Archive of Our Own

Bucky had been in the elevator at his new office for about three seconds - the doors hadn't even closed yet - and he was already freaking out.

He stared at the buttons, one through forty, and realized that he had no clue where he needed to go. Running a frantic hand through his carefully placed hair, he immediately turned his 'I look good without even trying' hairstyle into an 'I do not look good, nor am I trying' hairstyle. This day was already getting out of hand, and he hadn't even actually gotten to work yet.

Thankfully, before Bucky had enough time to properly panic, a hand slid in between the closing elevator doors to keep them open. Attached to the hand was a tall body in a tailored suit, and though that suit seemed to be clinging in all the right places, Bucky kept his eyes strictly upwards as the man stepped smoothly into the elevator. However, that just left Bucky staring into deep, blue eyes and chiseled features, stomach giving a telltale jump as he took in the beautiful person.

Hell, just because he was starting his first day at a new job, and had no clue where he was going, did not mean he couldn't try to flirt a little with the gorgeous man in front of him. Running into someone that looked like this was a rare occasion - he was just Bucky's type: older than him and drop-dead hot.

So, Bucky let his eyes drag up and down the man's figure, checking him out unashamedly. When he made it back up to the man's face, the man was smiling a little, eyebrows raised, but didn't say anything. He simply turned to face the elevator buttons, pressing the thirty-eighth floor as the doors slid shut.

Before Bucky could say anything in an attempt to flirt, the broad-shouldered man, still facing forward, interrupted his thought process. In a deep, smooth voice that Bucky had not properly braced himself for, the man said, "which floor are you headed to?" as his hand stayed hovering over the buttons, waiting for Bucky's response.

Busted. "I, uh... I actually don't know," Bucky said, chuckling a little. "It's my first day, and I'm supposed to be meeting with a Steven Rogers? I think he's pretty high up in the company, and he was away or something during my actual interviews, so I have to meet him now..." Bucky trailed off, realizing he was rambling to an attractive stranger and making the thirty-eight-floor-long elevator ride feel even painfully longer.

The man didn't seem put off by Bucky's clear nervousness. In fact, he had a smile evident in his voice when he replied, "Steve Rogers, you said? That's actually where I'm headed; I can show you the way."

"Well, perfect, then. I guess I got lucky, coming into this elevator at the same time as you." Bucky's flirting skills were rusty, to put it mildly. Or at least, his sober flirting skills were. Practically all the hookups he's had in the past few months had been set up through dating apps or through drunken bar-flirting, which was a very different skill than sober elevator-flirting.

The man made a soft sound of agreement. Bucky figured he wasn't being obvious enough, and was still mostly in friendly territory, so he tried to drive the point home. "Or maybe I haven't quite gotten lucky yet. Maybe you can help me with that later." Bucky held his breath, waiting to see how this man would respond, assuming he was gay or bi, and hopefully interested. Bucky had sort of just guessed that he was into guys, but couldn't quite be sure. From the approximate three seconds of eye contact he'd held with the man when he'd got into the elevator, Bucky had deduced that there was some form of base attraction there.

Finally, the man glanced over his shoulder at Bucky. His blue eyes twinkled in amusement, and Bucky let out an internal sigh of relief. Bucky didn't look away, continuing to take in the man as he casually slipped his hands in his pockets. The man faced forwards again, turning to glance at the screen above the elevator doors that indicated they were on floor seventeen.

It was silent in the elevator for perhaps a second longer than Bucky could stand, before the man let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You're really flirting with me? On your first day of work?"

"What, did you want me to stop?" Bucky quipped back.

"I never said that." Steve replied easily, causing Bucky to grin widely.

His goofy smile could not be seen by the handsome man in front of him, so he didn't make a big effort to hide it. It was quiet for a little while, Bucky basking in his tiny victory of a successful, sober, flirtatious exchange. Before he could properly introduce himself, which was next on his agenda, the elevator made a little 'ding' and the doors slid open at floor thirty-eight.

Apparently the beautiful man was a gentleman as well, holding his arm in front of the door to keep them open, gesturing for Bucky to go through. "After you," he smiled, still managing to seem polite and work-appropriate.

Bucky leaned a little closer to him as he passed through the doors, getting a whiff of vanilla, likely the soap scent from the man's morning shower. "You just want the chance to see me from behind, don't you?"

The man glanced past Bucky, taking note of the empty hallway, before giving Bucky a full, charming grin. Bucky was apparently not ready to have this man's complete attention on him, because his breath went a little funny for a second as he tried to maintain his composure. "You just spent an entire elevator ride standing directly behind me. It's my turn now; that's only fair." And with that, he winked so subtly that Bucky thought he was imagining things.

They stared at each other for a moment, the man exuding impressive confidence, Bucky still feeling tense but a little different than before. After a few seconds, he couldn't stand it any longer. Biting his lip to hide his grin, he turned to stride down the hall, despite having no sense of direction in this building. He could hear the man laugh a little, before following closely behind.

***

Bucky sat on a chair near the receptionist's desk, fiddling with the end of his blue tie; Clint, his roommate, helped him pick it out that morning, insisting that it 'brought out his eyes'. The desk stood in front of a large workspace, with a few cubicles in the center, and glass-walled offices around the exterior. They were relatively empty, as it was around eight o'clock, and this workday started at eight-thirty. Bucky had just arrived early to meet with the mysterious Steven Rogers. The woman sitting behind the receptionist desk paid him no attention, clicking away on her computer and twirling a pen between her fingers. She had long, blonde hair, and was dressed smartly in a lavender blouse.

About three minutes ago, the handsome man had pointed Bucky to the chair he currently occupied, before turning to speak quietly with the woman at the desk. The ease and confidence that this man clearly possessed made Bucky begin to wonder what exactly his job was, and more importantly, if Bucky would get to see him again. The man had then swiftly retreated down the hallway to the elevator, disappearing out of sight, but not before shooting Bucky a small, private wink. Who even winks nowadays? Apparently this man does, and it was messing with Bucky's head.

Currently, Bucky sat quietly on his chair, tapping his fingers anxiously on his leg. He had to regain his focus - he was about to meet his boss, or, well, his boss's boss. He didn't really know who this Steven Rogers was, but he knew he was nervous.

The phone buzzed on the receptionist's desk, and the blonde lady had a fifteen-second quiet conversation that mainly consisted of her saying "yes" and "of course". Finally, she looked up at Bucky. "Mr. Rogers will see you now. Just go down that hall, and you'll see a door past the elevators. That's his office."

Bucky nodded, smoothing down his dress shirt as he stood. "Thank you," he said, heading back down the hallway from which he came.

Of course, as soon as he turned the corner, walking towards him was the golden-haired man from the elevator.

Bucky continued forwards, trying to stay focused and hide his grin, but that was a losing battle. "You again? I must have done something really good in my past life."

The man tilted his head to the side in amusement. "Are you still flirting with me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that not obvious? I can be more transparent about it, if you'd prefer."

The man had turned to walk alongside Bucky towards the frosted glass door at the end of the thin, white-walled hall. They passed the elevators, and Bucky could feel the man glancing at him.

"Hmm, maybe don't do that," he said, "I have a feeling you'd regret it."

"Really? Personally, I don't think either of us would have any regrets."

"This level of comfort," the guy said, gesturing in Bucky's direction, "is impressive for a guy who's about to be grilled by Steve Rogers."

"I'm glad you think I'm impressive," Bucky stopped in front of the door, turning to face the man. After a second, his nervousness increased again as he absorbed what he had said. "Hang on, is this guy really going to grill me? 'Cause they said I already got the job, so I'm not super interview-prepared -"

"I'm messing with you, you'll be fine," the guy brushed him off with a hand gesture, before reaching for the door handle. "Honestly, he's not that big of a deal."

And with that, the man swung the door open for Bucky, once again letting him go first. Bucky assumed that the guy would leave, but instead he followed him inside the room, which Bucky was now realizing was empty.

Two of the room's walls were covered in tall glass windows, looking out over New York. The other two walls were a sleek white, with artfully framed watercolors decorating them. There was a grey couch against the wall nearest to them, and an L-shaped, dark wooden desk by the back window. The room was designed elegantly, but there was nobody else inside of it.

But then Bucky watched as the beautiful man with the deep blue eyes walked around to the desk, taking a seat in the black leather chair behind it. He watched Bucky patiently, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Bucky was having trouble absorbing the clear situation at hand. "Hang on..." The man's lopsided smile seemed to mock Bucky, who was beginning to blush a little.

Finally, he spoke in a bright tone. "Hi, I'm Steve Rogers, it's great to meet you." He gestured to a leather chair across from him, on the other side of the desk.

Bucky slowly took a seat, rubbing his forehead. "You know, you could have told me that a little earlier."

"I probably could have. Wouldn't have been as much fun, though."

Bucky met his teasing eyes with a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, 'cause I'm having a blast."

Steve chuckled, and it was a warm sound that Bucky was really coming to enjoy. He looked down at his desk, pulling some papers towards him, and quickly scanned them with a furrowed brow. "You must be... James Barnes?"

"Bucky. I usually go by Bucky." The heat in his cheeks was beginning to die down a little.

"Bucky it is, then," Steve glanced up at him with a quick smile. Bucky was quickly realizing that he was in trouble - his new boss was one of the most attractive men he's ever seen, and on top of that, he seemed to be sweet and funny, too. After a little more scanning of the papers in front of him, Steve continued to speak. "Alright, so, you'll be working closely with Natasha Romanoff, which is lucky for you; she's great. You'll just head back out to Sharon, the woman at the receptionist's desk, and ask her to point you to Natasha. She'll help you sort yourself out."

"Okay," Bucky said, nodding along. He tried to look as extra-professional as he could to make up for all the mistakes he had made during the last ten minutes.

"This meeting, between us, was supposed to give me a feel for your personality," Steve said, giving Bucky a pointed, but good-natured look, "since I was in Boston on business for the last few weeks, and couldn't make it to your interviews. But, I think I've got a decent idea of you already."

"That I'm an idiot?" Bucky half-joked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of confident."

"Oh," Bucky scratched his ear for something to do with his hands, "um, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve plowed on. "Now, it's fine that you were hired without me meeting you, because I'm not your direct senior, and I trust Maria's judgement. Maria Hill, you've met her?"

"Yeah -"

"She's in charge of you, work-wise. She'll give you all your assignments. If you have any issues, go to her." He looked at Bucky as if waiting for confirmation that he'd understood him. Steve's authoritative tone was causing Bucky to have a bit of trouble concentrating; he was busy wondering, was this attraction to dominance a newfound kink?

Bucky hadn't spoken in an awkwardly long time, so he let out the first thing that came to mind: "So I don't really interact with you much, then, huh?"

Steve, once again, took it in stride. "I guess not. It's a shame, I know." He seemed to be teasing Bucky a little, given the look on his face.

Bucky lifted his chin defiantly. "Are you flirting with me now, Mr. Rogers?"

"God, call me Steve. I'm not eighty years old."

"Sorry, just seventy-five?"

Steve grinned at him, eyebrows raised, seemingly surprised that Bucky, who was in a much lower position than him, and on his first day of work, continued to mess with him. "I'm thirty three, Bucky. And you're..." he looked down at the paper in front of him, which was likely Bucky's file, "twenty four? Jesus, you're young! Okay, yeah, no more flirting."

"Just because I'm young? I'm not even that young!" Bucky remarked.

"Well, it's obviously also super unprofessional. And I'm sorry, too, for going along with it. But no more flirting, for both of us. Better to nip it in the bud. Workplace relationships are allowed, sure, but they have to be taken up with HR. Plus, I have seniority. That just makes everything more complicated."

Bucky sighed, watching Steve with a small, undying smile. This was a bit of an odd situation he had gotten himself into. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have been quite afraid of Steve, considering he was his boss's boss. However, here he was, staring at this gorgeous man with broad shoulders and a lopsided grin, and all he felt was the beginnings of a crush forming. No fear at all. He almost felt... comfortable, in his presence. Like he could say what he wanted to, and Steve would just bounce back with some smart response.

So, it may actually be for the best that Steve was off limits. There was no chance of a relationship, and therefore none of the issues that come along with it. This way, Bucky won't wind up in some complicated, co-dependent relationship where everything eventually crashes and burns, messing him up for a few months or so. He had been trying to avoid that kind of thing. It wasn't that he was afraid of commitment - no, he wanted to find someone he loved and settle down with them at some point - but it just logically made sense to stay away from relationships until he knew he had found the perfect person. And Steve Rogers, his boss's boss, was definitely not the perfect person.

"Alright," he hesitated, thinking through his words, trying to phrase them as professionally as possible, "that makes sense. I really do want to do well here; this position seems to be exactly what I was looking for, and I don't want to mess it up."

Steve was watching him now, almost studiously, as if he was trying to understand what Bucky was thinking. It was a little unsettling, so Bucky spoke some more to fill the silence. "It won't happen again. I'll be professional from here on out, I swear."

Steve looked down at his desk for a moment, before meeting Bucky's gaze. There was a constant intensity in his sparkling blue eyes that made Bucky feel like his brain was being scanned. "Thanks, Bucky. Well, I guess that's all I really had to say," he smiled, standing up. Bucky stood up as well, and they walked back to the door together.

"It was nice to meet you, Steve. I'll see you around, I guess," Bucky said, a little awkwardly, as Steve opened the door.

Steve gave him a charming, effortless grin in return. "I'm glad you've joined us, Buck. I look forward to your future with SHIELD advertising."

Bucky smiled at the nickname. "Me too."

***

Natasha had turned out to be a really lovely person. She had been calculating and guarded for around fifteen minutes upon meeting her, and Bucky had felt like he was in yet another job interview, but she quickly warmed up to him. She and Bucky shared one of the glass-walled offices in the main area, and she was already becoming a close friend. She introduced him to other colleagues, guided him through his responsibilities, and joked around with him when they took short breaks. He was surprised at how comfortable he was soon becoming at his brand new job.

It was now Friday afternoon, and Bucky had been officially working at SHIELD advertising for almost a week at this point. He was more than content with almost everything there: the people were friendly, the work was enjoyable, and his office let in a ton of natural light, which seemed to keep him in a constant good mood. Plus, on Fridays, a lot of the people from work apparently grab drinks at a nearby bar, and had invited Bucky to go with them.

There was only one thing that was beginning to get on his nerves - the fact that he had barely seen Steve Rogers since Monday.

Bucky understood that the guy was important and busy, but he couldn't help anticipating the next time he might get to bump into Steve. Every time someone entered the office, he glanced up. He even walked extra slow on his way to the elevator at the end of the day, in hopes that Steve would open that frosted glass door and join him. However, the door stayed closed, and Bucky stayed disappointed.

The only time he actually did see Steve was on Wednesday morning, and it only managed to make Bucky more riled up about him. Bucky had been leaving the washroom, drying his hands on his dress pants, when he looked towards the receptionist's desk to see Steve Rogers leaning over it, talking to Sharon. Sharon was smiling, talking animatedly, and Bucky could only see Steve's back. He was dressed in a light grey suit, and his golden hair was a little ruffled. The man didn't turn around once as Bucky made it over to his office. Once inside, he couldn't help but unload his thoughts all over Natasha.

"Nat?"

She didn't look up from her computer, taking a long moment to finish reading something before finally responding. "What?"

Bucky hesitated. "I - you know Steve Rogers?"

She finally looked up at him, over her shoulder, with a sarcastic smirk on her face. "Our boss, Steve Rogers? Nope, never heard of him. Do enlighten me."

With that, Natasha adjusted her chair to fully face him. Their desks were pressed against opposite walls, with them sitting closer together, backs to each other. That way, they had a little more space to move around. Bucky stayed standing in front of his desk, looking down at her.

"Well, I, uh, actually flirted with him a fair amount on my first day. And by a fair amount, I mean a lot. I didn't know who he was, and he's really hot! Like, really hot, and then I found out who he was and backed off of course, but I haven't actually talked to him since, and when I don't see him I feel weird, but when I do see him I feel weird. And I can't just not think about it, because he's right down that hall and if I wanted to, I could just walk to his office and, like, climb on him. I don't want to, but if I did, I could, you know? I don't know."

Natasha waited for him to finish his ramble, a small, amused smile on her face and fondness in her eyes. Glancing through the glass wall into the rest of the office, she replied, "Steve's gone now, so you can take a breath. And a seat," she gestured to his chair, and he sunk down into it, facing her.

She continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "So, you can't stop thinking about your hot boss. That's completely normal, James." She hadn't taken to calling him Bucky, declaring it was a toddler's nickname. He didn't quite mind, though, when it was her calling him James.

"It is?"

"I mean, what do you usually do when you meet someone hot?"

Bucky shrugged. "If they're interested, I sleep with them. If not, I forget about it and move on."

She nodded to herself, therapist-mode activated. Natasha easily made uncomfortable conversations a lot more comfortable to talk about, like when she had breached the topic of his sexuality after Bucky had told her an anecdote about an ex-boyfriend, inadvertently revealing the fact that he was indeed gay. "Alright, well, this makes perfect sense, then. Steve's off-limits, so you can't really know if he's interested or not. So, you can't sleep with him, and you can't really forget about it either."

Bucky drummed his hands on his thighs, absorbing this logical analysis but still not really seeing a solution. "Then... what do I do?"

Nat tucked a piece of red hair behind her ear. "I don't have all the answers, James," she rolled her eyes. "Just give it time, I guess. It's probably just, like, the novelty. Once you seem him a million times, he won't be that..."

"Distractingly hot?" Bucky offered, when she paused to find the right words.

"Exactly." And that was that.

Over the next two days, Bucky had kept his nose buried in his first big assignment: designing a logo for an up-and-coming clothing brand. He drew several rough sketches, ran them by a pleased Maria, and then turned the best three into properly designed logos. This proved to be a good distraction - he wasn't glancing at the door every minute, and he was actually enjoying himself.

Now, it was Friday afternoon, and everyone seemed to be hurriedly finishing their last few assignments for the week so that they wouldn't have to do any extra work over the weekend. Bucky had just picked up the sheet with his designs on it from the printer. SHIELD clearly had some extra money in the budget, because that printer was unnecessarily fancy, in Bucky's personal opinion. The buttons were excessive, and he had printed two copies in black and white before finally figuring out how to turn on the color feature.

Maria had an office to herself at the back of the room, and Bucky knocked lightly on her glass door before opening it a crack. Maria was sitting at her desk, typing quickly at her computer. She looked up, smiling gently at Bucky as he peeked his head through the door.

She gave him her full attention. "What can I do for you, Bucky?"

"Sorry to bother you, I just finished these designs and was wondering what to do now? Should I make more, or, like, make these ones better?"

He handed her the sheet, and she slipped on her reading glasses to examine it. Maria was definitely intimidating, but she seemed to like Bucky's work so far, so he wasn't too concerned about her hating it.

"No, these are great," she said, pausing to look over them some more. "Yeah, these are really well done. Well, it looks like we've made a good choice hiring you; how has your first week been?"

Bucky was relieved by her approval. "Oh, it's been really nice. Natasha's great, too, and I love the work."

"Well, you're certainly good at it. And I'm glad to hear you and Natasha get along well, I thought you would," Maria said, getting distracted by a 'ding' from her computer. "Have a good weekend, Bucky." Suddenly, the phone on her desk began to ring loudly. She turned to pick it up, and sighed, clearly in need of a break. Bucky headed back over to the door, not wanting to take up more of this busy woman's time.

He was halfway through the doorway when she spoke once more. "Bucky, since you're done a bit early, do you think you could take this to Mr. Rogers? Usually I would, but I'm a little swamped right now," she said, covering the mouthpiece of her phone, and nodding towards the paper he had left on her desk.

"Oh, um, sure," Bucky hesitantly retrieved the paper, a little tingle going through him at the thought of getting to see Steve again. He tried to ignore it, giving Maria a bright smile. "I'll go give it to him right away."

***

"Come in," Steve's deep voice was slightly muffled as he called from inside his office. Bucky peeked his head through the crack in the door before fully entering the room. Steve was seated at his desk, tie loosened a little, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Bucky had trouble averting his eyes from the disheveled, work-worn look that Steve was presenting. It made Bucky want to run his hands through that golden hair, unbutton those buttons, and loosen that tie just a bit more.

Steve looked up from the papers on his desk, meeting Bucky's gaze with a surprised grin. "Well, if it isn't Bucky Barnes."

Bucky laughed a little. "I didn't think you'd remember my name," he half-joked, walking over to Steve's desk.

"Really? Why's that?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know, you seem important. Too busy to remember names of people you barely know."

"Mm. A common misconception," Steve replied.

"Still, I haven't seen you all week. What, are you too fancy to come say 'hi' to your employees once in a while?" Bucky should probably be a little less casual around his boss's boss, shouldn't he? Oh well, they had already developed a sort of banter between them, and it was too late for Bucky to suddenly become professional and fearful of Steve Rogers.

"Wrong again. I came by your office yesterday - I was going to check in to see how things were going, but you looked hard at work and I didn't want to interrupt."

Bucky paused, stunned. "Oh."

"Yeah. I'll say 'hi' next time."

"You'd better."

"I will."

"And often, too."

"Oh, really? How often are we talking?" Steve humored him a little, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

"I'm talking every day."

"Every day? Jeez, Bucky, this is a bit demanding for someone who's worked here for, like, five days, don't you think?" Steve was clearly messing with him; he actually looked quite pleased with Bucky's comments.

"So what? You're nice to talk to." And wow, that was just a ridiculous thing to say to a man who could fire him immediately.

Steve rolled his eyes, teasingly, "I do have a job, Bucky. I can't just visit everyone's offices all day."

"I didn't say everyone."

"Well, I can't play favorites, you know."

"I wouldn't mind it."

"Careful, Buck," Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Remember our deal? Professional."

Bucky licked his lips, which had gone dry, and nodded. Of course Steve was the one to bring them back to formality. It seemed like Bucky was going to embarrass himself ten times a week, at this rate.

Clearing his throat, he remembered what he was there for, and held out the paper in his hands. "Believe it or not, I actually came here for a work reason. Maria sent me to give this to you," he said, placing the sheet on Steve's desk.

Steve picked up the paper, and as he examined it, Bucky noticed the shift in Steve's demeanor from relaxed and friendly to critical and professional. For some reason, Bucky found himself a little turned on. He also found himself incredibly nervous; Steve was the design head at SHIELD, so obviously Bucky was near desperate for him to like his work. The silence stretched on for way too long, in Bucky's opinion, before Steve finally broke it.

"You did these?" He looked up at Bucky, his blue eyes curious.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. "Um, yeah."

The corner of Steve's mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, and Bucky felt a wave of relief. "I think they're really well done," Steve said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. No offense, but I thought I'd have to make a bunch of edits, since you're new and all. But I can't think of anything I would change."

Bucky felt his whole body relax. "Cool, yeah... I was a little worried about the blue outline on the letters, because it's pretty dark, but I didn't want to go lighter because then it was just distracting."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I agree. It works. All three are great, Buck, honestly. And I like that they're all relatively different - it'll make it easier to decide between them. I like this one the best," he said, pointing to the one that was coincidentally Bucky's favorite as well, "but I'll leave it up to the actual company to decide between these three."

"Thanks."

Steve looked back up at him, still smiling crookedly. "Looks like we're gonna have to give you something harder next week."

"I'm sure Maria will. She said this was sort of a test, to see how I'd handle a proper assignment. But I don't think she's going to take it easy on me much longer."

"Let's hope not. You deserve a challenge, that way you can get better."

"That's true."

"And if you get better, and more experienced, maybe I'll see you around more. On work-related projects, not just those office visits you've demanded from me."

"So you're actually gonna come by, then?" Bucky, who was still standing, slipped his hands into his pockets, keeping his eyes on Steve.

Steve shrugged. "We'll see."

Bucky just laughed, shaking his head a little. Steve watched him, a small, fond smile remaining on his face.

After a few moments, Bucky looked down at his feet. "Anyway, sorry to interrupt your work," he said, beginning to walk backwards to the door, despite wanting to stay and talk to Steve longer. That would probably toe the professional line that Steve had drawn for them. "I'll see you around."

"No, you didn't interrupt at all. In fact, I was sort of procrastinating some boring work, so I really didn't mind," Steve assured him.

Bucky had just reached the door, but now walked a little closer to Steve's desk again, grasping at another conversation he might be able to have. "Boring work? Aren't you the Creative Head here?

Steve let out a chuckle. "Yeah, but it turns out that being the Creative Head doesn't mean I can actually be creative. Things have been super administrative lately, so I have to pass the fun stuff on to you guys."

"That sucks," Bucky said, for lack of better words.

Steve nodded, fiddling with a pen on his desk. "It's just a rough spot, I think. This happens every few months; I have to get all executive and business-minded, and the designing falls to the wayside for a bit. Even though the designing is why I'm here. It always gets back on track soon enough though. Just gotta push through the business meetings and paperwork, and I'll hopefully be back to being creative in a few weeks. That's what I actually love doing."

Bucky hums in affirmation, watching the handsome man in front of him click the top of his pen, over and over. After a second, Steve laughed a little, seemingly to himself. He kept his eyes on the pen in his hands. "You know, I don't usually have conversations like this with people I barely know."

"Good. I'm special then."

Steve snorted, not fully acknowledging Bucky's statement. Instead, he finally looked up at Bucky, motioning for him to come closer. Bucky obeyed curiously, happy to have a reason to stay.

"Do you have a lot of work left?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, I'm done for the day. I was actually going to head home now before I went to the bar. Are you going?"

Steve didn't take a moment to think about it. "I don't usually go, so probably not."

Bucky ignored the disappointment he felt at that - he was getting to talk to Steve right now, what more could he ask for? "Alright," he said, lamely.

Steve just stood up, flipping through a sketchbook that had been lying open on his desk. "Come around," he told Bucky, who cautiously stepped around the desk, a little excited to see what Steve had to show him.

"So, instead of working, I was taking a little sketch break. I wanted to get an opinion on something," he said, focused on flipping though his sketchbook. "I always have trouble figuring out whether to leave things black and white or to add color. If I could just find the page..."

He continued to flip through the book, not remaining on a page long enough for Bucky to see any specifics, when they were both startled by a knock on the door. "Come in," Steve called, looking up.

Sharon entered the office, heels clacking on the hardwood floor. Bucky stepped back around the desk as casually as he could, but she paid him no attention. Her eyes were fixed on Steve, and Bucky suddenly felt a little awkward remaining in the office.

"I just have some invoices for you to quickly look over," she said, walking over to place papers on his desk. Steve looked conflicted for a moment, sketchbook still open in his hands. She smiled at him, and Bucky couldn't really tell if it was a friendly smile or a flirty smile; either way, she was a gorgeous blonde woman and he wished she hadn't interrupted them. He really wanted to see Steve's sketches.

Still, the moment was over, and Steve had just snapped the sketchbook shut, so Bucky said, "I'm gonna head out. Thanks, Steve."

"Oh, um, okay," Steve said, a little flustered for a moment. "I guess I can get your opinion later? Unless... Sharon, do these have to be done right away?"

Sharon glanced at Bucky, a question in her eyes, surely about whatever opinion Steve wanted from him. She then turned back to Steve and said, matter-of-factly, "well, the sooner they're done, the better."

Bucky, a little disappointed, backed towards the door. "It's all good, I'll see you both on Monday," he said, with a parting smile.

"You're not going to the bar tonight?" Sharon asked.

"Oh, yeah, I am. So I guess I'll see you there, then?" Bucky didn't mind Sharon - she was nice, and seemed smart. However, she also seemed to be close with Steve, and he wasn't a big fan of that.

"Guess so," she nodded, turning back to Steve, who was holding the invoices but looking up at Bucky.

Bucky looked at him, hand on the doorknob. "I think you should add color. To your sketch, I mean. If you like it, and if you know exactly what you want to add to it, then I say go for it. Makes it pop."

Steve seems to contemplate that for a moment, before flashing a quick grin at him. "Duly noted."

Bucky doesn't have anything else to say, and Sharon is giving him a confused look, so he nods awkwardly before slipping out the door. He can hear Steve and Sharon talking and laughing as he walks back down the hall, and he tries not to acknowledge how that makes him feel.

***

"Honey, I'm home!" Bucky called, his apartment door slamming shut behind him.

After a moment, a blond head popped up over the back of the couch. "You couldn't have come in any quieter?"

"I like to announce myself," Bucky replied, unloading his pockets (keys, phone, and wallet) on the table near the door. "It feels dramatic."

"Well, drama queen, I was sleeping."

"Well, sleeping beauty, I apologize," Bucky mimicked him lightheartedly.

"Hmph," his roommate grunted, flopping back onto the couch cushions.

Clint Barton had been Bucky's best friend in college; they moved in together at the start of their third year. Four years later, and things were almost exactly the same, except for the fact that Bucky now had a nine-to-five of sorts, and Clint was playing bass for his band on weekends and getting the rest of his income by bartending.

"But why are you sleeping at, like, four-thirty in the afternoon?" Bucky walked around the couch to see him properly.

"Late shift last night," Clint said, eyes closed. "Tired. Just napping."

