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If Steve had to be up at the asscrack of dawn (not entirely an exaggeration), at least there was coffee.
"Remind me why I'm not in bed?" he asked around a yawn. The line at Gregory's hadn't moved an inch. Steve was beginning to think they'd wound up in one of Dante's Circles of Hell or maybe some Sartresque version of Purgatory where coffee was forever in sight, but forever out of reach.
"Because we both hate crowds," Peggy reminded him. Like Steve, she was dressed for a day of serious walking and shopping – boots, jeans, comfortable shirt and hoodie – although she was wearing a festive headband with reindeer antlers, and her hoodie had dancing snowmen on it. It was pretty cute. And slightly blurry at the moment.
Steve waved a vague hand at the line of people out the door. "I think everyone else had the same idea," he said. "Which defeats the point of the early start."
"I did want to get started an hour ago, but someone – not naming any names – was up rather late last night –"
"I'm trying to meet a deadline, you know that –"
"You've had this deadline for weeks," Peggy reminded him. "And yet you still chose to wait until the last minute to get it done."
"I was busy with my other two projects," Steve protested, indignant. He blinked down at her again; she was still slightly hazy. And his eyes were starting to itch. Not a good sign.
She leaned against his shoulder companionably. "Maybe next time don't take on more work than you can handle."
"I'm not turning down Brian Michael Bendis or Ed Brubaker when they come calling." The Brubaker deal, she knew, was especially huge, because it was for Ed's ongoing Captain America series. Which was one of the biggest sellers at Marvel. To get a chance to illustrate a comic of that magnitude and size, and with that much exposure every month, was (hopefully) the big break he'd been seeking. The next rung in the ladder to writing and drawing his own title series.
"A fair point," Peggy replied, and patted his cheek. "You'll feel better after coffee."
"Assuming we get any anytime soon," he sighed, and rubbed at his eyes again. Everything just got cloudier. "I need to take my contacts out. You good here for a minute?"
"Well, I was planning on running off with the first attractive man I saw, but I suppose I can put my dream on hold for you."
"I appreciate your sacrifice."
"I’m sure you do."
He shook his head and smiled, and walked (well, sort of shambled) over to the men's room. He hated not wearing his contacts, but the irritation and blurriness happened sometimes when he'd been up too late the night before or hadn't gotten enough sleep. Although he should have grabbed his glasses from Peggy while he was at it; when he walked back out into the main room, everything was basically a colorful blur. The fact that he was tired as hell and unable to concentrate wasn't helping.
At least Peggy was wearing the headband, he thought, as he spotted her – she'd moved up a little in the line while he'd been gone, yaye – and headed over. As soon as he got to her, he slipped his hand in hers and scrunched down a little to carefully – lest he mess up the antlers – rest his cheek against her hair.
"Next year," he said, around another big yawn, "we're doing all our Christmas shopping online."
"Are you lost?"
The voice was low and husky and very amused. And was very much not Peggy's.
He popped his head up, and squinted. This close, he could sort of make out that the woman standing next to him had red hair, not brown, and her hoodie didn't have the snowmen on it, although it was the same color. "Uh..."
Then he heard Peggy's laughter from somewhere behind them, and groaned. "You're not Peggy."
"Natasha," she told him, still amused (at least, she still sounded amused).
Fuck. He really should have asked Peggy for his glasses.
"Sorry, I'm just...it's just..." Belatedly, he realized he was still holding onto her hand, and dropped it before she could scream or slap him or...whatever horrible thing she might do that he would totally deserve. "I'm kinda blind without my glasses and I just took my contacts out. I'm really sorry."
"There are worse mistakes to make, don't worry about it," Natasha replied. She sounded nice. Not too terribly concerned or shaken by the whole thing, which was another plus.
"I guess it's one way to make new friends," he joked. He should have made his way back to Peggy, who was no doubt texting everyone they knew right now, but he couldn't leave this situation – or Natasha – without at least trying to make amends. Maybe he should buy her coffee? A pastry? Or would she think he was trying to hit on her? He didn't want to make her feel more uncomfortable.
"You're adorable looking, but I've already got enough strays to wrangle and keep track of. I don't think I need to add to my collection."
Oh God, she was probably someone's wife or mother or something and he'd just made things ten times more awkward and – "Oh, I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't mean it like that, I just thought –"
Then a large, warm, and definitely masculine, hand slid into his, and a low, very male voice said: "Nat, you love new friends, don't be rude."
"James, really?"
"Yes, really." The hand in Steve's gently tugged. "C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee; you can be friends with me instead."
