Chapter Text
Bucky is not a morning person. He never has been, and he never will be. That's why he argued so vehemently with his adviser. Dr. Potts had insisted he needed the credits, and this was the only class open. He insisted he'd rather be in school for another semester taking one class than take a class at 7am two days a week. He ultimately lost, but only because Dr. Potts' infamous stare-down came into play. He cursed this dirty trick as he walked into the small lecture hall, choosing a seat in the back (ignoring the few seats left near the front) and dropping into it like a bag of bricks. Students continue to trickle in in the remaining few minutes before class begins. The professor walks through the door with 30 seconds before 7, not pausing to look at the class as he strolls to the front, introducing himself as he goes.
"Good morning, my name is Mr. Coulson. You are enrolled in American History 155, emphasis on WWII and its effects on American culture. I hope you managed to take a look at, and print the syllabus I prepared and emailed to all of you who were enrolled in the class as of yesterday. Please take it out, if you did not print a copy for yourself please come to the front of the class and get one." He drops a stack of papers on the table in front of him and turns to the whiteboard where he begins writing.
Bucky thanks every god he knows that he checked his email at the last minute before going to bed as he watches the few unfortunate souls who had not trudge up to the front of the class. He is startled by a sudden movement by his side. A small, skinny, blonde boy that he had not noticed sit beside him is rummaging through his bag, grumbling to himself. Bucky stares as the boy pulls out a monster energy drink from his bag and pours it into his large cup of, what looks to be, black coffee. Without missing a step the boy brings the cup to his mouth and says
"I'm going to die"
"You will if that's what you put in your body." The boy looks at him out of the corner of his eye as he gulps down his caffeinated concoction then settles back in his chair and sets his cup down. He smiles at Bucky and Bucky wants to touch the wrinkles at the edge of his eyes. He has no idea why; he has never had the urge to do that to anyone before and it weirds him out, so he grabs the cup out of his hand. It has the desired effect, the wrinkles go away when the boy's brow furrows in confusion as he watches Bucky take a drink. Serves him right for the cocky smile, Bucky is known for being cocky. He can't let some kid upstage him.
"Oh god, that is disgusting!" He gags on the drink and sets it back on the boy's desk.
"Hey man, I gotta survive somehow."
"I'm pretty sure that thing will have the opposite effect."
The boy grins again.
"I'm Steve."
"Bucky."
"Bucky? Not a name you hear every day."
"Yeah, it's short for Buchanan. James Buchanan Barnes."
"Your parents uber patriots or something?"
"Something like that."
"Mr. Rogers, do you feel you've taken enough of my classes you can tune this one out entirely?" Steve straightens and snaps his attention to Mr. Coulson.
"Uh, no. Sorry. Paying attention."
"Thank you." Professor Coulson continues to go over the syllabus, and Bucky realizes they're nearly half finished. He smirks at Steve being called out and joins the class in looking at due dates for the major projects of the class. It doesn't seem too difficult, his 7am class could have been worse. He enjoys history, and knows quite a bit about the time period. He already has ideas for a couple of the papers and might even be able to use one he'd already written from a couple of years ago with a bit of editing. He looks over at Steve and sees him scribbling furiously on the paper, it's covered in illegible notes. Bucky never understood that habit. He'd tried it to see if it helped him do better with his homework, but ultimately he'd always been able to keep track of his work in his head and the notes ended up confusing him. The way Steve is going, he obviously needs the notes. Bucky had never seen anyone take that many. Coulson finishes, and answers the questions other students ask and they end early.
Bucky grumbles about getting up at 6:30 am just to go to a class that ended 30 minutes early as he jammed the syllabus into his satchel. He looks back at the professor before leaving to see him and Steve laughing. He wonders how many classes of Coulson's Steve has taken. Steve looks up and catches him staring then turns to shake Coulson's hand. He bounds up the stairs to the exit where he meets Bucky.
"I'm gonna go get something to eat if you want to come along."
"Uh, yeah. Sure. I guess I should eat something." The dining hall isn't far, but Bucky's freezing less than half way there.
"Jeez, it's getting cold early this year." He tucks his hands under his armpits trying to warm them up.
"Not really. It'll warm up around 10. You're not up in the mornings, are you?" Bucky glares at Steve and Steve laughs. They get to the dining hall and Bucky is relieved when the blast of warm air hits them as they go in the door. The guy working the swipe machine smiles at them when they walk in.
"Did you make it to class?"
"Barely. I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the semester, and it's only just started." Steve hands his ID to the guy to swipe in, and waits for Bucky to do the same.
"You say that every semester, and then you come out the end with straight A's." he turns his attention to Bucky. "This guy is some sort of super human."
"Yeah, well he'd have to be to be able to ingest death in a cup."
"Ah you've been introduced to the Monster Monstrosity. I don't know how he drinks that shit."
"Bucky, this is my roommate, Sam. Sam, Bucky."
"Nice to meet you."
"You too, enjoy your breakfast." Bucky groans at the word. He hasn't eaten breakfast at a normal breakfast time in years; probably not since high school. They split up to get their food. Bucky has some toast and runny scrambled eggs. It's entirely unappetizing so he gets more toast in anticipation of the eggs being inedible, and finds an empty table after not seeing Steve sitting anywhere. Steve does eventually join him with a mound of eggs and a tall glass of milk. Bucky realizes when he sits down that he has no idea who this kid is. He thinks he might have seen him around campus, but he's never once had any sort of interaction with him before this morning.
"So what's the deal? Inviting me to breakfast?"
"I wanted to ask if you would work on the partner project with me." Bucky has to really think to figure out what he's talking about. He vaguely remembers there being one on the syllabus, but he's pretty sure it's not due until nearer the end of the semester. Steve must be able to read his next question on his face because he answers without being prompted.
"I've got a lot of big projects this semester, and Phil lets me choose my partners early so I can schedule everything in."
"Phil?"
"Professor Coulson. Phil Coulson."
"You guys seemed pretty buddy buddy today, even though he called you out in front of the entire class." Steve laughs.
"Yeah, I've taken a few of his classes the last 3 years and I'm one of his favorite students."
"Huh. Didn't know teachers were allowed to pick favorites."
"Yeah, well. I get my work done on time and I do a good job. It helps that I really like him as a teacher and find his subject matter interesting." Steve takes a huge bite of his eggs, and Bucky is amazed at the amount of food he can fit in his mouth. It's probably the early hour making his brain turn into his drunk brain, but his mind immediately flashes to that mouth fitting around other things. He shakes his head and takes a drink of water.
"So what do you think? You don't have to start doing anything now, but it's helpful if I know who I'm working with early on."
"Uh, yeah. Yeah I can work with you. OW!" Bucky jerks his head forward and flings his arms up in reaction to being slapped in the back of the head. Natasha leans down to kiss Steve on the top of his head before sitting down in the chair at the end of the table and rests her feet on Bucky's knees.
"What the hell are you doing up so early, Barnes?" She asks in Russian. He glares at her and rubs his head.
"I had class." He replies, also in Russian. Natasha laughs at him.
"You two know each other?" They both look at Steve, then at each other again. Natasha is the one to answer, switching to English.
"We go way back. A lot further than you and me, but don't worry old man. I still like you more."
"How do you know Nat?" Bucky asks, ignoring Natasha who is looking at him hoping to get the rise she wanted.
"She modeled for-"
"Ahhhhh, ssshhh. We had a class together."
"Modeled? Natasha Romanov modeled? For what?"
"I did not. We had a class together."
"Yeah, what class?"
"It was...a science class."
"A science class?"
"Yeah, a science class."
She takes her feet off of his knees, dragging her heel a bit making Bucky flinch.
"Steve, I know I told you you gotta branch out and make more friends, but I really have to advise against this one."
He swallows a mouth-full of eggs and smiles making the stupid wrinkles coming back and the combination makes Bucky feel the need to dump his glass of water over his head, or just in his lap. It's entirely too early for this shit.
"I was just asking him to be my partner for Phil's project."
"Oh god. You're such a little pet, sucking up to Coulson."
"I'm not sucking up to him. You know I need to plan things in advance."
"One, you may not be sucking up to him but he's in love with you. I wouldn't be surprised if you got him fired for fraternizing with a student. Two, you plan all kinds of things in advance but you never get them done until the last minute anyways. Why do you even bother?"
"I plan it all out so I can actually get it all done. It's not on purpose that things get finished at the last minute."
"You take way too long."
"Yeah, like you're any better."
Natasha scoffs and takes a swig of his milk.