"Alright, well, I'm actually heading back out."

Clint cracked open an eyelid at that. "Where?"

Bucky shrugged, heading into his bedroom through a door on the left. "A bar. It's a few blocks from here," he called out to Clint, squeezing into his tiny closet and rummaging through his clothes. Should he change? Would it look weird if he changed? Probably. He was definitely taking off the tie, though.

"With who?" Clint asked from the couch.

Bucky loosened his tie, tossing it onto his bed. "People from work."

Clint hesitated, eyeing him curiously as Bucky emerged from his room. "You mean hot boss?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "No, not hot boss."

"That sucks."

"I really don't care, actually."

"Sure you don't."

"I don't!" Bucky said, indignantly.

Clint just watched him, still lying horizontally across the worn, grey couch.

Bucky finally added, "I talked to him today, though. So we're good."

Clint sat up, eyebrows raised. "What did you talk about?"

"You know. Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I don't know, just work stuff."

"Like about how much it sucks that he's your boss because you really want him to nail you?" Clint said casually, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

"No. And nobody calls sex, 'nailing', anymore, grandpa."

"Oh, don't act like I'm old. We're the same age."

Bucky laughed a little, unbuttoning his top shirt button. "Do you think I should change?"

"Nah, that'd be weird. Most people will probably go straight from work, right? They won't change." He paused. "Why do you care about it so much if hot boss isn't gonna be there?"

"Just in case he is."

"Oh, so he didn't say no?"

"He said probably not."

"That's not a no!"

"I know, that's why I'm trying not to look terrible!"

Clint seemed to get a small burst of energy from that. "Sleep with him! Just sleep with him. Yes, he's your boss, but you said that Maria chick is in charge of the hiring and firing for your department, so you don't really have to worry about that complication. And then there's the fact that you're lonely as hell, no offense, and I am concerned that you haven't really bounced back from the Pierce situation all that well. And on top of all that, he's also apparently super hot. According to you, at least."

"Was that your thesis statement?" Bucky asked.

"On why you should sleep with your hot boss?" Clint smirked up at him. "Yes. And I think I make some good points."

"Well, you're wrong then."

"How am I wrong?"

"First, its frowned upon to date your boss, Clint. Second, I'm not lonely, Alex was a dick, and I'm over it. And third, just because he's hot doesn't mean he thinks the same about me."

Clint laughed loudly. "Bucky, if he likes men, I assure you he thinks you're hot. I'm straight, and I think you're hot."

"Did I just hear a compliment out of Mr. Barton's mouth?"

"Cherish it. They're rare."

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past the couch, back towards the front door. He slipped his keys, phone, and wallet back into his pockets - wondering why he took them out in the first place - and told Clint: "I'll be back at...some point? Don't be worried if I'm out late."

"I'm not gonna worry, I'm not your mom. In fact, I'd be proud."

Bucky left his apartment with a smile on his face.

***

The bar had good drinks and dim lighting, and Bucky tried to enjoy himself. He did actually have a good time for the first hour or so, getting to know Jane from accounting and Darcy from HR. He got along great with both of them, and was feeling a happy buzz by around six o'clock.

But after that point, it became obvious that Steve was not coming. Bucky still watched the door for most of the night, though.

And although he had declined a few drink offers from various men at first, he finally said yes to one with dark brown hair and strong arms, who smelled nice and told friendly jokes. A few of his coworkers wolf-whistled at him as they headed out together, and Bucky tried not to think about Steve that much as they walked back to his place.

He tried not to think about it being Steve on top of him when he was spread out on the bed, fifteen minutes later.

But even if he didn't succeed, what did it matter?

***

Bucky had woken up late on Saturday morning, sore and a little hungover. A slip of paper with a phone number lay on the pillow next to him. He added the number to his phone, under the name 'Josh' (which he almost had trouble remembering), and spent the rest of his day watching television and trying to cook a lasagna that didn't turn out half-bad.

The weekend flew by, and Bucky didn't feel guilty about being glued to the couch. He had successfully kept his job for a week, and he thought he deserved a little rest and relaxation.

But on Monday morning, all the nervous energy came rushing back as he realized that Steve might be coming by today. To say 'hi'.

So Bucky put on a clean white button-down, his most snug grey suit pants, and the blue tie that Clint kept insisting 'brought out his eyes'.

And he was right; at one thirty, right after Bucky had gotten back from his lunch break, Steve Rogers strolled into the office, casual and confident as usual. He stopped to chat with Sharon at the front desk, giving Bucky enough time to notice him, and nervously whisper to Natasha, "pretend you're working."

Natasha's head was bent over a paper on her desk, red curls falling on both sides of her face. "I am working."

"Good, I will too."

"Smart choice, considering you're being paid to do that."

Bucky didn't respond, anxiously turning to his laptop and clicking open a document he had been working on before lunch. He refused to look at the glass wall to his left, but could eventually see Steve approaching out of the corner of his eye.

"Hi," Steve said, knocking lightly on the glass door, which had been propped open by a little wooden triangle. Bucky waited a little before turning to face the door, taking his time so that Steve wouldn't think he had just been waiting for his arrival.

Steve looked about good enough to eat, in Bucky's opinion. He wore tight, navy blue suit pants, with his white shirt neatly tucked into them, and a thin navy tie was loosened around his neck. Bucky tried to check him out at subtly as possible, but figured that he had failed at the subtlety when his eyes finally met Steve's, which twinkled with amusement.

"Hi, Steve," Natasha said, tucking her loose hair behind her ears as she looked up at their boss. "How are you?"

Steve turned to face her, giving her a friendly smile in return. "Good, you?"

"I'm alright," she replied, glancing at Bucky, hiding her confusion well. "Can we do anything for you?"

"Oh, no," Steve said a little awkwardly. Bucky found it absolutely adorable, and a great contrast to the typical confident Steve. Then Steve turned his gaze to Bucky. "I just came to say hi."

Natasha looked between them both, now openly confused. "Um, okay? Hi, then."

"Hi," Bucky echoed, and could immediately feel himself blushing. Steve watched him fondly as he scrambled for something to say. "So, did you, uh, have a nice weekend?"

"Yeah, did you?"

"Mine was good."

"That's good," Steve said, and Bucky nodded. He didn't leave though, or say goodbye, and Bucky gave a quick look to Natasha, who seemed to be amused by the whole thing. She turned back to her work; Natasha was very perceptive, and had quickly picked up on the fact that Steve had evidently come to see Bucky.

Steve didn't seem like he wanted to leave just yet. "Did you end up having a good time at the bar on Friday?"

Bucky shut his laptop, hoping Steve would take that as a hint that Bucky wanted to talk to him, too. "Yeah, I did. I got to know Jane and Darcy. It was nice, I had fun."

"That's good to hear. I'm glad so many people go every Friday. It's great to be friends with the people you work with."

"So why don't you go to the bar, then?" Bucky asked, rolling up his shirtsleeves. "Too cool for friends?"

Steve chuckled, looking at his feet. "I have friends, Bucky. Outside of the office. Nobody wants their boss to go drinking with them after work, it's weird."

"It's not weird, just don't act like a boss," Bucky shrugged. "Everyone here likes you, you know."

"Oh, do they?" Steve grinned at him.

"I think a little bit." Bucky was having trouble holding eye contact for long, out of fear of getting distracted and saying something stupid.

Steve laughed lightly, shaking his head and slipping his hands into his pockets. "Still, I think I'll leave the drinking to you guys. Don't wanna do something I'll regret in front of a bunch of people I work with."

"Oh, James will prove to be good at that," Natasha, who was still looking at the papers on her desk, cut in, a smirk in her voice.

"Hey, I've known you a week!" Bucky turned to face her, indignant. "I've only drank in front of you once!"

Natasha leaned back in her chair. "You've told me stories."

Bucky ignored Steve's look of interest. "I didn't do anything bad on Friday, though."

"Nothing bad, sure. Impulsive? Yes."

"Really? What did you do?" Steve asked with a curious smile.

"Nothing!" Bucky said, feeling his face heat up again.

"Oh, it's fine," Natasha said, waving him off. "If I got hit on by, like, fourteen strangers, I would go home with one of them, too."

Steve didn't say anything, just turned to Bucky with raised eyebrows. Bucky felt a little awkward, because of whatever flirtation they'd had, and strictly avoided looking at him. He couldn't deny that he had non-platonic feelings for Steve, and he was worried he wouldn't see any reaction at all. A little jealousy, a little emotion would be appreciated. So he kept his eyes on Natasha.

"One-night-stands are normal," he said, feigning defiance. "Excuse me for, uh, appreciating my body and wanting to have a good time."

"Sure, they're normal. But this guy, Steve," she turned to Steve, who looked a little stiff, drawing him back into the conversation, "this guy was a bit weird."

Before Steve could respond, Bucky cut in, frowning. "He was not!"

"Yeah, he was. He interrupted me mid-sentence, and literally asked you 'my place, or yours?' That's the first thing he said."

"Straight to the point."

"Still weird," she shrugged, turning to Steve. "Right, Steve?"

Steve held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, don't involve me in this. I don't know, maybe he's just forward." Bucky's heart sank at the indifference in his tone. Then Steve let out a little laugh, turning to Bucky. "But, I mean, at least you had fun."

"Sure did." Bucky smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Steve's face was unreadable, and Bucky was suddenly struck with how odd this situation was. Here he was, casually talking to his boss's boss - who was super hot, by the way - about his sex life. In his office. It was rapidly becoming clear that whatever interest Steve has shown towards Bucky a week ago was no longer there. Steve had clearly managed to squash the attraction he had initially had for Bucky, and Bucky felt that it would probably be best for his dignity if he did the same.

So, Bucky looked straight into Steve's deep blue eyes, and said, as friendly as possible, "well, you should probably go, Steve. You've got a company to run. Can't spend all day chatting with your employees."

Steve looked surprised at that, which made sense, considering Bucky had told him to come by in the first place. He nodded slowly, looking away from Bucky, sheepish. "Yeah, guess you're right. I just needed a little work break; it was nice to talk to you both."

Natasha, who had just finished shooting Bucky a puzzled look, looked up at Steve, hovering in the doorway. "It was nice talking to you too. You should come by more often, it makes you seem less scary and distant."

"I seem scary and distant?" Steve looked concerned.

"No, no, but talking to your employees every now and again doesn't hurt."

Steve fiddled with the bottom of his tie. He almost looked...uncomfortable? Bucky had never seen him like that before. "Sorry for not coming by earlier."

"Steve, don't apologize," Natasha laughed. "It's just good to talk to you."

Steve tried to hide his grin. "Thanks, Natasha. That's nice. Maybe I'll come to the bar on Friday, then."

Bucky threw up his hands. "So you'll listen to her when she says it? But not me?"

Natasha smirked. "I have that effect on people."

Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve laughed good-naturedly, backing out of the office.

"See you tomorrow," Bucky said, trying not to sound hopeful.

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "I'm actually going out of town for a few days."

"Oh?" Bucky was sure the disappointment was clear on his face.

"Yeah. I should be back on Thursday night, though."

"Okay," Bucky didn't know what else to say. "Well, bye, Steve."

Steve shot him one last little smile. "See you both on Friday."

And with that, he strode out of the office.

***

By the time Bucky arrived at the bar on Friday night, nearly everyone from the office was already there. He had stayed late at work to finalize a design he had spent all week on, and made it to the bar a half hour later than planned. Natasha spotted him immediately, striding up to him with a beer in hand.

"James!" She grinned at him. Natasha was a lot less intimidating after two or three beers. "Let's get you a drink."

Bucky let her grab his arm and drag him to the bar, while he tried to subtly glance around at their coworkers. It was apparently not very subtle, because as soon as she had ordered his drink, Natasha raised her eyebrows at him.

"You looking for Steve?"

"No," Bucky said, quickly.

"He's not here."

Bucky faltered. "Oh."

"Yeah," she said, as he accepted his drink from the bartender. "He's probably late."

"Probably," he echoed, nodding.

Natasha seemed to analyze his expression, which he tried to keep neutral. "You actually like him, don't you." It wasn't even a question.

Bucky shrugged. "I mean, I told you already. He's hot."

"But watching you two talk, when he came by our office on Monday? It seemed like you had a crush on him."

"Nat, I'm not thirteen, don't call it a crush," Bucky said, fiddling with the paper on his bottle. "And was I obvious?"

"You were. So was he, though."

Bucky looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

Just as she opened her mouth, a tall, lean man with dark brown hair approached them. He smiled confidently at the pair.

"Can I buy either of you a drink?"

Natasha snorted a laugh, before turning to face the man. "You can buy James here a drink, but I'm not looking for anything."

"Fair enough," the man said, turning to Bucky with eyebrows raised. "So, James, what do you say?"

"I actually go by Bucky," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "But, um, you can buy my next one," he held up his half-finished beer bottle.

"I will," the man said, grinning. Natasha left them to talk, heading towards Jane and Darcy. The women sat at a table against the wall, chatting happily. "I'm Matt." He stuck out his hand, which Bucky shook once.

"Well, Matt, it's nice to meet you," Bucky replied. As he began a conversation with this relatively attractive guy, thoughts of his boss slowly slipped from his mind. Matt was friendly and seemingly smart, and Bucky wasn't about to turn down free drinks and decent sex for a boss who he couldn't have and who wasn't there.

Ten minutes later, Bucky was onto his second beer (courtesy of Matt), and their knees were bumping into each other as they sat on wooden stools at the bar. Bucky laughed loudly when Matt told a joke, leaning forward towards him, and it was at that moment that a certain blonde man appeared in his peripheral vision. His smile faded a little, and Matt must have noticed, because he immediately looked around, asking what was wrong.

Bucky shook his head. "Oh, nothing. My boss just got here."

Matt nodded sympathetically, looking back at Bucky. "He's not a friendly guy?"

"He's alright. I just... I don't know where I stand with him. If he likes me or not. It makes me uncomfortable."

Matt chuckled a little. "I think a lot of people feel like that about their bosses."

"I guess you're right," Bucky said, placing his empty bottle back down on the counter.

"Do you want another one?"

Bucky smiled at the kindness, but shook his head. "No, I'm good. Thanks though."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I don't wanna get drunk and embarrass myself today."

Matt laughed. "Maybe another day?"

"Definitely," Bucky joked. "When my boss isn't here, of course."

"Mm," Matt said in response. He looked around thoughtfully, before turning back to Bucky. "We could always get out of here. Go back to my place. If that's what you want, I mean."

Bucky hesitated, unsure of what to do. He was getting along well with Matt, and was planning on going home with him at the end of the night. On the other hand, Steve had just shown up, and Bucky had told him to come, so he was probably expecting to talk to Bucky. And on top of that, Bucky still didn't know where he stood with Steve: were they coworkers, friends, or something a little more? Should he stay and figure it out?

Just as Matt's face was falling in disappointment, Bucky spoke up. "I want that," he said, smiling. "I'm just going to let my friends know that I'm leaving."

"Of course," Matt said, staying seated as Bucky got off his stool, "I'll be here."

Bucky paused for a moment, before leaning down and giving Matt a quick kiss on the cheek. He squeezed his shoulder. "Okay. I'll be right back."

He straightened back up, turning to look for Natasha and the rest of his coworkers. Instead, he came face to face with Steve Rogers, who had his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised.

Bucky inhaled sharply. "Oh, um, hi, Steve."

"Hi," he said, expressionless. They stared at each other for the longest five seconds of Bucky's life, before Steve turned to Matt, who was pretending to mind his own business. "Sorry, pal," Steve said, "mind if I steal Bucky for a moment?"

"No, go ahead," Matt said, looking at Bucky with a smile. "I can wait."

Bucky met his gaze, grinning crookedly. If he hadn't been completely infatuated with Steve, he might have wanted more than a one night stand with Matt. He seemed to click with Bucky, and they had only just met. Still, as it was, Steve Rogers was requesting his presence; Bucky couldn't help the butterflies that burst to life in his stomach as he followed Steve to a little wooden table in a dimly lit corner of the bar.

Steve pulled out his chair for him, and Bucky grew more and more restless as he slid into the seat. "So, what's going on?"

"Hm?" Steve said, sitting down across from him.

"Did you need something from me?"

Steve looked taken aback. "I mean..." he shook his head, "I thought you wanted me here."

Bucky didn't know what to say. "I did. I do."

"So, we should talk then. Get to know each other."

Bucky looked at him incredulously. "Seriously?"

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, isn't that what you wanted? For us to talk more?"

"I mean, yeah. But that's weird though, if you don't talk to anyone else."

"I just finished talking to everyone else."

"Oh. Okay." Bucky picked at the edge of the table, avoiding Steve's eyes.

He could feel Steve watching him with concern. "Are you okay?"

Bucky forced a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I don't know, something just seems off."

"Well, nothing's off."

Steve sighed. "Bucky, come on."

Bucky just stared at him, waiting for him to drop it. When Steve didn't say anything for a few long moments, he finally caved. "Look, it doesn't matter. I can't explain it anyways."

"Why not?" Steve challenged him.

"Because it's... unprofessional." He felt his cheeks heat up a little, refusing to meet Steve's look of surprise.

Steve glanced over his shoulder to where the rest of their coworkers gathered. They were all talking and drinking amongst themselves, not paying any attention at all to Steve and Bucky. "Well, we're not at work right now. It's okay."

Bucky felt a little irritated. "But when we go back to work, we'll have to be professional again."

Steve scratched his jaw for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. "I guess so. Hang on, though. So, what you're saying is that whatever is bothering you will affect our professional relationship?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yes, boss," he said, sarcastically.

"Hey," Steve said, defensively. "I'm just trying to figure out how to fix this." He gestured between the both of them.

"Nothing needs fixing."

Steve groaned. "Do you really want to keep going in circles, here?"

"No," Bucky said, a little harsher than planned. "What I want is to head home with the nice guy I met at the bar. But instead I'm getting grilled by my boss's boss."

"I'm not grilling you," Steve snapped. "And you're welcome to leave with him."

Bucky stayed put, looking down at the table. After a moment of charged silence, he spoke quietly. "I think I like you. That's the problem."

He didn't see Steve's reaction, but he heard his controlled reply. "Oh. That's okay. I'm okay with that. But you obviously can't act on it."

Bucky scoffed, shooting Steve a glare. "Really? 'I'm okay with that?' That's what you have to say?"

Steve looked exhausted, both from a long week and from this argument that neither of them could win. "What do you want me to say, Buck?"

As Bucky tried to come up with a response to that, he was struck by the harsh reality of it all: Steve Rogers had outright rejected him. There was nothing between them, it was completely one-sided, and Bucky was being ridiculous for expecting anything of the man in front of him.

After a long pause, he leaned back in his seat. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Steve said, courteous as usual.

Bucky rested his head in his hands, elbows on the table, feeling like a complete idiot. "I made it weird, didn't I?"

"I don't think so. I'm flattered, actually."

Bucky let out a short laugh. "That doesn't make it any easier for me."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

Bucky sat back again, running his hands through his disheveled hair. He was still somewhat buzzed from the two beers - he was a bit of a lightweight - and couldn't help the ramble that fell out of his mouth: "I really am sorry, though, Steve. You're my boss; I know that. I know it can't happen, but you're still you and I don't know if you've noticed, but you're really fucking hot."

Steve chuckled, but didn't say anything. He seemed to be waiting for Bucky to continue.

Bucky drummed his fingers anxiously on the table. "God, sorry for saying that. And sorry for being harsh, I'm going to blame it on the beer, I think."

"Good idea." Steve just seemed amused.

"But I have one question."

"Ask away."

"If I didn't work for you, like, say we just met at this bar," he glanced nervously into Steve's eyes. "Would you go home with me?"

Steve frowned, looking off to the side. He didn't speak for a moment. "I don't think I can answer that, Buck."

Bucky knew the disappointment was evident on his face. "Because it would hurt my feelings?"

"Buck-"

"It's fine," he cut him off, not wanting to hear it. "It's alright. I, uh, I have to go, anyways. Thanks for the chat, Steve."

Steve looked distraught. "It wasn't really a chat."

Bucky shrugged. "I guess not. We can talk later, then."

"Or you could stay," Steve said, sounding hopeful.

As much as he wanted to spend time with Steve, Bucky was beginning to feel bad for leaving Matt at the bar for so long. "I can't. Somebody's waiting for me."

"Oh. Yeah," Steve watched him as he rose from his chair. "Well. Have fun, Bucky."

"Thanks. See you at work," Bucky said, before spinning on his heel and walking back towards the bar. Matt was on the same stool as before, scrolling through his phone.

Bucky tried to wipe his conflicting emotions off his face. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, where Steve was still seated. When Steve met his eyes, Bucky quickly turned around to face away from him. It wasn't going to happen; Steve didn't want him, and Bucky was sure of that. Unfortunately, Bucky was also coming to realize that these one night stands wouldn't help him forget about Steve - it might just make him think of him more. So when he reached Matt, he did what he had to do, and asked:

"Do you maybe want to put my number in that phone?"

Matt grinned back up at him, and Bucky thought that maybe this was a good idea.

***

Time flew by for the rest of September as Bucky developed a routine with his work, new friends, and new relationship. Sure, seeing Steve was a little awkward for another week or so, but looking back, Bucky could acknowledge all the humiliation he created for himself. He definitely did not want to go back to fawning over Steve, and besides, he felt happy enough with Matt.

On Wednesdays at noon, Matt had made a habit of meeting Bucky outside the office so they could grab a quick lunch together. It was the third week in a row that they had done this, and Bucky had come to look forward to his time spent with Matt. At first, it had simply been a distraction, but they had now grown a lot closer, and Bucky was surprisingly content with that.

Bucky slipped on a light jacket to deal with the late September chill and shut his laptop. Before he could leave, Natasha was stepping past the glass door and into their office, sitting down at her desk. "You headed out?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go meet Matt for lunch."

"That's cute." She watched him carefully as he buttoned up his jacket. She didn't say anything else, but kept her eyes on him.

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "What is it?"

"No, it's nothing, I'm happy for you."

"Me too," Bucky said.

"I'm just a little surprised, that's all."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you didn't do relationships."

He shrugged. "I mean, it's only been a month."

"That's a lot longer than a one night stand," she said, smiling up at him. "I really am happy for you James, this seems healthy."

"Thanks, Nat," he said, nodding once. But even as he said it, he could feel the tension that always arose whenever he thought about a long term relationship with Matt. It wasn't that he didn't like him - he definitely did - it was just hard for Bucky to differentiate between liking him as a friend versus as a boyfriend. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd love a friendship with Matt. But romantically, he felt like there was something missing. Sure, the sex was great, but the butterflies weren't there. Were they supposed to be there? They were there with Steve, but that was a whole different situation that really can't compare.

Speaking of which - "So, this means you've got over Steve?" Natasha twirled a pen between her fingers.

Bucky really didn't know the answer to that one. "I mean, he's still crazy hot. But I do think I'm over it. I don't really see him anymore, though, so maybe that's what did it."

Ever since that night at the bar, when Bucky had shared his feelings with Steve, he hadn't seen him around at all. Steve didn't drop by his office, he didn't come to the last two bar nights, and Bucky never managed to run into him anywhere else. The most he had seen him was from a distance, leaned over Sharon's desk and talking animatedly with her as he often did. Over the past few weeks, the jealousy he felt when he saw them together had thankfully been dying down, little by little. Bucky took that as a positive sign of his moving on. Still, it wasn't close to completely gone.

Natasha nodded. "Well, good. I was actually wondering because I was just in his office."

Bucky tried not to care about whatever Steve was up to, but he couldn't help asking, "why? Just work stuff?"

She laughed. "Of course it was work stuff; I'm not like you, I don't let my personal life into the office."

"Hey, I can't help who I'm attracted to!"

"Calm down, I'm kidding. I'm just telling you about Steve because he actually gave me a message for you."

Bucky faltered, as his curiosity skyrocketed. "Well? What is it?"

"He said you owe him a talk?" Natasha gave him a questioning look. "He asked if you'd go to his office after your lunch break."

"Oh." Bucky's brain seemed to be malfunctioning. What did Steve want to talk about? Was he mad at Bucky for coming onto him a little? Were they about to fight again? Bucky desperately wanted to avoid that.

Natasha just watched him patiently. "You can tell me about it later. Go meet Matt, you don't have much time as it is."

Bucky nodded for a moment, coming back to reality. "Right. See you soon."

"Have fun."

And with that, Bucky walked quickly to the elevator, hoping that Matt would distract him for a half hour from his impending talk with Steve Rogers.

***

The tall, concrete building of SHIELD advertising towered over Bucky as he said goodbye to Matt. He really did not want to go inside, but his lunch break was over in about three minutes, and he was already behind on his workload for the week.

"I'll see you on Saturday?" Bucky asked, stalling for time.

"You bet." Matt said, reaching out to pull Bucky in. Bucky smiled, giving Matt a quick kiss before heading back towards the building. He paused at the entrance to wave goodbye, before turning and sliding through the swinging glass door.

Instinctively, he held the door for the man entering behind him. And of course, it was none other than Steve Rogers, who filled out his grey suit perfectly and who wouldn't meet his eyes. They walked over to the elevator together, neither man saying a word. After all, it had been a long time since they had spoken to each other, let alone flirted or been friendly.

Bucky took it upon himself to break the silence. "I was actually just headed to your office. Natasha said you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," Steve said, pressing the 'up' button for the elevator. He didn't elaborate on why he wanted to see Bucky, but he did change the subject. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't."

Steve still didn't look at him. "Who was that outside then?"

"Just a guy I'm dating."

"Oh."

Thankfully, the elevator doors opened before Steve could ask any more questions. Bucky stepped in first, and pressed the button for floor thirty eight. Steve slid in after him, and they found themselves in the exact same position as the first time they met - Steve in front, facing the doors, and Bucky behind him, overthinking everything.

Bucky was a little sleep deprived from a television binge with Clint the night before, and he was so confused by Steve's odd behavior and their weird situation, that he started to laugh a little. And once he started, he couldn't stop - it only grew louder until Steve turned around, looking completely baffled.

"What?" Steve asked, exasperated.

Bucky caught his breath, as Steve turned to face him properly. "Nothing, nothing."

Steve was beginning to look amused. "No, tell me. Otherwise I'm going to start questioning your sanity."

"Aw, don't do that."

"Why not?"

"You might find out that I'm insane."

Steve let out a loud chuckle, shaking his head at Bucky. Bucky felt the telltale tingle in his stomach that came with Steve being nice to him. It had been a little while since he'd felt that, and it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Steve looked pleased as well. "Can you come to my office?"

The elevator doors 'dinged' and opened smoothly. "Of course. May I ask why?" Bucky said, as politely as possible.

Steve squinted at him a little, as they both stepped out of the elevator. "No, you may not," he said, matter-of-factly. But he was so clearly poking fun at him that Bucky couldn't help but laugh again.

***

Bucky's feeling a little more mentally stable by the time he's settled into the surprisingly comfortable cushions of the stylish grey couch. Steve sits on a sleek chair, across from him. Thankfully, Bucky's laughing fit in the elevator had done an excellent job at diffusing any tension, and Steve didn't look strained or uncomfortable like he had before. Bucky should write the hysterical laughter tactic down for future use - it was truly effective.

Steve leaned towards him, dress shirt crinkling distractedly under his unbuttoned suit jacket. "So," he started.

"So," Bucky echoed lamely.

"How have you been?" Steve may have looked calm and collected at first glance, but the tips of his ears were a fiery, embarrassed red.

"Um, good." Bucky fiddled with the wristband of his watch. "Thanks."

It was horribly silent for a minute. Bucky considered laughing again, or maybe leaving, when Steve finally stepped in.

"Look, Buck, we haven't talked in a while," Steve forced out, "and honestly I don't like it."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "That's why you asked me to come to your office?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay."

Steve loosened his tie, and Bucky glanced distractedly at his newly exposed neck. It was confirmed: Steve hadn't gotten any less hot over the past few weeks. So, Bucky was right; he was only getting over Steve because he wasn't seeing him - as soon as he saw him, he got all twisted up inside again.

Steve didn't say anything, and Bucky couldn't stand the silence. "I... I don't get it, Steve. You tell me you don't really have friends in the office, and then you act like this, and I just don't get it."

Steve looks at him, directly in the eyes. His intensity is a little unnerving. "What are you asking me?"

"I'm asking..." Bucky hesitated. "Why does it matter? Why does it matter if we talk or not?" Especially if you don't like me like that, Bucky doesn't add.

"Bucky," he sighed, "I don't want to fight with you."

"I'm not fighting! I'm seriously curious," he said, trying to wipe the irritated look off his face. If Steve could just give him straight answers, maybe they wouldn't be in this awkward situation in the first place.

Steve looked down at the coffee table, refusing to meet Bucky's eyes. "Look. I - I like the way I feel when we talk. It's... comfortable, you know?"

He looked up, and Bucky nodded along. Finally, some vulnerability. Thank God.

"Anyways, I rarely feel that comfortable around someone I just recently met," Steve said, and it's one of those rare moments of vulnerability that makes him a thousand more times attractive to Bucky. "I think you're... funny. And smart. Forgive me if I'm overstepping here. I don't know, Buck. I just like talking to you. I didn't want that to stop."

