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Apparently, a formal date in the late 1930s and early 1940s was an entire production. There are all of these silly rules that make no sense in modern context, but Bucky is so earnest that Stiles doesn’t mind humoring him. When Stiles mentioned that this isn’t really their first date, Bucky looked like his balloons had been popped and someone broke his Lego house—okay, maybe Stiles is projecting Scott’s downcast face from his seventh birthday party when Jackson did those things, but Bucky was definitely crestfallen—so he just stopped debating the whole thing. Instead, he’s just going with the flow and trying really hard to try not to take control of the night.
As it is, he’s currently in his apartment waiting for Bucky to pick him up for their date, like he’s back in school. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been sleeping over at Bucky’s house since he got back from his undisclosed location. Apparently, a formal date means Stiles is supposed to be picked up from his house, so he came home to change and wait. It’s actually good that he came home for a bit, though, since he needed to check his mail and straighten up.
There’s still an hour left until Bucky’s picking him up, so Stiles is doing some minor research from his phone while waiting. After having Jarvis to help search, it’s such a downgrade to be back on Google. But, really, he’d rather do this search without Stark knowing because he isn’t sure what he might discover. Depending on his discoveries, he might end up hacking into his dad’s account to do a more thorough background check.
His phone starts ringing, startling him. What the hell? He hasn’t even done anything yet. He just thought about it, and somehow his dad knows he’s up to no good.
“Yo, pops,” he says, answering after the third ring. “Are you okay? Natalie? The town? Scott?”
“Everyone’s fine, son,” Dad says, his tone patient. “Do I only call when there are problems?”
“Nope, but you also don’t call that often,” he says. “I’m usually the one who calls.”
“Well, you haven’t called in several weeks, so I thought I’d call you for once,” Dad says. “Is it a bad time?”
“Dad, Lydia and I just had a shared Skype with you and Natalie a couple of weeks ago,” he says dryly. “Remember? We gave you the cruise for Christmas. Natalie was thrilled. You were worried about finding a bathing suit in November.”
“For good reason, Stiles. No stores around here have bathing suits during the winter. I had to order something off of Amazon, and you know the size probably won’t be right because they never are,” Dad bitches, making Stiles smile because he misses his dad’s pointless rants.
“Lydia told you that the cruise has shops that carry bathing suits,” he points out, shifting on the sofa until he’s lying across it instead of sitting up. He’s only wearing his suit pants so far, the shirt by the table so he can put it on when it’s time to leave. The pants won’t wrinkle but the shirt probably will.
“Lydia isn’t always right,” Dad mutters. “I’ve lost a little weight recently because of those meals you gave us last year—“
“Good, you need to be healthy so you can live a long time, old man,” he says, interrupting his dad. “You’ll have another year’s subscription for next year since Natalie really appreciates them.”
“You got us a cruise, Stiles. I know you’re a big city doctor now, but we don’t need another present,” Dad says. “You need to spend your money on yourself, not us.”
“Too late. I already paid for the year, no refunds,” he lies smoothly. While he did sign up again, it’s a monthly charge that he could cancel at any time. “Guess you’ll get even skinnier.”
“Joy,” Dad grumbles. “More vegetables and no red meat for another year. You know, I thought you being across the country would mean I could have control of my diet back.”
“You thought wrong,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Natalie is the best partner in crime because she also wants you to live a long time. We’re just looking out for your health, Dad.”
“When we visit in the spring, I’m getting pizza and a hot dog,” Dad says firmly.
“Fine. I know a great hot dog place.” Stiles allows it because he knows a place that does veggie dogs his dad won’t even notice aren’t the real thing. Pizza is something he’ll allow because one pizza won’t hurt.
“How’s your residency going? Still working more than you’re not?” Dad asks, his tone becoming suspiciously inquisitive.
“It’s going well. I’ll be done in a few months,” he says slowly, trying to figure out what Dad is really asking. “My VP told me that I’ll have a job offer when the residency ends if I want it. The condition is that I adhere to a work-life balance scheme that she and my Attending came up with that forces me to take days off.”
“I’m glad they’re looking out for you,” Dad says. “Even if I know you’re probably going stir crazy with too much time off.”
