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“It’s Lucky!” Bucky chirped loudly, his head thrown back in amusement as he laughed pitchily at Clint’s napkin doodle. He, Steve and Sam had taken Bucky out for lunch after his therapy session. This was something that had started as a one-off to celebrate Bucky’s 12 month marker in the Tower, and has since turned into a weekly occasion.
The four men were in Guigino’s downtown, the table was covered in small plates, pizza and glasses of soda. It was a small family run restaurant, so the table was relatively narrow and the groups of diners packed in. After their second visit, Marc, the owner, had cleared space at the back corner to accommodate Bucky’s chair and walker. It was the little actions like this that were the most meaningful to Steve.
Bucky’s hand flapped happily before slapping down on the padded arm-rest of his wheelchair a few times. It was an endearing habit and one that filled Steve with warmth. There were few things Steve enjoyed more than seeing Bucky so full of joy and excitement that a still body cannot contain it. His scratchy giggles and hearty sighs were just the cherry on top.
The table next to them didn’t seem to think so, if the way they were staring and whispering was anything to go by. Steve can take dirty looks, and perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise that Bucky didn’t seem to understand them. The two older women were staring, complaining in hushed tones and tutting dramatically any time Bucky laughed or spoke.
Sure, Bucky was a little loud. But that was all. He wasn’t screaming, wasn’t shouting - not that it’d be his fault if he was. He was just laughing and joking with his friends. Just like anyone has the right to. Bucky didn’t have the greatest understanding of volume and tone and Steve knew that sometimes his stunted way of speaking and blunt responses could be unfamiliar to people. But above all, Bucky was visibly disabled. If his soft, padded helmet and AAC device didn’t give him away, then his lilting and jumbled speech along with his specifically designed wheelchair did. Still, the women continued to stare. They didn’t shoot daggers when Clint loudly mimicked an Ewok, or when Sam dissolved into breathless laughs at a story about Steve’s shower-singing. No, they only stared when it was Bucky. And it was starting to piss Steve off.
Still, Steve plastered on a nonchalant face and relaxed his shoulders, not wanting Bucky to catch onto his discomfort. The long-haired man was still slowly eating his pizza, his hand cooperating for the most part. He looked, as usual, effortlessly handsome. With his chestnut locks secured in a loose bun and adorned in a soft black tracksuit, his new Nike trainers on his feet. Bucky had picked them out himself, insisting that the Asics Steve bought for him weren’t ‘hip’ enough. The warm, red light of the afternoon filtered through the gingham curtains, casting an orange hue across Bucky’s naturally tanned skin. He looked good. Natasha had bought him a stockpile of hair and skin products when he’d injured his hip in physio and had nothing but time on his hands. Bucky had started trying to style his own hair, settling on applying the cream and spray before ( gleefully ) ordering Steve to brush or style it. Not that Steve minded. It was compensation enough to watch Bucky take an active part in looking after himself and there were far worse chores in the world than rubbing his fingers through his boyfriend’s silky hair.
“Does he have to be so loud? Some of us are trying to enjoy our meals.” A nasally voice interrupted, bringing Steve crashing back to reality. Clint frowned, looking over at Bucky who was too busy sorting through the icons on his AAC device to notice. Sam was visibly tense, sharing a quick look with Steve. The robotic voice of Bucky’s AAC device broke the uncomfortable silence.
‘More drink. Help please.’ Bucky was looking expectantly at Steve, eyes big and wide and face blissfully unaware of the nasty situation brewing. Steve smiled as best he could, and picked up Bucky’s glass of Cola, holding the straw to his eager mouth. Bucky slurped the drink thirstily and signed a quick ‘Thank you’ at Steve before busying himself with his tablet.
The women were still glaring with barely hidden disgust at Bucky. Steve was suddenly filled with a rage he hadn’t felt since he was small and bitter. These strangers didn’t know anything about Bucky. A faint dinging told Steve Bucky was playing his memory games on his tablet. Dr Lisa had recommended them, simple matching games to keep Bucky’s brain active and try to strengthen his short term memory. For every correct match, the tablet gave out a tinny round of applause, barely audible over the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. Bucky chattered under his breath as he thought through each problem. Sam and Clint kept up their casual conversation, unoffended by Bucky deciding he’d had enough socializing for now. Steve could see the hard line of Sam’s jaw as the women continued to stare.
“Steve - it’s won!” Bucky pointed out, beaming up at his boyfriend and tugging slightly on his sleeve. Steve plastered a soft smile onto his face and nodded encouragingly. A loud tutting broke the tender moment.
“Excuse me? This is a restaurant, can’t you make him wear headphones?” One of the women snapped, leaning across to actually tap Steve’s shoulder. All three men balked, apart from Bucky, who was too busy to notice. Steve flinched away from her hand and set her with a firm glare.
“He’s not hurting anyone. The tablet’s quiet.” Steve snapped at the sour-faced woman, finally garnering Bucky’s attention. The loud scraping of the woman’s chair against the floor had Bucky flinching and staring nervously at the woman. She had turned around fully now, and was facing the table of men.
“Look, I’m a very patient person. I haven’t got anything against people like him ,” Her arrogant voice grated on Steve, but it was Sam who snapped, when she continued, “like I said, we’re trying to enjoy our meal-”
“And so are we. So, why don’t you mind your own business?” Sam fixed her a hard look and made eye contact with one of the waiters. The woman scoffed, in total disbelief that the men had dared talk back to her.
“You’re angry?” Bucky’s voice ran loud and clear in the otherwise uncomfortably quiet moment. Steve cleared his throat and turned his attention to the trembling man. Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his stomach growing warm at the small smile gracing Bucky’s face. “They’re beened bad?” He mumbled, loud enough for both of the women to hear, eliciting a choked gasp from one of them. Bucky turned to get a good look at them, his face dropping to a frown at their sour faces. “ Look bad.” Steve bit back a smile at Bucky’s bluntness, something a cackling Clint obviously wasn’t able to do. Bucky didn’t mean anything bad about their appearances, just the scowling looks on their faces. But somehow, Steve didn’t feel like correcting him.
“You’re going to let him say that? I understand that there’s something wrong with him, but there’s no excuse for being down-right rude-”
“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with him.” Steve snapped, cutting her off abruptly. “And if anyone’s being ‘rude’, it’s you. Now, we’re going to go back to our lunch.” The blonde gritted out, purposefully turning his chair further in and ignoring her protests. Bucky smiled as Steve moved himself nearer, wrapping an arm around Bucky and pressing an exaggerated kiss to the man’s cheek. Smirking at their scandalized gasps. Bucky playfully shoved him and mumbled something akin to ‘ Get a room, punk .’
“I’d listen to him if I were you,” Sam leaned over to murmur to the women. “I heard he knows Captain America.” He faux-whispered, grinning at the pair’s scowls.