Chapter Text
Steve ducked into the one deli in Manhattan that he’d managed to find that sold a decent pastrami on rye after his Wednesday morning life drawing class, with the intention of grabbing lunch to surprise Bucky and Stark with when he swung by Avengers Tower. It was one of the rare weekdays that Buck had off from his own heavy class load, and he’d muttered something about heading to the Tower when Steve had left him in bed earlier that morning; whether it had to do with his arm or the physics project he’d been dreaming up during his downtime from homework Steve hadn’t bothered to ask, considering Bucky had already rolled back into his pillow and resumed snoring before he could get the question out.
At any rate, his reason for visiting didn’t matter, really - it had been a couple of weeks since either of them had seen Tony, so Steve wouldn’t mind the opportunity to catch up for a bit, or the distraction from the therapy session that they had scheduled for later that afternoon. While Steve would admit, under duress, that the psychiatrist so far had been relatively helpful in getting his head wrapped around the idea of civilian life, it still didn’t make the sessions an enjoyable experience.
Steve stepped forward in line as an order was called up, shaking the thought off and instead putting on a normal, casual front for the workers at the register.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders a bit as he moved along the deli counter, trying his damndest to take up as little space as possible. Even though his beard had grown in thickly enough that his face was largely unrecognizable, Steve still felt self-conscious anytime he was out in public, constantly waiting for someone to step up to ask for a selfie or question why he’d abandoned the Avengers after Sokovia.
Thankfully he was left alone through the entirety of his wait in line, and already had the paper bag full of food under his arm on his way for the door when he spotted a disturbingly familiar face waiting near the exit. Steve ducked his head, hoping to hide his face behind the brim of his hat, but it seemed to be a second too late - there was a flash of recognition on the reporter’s face, and by the time Steve had made the door he could hear footsteps rushing after him.
“Excuse me! Excuse me… Captain America?”
Steve bit back a curse, momentarily considering denying the guy’s assumption - he and Bucky had been out of the news for long enough that a ‘reported sighting’ wouldn’t make that much of a story anyway, provided he didn’t raise a scene telling the reporter off. He paused in his escape turning deliberately with an intentionally bemused look on his face. “Er, sorry pal - you’ve got the wrong guy.” Steve responded easily, laying his Brooklyn accent on as thickly as possible.
It completely backfired on him.
“Right, of course,” the reporter chuckled, walking up to stand alongside Steve as if he’d been invited. “Captain Rogers, then.” He added smartly, extending a hand. “My name’s John Adamson, I’m a columnist for The Daily Bugle - I was hoping you’d have a minute to answer a couple of questions for me? You’ve been a hard man to get in contact with since the Battle of Sokovia.”
Steve smiled tightly, trying his hardest to keep his stage persona intact. He could probably tell the guy to fuck off if he really wanted to - either Pepper or Hill would doubtlessly take care of the fall-out, but it hardly seemed fair to saddle either of them with extra work, especially for someone who had technically retired from being their responsibility. “It’s just Steve, now - I’ve retired from the team,” he ended up saying instead. “And I’m kinda in a hurry…” he gestured towards the bag under his arm, hoping that it would be enough for the reporter to take a hint.
“Oh, it’ll only be a moment,” Adamson leered. Steve bit the inside of his cheek in frustration but stayed rooted to the spot, waiting for whatever the man had to throw at him. “It’s just - our entertainment section has been getting a lot of interesting anonymous tips of late claiming to have seen you and Bucky Barnes out and about in Brooklyn,” he continued, pulling an iPhone out of his pocket. “We’ve kept from publishing any of them, considering they’re nothing but hearsay so far, but I was hoping that you’d be willing to give a statement regarding the relationship between you and Sergeant Barnes.”
Steve felt like he’d had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head - after a couple of weeks of practicing in the living room of their Brownstone that had taken them both right back to 1935, Steve had finally been confident enough to take Bucky up on his suggestion of going clubbing a couple of times, and had had a surprisingly good time doing so. Being able to spend time being sweet on Buck in public would have been enough, but to be able to do it in so welcoming an environment had damn near made the entire being frozen for seventy years schtick worth it. The idea that people had been selling secrets about some of their most intimate moments to some tabloid rag was enough to make his skin crawl. “Sorry, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” Steve said coldly, turning on his heel and starting in the direction of Avengers Tower again.
“Is there any truth to the rumor that Bucky Barnes is your boyfriend, Cap?”
