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It’s harder to be inconspicuous around the others.
Tony says, “well, Cap, your boy did pretty well considering he’s new. No- I’m not mad that he made it through my state-of-the-art training program on the first try; just concerned. What do they feed you Russian assassins?” He glares accusingly at Natasha, who gives him a shark-like smile.
Steve is so hung up on ‘your boy’ that he doesn’t remember to remind Tony that Bucky is from Brooklyn, thank you very much.
“I mean, I know he’s got the whole robo-arm happening- you still have to convince him to let me build him a better one, by the way- but come on. I go in there in a damn robo-suit and, okay, you know what? We’re pretending we all did this good on the first try. In fact, I did better. Here he comes, get ready to-“
“You beat the high score,” Clint calls out.
“Well, we haven’t factored in all the–ahem, details, and such, so don’t count on that just yet.” Tony sends a withering glare Clint’s way and mutters ‘traitor.’ Natasha is laughing under her breath.
Bucky shrugs. Eventually, Steve thinks maybe he’ll be comfortable and adjusted enough to life in the tower to the point where he’ll be able to rib Tony about needing to up his game, or whatever it is the kids are saying nowadays. For now, though, he just slings a towel around his neck and heads off to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water.
“Noticed you're still letting your arm take a beating,” Sam says, following Bucky into the kitchen. He sits at the island and smiles. “I know it doesn’t break easily, but I’d be willing to bet that it doesn’t feel too good on your shoulder.”
Bucky shrugs yet again, still drinking.
“Staring, Cap, my word,” Tony says under his breath. His voice is smug, and he’s smirking like he knows something.
Steve doesn’t blush- he’s got plenty of practice not blushing- and shakes his head. “How does the new outfit test out?” He asks, maybe a little louder than he needs to. Tony is just being Tony, and the whole queer thing seems to be okay to joke about now, but it still worries Steve.
Bucky finishes his glass and leans back against the counter. “Breathes well,” he says. “A little less flexible.”
“That’s because you’ve got armor now,” Tony supplies. “I mean, I could probably make it move a little better- I’m me, of course- but that’s pretty moveable considering the amount of protection I build in. Compared to your old rags, this thing’s a tank.”
Bucky makes a face that reads ‘why the fuck would I need a tank?’ but he predictably doesn’t say anything. Clint laughs regardless.
“Banner’s the only one of us who needs the silly-putty flex anyway,” Tony reasons. “Speaking of which, where is the good doctor?”
“Teaching Wanda meditation,” Sam supplies. He’s doing something on his phone- not lounging on the couch, cleaning and cooing over weapons like Natasha and Clint are. “Downstairs.”
“Sounds like they could use a distraction.” He turns on his heel and heads for the elevator. “Jarvis, take me to the poor dears, will you?”
“Of course, sir.”
The elevator closes soundlessly behind Tony.
Bucky shakes his head.
“I know, right?” Sam grins up from his phone. “Takes a while to get used to Jarvis.”
Steve heads over to the kitchen island and sits beside Sam. “I like Jarvis,” he says.
“Didn’t say I didn’t like him- just that it takes some getting used to.”
“He’s easier to get used to than Stark,” Bucky says. There’s a hint of a grin in the corner of his mouth.
Steve zeros in on that almost-smile and feels his heart melt.
“I’m gonna shower,” Bucky says, because he’s allowed to do that, now, whenever he wants, and he takes advantage of it often. He looks up at Steve and nods his head in a gesture to follow, so Steve stands and starts towards the elevator with him.
“You boys behave yourselves,” Natasha calls.
Steve does pink this time.
They don’t know, he tells himself. They don’t.
“Do you think Jarvis knows?” Bucky asks. They’re lying in bed together, touching at their sides–peaceful and tired after a long day of training exercises.
Steve cracks open an eye. “Knows?”
“About us.”
Steve considers it. “There’s… not much that Jarvis doesn’t know,” he says.
“We haven’t gotten in trouble yet.”
“There’s a lot of, well… morally gray things that go on in the Tower,” Steve reasons. “Maybe he’s supposed to keep quiet about things like that.”
“Morally gray?” Bucky grins.
Steve fights back a smile as he shrugs.
