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She was something else. Sure, Bucky had seen plenty of dames like her, flawless skin, soft hair, kissable red lips, and curves, curves, curves. But there was something about Agent Peggy Carter that was something else entirely. Steve had told him about her on the march from Austria to Italy. Just about the first thing Steve had seen her do was punch out some bully troop who was coming onto her. He knows immediately that Steve is enamored. Women didn’t ever really pay him much attention, and the fact that she did really got to him.
And Bucky thinks that’s great. Steve is a swell guy, and it had always bothered him that the girls he found for his friend had never looked twice to see it.
He had been more than prepared to stand back and do whatever it took to help Steve reel her in, but then she walks into that tavern, all dark curls and red over curves. The whole place goes silent at the sight of her. And Bucky can’t help it. He tries to hold his tongue, but he asks her to dance, but she’s got eyes only for Steve.
And isn’t that something.
He’s never had that happen to him before, even when his competition wasn’t Steve. He’s used to his charm getting him at least a lingering gaze. Peggy didn’t even glance at him.
He’s jealous of Steve, and that’s something else that has never happened before. He knows he shouldn’t. After all, this is the one victory Steve’s ever had over him. What kind of a jerk would pout about that?
But he is pouting a little. He passes it off as a joke, and Steve laughs and says that maybe she’s got a friend. He’s awful. He’s an awful friend to be bent out of shape about this.
But the thing is, it’s not just that she’s a knockout. Certainly, she is, but she radiates a toughness and a determination that he’s rarely seen in a woman. And he thinks it would be amazing to have her around, around for a while and not just a night like the usual dates. Have her around and really talk to her like she’s an equal. Because a lady like Peggy, she’d never sit back and let a man think he’s better.
Steve’s new physique doesn’t make him any more of a party goer. He’s ready to turn in early, but he offers to stay longer if Bucky’s not ready to head back to the base. Bucky waves him off and successfully hides the frown when Steve says something about maybe Peggy’s still up.
Bucky moves on from beer to the hard stuff. He doesn’t really have the money for it, but that’s what the cheap stuff is for. It burns, but it does its job.
Hours tick on, and people filter out. It’s late, too late, far past curfew, but Bucky doesn’t leave. He’s a little surprised when someone plops down beside him. The man has dark eyes and ruffled hair, a neat moustache, and is wearing an expensive suit. Bucky blinks and it takes a few seconds before he places why the man is familiar. Howard Stark. Bucky saw him in Queens the night before he shipped out at an Expo.
That was the last time he saw Steve. His Steve. The little Steve. Because the new Steve is different. But the same.
He’s not even making sense in his own head.
“So, you’re the guy I almost got shot down over Nazi territory for, huh,” Stark says, and Bucky blinks.
“What,” he slurs.
Stark arches a brow and reaches out to take his glass. Bucky makes a fumbling attempt for it, but it’s no good. Stark doesn’t sip it, just sniffs, and he makes a face. “No, no,” he says. “You almost got me killed, but you’re not drinking this lighter fluid anymore.” And he waves the bartender over, and they’re brought a bottle of something that looks very nice without further prompting.
Bucky’s got enough wits about him to recognize that that means Stark is damn rich and that he’s a regular. But hell, if he’s paying.
“How do you know me,” Bucky asks, and he’s pretty sure the words are intelligible.
“Your file,” Stark says, throwing back his entire glass and refilling. “Plus you’re new in town and you look like shit. About what you’d expect from someone who just walked out of a prison camp.”
Bucky glares at him. He doesn’t exactly need this guy’s help remembering that place. Luckily—maybe—Stark isn’t much on dwelling so he’s already jumping topics. “Rogers not up to the late night benders?”
“Sniffing after Carter,” Bucky mumbles.
Stark’s face does something there, but he’s a little fuzzy, so Bucky can’t quite place it before it’s gone. “Well, who wouldn’t,” Stark says. “She’s quite the lady.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says.
“Rogers is quite the—well, not lady, but you get me,” Stark says. Bucky makes a noise. “Taking off against all orders by himself into fucking Austria, right into a God damned HYDRA base where Schmidt himself is nesting around. Fuck. And he came back.” Stark sounds awed. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
Bucky turns a glare at him. “You flew him into enemy territory thinking he wouldn’t come out alive?” He’s drunk and Stark is probably sober, but Bucky will tear him apart.
Stark realizes he’s hit a trigger and holds up his hands nonthreateningly. “Shit, you say it like I was fishing for him to get shot. No, I just meant, we didn’t hear back from him for days. After a while, after no word from Peg, I thought—I thought he didn’t make it.” His voice quickly brightens from the oddly soft tone. “Showed me, didn’t he?”
Bucky should be picking up on something here.
“I hear he’s getting his own team now,” Stark keeps on. “Big step up from chorus girl. Medals for heroism, a platoon, weapons built by yours truly. I’ll get the rest of you boys some nice, new toys too. I’ll get the specs from him tomorrow, see what you kids are into.”
“Yeah,” Bucky says, just trying to get even a word in. This guy can talk. “Ms—or Agent Carter said something—something about that.”
Stark chuckles. “Don’t let her catch that slip up,” he warns. “Or you’ll find yourself flat on your back with her heel in your throat.”
Bucky snorts a bit. “She get you, huh?”
“Got me good,” Stark says, pouring himself another drink. “Knows what she wants, that one. Isn’t going to settle for anything less.”
Less.
He’s less, isn’t he? She didn’t even look at him. The first girl in a long time that he wanted to really, really look at him, and all she can see is Steve.
Stark’s quiet, which Bucky is already pegging as weird. He looks over to see the other man staring at him. His dark eyes are intense, and even this drunk it makes Bucky really uncomfortable.
“She’s in it for Rogers,” Stark says after a moment, his gaze not letting up. Bucky tries not to squirm, but he feels like a frog under his old grade school science teacher’s crooked nose.
“She get under your skin too,” Bucky asks, sliding the bottle back down to him. No use hiding it. Stark seems to know exactly what he’s thinking.
Stark chuckles. “Peggy, naw,” he says, and he needs a refill too. “Couldn’t handle her even if she’d let me. She’s a fine lady but not entirely my style.”
And there it is again. Bucky should be getting something here. There’s something in Stark’s voice talking about Peggy and Steve and—oh. Oh. There it is.
“Steve,” he says, and Stark doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t even flinch. He just smiles a little under that moustache and drains his glass.
“Human perfection is pretty hard to ignore,” he says.
Bucky thinks he ought to be disgusted on a lot of levels. Here comes some guy he doesn’t know who sits by him in a bar and admits to feelings—physical attraction kinds of feelings—for his best, very male friend.
Maybe it’s the liquor talking, but he isn’t disgusted. He doesn’t get it, but then again, maybe he does a little. Steve’s a handsome guy, and he’s still got all that goodness inside him, all the qualities that Bucky always wanted some dame to pick up on and give his friend a chance. Human perfection indeed. And what’s it really matter if another man picks up on that? Stark’s making all of Steve’s weapons. So really, that attraction just seems like an added incentive for Stark to really keep Steve safe.
Bucky’s not about to protest that.
And, hey, you fall for who you fall for. Bucky doesn’t want to look twice at Peggy, but he’s going to until something can top her. He’s not going to do anything, same as Stark probably won’t do anything with Steve. It’ll be strange, sitting back like that. Bucky’s not used to it, and he imagines a rich, handsome guy like Stark probably isn’t either.
“He deserves it,” Bucky says.
Stark wouldn’t know just how much, but he agrees, “Yeah.”