Chapter Text
Now that Bucky has Steve for reference and knows that Steve can be trusted, he takes to asking him for verification of some of his stranger memories.
He calls his siblings sometimes. They’re always happy to help. But having Steve around so that he can verify the truth of certain memories is turning out to be very useful.
Unfortunately for Steve, Bucky doesn’t always pick the best moments to do it.
“Have we ever had sex?” he asks abruptly, apparently startling Steve, who is making a sandwich at the marble kitchen countertop. And Sam, who’s flicking through television channels, and Stark, who turns his wide eyes away from Banner, who he was in deep conversation with, scotch in hand. Clint raises his eyebrows slightly. Thor, Banner and Natasha don’t seem to care.
Neither does Bucky. He wants to know whose skin he can feel beneath his palms when he has dirty dreams. He thinks he can remember Steve's eyes when he thinks of kissing, but he's not quite sure what's real and what's not anymore when it comes to his memories. Did he have sex with Steve? Or did he just want to? He doesn't know.
So, he asks.
“Excuse me?” Steve asks, voice sounding strangled – and Bucky would know. He can remember strangling a lot of people.
“Sex. I think I can remember us having it,” Bucky explains.
Steve is slowly turning a bright, embarrassed red under the astounded gaze of half the people in the room, and the mostly indifferent gazes of the others. He’s gotten used to clarifying the truth of past events with Bucky lately, but this was nothing like what his friend usually asked. However, he has always strived to rise to the occasion. He clears his throat.
“Yes, we, um. We have,” Steve admits, struggling to keep his voice even and abandoning all attempts at making a sandwich.
“More than once?” Bucky inquires, because he’s remembering a lot more than once.
Steve sighs, seeming to simply accept the fact that this is happening to him, in front of other people.
“Quite a few times, actually,” he replies.
Bucky remains silent for a moment, processing this, before nodding.
“Okay,” he decides, returning to the novel he’s reading, his curiosity slaked for the time being.
“Woah, gossip,” Stark remarks gleefully.
“Nope,” Steve protests stalwartly, crossing his arms defensively. He’s got an expression on his face that says he’s about to be as stubborn as a mule, and that getting more information out of him will be like getting blood from a stone. But Bucky has got to admit that Stark’s progeny is wily and about as annoying as a gnat, so he might just be able to irritate Steve into spilling the beans. Or at least some of them.
Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.
Bucky strains to keep a straight face as Stark gets increasingly jubilant, while Steve gets more and more flustered.
He’s still working on the whole “sense of humour” thing, but he’s pretty sure the old him would’ve enjoyed Steve’s blushing bumbling self just as much as he’s enjoying it now.
Bucky wouldn’t normally tease Steve in front of other people, but these people seem okay. At least they’re all messed up too. If not more, then equally. It’s a comforting thought.
He catches Natasha’s eye and winks, to which she replies with a slight quirk of her lips – on her, an outright smirk.
Meanwhile, Steve and Stark have devolved to yelling, Bruce is sighing the sigh of the put-upon, Sam is rolling his eyes, Clint’s head is snapping back and forth (like a child who’s watching his parent’s bicker and loving it), Thor now seems confused and mildly concerned, Pepper enters the room and sighs (but otherwise doesn’t seem to care) and all is mostly alright with the world.
Bucky returns to his book, satisfied.