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Bucky unlocks his front door with a long groan. He should have been home hours ago, but a last-minute project with a short deadline had been thrown onto his lap. The thing is, Bucky loves his job. There isn’t anything about his work that he necessarily dislikes, but the work tends to be a little time-consuming. It’s a good thing that he doesn’t have anyone besides Alpine, his cat, to come home to.
Kicking off his shoes, Bucky lets out a low whistle into the apartment, calling out to the cat. “Hey Al, I’m home.”
He glances around the entryway, surprised at the lack of Alpine’s presence. It’s not unusual for Alpine to be at his feet, meowing to alert him of her impending starvation, before Bucky has even taken his jacket off.
Bucky isn’t worried. It’s just as likely that Alpine is elsewhere in the apartment, quietly getting into trouble. He continues his trek into the apartment, pausing to shrug his messenger bag off of his shoulder and laying it across his kitchen island.
Bucky’s stomach gives a small grumble as he makes his way across the kitchen, but his priorities are currently elsewhere. There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge that Bucky has been looking forward to since noon; he can’t wait to pop it open.
As he opens the fridge and pulls out the bottle of wine, Bucky’s thoughts drift to Alpine once again. He still hasn’t heard so much as a jingle coming from her collar – that has to be weird, right? Bucky’s stomach twists uncomfortably.
There are few things in the world that Bucky loves as much as he loves Alpine. She's the sweetest cat and all she ever wants are treats and a warm place to sleep; her and Bucky have that in common.
Bucky had been living in the apartment for a little over a month when he made the decision to adopt Alpine. It was his first time living on his own and Bucky hated it. He was an unapologetic homebody who loved nothing more than spending his days with his ma and sisters, but as the family grew older and expanded, there just wasn’t room for all of them in their old brownstone.
He was able to find a small, beautiful apartment in Park Slope that was perfect for just him. In the first few weeks on his own, Bucky reveled in the silence. There was never a battle for the shower, he could sleep in as late as he wanted, and he could eat as many pizza rolls as his heart desired. It was great, but the novelty quickly wore off.
With the silence, came loneliness. He found himself missing the chaos, missing the noise, missing his family.
He had wandered into the adoption shelter on a whim. Bucky had found himself in a funk, feeling sorry for himself, and he just wanted to love on some cats. He had taken one look at the ball of white fluff hiding in the corner of her crate and asked to take her home then and there.
Alpine truly makes his life brighter.
Placing the bottle on the counter, Bucky quickly does a lap of the apartment, calling out Alpine’s name. Bucky moves through the living room, pushing the throw pillows off of the sofa and checking behind the closed curtains. Nothing.
He moves into the bedroom, eyes darting across the small space. “Alpine, where are you?” he asks as he drops to his knees, crawling the perimeter of his bedroom to check under the various pieces of furniture. God, the things he does for this cat.
With still no sign of the Alpine, Bucky quickly grows frustrated. His stomach feels like lead, his gut churning with worry. Bucky moves into the bathroom, pulling back the shower curtain to verify that Alpine isn’t lounging in the tub. She isn’t there either.
“Sweetheart, where the hell did you go?” he asks again, and groans into the silent air. What the hell.
Bucky backtracks to the kitchen and pulls out a bag of cat treats, shaking them a little frantically. He’s checked everywhere he can think of. The apartment is tiny, the four rooms cleared easily. Bucky has checked all of her favorite hiding places and nap spots to no avail.
“Alpine, come on.”
It wasn’t as if Bucky was expecting an answer, but the resounding silence breaks the small amount of resolve he has left. His hands shake as he drops the bag of treats on the counter. He’s searched everywhere; Alpine has to be out of the apartment.
Fuck.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky says - sobs - as he scrambles to grab his keys and slides his feet into his shoes. He barely remembers to throw on a jacket before he’s rushing out of the apartment, door slamming shut behind him.
Bucky takes the steps two at a time as he barrels down the stairs, pausing on each floor to check the hallway up and down for any signs of white fur. He can’t escape the pang of dread at each floor he passes with no sign of Alpine.
He feels like he's barely breathing as he reaches the ground floor, panic seizing his lungs. Bucky always assumed that he would handle a crisis well, but his gasping breaths and tear-streaked cheeks tell another story.
“Alpine!” he shouts into the street, head snapping around in every direction in search of her.
Dusk has settled over the street, and Bucky’s grateful for the lack of foot traffic around him. He jogs down the sidewalk, repeating her name like a prayer. There’s no sign of her on the sidewalk, in the alleys, causing Bucky to let out a frustrated groan.