"What is it with everyone and drinking my stuff today. It's not even 9."
"Who the hell drank the Monster Monstrosity?"
"Is that an actual thing?" Bucky interjects. "You're the second person to call it that, is this like a thing that people drink?"
"No, just Steve. He drinks it enough though that Sam and I named it. It's disgusting." "Yeah. I don't know how you can drink it."
"Was it you that drank the damn coffee? Jesus, Barnes. Did you puke?"
"Please. You know it takes more than..." Bucky thought about it. "Actually, yeah. If anything that would probably be the thing to do it."
Natasha smirks.
"Alright. I have to get to class. Thanks Bucky, I'll see you on Thursday. Bye Nat." Steve waves at Bucky and kisses Natasha on the forehead. She takes a piece of toast from Bucky's plate, and switches back to Russian.
"You like him."
"What? No. I don't even know the kid."
"Come on, I saw the way you got all hot and bothered. He really can fit a lot in his mouth."
Bucky chokes on the water he was drinking and Natasha grins at him.
"Anyways, Clint's having a party at his place Friday. He talked his coach into letting him borrow a target for the weekend so there's probably gonna be a lot of drunk idiots shooting things if you wanna come by."
"Yeah I'll be there." He leans back in his chair and grins at her. She cocks an eyebrow at him.
"So, Steve's an artist, huh?" The eyebrow goes impossibly higher.
"Yeah."
"Are they tasteful?"
"Are what tasteful?"
"I assume you posed nude, 'cause you know, what's the point otherwise, right?" Natasha scowls and kicks Bucky's chair sending him toppling backwards. The people around them turn, startled and concerned. Natasha gets up and walks away while Bucky laughs on the floor. He laughs so hard tears fall from his eyes. A girl from the next table over asks him if he's alright, and he gets up and takes his plate.
"Yeah. I need to go back to bed."
The week passes by pretty quickly, Tuesday and Thursday being the longest Bucky has to go through. Coulson's class was good even though it was so early, he and Steve said good morning to each other, but other than that the lecture went from the very beginning of class until the end, barely leaving any time for questions, and Steve bolted out of the classroom as soon as they were dismissed. Bucky ended up going back to bed and sleeping until his next class. Friday night is a welcome relief, and Bucky is looking forward to showing up at Clint's and getting as hammered as possible.
The party is already in full swing when he gets there (fashionably late) and Bucky is already one shot down by the time he gets to the time he gets to living room where Natasha hands him another shot and a beer. He gladly takes both, setting the empty plastic shot glass on the nearest available surface.
"I fucking hate morning classes."
"It's been one week."
"I fucking hate morning classes. Also that damn lit class is kicking my ass already. I had her Junior year, I'm gonna die this semester."
"Again, it's been one week. And your class load isn't even that bad. Poor Steve is the one that's gonna die."
"He mentioned that. What's the deal with that guy anyways?" Bucky sets his empty beer bottle down next to the shot glass and starts moving to the kitchen to get another.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, is he like, I don't know. One day he asks me to go to breakfast with him after class, then the next time he bolts before Coulson can finish saying 'see you on Tuesday'."
"Aw, did James get his feelings hurt?"
Bucky doesn't grace this with an answer, instead chugs his beer until it's halfway empty. He's got a great buzz, but still isn't that unsteady when Clint claps him on the back.
"Would you guys quit talking in Russian, you're making the other guests feel uncomfortable."
"Sorry, Barnes is trying to get information on his crush."
"Oooh ho ho! Crush? Who's it this time Barnes? Sexy babe with a french accent? Sexy dude with a french accent? Big boobs? Big di - oof!" Bucky punches Clint in the stomach to make him stop saying words.
"I don't have a crush. Just a weird group project partner."
"Damn, You've already got group projects?”
"No, it's not for a couple of months. Hence the weird partner."
"It's Steve Rogers." Natasha smiles knowingly up at Clint and he returns it with a grin. "Oh you are so done for Barnes."
Before Bucky can ask what he means a fratty looking guy stumbles into Clint and grabs his shoulders. He's slurring as he challenges him to a shooting match and Clint shakes his shoulder. The music is lowered as Clint stands on a chair and announces the beginning of the archery competition in the back yard. A loud cheer erupts and there is a mass exodus to the makeshift shooting range in the back. Bucky pops open another beer on the counter and sits on one of the bar stools lining it. He downs his beer and looks at Nat who's grown a little hazy.
"Someone's gonna die tonight."
"Idiots. I don't understand why they continue to think they have any chance to beat him." Something catches her eye and she's smiling. Bucky follows her gaze and sees Steve and the kid from the cafeteria, he thinks he remembers his name is Sam, walking towards them.
"You made it!"
"Barely. It took me forever to get his skinny ass away from his desk. Nearly lost him at the studio."
"You're a hero Sam." She replaces his empty beer with a new one and tries to give Steve another, but he shakes his head.
"I've still got a lot of work to do tonight."
"No you don't. Tonight you take a break. You guys gonna come watch these meat heads shoot arrows at everything but the target?" Sam laughs and offers his elbow to Natasha. She takes it and looks at Steve and Bucky waiting for a response.
"Not planning on getting anymore holes tonight." Bucky says.
"Drunk meat heads with weapons aren't really my style." Steve adds.
"Alright. Don't get into too much trouble in here all alone, boys." The pair leave arm in arm. Bucky and Steve are left in an empty house, some sort of house music beating quietly out of the surround sound. Bucky watches Steve take a drink, and it's definitely his drunk mind this time that makes him want to bite his bobbing Adam's apple.
"You're not gonna shoot tonight?"
"What?" Bucky missed what Steve said, too distracted by the strands of blonde hair falling across his face.
"I'd figured getting drunk and shooting things would be right up your alley."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, I mean you've got a reputation around school as the party boy."
"I have a reputation?"
Steve just nods in response.
"Huh. Well, I guess it's true. I don't do archery though."
"Not your style?"
"No. I mean, I'd like to. I can't though. My arm is all kinds of fucked up."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Bad accident back in high school. I lost some of the muscle and it's pretty useless now. I mean, I can still use it, just not for things that take a bunch of strength." He has no idea why he's telling Steve this. He's never told anyone about it before, except for Nat and Clint but they don't count seeing as they know everything else about him. He's suddenly embarrassed and wishing he'd just said "no". But when he looks at Steve, Steve doesn't have any sort of look Bucky's used to getting when people find out about his arm. Usually pity or disgust, Steve just looks like he's thinking. It's a little unnerving and Bucky wants to know what he's thinking.
"That sucks."
"What? That's all you have to say?" Bucky doesn't mean to say this. He's glad Steve doesn't say more, really.
"Oh, uh. I mean, you don't really look like you like talking about it. Sorry. I'm not great at..."
"No. No, that's fine. Sorry. I don't know why I said that." They go silent for a minute; both uncomfortable, Bucky kicking himself for making everything awful. He racks his brain for something to say, but Steve beats him to it.
"You're a senior right?"
"Uh, yeah. You?"
"Yeah." The pause is still uncomfortable, and Bucky asks what he asked Natasha earlier in the night.
"So what's your deal? Why are you so busy all the time?"
"I'm taking a lot of work intensive classes."
"What kind of classes?"
"Art, mostly. One art history class, taught by Professor Coulson, and a couple of studio art classes, painting, drawing, computer art."
"So you're an artist I take it?" Steve laughs and Bucky is relieved that some of the tension they'd built up was being released.
"Yeah, I guess so. But these classes are really hard, and I'm not really sure how I'm going to get through it."
"Why not?"
"Well, I'm completely lost in this computer art class. And painting's not really my thing. I've always been much better at drawing, but this class is a lot harder than I thought it'd be. The techniques she is teaching us are a little beyond my grasp right now, which I guess is the point of taking a drawing class."
"Have you always liked to draw?"
"Yeah."
"That's cool. I'd like to see some of your stuff some time."
"Yeah. So what are you here for?"
"Ah, well. I ended up going with a history degree. I don't know, I didn't really find anything I was super into and then I realized I'd taken enough classes to meet the requirements. I won't be able to do anything with it, but I guess I have it."
"That's cool. I wonder why we've never taken the same classes. Coulson teaches a bunch of different history classes, and I've taken some of them."
"Coulson's the professor who always has morning classes. I don't do mornings." Steve laughs and it makes Bucky smile because Steve has a nice laugh. The eye wrinkles are deeper when Steve laughs. They talk for an hour, about school and about their lives outside of school (Steve doesn't have much of one, Bucky learns).
