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It was dark when he woke up sweating, and he scrambled to turn on his bedside lamp. He checked his phone and swore, because, yes, even he knew that a 2:57 AM phone call would be ridiculous. Even though he knew Natasha would answer. She deserved some sleep, at least one night where she didn’t have to talk Bucky’s ass down from a nightmare.
After laying in bed, willing his heart rate to slow the fuck down, for an embarrassing length of time, he resigned himself to getting up. He washed his face in the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Because it was clear he wouldn’t be going back to sleep.
Bucky leaned back against the counter and slowly sipped at his drink.
A roadside bomb killed 5 out of 7 of his closest friends in the army. The only reason Bucky and the other two survived was because they were late and missed the first truck. One of the survivors was still serving. The other dropped off the face of the planet and moved around from, as far as Bucky could tell from the few letters he’d received, Germany, Tunisia, and Bolivia. Bucky was left fucked up with only Natasha to talk to, and there was only so much he’d let himself put on her.
Fucking nightmares, they always left him shaking and jumpy. He wished there was whiskey in the coffee.
He looked up, and, okay, there was a face outside of his window. After a second, he realized that the face was from the apartment complex next to his. Mildly less creepy, but still.
Blondie had a broken nose and his own cup of coffee.
The two idiots stood staring at each other for longer than what was probably normal. Blondie raised his mug and nodded at him. Bucky did the same.
——
The second time it happened was entirely accidental. In fact, Bucky had forgotten about the ordeal altogether.
“How the fuck do you fold batter,” Bucky said, glaring at the recipe shown on his laptop. Natasha, helpful as ever, was sitting on the counter with a glass of wine in her hand. Far enough away not to get any of the mess Bucky made on her, but close enough to throw flour at him.
“Don’t stir it, and you’ll probably be fine,”
“ ‘Make Russian Tea Cakes’ you said, ‘they’ll be easy’ you said,” he mumbled as he more or less stabbed at the bowl of batter with a spatula.
“You asked what I wanted as my birthday cake.” Natasha said.
“Right, it makes sense that you’d want to see me suffer.”
“An added bonus,” she said, smiling, and Bucky rolled his eyes. Approximately mid-eye roll, he made eye contact with the same blond dude from 3AM. Except it was barely 5PM, and the lighting was much better, and the dude was much nicer to look at than previously thought. Lots of muscle. That too tight shirt was sinful.
Bucky noticed his cheekbones. Bucky didn’t used to be the person to notice cheekbones.
The man waved, and, fuck, he was smiling, too. Bucky waved back, forgetting the spatula was in his hand and almost dropping it. Blondie looked like he was laughing at that. He found it in himself to smile at the pretty man as opposed to combusting into flames.
“Who’s that?” Nat asked, thankfully when the man was walking away from his window.
“New neighbor.” Because he had to have been new. He would have noticed that underwear model if he’d been living there for a while.
Natasha made a sound, and Bucky knew he’d likely get teased about it all later.
——
Living in New York City, he knew there would always be sound coming from the streets below. That was fine. Actually, most days, that was great, because white noise was one of his best friends. But, that morning, the non-stop emergency vehicles, and what had to have been continuous honking for at least seven minutes straight was too much. Not the too much where he flipped out and lost all remnants of chill he might’ve had, but the too much where he was up at 7AM and, as much as he tried, could not go back to sleep. Which was the only reason why he was rolling out of bed at 8AM.
He loved the city, he really did. But sometimes he wanted to punch the city in the throat.
While he waited for the coffee to brew, he tied his hair back and alternated between rubbing his face with his hands and counting the tiles on the floor. He got to 37 before the coffee machine beeped and pulled him from his thoughts. When he looked up, his eyes caught on the blond man again. That time, however, the man had a mouthful of what looked like a muffin in his mouth, and he froze mid-bite when he saw Bucky looking at him. Bucky laughed before he could stop himself, and then Blondie looked like he was laughing, except it was around a mouthful of food, and he covered his mouth with his hand.
Blondie’s eyes were blue. Bucky was fucked.