Bucky rolls over and pins Steve to the bed, sloppily kissing Steve’s mouth. “I’ll show you morally black here’n a second when you’re calling God’s name while sinning like the devil.”
Steve flushes despite himself and mutters, “I really hope Jarvis didn’t hear that.”
Steve goes out shopping with Natasha sometimes. She’s in charge of making sure he doesn’t dress like an old man and aiding in helping him avoid the paparazzi. She buys things for herself, too, and likes his opinions on what clothes she’s going to get since women’s fashion is taking a turn back to the 40s.
“Do you think Bucky will enjoy you in these?” She holds up an American flag… thing. Panties, maybe. For men. She waggles her eyebrows and suppresses a small grin.
“Is that even legal?” Steve avoids her insinuation in favor of being baffled by the things they’ll print the flag on.
“It’s very patriotic,” she drawls. “Clint would say that one should stand for the flag.”
Steve gives her a long, dry look.
“I’ll take that as a no, then?” She’s still grinning.
“Put it back.”
“Fine, fine.” She does, but slowly- drawn out, forcing them to linger. “Poor James.”
“Why would he care?” he grouses.
She just raises an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t know what that means, but he doesn’t like it. Not in the least.
Vision tries to cook and fails. Bucky rolls his eyes and mutters something in Russian that Natasha and Clint snicker at before getting up and demanding to be allowed to “fix this mess.” He cooks quickly, still shaking his head and muttering about how something so simple could have gone so wrong- the exact picture of his late mother.
“A clove, not a bulb!” Steve calls out, suddenly arrested by a memory.
At first Bucky’s face twists in confusion. He must remember because his expression clears, and he says, “The instructions’re unclear, Ma.”
“This is too expensive not to eat,” Steve laughs. “Eat your fire, James.”
“S' gross, Ma, I’ll getcha some more garlic, I swear.”
“James, you eat that fire, or-“
Bucky raises his voice a pitch, making it girly and silly. “Oh, Miss Barnes, don’t make Buck eat nothin’, I’m that one that read it wrong.” He makes his voice deep and angry again. “Oh, hush, Steve, you lil’ angel, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”
“Ma, he’s the one who said a whole bulb! Make him eat fire- maybe he’ll bulk up.” He mocks Bucky’s voice by drawing it out and sounding almost drunken. Bucky’s smile grows wider.
“Both of you’ll eat it,” Bucky decides, imitating his mother. “Don’t know how ya’ boys manage to make a mess of such simple stuff, I swear,” he does the hand-by-the ear-shake that his mother used to do, and says, “Ba!”
Steve snickers.
Vision, who’d drifted into the chair next to Steve, mutters, “My cooking may be terrible, but at least it’s not as bad as your flirting.”
Steve sends him a surprised look and says, “We were just-“
He waves a hand as if to push his past comment away. “I can’t wait to see what he makes,” he says loudly enough for Bucky to hear.
Steve can’t help but grin and say, “A damn mess.” At the same time as Bucky- both of them remember what his mom had always used to say. “That’s what he’ll make.”
Clint continues to try to teach Steve how to play video games because apparently, everyone should know how to play Mario Cart. Steve still doesn’t really get it, but it’s fun and silly, and he kind of likes their ‘training sessions.'
“So, seeing as I’m in first again, would you mind telling me what losing feels like?” Clint grins and easily takes an even further lead with a mushroom and a shortcut through the grass.
“You’ll know here in a second,” Steve lets a blue shell fly.
“Sonofa-“
“I think it was you who told me blue shells are just desserts.”
Clint sighs as his cart drops back into fifth. “Honestly? This is just painful.”
“On your left.” Steve passes him up with a grin.
“Can’t believe it. Stabbed in the back by mister pure-heart himself. Don’t you love me, Steve?” He grabs a power-up and chuckles as red shells appear on his screen. “Don’t you?” He starts to send them off after Steve (aka Princess Peach). “Steve. Steve, man.”
“Thanks,” Steve says dryly as he’s hit. Twice.
“I’m winking. Just so you know.”
Steve just keeps going. Maybe for once, he’ll beat Clint. Maybe, maybe, if he gets another blue shell.
“Pssh. If I was Bucky you’d wink back. Stab me in the heart, why don’t you?”