“I’m adjusting,” he says. “I found a homeless coalition that provides medical services to low and no income individuals, so I’ve been volunteering with it once a week since my schedule changed. When I do finally agree to only work the three days I’m supposed to, I’ll probably volunteer at the mobile clinic a couple of days a week.”
“Volunteering sounds more like working for free, kid,” Dad tells him. “I’m not knocking you using your talents to help the less fortunate, but it defeats the purpose of having a day off. I’m glad Lydia’s moving soon; she’ll be able to make sure you don’t actually work yourself into an early grave.”
Stiles bites his lip and feels the gnawing guilt that he has to ignore. “Nah, no early graves for me, Pops. I’m careful about not overdoing it.”
“Good. There’s no use in me eating like a bird if I lose you, Stiles,” Dad says. “Now, are you planning to move in with Lydia or not? She said you won’t commit to it, but we both know that you don’t care about the place you live now.”
“Really, Dad?” He groans and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll probably move in with her depending on where she moves. If it’s too far from work, it wouldn’t be worth it, but if it's in northern Manhattan, then I plan to move.”
“I’m sure if you share that with her instead of making her wait, she’ll make sure to choose a place within commuting distance,” Dad says dryly. “Natalie and I will be much more relaxed having you kids together instead of living alone across the country from us.”
“You know, there are plenty of jobs for cops and teachers in the city,” Stiles says. “If you’re both so concerned, you might need to relocate.”
“Yes, well, it’s not just that simple, son,” Dad says, his tone oddly flustered. “We have responsibilities here, and lives that aren’t simple to just uproot, and Parrish needs more time before he’s ready to run for sheriff. Maybe in a few years, but I wouldn’t want to work for the police department in that city anyway. It’s far too corrupt, and I’m an old man with no patience for that sort of thing.”
“You aren’t even sixty yet,” Stiles points out. “What’s got you flustered, Pops? Are you and Natalie doing okay? I mean, relationship-wise? There aren’t any problems, are there?”
“We’re fine, Stiles. Extremely happy and content with our relationship,” Dad says. “On that subject, is there something that you’d like to share with me?”
“Uh, I think you and Natalie are great together and I’m glad there aren’t any problems?” he says, not entirely sure what his dad wants him to say. His mom has been dead for nearly twenty years, and Natalie makes his dad happy. Not to mention the fact that she’s a total MILF; his dad can still get it.
Dad snorts. “I’m glad to hear that, son, but I was talking about yourself. Any news that you’ve been keeping from your dear old dad when he’s too far away to appropriately interrogate potential significant others?”
“I’m twenty-seven years old, so any archaic paternal interrogations wouldn’t be advisable,” he points out.
“Stiles, answer the question,” Dad says, his tone softening and making Stiles wish he was visiting for the holidays because it’s been a year since he’s had a solid hug from his dad.
“Lydia told you, didn’t she?” Stiles sighs. “What did she say exactly? I want to refrain from incriminating myself further by knowing what intel you’ve already received.”
“She told us during her weekly phone call home,” Dad admits, and Stiles feels that guilt again for not calling more often, but it’s difficult because he hasn’t shared everything with them about his power and darkness. “She didn’t say much because she’s always respectful of your privacy, but she did say that you met someone last month that you’ve been seeing pretty regularly.”
“His name is James,” Stiles admits. “I know that I’ve never dated another guy before, but you’ve known I was pansexual since senior year, so I hope that you’re seriously okay with that.”
“I’d be a hypocrite if I wasn’t considering I’m bi,” Dad mutters, and what? Since when and why didn’t Stiles know this before and does Natalie know? “James, huh? And what’s this young man do for a living? He treats you well?”
“I have so many questions for you, Dad, but I respect that it took some balls to come out so casually with your own son, so I’ll save them for now,” Stiles says carefully, wanting his dad to know that he accepts him.
“Lydia doesn’t know yet,” Dad tells him. “I’d like to be the one to tell her. Natalie does know, and she doesn’t mind at all. It’s one of those surprising revelations late in life that I might have been suppressing for a long time because my father…”
“Was an abusive asshole who didn’t deserve a kid as good as you,” Stiles finishes, having no love lost for the grandfather he inadvertently stole his name from. “James is gorgeous, with these biceps and thighs that are just edible, and his eyes are beautiful. He’s a little old-fashioned, like with some of his slang and Sinatra is a favorite of his. But, yeah, he treats me really well. We’re taking things slow because we’re both new to having a serious relationship with another man.”