He was awkward and adorable and Bucky wanted to climb over the coffee table and kiss him. But then he smoothed his palms over his dress pants and collected his words, and Steve began to feel like his boss again. Not that Bucky minded that, either.

"Bucky, the main reason I asked you to meet me today was so I could get the chance to apologize."

"Nothing to apologize for." Bucky shrugged, looking past Steve, out the window.

"I was rude at the bar."

"So was I."

Steve shook his head. "I didn't handle things close to how I wanted to."

Bucky itched to leave again. He did not want to rehash the rejection he felt that night. "It was weeks ago, it's fine."

"We haven't spoken since then. That's on me, too."

"Steve, stop apologizing. It's fine. Can we move on?" Bucky stared at the office building across the street. A light flickered off in a small window.

Bucky could feel Steve staring at him for a few long seconds. Steve didn't say anything, though, and Bucky glanced at the door.

"I should, uh, get back to work. Lots to do."

Steve looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn't quite form the words. Bucky took that as his chance to leave, standing up from the couch and walking quickly towards the door. It had been a failed attempt at fixing things, but an attempt nonetheless.

"I tried to put distance between us so you could do what you needed to move on," Steve blurted out.

And isn't that a punch to the gut. Bucky wheeled around from where he stands with his hand on the doorknob. "You didn't have to do me any favors."

"And it looks like you did what you needed to," Steve continued, as if he hadn't heard Bucky at all.

Bucky shot him a confused glare. It was suddenly a little silent and awkward in the office, and they were both deflating a little.

"What, with the boyfriend and all."

And then Steve gave him this look, and Bucky could tell that he was teasing a little, and he wasn't mad, and he was sorry, and he just wanted to fix things but didn't know how. And with a small exhale, Bucky caved.

"Not a boyfriend," he said, returning the look.

"Not yet."

Bucky smiled softly. "This thing we've got going," he gestured between them both, "I don't know if it's friendship or whatever -"

"I think it's whatever," Steve smiled crookedly back.

"Well whatever it is, it's not normal."

"I guess you could say that, sure," Steve nodded, mock-thoughtful.

"I kinda like it though," Bucky paused as he turns to leave. "But no more fighting."

Steve sent him a teasing salute in agreement.

***

October had turned out to be a relatively positive month for Bucky, so far. Halloween was the next day, and he didn't know what he was going to wear to the office party, but that was about the height of his problems. Natasha was becoming a close friend, Matt was a solid, weekly date, and work was getting challenging in a good way. Even Steve hadn't managed to dampen Bucky's mood; he generally dropped by Bucky's office twice a week to say hi, and that was the extent of their friendship. It was healthy and professional, and Bucky was even getting successful at not staring at Steve's tree trunk arms in his dress shirts.

On the walk home, Bucky ran through possible last-minute Halloween costumes in his head. He could wear a flannel and overalls, and call himself a farmer. Or maybe he could borrow Clint's old Superman t-shirt. No, that wasn't good enough. Steve was going to be at this party - Bucky was certain, he had asked him when he dropped by his office the day before - so Bucky needed to look half good. He wasn't hoping to hook up with Steve any more, given how off-the-table Steve made that seem, but still. A little sex appeal never hurt anyone.

"Bucky Barnes, you're gonna love me," Clint said, the moment Bucky shuts the front door.

"Doubt it." He emptied his pockets on the table near the door, toeing off his work shoes.

Clint plowed on. "Okay, so, I know you, and therefore I know you have no Halloween costume for tomorrow," he accused, teasingly.

Bucky groaned. "Yeah, I don't. Should I just not go?"

"No, no, hang on. This is the part where you start to love me," Clint grinned at him, walking over to the couch. "I got you a costume."

He scooped a pile of fabric off the couch, holding it proudly towards Bucky. Bucky squinted at him. "What is it?"

"A pirate!" Clint held up a leather, pirate-like vest. A boot flopped off the couch and onto the floor.

"A sexy pirate?"

"Well, you could make it sexy. Toss on some eyeliner, unbutton your shirt a bit too much, and there you go."

Bucky felt a sudden rush of appreciation for Clint. "Okay, I do kind of love you for this."

"Right?"

Bucky eyed him skeptically. "Clint, this is suspiciously thoughtful."

"I know. Super thoughtful."

"No, I'm saying, like, why?" Bucky frowned at him. "What do you even get out of buying me a Halloween costume."

"I have nowhere to go tomorrow!" Clint whined, his charming resolve broken.

"Clint," Bucky almost laughed.

"Please take me with you. I want to go to the stupid boring company party."

"Fine."

"Come on, I got a matching costume, and I swear I won't embarrass you," he continued to beg.

"I said okay!" Bucky walked over, picking up a hook that lays on top of the pile of fabric. "I'm guessing your costume is Peter Pan related."

"Oh, thank God. I really need to do something fun. And yeah, it was between Tinkerbell and Peter Pan. I thought Pan would embarrass you less."

"Those critical thinking skills really do make an appearance once in a while, apparently," Bucky teased, and Clint threw a Peter Pan cap at him. "And it's not going to be fun, Clint. Like you said, it's really just a boring company party."

"I only said that because that's what you keep calling it! It's gonna be great, you literally work for the biggest advertising firm in the city. Tons of people are going to be there. Tony Stark's going to be there!"

"Seeing that he owns the company, yes Tony Stark will be there. All that means is I can't get drunk and embarrass myself."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I can't," Clint winked, walking towards the door and slipping on his shoes. "I will accept the plus one, thanks for asking."

"Thanks for begging, actually."

"Ha ha," Clint gave him a sarcastic smile, swinging the door open. "I'm off to work. I'll be back late, don't wait up."

"I never do!" Bucky called after him. Then, he turned to the pile of Halloween costume pieces. "Okay, we're going to make this work," he declared to himself.

***

Clint looked ridiculous, in Bucky's opinion. The green tights and little cap were hilarious, and he kept looking around the banquet hall like an excited tourist. Bucky, on the other hand, had put a lot of effort into looking effortlessly sexy. The messy hair, smudged eyeliner, and unbuttoned shirt all made him anticipate seeing Steve a little. Steve had only ever seen him in his work clothes, and maybe this pirate costume would be the tipping point to finally force Steve to see that he was, in fact, an attractive guy. As Bucky thought this over, his hope dwindled as his logic seemed more and more flawed. Thankfully, Natasha sidled up to them before he could think any harder. She was dressed in a black catsuit with matching ears, and Bucky could feel Clint suddenly perk up beside him.

"Hello, James," she said, friendly.

"Nat! This is Clint," he clapped a hand on Clint's back.

"Roommate?" she questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

"Uh, yup," Clint said, awkwardly. "Nice to meet you. You must be Natasha."

She flashed him a quick smile. "You boys want drinks?"

They followed her over to the bar, which ran along the back wall. The lights were low, the music was thumping, and people in all sorts of costumes were chatting in groups. The decorations were minimal, but still had a Halloween vibe - red lights bounced off the walls of the banquet hall, and cobwebs and fake spiders were spread around. Natasha handed them orange, fruity looking drinks, which was clearly heavy on alcohol but tasted sweet on Bucky's tongue.

Natasha caught him scanning the room. "Steve's around here somewhere."

"I wasn't looking for Steve," he said, defensively.

"He talks to you about Steve too?" Clint asked.

"Excessively."

"I'm right here, guys," Bucky huffed in annoyance, as a loud echo of laughter rises from the large group near the center of the room.

Natasha looked towards the noise. "Tony Stark," she said, answering their unasked question.

"Oh, shit, " Clint said in awe. "What's he like?"

"Wouldn't know, I've never talked to him."

Bucky stood there, sipping his drink and continuing to scan the room as Clint and Natasha talked as if they'd known each other forever.

"He's kind of illusive, always on trips and stuff. Meeting with clients, striking deals. He works on the top floor of our building, but we never see him."

Bucky cut in. "I'm gonna go wander. I'll be back in a bit."

"Yeah, alright," Clint said without turning to him.

"See you," Natasha said dismissively.

Bucky grinned as he placed his empty glass on the bar and strode off. It was nice to see his two good friends getting along so quickly.

Upon scanning the room, he spotted Jane and Darcy chatting animatedly in a corner, and he heads towards them.

"Bucky!" someone grabbed his elbow, and he spun around to face them. It was Sharon, holding two empty glasses and dressed in a tight nurse costume. A classic.

"Hey Sharon, you having fun?" he asked her politely.

"Oh yeah. Should probably cut back on the drinks, though." She laughed lightly. That explained her enthusiasm to see him - she usually gave him no more than a passing glance. "Do you know where I should put these?" She waved the empty glasses around.

Bucky reached out, trying to prevent her from possibly dropping them and causing a disaster. "I can take them back to the bar for you."

"Aw, that's sweet. Thank you." He took one out of her hand, and was reaching for the other, but she stopped him. "Oh, hang on, no, this one's actually Steve's. I think he wants another drink."

Bucky winced internally for about a second, but then pulled himself together and replied jokingly, "You sure you can carry a full glass, Sharon? Either you or the drink will end up on the floor."

"Bucky," she smiled, poking him in the chest. "Don't worry about me. I'm not that drunk."

"Alright," he said, friendly. "Be careful."

Sharon gave his arm a squeeze with her empty hand, and wandered off to the bar. Bucky set down the glass she'd given him on one of the nearby tall, skinny tables, and turned to head towards Darcy and Jane. A little ways past them, a man stopped in his tracks, catching Bucky's eye. Of course. Steve Rogers.

Steve was dressed in loose, comfy-looking scrubs that Bucky bet would slide right off him. His hair was a little more disheveled than usual, and Bucky just wanted to touch him. A stethoscope was slung over his neck, and... oh. He was a doctor. And Sharon was a nurse.

It was probably very obvious to Steve that Bucky was checking him out, giving him a full body scan before locking with his eyes. And it was probably just as obvious what Bucky was thinking when Bucky's face fell, and broke eye contact and turned away. But whatever was going on in Steve's head didn't matter, because they were pretending that there was nothing there, and would continue that stupid façade at this office party. He didn't come say hi to Bucky, and Bucky made a beeline towards Darcy and Jane.

"Bucky," they greeted happily.

Bucky didn't spare Steve a second glance.

***

Bucky had managed to find a back door that led him to a small, empty balcony. The music was still audible outside, just muffled. It was chilly, but in a refreshing way. He rested his elbows against the railing, looking out at the city lights in the dark.

The door swung open and shut quietly behind him. He didn't turn to see who it was - he had a strong feeling he already knew.

"Hey," came that low, rumbling voice. One point for Bucky.

"Hey," he said back, still facing forward. Steve appeared next to him, mirroring Bucky's position with his elbows rested on the railing. Bucky could feel him watching him, and he hoped his warm cheeks couldn't be seen too well in the low lighting.

"Having fun?"

"Yeah. Needed some air."

"Mm," Steve said in acknowledgement. They both grew quiet.

"You having fun?" he said, so the conversation wouldn't fizzle into awkwardness.

"Yeah, Halloween's always great."

"For sure," Bucky nodded into the darkness. "It always makes me think of old Halloweens. It's nostalgic, but it's nice."

"Completely," Steve smiled in his periphery. "My mom used to do matching costumes with me, when I was really little. Whatever I wanted to be, she'd make herself something to match."

Bucky smiled at the thought of a little Steve Rogers running around in a kids Halloween costume. He looked so put together and collected all the time, it was nearly impossible to imagine him as a child. He glanced at Steve, who smiled back.

Bucky let out a little laugh. "My sister and I dressed as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger for three years straight."

"Were you Hermione?" Steve joked at him.

Bucky shot him a deadpan look.

"Hey," Steve continued to tease, "I could see you being a know-it-all."

"Hermione is so much more than a know-it-all!" Bucky exclaimed defensively, turning to face him properly. The railing was cold against his side, but he was a little tipsy and having a good time and didn't care one bit.

"Oh no, I've awakened a Harry Potter beast," Steve chuckled back, his laugh warm and inviting. Bucky caught himself staring at his mouth, and quickly redirected his gaze to Steve's stethoscope.

"Anyways, I forgot to tell you I like your costume, by the way," Bucky stared unabashedly at his torso in the scrubs. "Matched well with Sharon."

"Pure coincidence," Steve quickly replied.

"Ah," Bucky tried to hide his relief.

"I opted for comfort. My best friend, Sam, used to be a nurse; I just borrowed his scrubs."

"Well, it suits you," he said, as Steve turned to fully face him as well.

Steve bit his lip briefly, and Bucky felt his face heat up again. "Sexy Captain Hook suits you too."

Bucky nearly choked on the air. Did Steve just call him sexy? Or maybe he just thought that was what Bucky was going for. And how did he know he was Captain Hook? He took his hook off within ten minutes of arriving, because his hand was starting to feel gross. Had Steve spotted him earlier in the night, before Bucky had seen Sharon? Why hadn't Steve approached him?

"Peter Pan and Captain Hook. Cute," Steve said absentmindedly, and after a few seconds of silence, it clicked in Bucky's head.

"Clint's my roommate," he assured him.

"Who?" Steve had a crease between his brow that was barely visible in the dark.

"Peter Pan. His name's Clint, he's my roommate."

Steve barked out a laugh. "He's your roommate? You wore a couples costume with your roommate?"

"Hey," Bucky said indignantly, "Peter Pan and Captain Hook were not a couple!"

"I'm sure somebody's written fanfiction about it."

"How do you know what fanfiction is? You're, like, eighty."

"Seventy-five, remember?"

They're both grinning at each other, a little flushed from the alcohol and the teasing banter. Bucky takes a tiny step toward Steve.

"I'm sorry, can we backtrack a second?" He can feel Steve radiating warmth in the chilly, late October air. He wants to step closer, but then they'd be practically breathing the same air. "Did you call me sexy?"

Steve looked taken aback, but amused as always. "Sexy Captain Hook. Isn't that what you were going for?"

"Nope, I guess the hotness was effortless." Bucky replied nonchalantly.

"Mhm, I'm sure that eyeliner took zero time at all. I'm sure you just woke up with it on."

Bucky winked. "A sexy pirate never tells."

"I say one word, and it goes straight to your head," Steve teased, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the fabric stretching enticingly.

"You can't take it back. You called me a sexy Captain Hook." Bucky glanced at his mouth. His bottom lip was red and shiny from him biting it earlier. "You think I'm hot?" he asked, glancing back at his dark blue eyes. They looked almost black in the night.

"Bucky," Steve looked back over the city, not saying anything else.

"'Cause you said like a month ago that if you met me in that bar, you wouldn't have taken me home. Sorry, boss, I just want my facts straight." He said it like it hadn't hurt him at all at the time.

"I never said that."

Bucky tilted his head. "No, if I remember correctly -"

"If I remember correctly, which I usually do, I didn't give you any answer at all," Steve was the one to take a small step forwards, toeing the professional line on how close you're supposed to be to your employee. Bucky was nearly holding his breath.

"I didn't give you an answer," Steve continued, collectedly, "because you're not blind. You probably own a mirror. So, I thought you'd know."

Bucky swallowed, which felt a little too loud on the quiet balcony. They had both tuned out the thumping bass of the music coming from inside and were focused entirely on each other.

"Why else would I have flirted with you in the elevator that day?" Steve's voice was quiet and low.

"I... I didn't think about that."

"You just assumed I wouldn't be attracted to you." He studied Bucky's face. "Why?"

Bucky shrugged, but Steve wouldn't take that as an answer. "Insecure?" he pressed gently.

"Maybe a little," Bucky said softly. He felt vulnerable and flayed open for Steve - how had they gotten there?

"Ridiculous," Steve mumbled, adjusting a strand of hair that had fallen into Bucky's eyes.

That act of intimacy spurred Bucky on. "I also just assumed that if you wanted me, you'd do something. You'd give me something. Not a relationship, I don't want a relationship. Just a night."

Steve sighed, and Bucky could feel it on his face. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He was going to get whiplash, with Steve changing his feelings so quick.

Steve laughed a little. "For leading you on, leading you all over the place."

Bucky frowned, averting his gaze. "Steve."

"I really am sorry. I'm trying."

"If you want this and I want this," Bucky looked back at him, defiantly, "why can't we have this?"

Steve shook his head. "I can't. I've had a relationship at work before. Didn't end well."

"Who?" Bucky asked, suddenly extremely curious. He had an inkling as to who, and he seemed to be spot on this evening.

Steve hesitated, before answering, "Sharon."

"You both seem fine now," he muttered.

"It's... I don't know. I mean, Sharon's..." Steve ran a hand through his hair. The crease was back between his eyebrows. "I just can't do it again. I don't want things to be weird between us, and if it didn't work out, they would be." Steve looked back out over the balcony railing, to the lights of the city.

"I'm not asking for a relationship," Bucky said, and with an impulsive burst of confidence, he gently took Steve's chin between his fingers and redirected his gaze back towards Bucky.

Steve bit his bottom lip again, and Bucky was having trouble breathing normally. He didn't let go of his chin. "Please."

Steve groaned softly. He leaned a little closer.

"How did we get here," Bucky mumbled. "I came outside for fresh air."

Steve was quiet and thoughtful for a moment. He smiled softly. "I think it started with me liking your eyeliner."

Steve was staring directly into his eyes; the tension on the balcony was palpable. Bucky wanted to lean in and kiss him so badly, but he held back. He didn't want to embarrass himself any more in front of Steve - he needed Steve to make the move this time. To distract himself, he tugged on Steve's stethoscope. It slipped off easily. Steve watched him, amused, as he put the ear pieces into his ears, taking one last tiny step towards Steve, and placing the cold metal against Steve's chest. Steve inhaled sharply as Bucky's hand came to rest against his pec.

Bucky could hear Steve's heartbeat, loud and strong. "Fast," Bucky whispered, looking from Steve's chest back up to his intense eyes.

They both held their breath for a long moment. Then, quick and a blur, Steve's palm was cupping the back of Bucky's neck, and Bucky melted a little. The stethoscope fell to the floor, but neither of them cared. Steve's other hand flew to his waist, tugging him in, and then, finally, Steve's lips were on Bucky's, hot and insistent.

They moved in unison, no tongue at first, and then a little, teasing. Bucky had one hand in Steve's messy golden hair, and the other was pressed against his chest where the stethoscope had been. Steve was smiling a little against his mouth, and when Bucky nipped his bottom lip, Steve let out a tiny moan. He was warm and secure, holding him tightly but as if he was delicate at the same time. Bucky thought he was going to pass out. This was all that mattered.

Steve was the one to break away for a gasping breath, but he kept his warm hand on Bucky's neck, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes stayed closed, long eyelashes fanned over his cheekbones. Bucky gazed at him, keeping his hand in his hair. He was so pretty this close up. But when Steve opened his eyes, and gave Bucky a little questioning look, as if he were asking if Bucky was okay with this, Bucky was struck by a realization. He let go of Steve, taking an unsteady step backwards.

"I, uh, I think I have a boyfriend," he said, stumbling back and wiping a hand over his mouth.

"What?" Steve asked sharply, taking his hands off of Bucky as he processed what he had said.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I forgot."

"You forgot you had a boyfriend?"

"I'm so sorry," Bucky repeated, rubbing his hands over his face. This was such a mess.

"Are you kidding, Buck?" Steve looked a little ticked off, and Bucky didn't blame him.

Steve had turned to lean against the balcony railing, his expression closed off as he stared into the darkness. Bucky kept talking at the side of his face. "No, remember, you've seen him? His name's Matt."

"I thought you broke up," Steve said, confused and angry.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you didn't bring him here?" Steve shot him a glare. "Because you brought your roommate here instead of a date?"

Oh, God. Bucky had totally forgotten that he should invite Matt. He had sort of forgotten about Matt in general. He was so stupid! He had seen him five days ago! He knew about the party then, why didn't he invite him? He could blame it on Steve being there, but that wasn't fair to anyone. So he settled with the fact that he hadn't thought, and he had been seriously stupid.

"Steve," he sighed. He didn't know what else to say.

"Can you go?" Steve said, not looking at him. "I need some space."

"Steve," he repeated, feeling terrible, despite being on cloud nine a minute ago.

"Just go, Buck," he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his scrubs. He stared out over the balcony. "Things will be back to normal on Monday. I just need a moment."

"I'm sorry," he said, defeated.

"Fine," Steve snapped, a break in his resolve. "I'll go."

He rushed back inside, his stethoscope remaining on the ground, leaving Bucky alone on the balcony to think about what an idiot he was.

***

Bucky watched the streetlights fly by outside the window, one after another, blurring into the night. Clint, who sat next to him in the back of the cab was the epitome of happy drunk.

"She complimented my tights, man!" he shoved Bucky's arm playfully.

Bucky laughed, a little worn out. "I feel like she may have been teasing you."

Clint shook his head quickly. "Nope. Don't think so."

"Mm." Bucky rested his head against the window.

"Think she liked my legs," Clint went on.

"I'm sure," Bucky sighed, rifling around inside his jacket pocket for his phone. "Be quiet for one second, alright? I have to make a call."

"I have to make a call," Clint mimicked him, and then started to giggle uncontrollably.

Bucky pushed him away, shushing him urgently as the phone rang in his ear.

Matt picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Bucky."

"Matt, hi." Clint finally quieted down, and Bucky turned back to the window.

"You okay? It's pretty late," Matt said, through a yawn.

"Oh, shit," Bucky internally slapped himself. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, I was just watching TV. Happy Halloween, by the way."

Bucky didn't know it was possible to feel even worse, but the idea of Matt sitting home alone on Halloween and watching TV was a pretty sad picture.

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "You too."

"So, um, is everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah! I was just wondering...do you wanted to get together tomorrow?" Bucky blurted out, trying to brighten his voice.

Matt sounded a little surprised, but he replied, "Oh, okay, sure! That sounds good."

"My place, around six? We can order takeout."

"Yeah, okay," Matt said. Bucky could his smile through the phone, and it made him feel more than a little guilty.

"Perfect. Well... goodnight, then."

Matt laughed a little. "Goodnight. See you tomorrow."

Matt hung up first, and as Bucky slipped the phone into his pocket, he caught Clint squinting at him. "What?"

"Are you okay?" Clint asked, suspiciously.

"Uh, yes?"

"So, things are going well with Matt?"

"I guess so."

Clint hesitated. "Nothing's going on with Steve?" And there it is. Bucky groaned.

"No," he said, fiddling with the stethoscope on his lap. Steve had left it behind on the balcony when he bolted, and Bucky didn't know what to do but give it back to him on Monday. "No, nothing's going on with Steve."

***

At eight o'clock in the evening, there were three firm knocks on the door. Bucky climbed off the couch, where he and Matt had been wrapped around each other, eating takeout noodles, and watching tv in comfy clothes. Clint was at work, so they had the place to themselves.

Bucky made his way towards the door, adjusting his rumpled t-shirt to look a little more presentable. He wasn't expecting anyone, and had no clue who would be knocking on his door on a Sunday evening.

The door swung open to reveal none other than Steve Rogers, in all his glory. He was dressed in a brown leather jacket and jeans, and his golden hair was combed and smoothed and perfect. Bucky gaped up at him, at a loss for words.

Steve gave him a polite smile. "Hey, Buck. You alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Bucky said, collecting himself and running a hand through his messy hair. What the hell was Steve doing here? And why did he seem so guarded, so professional? Bucky hated it.

"Sorry to barge in on you like this. I was just wondering if you picked up the stethoscope I left at the party yesterday?" Steve didn't seem fazed one bit, but Bucky could feel his face burning red at the thought of the moment they had at the party, before the stethoscope was abandoned. "My buddy needs it back today, and I hoped you might have grabbed it."

Bucky stumbled over his thoughts, still a little shaken up from the unexpected visitor. Before he can properly assemble a response, he blurts out on reflex: "How did you know where I live?"

Finally Steve starts to look a little uncomfortable, but he seems to push it down. "Maria has record of your home address. To send your paycheck. I asked her for it." He scratched behind his ear, glancing down to Bucky's body, and his bare feet. Bucky suddenly wished that he had looked in the mirror before he had come to the door. "Sorry for just showing up like this."

Bucky quickly shook his head, waving him off. "Oh, it's no problem." Steve offered a friendly smile in response.

They stared at each other for a long, awkward pause. Steve was beginning to look a little amused at Bucky's flustered state.

"So," Steve encouraged, "the stethoscope?"

"Right! The stethoscope!" Bucky could feel his face flush again. He abruptly opened the door wider, just realizing that he should probably invite Steve in. "Here, come on in. I'll grab it."

Steve stepped inside, glancing around politely. Bucky shut the door behind him, and turned back to his apartment. It was then that he was suddenly reminded of Matt sitting on his couch, eating noodles. Matt had his elbows propped on the back of the couch, looking over towards the new visitor. As Steve hovered in by the door, Matt set the noodles down and stood up, greeting Steve with a "Hey, man."

"Hi," Steve said, perfectly friendly. Why was he being perfectly friendly? "You must be Matt."

Matt nodded, smiling, as Bucky quickly lunged for the counter where he had left the stethoscope the night before. He just wanted to get Steve out of there as soon as possible. "Yup," Matt said. "And forgive me, I feel like I've seen you before, but I can't remember where from."

"Yeah, I saw you at that bar. I think that might have been the night you two met. I'm Steve," Steve said, extending a hand for a shake. "I work with Bucky."

Matt gave his hand a firm shake. "You're the boss, right?"

Steve turned to Bucky, an unreadable look on his face. "Mhm. I'm the boss." Bucky kept his eyes on the stethoscope, thrusting it towards Steve, who accepted it with a smile. "Thanks. Well, that's all I came here for," he said, as Bucky quickly opened the door for him. "It was nice to meet you, Matt. See you Monday, Buck." And then he stepped over the threshold and was gone.

Bucky turned to Matt. The energy in the apartment had shifted, as if Steve had thrown it off with his presence. How did Steve manage to affect him so much?

This wasn't fair to Matt. Bucky looked into his kind brown eyes, attempting to mentally put together the right break-up words so that Matt could understand his utter lack of fault in this situation.

It didn't come out quite right, but Matt got it. He left with a melancholy expression on his face, but Bucky was certain that it was for the best.

At least Bucky didn't have to feel so guilty anymore about his frustratingly endless crush on his boss.

***

Despite Steve's surprisingly friendly visit over the weekend, Bucky still felt a little nervous about going into work on Monday. He was barely thinking of Matt, which only made him feel more confident in his decision to end things. He didn't end things because of Steve, exactly, but he couldn't deny that he hoped deep down that Steve might kiss him again and Bucky could follow through this time.

That was probably a long shot, though. They seemed to have finally reverted to being coworkers.

As Bucky walked briskly into the open office space at eight twenty-five, Steve was leaned over Sharon's desk, laughing that full laugh with his head tilted back. He looked beautiful, as usual, and Bucky felt like it was his first week at the office again. He kept his gaze straight ahead, but Sharon looked up and chirped, "Hey, Bucky!"

He shot them both a smile. "Good morning."

Steve gave him a friendly nod, and went back to flirting with Sharon.

In Bucky's office, Natasha took one glance at him and gave him a knowing smile. "Broke up with Matt?"

Bucky stared at her in awe. "I'm convinced you're some sort of psychic."

***

The week flew by, and then the next. Snow fell heavily outside the windows, and Bucky felt a little disconnected from reality as he passed through the motions. Get up, go to work, eat lunch, work some more, go home, watch tv, sleep. Over and over, the only variety being occasional drinks with Natasha or stopping by the bar Clint worked at. Work was still interesting, but Bucky was feeling a little out of touch.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving was fast approaching, and Bucky would be going home to see his family. That always grounded him, reminded him where he came from and who he was.

Steve was still... Steve. Handsome as hell. Impossible to read. Distant but friendly. He would stop by Bucky's office once a week, to say the customary hello, but he spoke to Natasha no different than he spoke to Bucky.

It was Wednesday night, just before Thanksgiving, when Bucky's peripheral vision picked up on a tall, blonde man in a suit walking towards his office door.

"Hi Steve," Natasha said as he knocked lightly on the door. Steve greeted her back, and Bucky stayed bent over his work for one more moment, finishing the sentence on the email he was writing before turning to Steve as well.

"You doing anything nice for Thanksgiving?" Steve was asking Natasha.

"I'm visiting my mother," Natasha said smiling.

They both turned to Bucky, expectantly, so he said brightly, "I'm driving to Indiana to see the whole family."

"Big family?" Steve smiled endearingly.

"Yeah," Bucky replied fondly. "Two sisters and a brother. My sister's married, and she's bringing her three kids, too. So it'll be fun."

"Rebecca?" Natasha asked him. He had given her the run-down on his family. They would probably love her; they'd probably love Steve, too, if he let Bucky in again.

"No, Alice. She's older, Becca's only twenty-two."

"Ah," Natasha said, nodding. "Send me a family picture around the turkey."

Steve was watching them both with a soft smile on his face. Bucky turned to him, meeting his twinkling blue eyes. "You seeing family too?"