Bucky has always made it a point to be the best cat dad that he could be. Alpine always has the best food, she has fresh litter and all the toys she could ever dream to have, yet Bucky has still somehow managed to lose her. Fuck. He doesn’t know what he will do if he can’t find her.
Pausing to catch his breath, Bucky wracks his brain for anything else he can do. His eyes scan the street and catch on a sign stapled to an electric post a ways down the road. Bucky remembers seeing missing pet posters all over the city – he just hopes that they’ve helped.
He turns back to his building and quickly climbs the stairs. The faster that he gets this done, the sooner he can get back to searching and, hopefully, the sooner he will have Alpine in his arms.
Back in his apartment, Bucky hunts for supplies he can use to create a sign. He’s a millennial, he doesn’t own a printer, but he has several pictures of Alpine around the apartment and a can-do attitude. Bucky can make this happen.
He grabs the first picture of Alpine that he sees and tears into one of the several pieces of junk mail littering his counter. It won’t be perfect, but it will work. Bucky tapes the photo to the back of the letter, before grabbing a marker and writing the first thing that comes to mind.
MISSING CAT
“Alpine”
(347) 234-5678
Reward if found
Bucky doesn’t know what sort of reward he will be able to give, but he’ll happily drain his bank account if it means that Alpine is home safe.
As an afterthought, he adds one more line to the sign.
Her dad is ugly crying right now
Maybe it will garner a little extra sympathy, cause someone to look a little more thoroughly for Alpine. That, or passersby will chuckle and continue with their commute. Either way, it’s honest. Bucky is definitely ugly crying.
Bucky stumbles as he rushes down the stairs once more, meager sign clutched tightly in his hands.
In his mind, Bucky’s retracing his steps over the last several hours. Surely he slipped up somewhere, letting Alpine escape, but he can’t figure out where. The window in his bedroom was left open, it always was in the springtime, but Bucky doesn’t think Alpine would jump out onto the fire escape. She never has before. Bucky surely would have noticed her running out of the apartment any of the times that he opened the front door, but what else could have happened? He was rushing this morning, distractedly on the phone with his sister; Alpine could have snuck out while he was leaving and he wouldn’t have even noticed.
Exiting the apartment building once more, Bucky is pulled out of his thoughts when he runs face-first into a large, solid object. A person, he belatedly realizes.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he groans, fighting a fresh wave of tears. His nerves are fried and he’s been seconds away from a full-blown meltdown since he realized Alpine was missing. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself even more in front of this stranger.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the person says, turning to face Bucky and placing a hand on his arm to steady him. The guy is massive, almost a head taller than Bucky, and built like a brick shithouse. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, Bucky can see his kind smile. “It’s a busy sidewalk, it happens.”
Bucky scrubs a hand across his face. “Still, I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I’m just, I’m having the fucking worst day and I– oh!” Bucky cuts himself off, remembering the sheet of paper crinkling in his fist. “Have you seen this cat?” He holds out the sign and silently curses his hands for shaking.
“Oh no,” the man’s voice is sympathetic as he looks over the photo. “I haven’t, I’m sorry. Is she yours?”
“Yeah,” Bucky nods, voice coming out in a whine. “She got out today and I can’t find her anywhere.”
“That’s horrible,” he says with a frown. He’s dressed casually, in jeans and a hoodie, with a messenger bag similar to Bucky’s resting across his broad chest. The ballcap he’s wearing is backwards, but Bucky can see flashes of blond hair poking out the bottom of it.
“Yeah,” Bucky says with a sad little nod. “I’ve been out here looking for a while but I haven’t been able to find her.”
“I can help.”
Bucky blinks. “What?”
“I mean,” the man continues, “I’ve got some time. I can help you look for her?” His words trail off, coming out like a question.
“Yes,” Bucky says, the words coming out quick and eager. “That would be great…”
“Steve,” he supplies. “Steve Rogers.”
“Well, Steve Rogers,” Bucky grins. The expression feels strange on his face after so much time spent frowning. “I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet you.”
Steve's smile is so wide that his eyes crinkle at the corners, like he’s been granted the greatest honor in being allowed to help search for Alpine.
“Do you want to hang your sign up?” Steve asks, motioning toward the paper that is still clutched in Bucky’s hands. “I’m sure we can find a post around here somewhere.”
Bucky looks at the paper in his hands before frowning. “I don’t have a stapler,” he says regretfully. “I was just planning on showing people. D’you think that will work?”
“Sure.” The smile on Steve’s face is reassuring. “We can stop anyone we pass and ask them.”
Nodding, Bucky’s gaze moves around the street once more. They’re still standing at the entrance to his building, the two men taking up a lot of room and blocking the foot traffic that’s moving through the area.