“Son, just because I’m bi, it doesn’t mean I’m necessarily comfortable having you discuss your boyfriend’s edible thighs with me,” Dad says in a pained voice. “Slow is good. You haven’t had a relationship since Lydia, and that was high school.”
“He was in the army, so he’s still got some PTSD that he struggles with,” Stiles admits. “It’s something we have in common, even if mine is from the supernatural world. As for his job, uh, you’ll get a kick out of this, I’m sure. He provides ground support for some superheroes that live in the city.”
“Seriously?” Dad laughs. “Only you, kid. Is he aware of your disinterest in superheroes? I’ll still never forget Scott’s face when you two were eight, and you called Captain America pro-war propaganda. Your mother was horrified, but I was proud you understood the concept at such a young age.”
“He knows, and I think he finds it adorable,” Stiles says. “I might have met someone ridiculously famous and not given a fuck about the superhero thing, so James knows I mean it.”
“Language, Stiles. I’m still your dad and don’t need to hear that,” Dad tells him. “So, this James is a veteran with PTSD. You don’t do things the easy way, do you?”
“It actually is kind of easy, maybe too easy considering our pasts,” he says. “But he gets me, Dad. Like he sees me in a way no one else really has, and he accepts all the parts of me, even the ugliest ones, and he doesn’t judge me or have unspoken conditions on our relationship. I think I’m falling in love with him, and it terrifies me at the same time it excites me.”
“That’s what falling is like, kiddo,” Dad says softly. “Like the best and most terrifying thing you’ve ever felt all at once. I expect to meet him this spring when we visit.” He’s silent for a moment. “I’m always here for you, you know? I don’t expect weekly calls like Lydia, but I miss you, son. It’d be nice to hear from you once in a while.”
“I know, Dad,” Stiles says, still shaking slightly because he just admitted how he’s feeling about Bucky aloud for the first time. “I’ll do better at calling. Promise. I hope you and Natalie enjoy the cruise.”
“I’m sure we will,” Dad tells him. “We’ll miss seeing you kids, though. I hope Lydia’s move goes well.”
“She’s hired movers,” Stiles says. “All she has to do is find a place to live, and she’s paying other people to do the hard work. I don’t want to end our call, but I actually need to finish getting ready. James is taking me on a formal date tonight, which is apparently more serious than casual dates now that we’re officially boyfriends.”
“A formal date, huh? Sounds fancy,” Dad teases. “I’ll let you get to it, son. Have fun and use protection.”
“It’s not that kind of date,” Stiles says, snorting when Dad laughs and ends the call. He puts his phone down and runs his hands over his face before he gets up and goes to his bedroom.
After using the toilet, he washes his hands and brushes his teeth again, just to make sure he’s got minty breath instead of coffee breath. His hair is already getting shaggy again, despite the good job that the stylist Lydia scheduled for him did. He ends up brushing it and using some product to try to make it look less like bed head and more like he meant for it to be that way.
Once he’s finished, he puts his shirt on, buttoning it up but leaving the top button unfastened. He can’t stand having fabric tight around his neck these days. He grabs a tie but leaves it loose because he’s not sure if Bucky meant that formal or not. His suit coat is already in the living room waiting, and he knows it’s cold enough that he’ll need his regular coat, too.
A glance out the window when he enters the living room shows him the full moon standing bright in the sky. Last night was the true full moon, but it’s still mostly full tonight. He wonders what Susie’s pack does on the full moon. Walking to his table, he grabs his phone and opens the window, feeling the cold air against his face. He takes a photo from the fire escape and goes back inside.
He sends the photo to Scott with a brief message. View from my fire escape. Hope you’re doing well, bro. 🐺
There’s a response before he even reaches the sofa.
Bro! That’s beautiful. Doing well. Hope you are, too.
It’s about the extent of their messages these past few years, but it works for them. They usually talk on birthdays and Christmas, and it’s fine. They live different lives now, but Scott’s always going to be his brother. It’s why he can understand how Bucky is about Steve.