Steve looked down, a small smile on his face. "Uh, no," he said, evasively. "Not this year."

"Working?" Bucky asked with polite curiosity.

"Yeah, something like that," Steve looked over his shoulder, as if he were busy and had to go. "Anyways, just wanted to say hi. I'll see you both on Tuesday."

"Yeah, see you Tuesday," Bucky echoed, as Steve disappeared again.

***

Thanksgiving was practically perfect. Bucky spent the majority of the weekend playing with Alice's kids, especially the little two-year-old girl that loved tugging on chunks of his hair. Speaking of his hair, he fielded perhaps sixty comments on how long it's getting, and how he needs to get it cut. But then Alice's six-year-old got really invested in braiding it, giving him the messiest, but most endearing French braid he'd ever had. The haircut comments stopped there, and Bucky left the short braid in for all of Thanksgiving dinner.

Of course, he wound up spilling every detail about Steve to Becca. The way he spoke, the way he looked at Bucky, his body in those suits, and that kiss on Halloween. Becca had clapped her hands excitedly, and he knew it was because she was thrilled to see him interested in someone new. He hadn't really told her about his romantic life (or lack thereof) since he broke up with Alex Pierce.

She teased him a little, too, because as his sister, she couldn't help it. But then she reminded him that 'if it was meant to happen, it would happen' and that he needed to 'calm way down, Jamie'. Bucky had rolled his eyes at the cheesy advice at the time, but it also made a lot of sense. If him and Steve were going to get together, Bucky just had to wait for it to happen. And if they weren't going to happen, with time, Bucky would get over it, move on, maybe even meet the right person for him. He needed to stop letting Steve take up so much of his thoughts.

Returning to New York, his head felt clearer than it had in a while. He felt bright and fresh and grounded, and was glad that Thanksgiving had been such a blast.

And when Tuesday morning rolled around, he walked into the office like he belonged there, giving Steve a cheerful "Good morning!", but wasting no excess time thinking about him for the rest of the week.

***

"You okay?" Natasha asked, for the second time, poking him in the ribs.

"What?" Bucky shot back, desperately clicking around on his computer, trying to salvage a deleted file. To Bucky's dismay, his computer had crashed just before he finished the work for the day. It was a Friday night. Bucky was supposed to go to the bar with Natasha, and find a hot guy to buy him drinks and take him home. Now it looked like that wasn't going to happen.

"Are. You. Okay?" Natasha said slowly, as if him not understanding her was the problem.

He finally turned to stare up at her. She had her jacket on, ready to leave for the weekend. "No, Nat. I am not okay. I deleted everything! Everything's gone! I'm such an idiot," he groaned, letting his head fall against the desk with a thump.

She put a hand on the back of his head, gently petting his hair. "There's no way you can get it back?"

"Nope," he mumbled into the desk.

"Sorry, James. What are you going to do?"

"Stay late and redo it, I guess. What choice do I have?" He turned his face to look up at her, his cheek now pressed against the hard surface.

"Will it take long?"

"Three hours, give or take. I hate being employed," he whined, and Natasha chuckled quietly.

"Come on, you like this stuff."

"I don't like redoing this stuff!" He sat back again, and wiped a hand over his face.

"Fair enough," Natasha said, smiling sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Bucky waved her off. "No, you go home. I'll see you Monday."

She gave his hair one last stroke, and then turned to the door. "Have a good weekend James."

"Bye." And with that, she was gone. Looking around, Bucky realized that most people had headed out for the day, or were packing up to leave. Some waved at him on their way out, and he waved tiredly back. Slouching over in his chair, he got back to work.

***

The office was darker than Bucky had ever seen it. At seven o'clock on the last Friday of November, the sun had set long ago. The skyline outside his office window was lit up with the lights of the buildings, but the sky was a deep blue. The only light came from his little desk lamp that lit up the small room in fluorescent light.

Things had been going surprisingly well, and Bucky was actually enjoying himself. Music played softly out of his phone, and he was finishing the last design that had got deleted. It turned out to be relatively easy to redo everything exactly as it was before, since he had just done it the first time that morning. It was looking like he would only be there for another twenty minutes or so.

He was carefully saving his work, singing along to 'Here Comes Your Man', and dancing in his chair, when he heard a lough laugh from outside. Bucky's head snapped up; who the hell was still here?

Of course. Steve Rogers.

Steve grinned at him, jingling his keys in his hands. "I came to lock up."

Bucky quickly paused the music on his phone, face bright red. "Oh, I'm still here," he said dumbly.

Steve just gave him an amused look, not making any remark on that obvious statement.

He strolled towards his open door, hands in his pockets. His eyes were bright despite the hour, and his hair was a golden mess, probably from running his hands through it. Bucky shut his laptop, biting his lip nervously. Steve, on the other hand, was confident and smooth as always. He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms, and Bucky noticed that Steve's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Bucky's throat went dry.

After watching him, interested, for a moment, Steve spoke. "So."

"So," Bucky echoed, awkwardly.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "What are you doing here, Bucky?"

"Oh!" Bucky had completely forgotten his situation at the sight of Steve. His frustration came back to him in a flash, and he groaned. "Computer crashed."

"Happens to the best of us," Steve looked down on him, with a little smile that made Bucky falter. Then he reached his arm over Bucky, who tensed with surprise, before Steve grabbed his laptop and strolled away. "Follow me."

"Hey, wait!" Bucky called, but Steve had already turned the corner. Bucky had no choice but to get up and follow him. "I'm not done!"

"I know," Steve responded from down the long hall to his office. "My office is so much more comfortable."

Bucky jogged to catch up, still not fully able to wrap his head around what was going on. He watched Steve strut into his office, and Bucky hesitated in the doorway. "Are you sure?" He wasn't about to protest; that couch looked incredibly comfortable.

"Of course," Steve glanced at him, placing his laptop down on the sofa. Steve sat down behind his desk, gesturing towards the couch. "Sit. Finish up here."

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, but Steve was shuffling through papers on his desk. Finally, he stuttered out, "Thanks."

Steve looked up, shooting Bucky a quick, friendly grin before grabbing a pencil and focusing his attention back at the papers again.

Bucky sunk into the couch, picking up his laptop and getting back to work with a little smile on his face.

***

"You can see the moon," Steve said reverently, standing in front of the wall-length windows at the back of the room. His hands were on his hips, and Bucky took a moment to admire his form - not in a sexual way, but like he was staring at a beautiful sculpture; Bucky felt that every single feature of Steve's was perfectly designed.

Bucky slowly shut his laptop, having just finished the last bit of work. He didn't think he was going home quite yet, though. Steve had spent the past half hour sketching at his desk, not saying a word to Bucky. He obviously didn't have any work left, and Bucky felt guilty keeping Steve up, but Steve also looked more at peace than Bucky had ever seen him before.

Now, Bucky stood and quietly approached Steve from behind. He could see the moon, too, round and white above the horizon. He stilled beside Steve, shooting him a quick glance. Steve kept his gaze on the city, but Bucky couldn't help staring at him. His profile was beautiful, his skin smooth, his eyelashes so long. And once again, Bucky found himself wanting Steve desperately.

Steve cleared his throat, turning to reach for his sketchbook, which lay on his desk. Leaning against the window, he slid down to the floor, patting the space beside him. Bucky didn't take his eyes off him for a moment, sliding down to join him on the floor.

Steve spoke softly and intimately, and Bucky felt himself leaning in just to be closer. "A while ago I asked for some advice on a sketch." Steve flipped a page in his sketchbook. "Remember?"

"Yeah." Bucky found himself whispering for no reason.

"Well," Steve said, tilting the page towards Bucky. "Here it is."

The portrait was beautiful. It was of a blonde woman, smiling so lovingly that Bucky nearly got goosebumps from it. Her eyes were the same sharp blue as Steve's, and her hair flew behind her. She seemed so light, so carefree. Bucky wanted to know her, but it almost felt like she couldn't possibly exist. The colors of her eyes, hair, lips were all so vivid; it brought her to life. After a long pause, Steve finally looked at him, watching for his reaction, and Bucky just kept gazing at the drawing. "It's beautiful."

"You were right about the color," Steve said. Bucky didn't look at him, couldn't take his eyes off the woman, but he could hear a smile in Steve's voice.

Bucky hummed in agreement. He finally looked up at Steve, and there was a startling intensity when their eyes met. "Who is she?"

"My mom." Steve looked down, tips of his ears red.

"She's beautiful."

"She was. She, uh… she passed away a few years ago," Steve said, brow furrowed.

Bucky waited for Steve to look back up. He wanted Steve to know he was perfectly safe here. He could be open; Bucky wanted him to be.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to tentatively rest his hand over Steve's. Bucky was worried Steve would recoil, but instead he flipped his hand over, so that his palm met Bucky's. They both took a breath.

"Thanks," Steve whispered.

Bucky licked his lips, and he watched Steve's eyes flutter down to watch.

"You really like it?" Steve asked, with a little smile on his face. Bucky knew that Steve knew the answer, but he gave him what he wanted anyways.

"I think you're amazing."

Steve rushed up to his mouth, pressing a soft, grateful kiss to his lips. Bucky inhaled sharply, hands coming up to cup Steve's face. This was perfect; this was exactly what he'd been waiting for. This is what he couldn't have on Halloween, but what he's wanted since the second he met Steve. Steve's hands were in his hair, on his waist, roaming around, and their mouths slotted perfectly against one another, the kiss slow yet desperate at the same time.

Steve carefully cupped the back of Bucky's neck as he lowered him to lie on the floor, and Bucky shivered with the feeling of being treated so gently. He grabbed Steve by his loosened tie, bringing his lips to meet Bucky's again, and oh my god, he was making out with his boss on his office floor.

It couldn't get any better than this.

But then Steve slipped his hand under Bucky's dress shirt, to rest against his bare side, and Bucky nipped at his lower lip teasingly. Steve groaned, letting out a little chuckle. "How did I manage to resist this for so long?"

Bucky grinned back up at him. "I've been asking myself that for months."

Steve lowered himself so that he was lying with his face tucked into Bucky's neck. Bucky brought a hand to stroke Steve's hair while Steve caught his breath. "Are you sure about this?" Steve asked, pressing a light kiss to the sensitive spot beneath Bucky's ear.

"Certain," Bucky said, and the word was muffled in Steve's golden hair. Steve shifted, kissing his way across Bucky's pale skin towards his mouth. When their lips met, Bucky came alive. He put his heart in Steve's hands, as their mouths moved against one another, with teasing swipes and gentle nips. Steve was his, right now, in this moment. On the floor of his office, Steve had finally chosen Bucky, and Bucky had chosen him back.

At least for right now.

***

As soon as the door shut, Bucky collapsed against it, eyes glazed. His lips were still a little swollen, even a half hour later, and he had nearly floated home from the office. He put a hand to his lips, the ghost of Steve's kiss still lingering there. He hoped it would stay all night.

Bucky leaned against the door for a full minute, letting himself breathe properly for the first time in the past two hours, as sounds of dishes being roughly shoved into the dishwasher echoed from the kitchen.

Clint finally emerged from the kitchen. "What happened," he asked immediately, although it wasn't even a question.

"Steve happened," Bucky smiled dazedly.

Clint abruptly stopped walking. "I thought you said nothing was happening with Steve!" he said, eyes wide, pouting exaggeratedly. "Since when do you keep things from me?"

"It wasn't really happening until now!" Bucky laughed, poking his fingers into Clint's cheeks and trying to physically pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile.

Clint turns his head and bites at Bucky's finger, and he pulls it back with a yelp. He grinned at Bucky. "I find that hard to believe."

"I'm not lying! He wanted to be professional, so it wasn't happening before."

"But now it is."

"Now it is," Bucky repeated with a grin.

"And the professional crap just flew out the window?" Clint smirks.

"Unless you count sticking your tongue down your employee's throat professional, yeah, I think that flew out the window."

Clint shook his head amusedly. Bucky shrugged off his jacket, unable to wipe the little grin off his face.

Clint watched him, a crease between his eyebrows. "So...Now what?" He asked.

Bucky played with the cuffs of his shirt. He looked up at Clint, eyes bright. "He said he wants to see more of me."

"Dude!" Clint clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations. "Do you love him?"

Bucky startled. "Jeez, Clint, I made out with him one singular time!" He laughed a little. "Okay, we've been talking about me since I got home. Let's change the subject - how are you? How was work?"

"I'm good, work was work, you're a good source of entertainment so don't change the subject." Bucky shot him an unimpressed look, but Clint just barreled on. "Do you think you could love him?"

Bucky faltered. "I..." He hesitated, realizing that was very much a worrisome possibility. "I don't want a relationship, you know that."

"Because of Pierce."

"Because of... who I am. Butt out, Barton," he added with a grumble. Bucky walked past Clint, towards his room door.

"Fine," Clint sighed melodramatically. He turned on his heel, sauntering over to the couch, where he flopped down and grabbed the remote. Before he turned on the television, he shifted to lean over the back of the couch, watching Bucky with a little grin. "Whatever happens, I'm happy for you, man. You deserve to get laid."

Bucky let out a loud laugh, opening the door to his room. "I totally do!"

***

Due to the excitement and the coinciding nervousness, Bucky had been fairly distracted all day. He constantly checked the clock, counting down the minutes until five. Natasha had to poke him several times to tell him to stop daydreaming and get back to work.

To both of their surprise, Bucky did manage to finish all his work with three minutes to spare. Which was perfect, because at five o'clock sharp, Steve Rogers was leaning against his doorframe, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a knowing smile on his face. Bucky had never seen that smile, and it felt like Steve was sharing a secret with him. His cheeks flushed and he stood up abruptly.

"Steve! Hi!"

Natasha looked up at him, amused. "Hey, boss. What's up?"

"Oh, not much. Just leaving for the day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded, glancing over at Bucky. His brown leather jacket was slung over his arm, and he shifted it awkwardly to his other arm. "Just thought I'd come to say bye."

Bucky grabbed his jacket. "I'm gonna head out too, actually." He glanced over at Nat, shooting her a look that threatened her to keep her mouth shut about the suspicious timing of his departure. "Bye, Nat."

"See you boys later."

Steve stepped back so Bucky could leave the little office, and they walked to the elevator together, footsteps in sync. Steve shot him a little smile as they entered, and as they stood side by side, Bucky felt his hand brush against Steve's. He inhaled sharply, a little electric jolt going through him. He could see Steve smirking in his periphery.

Outside on the sidewalk, in the frosty December air, Steve pulled on his jacket. Bucky shuffled his feet awkwardly next to him, staring down at the ground. It was just properly hitting him that he had been waiting for this moment for so long. He couldn't mess it up. Looking back up at Steve, he found that Steve was already watching him fondly. Steve reached over, tucking a piece of Bucky's long, brown hair behind his ear. Bucky bit his lip, stepping a little closer.

"It's getting long."

"Do you hate it?" Bucky ran a hand through his hair, self consciously. "My mom hates it."

"Buck," Steve said, reaching up to take Bucky's hand off his head. Steve then took a handful of Bucky's hair, leaning in even closer. "I love it. Gives me something to grab," he added cheekily, with a little tug on the hair. Bucky stood there, stunned, as Steve placed a chaste peck on his lips. "Let's go," he said brightly, ignoring Bucky's flustered state and holding out his hand invitingly.

Bucky took his hand, lacing their fingers together. He tried to squash down the overwhelming excitement that Steve's every move gave him, but he probably didn't do a good job, because Steve sent him another one of those butterfly-inducing knowing smiles.

As they walked down the busy Manhattan street, Steve ran his thumb absentmindedly over the back of Bucky's hand. "Sorry I couldn't do a proper first date," Steve said, a little apologetic crease between his brows. "I'll be in Canada to meet with a client from tomorrow till Friday. I just really wanted to see you before then."

"What's a 'proper first date?'" Bucky laughed. "This feels pretty legitimate."

"I mean, like, dinner and a movie."

"Steve, I just want to spend time with you," Bucky said, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Steve squeezed back, giving Bucky a warm glance. "I'm still sorry, though. You deserve much more... extravagance than a walk around the block."

"Oh, because I'm such an extravagant guy," Bucky teased.

"Exactly," Steve replied with a laugh.

***

The date had gone wonderfully, and by the time they were rounding the corner on Bucky's street, he was mentally debating if that had been one of his best first dates ever. They chatted about Bucky's family for a long time, and his plans to go home for Christmas. Steve told Bucky a few stories about his time at college, which led to Bucky confessing that he couldn't picture Steve as some scrawny college student. He couldn't see Steve as anything but this confident, assertive man before him. Steve had let out a loud, belly-laugh at that, and then made a somewhat dirty innuendo about how Bucky hadn't even seen him be assertive yet, and Bucky couldn't speak properly for a long moment after that, his face bright red under the streetlights and the dark night sky.

To Bucky's delight, they held hands for the entire time, their laced fingers swinging between them as they walked. Thankfully it was chilly enough that there was limited palm sweat, and Steve only released his hand for five minutes, to eat a cheap, ketchup-smothered hot dog from a hot dog stand nearby. Watching Steve, who is usually so put-together, try to catch falling ketchup with his mouth as it dripped out of the bun, was surprisingly endearing to Bucky.

When they reached the door of his apartment building, Bucky stopped walking, pointing with his free hand towards the door. "This is me."

"I've been here before, Buck."

"Oh, I forgot."

Steve nodded, looking up at the building. "I think you were on a date with someone else the last time I was here."

Bucky awkwardly scratched his ear with his free hand. "That may have been the case."

"Just so we don't have that Halloween mix-up again... you aren't seeing him anymore, right?" He said it with a chuckle, and Bucky was so relieved to hear him brush off that mess as a joke.

"No!" Bucky quickly responded, shaking his head. "No, uh, we actually broke up that day you came over."

"Oh. Was it... was it my fault?" Steve gave him a little smile, like he wanted the answer to be yes.

"Indirectly," Bucky said, thoughtfully. "Also, I don't think I was really feeling it."

"Are you feeling this?" Steve said softly, stepping into Bucky's space.

Bucky nodded, glancing down at Steve's red mouth. They were so close, it felt like they were sharing the same air. Bucky would barely have to lean in to kiss Steve, but Steve beat him to it. It was a soft, gentle kiss, and Bucky could feel himself melting. Steve's tongue slipped into his mouth, and he sighed into his mouth. The kiss was less urgent than last Friday's office make out session, but the way Steve cupped his jaw made Bucky feel equally as desperate for him.

"Do you wanna come inside?" Bucky mumbled against his lips.

Steve broke away, holding Bucky's shoulders as he scanned his face. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. "I... I want to take it a little slower," he started.

"Steve-" Bucky cut in, intending to explain that he was in this mostly for sex, and a long-term relationship just wasn't in the cards. But Steve barreled on:

"I really want to do this right, Buck." He looked down at his feet. "I, uh, I really care about you," he added, uncharacteristically shy. It was so incredibly sweet, that Bucky couldn't help but grin back at him. "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded. He met Steve's blue eyes, a little nervous. "I should probably tell you that I'm... I'm not really a commitment kind of guy."

Steve's smile faltered, but such a miniscule amount that Bucky may have just imagined it. "No, of course," Steve said, taking his hands off Bucky's shoulders to wave him off. "We'll just feel it out. Take it slow."

Steve gave Bucky a reassuring look, and Bucky could breathe deeply again. He bit his lower lip, reaching out to rest his hands on Steve's narrow hips. "I'd like that."

Without saying a word, Steve gave him a tender smile and leaned in to kiss him goodnight, until he was breathless and a little dazed from the hand tugging his hair and the strong arm wrapped around his waist.

***

Bucky got home late on Tuesday night; it had been his turn to get the groceries, and he'd got sidetracked at the nearby used book store, browsing and repeatedly telling himself that he didn't need any more books. He came home with three bags of groceries, and three books. Not bad, in Bucky's opinion.

He had settled into the couch and was flicking through his Netflix list when the door to Clint's bedroom opened slowly with a creak.

Bucky did a double-take, shooting up off the couch. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, nothing," Natasha shrugged casually, as if this was a totally normal situation. "Be quiet though, he's asleep."

"He's - he's asleep," Bucky echoed, a little in shock.

"What're you watching?" Natasha walked around him, flopping down on the couch. She tugged the remote out of his hand, and he dazedly sat back down next to her.

Bucky stared at her for a moment. "I, uh, I haven't chosen yet." He wiped a hand over his face. "Hang on, since when have you been sleeping with my roommate?"

"Never said I was sleeping with him."

"Are you?"

"Yup," she said, popping the 'p'. "Since the week after Halloween."

"Halloween?" Bucky gaped at her incredulously. "How haven't I known?"

She shrugged again. "He usually comes over to my place."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky shoved her lightly on the shoulder, hoping she would see how this wasn't nothing. Two of his best friends were sleeping together. That's a pretty big deal, in his books.

"It wasn't anything serious. Besides, we don't tell each other everything. You didn't tell me you were dating Steve."

Bucky faltered. "How did you know I was dating Steve?"

"Hey, I'm not stupid," she teased. "You were so weird yesterday, James."

"Was I really?" he groaned. Bucky settled back into the cushions, happy to have Natasha to talk to about this. It appeared that her and Clint were old news now, and they had moved on to discussing Bucky's love life, once again.

"It wasn't too bad. He seems to like you," she squeezed his knee. "Did the date go well?"

"So, so well Nat. So well."

"Ohhh," she said knowingly, shooting him a wink. "He was good?"

Bucky groaned again. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I meant the conversation was good. He wouldn't sleep with me, Nat!" he added, throwing his head back against the pillows.

"James, you've only been on one date."

"So?"

"So maybe he wants to wait until it's serious," she let out a single laugh at his frustration.

"But I don't want it to get serious!"

Natasha frowned immediately. "Oh."

"What?"

"No, nothing." At his urging expression, she continued. "It's just that as long as I've known Steve, he's been a serial monogamist. Serious relationship after serious relationship."

Bucky hesitated. "Are you sure?" He didn't give her time to answer, barreling on into a spiral of worry. "Oh, god, then this is going to end badly. Plus, he's not going to want me anymore if he finds out that I'm all messed up. I've told him I don't want anything serious! Does he think he can change me? Because he can't!"

Natasha watched him thoughtfully as she waited for him to finish. After some thought, she finally said, "You're sure he understands that you don't want to commit?"

"I told him that yesterday, yeah," Bucky said anxiously.

"Then I guess you've got nothing to worry about," she said, sounding a little unconvinced herself. Bucky brushed off his worry, letting Natasha turn to the television and navigate Netflix. She was deep in the Christmas movie section when she asked him another question, staring straight at the screen.

"Why didn't you tell me about it, James?"

Bucky sighed. "Nobody at the office should know because then we have to sign the HR papers. And I can't do that."

"Ah," she said, a small smile on her face. "Because of your obvious fear of commitment?"

"Because it's too soon!"

"So you'll do it eventually?" She smirked at him.

"No! I don't know! Stop bugging me," Bucky said, crossing his arms across his chest.

Natasha laughed, and said, "You whine like a child, you know that?"

"Fuck off," he muttered back.

"Love you too, James."

She eventually chose a movie, and Bucky scooted closer to her, resting against her side with his feet up on the coffee table. She propped her arm on top of the back of the couch, gently stroking his long hair.

Both of them were happy to have made such a good friend.

***

Bucky stood on the doorstep of Steve's brownstone, debating whether or not to undo one more button on his shirt. He had already exposed half his chest to the cold, mid-December air, and his long, black woolen coat wasn't providing a thick enough barrier from the zero degree chill. He decided against it; he had already deployed enough tactics to get Steve into bed with him. His tightest black jeans to make his ass look just right, his loose short sleeve button-down fluttering revealingly, and even a tiny smudge of eyeliner to make the pale blue of his eyes sharper. If this didn't work, nothing would.

Their second and third date had been wonderful - conversation flowed, stories were told, and the goodnight kissing intensified. And on both dates, as Steve walked Bucky back to his apartment building, Bucky silently hoped that Steve would come inside and he could finally get what he'd been anticipating since checking Steve out in the elevator all those weeks ago.

"Buck, hi," Steve said when he swung open the front door. "It's good to see you." He planted a soft kiss on Bucky's open mouth, and Bucky smiled a little, his hand coming up to stroke Steve's cheek.

They walked for two blocks, hand in hand, under the yellow-tinted streetlights. Bucky looked over at Steve every now and then, taking in his strong jaw, his golden hair, the curve of his lips. Bucky thrummed with anticipation for the possibility of the night. He glanced at Steve as he let out an infectious laugh, unable to help the grin that came over his own face; watching Steve made his heart twinge a little, and he tried to put it off as simply looking forward to sex, as if Steve wasn't quickly becoming the center of Bucky's little world.

The lights of the art exhibit spilled onto the street, and the soft jazz and murmur of people could be heard a block away. Steve tugged Bucky by the hand, toward the open door.

"How'd you find out about this exhibit?" Bucky asked, as they walked through the entry into the open space, taking in the walls covered in soft abstract paintings.

"The artist's an old friend. We went to college together," Steve said, slipping off his leather jacket and hanging it on a coat rack by the door. Bucky shrugged his jacket off as well, hanging it up next to Steve's.

Steve turned back to him, nearly doing a double take, and Bucky saw with satisfaction that his efforts had paid off.

Steve's eyes traveled from his defined thighs to his plunging shirt to his mussed hair and lined eyes. He didn't say anything for a moment, a flush coming up from under his collar. He hadn't seen Bucky dress intentionally sexy before, and Bucky pulled out all the stops at once. Steve had a right to be flustered.

"Bucky," he breathed. Bucky couldn't help biting his lip, and Steve's darkened eyes flitted down to stare openly at his mouth. Steve stepped closer, wrapping a strong arm around his waist.

"Mhm?" Bucky asked, with wide, innocent eyes.

"Are you..." he hesitated, clearly trying to collect his thoughts. He met Bucky's eyes. For a few seconds, they continued to stand by the coat rack in the crowded art exhibit, completely wrapped up in each other's gaze. "Are you wearing eyeliner?" Steve finally got out, guiding Bucky into the exhibit with the arm around him.

"Maybe a little. Why? You like it?" Bucky wasn't fishing for compliments, per se, but he sure was happy to milk this reaction.

Steve leaned in closer, so they were practically pressed chest to chest. He ducked his head to mutter into Bucky's ear, "I can't tell you how much I like it." He leaned back, blatantly checking Bucky out once more. "You just - you look good, Buck."

Bucky couldn't help the heat that rose to his cheeks, but instead of giving in to the bashfulness, he broke away from Steve. Turning on his heel, he strode towards a painting on the far wall, deliberately swaying his hips, knowing that Steve was watching. "Let's go look at some art," he said over his shoulder.

Steve groaned half-jokingly and caught up with Bucky, resting a hand on his lower back. They shared a small smile, and Bucky turned back to the swirly blue painting, sensing that Steve was still watching him with that fond look that made Bucky's heart twinge.

***

The exhibit was still in full swing when Steve pointed Bucky towards the coat rack, with no more than a "grab our coats, Buck". Bucky wanted to cheer; it had worked. Steve had watched him all night, staring at his ass and his chest and his sharp eyes. Whenever Bucky bit his lip, Steve's eyes would darken. It was like he had Steve wrapped around his finger, which Bucky found to be an intoxicating feeling.

Bucky had met the artist earlier, a man named Pietro, who was friendly and funny and clearly a good friend to Steve. Bucky hadn't seen Steve with an out-of-work friend before, and it was refreshing to watch them joke around. He seemed so much more...real. Ridiculously handsome, still, but also real.

Now Steve was across the room, congratulating Pietro on his work and saying goodbye, as Bucky untangled their coats from the hangers. All it had taken in the end was for Bucky to stand on his tiptoes, whisper an innocent little comment about the painting they were looking at into Steve's ear, and then give his ear a teasing brush of his lips. Maybe a little lick, too, and an open-mouthed kiss on his jaw. When he looked back at Steve's face, his eyes were shut, his lower lip between his teeth.

Steve came back over with a determined briskness, grabbing Bucky's hand and sweeping Bucky out the door with him. "Sorry. Couldn't wait any longer," he said, a little breathless.

It was exhilarating, to be wanted by Steve Rogers.

They were back at Bucky's place in half the time it took them to get to the exhibit. As Bucky fumbled with his keys, Steve draped himself over his back, dragging his lips down his neck. Bucky shivered as Steve's hand came around to his stomach, pressing him back into Steve's broad chest. The lock clicked open, and they fell through the door together.

As the door swung shut behind them, Steve swept Bucky into his strong arms, bringing a hand to cup the base of his head. He pulled him into a desperate kiss, and they were soon a tangle of grasping arms and breathy pants as Steve's hands roamed up and down his body, rumpling his carefully chosen outfit.

Bucky could feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight as Steve pushed him deeper into the apartment, lips still attached to his neck. There was going to be a mark there tomorrow, Bucky was sure of it. The thought made his head spin, and he pulled Steve closer by his hips. Bucky let out a small gasp, and was elated to feel that he wasn't the only one so extremely aroused by this make out session, if the hard length in Steve's jeans was anything to go by.

