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Summary
When he'd asked for a distraction, this wasn't what he'd had in mind, but there was something about Steve.
There was a sharpness there, a cleverness; a cunning. People saw Steve because he wanted them to see. They looked at him the way they did because he knew how to make them. Steve knew just how to walk into a room, how to look, how to sit, that got people wanting him, people like Bucky, people who'd be willing to buy his services. Steve had played him from minute one, and Bucky was strangely unashamed that he'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.
"My car?" Bucky breathed raggedly, his gaze flickering over Steve, hardly thinking, just knowing he wanted to shortest possible distance between them, and whatever horizontal surface he could possibly take Steve on.