Pretty soon everyone is coming back inside cheering and hollering and clapping Clint on the back. He of course won by a landslide, even drunk off his ass. He, Natasha and Sam come over to where Steve and Bucky are sitting in the kitchen. Sam is obviously done for, stumbling and slurring. Natasha asks Steve if he needs help getting him home, but Steve says he's got it and tells them that he'll see them all later and thanks Natasha for the invite. Bucky waves, but doesn't say anything. He's drunk enough to blurt out that he'd rather Steve go home with him, but sober enough to know that's not how he wants that to happen. He decides that being that sober is no longer necessary now that Steve's gone and he threatens to kick Natasha's ass if she doesn't stop pestering him about their conversation and get him another beer.
He doesn't remember the rest of the night after that when he wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache curled up on Clint's bedroom floor. He sits up and sees Nat and Clint sprawled over the bed, their limbs intertwined and lacking any hint of clothing. Afternoon light is pouring through the crack in the curtains and Bucky needs to find water, or puke, or both. He makes it as far as the bathroom before deciding water can wait.
When he comes out Natasha is making coffee in the kitchen, somehow looking like the previous night had never happened; perfect as always. The same can't be said for the house. It's completely trashed. He knows he'll probably end up staying long enough to help clean up, his usual Saturday activity after his usual Friday night activity. He pulls the duct tape on the cupboards off to get a glass and fills it with water. It helps make the world a little clearer, but doesn't alleviate the pain as much as he'd like it to.
"Why was I in the bedroom?"
"You didn't make it the whole night. Clint put you on the bed a few hours before everyone left."
"I wasn't on the bed."
"Yeah. He insisted you not be there with us, so he moved you to the floor. I suggested we leave you there and take off your clothes to see what happened when you woke up."
"You're the devil incarnate."
She smiles and hands him a cup of hot coffee.
"Luckily you've got your guardian angel."
"Shit. I'm fucked if he's my guardian angel."
"That's accurate."
Clint stumbles into the kitchen at that point. He looks at them both and then signs "stop talking in Russian". Natasha signs back "stop caring." Clint makes eggs for the three of them and they chat animatedly in sign language. Natasha fills Bucky in on what happened after he passed out, the only interesting thing being Clint breaking his hearing aids in some idiotic show of masculinity. He refuses to elaborate on what exactly happened, but it's obvious he did something exceedingly stupid. They finish breakfast and watch TV for a while before cleaning up the aftermath.
Bucky gets home to an empty apartment and spends the rest of the night lying in bed watching TV on his computer. He falls asleep early and wakes up late on Sunday. It's raining, and he doesn't feel like going anywhere so he works on the few reading assignments his teachers assigned. It's not until late in the evening that he gets a text from Natasha.
Nat Roma 7:32
So you had a lot to say before you passed out.
Me 7:32
??
Nat Roma 7:33
When r u going to ask Steve out?
Me 7:35
what the hell r u talking abt?
Nat Roma 7:35
U kept saying u were going to have him
Nat Roma 7:40
Come on Barnes. U know u want him. Just ask him out
Me 7:41
I don't know that that's a thing that I know
Nat Roma 7:41
Stop quoting shit and balls up. I bet he'd do those nudes you were wanting the other night
Me 7:41
WHAT NUDES???
Me 7:43
NAT WHAT NUDES?
Nat Roma 7:45
U told me u wanted him to paint u and ur "glory and all of its gloryness" then u told me that ur penis is ur glory. Then u puked in the kitchen sink.
Me 7:46
And ur telling me this now because?
Nat Roma 7:47
Didn't want Clint to know. Just ask him out, okay? He's a really great, cute little weirdo. And he won't make the first move.
Bucky doesn't feel like replying to her anymore. He doesn't know why he would have said those things. He's definitely attracted to Steve, but he doesn't really even know him. They've had two classes together, and during those they didn't even really talk, one breakfast during which they didn't even really talk, and 1 hour where they talked a lot. Bucky's had plenty of one night stands and slept with people he's had little interest in, but he's also fairly certain he wouldn't be talking about someone he barely knows painting him nude. But he also does feel safe around Steve for some reason. He told him about his arm for no particular reason and without any hesitation.
Steve has to have some sort of magic voodoo going on around him, because Bucky has never before in his life acted the way he's been acting when Steve is involved. And he hasn't even acted out that much. Natasha is just being irritating about the whole thing. He can't figure out how he feels about Steve if he has an annoying ginger buzzing in his ear all the time. His plan is to ask Steve to breakfast on Tuesday if Steve doesn't bolt again. It's not going to be a date. Bucky can't imagine going on a date at 9 in the morning. He just wants to get to know Steve a little better, hopefully become friends. He is indeed a cute little weirdo.
Tuesday finally arrives, and Bucky is so nervous about asking Steve if he wants to go to breakfast (he can't believe he's nervous about asking someone to breakfast) that he gets to class early. He's the first person there, and he sits in the empty hall for several minutes wishing he'd been able to sleep a little longer. The door swings open, startling Bucky. Professor Coulson walks in and looks at Bucky surprised.
"I didn't think anyone would be here yet."
"Yeah, I got an early start today."
"Really? Dr. Potts seems to be very wrong about you."
"What?"
"She was saying you'd probably be missing more classes than not. Not a morning person and all."
"Dr. Potts talks about me?"
"She takes a special interest in her advisees, and we talk about a lot of different things." He smiles.
"So was it the great and mighty stare-down that got you in the end?"
"Oh god, I don't know how she does it. I don't intimidate easily. She's got something powerful going on."
Coulson laughs and goes down to his desk. He unpacks his computer and starts to set up for the lecture for that day. Bucky considers asking him about Steve, but decides he's getting desperate and he also doesn't want Coulson to mention it in case he and Steve really are as close as the little guy says they are. The door opens again and Steve walks through it this time. He looks like he didn't sleep at all last night, and Bucky wouldn't have been surprised if both cups of coffee were for him. They aren't, he smiles at Bucky and goes down to where Coulson is connection his computer to the projector and hands him the second cup of coffee. They chat quietly for a few minutes, too quiet for Bucky to hear (not that he's trying to eaves drop or anything) then he comes back up to where Bucky is sitting and takes his usual seat beside him.
"I didn't think you'd be here this early or I would have gotten you one too."
"Thanks. It took a little less time to get ready this morning for some reason."
"Well, welcome to a little earlier in the morning." Steve smiles as he digs through his bag. He pulls out another Monster and makes his Monster Monstrosity. Bucky laughs at him.
"Why? Why do you drink that?"
"It's the only way I can stay awake."
"Really? Normal caffeine doesn't do it for you? I mean, you're a little guy. Regular coffee should keep you awake."
"It used to. It doesn't anymore."
"You're gonna keel over one day. I can see it now," he flings his arm over Steve's shoulders, looks off into the distance and sweeps his hand across the empty space in front of them "the paramedics will show up, I'll have to tell them you drank that shit. They'll just shake their heads and say 'idiot'. Your head stone will read 'Beloved son - good friend - excellent student - body too toxic to cremate - buried in 6 feet of cement'."
"That's a lot to put on a headstone."
"Monster will probably sponsor it. How many of those do you drink anyways?"
"I plead the 5th."
"Exactly." He grins at Steve and Steve grins back. "Hey, do you want to get breakfast again after class?"
"I can't. I have another class right after."
"Oh. Oh, that's why you ran out on Thursday."
"Yeah."
"Okay. You free for lunch?"
"I usually eat in the studio."
"Wow, you weren't kidding about being busy? How do you manage?" Steve simply grins and raises his Monster Monstrosity in cheers before taking a sip.
"Jesus, Steve."
"I can do dinner probably." Steve says thoughtfully. "I have some ideas for the project I'd like to run by you anyways."
Coulson greets the class and starts the day's lesson. The pair turn their attention forward and Bucky starts taking notes. He pauses when Steve slips a piece of paper onto his notebook. It's his number in nearly illegible handwriting, then his number in neater handwriting. Underneath that it says "Sorry. I write fast. Text me this afternoon and we'll figure out a time." Bucky tries really hard to hide his smile, he does. He's sure he just ends up making some stupid face.
Me 5:10
Hey, what time are you available?
Me 5:10
This is Bucky btw
Steve Rogers 5:45
Sorry, I was in class. I'm free now if you're hungry. Thai sound good?
Me 5:47
Thai sounds great.
Steve Rogers 5:48
Cool. Meet me outside of the art hall in about an hour?