"This isn't too soon?" Bucky mumbled into his mouth, hands coming down to unbuckle Steve's belt. He was praying Steve would say no, but he had to be sure. He didn't want to pressure him, and Steve had said that he wanted to take it slower.

To Bucky's relief, Steve shook his head, hungry eyes still staring down at Bucky's lips. "It's not soon enough," he said, frantic hands coming up to unbutton the rest of Bucky's shirt. "Not with you looking like that."

Steve's belt slid teasingly out of its loops, and Bucky laughed a little in delight. His shirt came fully undone, and Steve calloused hands roamed the new territory, flicking over his nipples and making Bucky let out a breathy moan. In an instant, Steve's mouth was back on his, swallowing up his sounds. His hands came down to cup Bucky's ass through his jeans, and Bucky found himself swept up into his arms. He wrapped his legs around Steve's narrow waist, grinding down against him. They both gasped, foreheads rested against each other, catching their breath together.

Steve began walking him towards the bedroom, hands secured under his ass, making Bucky tingle in excitement. Things were escalating farther than they ever had before, and Bucky felt like he was being enveloped in Steve, consumed by him; nothing else mattered at all. This was it for him.

He didn't have the capability of processing that thought at the moment, so instead of the typical freak out, he just let Steve do whatever he wanted.

He was laid gently on the bed, but then Steve was on top of him, anything but gentle. His rough, roaming hands made Bucky shiver as they gripped his bare waist, and his hips came down to grind against Bucky's hard length in his pants. Bucky could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He needed more, he needed it faster.

"Hurry up," Bucky begged, back arching off the mattress to get as much contact as possible.

Steve stopped his movements for a moment to stare down at Bucky, sprawled out under him. He smiled softly, and Bucky felt the mood shift a little. "You're so beautiful, Buck."

Bucky looked up at him, face flushed and dick achingly hard in his pants. He let out a little laugh. "I should wear eyeliner more often."

Steve shook his head, bringing his hands up to stroke Bucky's face, across his brow and down his cheekbone as if he were admiring a work of art. "No, I mean, you're just so beautiful. Seeing you, even around the office... you have no idea what it does to me."

Bucky preened under the compliments, staying quiet in case Steve wanted to say more.

"Ever since I met you, the second I met you in that elevator, I thought you were the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on." Just as with everything else, he was confident and bold in his praise, and Bucky could feel the heat all the way down his chest. Steve kissed the reddened skin, down from his sternum and up to his raw, bitten lips. Bucky's head was held in place by strong hands, and he moaned a little when Steve licked into his mouth with an eager tongue.

They broke apart for a gasping breath. "Ever since I met you," Bucky whispered back, "I've wanted you fuck me so bad."

Steve groaned, diving in to devour Bucky once more.

***

Bucky squinted at the light streaming in through the window, realizing they had forgotten to close the blinds the night before. He couldn't help smiling softly, letting his eyes drift over to the warm body pressed up against his.

Steve's eyelashes fanned over his cheeks when he slept, and his face was peacefully blank; he didn't look like Bucky's boss at all. He was just a man, and Bucky wanted to curl back up in his arms and stay there forever. He felt satisfied and a little sore; the perfect morning-after combination.

Steve's arm was draped heavily over Bucky's waist, keeping them tangled together under the sheets, and Bucky shifted slowly to free himself without waking Steve. He placed Steve's arm gently on the bed where he had laid, and he leaned over to kiss Steve lightly on his pink cheek. He stroked a hand through Steve's hair, leaning back down to press his lips to his temple, watching him sleep for a moment.

He could hear Clint rattling around in the kitchen, and quickly shook himself out of his sentimental reverie, climbing off the bed. He tugged on a pair of sweatpants and shut his bedroom door carefully behind him.

"Hey, man," Clint said, loud and bright, and Bucky shushed him frantically.

"Steve's sleeping," he whispered, gesturing to his room door.

Clint's eyes widened, and he whipped around to look at the closed room door. He turned back to Bucky, chuckling softly, "How was it?"

Bucky passed behind him, opening a cabinet to find a bowl. "It was so good, Clint."

"Long time coming, too. I've been hearing you whine about this this for weeks," Clint grinned, sliding a box of cereal over to Bucky, who poured it carelessly into his bowl.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm satisfied now, so you can finally catch a break."

"I'm glad," Clint laughed, taking the milk out of the fridge and pouring some into his cereal, and a little into Bucky's bowl as well. "Oh, speaking of, I'm going in to work tonight, and Nat's probably coming over after that, just warning you."

Bucky nodded. "Sounds good," he said, before frowning. "Hey, why didn't you tell me about that?"

"Didn't want to jinx it until it was a real thing. Sorry, pal. Should've told you," Clint shrugged, sliding a spoon towards Bucky, and grabbing one for himself.

"You didn't want to jinx it?" Bucky asked, incredulous.

"Exactly," Clint replied, digging into his cereal.

"Are you four?"

"If I'm four, than you're the weirdo whose roommate is four."

Bucky laughed through his mouthful of cereal. They both rested their elbows against the counter, and stood in comfortable silence for a while.

Clint eventually spoke. "So, now what?"

"Now... what?" Bucky echoed, confused.

"Are you guys going to be, like, boyfriends now?"

Bucky glared at him, unimpressed. "You know I don't do boyfriends. Why do you keep bugging me about this?"

"Because I don't get it," Clint said, a little louder than Bucky would have liked.

"I don't want commitment. You know that." Bucky stared down at his cereal, poking around with his spoon.

"I mean, I would get it if it was an independence thing, but it's just 'cause you're scared of commitment," Clint said, concerned. "And that's no good, Bucky, because you really seem to like this guy."

"I'm not afraid of commitment," Bucky sighed, "and quit ruining my happy morning-after buzz."

"Sorry," Clint said, and he looked genuinely apologetic, so Bucky softened. Clint still edged in one last word. "I just hate to think that Pierce could ruin a possible great relationship for you, even after he's long gone."

"For the millionth time, this is not about Alex!" Bucky could hear his own voice raising, unable to stop it.

His bedroom door creaked open, and both men whipped around to face it. Steve walked out, barefoot, dressed in the rumpled clothes he wore last night. His hair was disheveled in such a sexy way, and Bucky was relived to see that he had a contented look on his face. He probably hadn't heard that conversation, then.

"Morning," Steve said, his voice husky from just waking up.

Bucky met his eyes, and Steve gave him a heart-twinging, fond look. Then, his eyes gave a quick, appreciative flick to his bare abdomen. Bucky licked his dry lips, turning to glance at Clint, realizing that they hadn't properly met. "Steve, this is Clint, my roommate."

"Peter Pan Clint?" Steve asked, good-natured.

Clint nodded, turning excitedly to Bucky. "That tells you it was a good costume, if he remembers it almost a month later."

"He probably just remembers the tights, man." Bucky said, and Steve let out a loud, confirming laugh.

Clint flushed, holding out his hand. "You must be the boss. I've heard a lot about you," he said, emphasizing the 'a lot', clearly to get back at Bucky for the tights jab.

Steve shook his hand firmly, a warm smile on his face. "I guess I'm a bit more than the boss, now."

"I'd say," Clint winked at Bucky, who turned pointedly back to his cereal. "So, Steve, do you want something to eat? I can make you some cereal."

"Cereal would be great," Steve said, friendly and bright. Bucky wanted to drag him right back to his bedroom. However, it was almost ten thirty, and it was probably best that they got some sustenance in them. Steve had been having a serious workout, after all.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back," Bucky said, pushing off the counter, heading towards the bathroom door on the opposite side of the room. Steve was clearly having trouble keeping his eyes off Bucky's abs, so when he passed him, he reached down, subtle, giving Steve's ass a little squeeze. Steve inhaled sharply.

Clint, innocent as ever, chatted loudly as Bucky disappeared behind the door.

"Okay, Steve, tell me if I'm going crazy and hearing voices, but does Bucky still talk in his sleep?"

"Oh my god, yeah. But it's not really talking-"

"It's like mumbling! I can hear it through the walls at night."

"That's it! It happened twice last night, that I know of."

"So I'm not going crazy!"

"Not in that way, at least."

There was the echoing sound of laughter from the kitchen, and Bucky could easily hear it through the bathroom door. He looked into the mirror, studying his mussed hair, the dark red hickey on his neck, and the lingering flush on his cheeks.

As he overheard Clint and Steve move on to discussing another of his quirks, he couldn't help but grin.

***

Christmas was in a week, so despite the heavily falling snow, Steve took Bucky to a nearby market to shop for presents.

Once they were finished, they trudged back to Bucky's apartment, dropped their bags on the kitchen counter, and helped each other peel off hats and jackets. Cold lips met in warm kisses, and Bucky was pretty certain he knew where this was going as he walked backwards to his bedroom door, pulling Steve along with him. Steve's hands had unzipped his coat, and his icy fingers slipped under Bucky's shirt, making him shiver. Bucky's hands slipped down to pop open the button on Steve's jeans. This was their third date since they first slept together, and both times previously had ended with Bucky passed out in bed, sore and satisfied. He was so ready for it to happen again.

However, Steve said something that made him stop in his tracks.

He had mumbled gently against Bucky's lips, "Hang on, hang on."

"What?" Bucky asked, half-listening, trying to get Steve's jacket off over his shoulders.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something," he said, breathless. Bucky's lips placed wet kisses against his neck, travelling up to bite at his jaw. Steve grabbed his shoulders, but didn't stop him. Bucky hummed, telling him to keep talking, and Steve sighed out, "I think it's time we made it official."

Bucky's lips stilled on his neck, but he didn't lean back. "Make what official?" he asked, his voice a little muffled into Steve's skin.

Steve laughed, completely confident in his words. Bucky leaned back, brows furrowed. "That we're... boyfriends," Steve shrugged, playing with a strand of Bucky's hair, as if it were no big deal.

"But we're not boyfriends," Bucky said flatly.

Steve's smile began to fade. "Exactly. That's why I wanted to make it official."

"Why would you think I wanted that?" Bucky said, a little harsher than intended.

Steve flinched, smile completely gone now. "Because... because we see each other almost every other day? Because I don't want to date anyone else, I want to be with you completely. I-"

"Steve, stop," Bucky snapped. "I don't want a relationship. I've said that before."

"I thought maybe you changed your mind," Steve said quietly, looking down at the floor. It was one of those times where his confidence was gone, and it always made Bucky feel unstable and nervous. "I thought that you felt differently about... me."

Bucky stared at him, but Steve wouldn't meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Steve frowned at his feet. "I thought... I thought I was different from those guys you would sleep with, from Matt." Steve let out a humorless chuckle. "I guess not."

He looked so resigned, so sad, Bucky felt a wave of guilt. "Steve, no, you're right," he said, taking Steve's hand. Their fingers warmed against each other, and Bucky gave his hand a small squeeze. "This is different from those other guys. This is special."

"But you won't be my boyfriend?" Steve just looked so confused, and hurt still flickered in his eyes.

Bucky sighed. "No."

"Can I ask why?"

Bucky shook his head, but said, "I can't explain it properly. I just... don't want to put myself in that position."

"Because you're scared?" Steve asked, a little forceful, and Bucky dropped his hand.

"No," he scowled. Steve looked taken aback by his attitude, and quietly reached down to button his pants back up.

They stared at each other for a moment, Steve seeming as if he were trying to choose his words carefully. "The other day, I heard Clint talking about a guy named... Pierce, I think it was? Is it because of him?"

Bucky froze, anger flaring in his chest. Steve looked as if he knew he just made a big mistake, and Bucky He stepped back from Steve, walking to the front door. "I cannot believe you eavesdropped on me, Steve!" he spat, voice raising.

"I couldn't help it!" Steve replied, loud and defensive.

Bucky opened the door so forcefully that it swung dangerously on its hinges. "I want you to leave."

Steve didn't move, didn't say anything at all. He just stared at Bucky, as if he were an extremely difficult puzzle that was driving him mad.

"Get out! Go home," Bucky barked. "I'm done with this conversation."

Steve gaped at him. "Well, I'm not!" he said, crossing his arms stubbornly and staying planted firmly where he was.

Bucky let out a frustrated noise, shutting the door firmly. Steve began to talk rapidly, clearly trying to patch up this fight.

"I don't know who this guy is or what he did to you, Buck, but I promise I'm not like that," he said, stepping towards Bucky with his arms outstretched. "I asked to be your boyfriend for no reason except that I care about you. I wanted us to be on the same page."

Bucky stayed silent, still fuming a little, but he let Steve hold both his wrists.

"By the same page I meant I only want to see you, and I want you to only see me," Steve went on, a little desperate but in a sweet way. "I want us to be together in a way that's definable, and real. Not just dating. That way, you can't just leave." He faded out, soft and vulnerable, and Bucky felt himself open up.

"Steve, you could be someone's boyfriend and they could leave. They could always leave. You can't prevent that."

"Yeah, but it would be bigger to stop being someone's boyfriend than to stop dating someone. Dating means so little. I want more than that with you."

They had returned to speaking soft and gentle, Steve holding Bucky's arms, and Bucky looking up into his honest face.

"What if I told you that you were more to me than just a guy I'm dating," Bucky's wide eyes were pleading. "Could that be enough?"

Steve watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he let out a little sigh, rubbing his hands up and down Bucky's arms once. "Yeah. Yeah, it could, Buck."

Bucky bit his lip. "Sorry I can't give you more than that."

Steve slowly pulled him into a comforting hug. Bucky felt a wave of relief, melting into Steve's strong embrace. "It's okay," Steve said, pressing his lips into Bucky's hair to give him a light kiss.

"So we're good?" Bucky asked, muffled into Steve's shoulder.

"We're good," Steve said, holding him tight.

Bucky hesitated, but Steve didn't let go. "I swear I'll tell you about Alex one day. Pierce, I mean. The guy you heard Clint talking about."

"There's no rush, Buck," Steve said. Bucky could hear the small smile in his voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

***

On Monday morning, Natasha walked into their office with two steaming cups of coffee, carefully placing one beside the papers on Bucky's desk.

As she sank into her own chair, Bucky warmed his hands on his mug. "What have I done to deserve you?" He glanced at her with a grateful smile, bringing the coffee to his lips.

She just winked at him, taking a little sip from her own cup. "So, Clint sort of filled me in, but I'd like the full scoop from you," she said, bluntly.

Bucky groaned. "See, this is why I hate that you're seeing him!"

"So?" She encouraged, ignoring his complaints. "The scoop?"

He glared at her, but gave her a response. "Steve's come over a few times over the past week and a half. The sex is great, he's great, everything's great," he said, flatly.

"Clint said you won't commit to him."

"Clint is going to be evicted by me if you guys keep talking about me behind my back," Bucky grumbled. "Besides, why is everyone obsessed with commitment all of a sudden? Why can't I just casually date?"

"Because you're obsessed with him, and your fear of commitment's getting in the way of you being happy?" Natasha always spoke like she was stating obvious facts. "We just want you to be happy, James."

"Gee, thanks," he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You're welcome," she replied, not giving into his sarcasm. "Okay, I feel I've said enough. Shall we move on? I need you to look at this design before I take it to Maria."

Bucky sighed in relief, putting his mug back down on his desk and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Let's see it."

***

"Buck, I wanted to ask," Steve said, sinking into his pillows. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Steve's bed was massive. From where Bucky stood in front of it, trying to find his discarded underwear, Steve seemed almost small sitting in the center. He was completely naked, the sheet draped over his waist, hands folded on his bare stomach. Bucky snatched his boxers off the floor, stepping into them and looking up at Steve. He was beautiful in the moonlight, and Bucky could stare at his smooth chest and golden hair for hours, but it was late on Tuesday night and they both had to be at work the next day.

"Uh, I don't know," he said absentmindedly, tugging on his pants. "I went home for Thanksgiving, so I'll probably stay here for Christmas."

"Okay," Steve said, fiddling with the bedsheet. He clearly wanted to say something else, so Bucky was quiet as he retrieved the rest of his clothes. Once he was fully dressed, he walked over to the side of the bed, sitting down gently. He buttoned up the last button on his shirt, watching Steve with a soft smile.

Steve reached out, cupping Bucky's face with his big hand. Bucky nuzzled into the touch, kissing his palm. He sighed, wondering if he could possibly be happier or cozier than this. Steve brought his hand down to his shoulder, pulling Bucky onto his lap. Bucky went willingly, cuddling up against Steve's side. Steve pressed his face into Bucky's hair, wrapping his strong arms around Bucky's slender frame.

His voice was muffled against Bucky's hair. "Don't freak out," Steve began, and Bucky tensed a little.

"What a comforting way to begin," Bucky said, leaning back a little to look into Steve's uncertain blue eyes.

"No, I just..." Steve hesitated, distractedly playing with a long strand of Bucky's hair. "I was just wondering if you wanted to spend Christmas with me. Here."

Bucky froze, looking down to where Steve was pressed against him. He didn't know what to do or say, he didn't even know what he was feeling. Was this moving too fast? They weren't even in a relationship, technically, so it wouldn't be normal to spend a whole holiday together.

But it was so beautiful to be wanted by Steve Rogers.

He looked back up, realizing that Steve was trying and failing to hide how crestfallen he was by Bucky's long pause. "Look, you can think about it if you want-" Steve began.

"Yes."

"Yes you want to think about it?" Steve asked, testing the waters. He bit his lip and Bucky leaned up to kiss it loose. Their lips moved lightly against each other, and Steve let out a hum of appreciation.

They broke apart, noses still brushing, and Bucky said, "Yes, I'll stay here for Christmas."

"Really?" Steve asked, excitement pouring out of him as he grinned. Bucky nuzzled up under his jaw.

"Yeah, I'd love to." He kissed the soft skin of his neck. "Thanks, Steve."

Steve grabbed his face in both hands, bringing their lips together once more. They kissed for a long, content moment. Steve licked tenderly into Bucky's mouth, and Bucky shifted his leg to straddle Steve's waist. Steve's hands slid from his hair to his hips, and their bodies moved in perfect sync.

"No, don't thank me. Thank you," Steve said, a little happy laugh bubbling out of his chest.

At that sound, Bucky couldn't help but grin.

***

Waking up next to Steve was something Bucky could get used to. His golden hair was always an endearing mess, and Bucky loved seeing it before he had time to tame it or gel it down. Steve would always have a heavy arm slung over Bucky's waist, and his pink lips would be parted innocently against the pillow. Sometimes, Bucky would reach a finger up to trace them. He would drag a finger up and down his jaw and brow before Steve woke up.

It was getting a little hard to convince himself that they weren't anything serious. Bucky would be torn up if Steve left, and that feeling was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid.

Christmas fell on Sunday, so Bucky had dragged his duffel bag to Steve's brownstone on Thursday afternoon. He took a shower, put on his fuzzy Christmas socks, and got under the covers with Steve as the sun was setting.

It was Saturday morning, Christmas Eve, and Bucky was the first one awake again. After watching Steve's bare chest rise and fall under the sheets for a minute, he quietly slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen in just his boxers. He was comfortable here now, which was easy because the place was so homey. Soft couches in the living room, marble countertops in the kitchen crowded with appliances, and tall windows everywhere that gave a stunning view of the falling snow.

Bucky had made himself a cup of coffee and was standing in front of the window, watching the blizzard outside, when a warm arm encircled his waist from behind. "I like seeing you like this," Steve whispered into his ear, voice raspy from just waking up.

"In my boxers?" Bucky smirked.

"In my house," Steve said, pressing his lips to Bucky's temple.

Bucky turned around to face Steve, placing his forearms on Steve's shoulders and lacing his fingers together behind his neck. "Merry Christmas Eve," he murmured.

Steve gave him that fond look that made Bucky's heart twinge. "Merry Christmas Eve, Buck," Steve said, leaning down to peck Bucky on the lips. He placed both hands on Bucky's hips, so that they stood in almost a slow-dancing position. "What are you feeling for breakfast?"

"Mmm," Bucky hummed, thinking of something that wouldn't take too much time. "I don't know. Eggs?"

"We've had eggs every morning," Steve said, swaying a little. "Let's do something special."

And that's how the house wound up smelling of pancake batter, while Bucky sat on the kitchen counter, eating chocolate chips out of the bag, and Steve fiddled with the stove. A companionable silence settled between them as Steve began pouring batter onto the pan, and eventually flipping pancakes onto a plate next to him.

Bucky watched Steve's back muscles ripple as he worked. He wore a thin white T-shirt and grey sweatpants, and Bucky let his eyes linger on the curve of Steve's ass as he watched the man from behind. His hair was getting a little long, Bucky noticed. It was beginning to curl at the base of his neck and around his ears. Bucky felt warm just looking at him.

As he sat there watching Steve, feeling comfortable and satisfied, he finally worked up the courage to say the words he'd been mulling over for quite a while now.

He cleared his throat. "Can I, uh, tell you about Alex now? Pierce, I mean?"

Steve paused in his pancake flipping for a moment, but didn't turn around. "You can tell me anything, Buck. As long as you're ready."

"Yeah, I think I'm ready," he said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He took a deep breath, and began.

"Alex Pierce was a guy I dated from junior year of college till last year. So, that's just over three years." He glanced up at the back of Steve's head, but Steve just kept flipping the pancakes, respectfully giving Bucky the space he needed to share this with him. "He was a few years older than me, and he was really charismatic. Everyone liked him," he let out a humorless chuckle. "Stories like this always start with that. I think you know where this is headed."

Steve scratched the back of his neck. "I think I do... but I really hope I'm wrong, Buck."

Bucky couldn't see his expression, which was probably for the best. He didn't want to see the pity on Steve's face.

"So we dated for a few months, and he was really nice at first. I mean, he bought me gifts and paid for everything, and I was pretty broke at the time so that was great. And I was spending so much time with him, my life sort of revolved around him, you know?" He didn't wait for Steve to answer, he just barreled on, trying to get through this without too many voice cracks or stutters. "We moved in together right before my senior year, because he had a really nice place close to my school. And, yeah, it was when we started living together that it got bad. We wouldn't fight all the time, but when we did, it was terrifying. He'd say horrible stuff, but I didn't really have anywhere to go. He, um, he hit me a few times," he forced out. Steve swore as he flipped a pancake crookedly.

"He would hit me, but I thought it was fine because we were both guys, you know. Guys hit each other, sometimes. And it's no big deal. Plus, he'd clean me up and apologize right after. He would- he'd always tell me he loved me." Bucky let out a long, shaky breath. He was almost done. Steve was still standing in front of the stove, frozen, pancake flipping forgotten for the moment.

"Clint really wanted me to leave Alex, but I - I just couldn't do that. So I wasn't really talking to Clint for a while, and that was tough. He never stopped trying, though."

"I fucking love Clint," Steve interrupted in a rough voice.

Bucky let out a small laugh. "Yeah. Me too," he sighed, nervously swinging his legs where they hung off the counter. "Um, then it sort of escalated, and last summer I was finally fed up with it all and I left him and moved in with Clint."

"Oh," Steve said, sounding a little surprised at the sharp end to Bucky's story.

"Yeah." Bucky didn't know how to explain it, so maybe it was best he didn't try.

Steve scraped a stray piece of batter off the pan. "Do you, uh... what happened? If you don't mind me asking. You don't have to tell me," Steve added, quickly.

Bucky hesitated, rubbing his bare arms. "It's fine," he said quietly. "Near the end, after we would fight, I would just go to straight to bed. But then sometimes he'd come to apologize and I would just pretend to be asleep. But then he... he'd wind up sleeping with me." Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. "I - I would tell him to stop, but I never actually fought him off."

He could see Steve's back muscles tense as if he were getting ready for a fight. The back of his neck was reddening, and he gripped the spatula tightly.

"So, I didn't know if it was even wrong. I mean, we were boyfriends. We were supposed to have sex. Which is so ridiculous, looking back. It was... it was rape, I guess. God. I was pretty stupid."

"No," Steve said sharply.

"Yeah, I was," Bucky sighed. "I kept telling myself that this was just what relationships were. I hadn't had a serious boyfriend before that, and I thought I loved him, so I figured it was fine that he was sleeping with me when I didn't want him to. Because we loved each other." Bucky let out a humorless chuckle. "But then I come home early from a trip to Indiana to see my family, and there's some girl in our bed. Turns out he was cheating on me the whole time. And that's what did it. I took all my stuff, I moved in with Clint. I never saw Alex again. I thought he would at least come to apologize, but... like I said, I was stupid."

"No," Steve repeated, voice strangled. "You weren't stupid. God, Buck," he breathed out, almost as if to himself. He still didn't turn around, but the stove was off and the pancakes were done. His hands gripped the sides of the counter, and Bucky watched his tense back, waiting for him to speak. Steve rubbed the back of his neck, which was still pink, just like the tips of his ears. He didn't turn around, though, and he didn't say anything for a long while.

Eventually, Bucky spoke tentatively. "You okay?"

"Am I okay?" Steve repeated, incredulous, finally spinning around to face Bucky. His eyes were bright, full of concern and anger at Bucky's situation. There was also a little of that fondness that was always there when he looked at Bucky. "Are you? I mean... Bucky, I'm so sorry," Steve said, stepping forwards so he could place his hands on Bucky's legs. It was a comforting gesture, and he breathed into the touch. Steve rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, and they held eye contact for a minute.

"I'm fine now," Bucky shrugged, as Steve's hands came up to hold his waist. "I'm glad I told you."

"I'm glad you told me, too," Steve said, stepping even closer so that he was wedged between Bucky's legs. Bucky wrapped them around Steve's hips, hooking his ankles together behind Steve's back. His hands went up to stroke his golden hair, and they were intertwined so comfortably, they stood like that for quite a while.

"I get it now," Steve finally said. "Why you don't want a boyfriend."

Bucky let out a sigh of relief. "You do?"

"Yeah," Steve answered, voice low and quiet. "That title's come with so much shit for you." His warm hands felt soothing on Bucky's bare skin, as his fingers rubbed gently into his back.

After a pause Steve spoke again, and it was much more desperate, as if he were pleading Bucky to understand. "You have to know I would never do that to you, Buck. I would never."

"I know."

Steve's grip on his waist tightened. "I would never hurt you, I swear."

Bucky shook his head. "Don't make that promise. Nobody ever keeps that promise."

"I will," Steve said, and it was so determined that Bucky couldn't help leaning smiling a little. He leaned forwards, so that their foreheads pressed together gently, and they breathed the same air for a moment.

"Steve," Bucky exhaled, not to say anything else, just to confirm that he was here with him. He was holding Steve, who wasn't going to hurt him. He didn't have to worry; he didn't have to keep his guard up. Steve held his head in his hands, thumbs running lightly over his cheekbones and fingers buried in his clean hair.

"I would never do anything to you that you didn't want me to," Steve said, staring into his eyes. The intensity made him shiver, and he closed his eyes to take in Steve's voice. "And I would never cheat on you."

Steve was still taller than Bucky, who sat on the counter, and Bucky looked up at him with wide eyes. When Steve sighed and wrapped him in a proper bear hug, his face was buried into Steve's warm shoulder. He could feel Steve pressing a kiss to the side of his head, whispering "never," into his hair. Bucky felt himself sag in relief at Steve's promise.

Inches of snow fell outside the window, and Steve's firm hold never weakened. They breathed together, Bucky feeling safer and more confident than he had in years.

After a long, quiet moment, Bucky finally whispered, "How about some pancakes?"

Steve laughed, releasing him from the hug. "Coming right up."

***

It was one of the best Christmases Bucky had ever had.

He spent most of it curled in bed beside Steve, watching Christmas movies, eating cookies, and chatting for hours. They had tons of sleepy morning sex, and Steve proved to be a stellar post-sex cuddler. On Christmas Day, Steve took him to a nearby skating rink where Bucky had fallen on his ass twelve times, Steve standing over him and laughing.

"This is not very kind," he would grumble, brushing snow off the back of his pants.

"Sorry, sorry," Steve would chuckle, pulling Bucky up and stabilizing him. "I can't help it. You squeaked that time."

"I did not squeak!"

"Fine, maybe not," Steve had said airily, letting go of Bucky.

Bucky scrambled to clutch his arm. "No, no, fine, I squeaked! Just don't let go."

Once they had trudged back home in the snow, Steve carrying both pairs of skates and Bucky holding warm hot chocolates, Bucky called Becca to wish his family Merry Christmas. Steve retreated to his studio at the back of the house, and Bucky was grateful Steve didn't push to meet his family. It was probably too soon.

Still, he was staying at this guy's house. The idea of love, while it terrified him, seemed to be circling nearer and nearer. Maybe 'too soon' was becoming a weak excuse.

"Where the hell are you?" Becca had asked, suspicious.

"A friend's house," Bucky waved her off.

"Becca, don't say that word!" Bucky could hear his mom shouting from another room.

"What friend? A boyfriend?" Becca pressed. "Oh, that Steve guy you were going on about!"

"Bye, Becca! Merry Christmas!" Bucky slowly began shutting his laptop.

"No! No, wait," Becca said, stopping him from ending the call. "I'll stop the interrogation. Tell me about Clint, how is he?"