Steve stopped in his tracks, gnawing on his lip. The second before Adamson had called out to him he’d heard the distinctive tone of the video app being turned on - the bastard had riled him up and was going in for the kill, obviously hoping to get a sound bite out of Steve that would blow up the second he posted it to the Bugle’s twitter account.
He could turn around and tactfully deny it, of course, crush the guy’s chance at taking advantage of such a headline. Or he could turn around and crush Adamson’s actual phone and eliminate all evidence that the ‘interview’ had ever happened, although again, that would just generate negative press that no one needed.
Swallowing down his anger Steve thought of Bucky, and how much he meant to him, and how much he’d been looking forward to surprising him with something as small as lunch to show his appreciation for putting up with Steve’s shit over the past few months.
And hell, he figured, he could do a lot better than a pastrami sandwich.
“Actually,” Steve responded, finally turning around with a coy, calculated smile. “We prefer partners.”
For a second Steve wondered if Adamson was going to asphyxiate on his tongue - the reporter’s eyes bulged as he fumbled with his phone, gaping back and forth between Steve and the screen as if he couldn’t process what was actually happening. Steve gave him one last smile and turned to leave again.
“Er, Captain Rogers, sir… you… you do know what the term partners means, right? I mean, as a colloquialism today.”
It would be so easy, Steve knew, to play the bumbling old codger routine and get himself out of the situation, but Bucky deserved better than that. Hell, he’d made it this far - there was no point in going back now. “I meant it in every sense of the word that matters.” Steve responded earnestly. “Emotionally, romantically... intimately - there’s no one in the world who is more important to me than Bucky Barnes.”
The incredible thing was how much lighter he felt for having said it - Steve gave the camera one final nod, then turned and walked away, not bothering to wait and see if Adamson had any follow-ups for him; he’d already given the guy the story of his career in all likelihood, and besides that he was going to be livid if he made it to the Tower only to find that Bucky had already left.
It wasn’t until he’d asked FRIDAY to take him to whichever lab Stark was in that the enormity of what he’d done really hit Steve; along with the fact that he really, really should have asked Bucky about his wishes, first. Buck didn’t act like he’d been at all ashamed with making his sexuality known of late, but it didn’t change the fact that Steve had just blabbed their biggest secret to the world without getting Bucky’s permission first. He wasn’t ashamed about it, and he sure as hell hoped that Bucky wasn’t either, but it was a pretty shitty thing to have done without giving him a heads up, first.
The elevator door opened to Tony’s main lab, where an enormous projection of Steve’s face was smiling warmly at him, saying the same sound clip on loop. “We prefer the term partners. I mean it in every sense of the world that matters - there’s no one in the world who is more important to me than Bucky Barnes.”
Tony looked up from his workbench with a broad grin, before raising his hands in front of him and beginning to clap ridiculously slowly. “Bravo, Rogers…” he said after a few moments, “I cried, honestly - the love story of the century, finally coming out so poetically. You guys should write a book.”
Steve opened his mouth to tell Tony off when he noticed someone coming at him from his periphery - before he could turn more than a couple of inches Bucky crashed into him at full speed, his metal hand closing roughly around the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Steve gasped as Buck’s right arm pulled them flush together, and immediately found himself with a mouthful of Bucky’s eager tongue, which Steve was all-too-happy to entertain for the time being. At some point during their groping Steve vaguely noticed the sound of a paper bag hitting the floor, but he had no idea how long it was before they parted for air, glassy-eyed and panting as they stared at one another in a daze.
“I meant it in every sense of the word that matters - there’s no one in the world who is more important to me than Bucky Barnes.”
“You know,” Tony’s voice called out, slightly muffled by the enormous bite of pastrami sandwich that he was still chewing. “If you two wanna advance from dry humping, I did leave a guest suite on your old floor. Just… for your information.”
Bucky grinned like a maniac, his eyes bright and hungry and completely trained on Steve’s. “Thanks, Tony - I think I’m gonna have to take you up on that offer for a couple’a hours. To properly show my partner how much I appreciate his big mouth.”
Steve flushed spectacularly, and opened his mouth to try to explain himself, but before he could get a word out Bucky’s lips were on him again, and his hands moved so that they were gripping Steve’s biceps then pushing him eagerly back into the elevator.
There would probably be a hell of a fall-out to deal with later on, a distant part of Steve’s brain supplied, but it was immediately drowned out by the need to focus on reciprocating Bucky’s urgent touches. In the end, they both put the consequences aside for the afternoon, and instead let their actions do the talking for them.