Work Text:
Bucky is so pissed. He’s fucking furious. He’s livid. Beyond that – he’s vibrating with rage. Fucking asshole dickwipe of an ex-boyfriend had ‘dropped off’ his key when Bucky was at work, and had decided that the laptop that had all his fucking ideas, plans, and rough drafts on it, was somehow his.
Bucky paid for that fucking thing with his tips, his name was on the insurance policy and it was his fucking laptop. Brock could suck a million dicks if he thought Bucky was just gonna roll the fuck over and let him steal it.
So he was stealing it back.
Brock and his new fuck buddy were out. Bucky had cased the house for a good couple of hours, watched them leave, saw Brocks tweet about the movie they were going to see – and then made his move. He didn’t have a key – which made sense now he looked back, why Brock never wanted Bucky at his place. Cause the cheating asshole would have been caught with his pants down if Bucky had shown up out of the blue.
However, Bucky had a sealed juvie record and a grudge – and Brocks window had an old fashion lock that was easily jimmied open. Perfect.
The apartment was on the third floor, and he didn’t want to risk turning on the lights, so he tried to remember the layout of the place from memory. Considering he’d only been inside about three times, it was harder than he expected. Seriously, he was such a fucking idiot. Why hadn’t he noticed how Brock had two phones and never wanted Bucky to stay the night? Bucky, too fucking trusting by half, had just assumed that his boyfriend needed it for his job. That he worked long hours and Bucky was trying to make it work. He wanted to go back in time and punch himself in the face for that. Make it work. Ha.
He crept through the apartment as stealthily as he could (not pretty stealthily, to be honest) and tried to see in the half-light that was cast through the windows. His laptop was a dark grey, which made it pretty well camouflaged in the darkness, where everything looked like it could be what he was trying to find. After picking up yet another coffee table book, he let out a sigh and threw it on the couch.
“Oft!” the couch said, before sucking in a breath and obviously holding it.
Bucky froze. There was someone else in the apartment. Someone who was sitting in the darkness. Who’d probably seen him arrive through the window. Shit.
“Oh, this isn’t what it looks like.” He whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was fucking whispering – it wasn’t like the couch wasn’t super fucking aware that Bucky was robbing the apartment.
“Okay.” The voice whispered back. Deeper than he was expecting. Male. Small though, small enough to hide quite effectively on the couch without Bucky even being aware of it. “Uh, just ignore me.”
“Yeah, okay.” Bucky agreed. “Uh, don’t suppose you’ve seen my laptop?” He asked, still whispering. “It’s grey.”
“Um, I think it might be in the bedroom.” The couch said, before a rather delicate cough. “If you can find my tablet I’d really appreciate it.”
“Yeah?” Bucky said, quietly. A few things were twisting together in his mind, and he certainly didn’t like where it was going. “You Peirce?” He asked, dreading the reply. Peirce was the fucker that Brock had been screwing around with when he’d been dating Bucky. Asshole.
“Uh, I thought you were Georges.” The couch said, sounding… well… kinda pissed. “Who the fuck is Peirce?”
“Who the hell is Georges?” Bucky managed, getting the serious feeling he’d fucked up somewhere. Had he broken into the wrong apartment?
“Uh, he’s Brocks new boyfriend.” The couch said, bitterly. “The asshole who dumped me via text.”
“Oh screw this.” Bucky snapped, and reached for the table lamp, turning it on by the little switch on the base. “Who the hell are…” He didn’t get much else out, because the guy on the couch was… well he was…
Super fucking hot, is what he was.
Tiny, Jesus, so tiny Bucky could probably lift him up and carry him without even trying, lucky if he made it over 5’3 from what Bucky could make out. He was laying flat along the couch, pressed into the cushions, obviously trying to hide. Blond hair that looked a little mussed (probably from trying to hide in the couch) and a face that looked like it was carved from fucking marble. Pale enough to look like he was marble. Bucky didn’t even know that Brock had liked super twinky guys. This guy was the twinkiest twink that ever twinked. Bucky wanted to put him in his pocket. He was blinking a little in the sudden light, and Bucky noticed that he had a pair of glasses tucked in his hand. He’d taken them off when he’d tried to stuff his face into the couch to avoid being noticed. Shit, Bucky wasn’t even aware he was into nerds. He was super into this nerd.
“Uh,” The little nerd said, and Bucky was trying not to stare at the jaw, the mouth (oh, god, his fucking mouth) or the shockingly blue eyes that were peering at him. “Hi.” He said, blinking a few times before putting his glasses on. Yup, Bucky admitted. That was a thing. 27 years old and only just figuring out he liked tiny guys in thick rimmed glasses. Go figure. “I’m Steve.”