Steve nearly falls off a mushroom and into the gorge. “Excuse me?”
“I said, stab me in the heart, why don’t you? I- It’s an expression, I’m not asking you to murder me or anything, Grandpa.” Clint (aka Mario- that fucker) races past the finish line. First, again, miraculously. He had to be cheating. Can you cheat at Mario Cart?
“You and Natasha and your crazy death expressions.”
“Hey, just be glad Natasha isn’t actually here right now. She’d have killed you for that blue shell thing, you know. She plays to win.”
“She’s the turtle thing, right?”
“Bowser? Steve, I know you were a popsicle for a while, but really? A turtle?”
“Wanda is that lizard one. I can’t keep up with these things, Clint.”
“Yoshi, Steve. And that Gorilla that Thor likes? Donkey Kong. That’s… close to your era.”
“I’ll stick to Peach. That name makes sense. And Daisy. That’s a regular name. Not- Donkey Clogs, or whatever.” He laughs, knowing that’s not right, and can’t help but smile when Clint loses it.
The cup ends, and, as usual, Clint is in first. Steve gets third, though, which is a start.
“Hey, look who’s catching up?” Clint turns and winks.
Steve rolls his eyes.
“There you go again, ignoring my winks. Gonna start carrying around a picture of the Winter Soldier to flash at you so that you’ll wink back, Cap.”
“Why would I wink at that?” He starts to put his controller away because he’s polite- not because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with Clint.
“Cuz, you know,” he says, like that was any answer at all. “It’s Bucky.”
“Can’t really say I do know.” He makes his way out of the room and wonders why they all do it. Maybe if the jokes were about him and, well, anyone else, he wouldn’t be so concerned about them. But they always mention him and Buck specifically; like maybe they suspect something.
He’s probably being paranoid. If they really did suspect something, good friends though they may be, someone would have said something by now. Right?
“What do you think about french fries?”
Steve blinks at him. This… isn’t pillow talk. “French fries?”
He nods. “You know. Like, fast food. Well, actually, think they have ‘em at regular restaurants. Serve ‘em with burgers.”
“They’re just deep-fried slices of potatoes, right? Like, same one's we've had since the forties? We’re thinking of the same thing?”
A nod.
“… They’re just as good as they've ever been, I guess.”
“Real fucking good.” He turns, eyes intense. “Steve. I would suck dick for french fries. They’re so damn good. The ones from that- that one fast food place, with the M? They’re the best. They gotta lace the salt with crack or something. Pal- Stop. Stop laughing at me. I would!”
Steve covers his face as he continues to laugh. “You-You’d suck a dick for sliced potatoes?”
“You heard me!”
“I mean, they’re good, but Buck-“
“I’d deep-throat a dick for fries, Steve. They’re so good. Steve. Stevie.”
“I mean if that’s your way of saying you want me to go get some-“
“After I blow you.”
“-after you blow me, that can be arranged. But really?”
“You should blow a guy for fries. They’re damn good, Steve.”
“Well, I mean, if you insist- but Buck, it’s one in the morning-“
“Don’t care.” He slides down to the edge of the bed, grinning. “It’s the future, Stevie. Nothing’s ever closed. Get up- no, not you, your dick, idiot. I’ve got some fries to earn. And don’t be so loud this time. Before we know it, Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.”
Breakfast at the tower after a night out is usually pretty desolate. Most of the team doesn’t bother getting up until lunch. Steve doesn’t get hung over, though, and some people have strict health schedules to keep.
“So.”
Steve looks up from his cereal in question.
“James can get hung over?”
Steve grins. “A little. He’s just being lazy today.”
“Couldn’t get him out of bed?” Banner smiles, innocent.
Steve feels like he’s stepping into a minefield. “Bucky’s always liked to sleep in.”
“I see,” he nods. “Serum didn’t change that?”
“Not really.” Maybe it’s okay.
“I read that you slept a little less after the serum. Is it the same for him?”
“I… wouldn’t know?” He hears the question mark in his tone and winces. He can’t tell if Bruce is joking or just understands that their friendship runs close enough that he can ask these things without implying anything.
He nods. “Hm. Well, if his sleep schedule changes or fluctuates, maybe mention talking to me. I’ve told him myself, but he probably wouldn’t notice the changes like you would.”