"Um...okay?" Maybe Steve was still asleep. This seemed odd enough to be a dream. Although he remembered reading somewhere that everyone you saw and heard in a dream was someone you'd met or seen before in your waking life, and Steve thought he'd remember it if he'd ever heard that voice before. It sounded like warm honey or mulled wine – soothing and sweet but just a little rough underneath. Steve thought he could listen to it forever.
And the guy – James – also smelled amazing, and his hand was warm and large, almost as large as Steve's own, in fact. Steve could also make out dark hair that looked pulled back off an angular-shaped face, and it also looked like James was about as tall as Steve himself. Steve really wished he had his damn glasses, because this guy sounded and smelled and felt seventeen shades of amazing.
"M'Steve," he mumbled around another yawn. If this was a dream, at least it was a nice one.
"Bucky," came the reply. "Nice to meet you."
"You too." Then Steve frowned. "Wait, Bucky? Who the – I thought your friend just called you James?"
"Yeah, but she's the only one who does," James – Bucky – replied. "Hey, your girlfriend's not gonna get mad or anything, right? I don’t want her thinking I’m trying to steal you away."
His what? "Huh?" Steve asked, squinting in vain to try to bring Bucky's face into clearer focus. It never worked, but Steve continued to try. One day he'd learn, but today was not that day.
(He was sort of stubborn like that. Ask any of his friends.)
"Your girlfriend? The girl you were with when you came in. Pretty brunette with the great smile? Currently standing and conspiring with Natasha, which is, honestly, sort of terrifying."
"Oh, you mean –" Steve chuckled, and swallowed the next yawn as best he could. This was the last time he got less than four hours sleep before trying to be social. Honest. He was going to pinky swear it, or put it in writing or something. "Peggy's not – I mean, we're not – okay, we were, but we're not now."
Bucky laughed, rich and sweet and slightly rough, just like his voice. And just as achingly sexy. "You know, I actually think I got all that."
"Sorry, I'm normally more" – he waved a hand around vaguely – "but I had a late deadline, and me and Peg always do our Christmas shopping for our friends and family the Saturday before Christmas because it's festive, but early because we don't like crowds, and I'm sorry, you don't care about any –"
He could still hear Peggy sniggering behind him, although she sounded a little closer now, but he was far too focused on trying to pull his foot out of his mouth at the moment to pay too much attention to it. This was why he had difficulty making new friends. And also why his dating life was non-existent at the moment.
Bucky laughed again, and bumped Steve's shoulder like they were old friends sharing a cherished inside joke. "No, it's fine. I like hearing you talk. Anyone ever tell you you've got a great voice?"
"Funny, I was just thinking that about your voice," Steve replied, then winced. Really, Rogers? Really?? "Sorry, that sounded –"
"Thanks," Bucky interrupted, and laced his fingers even tighter in Steve's. Which...they were still holding hands. And it was...really, really nice. Better than, even. Sweet and almost old-fashioned, like something maybe his grandparents used to do back in the day.
"Sorry, I'm just...yeah. I tend to ramble when I'm tired. I'm not normally as...you know." Steve shrugged, hoping he wasn't blushing as bad as he thought he was. His face felt like it was completely on fire. Then he turned in what he hoped was Peggy's general direction and leveled his best glare. It was all well and good to give him shit – he deserved it for getting himself into this situation – but he really did need to be able to see at some point.
"It's cute, don't worry about it," Bucky said, just as Steve felt light fingers glancing across his lower back, and the press of his glasses in his free hand.
"Here, you look like you need these," Peggy told him, and it was clear she was actively forcing back the laughter. Steve was afraid to think of the messages he was going to undoubtedly have waiting for him on his phone from their friends. Howard, in particular, was going to have a field day. Maybe he’d just keep his phone on silent mode for a little while longer. Like, maybe the rest of the day or the year. "Hullo, I'm Steve's friend, Peggy."
"Bucky, and I see you've met Nat already," Bucky was saying as Steve fumbled with his glasses to put them on, and –
Holy fucking Toledo, Bucky was beautiful.
Steve blinked, dumbfounded. Bucky's hair was indeed long and dark, pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, and his face was angular. But now Steve could appreciate the rich sable color of his hair and the sharp cut of his jaw, as well as the beautiful blue-grey of his eyes and the absurd length of his eyelashes and the fullness of red lips when he smiled, wide and deep-grooved. And, when Steve quickly glanced down, he saw wide shoulders and big arms, a nice chest, and muscled thighs that looked like they should be illegal in some countries.