Steve? Bucky blinked, he’d never heard of a Steve.
“Bucky.” He said, and did notice that the little guy (Steve) nodded. “You’re the other one then, huh?” He said, sitting up a little. No point in him trying to hide anymore, Bucky figured.
“The other one?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Brock text me once, called me Bucky.” He screwed up his nose. “I should have figured it out then, I guess.” He said, and glared down at his hands. “But I didn’t think… you know… I just… I should have fucking known he was seeing other people.”
“You’re…” Bucky said, voice a little too high. “You’re dating Brock?”
“I broke up with Brock.” Steve snapped. “When I found out he was cheating on me with Georges.”
“He’s… wait.” Bucky said, holding up his hands. “He’s seeing a guy called Peirce.” Bucky said, feeling like all the air was leaving his lungs. “He was cheating on me with some guy called Peirce.”
“And with Georges.” Steve said, pausing before he waved a hand over himself. “And me.”
“That fucking asshole.” Bucky spat out. “I should have fucking known he was a total fucking shitstain.” He paced a little, waving his hands in the air. “I mean, seriously – four fucking guys?” He paused. “Who the hell tries to keep four fucking guys on the go at the same time?” He paused, turned and glared. “He stole my laptop.” He said, “S’why I’m here.” He wasn’t sure why he felt like he needed to explain it to this tiny, fucking gorgeous guy, but he was. “I’m not trying to get back with him or anything.”
“He took my tablet.” Steve said, getting to his feet and looking around the room. “I need it for work, so I picked the lock.” He shrugged, and Bucky was right, tiny. So fucking short that Bucky would be able to prop his chin on the top of his head. He looked young, but there was a maturity to him that kinda knocked into his face. Mind twenties, Bucky figured.
“Right.” Bucky said. “You find yours, I’ll find mine, and then we’ll get the fuck out of here before the asshole gets back and calls the cops.”
His laptop was in the bedroom. He didn’t even bother trying to sneak, just walked through the apartment, throwing on all the lights. The bed was made (Thank god, he sure as hell didn’t want to think of his ex getting it on while Bucky had been casing out his apartment) and the laptop was sitting on the smooth cover.
“I found it!” Steve called, from the kitchen – before walking through to the bedroom where Bucky was glaring at the bed like it had personally done him wrong. “Did you find… oh, okay.” He said, standing in the doorway, clutching a tablet in his hand.
“I wanna take something of his.” Bucky admitted. “But I can’t think what.”
“I can’t get arrested.” Steve said easily, “but I’ve got an idea, if you wanna fuck with him a bit?”
They didn’t have a lot of time, and Bucky was pretty fucking impressed with Steve’s seemingly unending arsenal of pranks. Cause that’s what it was. Pranks.
They replaced his toothpaste with the cream they found in the medicine cabinet, mixed up all of the neatly paired socks. They changed his phone ringtone, and his voicemail message, disguising their voices as best they could. “Brocks pleasure palace.” Steve said, voice breathy and waaaaay too sultry – Bucky’s dick twitched in his jeans at the sound of it – “I’m currently seeing to another satisfied customer right now,” He purred into the machine, and Bucky leaned forward, giving his best ‘best sex ever’ moan, and noticing that Steve swallowed hard at the sound. “But leave a message and I’ll make sure you fill,” He paused, sounding sultry and hot and teasing and Bucky was very aware of how close they are pressed together. “A…slot… as soon as possible.”
After that they moved as much of the furniture as they could, but time was getting tight – the movie would only last so long and already Bucky had gone over the allotted time he’d promised himself was ‘safe’.
“We gotta split.” He told Steve, after they’d swapped out the DVD’s into the wrong boxes. “He’ll be back soon and I don’t wanna be here when he does.”
“Yeah, okay.” Steve said, after looking around the apartment for a few moments, trying to think of something else they could do. “Yeah. Yeah.” He looked over at Bucky and grinned. “You wanna mess with him some more?”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve done enough here.” Bucky pointed out.
“Yeah,” Steve smirked, and Bucky was pretty sure that Steve Rogers could get him to zipline over a fucking ravine with a smirk like that on his lips. “But you know what he’s like.” He said, sliding a little closer to Bucky. “Come on, we can do this somewhere else.”
‘Somewhere else’ turned out to be a fairly dingy alley a few blocks from the apartment they’d both been trying to rob. “You got a twitter?” Steve asked, pulling out his phone and turning on the camera.