Clint had spent the weekend at their apartment with Natasha, to the extent of Bucky's knowledge. Bucky returned there on Monday afternoon, after Natasha had left. Steve had to work the next day, which was ridiculous because this was the one week of the year that almost everyone took off. But not Steve. They'd spend New Year's together, sure, but their little Christmas getaway was over.

For all of Monday, Bucky didn't have the motivation to do anything. He was bummed that the weekend was over, and he already missed having Steve around to touch and talk to whenever he wanted.

"You had a good Christmas?" Clint asked. They sat together on the sofa at the end of the day, drinking bottles of beer and watching a nature show on Netflix.

"Yeah," Bucky sighed.

"Good," Clint clinked his bottle against Bucky's. "I'm happy for you, man."

"How was yours?" Bucky was pretty sure he knew the answer given Clint's permanent smile, but he asked anyways.

Clint's grin grew wider. "Fantastic."

Bucky chuckled a little. "I'm glad."

They both sat in silence for a while, sipping on their drinks and watching turtles swim tranquilly on the screen, as a narrator's rumbling voice spoke low in the background.

After a few minutes, Bucky took a deep breath. "I told him about Alex," he said, still staring at the television.

"Huh?" Clint seemed to have zoned out.

"I told him about Alex," Bucky repeated. "I told him what happened."

"You told Steve?" Clint asked, unbelieving.

"Yeah. He took it really well."

"He took it well?"

Bucky looked at him, frowning. "Are you slow?"

Clint slapped him on the shoulder. "Shut up, I'm just having trouble processing. I mean, I didn't expect this at all. How did he get it out of you?"

"He didn't get it out of me," Bucky said, thinking back to the moment he decided to open up. He couldn't really remember what he'd been thinking. "I just... I just wanted to tell him. So I did."

"So you did," Clint echoed, shaking his head in disbelief.

Bucky hummed in agreement, glancing over to Clint.

"This is kind of big for you," Clint said, trying and failing to hide his proud smile. "I don't want to freak you out, but this is a big step."

"I know," Bucky said with a small smile. "I guess we have Steve to thank."

Clint seemed thoughtful as he took another sip. "No," he said, shaking his head. "This one's all you."

***

The rest of Bucky's holiday was a little lackluster compared to his weekend with Steve, but he spent quality time with Clint and watched a ton of movies, so he wasn't complaining. Plus, Steve finished work at five every day, so Bucky spent his evenings at his brownstone. He had gotten really comfortable there, and Steve was always happy to cook and cuddle and sleep with him. That house may as well have been Bucky's personal heaven, considering how happy he felt when he spent time there.

In fact, Bucky couldn't remember a partner he'd felt so comfortable with. Steve was open, sweet, and refreshing; he never wanted to leave. He didn't know anyone he'd rather be around.

So of course the other shoe had to drop soon enough.

Two weeks into January, Bucky's computer crashed again. He and Natasha had been in the break room, drinking coffee and making fun of the new interns - in a nice, teasing way of course - when his computer decided to screw him again. He returned to his office to find it shut down, his work deleted.

"Why does this keep happening?" he groaned.

"Go downstairs. Let IT look at it," Natasha said. She glanced over at his screen and winced. "Bucky, that computer's like three hundred years old. Get a new one, SHIELD will pay for it, you know."

"Later," he sighed. "I need to do this again, first."

She frowned, giving his back a little rub. "Sorry, James. You gonna be here late?"

Bucky nodded. "It's all good," he shrugged. "Didn't really have anywhere to be tonight."

"You're not going out with Steve?"

"No," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. "He said he was busy tonight."

She gave him a consoling smile. "Don't look so bummed. You see him, like, every other day."

"I know," he grumbled, turning back to his computer. "He has a life, I guess."

"Unlike you," she snarked. He shot her a glare, and she defended herself with a big grin. "Oh, come on, you totally set yourself up for that one."

He just groaned, preparing himself to sulk for a good few hours while he started on the work that got deleted. It wasn't too tough, but he'd probably be two or three hours late to go home.

At five, Natasha threw on her coat, giving him a quick hug as she left. He stayed hunched over his computer, sipping coffee and humming a little.

Time passed fast, and it was nearing six thirty when the office was completely empty and dark. Bucky estimated that he would be there until seven, and he found himself surprisingly satisfied with himself. His work had been even better the second time around, so he didn't feel like he wasted his time, and it's not like he could have spent the time with Steve, anyways.

And then he remembered: Steve! Maybe Steve was working late too, and that's why he couldn't see Bucky that night! After all, last time his computer crashed, Steve was staying late, and they had winded up rolling around on his office floor. He should totally go to Steve's office. They could have a make out break, or at least he could work on that soft grey couch. His desk chair was starting to feel a little stiff.

He shut his laptop and quietly made his way down the hall to Steve's office, fingers crossed that he was there. He couldn't fight the grin off his face when he saw dim light pouring out from the open door.

But as he neared the office, he heard two soft voices and his stomach dropped. One of them was Steve; he'd know that commanding rumble anywhere. But the other, oh boy,

He peeked into the office, bracing himself for the worst.

Steve sat at his desk, fingers on his computer keyboard, tie loosened and suit jacket off. The more disturbing part of the image, however, was Sharon leaned over Steve's shoulder, chest pressed into the muscle, long blond hair falling over Steve's neck. Her hands pressed into his biceps, and she was murmuring into his ear.

Bucky couldn't think, couldn't process what was going on. He could barely breathe, but he could feel the rage stirring in his stomach. He was sure that if Steve looked up, the betrayal would be clear on Bucky's face.

But Steve stayed staring down at his computer, a little smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Sharon was saying. He tilted his head slightly, towards Sharon's face, and Bucky thought he was going to die. That's Steve, his Steve, and Sharon's hands were moving to stroke his golden hair. The same golden hair that Bucky had played with for an hour the night before. How was this happening?

He quickly came to his senses, rushing back down the hall, away from Steve and Sharon and everything that he couldn't understand. He fought against the lump in his throat, blinking roughly as he tried to straighten out his thoughts. Neither of them had seen him, thank God, but now what does he do?

Well, he can't finish this work today, that's one thing for sure. He shut his laptop and stuffed it into his bag. He'd do the work tomorrow. Who cares, anyways? It doesn't matter. Nothing really matters but this, right now.

Things had been going so well with Steve. Bucky couldn't remember ever being happier in a relationship, and it was partially because he felt so safe and secure. He could really trust Steve, he had thought. He had told Steve about Pierce, for Christ's sake! And what was it that Steve said in response? He said that he would never cheat on Bucky. He said he'd never hurt him.

So, he had lied twice, and now he was doing God-knows-what with Sharon in his office, and was this a regular thing for him? Was Bucky just another fling? Maybe he had a thing for screwing his subordinates. Bucky was fuming by the time he made it outside.

But on the walk home, the fresh air slowed him down. His anger cooled, and he began to contemplate what he wanted to do. The one thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to lose Steve. The past two months had changed Bucky's life. They had changed his outlook on love and relationships. Was it all a lie?

Steve wasn't his boyfriend, after all. Maybe they had just miscommunicated on the boundaries of their relationship. Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding. Maybe they could make this work.

Maybe Bucky didn't have to lose him.

He made it home before seven, conflicted, drained, and ready for a good four scoops of ice cream.

***

Bucky was just beginning to doze off, sitting on his sofa in front of the television, when there was a knock on his door.

He frowned, turning to look at the door suspiciously. Who would be coming to his apartment at eight o'clock on a Wednesday night?

He was just about to get up when a voice called, "Buck? You home?"

Bucky faltered. "Um, yeah," he said, after a moment. "One second."

He unlatched the door, revealing Steve standing in his doorway, still dressed in his work clothes. He looked tired, but he had a happy grin on his face, and half of Bucky wanted to slam the door in his face, but the other half wanted to take him inside and give him a hug. Instead of either option, he wound up staring at Steve for a little longer than normal.

"Hi," Steve finally said, laughing a little.

"Hi."

Steve smiled at him, amused. "Can I come in?"

"It's kind of late," Bucky frowned. Steve's smile faded quickly, so Bucky quickly added, "I thought you were busy tonight."

"I was, I just finished. I thought I'd come over and hang out a little," he said, sounding increasingly unsure of himself. He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. "Sorry, I really should have texted. It was sort of an impulse decision."

"Oh." Bucky looked at the ground.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "Because you said you weren't busy, so I just figured..." he trailed off, and Bucky could feel his eyes scanning him. He reached out, putting a finger under Bucky's chin and gently tipping his face up to look at Steve. "Hey, you okay?"

This was it. This was the moment that he tells Steve that he walked in on him and Sharon, all cozied up in his office. He's gonna tell Steve just how angry he is, how betrayed he feels. He's gonna do it.

But when he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was a strained, "I'm fine."

Steve looked at him, not quite believing. His finger was still on Bucky's chin. "Are you sure?"

Bucky took the hand away from his face and held it reassuringly. He leaned forward on his tiptoes, giving Steve a chaste kiss. "I'm sure. I'm glad you're here, sorry. Come in."

Steve seemed relieved, wrapping an arm around Bucky's waist as he entered the apartment. He nuzzles his nose into Bucky's cheek, and Bucky laughs a little. "Let's watch some tv," Bucky said into his disheveled golden hair. Sharon had her hands in that hair a few hours ago. He tried not to think about that. "And we can get you out of these work clothes." He started to unbutton Steve's shirt, and Steve watched his fingers work with a little smirk on his face.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt?" Steve bit his lip, and Bucky felt warm all over.

"Mhm," Bucky said, pressing his mouth to Steve's jaw as he continued undoing his shirt buttons.

"They're in the bedroom, right?" Steve whispered, suggestively.

Bucky tried to push the shirt over Steve's broad shoulders, while Steve walked him towards the bedroom door. He stumbled a little, walking backwards, but Steve kept a solid arm wrapped around his waist.

"We can watch tv later, I guess," Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck.

"Fine by me," Steve grinned, hands slipping under the waistband of Bucky's sweatpants, teasing. Bucky groaned, meeting Steve's mouth in a searing kiss.

Steve swung the bedroom door shut behind them, in case Clint should come home. And then his hands were everywhere, and Bucky was responsive and sensitive as a live wire.

He wouldn't think any more today; he could save that for tomorrow.

***

Light from the rising sun shone through the open window, brightening the bedroom.

They had forgotten to close the blinds the night before, in the heat of the moment, and now Bucky squinted uncomfortably and rubbed his eyes as he looked around the room. Steve was gone, the sheets next to him rumpled and still warm. He sighed, burying his face in the pillow. What was he doing? He should have talked things out with Steve last night, not slept with him. He really had no willpower around that man; how were they ever going to have a productive conversation about what Bucky walked in on at the office?

And maybe Bucky was overreacting by feeling so twisted inside about this. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Steve thought that since they weren't together, they were both open to see whoever they wanted to. But Bucky didn't want that, not at all, and he hadn't thought that Steve wanted anyone but him, either.

The hurt hardened in his gut as he forced himself out of bed and pulled fresh clothes on.

He could hear low voices echoing from the kitchen, and Bucky tried not to give away the resentment in his eyes as he stepped out of his room. Clint and Steve were leaning on the kitchen island, laughing lightly and eating buttered toast. Bucky quietly approached them, eyes fixed on the floor in front of his feet. Clint's smile faded when he saw Bucky, while Steve turned to grin wider at him.

"Good morning, Buck." Steve was by his side in an instant, arm around his waist, lips pressed to his temple. Bucky was too flustered to do anything but stand there, and eventually melt a little into the touch.

"Morning," he said, looking distractedly at a plate of bacon on the counter next to the stove. "Is that up for grabs?" he asked, pointing at it.

"All yours," Steve said, releasing him from his half-hug.

Clint was eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay, what's going on?"

"What?" Bucky asked innocently, ignoring Clint's disbelieving look. But then his face started heating up, into what was probably a flaming red blush, and he knew that Clint knew him far too well to believe it was nothing.

"Something's obviously wrong," Clint frowned, concerned. "What is it?"

"There's nothing wrong." Bucky stared him down, glaring at him for putting him on the spot in front of Steve.

Meanwhile, Steve had that lost crinkle in his brow, looking between the two men, clearly very confused. "Am I missing something?"

"No," Bucky said quickly, turning to him.

"I've known you for, like, six years," Clint went on. "I know when something's up."

"Bucky? Is there something wrong?" Steve turned his wide blue eyes on Bucky, who was helpless under that gaze. Bucky shook his head, looking to the side. Steve stepped in close, hand coming up to cup Bucky's face, encouraging his gaze back to Steve. "What's up? Is it me, did I do something?"

Bucky hesitated for just a moment too long. Clint caught it, but he didn't think Steve did. "No, not at all. I just feel a little off, for some reason."

Steve didn't drop his hand. "You seemed off last night, too," he said softly, stroking his thumb over Bucky's cheekbone. "I can spend the day, we can hang out in bed. I can blow off work," he smiled, and it made Bucky's heart do a little flip. Normally, he'd be swooning right about now. But instead, it just hardened the hurt in his gut, making him tense against Steve's gentle touch.

Clint was bent over the coffee machine, purposefully not watching their intimate moment.

Bucky stepped back, as casually as he could. "No, you get your work done. I'll see you Monday, I think I just need to clear my head for a little while."

Now, Steve looked really thrown off. "Oh," he said, nodding hesitantly. He edged uncomfortably towards the door. "Okay. See you Monday. Call me if you need me."

Bucky knew that he wouldn't. "Will do," he said, forcing a smile onto his face.

Steve closed the door gently behind him, and as soon as his footsteps disappeared down the hall, Clint pounced on him.

"What's going on?" he said, clearly taking no bullshit this time.

"Why would you ask me that in front of Steve?" Bucky shot back. "What if he was what's wrong?"

"I didn't think he could be the problem! And I thought you two were super open with each other!"

"What made you think that?"

"You told him about Pierce!"

"Yeah, that was a big mistake," Bucky grumbled, snatching a piece of bacon off the plate and biting into it.

Clint faltered, watching Bucky cautiously. "What do you mean?"

Bucky shrugged, playing it off as not a big deal, even though he could feel the tangible ache in his chest. "Shouldn't have told him about Pierce, 'cause then he said he'd never cheat on me."

Clint stayed silent, waiting for Bucky to fill in the blank he must have sensed was coming.

"And I think he cheated on me," he said, voice small. His lip wobbled a bit, but he was not going to cry over some man that wasn't even his boyfriend. That was the whole point of not being boyfriends, so that Bucky wouldn't be put in situations where he'd wind up crying over Steve. So he held his head high, staring Clint in the face.

Clint's face fell, and he walked over to envelope Bucky in his arms. "Oh, Bucky. I'm sorry."

And all of a sudden, Bucky felt the impulse to defend Steve. "It isn't his fault, though. We aren't boyfriends. He can do what he wants."

"But it was sort of agreed upon that you weren't seeing other people."

Bucky stayed frozen for a while, before nodding against Clint's shoulder, face pressed into his light grey sweatshirt.

"Are you sure he was cheating?" Clint asked, after a moment.

"It looked like it was about to happen, and he wasn't stopping anything. So, yeah. I'm, like, ninety percent sure." Bucky finished the piece of bacon that was still in his hand, talking through a mouthful.

"I think you should talk to him about this." Clint said. He leaned back, looking Bucky in the eyes. He was rarely this serious, and Bucky couldn't help but listen to him.

He smiled weakly. "Soon, maybe later. I just don't want to deal with this right now."

"I get it," Clint squeezed his shoulder, before letting him go. "Love you, man."

"Love you too. Thanks, Clint." With that, Bucky retreated to his room to spend the rest of his weekend in a mindless Netflix tunnel.

He would deal with Steve at work next week.

***

The wind was cold on Bucky's cheeks as he stumbled through the revolving door and out into the street on Monday afternoon. He turned up the collar of his jacket against the wind and began the walk home, his breath coming in misty clouds. The day had been quick and uneventful; Bucky kept his nose in his work, and managed to leave a little early, before it got any colder outside.

A warm arm wrapped around his side, rubbing his arm through his thick jacket. "Can I walk you home?" Steve asked, pecking him lightly on the cheek.

Bucky tucked himself deeper into Steve's warm embrace, but kept staring straight ahead at the busy sidewalk. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Always have work to do," Steve shrugged, giving him a hopeful smile. "Come on, please? I'll make hot chocolate."

Bucky stopped walking and turned to Steve, trying to hide his guilt. He shouldn't be distant with Steve. He should either talk it out, or move on. This wasn't fair, making Steve walk on eggshells, and have to plead Bucky to spend time with him. He leaned onto his tiptoes, pressing a warm kiss to Steve's mouth. Steve hummed happily into the kiss.

"Can't say no to hot chocolate."

Steve grinned wider at him, before taking Bucky's arm and leading the way to Bucky's apartment.

***

"Barnes!"

Bucky was sitting cross-legged on his sofa, Steve next to him. They weren't touching much, but Steve's warm hand rested comfortably on his knee. Clint, meanwhile, bustled around them, grabbing his phone, keys, and jacket from where they were strewn around the living room.

"What?" Bucky sighed, watching Clint's continued chaos.

"You're sitting on my wallet."

"I don't think..." he said, brushing a cursory hand under him. His hand landed on Clint's beat-up, leather wallet. "Oh."

Bucky tossed the wallet at him. Clint caught it on his way to the door, winking back at Steve and Bucky. "I'll be back late. Do everything I would do." And with that, he was out the door, leaving the two men sitting awkwardly next to each other, neither making a move or saying a word. Bucky was torn between burrowing into Steve's side, snuggling up and getting comfortable, or getting away from Steve entirely, and voicing everything that's been bothering him. Before he could make the decision, though, Steve made it for him.

"Can we talk about something?" Steve seemed confident and casual, but Bucky knew him well enough now to see the nerves simmering under the surface. Steve squeezed his knee, before taking Bucky's hand out of his lap, entwining their fingers together.

Bucky tried to deflect. "I thought I was promised hot chocolate."

"This is more important, actually," Steve said, running his thumb over the back of Bucky's hand.

"Didn't peg you for someone who breaks his promises," Bucky said, taking his hand back and running it through his hair. His hair fell just below his jawline now, and he could pull it back into a small, messy bun. He did that now, and he felt Steve watching him, confused.

"Are you..." Steve continued to study him. "Is something wrong?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you mad at me? That's what I was going to say," Steve said, frowning at him. "Did I do something? You've been sort of... distant."

Bucky sighed. "Honestly, I'm just tired. Can you say what you wanted to say so I can go make some hot chocolate? I think the sugar rush might help."

Steve didn't seem fully convinced, but he let himself be swayed. "Okay. Okay," he said, collecting himself. "We've talked about this before, but I feel like things are different now and you know how I feel but I was thinking about it and I'm hoping that maybe you feel differently than before-"

"Shorter sentences, Steve," Bucky laughed a little, despite himself, and Steve grinned back, brightening at the encouragement.

But then Steve blurted out: "Can we be together? For real?" and Bucky was stopped in his tracks. Steve looked so hopeful. Bucky was worried he might start laughing hysterically. He suppressed it, though, and looked down at his hands.

"Steve-"

Steve cut him off, desperate. "You don't have to answer right now, don't answer right now. Think about it. But really actually think about it, because I can't see a single reason why not. We're basically together right now, there's just no label. Can we have the label? Please, Bucky?"

Bucky finally looked up at him, icy blue eyes guarded. "We're basically together right now?"

Steve faltered. "I mean, yeah. We spend so much time together...." he trailed off, losing steam.

Bucky stood up, and Steve's face fell. He didn't really know what he was doing, but he knew it was now or never. His palms were a little sweaty, and he wiped them roughly on his pants. Steve was still staring up at him; to avoid his gaze, Bucky walked over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Steve watched him over the back of the couch, and although Bucky didn't look at him, he could sense his confusion and hurt.

"Is that a no?" Steve asked, his voice a little unsteady.

Bucky placed the filled glass on the counter, staring down at the granite distorted behind the water. "Are you sleeping with Sharon?"

The silence in the apartment was deafening; Bucky felt it in his chest. He couldn't look up and see those dark blue eyes. He was worried that they'd whisper, yes.

And then Steve was shooting up from the couch, shocked. "What? Bucky, what?"

Bucky gripped the edge of the counter. "You can just say yes, Steve. I won't be mad."

"You - why would you say that?" With a few quick strides, he was in the kitchen, across from Bucky. He stared him down, but Bucky was having trouble meeting his eyes.

"Can you just give me a yes or no?"

"Bucky, no! Of course I'm not, I thought I made it clear I only want you!" Steve ran a hand through his perfect golden hair, making it a frantic mess. He stumbled over his words. "But - but - you have to explain why you would even ask me that!"

Bucky shrugged, disbelieving. "I just had a feeling."

"You don't believe me." Steve's eyes were harsh.

"No, I don't believe you, Steve!" Bucky was done being calm and collected. He pointed his finger at Steve's broad chest, glaring. "I stayed late at the office last week," he spat, "and I went to see if you were there, and you were with Sharon, alright?"

Steve's eyes widened just a tiny bit, and Bucky knew he was right.

"Oh, god," Bucky said, turning away. "Why would you..." He had to stop speaking so he could focus on forcing the burning tears out of his eyes.

Steve reached up, and with surprisingly gentle hands, tilted Bucky's face towards him. "Bucky. I did not cheat on you."

Bucky let out a humorless snort, staring at a spot over Steve's shoulder. He rapidly blinked the tears away.

"I didn't, I swear. Sharon can be... forward, and I just don't know how to deal with it. It never escalates, I don't let it. But she's just a hands-on person."

"You don't have to encourage it!"

Steve sighed. "We were together for a long time, Buck. I'm just happy to be friends with her again, and I don't want to ruin it by telling her to back off. Nothing's happening, I promise."

Bucky stepped back, trying to organize his thoughts. The reassurance hadn't made him feel much better, but he didn't know what to do. He had been silent for a while, staring past Steve, when Steve finally added, quietly:

"It's not like we're even together, though."

Bucky could feel the spark in his eyes, bursting into the flame of anger. "Oh, so this is my fault? Because I won't commit to you?"

"I'm just saying," Steve backtracked, a little defensive, "that I'm not in a relationship, barely anyone at work knows about us, so there's really nothing wrong with letting her flirt with me."

"Letting her feel you up, you mean?" Bucky snapped at him, eyes burning once more. He was so, so mad. Steve was being ridiculous, and he was furious.

"Bucky-"

"Get out, Steve," Bucky cut him off. "Go home."

Steve didn't budge; instead, he stared at Bucky dead in the eyes. "I didn't cheat on you; I never would."

"I don't care. Get out."

"You have to believe me." Bucky had never seen Steve's expression like this before - was he going to cry? His ears were all red, and the tip of his nose was pink, too.

Bucky stepped forward, putting his hands on Steve's massive shoulders and pushing him towards the door. A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye, and he quickly wiped it with his sleeve. "Yeah, yeah, I know, you would never cheat on me, she's just a friend, I know how it goes. Get out."

"Bucky!" Steve stopped in his tracks, no longer letting himself be pushed. "Listen to me! It won't happen again, okay? It won't happen again."

"But we're not together, so why shouldn't it!" Bucky threw his own words back at him with a malice he hadn't shown to Steve before.

Steve stared at him, a little out of breath, hurt and pissed off. Bucky felt more tears leak out, and Steve's expression softened.

"I'm going to tell her there's someone else in my life now. Whether we're together or not, I don't want anyone else."

Bucky swallowed, looking down at his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Steve almost laughed, taking Bucky's hands in his. Bucky looked up into those deep, blue eyes. They were so sincere, he couldn't fight the small smile that was growing on his face.

"What if she doesn't like that?"

"Then she'll have to deal with it," Steve said, no hesitation, and it was exactly what Bucky needed to hear. "Buck, I like you so much, I would do anything," he stepped closer to Bucky, grabbing his waist a little roughly, "anything, to make you happy."

Bucky tilted his face up, pecking Steve lightly on the lips. "Anything?"

Steve leaned down to deepen the kiss. Bucky moaned into his mouth, and Steve said against his lips, "Anything."

"Like make me hot chocolate?" Bucky teased, nipping Steve's bottom lip.

"Mm," Steve hummed in agreement. "For sure. And maybe a little something else afterwards."

Bucky grinned widely, back to his normal self. The relief of their conversation soothed him, and he let himself forget Steve's earlier request of commitment. Right now, he just wanted to cuddle up to Steve as much as possible, and let himself be doted on like he hadn't in days.

Steve paused on his way to getting the mugs. "Is the Sharon thing why you were feeling off?"

He nodded a little, meeting Steve's concerned eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's beyond understandable," Steve took down two big mugs, while Bucky got the hot chocolate powder. "The first month we met, seeing you with that guy in the bar made me all jealous. I can only imagine how you feel now. I was being stupid and selfish and I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

Bucky smiled, wide and crooked. "You're already forgiven."

***

January turned into February, and Bucky was back to pretending that he and Steve were on the same page in their relationship. Objectively, they were happy together. They were spending more and more nights together, curled up on a couch or chatting lazily in bed. Bucky loved looking next to him in the dark room, after Steve's breathing had steadied, and seeing his peaceful, beautiful face lying on the pillow next to his.

Still, he knew that Steve wanted more from their relationship. Bucky wasn't blind to that, but he was actively ignoring it. He knew he really didn't want a boyfriend, and no matter how wonderful Steve was, he didn't plan on changing his mind. No matter if, deep down, he craved that extra level of commitment as well. Because he had made a commitment to being independent, and he was going to stick to that. Depending on someone else had only ever ended badly for him, and keeping Steve at an arm's distance prevented that from happening again.

Steve didn't bring it up again, and Bucky was grateful; he seemed to get the message. So they kept their relationship in their little private bubble, consisting of late nights and weekends spent together, seductive glances across the office, knowing smiles across the bar on Friday nights, and no labels.

Sometimes, though, Bucky would catch glimpses of unhappiness when Steve thought he wasn't looking. Steve's brow would furrow and he would pick at his nails, clearly upset and thinking about something. But whenever he'd see Bucky watching him, he'd perk right up. Bucky never asked him what was wrong, and he didn't offer the information. But they both knew what it was. And Bucky wasn't a monster; he did feel bad about ignoring Steve's pleas for a committed relationship. After all, Steve wasn't asking for much. But wasn't he, though?

On the first Friday of February, Bucky rushed into work five minutes late. He had slept through his alarm; Clint had shaken him awake ten minutes before he was supposed to be out the door. His hair was disheveled, his tie an ugly knot, and his shirt untucked. When he bustled past reception, he barely glanced over at where Steve was leaned over Sharon's reception desk, laughing and chatting away.

"Hey, Bucky, you okay?" Sharon asked, looking at him over Steve's shoulder. Steve whipped around and stood up straight, looking a little caught. He stepped away from the desk, moving towards Bucky. He looked like he wanted to speak, but Bucky avoided his eyes.

"I'm fine," Bucky said, a little out of breath. He glanced up at Steve, mumbled "Sorry I'm late," and quickly headed to his office.

"Bucky," Steve called after him, and he turned around, forcing a smile onto his face. Steve was still his boss; he had to maintain some semblance of professionalism. Steve hesitated, like he hadn't expected Bucky to listen to him. "Can I see you for a few minutes in my office?"

Bucky scratched behind his ear, uncomfortable. "I'm super behind, can we talk later?" Bucky asked, politely, and after a pause, Steve nodded. Bucky went into his office where Natasha was eyeing him suspiciously, and Steve retreated down the hall.

"What's going on there?" she asked him, and he groaned, flopping down into his chair.

"Nothing. It's my own fault," he sighed, and Natasha gave him a prompting look. "Well, I asked him to stop flirting with his ex-girlfriend, and he still sort of is, but they're not even really flirting anymore, they're just being friends I think. I'm being unfair."

She waited patiently for him to finish. "I didn't peg you for the jealous type."

"I'm not jealous, I'm just..." he trailed off, in search of the right word.

"Insecure?"

"Right. Maybe. I guess."

"Still, he shouldn't be flirting."

"I don't even think he was."

Natasha reached out, putting her hand on his knee to reassure him. "James. What's going on? I thought you guys were doing well?"

Natasha's dark green eyes stared up at him, concerned, and he let himself unravel. "We're not technically together yet. Because I don't want to be... official? I just don't. But Steve really does, and we've hit this sort of unspoken roadblock, and it seems like I have two options at this point: give in or give up."

"Give up on the relationship?"

"Yeah. And it's bugging me so much, because we can't compromise on this, and I know he wants more. I know he's not happy."

"No, James, I do think he's happy with you. I've seen it," Natasha said, consoling him.

"Not happy enough. Anyways, I don't know what to do."

"Commit," she suggested.

"I can't do that."

"Then break up with him," she winced.

"I - are you sure?" Bucky felt like they were narrowing on a conclusion, and it made him feel unsettled and nervous.

"I don't know, this isn't my relationship!" Natasha smiled a little, a weak attempt at lightening the mood.

"I think I should. I mean, I don't want to go on feeling all torn up like this, right?"