"Wow," he breathed. He couldn't have imagined or drawn anyone better looking if he had a hundred years.
Then Bucky twisted to fully face him, and Steve sort of lost his breath again. "I like 'em. The glasses, I mean," Bucky commented, with another devastatingly handsome smile. "Very hipster, but in a sexy way."
Wait, sexy? This gorgeous man thought he was sexy??
"He thinks they make him look like a librarian," Peggy said, throwing him under the bus without a qualm.
"Jesus, Peg –"
"A super hot librarian, which is just James’ type," Natasha said, joining them – and wow, she was just as attractive as Bucky. Curvy and delicate-looking, with full, pouty lips and soft red curls framing a heart-stoppingly beautiful face. Maybe he really had died, and this was Heaven. Although there was still the lack of coffee to think of.
"Nat, don’t start," Bucky warned. He leaned against Steve's shoulder again, his body a nice solid line against Steve's own. "Ignore her; she lives to cause trouble."
"Then she and Steve should get along splendidly," Peggy said, with a wink for Steve. She was terrible. He had no idea why they were still friends.
"Tell me everything," Natasha replied, and they turned towards the counter and started talking, effectively ignoring Steve and Bucky.
Steve was absolutely going to kill Peggy later. But much later, because Bucky was still staring at him with that small, secretive-looking smile, and still holding his hand, and still standing so close, Steve could feel the heat radiating off of him. They were almost to the front of the line. Which was...disappointing. The one time he didn't mind the Sisyphean wait, and of course they had to go and open another register.
"If your, uh, Peggy's anything like Nat, they'll be trading the most embarrassing stories about both of us for the rest of the day," Bucky said, with a charmingly sheepish shrug.
"Try the rest of my natural life," Steve countered, and smothered the next yawn with his free hand. "Sorry, it's just..."
"Tired because of your deadline, I know," Bucky replied, with another friendly nudge. Steve had to fight the urge to lean against him for real. Bucky looked like he gave exceptionally amazing hugs. Hugging him was probably like being enclosed in a really warm fleece blanket, if said blanket looked like it could bench press a horse.
"You know you don't have to – I mean, it's fine," Steve said, gesturing at the registers. He should probably pull his hand away, but he didn't want to...well, he didn't want to be rude is all. That was totally it. Self-denial was not just a river in Egypt, okay.
Bucky just gave him a sideways glance and those full, red lips enticingly curved up again. "Well, I normally get a cute guy's number before I buy him a drink, but this is an unusual circumstance."
Cute guy...? Drink...? Oh...wait. Oh. Steve suddenly wished he was short again, like he'd been in high school, so he could hide behind a plant. Or that he could slink away to stick his face in a freezer or something. "You want me – oh God, I mean...you want my number?"
Bucky laughed, a little high and embarrassed-sounding. It was adorably sexy, just like everything else about him. "Noticed you and your friend when you walked in. I was trying to figure out a non-creepy way to ask for your name and maybe if you wanted to grab a cup of coffee sometime, when you put your head on Nat's shoulder. Figured you were either trying to hit on her or –"
"I wasn't. I mean, that's um, that's...oh." It wasn't that Steve wasn't used to getting hit on or getting date offers (especially after his growth spurt and starting to hit the gym on a more regular basis), it was just...none of his dates or offers had ever looked like Bucky. The last time he'd been interested in anyone remotely this attractive had been, well, Peggy. And she'd had to pursue him.
"Is that...?" Bucky's smile dimmed a little; it was like watching the sun go behind a cloud. "Am I coming on too strong? Being weird? I'm being weird, I'm sorry, you're probably not even into guys –"
Steve stopped him from pulling his hand away. "It's great," he said, throat working as he nodded. He hoped like hell he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. He could see Peggy's shoulders shaking (no doubt amused as all hell at his fumbling attempts at flirting) as she and Natasha gave their orders to the barista at the register. "I'd, um, love to. Coffee or giving you my number or whatever. Also, into guys. Just, y'know, so you know."
"Really?" Bucky started grinning again, slightly goofy but God, it was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen.
"Yeah, I'd...I'm just not used to really attractive people hitting on me, I mean, not that you were, at least not in a weird way, and not that I'm not saying you're not a great person because you smelled – uh, God, you just...you seem nice," Steve finished lamely. Someone needed to put him out of his misery stat.
"You too," Bucky answered, eyes softening, then stepped to the counter. "Large coffee black, room for cream, for me, and..." He squeezed Steve's fingers. "What do you want?"
