clint asleep on his couch. He thought about waking him and asking when he had gotten there but figured he probably didn’t want to know. So he made some coffee for him and wandered over to Steve’s apartment. The door opened before he even knocked. “You’ve got to stop picking up bad habits from Nat, Clint, and Bobbi.”
“I heard your door.” Steve let him in and offered him some breakfast foods, mostly eggs and bacon. He knew the question was coming, Steve was so intent on asking. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Are you busy tomorrow night at eight?” He asked the question, almost overlapping Steve’s. His thoughts beginning to rattle again as he became more awake.
They answered together, “No.”
“Why?” Steve veered towards Bucky’s question, leaving his conversation unfinished.
“Uh…” He shifted slightly in his seat. “There’s a thing at this place about stuff that you like. Like art stuff kind of stuff. And it’s tomorrow night, at eight.”
“Are you asking me to go on a date Bucky Barnes?” Steve resumed his cross-armed mother hen pose and Bucky felt a sense of discomfort. He was suddenly unsure of the answer.
“I… Guess…?” That was apparently a good enough answer because Steve smiled. They agreed on how they would get there and how they would dress and Bucky left the conversation feeling only slightly confused. Steve liked art so going to see art would be good and would make up for being an ass who disappeared for long periods of time.
The art show proved to be boring, very, very boring, and Steve appeared to love every second of it. People in the crowd were buzzing about seeing Captain America and the Winter Soldier at an art gallery. The artist apparently was getting his few moments of fame because he could say his art was endorsed by the Avengers. It didn’t help that Natasha and Sam were also there, for reasons unspecified. After they had stared at a faded picture of a rusted out truck for ten minutes Bucky finally excused himself to go find a corner to not look at pictures in. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like art, he just liked science better. He managed to sneak past Nat and Sam who were not at all blending into the crowd and found a corner with a water fountain. Eventually Steve found him, his smile slightly sheepish. “This isn’t really your thing is it?”
“We should change your name to Captain Obvious.” That earned him a sarcastic eye roll and a huffed laugh. “As long as you’re having fun, I’m good.”
He was not shocked, surprised, or floored when Steve leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. And he most definitely did not take the opportunity to turn it into an actual kiss.
Natasha and Sam where also not watching them, and Sam was not regretfully handing Nat over twenty bucks. However, Nat certainty requested for Sam to let out a low wolf-whistle at them. Which earned them a middle finger from Bucky and side-glare from Steve.
Steve laughed and rested their foreheads together. The camera apps around the room where already flying open and flashes where going off everywhere. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Maybe.” He laughed too, low and happy.
“PR is going to kill us.”