Steve decides that Banner’s poker face is something to be praised. He hurries to finish his cereal and get the hell out of dodge before he can be lured into saying anything incriminating.
“I wish I could kiss you in public,” Bucky says randomly while they’re cleaning up after lunch.
Steve looks up at him with slightly widened eyes. “Huh?”
“Wish I could kiss ya’ while other people’r lookin’,” he grumbles. “That’s all.”
Steve just smiles and shakes his head. “You can kiss me right now if you want.”
Bucky stops wiping down the table as if to consider it. After a second, he says, “yeah, alright,” and lurches over the table to grab Steve by the collar.
Steve can’t get his hands in Bucky’s hair fast enough. He just hopes they can make it to a bedroom in case someone should decide to pay their floor a visit. Because even if they could kiss in front of other people, Steve’s pretty sure they’re about to be doing some things Buck wouldn’t want anyone to lay eyes on but the two of them.
(They make it to Bucky’s bedroom. Barely.)
“This computer stuff is actually hard,” Steve groans. “All grandpa jokes aside.”
“Not the only thing that’s hard,” Wanda sniggers.
Steve doesn’t get it. “Just show me how to put a password on my email, kid.”
“I did! You just weren’t paying attention.”
He puts his hands over his eyes and groans. “You showed Bucky how to boot a Macintosh as a Windows three times. Why do I only get one tutorial when my request is so much easier?”
“Bucky didn’t leave room for negotiation.”
“I’m sure,” Steve snorts. “Bucky will beg before you even ask him to.”
Wanda grins. “Oh, I’m sure.”
Steve gives her an odd look. “Can you just get on with it? Before I die of old age?”
“That’s what Bucky said,” her grin is wicked.
Steve gives up and leaves before she can re-open the settings menu.
“Didn’t you get my email about this?”
Steve jogs at a respectable pace next to Sam. “Email?” he says. “What’s that? Some kind of. Some kind of future hologram thing?” He grins as Sam groans.
“Man, come on. Do I have to print these things out and physically mail them to you?”
“That would be nice.”
“Well, I don’t have the time, and you’ve got to get used to the present,” Sam says firmly. “All I’m saying is that you should come down and join us at the VA sometimes. You and Barnes.”
“I’m not sure he’d be super comfortable in a room full of strangers,” Steve says.
“We’ve got couples therapy, maybe you guys could try that.”
Steve rolls his eyes like he knows he’s supposed to. It’s a joke–just a joke, and he gets it, ha ha; he loves James Buchanan Barnes, alright! It’s a dig that’s way too close to home for comfort, and the blank-faced looks and lack of laughter make it feel like they’re probing.
He decides he’ll have to be a little more careful whenever he and Buck are in the same room. It’s hard, but it’s always been that way, and they’re friends with people who pry for dirt and old secrets for a living now.
They’ll make it work. Somehow.
“Remember Dottie?” Bucky asks. They’re folding laundry on Steve’s bed. It’s as domestic as they can get nowadays, and Steve finds he really does love moments like these.
He throws Bucky a pair of sweats. “Dottie Brown or Dottie Jones?”
“Uh. The Blond.”
“Jones.”
“Well, clearly, you remember her more than me,” Bucky laughs.
“What about her?”
“She was a damn good dancer. Kinda miss her.”
Steve smiles, thinking back on it. “Yeah. She was. She’d be…”
“Pushing a hundred,” Bucky nods.
Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, Buck.”
He shrugs. “It’s alright. 'Sides,” he smiles a little. “Got someone else to take dancing, now. Even if he’s got two left feet, I’ll make a proper date outta’ him yet.”
Steve laughs a little. “Yeah. Maybe one day you can take me dancing. Who knows?”
“It’s the future,” Bucky shrugs. “One day.”
“Yeah. One day.”
Thor comes around every now and then. During a party they’ve all cleaned up a little for, they sit at the bar–probably the only two sober people in the room. Steve stays engaged in conversation with Thor as the god talks about Jane, who is in London doing some spectacular science things Steve doesn’t understand at all, and even finds himself having a good time.