After a moment, the man smiled properly and waved. Bucky returned the wave. Neither of them really moved for a few seconds, until Bucky stepped away to get a coffee mug from his cabinet.
When he stood in front of the window again, the man was gone.
If he was slightly disappointed at that, well, no one had to know.
And no one had to know if he scooted his coffee maker to be more centered in front of the window, either.
——
New York’s winter was cold as shit. He preferred it much more than the heat in the summer, but still. The wind was harsh and unforgiving, and he regretted making the trip to Natasha’s apartment in the first place. One plus to colder weather: people didn’t often go outside unless they had to. Which meant there were (barely) fewer people to bump into his shoulders.
The universe tested his patience, however, when it started to snow. He contemplated ducking into a store to buy a hat.
He was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the opposite light to turn green, when he saw it. More particularly, him.
The Hot Neighbor From The Window was in the taxi stopped at the light next to him. Furthermore, he was already looking at Bucky with a somewhat surprised look on his face. He smiled when Bucky’s eyes landed on him.
And then he rolled down the window. The taxi driver yelled at him, Bucky heard that, and Steve turned to quietly placate them. Bucky did not have the privilege to hear that.
The taxi sped away as Blondie was opening his mouth.
People pushed into him as he stood shocked in the middle of the sidewalk.
——
If asked what he did that night, he’d say he crashed on the couch after microwaving a few slices of stale pizza.
He wouldn’t say he spent an abnormally long time making dinner and standing in front of the window. Because that would be stupid and mean he was somehow invested in the whole window affair. Which he wasn’t.
——
It happened again (finally) when he was cleaning out his coffee machine.
Blondie was at the window, and his usual surprise upon seeing him was replaced with a small smile.
Bucky, surprised as fuck, dropped the coffee pot in the sink. (It didn’t break, thank fuck. One less thing he had to worry about.) The man held up one finger before darting away, so Bucky waited.
What if Blondie came back with a knife, turned out to be some notorious serial killer. Even worse, what if he held up a restraining order. (Hello, Judge, yes, my life has been ruined by a punk. I’ve resorted to avoiding my kitchen window at all costs. The man must be stopped.)
His thoughts stopped when the man came back with a sharpie and a piece of notebook paper. The dude looked at Bucky once before scrawling something on the paper.
Steve.
That wasn’t what he expected. Steve. Okay. Once he regained his senses, Bucky grabbed a pencil and a napkin.
Bucky
And, fuck, the man- Steve- smiled.
——
If Bucky set a thick sharpie and a yellow legal pad next to the window, well, that was a perfectly linear progression of events. Probably.
——
The last thing Bucky wanted was for 3AM coffee to become routine for him. So he made hot chocolate instead.
He dared anyone to give him shit about drinking his drink while sitting on the counter facing the window. He was ready to fight. Granted, the only one who would possibly give him shit was Natasha, but she knew what he was like on a bad night. When he woke up in a cold sweat, itching for something stronger than coffee, wanting nothing more than to sleep without dreaming.
The drink was drained slowly. Bucky thought about making another cup when he heard the distinct sound of tapping on glass. And there was Steve, holding up a piece of printer paper.
You okay?
Bucky flipped on the kitchen light at that point and grabbed the paper and marker before settling back on the counter.
Can’t sleep
That got a nod of understanding from Steve. Bucky had a lot of questions, none of which he thought appropriate to ask. How’d he know he was fucked up, namely. Instead, he decided to at least show he was capable of basic conversation.
You?
Steve smiled tiredly.
My dog needed to go out.
Dog?!
It made Bucky happier than he cared to admit that Steve’s smile was a wide, toothy grin. Once again, he held up a single finger. Like Bucky would be going anywhere for the foreseeable future.
Steve was holding a big dog when he came back. Like, huge, scooping it up and smiling proudly. The dog was brown and probably a mutt, and Bucky wanted to pet it. He shot him a thumbs up, and Steve put the dog back down.
Name?
Buttons.
That made Bucky arch an eyebrow at him.
She was small at one point, and I didn’t think it through.