"Right..." Natasha agreed reluctantly. "But, James, you're sure you're not just afraid of the commitment?"

Bucky shot her a tired look. "Nat, I can't have this conversation again."

"Okay, okay," she said, patting his knee. "Whatever you feel is best. I just want you happy, and... unconflicted."

So Bucky made his decision. It wasn't fair of him to prevent Steve from being friends with Sharon; just because he was insecure in their relationship didn't mean that Steve deserved to be controlled. He couldn't help but feel like he was right, though, in asking Steve to stop flirting with her. And if Steve was going to use their lack of labels as an excuse for doing that kind of thing, then Bucky couldn't stay, right? This was a mess, and it wasn't fair to either of them.

Natasha asked him if he was going to meet everyone at the bar that night. He didn't think Steve would show up, and he really needed a few drinks, so he said yes.

He didn't go to Steve's office all day, and Steve didn't remind him to.

***

The bar was pretty packed that Friday, but Steve wasn't there, so Bucky could put off their dreaded conversation for a little while longer. He didn't know when things had gotten so messed up between them, because sometimes it felt like it was all in Bucky's head. But he knew that the next time he saw Steve, he was going to have to air all his grievances. He did not want to go on like this, all confused and insecure in his not-relationship.

Jane and Darcy were chatting by a tall table near the wall, and Bucky lingered by them for a while. After two beers, he excused himself to go to the washroom, and when he came out, someone had joined the women. Of course, it was none other than Steve Rogers.

He was dressed in his work clothes, but his suit jacket and tie were off, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. He looked really, really good. If Bucky were feeling normal, he would drag Steve into the bathroom and climb him like a tree. Instead, he bit his lip, uncomfortable, and hesitated a few meters away.

Steve met his eye and smiled, a little uncertain. Bucky smiled back, and Steve left Jane and Darcy to meet Bucky by the bar.

Steve reached out to take his hand, and before Bucky could open his mouth, Steve said, "Can we talk?"

Bucky nodded, laced his fingers together with Steve's, and pulled him towards the exit of the bar. When they were out in the cold, night air, Bucky felt immediately sobered. They walked for a moment in silence, before stopping by a small bench to sit down. Bucky released his hand, but Steve shifted closer so their arms were pressed up against each other.

"I'm sorry about Sharon," Steve said. He was so sincere, and his blue eyes so apologetic, that Bucky was taken aback.

"Oh, no, Steve, it's fine. You can be friends with her, it's okay."

Steve didn't seem to believe him. "Then, what's wrong?"

Bucky sighed. It was time. "Steve, I don't want to commit to this."

"Bucky," Steve said, but didn't continue. He didn't seem to know what to say.

He went on. "I know you do but I don't. And I think we should talk about it."

Steve shifted so that he was no longer touching Bucky, but tilted to face him. Bucky watched his hands, but could feel Steve staring into his face.

Bucky took a breath. "I just, I like it casual."

Steve finally broke, snapped. "This is not casual! I mean, come on, Buck," he ran a rough hand through his hair. "You can't just call this casual and expect it to just be that. This is not casual, this is basically a serious relationship! Why can't you get that?"

Bucky had flinched at the harsh words, and was now guarded, eyes cold. "Well, I don't want a serious relationship."

Steve threw his hands in the air, angry and defeated. "So, then what? Neither of us can be happy at the same time?" He shook his head, leaning back against the bench. "We want different things."

Bucky glanced up at his tired face. It was quiet for a long moment, both of them looking away from each other. Bucky steeled his nerves and clenched his fists, hoping Steve wouldn't notice how nervous he was. "So, are you saying we should break up?"

Steve looked like he'd been slapped. He stared at Bucky, blue eyes bright and face flushed. "No!" Steve was clearly hurt and a little desperate. "Buck, I didn't say that!" He paused, looking intently at Bucky. His eyes shone. Bucky was worried that he was about to cry. "Do you... do you want that?"

"No," Bucky shook his head, grabbing Steve's hand. "I don't want that - but it seems like our only option."

There was a moment of silence. They were both rigid on the bench. The rest of the street had melted away; it was just the two of them in the world.

Steve blinked. "So, you're breaking up with me."

Bucky let out a heavy breath, leaning back, dropping Steve's hand. He looked away from him, mumbling, "Well, we technically aren't together, so..."

Steve shot up from the bench, suddenly furious. "Oh, fuck you, Bucky! Technically? Really?" He glared down at him. "Grow a pair! Quit being so scared of this. It's ridiculous."

Bucky stood up slowly, hands shaking a little. His gaze was icy and his voice shook. "No, fuck you, Steve. Fuck you for that," he spat, tears springing to his eyes. He wiped them away, frustrated, and averted his gaze from Steve, who looked like he knew he'd gone too far. "I'm not scared," he forced out. "I'm done."

Steve froze. "You're done?"

"Yeah, we're over. I don't want to argue any more." He was terrified and relieved at the same time, and was having trouble meeting Steve's eyes. Steve looked so vulnerable and wounded, and Bucky didn't want to see him cry. His own vision was blurring with the tears.

Steve reached out, but Bucky stepped back. "No, no, Bucky," he said, desperate. "We don't have to actually break up, come on. Please. Neither of us want that."

"Don't tell me what I want. We want different things." He knew he was being cold, and he hated himself for it. But he had to leave. He turned away and began walking back towards the bar.

Steve chased after him. "Bucky, stop. Don't do this," he begged. Bucky didn't slow, so Steve grabbed his arm. "I know you're gonna regret it."

Bucky wrenched his arm away, and wiped his tears with his sleeve. When Steve saw his expression, his face fell. Bucky stared through him. "And why would I regret it?"

Steve stopped walking; they were facing each other. He was looking at Bucky, almost pitying. "Because I think deep down you want this as much as I do."

Bucky turned his face away, looking out onto the street. "Oh, shut up," he muttered. "You don't know what I want."

Steve let out a quiet, sad sigh. In two quick steps, he was pressed close to Bucky, close enough to overpower him. He gently took Bucky's chin between his fingers, and Bucky was forced to meet his pleading, fond eyes. They were both a little teary, but Steve was holding himself together quite well, determined to convince Bucky.

"Bucky," he spoke softly. "I love you."

It was silent for a long moment.

It was as if Steve had pushed Bucky off a cliff, and now he was falling and falling and couldn't catch his breath to say a word. He was frozen, panicked. Steve held his gaze, strong and solid. "Why would you say that?" Bucky whispered, eyes flickering around Steve's face, scanning to see if he was lying.

He had to be lying. He wanted Bucky to stay, he wanted to win the argument, and so now he was obviously lying to him as well. Bucky blinked away his tears.

The tip of Steve's nose was pink. He didn't break his gaze with Bucky. "I love you, and I think you might love me a little, too."

Bucky hiccupped a little, and Steve caressed his cheekbone, soothingly. He leaned down, meeting Bucky's lips in a teary, firm kiss. They breathed into each other for a dizzying moment, before breaking apart. Steve held the back of Bucky's neck, pressing their foreheads together. Bucky let himself unravel, crying openly now. Steve kissed him once more, a soft brush of tear-stained lips. He whispered, "please," into his open mouth.

"Sorry," Bucky gasped. "I - I can't."

Steve made a pained noise. His eyes shut, blocking Bucky out. His hand stayed on Bucky's neck, though, so Bucky stepped back until it fell off. When they broke apart, Bucky physically felt the pain in his chest. This time, Steve didn't beg him to stay. He was silent, eyes still closed.

Bucky turned and walked away.

***

Friday was going to be a long day.

As Natasha had just informed Bucky, Valentine's Day was definitely celebrated at the office. Any excuse for cheap decorations and themed candy was always seized, it appeared. So that left Bucky feeling awkward and a little nervous as he hurried to work in the thickly falling snow on Friday morning. The irritating focus on 'love' was not something Bucky was in the mood for.

Still, he smiled politely at Sharon as he entered the office. She had a big bouquet of roses on her desk, and looked at him around it. "Hi, Bucky."

"Hey, Sharon. Nice flowers."

"Oh, thanks." Before she could say anything else, Natasha appeared and grabbed Bucky's arm.

"Sorry to interrupt, I'm gonna borrow this guy," she said to Sharon, pulling Bucky into their office. Once the door was closed behind them, she turned to Bucky. "The flowers aren't from Steve, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," he lied. "Who are they from, do you know?"

Natasha laughed. "I think she bought them for herself." They both settled into their chairs, setting up their work for the day. "Steve's not here yet, anyway."

"Yeah? Why not?" Bucky tried to ask the question casually, like he didn't care. The reality was, he was desperate for any news of Steve. Where he was, what he was doing, all of it mattered to Bucky, who had not heard from him in a week. Steve had been away on business for half of it, but the other half was spent expertly dodging Bucky. Either that or he wasn't affected, and they just missed paths, and Bucky was making it much more in his head. That was more likely, actually.

"He's coming in late today. I think he has meetings all morning." Natasha clicked around on her computer, talking to Bucky over her shoulder. "How are you doing on that front?"

"Great," he sighed.

"Seriously, James."

"Not good, then." Natasha was easy to open up to, but Bucky didn't want to go into all this right now. He opened his email and got to work.

After a few moments, Natasha spoke again. "I'm sure he would forgive you."

Bucky turned to look at her. She shrugged. He ran a hand through his hair, which was aalmost getting long enough to tie back. "I don't - I don't want to go back to how things were. I just miss him. It's only been a week. I'll be fine soon."

He didn't know if he fully believed that, or if she did either.

They went out together during their lunch break. Bucky was shivering by the time they reached the office again, and Natasha was blowing hot air onto her frozen fingers. He held the door for her, and they both sighed happily at the heated lobby of the building.

Another gust of cold air swooshed in behind them. The footsteps with it halted for a second, before walking briskly past. It was Steve.

Bucky stood frozen for a moment, taking in Steve's retreating figure. His coat was long and woolen, draped over his broad shoulders and tapering at the waist. His hair was a little longer, curling at the ears. He didn't look back.

Before Bucky could properly feel the pain of seeing him again for the first time, Natasha was calling out, "Steve, hey!"

Steve stopped and turned. He had clearly seen them and walked by, and Bucky was worried that Steve would be angry or harsh to him now that they were being forced to converse. But Steve kept his eyes solely on Natasha, and he looked... normal. Not bent out of shape at all. Maybe Bucky really was the only one affected by their breakup. If it could even be called a breakup.

"Hi. Did you have a good lunch?"

"Yeah. It's freezing, though. James was shaking like a leaf the whole time."

Steve smiled politely. He still didn't look at Bucky, although Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off Steve's face. He was just as beautiful, if not more so, and Bucky didn't know what he was supposed to do.

It was silent, so Natasha piped up again. "Are you going to the bar tonight?"

"No, I was going to stay in, do some work."

"Work can wait till the weekend. You should definitely come."

"I don't think so," Steve said, apologetic and awkward.

Natasha pushed on, turning to Bucky. "He should come. It's more fun when he's there, right, James?"

Bucky looked nervously at Steve's deep blue eyes, which were still trained on Natasha. "Um, yeah. You should come."

Steve turned to him, and oh no, he was totally unprepared for this. He had thought Steve was unaffected, but looking into his eyes told a different story. He knew Steve well enough now to see the hurt, the anger. But mostly, he just seemed sad. "Really?"

Bucky thought he was going to swallow his tongue. "Yeah."

Steve nodded, pensive. "Okay. Maybe." There was a charged moment of eye contact between Steve and Bucky; neither said a word. Then, Steve turned and walked towards the elevators, leaving Bucky without a proper answer and an ache in his heart.

***

Bucky wrapped his fingers around the cold glass in front of him. He was just drinking water tonight; it would be risky business to drink alcohol around Steve, especially at such a vulnerable time. Then again, Steve probably wasn't even going to show up. He had seemed so reluctant before, and Bucky knew better than to expect him to show up. He must hate Bucky by now; there was no way he would come at Bucky's request. Bucky didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved by that.

He stared down at the hands in front of him. They were pale and cold, and he rubbed them together, hoping to warm them up. If only someone would come and hold them. If only Steve were by his side, to help him.

No. That was the exact thought process Bucky was trying to stay away from.

But he felt so dull without Steve, more so than he'd felt before he met him. What was there to be excited about, if Steve wasn't in his life anymore? Even his job, which he'd loved so much, felt weighed down by the knowledge that Steve was sitting right down the hall, probably fuming at Bucky. Or worse, not caring at all.

He took a sip from his glass, the cold water biting the back of his throat. He should probably return to his friends; Natasha, Jane, and Darcy were chatting by the wall, and would probably question him if he were gone for too long. Bucky just didn’t want to be the wet blanket on their conversation, though. The thought of pulling himself together and pasting on a smile seemed exhausting. Maybe he should just go home.

And then the door opened, revealing one Steve Rogers.

Bucky quickly looked back at his glass, away from the door. He didn't even take enough time to see the man's face; was he nervous? Or was he already bored? Bucky didn't want to risk checking and getting caught.

Steve was headed to the bar. Bucky could sense it. In his peripheral vision, a broad man with golden hair sat on a stool a few spaces down. Steve, for sure. Why didn't he sit closer? Did he want to talk, or did he want to pretend they didn’t know each other?

Before Bucky could sneak a glance to judge his boss's expression, another man slid in between them. His hair was messy, sticking out in endearing curls, and his grin was wide as he looked Bucky up and down. Bucky tensed up; what was he supposed to do? On any normal night, they would be half on their way to Bucky's apartment by now. This guy was gorgeous. But, this was not a normal night. Steve was sitting a few feet away, and Bucky was missing him so hard it made forming sentences difficult.

"Uh, hi," Bucky said. It was awkward, but he didn't want to say anything else. The man was blocking Steve from view, but Steve could definitely hear him.

"Hi yourself. Can I buy you a drink?" The man winked. On any other night, Bucky thought. Look at this guy! But, it wasn't happening. Not with Steve right there.

"I'm sorry, not drinking tonight." Bucky smiled apologetically.

"How about a water?"

"I'm good. You're nice, but I'm good."

The guy laughed at Bucky's uncomfortable wording. He nodded politely, turning to go.

"Maybe some other time," he said over his shoulder.

"Yeah, maybe." Bucky could feel himself blushing, and then the man was gone.

With no barrier left, it was easy to see that Steve was staring directly at him. He looked a little puzzled, but mostly just sad. Bucky gripped the bar, biting his lip. Steve was right there - it would be so easy to slide down and hold him. He stared at the polished bar, looking at the swirls and ridges in the wood.

"You didn't have to do that." Steve's voice was husky, and Bucky shivered. He hadn't been the sole focus of Steve's attention in a long time, and he forgot how it made his stomach flip.

"It wasn't because of you," Bucky said, still staring down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve scoot down two stools. There was now only one between them.

Steve paused, weighing his words. "Still, you had to have known how that would make me feel. So, thank you."

"Really, don't thank me." Bucky didn't know why he was being so cold; he couldn't help it. He didn't know how else to act around Steve. This was his safest bet.

Steve, after having his efforts at conversation shot down twice, fell silent. He kept his eyes on Bucky though, almost challenging him to look up. Why was this so hard? It was hell to be so physically close but so emotionally broken up. Bucky knew this was for their own good - they both wanted different things from each other - but that didn't make it any easier. Not when Steve was sitting right there, so open and so strong.

The charged pause between them stretched out way past comfort, so Bucky sighed and pushed his stool back.

"I think I'm going to head out."

Steve quickly got up as well, holding his hands out to stop Bucky, but not coming close enough to touch. "No, hang on," he said, stepping in front of Bucky. He was always so tall, so sturdy. "I came here for you. You're just going to leave?"

Bucky blinked at him. "You came here for me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why?" Steve shook his head in disbelief. "God, Bucky, you know why. Can we just talk for a bit?"

A hint of anger was showing under Steve's controlled expression. He clearly didn't want to scare Bucky off, but he wasn't happy with him either. Bucky could understand why. He didn't deserve this man's kindness or forgiveness anymore. And he knew this so deep in himself, that it was easy for him to say, "there's nothing to talk about," and sidestep Steve on his way to the exit.

"Bucky!" Steve called after him, and he couldn't help but turn. "Please." Steve closed the distance between them, so nobody else could hear his whispered words. "I've been waiting for you. All week, I've been waiting for you to call me and tell me you'd changed your mind. And you haven't, and I'm tired, and I can't wait much longer."

Bucky shut his eyes, willing the tears away. Love was so hard. This man in front of him was beautiful, and everything, and Bucky's chest felt tight and clunky.

He opened his eyes slowly, looking at Steve's collar. It was blue. The top button was unbuttoned. Bucky had unbuttoned that shirt before. He swallowed, buying time. "Then don't wait," he finally mumbled, and Steve inhaled sharply, in evident pain.

Bucky looked up to see him blinking rapidly, nodding his head and looking away. "Mhm. Okay. My bad." This did not seem to be what Steve expected, coming here tonight. And, oh god, didn't Bucky make it seem like he wanted him here? Only to reject him again? This was a new low. Bucky reached out to hold Steve's arm, without thinking, but Steve stepped away.

Bucky watched as he took a deep breath, collected himself, and nodded one last time. "Well, at least we're on the same page now. I'll see you Monday."

Steve gave a forced smile, not meeting his eyes, and then hurried out of the bar, into the night.

***

The flurries and sharp air of February melt into a chilly but unseasonably warm March, and Bucky struggles more than he thought he would.

The first week after their chat in the bar, Steve shoots him a polite smile on the rare occasion that they bump into each other, leaving the building or at reception. Steve doesn't come into his office, not a word is shared between them, and Bucky makes sure to use the elevator only when Steve is in a meeting or out of the building. Standing alone with Steve in an elevator is out of the question, and would be far too much for him, especially given how they met. His subconscious might just take over, and he'd find himself wrapped around Steve, apologizing and begging to be taken back.

But that was not what he wanted. So, he kept his smiles forced and his posture guarded.

By the second week, Steve stopped looking him in the eye at all.

And by the third week after their talk at the bar, and the middle of March, Steve was actively ignoring Bucky. Not in a mean way, but in a deliberate way that hurt Bucky even more. Like he couldn't be bothered to talk to Bucky, like Bucky was far below Steve's pay grade, which he was. Was Steve only talking to him before because he wanted to sleep with him? No, that's ridiculous. He actually liked Bucky as a person, somehow. It was just that Bucky had not only screwed up their relationship, but with it their friendship went down the drain, too. And apparently their professional relationship as well.

That was made clear on a Tuesday morning just like every other Tuesday morning. Except on this Tuesday, Bucky was especially frustrated with himself. Not because he hadn't gotten enough sleep (which he hadn't), or was running late (which he was), but because he was still painfully missing Steve.

He was so sick of missing Steve. The only thing he was holding out hope for was that maybe Steve missed him too. Maybe he was just doing a really good job of hiding it.

And then he stepped into the office, that Tuesday morning, and reality slapped him clean across the cheek. He wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark.

Steve was crouched behind Sharon's desk, fiddling with her computer. The desk was angled in a way that nobody in the office could see him, except those entering. And since Bucky was almost ten minutes late that day, he was sure Steve didn't expect anyone entering.

Steve's hand was on Sharon's leg. His cheeks were flushed and he was laughing. Sharon sat in her seat behind him, running her toes down his side as he stayed fixated on the computer. He pressed a button on its side and it whirred to life, and Sharon put her small hands on Steve's broad shoulders. Bucky couldn't move.

"Thanks, Steve," Sharon said. She was so casual with him, and Bucky had seen them like this before, but today it hurt a surprising amount. Because Bucky used to be the person in the office Steve was closest to. Steve was the most casual with him, and would help him with his computer, and laugh and flirt with him.

And now he was just a guy, running late for work, standing in the entrance of their office, heart aching in his chest.

His cheeks were red: he could feel it. Bucky gripped his jacket tighter as Steve stood up, looking down at Sharon.

"No problem," he said. His back was to Bucky, and he blocked Sharon from view as well, so she couldn't greet him with her chipper 'good morning, Bucky!' that he hated so much.

Sharon stood up as well, running her fingers up his arm. She squeezed his bicep. Bucky was almost in shock; this is a workplace! They shouldn't be touching each other like that, or looking at each other like that! How was this allowed?

But then Bucky remembered that he and Steve had been like that just over a month ago. In fact, they had been even more intimate. Some of the conversations they'd had in Bucky's glass-walled office had been pure, unabashed flirting. So Sharon touched Steve's arm, so what? That's just casual, friendly touching, right?

Then why couldn't Bucky move? Why couldn't he stop staring?

Steve and Sharon were speaking to each other, too quietly to hear. Nobody else in the office was paying them any attention. Bucky wanted to shout to the absent-minded employees, "Look! Look at them! That's not appropriate! Make them stop!" But instead he stood there, ears red, eyes starting to burn. And under the hurt, there was anger. Anger and pure, unfiltered betrayal. He had no right, he knew, but he felt it nonetheless.

Sharon leaned in, brushed her lips to Steve's ear, and said something that made him chuckle. She then turned to walk to the break room. Steve watched her go, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Bucky's eyes were fixed on Steve's back.

Steve turned around, a smile still lingering on his lips.

It faded as soon as he met Bucky's eyes. A pained look came over his face, and he ran a hand through his golden hair, before throwing that hand in the air as if to say, "well, shit. Of course."

Bucky forced himself to hold Steve's gaze. He could feel tears welling in his eyes; he just felt so stupid. It had been over a month. Why did this matter so much?

Steve bit his lip. Bucky sighed wetly, and let out a little laugh. He shook his head as he laughed some more, rubbing at his eyes. Sniffling a little, he pulled himself back together, meeting Steve's gaze again.

His face was stuck in a wince. Bucky didn't want his pity.

He turned and stormed into his office, ignoring Steve's quiet plea for Bucky to 'hang on one second, could they talk in his office?' because it was before nine in the morning and he already felt completely brokenhearted.

Natasha frowned up at him as he collapsed into his chair, exhausted.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking.

"James," she sighed, rubbing his sleeve.

They were silent for a while. Natasha watched him, concerned.

"Is he dating Sharon?"

Natasha reached up, caressing his hair. "I don't know."

He leaned into her hand. "I don't care, anyways."

"I'll come over tonight. We can watch something."

Bucky smiled at her, grateful, as she continued to play with strands of his hair.

A throat was cleared in the doorway. Bucky jolted, whipping around to face Steve. Steve, who looked a little disheveled but still professional, and who was staring Bucky head-on. It was almost too intense to be under that penetrating gaze, and Bucky suppressed a shiver.

"Bucky," Steve said, calmly. "Can I talk to you in my office for a moment?"

"We're swamped today, sorry," Bucky replied, turning to his computer. "Maybe tomorrow."

He could feel Natasha watching him, shocked. It probably wasn't his smartest move, to be a dick to his boss. But here they were.

"It'll only take a moment." Steve wasn't taking no for an answer. His tone was almost urgent.

Bucky slammed his laptop shut. "Fine. Right now?"

"Right now, thanks."

Steve turned and walked swiftly down the hall. Bucky followed him like a brand new intern just learning the place, nervous and self-conscious.

Too soon, they were in Steve's office. The door was shut, locked, and Bucky was hovering in front of Steve's couch.

"Sit."

"I'd rather stand, if this won't take long; I should get back to work soon," Bucky said, edging towards the door.

"Bucky."

"What did you need me for, boss?" Bucky asked, cold exterior.

"Sit," Steve snapped this time, and Bucky startled. He'd never seen Steve properly angry, but Bucky was pushing his buttons on purpose now, and it was only a matter of time before his instigations led to a blow up.

Bucky sat rigidly on the edge of the couch. Steve sat on a chair across from him, looking both pitying and frustrated with Bucky.

"So, how have you been?" Steve said, polite.

"What?"

"How have you been? We haven't spoken in a while."

"Yeah, over a month. I'm surprised you haven't fired me yet."

Steve just exhaled a harsh breath, centering himself. Before he could respond in that same, stupidly professional tone, Bucky cut back in.

"So, you're dating Sharon again?"

This time it was Steve's turn to ask, "what?"

"Congrats. I'm really happy for you. Can't say I'm surprised."

Steve let out a humorless laugh. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me, Bucky. Don't come in here, and get all sad and then all fucking cryptic, and then expect me to understand what you want!"

"I don't think it's very professional for you to fight with me in your office. This is a personal issue."

"Well, would you rather we step outside the building?" Steve was not forgiving today. He was rough and brutal.

"No. I'd rather I go back to work."

"We are fucking talking this one out, Bucky. So you're going to stay here until it's sorted. Got it?"

"Or what? You're going to fire me?"

Steve let out a growl of frustration, standing up. He paced his office, trying to calm down. "I'm not dating Sharon."

Bucky couldn't help fanning the flames. "That sucks. I always thought you were perfect together."

"What the fuck?" Steve whipped around.

"You should've gone out with her in the first place. What was I even around for?"

Steve was close, now, in his face. He seemed almost desperate, and blindingly angry. "What were you around for? I was in love with you, Bucky!"

"Don't fucking say that." Bucky shook his head, looking to the side, tears blurring his vision again. When the first one fell down his cheek, Steve reached out a thumb to wipe it away. The gesture was so gentle in comparison to his harsh words.

"Don't tell me what I can say. I meant it, and you didn't care. You keep comparing me to this fucking Pierce guy, like I'm going to beat you or rape you, and what the fuck am I supposed to do but tell you over and over that I won't, that I love you, that I'm here for you?" Steve's chin was quivering a little and the tip of his nose was turning pink. Bucky had only seen him cry on extremely rare occasions, and the sight of it broke his already crushed heart.

"You're not here for me! You're fucking Sharon!" Bucky shouted in Steve's face. He didn't care if anyone outside could hear him. He didn't care about anything but this awful man in front of him who he missed so much. Tears were falling fast down his cheeks now, but he didn't bother wiping them away. His breath was choppy and uneven, and he was on the verge of full-out sobbing.

Steve looked furious. His face and neck were red. "We're friends! Friends, Buck! And why the fuck do you care, we're not even together anymore. You have no say in what I do. Stop wanting me to be like you, to want the exact same things as you! Just because you're not friends with your ex doesn't mean I can't be friends with mine!"

And wasn't that just a punch to the gut.

Steve looked as though he regretted his last sentence the second it flew out of his mouth. But it was too late. Bucky let out a violent hiccup, stood up, regained his balance, and stormed to the door. He was unsteady on his feet, and felt even more unsteady when he looked back at Steve's face.

"Bucky," Steve whispered, horrified. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that."

Steve's eyelashes were wet and clumped together. He looked wrecked.

Still, Bucky probably looked worse.

"I think we're done here," Bucky managed to say. "Sorry for getting mad. But let's just keep things professional from here on out."

"Bucky..." Steve didn't say anything else, and Bucky couldn't meet his teary eyes.

This was it, finally. They were done. No more strings, no more arguments. It was all out there, and it was all over.

"See you around, Steve."

He stepped through the doorway, shutting the door quietly behind him. Then, he rushed to the bathroom to have a good, long cry.

***

Spring came, and with it grew a new relationship between Steve and Bucky: a strictly professional one.

It was working, too. Bucky averts his eyes when he passes Steve, which he would naturally do with any intimidating authority figure. Steve doesn't look up when Bucky drops a document off at his office, just scanning his eyes over the page and giving a grunt of approval or a few jotted critiques.

It's been said again and again why one shouldn't date a coworker, or anyone from the workplace, for that matter. If it ends, it's going to end in an uncomfortable, painful way. Distance is out of the question. So instead, Bucky tries to focus his attention on his work.

This made Maria very happy. She would swing by his office every few days, thanking him and Natasha for their good work, and reminding Bucky that he was now a permanent fixture in this office, and that she hoped he would settle in for the long run.

Bucky didn't quite know about that. It wasn't getting much easier, seeing Steve around all the time. He would run into him in the hallway, or by the elevator, and it would feel like Steve's familiar hand was squeezing his heart. Thankfully, Steve had stopped lingering by Sharon's desk, at least when Bucky was around. It was the little mercies that made Bucky stay.

And he liked the work, he really did. He just didn't know what he would do if Steve started openly dating, or what would happen if he got married. His wife would come by the office, perhaps. Bucky couldn't stomach the thought.

And yes, that was way into the future. And yes, Bucky was overthinking and overanalyzing, but he was also currently searching up other job listings on the Internet, which he did daily just in case something better ever came up. It never did.

He liked his work too much. But Steve was right there, and how was Bucky ever supposed to move on if Steve was right there?

His only logical option was to start dating again, and to pray that he would find someone who could make him forget about Steve. It was Clint's idea. Clint thought this was a reasonable suggestion; Bucky thought it would never work. He had been on three uneventful, unsuccessful first dates. They had all ended with an awkward goodbye and and a promise to call. The call never happened, of course.

But maybe Clint was right. Maybe this was the way to get over Steve. Because getting back together with him certainly wasn't an option. It was too late.

"What are you doing?" Clint emerged from his bedroom, changed into workout clothes.

"Nothing," Bucky said, closing his laptop. The job listings could wait until another day. "What are you doing?"

"Going to the gym!"

