Chapter Text
The pickup truck trundled its way up the winding hill in a slow, easy rattle, carrying the two men inside and all their supplies as best as it could given its age, bringing them to the house upon the hill.
The sea sparkled beneath them, surrounding the quaint little town the house overlooked; the town beneath was like an expanse of little white shells on the beach, pale dots that clustered around the deep, vivacious blue of the beach.
"So," the first man, a scruffy brunette with a smear of engine oil on his cheek called over the rattle of the engine, "you're really making us move here, huh, Steve?"
"You weren't happy in the city, and neither was I," Steve told him, running a hand through his blond hair and sighing. "Gran left me the house in her will, and I certainly wasn't turning down a completely furnished house with all the mortgage paid off already. Not considering we lived in an apartment without a kitchen, Bucky."
"It's not like either of us cooked anyway, but I see your point," Bucky agreed. "No big, Steve. We'll get something set up here; when we were driving up, I noticed they didn't have a mechanic. Might be my chance to set up shop, huh?"
"Here's hoping," Steve said with a laugh. "Not much chance of me making much as an artist no matter where we are, but at least out here I might be inspired. And hey, there's schools, I could teach."
"That's the spirit," Bucky said, satisfied. "So, who's gonna cook tonight, you or me?"
"Eh...how about takeout?" Steve asked as they pulled up to the house, killing the truck engine and taking the keys out of the ignition. Bucky laughed.
"Right, right. We're off to a great start with the kitchen we definitely needed," he teased. Steve glared at him and got out of the truck, grabbing his duffel bags of art supplies before walking up the pathway to the porch.
He had been here before a few times, when he was young; during the summer his parents would let him stay here, and he would live with his grandmother as she taught him how to paint and draw, and tell him stories. It had been peaceful, and Steve had always held fond memories of the place.
It was a bit more weathered than he remembered, the paint a bit chipped, the floorboards a bit creakier, but paint could be re-done and creaky floors were part of the charm.
Besides, there was something special about the house; something comforting and warm about its dusty sweet smells, its high arched walls and multiple bookshelves, coupled with the plush furniture and spacious rooms.
"Well, she must've liked you a lot, to leave you a place like this," Bucky remarked, quirking an eyebrow as he brought their bags in. Steve nodded.
"Yes, she did. I loved her too. I'm glad we got to keep her house; I feel like my parents would just sell it, you know?" Steve said.
"Probably," Bucky agreed. "But that's why we're here, Steve."
"Mhm. You can stay down here; go through the kitchen and see if we can keep any of the food, or if it's all expired. I'll go put our stuff up in the bedrooms; I know where they all are. You want one with a bay window?" Steve asked, grabbing their bags off the floor and heading for the stairs.
"Yeah, sure!" Bucky called back as Steve climbed the steps, heading upstairs.
...
Tony perked up, hearing the sound of footsteps, and immediately frowned. Footsteps in his hallway? Not fair! This was his house now, gran had said!
He huffed, clinging to his scrap of pastry and nibbling with a severe frown creasing his features. Not fair at all. This was his house now; he'd moved in before them. Besides, they were just gonna take all his stuff.
Still, he was a curious creature, and so Tony poked his head out of his little house, the space he had set up behind the dresser in the room for his box, and watched, curious, as the door opened and someone entered his room.
"It's still really nice in here," the man said, crossing the floor and putting his bags down. "Not even dusty yet. Should still open the windows, though..."
He opened the enormous bay windows and let the breeze come in; Tony watched as he smiled and inhaled the sweet spring air, content.
"There we go," the man said, satisfied. "Well, I guess this'll be my room. The view's great from here. No wonder gran used this bedroom!"
Tony yelped in shock. Another man? In his bedroom? He would track dirt everywhere and leave it a mess!
The man tensed, and Tony hid back in his box, cringing.
"Oh? Huh. That's strange; thought I heard something," the man said. "Must've been my imagination."
He paused, before picking up a few of the bags he had put down on the floor. "Should bring these into Bucky's room; he can have the room at the end of the hall, it's pretty big and the floor's hardwood, so all his machines won't mess up the carpet..."
Tony perked up as the man left. Machines? One of them had machines! He could use that, definitely. He just had to be incredibly careful, but then again, people were used to ignoring the things they didn't think they could see.
Tony grinned, cuddling underneath his little scrap of silk. He could do this! He just had to learn more about his new housemates first.
Deciding he would do that later, Tony curled up on his puff of cotton and closed his eyes, going to sleep as the cool breeze whispered over his box. The sun felt good, even if it was so bright...and really, so did the idea of some new housemates. Not that Tony would ever admit that.
...
"You're in the last bedroom on the left," Steve said, making his way downstairs and yawning. "Good with you?"
"Fine by me, yeah," Bucky said, putting the phone down with a click. "Called for takeout, by the way. It'll be here in a half hour."
"You're a lifesaver," Steve said with a grin. "Wanna go get unpacked?"
"Huh? Ah, yeah...I probably should. What're you gonna do?" Bucky asked, going for the stairs.
"Clean up down here," Steve said. "Did you get a list of stuff we needed?"
"Yeah, it's on the fridge!" Bucky called from the top of the stairs.
"All right! Then I'll run for groceries, too!" Steve called back. "We need gas?"
"Yeah," Bucky said, "wallet's on the counter. Fill Buddy up, okay?"
"Got it!" Steve promised, making his way outside and getting into the car, starting the pickup truck up and trundling out of the driveway, slowly ambling down the path and towards town, a few birds trailing along beside him as he drove.
...
Bucky was waiting for him on the porch with big white boxes of sloppy Chinese noodles when he got back; Steve beamed and got out of the car, carrying bags of groceries on both of his broad arms. Bucky waved him over with his chopsticks as he climbed the porch steps.
"Thought we could eat outside tonight," Bucky said. "You up for that?"
"Fine by me," Steve agreed with a smile. "Let me just go put the stuff that needs to go in the freezer inside quick."
He brought the bags inside and put them down, arranging the ice cream and vegetables in the fridge and freezer, putting his favorites on one side, Bucky's on the other. He made his way back outside again and sat down beside Bucky, taking a box of noodles and digging in.
"So, what're you gonna do, Steve?" Bucky asked. "'Bout a job, I mean."
"Well, the bills are paid for a few months, so I'm gonna try to find a gallery and see if I can get my art exhibited," Steve said. "Why don't we go into town tomorrow and try to find a garage you can work at, too?"
"Fine by me," Bucky agreed with a yawn. "I wanna explore this house a bit too, get my shit set up and all. Got a few side projects I'm workin' on."
"That's why you got the room without a rug," Steve said with a grin. Bucky threw a fortune cookie at him, and Steve just laughed, breaking it in half and proffering him one of the pieces.