A knock on the door pulls him from his thoughts. He puts his phone in his pocket and goes to open it. “Wow,” he says, seeing Bucky standing there in a suit that looks tailored to fit him and his arm, and an overcoat that looks expensive. “I feel underdressed.”
“You look gorgeous, Doc,” Bucky says, starting to lean forward before stopping. “No, wait. No kissing on a formal date. Not until the end.”
“You can’t show up here looking like the centerfold in GQ and expect me to keep my lips to myself, Buck,” he says, leaning forward to cover the distance between them. He kisses him chastely, respecting the whole old-time date thing, but then Bucky does that thing with his mouth that makes Stiles reciprocate, and they’re soon stumbling into his apartment kissing heatedly.
“This isn’t the way a first date is supposed to go,” Bucky mumbles in between kisses. Stiles has him pushed up against the wall, his thigh between his legs, and he’s nibbling his way down his neck. Bucky’s slowly moving his hips, rubbing against Stiles’ thigh.
“Sorry,” Stiles says, reluctantly stepping back. He reaches down to adjust himself, squeezing a bit harder than necessary so he can calm down. It’s almost like they’re edging themselves, which is kind of kinky when he thinks about the whole ‘going slow physically’ that way. Eventually, it’s going to lead to something explosive, but, for now, he can wait.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Bucky says, smiling wryly as he moves his fingers through his thick hair. “If it wasn’t for my intimacy hang-ups, we could already be fu—“
“Hey, this is way more than just sex for us,” Stiles reminds him. “Besides, that old saying says that good things come to those who wait. I’m not rushing this, Buck. It happens when it happens.”
Bucky snorts. “Well, I guess we’ll be due some good things then,” he mutters before he straightens his shoulders. “I made reservations at an Italian restaurant that Pepper recommended. She said it’s discreet, so we shouldn’t be bothered by anyone even if I am recognized.”
Stiles arches a brow. “ Do you get recognized? You haven’t when we’ve been out together,” he says, curious why superhero support would be known. It must be due to the Winter Soldier, he realizes, which probably makes it even more awkward for Bucky.
“Not that often, thankfully,” Bucky says. “I keep my face off the news and my name as something from the past as much as I can. Sam’s been wanting me to take a more active role in some things, but I’m not interested in being known like that, so he doesn’t push.”
“Give it time. I’ll hear people at work talking about a new masked superhero hunk named the Sexy Sniper, and I’ll know your true identity,” he teases. He looks Bucky over and winks. “Definitely need sexy as part of your pseudonym.”
“You just like the mask part. Don’t lie,” Bucky says, his smile knowing. “Maybe one day, I’ll wear one for you, Doc. Just for you.”
“Kinky, Mr. Barnes,” he says, attempting his most villainous James Bond Bad Guy voice before realizing it’s lost on Bucky because he’s never seen James Bond. More films to add to their watchlist.
“If we want to make our reservation, we should probably go,” Bucky says, looking at his mouth for a moment too long to be polite. He licks his lips before going to pick up Stiles’ coat. “It’s cold out, so you’ll want your scarf.”
“Yes, dear,” Stiles says, smirking slightly when Bucky gives him a look. He goes to his bedroom and gets the fancy scarf that Isaac sent him, wrapping it around his neck as he rejoins Bucky. “I need to get a new winter hat because I can’t find my old one. One of the nurses at work gave me one their grandma knitted, but I left it in my locker yesterday morning when I got off work.”
“We can go shopping tomorrow,” Bucky suggests. “No offense to grandma, but I’d feel better if you didn’t have something that some random coworker gave you. Not until this cell is shut down, at least.”
“Do you really think someone from Hydra is going to, what, put a bug in a knit hat? Stash a camera in it?” Stiles gives him a disbelieving look. “It’s that hat I wore to your place on Thursday morning. Remember? You asked why it had lumpy parts of yarn?”
“Oh,” Bucky says slowly. “The lumps were bad yarn pulls, not tracking devices. I don’t think Hydra would be able to capture homemade knitwear quite so authentically, but you can never be too cautious.”
“I’ll make sure to leave it at work then,” he says, knowing he sounds amused but he can’t help it. He used to think he was the most paranoid person around, but Bucky might actually be even more suspicious than he is. With valid reasons, of course, and Stiles is glad it’s something else they happen to have in common.