It doesn’t stop him from glancing over to where Bucky and Natasha have become chummy Russian-speaking best friends every now and then. Natasha can get very handsy when she’s really, truly drunk and when it’s just the team, she actually does. Steve’s not the jealous type at all, and he trusts Bucky, but he likes to check up to make sure everything is still okay. Bucky keeps laughing, too, and he can’t help but watch. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world.
“You must be very glad to have Sergeant Barnes back with you, yes?”
Steve smiles easily. “Yeah. Really missed him.”
“As I miss Jane. It is difficult to imagine how strong your longing must have been these long years,” he nods sagely. “Truly, your bed must have felt cold.”
Steve turns, eyebrows quirked. The others, he gets- the jokes are part of the time’s culture. People in the future joke about this sort of stuff. But it doesn’t seem like an Asgardian thing in the least. “Pardon?”
“Without your lover, the nights do feel colder, do they not? Colder and longer.”
“Bu- I. I’m. We-“ He swallows, looking around the room to make sure no one else has heard. He’s confused. “Is…? You must be mistaken. W- is this? Um. Is-“
Thor tilts his head in confusion. “Are you well, friend?”
“Yes. Um.” He lowers his voice. “Are… two men allowed to, uh, be in… a relationship? In Asgard?”
Thor’s laugh bellows throughout the room like thunder. He grasps his stomach and, oblivious to Steve’s nervousness, claps a hand down on the counter. “You jest!” he cries. “Surely you jest.”
“I’m serious,” Steve whispers.
Thor’s laughter dies out as he gradually realizes Steve is serious. “But of course,” he says, eventually. He sounds confused. “Men lie with men, women lie with women. It matters not. I had thought it was the same of this world. Have I been misinformed?”
“What- why did you think that?”
“Why, Jane asked me at one point to partake in a parade of pride for such things. Her friend Darcy, daughter of Lewis- she was with another woman at the time, I believe. Due to conflict in the nine realms, I was unfortunately forced to decline. Surely if there is a parade…” he trails off.
“M-Maybe it’s a London thing,” Steve chokes.
He shakes his head. “Nay, friend, this was before they left for London.”
Steve can’t believe it. Without thinking, he says, “Jarvis?”
“Yes, sir?”
People are staring at them now, curious as to why he’s calling for the AI. He doesn’t care.
“What’s, um… can guys-“
“Is same-sex union sanctioned in the United States, Sir Jarvis?” Thor helps.
“As of 2016, gay marriage is legal in all fifty states of the United States of America.”
Steve sits gaping on his bar stool.
They hadn’t been joking. All the other members of the team- they’d really thought…
He locks eyes with Bucky across the room. Everyone is watching, clearly baffled as to what’s happening. The music fades in the background and Steve watches as it suddenly hits Bucky- what Jarvis just said.
How could they not have known? They’ve been hiding- all year, wrapped up in their little bubble. Never watching the news or surfing the web, but how? How could they have missed this?
Why did no one tell them?
We can get married. He realizes with a jolt. The thought sends a sudden rush of heat through him as his head goes light with giddiness. We can get married. His heart swells in his chest, and he finds himself standing, eyes glossy. He feels light. He feels drunk. He feels right. We can get married!
“We can get married!” he shouts out loud- excited and beaming with joy like he’s just a kid again, and Santa’s come and left his stocking full with one huge wonderful orange.
Bucky drops his glass and it shatters, but no one seems to care. He meets Steve in a couple of steps, and suddenly, they’re kissing, laughing, swinging around the room. Everyone is making noises at them, and Wanda and Clint yell, “get a room!” It really doesn’t matter, though.
“We can get married,” Steve murmurs against Bucky’s lips. “Buck. We–we can get married.”
“Thought we already were,” Bucky teases, pulling on Steve’s dog tags. He looks soft and happy-more than Steve’s seen him look since they grew up. It’s like the world is young and innocent, and they’re just happy kids with big dreams again.
“You really didn’t know?” Tony practically yells. “I mean, we all-literally all of us, even- even Clint knows, and Clint’s, well, Clint-“
“You wanna go, Tony?”
“-We all knew about you two,” Tony finishes. “You guys really didn’t…?”
“Forties, Stark.” Bucky laughs. He’s still holding Steve. They should be embarrassed, but somehow, they’re not.
“All jokes aside,” Natasha says, grinning, “when’s the wedding?”