Me 5:48
Ok
Bucky waits until the last possible minute to leave his apartment. He doesn't want to get there too early and seem too eager. He'd grown increasingly nervous in the 45 minutes between setting the time and the time actually arriving. He doesn't exactly know how, but his casual breakfast with a possible friend turned into dinner with the guy he thinks he likes in about 2 seconds. And he knows that avoiding being the eager beaver is a solid plus in the "actually likes this guy" column (granted, the "doesn't like this guy" column still remains empty at this point), but he can't help it, his body won't let him get there early.
It turns out to be a moot point anyways because Bucky is still standing outside of the art hall Steve-less 20 minutes after the hour has passed. He considered walking around the building to make sure Steve wasn't waiting for him at another entrance, but he didn't want to risk Steve showing up and Bucky not being there so he’s resolved to check his phone every 30 seconds to make sure he doesn't miss a text from Steve.
He's in the middle of drafting a text (he figures 20 minutes is an appropriate amount of time to ask someone where they are without coming off as eager) when Steve finally does show up. His cheeks are red from the cold and his hair is sticking out every which way and he's breathing heavily. Bucky realizes it's a little too heavily when Steve tries to talk and it just comes out in wheezes. He moves to make sure Steve's okay, concern creasing his face, but Steve holds up a finger and digs an inhaler out of his pocket.
"Hey. Sorry. I lost track of time and ran to get some food" Steve holds up the plastic bag in his other hand in way of proof. "It might be a little jumbled, but I swear it's the best Thai food around campus."
Bucky has no idea why, but he starts to laugh. Steve's face falls, and Bucky doesn't know how to explain so he just takes the bag from Steve and asks him to lead the way, grinning widely. Steve smiles and jogs up the few steps to the door. He takes out a key ring, filled with keys, and unlocks the front door. Before Bucky can ask, he explains that they can't keep the building unlocked during off hours, but art students get a key so they can work whenever they have time.
The building is cold, it's age letting the heat out when there isn't any heat running. Bucky can imagine it gets hot during the summer, much like the other buildings on campus built when the school was founded. It's also dark, but Steve seems to know exactly where he's going, turning around many corners and making Bucky sure he'd never be able to find wherever they're goingon his own. The part of his brain that watches way too many procedural cop shows starts to think that maybe Steve is leading him to some sort of secret lair where he's going to keep him locked up for his own personal enjoyment. The part of his brain that thinks he probably might have a thing for Steve doesn't mind the idea so much. The combination has Bucky worried and he decides he probably needs to see a shrink.
They finally get to a hallway lined with doors on either side. Steve leads him to the end of the hallway where he stops at one door and pulls out his massive (Erica, I almost wrote "dick" impulsively. i'm laughing so hard rn) key ring and unlocks the door. Steve shoots Bucky a half smile and shrugs his shoulders a little.
"Well, here we are."
The room he walks into is small. The walls are white, but he can hardly tell because they're almost completely covered in various posters and papers. Bucky recognizes some of the works in the posters, but not all of them. They're each a completely different style, but entirely beautiful in their own way. The papers the cover the rest of the space, and much of the posters are sketches in charcoal, pen, colored pencil. Some are of people, obviously posing for a class. Some are of landscapes, places Bucky recognizes from around the city (there's one that's clearly from the roof of Clint's house, one of Bucky's favorite places in the city). There are others that are just inanimate objects. Every sketch has the unmistakable scrawl belonging to the initials in the corner. "SR"
"Wow, you did these?"
"Yeah."
Steve rubs the back of his neck as he looks up at them, an embarrassed smile on his face. Seeing how talented Steve is cinches it for Bucky. He didn't even know he liked artists, but knowing that Steve is capable of what he sees taped over obvious masters' works (and quite frankly, outshining them in Bucky's opinion) just makes Bucky want Steve in a way he didn't think was possible.
"Are you hungry?"
"Huh?"
"Food?"Steve looks pointedly at the forgotten bag in Bucky's hand.
"Oh, right. Yeah." He looks around for a spot to put it, but every surface is covered in art supplies. Steve clears a spot and takes the bag from Bucky.
"I hope you don't mind eating from the cartons, I don't have any plates here."
"I don't think I even own plates, so you're good."
They sit and eat in silence for a while. Bucky takes the time to investigate his surroundings further from his position on floor. Steve had offered the only chair to him, but Bucky insisted he was fine. In addition to the art on the walls, there are a number of canvases on the floor, facing the wall they're leaning against so Bucky can't see what's on them. The workbench is in chaos. Different tools and supplies are spread out over the entire bench, papers stacked precariously in various places. Bucky isn't sure how Steve gets anything done, and then he realizes he has a question.
"Is this just your space?"
"Mhm." Steve mumbles around a mouthful of food.
"How'd you manage that?"
"I rent it out. Well, one of my professors rents it out." He sheepishly avoids Bucky's eyes. It's obvious he's embarrassed about that part, and Bucky wants to know why, but he doesn't feel like he should ask.
"That's cool." Refusing to settle back into the silence he adds "So what's your idea for the project?"
Steve lights up for a second before reeling the excitement in to something more humble. Bucky doesn't understand why he would do that. He'd much rather Steve stay excited.
"Well, I was, uh, thinking I have this other art project due 2 weeks earlier and we're studying political art in the same time period, and I talked to Phil and he said it would be fine if I turned that in for his assignment with a 5 page rationale."
"It's part of the propaganda unit, right?"
"Yeah."
"Are you going to make some bad ass poster calling all men to protect their country?"
Steve laughs a full and genuine laugh, making Bucky's stomach flutter.
"That's the idea. So what do you think?"
"I think that sounds awesome. Do you have any specifics yet?"
"Not really, I'm open to suggestions."
"What are the requirements for your other class?"
"There aren't many. It's loose enough that I can use our class as the deciding factor in what the end product will be, and I just gotta show my process and that I used the techniques we'll learn about."
"How do you do that?"
"Sketches, mostly. I'll take a couple of pictures when I'm actually painting. It has to end up looking like an actual piece from WWII, which is where the technique comes in. She's super flexible and mostly just wants us to keep practicing."
"Alright. Well that works out pretty well."
"It does."
"So you're an art student, but you've taken a bunch of history classes? Why's that?"
"I've taken a few of Phil's classes. I ended up in one of them freshman year and really liked it. I tried another one second semester, but the professor sucked so I dropped the class."
"Why did you pick the subject up again?"
"He was teaching another one, and his specialty is a time period I'm interested in, and none of his classes conflicted with any of the other courses I needed. Plus some of they were pre recs for my art classes."
"That's cool. He does mostly WWII stuff, right?"
"Yeah. It was an interesting time period, a lot was going on."
Bucky laughs.
"To say the least."
They talk some more about school, the different classes they've taken, what professors they liked and what professors they hated. Complaints about the administration and how hard it was to get anything done with them. Steve talks about Sam, they were roommates sophomore year, and how they moved into a place off campus second semester. They've been in the same apartment since then.
"Don't you guys go back home during the summer?"
"Sam does for a little bit, but he's usually got some job keeping him here. I don't really have a place to go back to."
"Yeah?"
"My mom passed the summer before sophomore year."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's alright. She was sick for a really long time. I got to be with her in the last two months. But it means Brooklyn isn't really home anymore."
"You're from Brooklyn?"
"Yeah."
"Me too."
They realize they grew up pretty close to each other, but just far enough to end up in different schools. They trade stories and commiserate about their shitty neighborhoods. Bucky finds it hard to believe Steve got into so many fights, him being so small and frail looking, but he can also see the fire in his eyes when he talks about the shitty people he'd encounter. Bucky got into his own share of fights, but rarely for things as noble as what Steve was telling him. He feels like a pretty shitty person in comparison, even though he'd definitely stood up for those who couldn't on a number of occasions, Steve just put him to shame.
The conversation is flowing so naturally that Bucky doesn't even think before he talks, he tells Steve things he hasn't told anyone before. About growing up knowing he was into guys as well as gals and having to hide that. Having his first boy crush beat the shit out of him when he tried to make a move. About having to lie and say it was just a joke gone horribly wrong. About having to live with a mangled arm because of it.
"That's why you don't like talking about?"
"Yup. It's not the greatest memory; coming out and having your arm shut in a car door repeatedly until it's all shattered and cut up. I don't even know why I liked him, he was the ultimate asshole. We were friends, but he was just the worst bully you'd ever met and I got caught up in it because of a stupid crush. After that though I was done. Obviously."