“Yeah.” Bucky nodded, watching as Steve leaned against the damp wall.
“Great. C’mere.”
Bucky didn’t get two steps closer to Steve when the smaller man reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him tight against his thin body. He held out his phone and snapped a picture, and pushed against Bucky with the same hand he’d pulled him close with.
The picture was blurry, hard to see, with shitty lighting. “That sucks.” Bucky pointed out, looking at the screen over Steve’s shoulder.
“Yeah, I know.” Steve snapped, but there was no heat in it. “I was gonna tweet it to him.”
Bucky knew Brock was a jealous asshole, and he never hid the fact from Bucky that he pretty much stalked his ex’s over social media. The idea that two of his former boyfriends were making out together would drive him insane.
Bucky really, really liked that idea. “Okay, try again.” He said, pressing closer into Steve’s smaller body, trying not to think that maybe (maybe, ha!) he was kinda not doing it to make Brock jealous, but just because he wanted to get as close to Steve as possible.
Steve snapped a picture. His thumb was over the lens. “Okay,” Bucky laughed, “Again?”
The next attempt was better.
“It looks fake.” Steve pouted, and Bucky wanted to suck on that bottom lip till he whined.
“It is fake.” Bucky pointed out. He was still pressed against Steve, who was warmer than Bucky expected, warm and soft and very, very attractive.
“He’s not gonna believe this.” Steve said, shrugging. “He’ll know I’m not your type.”
“You’re totally my type.” Bucky said, without even engaging his brain.
Steve shot him a disbelieving look, before arching an eyebrow. “Brock is your type.”
“Hey!” Bucky said, holding up his hands. “You can’t hold that against me, he’s your ex too!”
Steve paused for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that.” He looked at his phone and deleted the picture. “Come on, we’ll work something out later.” He said, tucking it back into his jeans. “I’m starving.”
“I know a place.” Bucky hedged. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve just then.
The place Bucky knew was a little Russian place that had deep set booths and was pretty well known for looking the other way if someone dropped a fork under the table and wasn’t seen for a couple of minutes, while their date tried very hard not to moan too loud. Mostly that had to do with the fact that the owner was a big ol’ voyeur who got his kicks off watching that kind of thing. Bucky liked the food. And the deep set booths.
“This is nice.” Steve said, as Pavel sat them at a table that afforded a lot of privacy. “Never been here before, not sure if I like Russian food.”
“It’s good.” Bucky grinned, ordering for both of them fluently without even looking at the menu. When he saw Steve looking at him with big blue eyes he grinned. “My grandparents are Russian. They insisted I learn.”
“That’s pretty hot.” Steve said, with a slight smile. He was sitting across from Bucky, their feet almost (but not quite) touching under the table. Bucky was pretty pleased about the way the night had ended. Not only had he got his laptop back but he was about to have dinner with a guy so hot that he turned Bucky into a walking hardon.
“Yeah?” Bucky asked, sliding his foot between Steve’s calves. There was absolutely no possible way the other man wasn’t getting the hint.
“Yeah.” Steve said, looking up at Bucky from under his lashes – which was a move he must have known worked, because now Bucky’s mind was filled with the idea of Steve looking up at him through those lashes in a situation with a lot less clothes. “So,” The smaller man said, leaning back but still keeping Bucky’s foot between his legs. “What do you so when you aren’t breaking into ex-boyfriends homes?” He smirked.
“I work in a restaurant.” Bucky said, shrugging. “Uh, it’s shit and I hate it, but it keeps a roof over my head while I work on my book.”
“Book?” Steve said, leaning forward, eyes glittering in the dim lights. “You write?”
“I wanna write.” Bucky said, shrugging. “I self published a couple of things, they did okay, I broke even… but I’m not exactly making money on it, you know? I just… I just love it.” He finished, lamely. “It’s a hobby.” He added, because people don’t really want to know too much about a ‘self published’ writer who needs to work in a shitty restaurant to pau the bills. “What about you?”
“No, no no!” Steve grinned, kicking at Bucky’s foot. “You don’t get off so easy, you gotta tell me about these books. What kind of thing do you write?”
“Uh, spy stuff.” Bucky said, aware that he could talk for hours and hours on the subject and hyper aware that it was boring as fuck for other people. “Set just after World War 2.”
“That sounds great.” Steve said, actually managing to look interested, which Bucky appreciated. “I do an online comic.” He said, “About a bunch of super heroes living together and what they do when they aren’t saving the world.” He shrugged. “It’s why I needed my tablet, you know?”