"No way."

"Wanna come?"

Bucky laughed, turning on the television. "Absolutely not."

Clint snatched his keys off the counter. "You going to the bar? It's Friday."

"I know. But, no. I think I'll just stay in, watch a movie, you know."

Clint gave him an unimpressed look. "Alright. See you in a bit."

Bucky waved goodbye, and Clint was out the door.

***

Two hours later, the sky was dark outside the apartment windows, and Clint was collapsing through the doorway, sweaty and exhausted. Bucky was in the exact same position Clint had left him in: curled up on the couch, watching television.

Clint stumbled in front of the television, which Bucky turned off, and laid down on the wooden floor.

"You okay, pal?" Bucky laughed, adjusting himself so he could look down at his roommate.

"I think I left my body back at the gym. I died there."

They both laughed. After a minute or two, Clint had recovered enough to sit upright. Bucky grabbed his laptop off the coffee table, opening it and pointing it at Clint.

"So, I just got an email," Bucky began.

"Congratulations," Clint deadpanned.

"Really, this is serious! I have to go on a business trip next week. Wednesday to Friday. Two nights."

"Ooh, your first business trip, you're all grown up."

Bucky cut to the chase. "It's with Steve."

Clint fell silent, joking aside. He gave Bucky a concerned look.

"Yeah."

"Does Steve know about this?" Clint let out a little chuckle to lighten the mood.

"I assume Maria booked it, not knowing that this pairing would be a disaster for everyone involved."

"Can you say no?"

Bucky sighed, running his hands over his face. "I have to go. It's my job."

Clint sat down next to him, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think it'll be."

Bucky looked at him with tired eyes. "We're stuck on a plane together, in a hotel together, going to meetings together. I think I might die."

"Call me if you're on the verge of death. I'll distract you with my celebrity impressions."

"Oh god. They're awful, but I'll take it over hanging out with Steve."

"Alright, alright, alright," Clint said. Bucky laughed at the terrible McConaughey impression, shoving Clint playfully.

Bucky felt himself relax a little. Maybe it would be okay. After all, it was a short trip, and he and Steve had become masters at ignoring each other.

Still, this was going to test their limits.

***

The week flew by, as weeks often do when a dreaded event is approaching.

On Wednesday morning, Bucky let himself sleep in. Maria had given him the day off of work; his flight left at six in the evening. At noon, he threw together a small suitcase with a suit, some blue pajamas, and a couple casual clothes. At three, he said goodbye to Clint, who wished him luck, and at four, he was at the airport, checking in.

He'd meet Steve at the gate, probably. He didn't even know if they were seated together. They still hadn't spoken; everything had been organized through Maria.

He went through security and found his gate in a dull daze. Soon enough the plane was boarding, with no Steve in sight. Perhaps he had taken a different flight? Or maybe he had already boarded, when Bucky was in the bathroom?

"Bucky!"

It had been surprisingly long since that voice had said that name. Bucky immediately responded, turning towards a slightly disheveled Steve.

"Sorry I'm late. I mean to meet you before, but I got caught late in a meeting and basically sprinted through security. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bucky said quietly, looking at his feet. Steve was so close, and so alive. This was a major shock to the system after a month of radio silence. Steve's cheeks were a little flushed, either from panic at his lateness or embarrassment at his rambling.

Steve nodded towards the shrinking line onto the plane. "Shall we board?"

"Yes we shall," Bucky said. He almost had an impulse to grab Steve's hand, before he remembered that this was not a romantic trip between lovers, it was a strictly professional business trip between exes, or more importantly, between boss and employee.

"Were you waiting for me?" Steve asked, glancing at Bucky as the line moved up.

"Um, yeah," Bucky said. He bit his lip. Steve's eyes flicked down for a second.

"Sorry," Steve said once more, and Bucky shrugged. But Steve's apology had much more weight than it needed to; it felt like Steve was apologizing for everything, ever.

This was going to be a long trip.

***

Bucky wasn't seated next to Steve on the plane, and that was probably for the best. Steve had looked a little hesitant to stop at his seat once he realized Bucky would be farther down, but Bucky had waved him off and told him it wasn't a big deal. Steve had shook his head and agreed, as if he were just realizing that it was perfectly acceptable for them to be seated apart. After all, they weren't together.

The flight from New York to Toronto was quick, but Steve seemed exhausted upon landing. Both men stayed silent as they left the airport; they barely spoke in the cab to the hotel.

The lobby was filled with people in suits, returning from busy days. It was a tall, marble-walled, crystal-chandeliered type place. Steve spoke confidently and clearly with the lady at the front desk, and Bucky slipped off to the bathroom, which was clean and quiet in the way that fancy hotel bathrooms are.

When Bucky emerged, Steve was waiting for him, a frown on his face. He looked nervous as Bucky approached him.

"What's wrong?"

"Look, Buck, I'm sorry, I think I messed up," Steve looked so wiped, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

Bucky wanted to reach out and take his hand. He resisted the urge. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's fine," he said in a calm voice. Underneath, he was tensing up, though.

Steve relaxed a little, giving Bucky a small, sad smile. "You're going to be mad."

"Just spit it out, then."

"There must have been a miscommunication, because there's only one room."

Bucky felt the tension lessen. That wasn't too bad. A little awkward, sure, and a lot of extra time with Steve, but Bucky could wander the city or something. They had meetings all day tomorrow, so it's not like they'd be camped out in the hotel room. "Oh, that's fine," he said. "As long as there's two beds."

Steve's cheeks were bright red. He stared at the floor. Bucky had never seen him so embarrassed or uncomfortable. Usually, Steve was the picture of confidence. "About that..."

"There's two beds, right?"

Steve shook his head, and his dark blue eyes met Bucky's with an apologetic expression. "There's only one bed. A queen, so we can spread out, but still."

"Fuck," Bucky sighed, running a hand through his long hair. This was exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid this trip.

"I'm so sorry. I know this is uncomfortable, but it'll be hard to find another hotel with another room so last minute." Steve looked a little panicked, and Bucky just wanted to calm him down. "You know what? I can sleep on the floor," Steve continued, and then nodded as if it were a done deal.

"No!" Bucky immediately stopped him, finally giving in and reaching out to hold Steve's arm. That stilled them both, a little overwhelmed at the contact. "It's fine. We can share a bed, we'll just... be professional. Nothing personal, little talking, no touching. Act like we never dated, like we've never shared a bed in any other context. Which we've been doing pretty well, already."

Steve deflated, and that sad, hurt look was back. "Yeah. Okay."

An awkward silence settled, and both men had trouble maintaining eye contact. Finally, Steve gave Bucky a somewhat hopeful smile. "Do you want to have dinner?" he asked. "We could just eat at the hotel restaurant."

Bucky frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... I'm going to go out and wander a little. You eat here, I'll eat out. It's probably for the best."

Steve nodded sharply. "Of course. See you tonight, then. I can take your bag up to the room."

Bucky thanked him, handed off his bag, and headed back towards the exit without looking at Steve's face. He didn't see the disappointment there, or the regret. But he could feel it in himself, and that was enough to make his chest hurt.

***

There was only one bed.

That was the thought that cycled through his head, over and over, on his walk through the nighttime Toronto streets. The sun had set, but the city was bustling with life as well-dressed people filtered in and out of restaurants and stores. Cars whizzed by and the lights of office buildings twinkled in the sky. But Bucky was too nervous to properly take in the city. He called Becca, who got angry with him for not calling in a while, and who then, once he told her his situation, comforted him into a somewhat less anxious state.

By the time he returned to the hotel, finishing off a wrap from a food truck, he felt a little more relaxed. He licked his fingers, threw the paper in the trash, and strode inside with mock confidence. Fake it till you make it, they say.

After a short elevator ride, Bucky knocked on his own hotel door.

He took a deep breath.

A freshly showered, pajama-clad Steve Rogers opened the door. Bucky wanted nothing more than to fall right into his arms. But Steve was barely even smiling, and did not look happy to see him, just giving him a nod and opening the door wider so he could pass through.

Bucky inhaled to calm himself as he walked by Steve; he could smell the soft hotel shampoo. He wanted to bury his face in Steve's hair, and just cry. Steve was talking now, but Bucky hadn't quite tuned in yet.

"...water pressure's good, I'll just be reading in bed for a bit and then I'm going to call it a night."

Bucky looked up at Steve, who's arm muscles flexed as he closed the door. "Sorry, what?"

Steve gave him an unreadable look. "The shower's all yours."

"Oh. Thanks." Bucky cleared his throat and hurried into the bathroom, not looking back at the gorgeous man climbing into the bed they would soon share.

Steve was right; the water pressure was good. Bucky dried himself in the shower, not wanting to get the floors wet, when he realized that he'd left all his clothes in his suitcase. What else was there to do but tie his towel around his waist and hope Steve wasn't too bothered by his relative nakedness?

When he emerged from the bathroom, Steve did look bothered, but not in a bad way. Bucky could feel a blush climbing his face; he took the look Steve was giving him as encouragement. He let droplets of water run down his stomach, which Steve's eyes followed carefully. He ran a hand through his damp hair, lifting his arm and giving Steve a full view of his torso. It had been a while since Bucky had been this naked in front of Steve. In a different universe, where Bucky and Steve were still together, the towel would be gone and Bucky would be pinned under Steve on the bed right now. Was Steve picturing the same thing as him? He hoped so.

Steve's face was flushed, his eyes were dark and hungry, and his lips were wet from licking them. After a charged, drawn-out moment, Steve glanced away, remembering himself. The spell was broken, and Bucky scrambled to his suitcase to unzip it and find his pajamas.

"I'm tired, Buck. I think I'll go to bed, now, if that's okay with you."

"It's okay with me. I just have to put these on and brush my teeth," he said, holding up his pajamas, averting his eyes. It was too late to jerk off, and if he kept staring at Steve in those soft, thin pajamas, he was going to have a problem.

He slipped into bed three minutes later, and Steve flicked off the lights. Neither man said anything, although sleeping would be impossible until one of them did. Bucky rolled over, getting comfortable under the thick hotel blankets. Steve shifted too, adjusting his pillow, and his leg brushed up against Bucky's. Bucky could only see the glitter of Steve's blue eyes in the dark as Steve stared at him, waiting for him to move his leg away.

Bucky felt a wave of sadness wash over him. Why was this so hard? He missed when they were comfortable together, when brushing legs would lead to intertwined hands, and then soft kisses being pressed along his jaw and brow. Bucky rolled back over with a sigh.

And then Steve's strong arm was around his waist, pulling him backwards into Steve's solid chest. Bucky immediately tensed up in shock. Steve seemed to be holding his breath as well. But then Bucky relaxed into the warm, welcome embrace, and Steve loosened up immensely, pulling Bucky even tighter.

He was being spooned by Steve. He could feel his breath tickle his ear.

Steve pressed his forehead into the back of Bucky's neck.

Bucky didn't say anything, careful not to break the moment. This was the most alive, the most at home, he'd felt in weeks. He'd missed this so much. Steve and his body were the same as always, maybe even better than he remembered.

"Please," Steve was saying, "let me just hold you for tonight, okay? Let me pretend."

Bucky gripped the arm around his waist, holding on for dear life. He fought back a sob. He felt so warm, so loved. It was like Steve still wanted him, still missed him.

Maybe Steve hadn't been lying when he said he loved him.

***

Bucky woke up facing Steve's back. The bed was warm, and the sheets were rumpled.

Was last night a dream? Or did Steve really hold him until he fell asleep? It was so foggy and surreal, but it had to have been true, because if it wasn't then that would just be a new low for Bucky.

There was only one way to find out.

He pressed his hand onto Steve's back, hoping to gauge his reaction to Bucky's touch.

Steve turned over quickly. He had already been awake.

Steve's expression was a major surprise to Bucky, who jolted his hand back, retreating into his fluffy pillow. Steve's eyes were red-rimmed, and his nose was pink. He looked like he had been crying.

Bucky's heart broke a little. Steve stared at him with wet eyes, open and vulnerable.

Bucky reached out to caress Steve's face. Before he could stop himself, Steve was leaning into his touch, burying his face in Bucky's open palm.

"I'm sorry, Buck," Steve said with a sniffle.

"Sorry for what?" Bucky said. His tone was softer than it had ever been to Steve,

"For everything, for asking too much of you, for pressuring you, for making things terrible between us." Steve reached a hand up to brush a long strand of hair away from Bucky's face. "I'm just sorry."

Bucky's vision was blurring now, too. "Nothing to be sorry for, Stevie." He pressed his body in close to Steve, who welcomed him with open arms.

Steve's face was buried in his neck, their bodies intertwined so perfectly. "I know we want different things. But I need you in my life."

Bucky let out a sob, and Steve stroked the back of his head. "I need you too," he said, lips moving against Steve's golden hair.

Steve pulled back to see Bucky's face. He seemed to be fighting a grin. "Does that mean we can be friends again?"

Bucky nodded, teary-eyed. His chin quivered, which Steve saw, and he pulled him back in for another hug. Bucky sniffled through an embarrassed laugh, wiping his eyes against Steve's plain white t-shirt.

"Should we get some breakfast?"

"Together? Absolutely," Steve said, and Bucky could feel Steve's wide smile pressed into his neck.

***

The hotel buffet was surprisingly fresh, but the meetings that followed were not.

Bucky was there to assist Steve, and to contribute to brainstorming sessions. They would consult with various companies, talk strategy and financial deals. Bucky had some good input, and Steve would shoot him a proud smile whenever he contributed something worthwhile. It made the meetings a little more exciting.

Nonetheless, by the fourth meeting, Bucky was antsy to get away from this professional setting and talk to Steve like they used to. He was beyond relieved that they'd decided to be friends again. This mean that Steve didn't hate him. Steve missed him. Steve even needed him, apparently.

Unfortunately, the day was basically meetings, meetings, meetings. Not even time for lunch.

At seven in the evening, when they finally wrapped up for the day, the men were starving and exhausted. They opted for a hotel meal again, so they could go to bed as soon as possible.

"Thank you for coming on this trip with me," Steve said, as he cut into his steak in the open, dimly lit hotel restaurant.

"Well, it's my job," Bucky said, shrugging.

"Still, you could have given some excuse."

"Like what? I used to date my boss and I can't go on a trip with him because it'll be awkward?" Bucky flushed as he said it, wishing his mental filter was a little stronger.

Steve just laughed. "Yeah, something like that. Or, 'I can't go with Steve because he's too hot and I can't concentrate'. Along those lines, you know."

Bucky gave him a mock shocked look. "Too hot? I think it's the other way around; you should have told Maria to choose someone else, because 'Bucky's just too hot for me to handle.'" They grinned at each other, both taking a bite of food.

After chewing, Steve said, "I asked for you to join me, you know."

Bucky swallowed. "What?"

"Yeah, I asked for you to come with me," Steve said, confident and almost amused at Bucky's surprise.

"But we weren't even talking."

"I know. I thought maybe this would fix things."

"You wanted to fix things?"

Steve gave him a small smile. "Come on, Bucky. You can't have liked how things were between us, either. I had fun talking to you long before we even got together. I wanted that back."

"Well, your master plan worked out," Bucky said, a content feeling bubbling up in his chest.

Steve clinked their glasses together. They finished their meals in peaceful, comfortable silence.

***

Steve hovered by Bucky's side as they waited for the elevator doors to open. Bucky knew he was going to be hogging the shower tonight; his pants were already a little tight. Being around Steve was enough to make his head spin. And now that they were talking normally again, there was less heartache and more arousal and desperate want. Bucky was still just a man, and Steve was beautiful and strong, with big hands and a tight waist. And Bucky remembered how it all felt under his palms, that rippling muscle and smooth skin. He remembered Steve's soft sighs and quiet moans. And the more he thought about it, the more riled up he got.

This elevator was taking an annoyingly long time.

Bucky could feel a man stop behind them, likely waiting for the elevator as well. He could feel the man's eyes on his back, and Bucky subtly peeked over his shoulder to get a good look at the guy. His hair was scruffy and dark, but streaked with grey. He was maybe in his late forties, but he looked sharp and in shape, wearing a fitted navy suit. This guy was a true silver fox; if Bucky wasn't standing next to the most attractive man on the planet, he might have been interested in the guy standing behind them.

"Excuse me," the man said to him, his voice deep and velvet smooth. "This is very forward of me, but if you're interested later tonight, my room number's three fourteen. Give me a knock. I'd be happy to spend the night with you." The man shot him a charming smile and walked away, towards the hotel bar.

Bucky stood there, stunned. It took a moment for him to notice Steve's sharp stare.

"That was weird." Steve spoke in a pointed, clipped tone.

"Yeah," Bucky said, turning to watch the man disappear around the corner. "What do you think I should do?"

Steve did a double take. "What do I think you should do?" he repeated, almost scoffing. The elevator doors dinged open, and they stepped inside, alone.

"Like, should I go?" Bucky frowned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's been a while. I don't get hit on much. Plus, he was pretty hot."

"Oh, he was pretty hot. Great." Steve's ears were really red. He punched the button for the fifth floor, much harder than necessary.

What was Bucky supposed to do? He and Steve were friends now, and this is how friends acted. Steve had no right to be so angry, or even jealous. Bucky stared at their foggy reflections in the back of the elevator's silver doors, waiting for Steve to say something else. He knew Steve well enough to know that when something was bugging him, he'd have to voice it again and again.

"You gonna go?" Steve said, as the elevator started its ascent.

"I don't know, I literally just asked you if I should."

Steve stared up at the screen, showing the changing floor numbers. Two more to go. "Well, I'm not your boyfriend, I have no say. Do what you want."

"Steve," Bucky said, a little harshly. He had nothing to follow it up with, though. Steve plowed on.

"No, my bad. I forgot that all you want is no strings sex. So go on, go meet that guy in his room. Go fuck him. Enjoy yourself. This is what you do, after all."

The doors slid open on their floor. Steve stormed out and down the hall, towards their room. Bucky trailed after him, unsure of what to say or how to handle such an angry Steve. Steve was usually so collected, or at least relatively conscious of what he was doing. But right now, he seemed furious. Bucky didn't know what to do.

At their door, Steve roughly swiped the key, bursting into the room. He didn't hold the door for Bucky, who slipped in after him.

Steve whipped around to face him. "I don't care, Bucky. Go. God, just fucking go!"

"Steve," Bucky said, voice faltering.

"I don't care, just go," Steve repeated, turning away and starting to take off his shoes.

Bucky was flustered and on the verge of tears. This was all so unexpected. They had been doing so well. Steve still wouldn't face him, though, so he hurried out of the lobby and back downstairs to the hotel bar.

He seriously needed a drink.

***

Bucky returned to their room a half hour later.

Down at the bar, he had slowly sipped on one small glass of whisky, letting his mind go blank. On his way out, he had ran into the man who offered sex to Bucky earlier, and told him not to expect him tonight. He apologized and thanked him for the offer, and now here Bucky was, knocking on his own door again, hoping that Steve had cooled off enough to let him inside.

The door was yanked open. Steve stood in front of him, completely naked body except for a pair of tight black boxers. Bucky felt his eyes flicker up and down his gorgeous, muscled, pale skin. Steve had clearly not expected him back so soon. This was such a sight for sore eyes, Bucky wanted to bend down and press kisses all over that abdomen and down those long legs.

Once Steve got over his initial surprise, his face hardened, his eyes going cold. "Did you have fun?" he asked, voice flat.

Bucky slipped into the apartment, and Steve slammed the door behind him.

"I just had a drink at the bar. Told the man I wouldn't be joining him. Can you calm down?"

Steve didn't say anything. He wouldn't look at Bucky, just shuffling past him towards the bed. He looked a little regretful, but mostly still just pissed. "Good for you, Buck. Like I said, I don't care."

But watching Steve now, watching him spin around with that hurt, angry, jealous look on his face, it was obvious that he did care. And that was the moment Bucky knew. He knew that he didn't want anyone else, ever, and he knew that he would give Steve anything he wanted. He knew that the pain he'd been feeling the past two months was not worth the risk of being with Steve. Steve was the only option; he had been since he met him. And he was standing in front of him right now, chest rising and falling in anger, body bare and so, so sexy.

Bucky stepped closer. Steve's eyes met his, in a dark, furious, and half-turned-on glare. "I want you to care," Bucky said softly. Steve inhaled sharply, taken aback. Bucky took another step closer. They were close enough to reach out and touch each other. And, oh, how Bucky ached to. "I want you to care so bad. I want you... I just want you. Only you."

Steve's eyes were wide and predatory. And then he was closing the distance, grabbing Bucky's smaller body and pressing it against his. Their lips met, and Bucky felt so alive, more alive than ever before. It was heaven, kissing Steve Rogers. His lips were warm and firm, and his hands roamed Bucky's back, cradling his head at the base of his neck, pressing his hips into Steve's so they could feel each other's growing erection. And then Steve broke apart for air, and they were both panting, and Bucky's lips were wet and his pupils were blown.

Steve's cheeks were flushed as he pressed his forehead against Bucky's. "This what you want?" he asked, tone gruff and husky.

"Yes," Bucky gasped, letting Steve wrap him up again, claiming his lips even more fiercely than before.

And then his suit jacket was shoved off, his shirt was unbuttoned, and soon enough he and Steve were in equal stages of undress. Once he was in his boxers, Steve threw him on the bed. He was so hot, and so was Steve, they didn't bother getting under the covers. He let Steve lie directly on top of him, pressing kisses down his jaw and neck. Bucky squirmed in pleasure, fingers digging into Steve's back.

Bucky couldn't help it: he wrapped his legs around Steve, pressing his heels into Steve's ass and pushing their crotches together. Steve moaned into Bucky's neck, taking a break from nibbling at the skin to feel the pleasure of grinding down onto Bucky.

Bucky's body was singing in ecstasy. This was what he'd been missing out on. This was all he'd ever wanted.

Steve tore off his underwear, and Bucky fumbled with Steve's as well. Once both men were completely naked, Bucky flipped them over so that he could straddle Steve's waist. He ground down, and Steve groaned, his head dropping back against the pillows. Bucky hovered above Steve, grinning down at him. He cupped his face, running his thumbs over Steve's sharp cheekbones.

"Steve," he sighed.

"Yeah, Buck?" Steve's eyes fluttered closed, his hands reaching back to squeeze Bucky's ass.

Bucky pressed their bodies against each other, even harder than before. Steve groaned once more, bucking his hips up. "Thank you," Bucky said. He didn't know how else to describe the feeling blooming in his chest.

Steve shook his head, his hair getting messed up against the pillow. "No, no, thank you," he said, pulling Bucky in close, before pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his warm skin. In between kisses, he whispered, "thank you, thank you, thank you." Bucky had never felt so loved.

He reached down to hold Steve in his hand. "You're so hard," he said, stomach tightening in arousal.

"I know," Steve chuckled, breathless. "Do something about it, will you?"

Bucky took that as a challenge, and let his body do what it had been craving to do for so long now: know Steve's body so intimately and openly, that there would be absolutely no going back.
***

On Friday morning, Bucky woke up wrapped in fluffy blankets, but without the warm presence he craved.

Steve was gone.

That could only mean one thing; he didn't want Bucky to get the wrong idea. That was what people did after one night stands that they didn't want a future with: they left them alone in the morning. It was still early, so Steve had no excuse to be gone. He should still be in bed, with Bucky.

Bucky could feel the overthinking spiral come on.

It wasn't like they had made any commitments, after all. They had just hooked up. Steve still thought Bucky didn't want a boyfriend, and he was probably still mad about the way Bucky had completely ditched him and their relationship.

And now Steve had realized that they weren't meant to be together, and had fled the scene of their lovemaking.

Bucky felt sick.

He lay for a while longer, before eventually dragging himself into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the events of the previous night. He got dressed and packed his suitcase up in a daze.

It had been so wonderful while it lasted. Something so special and life-changing existed between him and Steve, that maybe it was never meant to last long. Still, Bucky was wrecked that Steve had left him. How would they treat each other back at the office? Would it be back to ignoring each other and pretending nothing ever happened?

Bucky took a deep breath, wiping his eyes as he headed out of the hotel room. He would wander the city until it was time to catch his flight; it was better than sitting around the hotel room, waiting for the man he loved to come back and confirm that he didn't want Bucky the way Bucky wanted him.

***

When Bucky glanced down at his ticket as he walked down the aisle of the plane, he noticed that he had secured a window seat. It boosted his mood a tiny bit; he loved the window seat. Small victories were all that mattered, now.

He had been sitting in his seat for a few minutes, watching the men in neon orange vests walk around below the plane, making sure all the luggage was secure and the plane was fit to fly, when someone slid into the seat next to him. Bucky turned to give a polite smile to his seatmate when he froze in shock. It was Steve. Steve, who looked more beautiful than ever before, with rumpled clothes, messy hair, a shadow of stubble and sorry eyes.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, but their bodies naturally angled themselves towards each other. This was it. This would either break Bucky's heart beyond repair, or somehow piece it back together. The former seemed far more likely.

It was still silent between them. Bucky, feeling awkward, finally spoke up.

"Cool coincidence we're sitting next to each other on this flight-" he started, but Steve cut in.

"Bucky, I'm so sorry," he said, keeping his eyes down, reaching out to hold one of Bucky's hands. "I shouldn't have come onto you when I know you don't want me. You'd made that so clear, over and over, that I wasn't what you wanted, and I still just... I couldn't help myself. But that's no excuse."

"What?" Bucky felt like he had missed a conversation of theirs. Steve had jumped all over the place, to so many far-off conclusions. Oh, god. Had Bucky maybe done that too?

"You clearly didn't want to talk to me this morning, and I get it. I waited at that hotel until the last possible second, but you never came back and then the plane was going to leave and I figured you must be on it. And even though you were obviously avoiding a conversation about our relationship, I had to talk to you, just to apologize. I know you don't want to be with me. I loved last night, even if it meant nothing to you. You're just so special to me, and I'm glad we got to have that. I don't expect anything from you." Steve was being so raw and kind, and Bucky felt his heart swell. How could he not be head over heels in love with this man?

"Steve..." Bucky tried to articulate their miscommunication. "I woke up... I woke up, and you were gone."

Steve shook his head, confused. "What?"

"You were gone so I thought you'd changed your mind. I thought you didn't love me anymore and didn't know how to tell me, and that was why you left."

Steve let out a loud, unexpected laugh, that was so full of relief and love, it was Bucky's new favourite sound. "Bucky, I -" he started, before cutting himself off and reaching into the carry-on luggage he had stuffed at his feet.

He unzipped the pocket, pulling out a small bouquet of crushed flowers. They were pink and red and the stems were all wilted, but Bucky thought they were the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen in his entire life.

"Bucky, I went out to get you flowers. I wanted to do it right. I wanted you to wake up to flowers and to me telling you all the reasons I love you, and instead you woke up to nothing, and for that I am sorry."

Bucky stopped breathing for a moment. "You still love me?"

Steve's smile lit up the dull plane. "You thought I could possibly stop? There was no way, Buck. I love you, and that's not going away."

There was nothing left for Bucky to do but kiss him, so he did. It was sweet and soft, the perfect reconciliation after so much heartache. They broke apart to grin, before brushing their lips together again. Steve's hand was in his hair, and Bucky grabbed onto his sturdy shoulders. They belong to each other, and they should never be separated again.

In a breath, Bucky whispered, "I love you too, you know."

Steve stopped, pulled back with a wide smile. "I didn't know that, actually."

Bucky immediately felt a rush of guilt. Steve had been offering himself up so fully, over and over, and Bucky had given him so little to hang onto. It broke his heart that Steve even doubted how Bucky felt. He needed to change that, as soon as possible. He needed Steve to know, and he would remind Steve every day from here on out.

"I love you so much. Way too much. It's been terrible without you, and I never want to do that again. I thought that I couldn't do commitment, but really I was just scared. And I have no reason to be scared of you. All you've ever shown me is that you love me. You've only ever treated me with kindness, and I'm so sorry I didn't see that or trust that. I'm so sorry, Steve."

Bucky could feel himself tearing up once more. Steve looked emotional too, though. He kissed Bucky's eyelids, and then planted a comforting kiss square on Bucky's forehead. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I had to earn your trust, I understand. And I will do my best to continue to deserve it. We're going to do this right. I'll get the paperwork filled out for the office. We're going to be okay."

"I'm already more than okay. I just want to be with you." He nuzzled into Steve's cheek, warm and safe.

Steve let out a long sigh, and both men were finally at peace. They were quiet for a while, enjoying the feeling of touching each other, with no complications or obstacles in the way for the first time.

"Can you tell me you love me again?" Steve asked, a whisper into Bucky's soft hair.

Bucky tilted his face so he could see into Steve's deep blue eyes.

"I love you. I've been in love with you for a while now. Please ask me if you ever need a reminder. In fact, I'll just keep reminding you, and you just tell me if you ever want me to stop."

Steve had never looked happier. He let out a little laugh. "That is one thing I will never ask of you."

"Good," Bucky replied. "I love you, then."

"I love you too, Buck."

And in that moment, all the pain and exhaustion and anger they had gone through didn't matter one bit.

Love was worth it all.