“Well, I guess we better get started,” Bucky starts moving down the sidewalk, passing the sign over to Steve. “She’s all white,” he tells Steve, “and about this big.”
Bucky holds out his hands to demonstrate. “She’s called–”
“Alpine, I know,” Steve says with a laugh. “She’s cute.”
“Oh I know,” Bucky chuckles, his eyes constantly surveying the area around them. “She’s the best cat in the world, I swear to God. Never even gets into trouble–” he pauses, face twisting. “Well, except for today, I guess.”
Steve laughs again, bringing a hand up to give Bucky’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.
“We’ll find her, Buck.” Steve looks so sincere, so honest, that Bucky can’t help but believe him.
The two move through the streets surrounding Bucky’s apartment with ease, only stopping to show the poster to the occasional passersby. As night falls over Brooklyn, their search only aided by street lamps, it begins to rain.
“Shit,” Bucky sighs, dragging his hand across his face. “As if this night could get any worse.”
“We’re not made of sugar, Bucky,” Steve says with a laugh, giving Bucky a soft nudge with his elbow. “We ain’t gonna melt.”
The rain continues to fall around them, and before they know it, they’re both completely soaked. Bucky’s shivering underneath his flimsy jacket, and he knows Steve isn’t much better off. All Bucky can think about is poor Alpine; she’s out in this rain, lost, and surely terrified. His heart gives a sharp pang.
“Bucky,” Steve says, reaching out to grasp Bucky’s elbow. “Alpine’s probably hunkered down to avoid the rain, I don’t know if we’re going to find her tonight.”
Bucky wants to argue; she’s out here somewhere, they just haven’t looked hard enough. Realistically, Steve is right. Finding her once the sun went down was challenging enough, but it was nearly impossible in the now-pouring rain. Alpine hates to feel even a splash of water; she has to be miserable in the rain.
“I just,” Bucky begins, shaking his head. “I can’t just give up.” Bucky can't even begin to think about what happens next if he can't find Alpine.
“And we won’t,” Steve says, like it’s as easy as that. “But you’re exhausted and soaking wet. Why don’t we call it a night and we can get back to it first thing tomorrow?”
Bucky chances one more look around the now-empty street before nodding, sorrow lacing his features. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he acquiesces. “But, uh, you don’t have to. Come back, I mean. You’ve already helped so much, Steve.”
It’s impossible for Bucky to tell Steve how grateful he is for everything that Steve has done for him today. This man, this stranger, had put his entire evening on hold to help Bucky search for Alpine. Steve had distracted Bucky when he felt himself beginning to spiral in fear. Surely, if Bucky had been alone, he would be much worse off.
Steve is shaking his head before Bucky finishes speaking. “No way,” he says, giving Bucky’s elbow another squeeze. “We’re in this together, pal. There’s no way I’m not seeing this through.”
If Bucky hadn’t cried himself dry over the last several hours, he’s sure those words would have pushed him over the edge. Steve had spent most of his evening running circles around Bucky’s small corner of the city and here he was, telling Bucky that he wasn’t giving up.
Before he can second-guess himself, Bucky reaches up to throw his arms around Steve’s shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze. “Thank you so much,” he whispers against Steve’s collar. Bucky can’t help but grin as he feels a pair of arms wrap around him.
He isn’t sure if the resulting shiver he feels is from the chill in the air or the warm palms that settle against the small of his back.
“Hey,” Bucky says as he pulls out of the embrace, running a nervous hand through his hair. “D’you wanna come up to mine? I can make dinner as a thank you for today.”
The offer is purely selfish, Bucky can admit that. As great as it sounds to crawl directly into bed and sleep for the foreseeable future, Bucky can’t stand the idea of going home to an empty apartment.
Seeming to sense that, Steve agrees with a smile. “Sure Buck, that sounds great.”
By the time they reach Bucky’s apartment, Steve’s teeth are chattering from the cold. Bucky feels himself flush with guilt as they enter the apartment, flipping on lights as he goes.
“Why don’t you grab a quick shower while I get the food ready?” Bucky offers as he flips on the coffee maker. “It’ll warm you up.”
Steve opens his mouth, ready to argue, so Bucky presses on. “Seriously, Steve, you’re shaking. I’ve got some clothes that will fit you and I just put fresh towels in the cupboard this morning.” It’s the absolute least that Bucky can do after everything that Steve has done for him.
“Yeah, okay,” Steve agrees with a small laugh. “Guess I’ll leave you to it.”