Steve only ate half of his food, but considering that the plate probably weighed more than he did, Bucky didn’t think too hard about it. “Man, I feel like I’m gonna burst.” The smaller man said, rubbing his hand over the front of his shirt. “Do they put bricks in this stuff?”
“Probably.” Bucky grinned. They’d managed to keep up a steady flow of conversation through the meal, talking about pretty much everything – Steve’s comics and his day job (a freelance illustrator) as well as their mutual love of baseball and old swing bands. “You know,” Bucky said, remembering something he’d noticed on a flier at the laundromat the day before, “There’s a swing band playing at ‘Shield’ tomorrow night.” Bucky mentioned, hoping it sounded casual and relaxed. “I was gonna check it out.” He said, “It’s my night off.”
“Yeah?” Steve grinned, although he made no effort to arrange a meet-up and Bucky tried not to look as disappointed as he felt.
Shield was a pretty popular place, for all it was supposed to be ‘underground’ and ‘secret’. The big band was playing in the corner and Bucky had even made an effort to look the part – his hair was pulled back into a tight band, and he’d clipped a set of suspenders to his jeans, although he’d left them dangling at his sides rather than pulled up over his moss green button down. The tickets were dirt cheap but the drinks weren’t, so Bucky stood at the bar and nursed what would probably be his only drink of the night, letting the music wash over him.
“You look like a swell cove.” A deep voice said, and when Bucky blinked, Steve Rogers was standing in front of him. Like Bucky, he’d nodded to the 40’s feel of the place, with his hair slicked into a neat side part and a pair of slacks, suspenders that he’d looped over his slight shoulders, and a white shirt. He looked good enough to eat, and Bucky was aware that his smile was wolfish.
“Can’t get bent in this joint without looking tight.” Bucky smirked. “You got your glad rags on too.” He pointed out.
Steve laughed, and ran his hands down the sides of his slacks. “Well, daddy-o, had to make the effort, if my best guy was gonna be here.” He shot back, and smiled when Bucky’s face probably gave away just how pleased he was to see Steve standing in front of him.
“Hows about you let this guy buy you a drink?” He smiled, and Steve’s answer was to stand a little closer, close enough that Bucky could pick up the crisp bite of his aftershave under the sweat of the people around him. God damn, Steve Rogers was gonna be the death of him.
At some point in the night, Steve had unhooked his suspenders from his shoulders and his hair had worked a little out of his neat side part. He still looked good enough to eat, and Bucky had made sure that the smaller man knew exactly how Bucky felt – he was pretty sure he’d not been more than a foot away from Steve all night, keeping him close and talking into his ear all night – any excuse to press himself closer. Steve didn’t seem to mind – in fact, he seemed more than willing to let Bucky plaster himself to his side, even looping his skinny arm around Bucky’s waist when they talked, hips knocking together as they moved with the music.
Steve wasn’t a huge dancer, so they’d kept to the side, which was fine with Bucky, as it gave him plenty of chance to keep Steve close without having to deal with some over-enthusiastic dancer knocking them both over with a botched lindy-hop.
“Man, I was born in the wrong time.” Steve said, almost on his toes to reach Buckys ear. The hot puff of breath against his neck causing the hairs on his arms to stand up – he couldn’t remember being so into anyone as much as he was into this skinny little tease.
“Really?” Bucky grinned, loving the way that Steve didn’t pull back when Bucky turned to face him, faces only a few inches apart. “Cause I’m not a huge fan of a few things.”
“Like what?” Steve grinned, still not pulling back, eyes flicking between Buckys mouth and his eyes.
“Well, the lack of internet, for one.” Bucky said, shifting his stance a little so he could press closer to Steve. It wasn’t really crowded enough to excuse that, but Steve grinned lazily and let Bucky press closer, blue eyes peeking through sinfully long lashes. “And not getting arrested for doing this,” He grinned, leaning across the scant inches between them and pressing a fleeting kiss against the side of Steve’s mouth. “I kinda like too.”
Steve pulled back, and Bucky had a few seconds of internal panic that he’d stepped over a line, that maybe the flirting between them wasn’t as strong as he’d thought – but Steve’s smile was genuine and warm and a little like a damn sun it was so bright.
“I gotta agree with that.” He said, eyes flickering down to Buckys mouth again. “Although… I don’t think they woulda thrown you in the jail for a little thing like that.” He teased, and… well… Bucky couldn’t let that go.
The next kiss wasn’t quite so chaste.
Bucky could quite happily kiss Steve Rogers 24 hours a day. He was pretty sure that he could put ‘kissing Steve Rogers’ down as part of his resume.