“Good.” Bucky kisses his cheek, deliberately avoiding his mouth. “Let’s go. Pepper made the reservation for me, so I don’t want us to miss it.”
“Pepper this, Pepper that. It’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type,” he says, following Bucky down the stairs. The elevator is down again, which isn’t surprising since it worked for over a week without breaking. It must have realized it set some kind of record.
“Sure, you aren’t,” Bucky says, giving him a slight smile. “You don’t have to be about her anyway. She and Stark have something that’s real, and she’s not my type anyway. I’ve got a thing for smartass doctors with pretty brown eyes and strong hands.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a car waiting, Buck?” he asks when they step outside and he sees the dark car idling. “I’d have hurried since you’re probably paying by the minute and mile.”
“A first date should avoid the train if at all possible,” Bucky tells him, grinning as he opens the car door. “That’s why we used to go to some place within easy walking distance, but you live in the Bronx, so it’s hiring a car.”
“Just how many first dates have you been on?” Stiles asks curiously. “I know you never had anything serious, but you definitely dated.”
“I don’t know,” Bucky admits. “They weren’t real first dates, though, because I knew going in that we both just wanted a bit of fun. Sometimes, I’d set Steve up with someone, but they never took, and I’d end up going home with both ladies.”
“Got it. You were a bit of a whore,” Stiles says, smiling to let Bucky know that he isn’t judging at all. “That must have been tough back when you were younger.”
“I’ve got a secret for you, Doc,” Bucky says, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Your generation—even my generation—didn’t invent casual sex or cussing or gay people or trans people. It’s always been there; it just doesn’t usually make it into school textbooks.”
Stiles laughs. “Got it,” he says. “Thanks for the history lesson, Buck. I assume that means that your promiscuity wasn’t too difficult then.”
“I was a man, so, no, it wasn’t a big deal at all,” Bucky says honestly. “It was the women who had to deal with the worst of it, but I did the dating thing to help them out when they were horny but didn’t want to be judged.”
“I’m sure your sacrifice was greatly appreciated,” he says solemnly. “So my dad called me earlier while I was waiting for you. He knows I’m seeing someone, and he mentioned meeting you when he visits in the spring.”
“Does he know that I’m a man?” Bucky asks. “I never thought to ask if you were out to your family back in Beacon Hills.”
“Yes, I’m out to them, but this is the first time that I’ve actually seriously dated a man, so it’s probably a little new to them,” he says. “But, hey, I found out that it runs in the family because my dad told me he’s bi tonight.”
“By what?” Bucky asks, looking confused. “I knew that you’d only had sex with guys in the past, but that wasn’t until you came to the city, right?”
“He’s bisexual. No one else knows except for Natalie, I guess, and I have no idea what led him to this realization, and I don’t think I want to know because I keep thinking that maybe he and Natalie are swingers or some awful thing that you shouldn’t have to consider your parents being,” he admits, making a face. “Like, what if they have a boyfriend, Buck? Or he does? That would make family dinners pretty awkward. It just hurts my brain, and I don’t want to think about it. I can support him without knowing details.”
“Hey, it’s alright, Doc,” Bucky says, biting back a smile. “I don’t think any of us want to think about our parents having sex, no matter how old we get. At least, he’s supportive and doesn’t condemn you for who you’re attracted to.”
“I can’t wait for Lydia to find out because she’ll quickly figure out if it’s a hypothetical bisexuality or if our parents are into things we’re far too innocent and sweet to hear about,” he says, nudging Bucky’s side with his elbow when he hears a laugh.
“I’m just trying to figure out when you were ever sweet,” Bucky says, grinning when Stiles looks at him. “Innocent, sure, but I bet you came out of the womb with some sarcastic remark already formed.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t really argue with that because my mom called me Mischief when I was a kid for a reason, and it wasn’t just because I couldn’t pronounce my first name,” he says, shrugging when Bucky laughs. “I’ve always been a bit of a handful.”
“More than one,” Bucky murmurs, giving him a pointed look before glancing down then back up. “Mischief does seem pretty appropriate, Doc. You do seem to have a knack for finding trouble.”
“In my defense, I was merely waiting for breakfast at IHOP when trouble sat down across from me,” he says. “My life was incredibly routine and filled with work before that chance meeting.”