Bucky starts to get worried he's shared too much as he sits in Steve's silence. He starts to kick himself for opening up about something so personal so soon. Nat didn’t even learn about it until they’d known each other for two years.
But Steve finally looks at Bucky. It’s not pity, something Bucky has grown to hate over the years and ultimately is the reason he doesn’t tell people about it. Steve looks sad, and Bucky is completely unprepared for it.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you, Buck. He was an asshole, and that never should have happened.”
Bucky blinks, then smiles. Steve looks at him uneasily, and the smile turns to a grin.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You called me Buck.”
“Oh. Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“No, I like it.”
Steve smiles at him and finishes his carton of noodles before tossing it into the trash by his seat. He sighs heavily and looks forlornly at the desk, then back at Bucky who’s still smiling and looking a bit dopey. It’s a good look on him, or so he’s been told. He’s never been able to pull it off on purpose, but every once in a while something will happen and he’s one of the seven dwarves.
“You want a beer?”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“I do, but I don’t like the idea of you leaving.”
“Really?”
Steve shrugs his shoulders.
“I could use a reference anyways.”
He reaches under the desk and Bucky notices there’s a mini fridge tucked in the back corner. Bucky takes the beer and bottle opener offered to him. It’s surprisingly good beer, and he settles back, leaning his head against the wall. He’s very aware of what this looks like, and he’s very aware that it’s the sexiest thing he can do with all of his clothes on. If Steve is going to ask him to stay and get drunk with him, Bucky is going to stay and get drunk with him. He’s also pretty sure “you want a beer” is clearly a first move, and Natasha was wrong.
“Reference?”
“Do you mind?”
“Mind what?”
“If I draw you.”
Clearly.
“No, not at all. Do you want me to, I don’t know, pose? Or something?”
Steve looks at him critically, and Bucky swears Steve is getting a little turned on. He can’t help but smirk a little.
“No, just be natural. Comfortable.”
Bucky readjusts a little. Just because it’s his casual look doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the most comfortable. He ends up with his legs crossed and his beer in his lap, his back braced by the wall, looking up at Steve who grabs a sketch pad and a pencil. He crosses his own legs, hooking his foot over his knee and props the pad up on his leg. The pencil begins to fly over the paper in big swooping motions before moving into smaller ones. The only sound in the room is the pointed graphite against paper. Steve is focused on the task at hand, so Bucky is free to let his eyes roam.
The blonde sitting before him definitely isn’t the blonde he’s gotten to know over the last few weeks. He’s still got the same blue eyes, sandy hair that falls in his face, tiny, skinny body. All things Bucky has found attractive from the start. But now it’s different. Now Steve’s eyes are looking intently at the paper in his lap, squinting occasionally bringing out those smile wrinkles in a completely different and somehow more beautiful way. His hand moves across the page like he’s on a mission from god.
Bucky is quickly discovering he likes this Steve. The one who isn’t focusing on things that aren’t important in the long scheme of things, like his stupid history class (Bucky knows it’s not fair to call the class stupid because it isn’t, but compare to this it is). The one who is absorbed into something he clearly loves.
He can tell Steve loves it by his small smile. Why didn’t he notice that before? It’s probably the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he didn’t notice it immediately. Steve’s got just the slightest quirk of his lips, and the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes aren’t there only when he’s squinting. They’re less defined, but they’re still there.
When the hell did Bucky become obsessed with eye wrinkles?
“You can move you know.”
“What?”
“If you wanted to drink, you can move. You haven’t had any.”
Bucky smiles slyly.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Are you such a lightweight that one beer is going to get you drunk?”
“Hmph. I’m sure that’s all it takes for you.” He mumbles into his beer.
“Jabs about my size, how original.”
Bucky starts to freak out thinking he took it too far, and is about to apologize when he see Steve is smiling at him. He laughs, relieved, and takes another drink.
“Also, that’s the best you could come up with?”
“Hey, I’m a little out of my element here. You keep staring at me and it’s weird.”
“No going back now.”
Steve smiles and Bucky nurses his drink as they settle into a comfortable silence. Steve finally sets his pencil down and looks over his work. He also looks over Bucky, but Bucky senses it has nothing to do with the sketch in his lap and everything to do with the other thing in his lap.
"Wanna come take a look?"
There is absolutely some sort of glint in Steve's eye, and Bucky can't help but feel beckoned. He stands and takes the single step to stand next to Steve. The sketch is amazing. He's never seen a drawing of himself, but he's pretty sure it's far greater than any picture of him in existence, which is saying something since he's quite photogenic (even when drunk and passed out, much to Natasha's irritation).
"Well, I'm impressed."
Bucky leans a little closer to the page to see more of the detail. It's extraordinary how much Steve was able to cram into such a quick sketch. After several seconds of appreciation he becomes very aware of how close his face is to Steve's. He turns to look at him only to find him with raised eyebrow and a half smile. Without distancing himself he asks
"What's your deal?"
Steve's smile seems to turn into a cocky smirk, but his eyes say something different. THAT look is going to be the death of Bucky, he's sure.
"I seem to have succeeded in getting you very close."
"It certainly looks that way."
"I think I'm gonna do something about that."
"I think you should."
And with that Steve leans forward agonizingly slowly. He holds Bucky's gaze until the point where they both were starting to get cross eyed and he moves to look down at Bucky's lips, and licks his own. Bucky's heart is racing. It takes everything he has not to surge forward and devour Steve. No, Steve is very much in control of this moment, and it excites the hell out of Bucky. More than anything else Bucky has ever experienced.
He nearly whimpers as Steve seems to pause, their lips brushing with each shaky inhale. His lips part involuntarily, getting desperate. Finally the gap is closed and Bucky feels like he is going to explode. Steve’s lips are a little chapped and somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind he tells himself to remind Steve to drink more water and use Chap Stick when he went outside, but he barely registers the thought. He tastes almost sweet. Bucky wills Steve to go further, deeper into the kiss, but when it’s clear he won’t Bucky takes over. He brushes his fingers against Steve’s cheek as he moves to cup the back of his head.
Steve stands and faces him. The difference in height doesn’t change that much, but Bucky is able to pull him closer so their bodies are flush against one another. Every particle in his body tingles as Steve slipps his tongue past his lips. Their breathing gets heavier and their hands grabbier. Bucky moves to go deeper into the kiss and their teeth clash painfully causing Steve to pull back with a gasp.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”
Bucky looks mortified and worried. Steve simply laughs, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that way.
“No, no. It’s fine.”
He smiles fondly up at Bucky.
“I like you.”
Bucky smiles back.
“I like you too.”
A thought occurs to him and he guffaws (much to his embarrassment).
“What?”
“Natasha is so going to eat her words.”
“What?”
“She told me you wouldn’t make the first move.”
“Ah, so she’s been talking to you too?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yup. Keeps saying ‘Steve, literally all you have to do is to wait naked for him in his bed.’”
He then grows a particular shade of red as he registers what he’s just said.
“Ah, that, ah, not that I think…she just…I’m not…”
Bucky saves him and pecks him on the lips.
“I know Tasha, and there’s time enough for all of that. Though, honestly, that absolutely would have worked.”
“Really?”
“Fuck yes. I actually think I had a dream about that the other night.”
“No you didn’t.”
“You don’t know what I dream about!”
“You dream about tiny white boys laying naked in your bed?”
“It just so happens that I do. Now.”
“Right.”
“You know what, just take it. Punk.”
“That’s what he said.”
Bucky tries to come back with something witty (him being him and always having a witty come back), but falls short and is left opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He looks down at the blonde in his arms, who is smirking up at him. There’s nothing that could have prepared him for tonight. When he was standing outside of the building in the cold for 20 minutes, he never would have thought he’d be drawn and then making out with the artist. The perfectly adorable, quirky, oddly hot artist he’d been crushing on. He leans in to kiss him again, but Steve’s phone goes off. The shorter man groans and leans his forehead against Bucky’s chest.
“Is that an alarm for something?”
“Yeah, the end of my study break.”
“This was a study break? You have more to do tonight?”
“Yeah. Lot’s more, actually. Fuck. I’m really sorry.”
“You don’t want to blow it off and come home with me?”
“I really, really, really do. But I really can’t.”
“Well shit.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, this is actually good.”
He smiles when Steve looks puzzled.
“Now you have to see me again. Later.”
“I suppose I do.”
Bucky leans down to kiss Steve again. He tugs him as close as possible, lifting him to his tip toes. When they break, Steve’s a little glassy eyed.