"Oh, um, same. Room for cream, too, I mean, uh, also. I like room for cream."
Where was a sinkhole when he needed one? This right here was why he spent most Friday and Saturday nights working and not on dates with attractive people.
Bucky paid and they had to stop holding hands to grab their coffees. Steve had to admit, he already missed it. "Thanks for..." He held up his cup after taking the first life-affirming sip. Nectar of the Gods, truly, forget ambrosia.
"Maybe you'll let me do it for real sometime?"
Steve nodded so fast he was sure he had whiplash. "I'd really really love that."
Bucky pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket and handed it to Steve. "If you want, you can –"
"Yeah, oh yeah, of course." Steve gave Bucky his coffee to hold onto so he could type. His fingers were shaking slightly as he put his number in; he had to check twice to make sure he hadn't transposed any of them, or misspelled his name or something.
"Thanks." Then Bucky's fingers flew over the screen for a second, and then he put it away. "Just sent you a text so now you have mine," he said, and gave Steve back his coffee.
"What are you doing tonight?" Steve asked.
"Um." Bucky shrugged. "Don't have much going on after I'm done with my errands today. Why?"
"Mine and Peggy's friend, Howard, is throwing a holiday party. You should come. I mean, I'd like it if you felt like dropping by. Natasha too, if she wants. It's super low-key. Just, y'know, friends and friends of friends," Steve finished, with a helpless cringe. He really was terrible at this.
"Yeah, okay." Bucky nodded, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear. "Sounds great."
Steve internally fist-pumped. "Okay, cool, I'll text you the address." Which meant he was going to have to take his phone off silent, and deal with all of his friends’ teasing comments. But Bucky was worth it.
They both made their way to the condiments station. Like Steve, Bucky only took his coffee with a bit of half & half. Relationships had been built on less. Not that Steve was thinking that far ahead or anything, because that would be weird. Nor was he thinking about where to take Bucky for their second date – there was this great Thai place near his apartment that had the most amazing food, and was near the park, so they could go for a walk after and –
"What'll, um, I mean, what do you want to tell people about how we met?" Bucky asked. "I’d hate to embarrass you, even though the whole thing was kinda funny."
Steve snorted. "Don't worry, I'm sure Peggy's already informed everyone by now of my shame. I really am blind without my glasses or contacts, so everyone's used to it."
"Is it weird to say I'm glad you are? Because, I mean, well, you know," Bucky said, with one of those adorable self-effacing shrugs that Steve was already totally enamored with.
"No," he said, with a slow smile. "It's not weird at all." In fact, for the first time ever, Steve was also grateful for his bad eyesight.
"Should be a fun story to tell the grandkids one day," Bucky joked, leaning in close, like they were sharing a secret.
Steve groaned. "Yeah, the time Gramps met Papa by attempting to maul his friend in line for coffee."
"I think mauling is a little extreme," Bucky replied, with a small smile. "Nuzzling sounds better."
"Yeah, I’m not sure it does, but thanks for the thought. And for, well, making everything...not as terrible or weird as it could have been." Steve caught sight of Peggy, waiting patiently (for her) by the front door. Natasha was also standing with her, giving them both a very amused look.
"It was my pleasure," Bucky said, and Steve was mesmerized by the look Bucky was giving him. He never wanted to leave the cozy, crowded confines of Gregory's, or be away from those eyes or that smile.
"I’m lucky you were around to rescue me," he breathed, catching himself before he swayed too far forward.
"I got your back, don't worry." Then Bucky brushed a quick kiss across Steve's lips. Steve barely had time to register the softness of Bucky's mouth before it was gone. "See you tonight?"
"Yeah," Steve said, certain he had to be beaming brighter than any of the lights on any Christmas tree. "Yeah, you bet."
They both smiled goofily at each other for another minute, then Steve reluctantly turned and headed for Peggy. Who was staring fondly at him like he'd done something particularly brave or stupid or both. (Where he was concerned, it was almost always both.)
"Don't," he said, when he got close enough. He was sure his glasses were fogging up and that his blush had to be down to his chest by now.
"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied, and cozied up to him. "But if you did want to wax rhapsodic about his eyebrows, you know where I am," she replied, with a teasing smirk. Steve groaned, but followed her out the door.
And if he maybe spent a little more time than strictly necessary over the course of the day texting a certain very attractive man while Christmas shopping and waiting for Peggy to finish...whatever it was Peggy was doing...he didn't think anyone would blame him.
***