Bucky smiled, nodded, and began to make more hot chocolate.
Job?
Bucky chuckled and shook his head.
Zero consequences to being up at 3AM
That got Steve smiling again. Bucky pointed a finger at him with raised eyebrows, and Steve nodded.
Not working tomorrow.
Where
Art gallery on 52nd.
Bucky nodded a few times.
That was how they stayed for the next half hour, writing back and forth about what-the-hell-ever. They talked about the new Star Trek movie, how neither had ever seen it but had to admit it looked cool as shit. He found out that Steve’s nose was, in fact, broken that first night. Apparently, he was a little shit who got into a fight because some tool was being rude in a club. Bucky’s brain function sort of tanked at the thought of Steve in a club, but it was whatever. Steve asked what kind of parents named their kid Bucky. He explained his middle name was Buchanan, (What kind of middle name is that???), there had been three kids named James in his elementary school class, and he didn’t want to make the teacher’s life that difficult.
They talked or whatever right up until Steve yawned three times in a row. Bucky made up some excuse about how he himself was tired, goodnight, thanks for the 3AM distraction.
Steve replied with an earnest smile and Of course, anytime. Night, Bucky.
And, well. Bucky should have been given credit for at least trying to sleep after that.
——
He didn’t see Steve again for three days, and he began to think that maybe he’d crossed a line that last night. He hoped he didn’t.
He really hoped he didn’t.
The whole thing with Steve was good. Steve was nice to look at, genuinely nicer to talk to, and Bucky found himself looking forward to standing in front of his window. It was fun, and he thought he deserved something fun in his life.
As a pick-me-up, he decided to get some decent coffee. He also had to get one for Natasha, because he was on his way over there, and she’d throw something at him if he didn’t. Or she’d let her demon-cat kill him once and for all. That was a possibility.
After ordering, he stood toward the front of the shop and waited. Something running past the window, though, caught his attention. It was Steve, because maybe the universe felt exceptionally kind that day, who almost fell over when his eyes met Bucky’s. He was surprised, and he looked vaguely pissed off before that was replaced with one of those smiles that would eventually kill Bucky. After a moment, Steve walked into the store.
Steve was taller than he thought he would be. He was also out of breath, panting and poorly trying to cover it up. Bucky’s eyes were wide, because it was Steve, and there weren’t five feet and two panes of glass between them.
“Hi,” Steve said quickly. His voice was calming, and Bucky wanted to do sinful things to that mouth, but he also wanted to just listen to him talk, and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that. “Hi, I am really late to a meeting, but I wanted to say hi.”
“Hey,” he said, more surprised than not, if he was being totally honest, at the whole situation.
“Hi,” Steve said, again.
“Meeting?” Bucky said, glancing at the door.
“Right, yeah. Sorry-“
“You’re fine,“ Because he was.
“It was nice to see you,” he said.
“You, too,” Bucky said, nodding. Steve hadn’t stopped smiling throughout the entire exchange, and Bucky was sort of a mess for it.
“I’ll see you around, probably? I mean, the window, and- Okay, I really need to leave.” Steve rambled, looking down at his watch.
“Okay,” he said with a laugh.
“Bye, I’ll see you later,” he said as he started walking to the door.
“Bye,” Bucky said, and Steve’s grin somehow got wider, and then he was out the door.
That man was ridiculous, and it was fucking endearing.
——
Bucky was proud to say that he woke up peacefully at 9AM, and all was right with the world. All was fucking fantastic with the world, because he’d met Steve, and he caught himself smiling at nothing. Natasha, when she inevitably found out, because Bucky couldn’t stop grinning for two minutes after meeting Steve, hadn’t teased him about it. She smirked and told him to get some. It was very kind of her.
The usual surprise that came along with seeing Steve through his window wasn’t there that morning, either. Instead, Bucky smiled and waved. Steve returned the gesture with a spoon in his hand.
Bucky held up two coffee mugs and tried to smile in the most reassuring, non-creepy, inviting way he could muster. (It wasn’t much.)
Steve beamed and nodded quickly, giving him a thumbs up.