“Good night Steve.”
Bucky smiled at him and went out the door. He knew he wouldn’t leave if he didn’t do it right then. As he shuts the door Steve yells “So fucking rude!” and he laughs out loud.
Bucky nearly gasps in the fresh air when he gets outside. It was rude. To both of them. But he knew that if he didn't get out of there fast he wouldn't be leaving at all and then Steve will have to deal with not having his homework done. Which is something Bucky could deal with, but he's pretty sure Steve isn't the type to disappoint his professors.
He's half way home when he wins the argument with himself and texts Steve.
Me 10:15
So that'll be a thing now, yes?
Steve 10:15
YES!
Bucky laughs at the instant response, the one he was hoping for. Now he has Steve. And he's beyond excited. He catches himself doing the stupid hop in his step thing all the way home. He has Steve. Who knew he’d be so excited about having Steve?
*****
The sun is peaking through Bucky’s window. He’d forgotten to close his special black out curtains he got specifically so he wouldn’t wake up at god knows when on a Saturday, but he’d forgotten so here he is: lying in bed with a smile on his face because waking up early enough to see the sun make Steve glow like the angel he has to be (there’s no way Bucky thinks Steve is some regular human) is absolutely worth it.
Steve’s still asleep. He’d gotten in really late last night but found burst of energy. Bucky’s quite proud of himself for creating that burst. He’s not ashamed to admit that laying sprawled on the couch last night in a pair of Steve’s boxers (definitely a little tight, definitely part of the plan) and nothing else waiting for Steve to get to the apartment was absolutely a plan to make sure Steve didn’t go straight to sleep, and he’s absolutely not ashamed to let the sense of accomplishment puff up his chest.
It’s been a few weeks since that first night in the studio. They’ve spent nearly every night together, both of them having opposite schedules and unable to see each other very much during the week. Every weekend is spent shut into Bucky’s apartment, not wanting to have to work around Sam in Steve’s, just being together. Somehow they melded the new and exciting with the familiar and comfortable, and they exist in both spaces simultaneously. Bucky had never had a relationship like this one; it was the most intense and most easy thing Bucky had ever experienced.
He considers getting up and shutting the curtains, but the bed is warm and Steve is close and he just shuts his eyes and goes back to sleep.
“…7, 8, 9, 10, 11…”
“What the hell are you counting?”
“Sssshhh. …12, 13, 14, 15”
Bucky blinks his eyes. It’s significantly later and Steve is laying on his back with his eyes close, counting. Bucky doesn’t know what he’s counting. He wants to know what he’s counting. He was shushed by the counting man. Bucky is fine with the shush game, he’s very good at it. He shushedly plants a huge kiss on the counting man’s counting lips and there is not more counting. Steve wins though as he extracts a decidedly not shushed moan from Bucky doing that thing.
“What are you counting?”
“Seconds.”
“Seconds?”
“Seconds.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see how long it took.”
“How long what took?”
Steve turns to look at Bucky with that winning smile.
“How long it took from when I kissed you to when you kissed me back.”
“You go around kissing unconscious guys a lot?”
“No. Just you.”
“I’m into it. What time is it?”
“It’s almost 3.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“Not long. Probably about 5 minutes.”
Steve snakes his hand up Bucky’s chest. He kisses his chin, right under his ear, the place that makes Bucky shiver every time. Slowly and deliberately he moves down his neck, to his collar bone, down his shoulder over the scarred skin.
The first time the smaller man did this Bucky had pulled away. He’d accepted that the deformity was there, and that anyone he slept with would see it, but he did his very best to leave it ignored. And it seemed like everyone he had slept with before was content with ignoring it, polite enough to not talk about it or acknowledge it. But not Steve. Steve had run his fingers over every dip, trailed soft kisses across his entire arm, and now Bucky not only lets it happen, but enjoys knowing that Steve thinks it’s okay. That his imperfection is something to be treasured; because that’s what Steve does: he treasures it.
Bucky’s phone beeps alerting him to a new text. Ignoring it, he runs his free hand through Steve’s hair and gently leads him back up to his own lips. His scarred arm is now available to wrap around Steve’s waist and pull him closer. The phone beeps again and Bucky groans.
“It’s done that a bunch of times since I woke up. I’m pretty that’s what woke me up in the first place, actually.”
“Whoever it is needs to shut up.” Bucky mumbles lazily into Steve’s mouth. He presses in again, but the phone persists. He flings his arm violently over to the night stand to grab the offending technology and nearly crushes it. There are 10 new messages
Nat Roma 1:32
What r u doing tonight?
Nat Roma 1:40
U should come to Clint’s party
Nat Roma 1:41
A bunch of his meathead friends are gonna be here and u can’t leave me all alone.
Nat Roma 1:45
Jesus, Barnes. R u still asleep?!
Nat Roma 1:46
U have to come tonight. It’s gonna be a lot of fun and uve been way too busy. I haven’t seen u at one of these in forever. Idek who u r anymore.
Nat Roma 2:26
I’m gonna get Steve to come. U can make ur move tonight.
Nat Roma 2:48
Uve been going on and on about ur class with Steve and how great Steve is. TONIGHT IS YOUR CHANCE!
Nat Roma 2:52
I can’t believe ur still asleep.
Nat Roma 2:52
It’s almost 3. Wake up and get a life Barnes.
Nat Roma 2:53
Good for nothing oaf.
Bucky reads over the texts again.
“Hey Steve, did you tell Nat about us?”
“No, I figured you’d say something.”
“I thought you would do it.”
“I didn’t do it.
“Neither did I.”
They look at each other, both thinking about what exactly this means. It takes there sleep, and kiss addled minds a moment to work it out.
“Nat’s gonna kill me.” Bucky laughs.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell her about you. This has been going on for weeks and she doesn’t know. Oh god, that means that this whole time every time we talk about you she thinks you’re just the kid from my class that I have a crush on and she’s actually been trying to push me on to you. I thought she knew!”
“You guys talk about me?”
Bucky looks at Steve incredulously.
“Of course we do. Of course I do.”
“But you didn’t tell her about us?”
“Look, punk. I thought you would tell her because you guys are also friends and you guys also talk and she kept saying that you were talking a lot about me so I figured you’d told her.”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“We’ve covered that.” Bucky thinks for a moment. “Sam knows, right?”
“Uhh, maybe?”
“You didn’t tell Sam?”
“I didn’t not tell Sam. I just, sort of, never said anything. It’s not like it’s a secret. And I’m always over here, so you’re never there.”
“Because you didn’t want to bother Sam, as in you didn’t want Sam to know?” Bucky starts to freak out. Bucky didn’t mention it to Nat because he thought he didn’t have to. He’s been in his own world with Steve, and these things hadn’t even occurred to him; announcing their involvement, the possibility that Steve doesn’t want to announce their involvement, the possibility that Steve is just in this for the fun of it and not because it’s Bucky. Because Bucky is in it for Steve; he wants Steve and they’re having so much fun but it’s for Steve. What if Steve isn’t as interested in Bucky? What if Steve is -
“I’d rather not have Sam hear…how good you make me feel…at all hours of the day and night. I honestly haven’t even given other people that much thought in all of this. I guess we should tell people, right? I mean, that’s what you do when you’re in a relationship?”
“We’re in a relationship?”
“Oh, uh, I mean…We don’t have to…I didn’t mean to…I mean, if you’re…I’m not…I just was…”
Bucky saves him from spiraling into a stammering pile of mush, which has been known to happen, by kissing him (the usual remedy).
“I’m happy – no, ecstatic that we’re in a relationship. I guess we haven’t really talked about it.”
“No, we haven’t. With anyone. At all. Not even us. What the hell have we been doing for the last few weeks?”
“Things that would keep Sam awake if we stayed at your place.” Bucky smirked. “Plus you’ve been crazy busy, I’ve been pretty busy. And now we’re here.”
“Is this how relationships usually work? Have I been doing it wrong?”
“No. I’ve never had a relationship like this.”
“Well then.”
“Well then.”
They smile and Bucky kisses Steve. For a moment they think they’ll finally get to go through what they started, but Bucky’s phone rings. He answers it with so much anger that Steve laughs.
“WHAT?”
“Finally. How long have you been asleep?”
“What do you want from me?”
“Jeez, calm down. It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon. You need to be up. It’s not good to sleep for that long.”
“I haven’t been asleep for that long. What do you want?”
“Did you get my texts? Steve’s gonna be there tonight. You can finally do something about this ridiculous crush you have and I can stop hearing about it.”