Bucky gives Steve a small smile, unable to resist the urge to give his arm a soft squeeze. After their brief hug on the sidewalk, Bucky can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. “Bathroom’s first door on the left. I’ll set some clothes out for you,” he says, taking off toward the bedroom to grab the aforementioned clothes before he can do anything stupid, like hug Steve again. “Oh, and the towels are just in the cupboard next to the sink.”
Before Steve can respond, Bucky disappears into the bedroom.
Steve nods to himself before making his way into the bathroom. Bucky’s right, of course. Steve is absolutely frozen and nothing sounds better than a nice, warm shower.
This isn’t exactly how he had planned on spending his evening – wandering the streets of Park Slope, searching for a cat – but Steve can’t find it in himself to regret it. There’s just something about Bucky that warms Steve from the inside, out, despite the chill in the air. It is an awful situation that they have found themselves in, but Steve can't help but find himself grateful for it causing their paths to cross.
The door to the bathroom clicks closed behind him and Steve takes a moment to breathe. It’s been so long since he’s felt this strong of a connection with somebody, but he knows that Bucky’s fragile. The other man is going through something awful – the last thing Bucky must want is for Steve to throw himself at him.
Steve shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.
He reaches behind the shower curtain to flip on the water before turning to the cupboard in search of a towel. As he pulls the door open, Steve lets out a near-hysterical laugh at the sight that greets him.
There are towels, just like Bucky had said. What he failed to mention was the bundle of fur stretched across the linens, snoozing away.
Alpine.
“Well hey there,” Steve laughs again, reaching forward to give the cat a small scratch between her ears. “You must be Alpine. Y’know, you gave your dad a pretty good scare today.”
The only response he gets is a quiet mrrrrp and a headbutt to his hand, asking for more scratches.
“I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?” Steve mutters as he reaches into the cabinet, pulling Alpine out and clutching her to his chest. “Please don’t scratch me,” he adds as an afterthought. She doesn’t put up a fight, just gives him a cursory sniff before settling back down into his arms.
He can understand why Bucky loves her so much; Steve has known her for all of thirty seconds and he’s already wrapped around her little toe bean.
Art by inflomora-art!
“Hey Buck?” Steve calls out as he exits the bathroom, crossing the short distance to the kitchen with Alpine cradled to his chest, hand gently scratching at the soft fur on her belly. He smiles as he catches sight of Bucky at work by the stove. In the short time that Steve's been gone, Bucky has changed from his clothes into something dry. The clothes are casual, barely a step up from pajamas.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, turning around slowly. “Do you need–” he cuts himself off abruptly, taking in the sight before him. Steve’s standing there, still soaked from head to toe, with Alpine curled up in his arms.
Alpine.
Bucky feels every ounce of tension that he’s been holding for the last several hours leave his body in a rush. He opens and closes his mouth several times before letting out an excited shout.
“Oh my god!” Bucky exclaims, scrambling to close the distance between them. “Oh my god!” Bucky’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, joy spread across his features. He has never seen anything better in his life. “Steve, oh my god!”
Bucky launches himself bodily at Steve, winding his arms around Steve’s neck in a strong hug. Without thinking, he raises up onto his toes and presses a searing kiss to Steve’s lips.
“Where did you find her?” he asks as he reaches forward to pull Alpine into his arms, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. Steve can only stare back, dazed.
“Steve?” he asks, eyes going comically wide as his brain finally comes back online, registering what he just did. “Oh shit, Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think,” he begins, words coming out quick and harsh. “God, what the fuck is wrong with me? I’m so–”
He’s cut off by Steve. “She was in the cabinet, with the towels. Must have been a nice, warm place to nap,” he says with a laugh. Steve’s surprised he’s able to string together a coherent sentence; all he can think about is the feeling of Bucky’s lips against his own.
“Oh, Alpine, I am so mad at you,” Bucky says, unable to hold back a small giggle. He gives the top of Alpine’s head a soft kiss before he puts her back down on the floor. “Steve, I don’t know how to thank you…”
“You don't have to,” Steve shrugs, taking a small step closer to him. “I’m just happy she’s home safe.”
“Thanks to you,” Bucky says, honestly. Bucky’s eyes trace Steve’s features, and he’s suddenly struck by how beautiful he is. Sure, he’d noticed that Steve was good-looking within moments of meeting, but he had been a little preoccupied. Now, in the dim light of his kitchen, Alpine safely in the apartment, it’s all he can focus on.
“I’m sorry, for, uh, kissing you,” Bucky begins, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He watches as Steve’s eyes trace the motion. Huh.
“Don’t be,” Steve says, like it’s as simple as that.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Steve smiles as he takes another step closer to Bucky, closing the distance between them. “Now, I think I remember you saying something about a reward…” he says with a faux-bravado and a teasing laugh that Bucky is unreasonably endeared by.
