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Neither of them is ready for it the first time it happens – even if it is Bucky’s idea.
They’re on a mission, alone since Sam’s off on super secret Captain America business – which is code for an endless parade of boring meetings in Washington.
Out of boredom more than anything Bucky agrees to go on a mission to collect intel on a possible arms deal with Joaquin. It’s a simple job, stake out the bar Jorge Morrow, an up-and-coming arms dealer, likes to use as his personal office and watch, taking note of who he meets with. Simple turns into a disaster when, on the third day, their target finally shows up but not alone.
As it turns out Morrow has recently hired a new bodyguard who has crossed paths with The Winter Soldier.
“Shit,” Bucky whispers as he quickly turns to face the wall of bottles behind the bar.
“What?” Joaquin cocks his head like a confused puppy, turning towards Bucky while maintaining a line of sight on Morrow.
“We have a complication,” Bucky answers picking up his glass of barely-touched whiskey to cover his sudden interest in the bar he’d been holding up with his back all night.
“What kind of complication?” Bucky hesitates, reluctant to reveal more of his dark and twisted past to Joaquin. The younger man looks over at him for the first time in hours. His eyes flit all over Bicky’s face taking in every detail. Whatever he sees on Bucky’s face is apparently enough to paint a fairly accurate picture. “Oh, that kind of complication.” Bucky doesn’t know how to feel about the kid knowing him so well. “Well–maybe he won’t remember you.”
Bucky scoffs into his drink. “I carved that scar into his face, he’s going to remember me.”
Joaquin nods looking from Bucky to Morrow and back, Bucky doesn't miss how his eye lingers on the scar in question – it’s a long, jagged, ugly thing that runs from the bodyguard's left eye, down and around to the center of his throat. If he keeps that up he’ll blow their cover long before Bucky does.
Bucky moves quickly, pushing off his stool and slotting himself in between Joaquin’s legs. He presses Joaquin’s back into the bar and captures his lips in a kiss. Joaquin’s arms flail for a few seconds before finding a purchase on Bucky’s waist.
Bucky runs his right hand through Joaquin's hair – to sell the kiss and not at all because he didn’t put any product in it today, leaving it looking soft and silky. Joaquin keens at the touch, the soft sound turning into a moan at the gentle tug Bucky gives the velvety strands.
Things escalate from there pretty quickly. Bucky takes the opportunity to lick his way into the other man’s mouth and Joaquin uses his hold on Bucky’s waist to drag him in closer, eliminating all space between them.
Joaquin sucks Bucky’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting down into it at the same moment that he reaches down and grabs a handful of Bucky’s ass. Bucky moans like a cheap whore, the sound startling both men back into the present situation.
“Fuck,” Bucky whispers into Joaquin’s ear. “Are they still here?” Joaquin nods, incapable of coherent speech as he’s still trying to catch his breath. “Okay, good. Keep your eyes on them and hopefully, we can still get what we came here for.”
They do get the intel, Joaquin keeping watch while Bucky spends the rest of the night glued to Joaquin’s front with his face hidden in his neck and if he occasionally sucks a dark bruise into the unmarked flesh before him, well it’s, for no other reason than to help maintain their new cover – he absolutely doesn’t relish in the salty taste of Jaoquin’s skin or the little hitches in his breath.