“I got your texts. I’ll go to your party. I’ll make a move on Steve. Can I please get some peace and quiet? I’ve got something very important going on right now and need to go.”
“What the hell? Barnes, you don’t have anything important going on. Get your ass out of bed.”
“Yes sir.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
He hangs up and sighs deeply. But just as he’s about to speak, Steve’s phone rings. He groans and buries his head in Steve’s side. Steve laughs and answers the phone.
“Hey Nat.”
“Finally, someone happy today. What are you doing tonight?”
Steve looks at Bucky, who is peering up at him from under the covers he’d wriggled under. It’s then that Bucky gets this evil grin and Steve knows he’s done for. Bucky pulls the covers completely over his head and slowly slinks the several inches to Steve’s crotch. He inhales sharply.
“You okay, Steve?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m, aaahhhh, yes. I’m fine. I’m just, a little, in the middle of, ah, something.”
“You work way too hard old man, come to Clint’s party tonight. It’ll be good for you; good beer, good food, great company. Please come!”
"Mmmm, yeah. Yeah, yeah. I’ll, ahhh ha ha, come. Oh god, I have to go Nat.”
And that was the last coherent sentence Steve could string together for at least the next two hours, because Bucky definitely kept him in the middle of something.
“I need to stop by my place before going over. Sam sent a frantic text about something or other being broken or something while we were in the shower. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“He can’t live without you, huh?” Bucky grins over at Steve.
“Nope, utterly helpless.”
Bucky puffed up his chest and made his voice all gruff and boomy.
“Well, if you ever need a big, strong man to come and fix stuff for you guys I’m around”
“I don’t need no man around, I’m pretty good with tools myself.”
Bucky let the puff of air out with a laugh.
“Oh I know, and you can work my tool any day, all day.”
“Oh my god, I have to go now.”
Bucky laughs again and kisses Steve on the forehead. He pats his behind on the way out, and shuts the door behind the little man. The absence is noticed immediately, so Bucky putters around the apartment cleaning and rearranging things. It would be easier if he knew he wasn’t going to see Steve in a couple of hours. He could get into something, but it doesn’t seem worth it. Instead he calls Natasha and asks if it’s alright to go over early.
On the bus ride over he gets a text from Steve.
Little Punk Rogers 7:30
Sam has been talking you up to me for the last hour and a half
Me 7:31
Has he? Have u been swayed into falling for me yet?
Little Punk Rogers 7:34
Honestly, the way he’s going on, I’m pretty sure HE’S the one that’s fallen for you
Me 7:34
No, that simply will not do. I shant be courted by any other than u. And only whilst listening to U2
Little Punk Rogers 7:36
I just choked on my dinner you ass hat.
Me 7:37
Ass hat? Good job. I’m proud of that.
Me 7:37
So u haven’t told him yet?
Little Punk Rogers 7:38
No. It’s actually kind of fun. I haven’t told him that I’m not, I just haven’t said anything.
Me 7:39
Hmmm. How do u feel about PDA?
Little Punk Rogers 7:39
Not my favorite, but fine. Why? What do you have planned?
Me 7:41
I was just trying to think of a way to screw with Nat. Won’t be through PDA. I’ll come up with something
Little Punk Rogers 7:43
I’m sure you will
Bucky gets off the bus and walks the short way to Clint’s house. There he finds Natasha laying on the couch watching TV. Bucky lifts her feet so he can sit and then rests them on his lap. It seems to be just them so he slips into Russian when he speaks.
“Where’s Clint?”
“One last beer run.”
“Didn’t go with him?”
“It’s his party, I’m just here to look pretty.”
“Right. If you’re ever somewhere just to look pretty everyone needs to be very, very afraid of what’s going to happen next.”
“That’s right. So, what? Got up late and couldn’t stand being in the house?”
“Got up late, was busy, then I wasn’t busy and couldn’t stand being in the house anymore.”
“Why are you so busy all of the sudden? I feel like every weekend you’ve been busy for the last few weeks. What gives?”
“I’ve been busy.”
Hmph. So are you going to ask Steve out tonight?”
“How can I? You’ve already asked him out.”
“I asked him to come here so you could ask him out.”
“Not gonna ask him out.”
Natasha bolts upright and glares at Bucky like he’d never seen her glare before. It’s like the more evil version of what Dr. Potts did, but unlike the situation with Dr. Potts, Bucky knows something that Natasha doesn’t, so all he does is raise an eyebrow.
“God dammit Barnes!” She yells in English. “I have been working so hard to get the two of you together and neither of you will do anything about it. Steve isn’t going to pursue you, he’s too shy for that. You have to be the one to make the first move. I know you both want to do it. So just fucking do it!”
“I’m not gonna ask him out.”
He ducks to dodge a pillow being hurled at his head.
“Hey! Quit throwing shit in my house. The party hasn’t even started yet.”
Clint set two cases of beer on the counter.
“She did it.” Bucky points at Natasha who sticks her tongue out at him.
“Nat, no dessert for you.”
She turns her attention to Clint and her eyes get that certain glint in them and she smiles seductively. Her voice is sultry.
“But if I don’t get dessert, that means you don’t get dessert, and I know you want dessert.”
“Aaaand that’s why it’s dangerous to have in a place just to look pretty. AGH!”
This time the pillow hits him square in the face.
He’d helped Clint set up for the party, just a few last minute details: hiding fragile objects, bringing out the coolers and filling them with ice for the beer, setting out cups and different snacks he had gotten the day before; all the while Natasha sat at the kitchen counter eating the snacks and making snide comments about the boys’ work ethic and its lacking. Bucky watched as Clint would trail fingers across her back or give her a quick peck on the cheek whenever he walked by her.
They have always been the couple that Bucky looked up to; so strong in their relationship that they seemed to work almost as one person. He and Steve are close, but Nat and Clint are at a whole other level. They’ve been together for ages, Bucky doesn’t even know how long, and it’s obvious.
He’s reflecting on this while sitting at the counter and watching people show up. It’s still early, but there’s a good crowed of people taking up space and starting to get tipsy. His pocket buzzes and he digs his phone out to check the message.
Little Punk Rogers 9:30
Sam made me change my outfit 5 times. I’m pretty sure he and Nat are working together.
Me 9:30
Figures. She keeps dropping hints about u.
Me 9:31
And also blatantly telling me I need get my ass in gear and balls up. I definitely did not make a very crude joke that got me punched really fucking hard in the stomach.
Little Punk Rogers 9:32
Hahaha. I’m sure you didn’t. Sam is trying his hardest to be subtle. It’s not working. Or maybe I’m just noticing it more cuz I know what’s going on.
Me 9:34
It’s because ur a genius and nothing gets by u. R u guys on ur way?
Little Punk Rogers 9:37
Just got in the car. We’ll be there in a bit.
Me 9:38
Great. I’m still trying to think of the perfect way to out ourselves.
Little Punk Rogers 9:39
I’m sure whatever you come up with will be perfect and we’ll all laugh.
Me 9:40
I can’t wait to see u.
Little Punk Rogers 9:40
Me too J
Bucky slips the phone back in his pocket and takes another swig of beer. He’s pacing himself this time, not wanting to be too drunk around Steve, wanting to enjoy being with him. It’ll be there first outing as a couple, and they didn’t even show up together he realizes. He continues to watch the people around him, trying not to count the seconds of each minute until Steve gets there. It seems like it’s taking forever. Why the hell didn’t I pick him up?
“Hey, quit frowning. Steve will be here soon. You don’t want any gross frown lines on your gross face.” Natasha drags her fingers across the crease of his mouth.
“Ow. I don’t want any scratch marks either. Stop touching me!”
“Calm down children.”
“She was touching me!”
Natasha proceeds to pull his hair, and Bucky responds in kind. They poke and prod, until Clint grabs each by one shoulder and shakes them violently.
“Enough! You are both grown-ass adults.”
Bucky sticks his tongue out at Nat, she does the same. Then they both grin devilishly at each other before jabbing their fingers out an inch away from each other and yelling “I’m not touching you” over and over again. Clint rolls his eyes and gulps down his beer.
It is at this moment that Steve and Sam walk up. Both look absolutely confused and amused. Sam looks at Clint and he just shakes his head.
“I’m surrounded by idiots.”
“Lion King!” Steve points out. “I understood that reference.”
Natasha and Bucky notice the newcomers then and retract their fingers immediately. Bucky takes a sheepish swig of his beer and Natasha tries to compose herself with a deep breath. Steve laughs and shakes his head at Bucky.