“I guess I did,” Bucky begins, flashing a coy smile. Encouraged by Steve’s words, he brings a hand up to rest against the nape of Steve’s neck. Under his palm, Bucky can feel the goosebumps that rise on Steve’s skin.
Bucky doesn’t waste any time before stretching up onto his toes, using the hand on Steve’s neck to pull him down into another kiss. It’s tender – soft, even – for a beat before Bucky tilts his head and deepens the kiss, using the hand on Steve’s neck to guide him closer.
Steve’s hands grasp desperately at Bucky’s hips, tugging their bodies closer together. He gasps into the kiss as Bucky nips lightly on his bottom lip before quickly soothing the sharp bites with his tongue.
“God,” Steve says through a sigh, dropping his face to Bucky’s neck and pressing a kiss to the sensitive flesh. “We need to–”
“Yeah.” Though Bucky is nodding against the side of Steve’s head, he makes no move to break away. “I still gotta finish dinner and you need to get dry.”
“Yeah,” Steve repeats, mouth still moving against Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, okay.” He pulls back, and Bucky’s looking so wonderfully disheveled that Steve can’t help but duck down and give him another lingering kiss.
“I’ll just,” he begins, taking a step back, and then another. “Be right back.” Steve jerks his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the bathroom, with a goofy grin on his face. There’s a blush staining his cheeks, disappearing down the collar of his sweater.
Bucky laughs happily, waving a hand in Steve’s direction. “Go! I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Promise?”
“We’re in this together, Stevie,” Bucky says, an echo of Steve’s earlier words. “There’s no way I’m not seeing this through.”
The shower is still running in the other room, and the soup Bucky had set on the stove is surely boiling, but Bucky can’t find himself to care. He watches Steve’s retreating form, bringing his fingers up to trace along his lips. Bucky can still feel the ghost of Steve’s kiss.
“Well, shit,” Bucky giggles as he turns back to the kitchen. Alpine has hopped up on the counter, already fast asleep on Bucky’s laptop bag. Steve’s voice carries through the small apartment, singing loudly and off-key from the shower. Bucky is surprised to find that after such a long, emotional day, he feels content.
Bucky makes quick work of their meal, a few grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It isn’t fancy, but it’s warm and easy to throw together. He’s sliding the last sandwich onto a plate when Steve reappears in the kitchen.
“Hey,” Bucky greets with a warm smile, taking in the man in front of him. The joggers that he had lent Steve are too short – they barely brush his ankles – and Bucky huffs out a small laugh at the sight. “Feeling better?”
Steve nods, crossing the short distance and wrapping an arm around Bucky’s middle. “Much better.” His hair is wet, sticking up in every direction. Bucky finds himself, once again, charmed by Steve Rogers.
Bucky is pulled out of his thoughts by a soft squeeze on his side.
“This okay?” Steve asks, flexing his fingers against the material of Bucky’s shirt.
“Definitely.” Bucky punctuates the word by dropping a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips. “But we should probably eat while the food’s warm.”
The two settle next to each other at Bucky’s kitchen island, their legs tangled together under the counter. They talk quietly, heads dipped close together, as the food slowly disappears between them. They share lingering touches - Bucky's hand against Steve's forearm, a finger gently tucking a stray curl away from Bucky's face. When Steve leaves a bright red smear of tomato on the corner of his mouth, Bucky can't help but lean forward to kiss it away.
It feels like no time has passed by the time neither Steve nor Bucky can get through a sentence without a yawn interrupting.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” Bucky says regretfully, “Didn’t you say you have to work in the morning?”
“Yeah,” Steve begins, the word cut off by another yawn. Bucky gives him a knowing look. “You’re probably right.”
Bucky gives Steve’s hand a quick squeeze before standing. He tugs Steve to his feet before turning to face him once again.
“Hey,” Bucky says, moving to stand in front of the other man. “Steve, I don't know how to thank you for everything that you’ve done for me and Alpine today.”
“Buck,” Steve brings a hand up to rest against the side of Bucky’s neck, his thumb dragging gently across his cheekbone. “I’ve already told you that you don’t have anything to thank me for.”
Bucky shakes his head, careful not to dislodge Steve’s hand. “I was just having the worst night and then you were there and–” he laughs, “I’m just so happy that I ran into you.”
Imagining what his night could have been, the search for Alpine, without Steve by his side was a horrible thought.
“Me too, Buck,” Steve says, ducking down to press his lingering smile against Bucky's lips in a soft kiss, a promise. “Me too.”