“You were bored and hiding because you didn’t feel like you could trust yourself,” Bucky says, reaching for his hand and squeezing. “Besides, you’re the one who asked me for help finding those two teenagers, so I stand by my theory that you’re attractive to dangerous things. They can’t seem to stay away from you when you stop hiding.”
“That sounds like victim blaming, Buck,” Stiles says, snorting as Bucky shrugs. “Maybe I was slightly bored before you stumbled into my life.”
“Stumbled? I dispute that,” Bucky says. “I gracefully fell into the seat opposite you because I was trying to make a good impression on a good-looking man that filled out that scrub shirt particularly well in the shoulder area.”
“Oh really?” Stiles slowly smiles. “What happened to choosing my table because the empty seat was more hidden from the front door and it was close enough to reach?”
“Those things can also be true, Doc,” Bucky says. “It doesn’t take away from the fact that I was hoping to possibly hook up with you that day, especially when you insisted that I wait for my friend at your place. I still wonder what might have happened if Sam hadn’t shown up before I could even step inside.”
“You’d have been in for a rude awakening regarding my disinterest in random hook ups, and you might not have ever come back after being rejected,” Stiles says thoughtfully. He looks at Bucky and smiles. “I’m glad Sam showed up when he did because we wouldn’t have ever become friends much less boyfriends.”
“Don’t tell him that ever,” Bucky grumbles. “He’ll try to find some way to take the credit for us despite having nothing at all to do with my stubborn perseverance that finally knocked a small Bucky size hole in those walls you have up.”
“There’s nothing small about Bucky,” he points out, doing his own look down Bucky’s body before smirking. “I won’t mention it to Sam, though.”
The car slows to a stop, and Bucky blinks before smiling wryly. “Looks like we’re here, Doc,” he says, getting out of the car. Stiles slides across the seat and gets out, looking at glowing glass walls with the restaurant name sculpted out of iron.
“On a scale from Richie to Stark, just how pretentious is Pepper?” Stiles asks, thumbing through Nogitsune memories to be able to pronounce the name of the place, which is apparently Sicilian. “Cilistinu, huh?”
“I’m thinking she must be closer to the Stark end of that scale,” Bucky murmurs. “When I asked for recommendations for a nice romantic restaurant for a first date, she said this was the best.”
“Maybe if we were both closer to the Stark end of that spectrum, it would be,” he says, glancing at Bucky. “I know we’re dressed up and having this formal first date thing, which is actually fun and sweet, but I think I’d be too nervous about breaking something in this place to actually relax and enjoy our meal.”
Bucky looks relieved. “Yeah, it’s not what I had in mind at all,” he admits. “I want us to talk and eat and enjoy ourselves.”
“Did you have anything planned for after dinner?” Stiles asks, already thinking about possible alternatives that are more their speed.
“Nothing reserved,” Bucky says. “I know you don’t like surprises, so I figured we’d discuss options over dinner and decide what we wanted to do next.”
“That’s ridiculously sweet,” Stiles says, leaning up to kiss him. “If you’re wanting romantic Italian, I know a place down around Washington Square. I used to get takeout from them, but I never ate there because it sort of reminded me of Lady and the Tramp romantic ambiance.”
“I have no idea who Lady is, but I’m sold,” Bucky says, smiling at him. “I trust you, Doc. Let’s go there instead. I’ll cancel the reservation here on the way.”
“It’s a Disney movie about a upper class dog and a street dog, and they share spaghetti at an Italian place, and don’t give me that look. It’s adorable and romantic,” he says, bumping his hip against Bucky’s. “Rocco’s isn’t too far from a popular Jazz club, and that board game place is only a few blocks over, if you feel like making a wager.”
“You want to take the subway there, don’t you?” Bucky asks, shaking his head as he reaches out to grab the ends of Stiles’ scarf. “I try to be classy, and it just doesn’t work out, Doc.”
“If you want classy, you’re totally with the wrong guy,” Stiles teases, stepping closer and kissing his jaw. “What do you say, Buck? Want to shake up the formal first date routine with me?”
“Nah, I’m definitely with the right guy for me,” Bucky says, leaning in and kissing him sweetly. “Sure, let’s shake things up, Doc. Make it a first date to remember.”