And he was also pretty sure that Steve knew exactly what those fucking nerdy as hell glasses did to him.
Steve was sitting at his drafting table, because he liked to plan out his comics in pencil and pen before digitalising them, wearing a beanie hat pushed back on his head, despite the fact that all the windows were closed and the temperature of the room was pleasant, when Bucky unlocked the door with a grocery bag in his arms. “Yo.” He called out, walking through to the kitchen and not even bothering to check that Steve was okay with him just showing up. After all – they’d done the whole key swap thing a month before, and if Bucky didn’t just show up out of the blue a few times a week, Steve would think something was up. “I picked up that obnoxious cheese you like.” Bucky called from the kitchen, only jumping about a foot in the air when Steve appeared behind him. The first couple of times he’d screamed like a girl.
“Hmm?” Steve said, glasses in place, and the first couple of buttons undone on his shirt. God damn, those fucking glasses were going to be the death of him. He let his eyes run over Steve, his thick socks that let him creep through the apartment and scare the shit out of Bucky, his scruffy jeans that were so soft that he could probably sleep in them, the plaid shirt with the top buttons undone and the peek of a white t-shirt under it...
Not exactly the sexiest get-up Bucky had ever seen, but he couldn’t help the slow smirk that worked across his face at seeing Steve standing there, looking good enough to eat.
“So I got a message this morning from Brock.” Steve said, which was pretty effective at killing the smile on Buckys face.
“Oh yeah?” He said, turning back to the groceries. He hadn’t thought about Brock since the night he’d got his laptop back – he thought that it was the same for Steve too. They’d been dating solidly for three months, going from total strangers to joined at the hip and Brock had never come up in conversation in that whole time.
“Yeah,” Steve said, jumping up onto the counter and kicking his heels on the cupboard, looking at Bucky with those sinfully big blue eyes. “Uh, I thought you might want to know.” He said, shrugging. “He sent me a PM on twitter, said he broke up with Peirce and wanted to know if I wanted to ‘catch up’.”
Bucky could see Steve throwing up the air quotes as he put away the groceries. Steve was a shit cook, but he tried his best to keep at least the basics of a couple of meals in the kitchen, and Bucky always tried to get him to try new stuff. He wondered if Steve was thinking of going to see Brock. Bucky would have been happy never to talk about him again. It was a shit relationship and what he had with Steve was fucking great. He thought it had been the same for Steve, but he might have been wrong. “Yeah?” He said, trying to sound casual and not like he wanted to punch something. He really didn’t want Steve to ‘catch up’ with Brock. They’d had a talk before they’d exchanged keys – they were exclusive, neither one of them seeing other people. It was important for both of them, especially after Brock, that they had that trust. “What did you say?”
“I told him he was tripping acid if he thought I’d ever wanna see him again.” Steve said, picking up an apple that had rolled out of the paper bag set on the counter by him and took a bite.
“He told me he only asked cause he knew that I’d probably not got laid since him, and that he was just being a nice guy.” Steve snorted. “Cause I’m ‘not that cute’.”
“Asshole.” Bucky said, “You’re plenty cute.”
“Um...” Steve said, and Bucky leaned his hip against the fridge and waited. Steve had obviously said something after that, because Steve was Steve, and he wouldn’t let a comment like that slide. “So... don’t get mad or anything,” He said, looking at his hands. There were ink stains between his fingers, and Bucky must have been weird but he found that hot as hell. “But I sent him that picture.” He paused. “The one of you sucking me off.”
Bucky’s bark of laughter filled the apartment, and Steve grinned a little.
“Hey, Buck?” He said, taking a bite of the apple in his hand.
“Yeah, Stevie?”
“I think we should totally take some more pictures.” He said, looking innocent and demure. Bucky fucking adored the way Steve could suggest something like that with a look that screamed ‘pure as the driven snow’ at the same time. He pretty much adored everything about Steve Rogers.
“Hmm?”
“Yeah.” The smaller man grinned. “You know. For art.” He looked down at the apple in his hand and then back at Bucky, keeping his lashes lowered. He fucking knew all of Bucky’s weaknesses, and wasn’t above using them to his advantage. Kicking off the counter, he walked out of the kitchen knowing full well that Bucky was going to follow him. “I lost my contacts again.” He called over his shoulder, before disappearing out of sight. “So I’ll have to keep the glasses on, if you don’t mind.”
Bucky forgot about the icecream in the bottom of the bag until much, much later, when he found it had melted through the paper carton and all over the counter-top.
Worth it.