“What? I never said I wasn’t a child.”
“No, you did not.”
“I, however, am not a child; just a victim of circumstance. Welcome to the party, boys. Can I get you a drink?” Natasha says in her most grown up voice. She gets both of them a beer and they find a place in the living room where they can all sit. Bucky sits at the edge of the couch nearest the chair that Steve chooses. They smile at each other, and Bucky tries to make it explicitly clear that he’d much rather have Steve a lot closer, and a lot more alone. Steve seems to get this because he does that wicked thing where he smiles and his eyes get narrow and looks smug as all hell that makes Bucky melt into a gooey puddle of turned-on.
“God, Bucky; I can smell your Old Spice all the way over here.” Clint complains.
“What makes you think it’s me? Steve’s closer to you.”
“It’s definitely Steve, could smell it as soon as he walked in the door at home.”
“What’s with the Old Spice, Steve?” Natasha asks, genuinely curious.
“What? I’m not allowed to use different soap?”
“You’re allowed to, you just don’t. You’ve never changed the soap you use.”
"What a weird thing to know about someone.” Steve fires back. “I took a shower before going home and borrowed some.”
“Why aren’t you showering at home?”
“I haven’t been home in a few days. I needed to shower. Jeez.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? What are you working on? You sounded really weird on the phone.”
The three men no longer involved in the conversation drink and wait for Steve to launch into some long explanation of some project he’s immersed himself in: Sam wanting to know what’s been keeping his roommate out at all hours of the night and every weekend, Clint wondering what could keep him so busy that Natasha starts to worry about him, Bucky curious to see what excuse Steve would come up with.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I was getting a blowjob.”
All three men choke on their beer and Natasha is left with her jaw hanging to the floor. Steve sips his beer, acting like he’d brushed off the question with an inane excuse.
“What the hell?” Clint sputters.
“Was it any good?” Sam asks, shocked and confused but amused anyways.
“After I hung up I was able to enjoy it more, and it was fantastic.”
Bucky hasn’t been able to stop laughing and is still working on not choking. Natasha looks horrified and guilty as all hell which makes Bucky laugh harder. She launches into a string of incoherent Russian, even Bucky can’t quite follow all of it. He gets that she’s apologizing profusely, and he thinks she says something along the lines of: “I had no idea, I know you really liked him.” He finally catches his breath.
“Jesus Christ, Stevie. That was way better than anything I could have come up with. I mean, look at her!”
“I thought you might like that.”
Bucky bursts into laughter again and everyone looks between the two in a state of complete confusion. Bucky wipes tears from his eyes. He grins at his beautiful, evil man. Not in a million years would he think that Steve would say something like that.
“You’re not into PDA, but you’re totally fine with sharing intimate details of our sex life?”
“’Our’? Jesus, Barnes. Were you giving him a blow job?”
Bucky winks at Clint.
“Also, you were wrong Nat, Steve made the first move.”
“So this whole time you’ve been going off to meet him?” Sam asks.
“Yep.” Steve replies smugly.
“Wait, wait, wait. What whole time? How long has this been going on?” Natasha is still having trouble wrapping her head around it all. Bucky looks at Steve for confirmation, even though he knows exactly how long it’s been.
“A few weeks?” He turns back to Natasha and smiles his smuggest smile. Her face gets stormy.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?!”
Several people closest to them turn to look, but become quickly uninterested when they realize no one is getting physical. Bucky laughs.
“Sorry. I thought Steve told you. I didn’t find out he hadn’t until this morning.”
“Oh my god, you were with him this morning. That’s why you weren’t answering my texts?”
“Yeah.”
She punches him. Hard. Harder than anything all night.
“Steve, I’m so happy for you.” He nods his thanks.
“What about me? I’m just as much in this relationship as him!”
“You,” She says something in Russian that again everyone is glad, and a little disappointed, that they can’t understand. “You had all evening to tell me about it.”
“Yeah, but this was way more fun OW! Quit hitting me!”
Sam, ignoring the two waging war with their eyes to ask Steve how it happened. He tells him about the first night in the studio, the next few nights in the studio (leaving out some of the more graphic details), Bucky joins in and helps him tell about the first night at Bucky’s, the dinner dates at shitty restaurants, great nights with takeout and movies at Bucky’s, going to the movies a couple of times, studying in the library late into the nights. Their relationship is relayed in shared sentences and some inside jokes, completely oblivious to their friends listening intently and sharing fond glances.
The three listeners all quietly thanked the gods and hit themselves over the head for not noticing it sooner or at all for the matter. Bucky and Steve are so obviously in love, and they all knew something weird was going on with the two of them, they just didn’t connect it. It’s a miracle, and they’re all unbelievably happy for their friends
When the story is finished the group toasts the new relationship, and they joke about Steve being the ballsy one and which one of them is the kept woman (on one hand, it’s Bucky’s place, on the other Steve obviously wears the pants) and Bucky tells them they’re all sexist and disgustingly old fashioned.
Clint waves halfhearted goodbyes as his guest slowly begin to leave until they’re left alone in the house, their conversations and laughs the only things that can be heard. Sam, saying he’s had too much to drink to drive home, takes a sleeping bag outside to sleep under the stars. Clint and Natasha say goodnight shortly after and retire to their room. Natasha comes back out a couple of minutes later to give Bucky and Steve a blanket and pillows, but they’re already passed out on the couch, curled around each other.
She watches them for a few moments, marveling at what she’s been wanting for years now coming to fruition. She had never been able to get the pair in the same space, but has always known they’d be perfect for each other. Gently, she lays the blanket over them and goes to bed.
The next morning Bucky wakes up first. He is warm and happy and he doesn’t even need to be fully awake to know why. He pulls Steve closer and nestles his nose into the smaller man’s sleep-mussed hair. Steve stirs and yawns, looking up at Bucky.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Fantastic.”
“Good. Me too.” Steve closes his eyes again, and then his brow furrows. “Where are we?”
“On the couch and Clint and Nat’s.”
“Oh yeah. Oh, yeah. So they all know now.”
Bucky smiles and kisses him on the forehead.
“Yes they do. Is that alright?”
Steve opens his eyes again and smiles up at Bucky.
“Absolutely.” He wriggles impossibly closer to Bucky, and rests his face in the crook of his neck. Bucky traces lazy circles on his back and sighs contentedly. They fall back asleep for a couple more hours. When they wake up again, pots are banging in the kitchen and Natasha is shushing Clint. Bucky ended up on his back with Steve draped across his chest, his legs intertwined with his.
“You awake yet?” Steve whispers.
“Mhm.”
Steve lifts his head a little so he can kiss Bucky’s chin.
“Good morning. Again.”
“Morning. Again.”
“Hey, do you think they’d notice if I got rid of that morning wood that’s jabbing me in my side right now?”
“Jesus, Steve. I’ve learned that you’re a wild one, but this is a whole new level.” He jokes, but he cranes his head to look into the kitchen. Music is playing quietly and Clint and Natasha are chatting while cooking. He reaches under the blanket and is about to reach between them when they hear Sam’s bodiless, meek voice say “please don’t”
They look over the couch to see Sam curled up on the floor next to them with his eyes shut tightly. They burst into laughter.
“What the hell are you doing down there?” Bucky asks.
“It’s freezing outside. I made a terrible mistake last night. Much warmer here. But now I think I’ve made another terrible mistake.”
They laugh again and Natasha comes into the living room to see what’s going on.
“Nat, please save me.”
“From what?”
“From these two sexual deviants.”
She quirks her eyebrow at them, but the pair look innocently up at her.
“They were gonna jerk each other off on your couch.”
“Oh come one! Don’t do that!”
“It was Steve’s idea!”
“Seriously, you’re just gonna throw me under the bus like that?”
“Yes.”
“Just, get up. Breakfast is ready. Good god. I’m beginning to think this was all a horrible mistake. You two were made for each other, and I don’t think that’s a good thing for the rest of us.”
Sam gets up and follows her into the kitchen. They can hear her ask about sleeping outside and him launching into some glorified tale of ice storms and yetis. Bucky kisses Steve on the forehead, and Steve kisses Bucky on the lips. Their stomachs growl and they laugh and get up to join their friends in the kitchen.
Everyone jokes and laughs and Bucky rests against the counter, occasionally feeding Steve (who’s resting against him) bites of his toast. They’re unbelievably happy and everyone is happy for them, the group settling in for this new and exciting dynamic.