Work Text:
“i’ve seen your dick” is what breaks the silence that befell you and bucky, during training, a few minutes before. you weren't sure what you'd said, which part of it made his face scrunch. in that way most find intimidating. the way you've learned means he has something to say, that he needs a moment to find the words before he can share the thought.
wracking your brain, you can't think of a single thing you'd said that warranted that as a question. because it was a question. despite the phrasing, despite how objectively he'd said it, you know james barnes well enough to know that was a question.
not that you can fathom what he's trying to ask.
"yeah" it's punched out. bewildered.
because bucky has.
in the locker room showers, after missions. why it's relevant is beyond you.
"so you were a boy." he says flat. like it should give you any clarity as to what he means. he's frustrated when it doesn't.
"i'm a guy, yeah."
"well, obviously- like as a kid though. you said when you were a little girl."
"oh." is all you can think to say.
"oh?"
"yeah, i mean, like. i was- i, like" you fumble over your words for a moment, entirely caught off guard. "i am trans. you know this."
he does. he should. he has to.
everyone knows. most people that work with you know, at least. you've never seen the point in hiding it. people your close with know, like sam obviously. but even those you aren't close to. there aren't that many trans men in your line of work.
despite all that, he has that scrunched up face again. "you're a transmission engineer"
he knows he's wrong before he says it.
you go on assignments just like him, but bucky can't stop it once the words start falling out. he knows he should've admitted that, while yes, he's heard that your trans. it's been mentioned in passing around him maybe less than a handful of times in the years he's known you, but he's definitely heard it. bucky's never put any thought to what it means. bucky knows he should've just waited for you to explain. it was a stab in the dark that you will make fun of him for.
"christ," your voice come out louder than expected, almost in a barked out laugh. "you're so old." it's always about how old he is with you."that is not a thing."
bucky gives a noncommittal, but an obligatory, "it is."which might be true.
"james." but your getting away from the point. "you have seen my dick, yes. i was not born with it."
which gives him pause.
his lips press together. slowly he nods, not quite meeting your gaze.
you tease and rib bucky a bit more. because he's old. because he's clueless. because he clearly wants to say something else but doesn't. he lets the conversation die out.
for the moment.
there's a few follow up questions.
they range. but mostly it's just some basic trans stuff (does it work the other way?) or asking about your personal experience (how did you know?). all in the awkward way he does. how bucky asks half a question before bailing, deciding his instinct was right. it's too personal.
you answer. because you veer a little closer to friends friends rather than just work friends. you answer as best you can for the general stuff, not bothering with too many details for the personal. bucky already seems so far out of his depth asking, and you'd rather he asked than got weird. so kept most answers concise as a middle ground with yourself, allowing yourself to toy with him on some of the more out there questions.
one of the first ones was;
"did you get," he waved his hand in front of his chest. he didn't finish the question. didn't appreciate your, "you asking me to take my shirt off, buck?" either.
there'd been a few others. questions he started asking before his brain caught up with him. always in casual conversation, when you catch each other in the dull moments. always like he didn't know what he was about to say, before he said it.
you're favorite, the best one, the current one started just like that.
it was in one of those dull moments. the ones after your last assignment was over, and everyone is answered to. during transport when you're sore and irritated from all that adrenaline your body stubbornly holds into. your eyes are closed, your head is leaned back against the metal siding of the hanger. it isn't comfortable, but you've had worse.
you can feel him staring.
"what."
he's quiet.
"bucky"
when you push yourself up, when you look at him, he's looking down at his hands. avoiding looking at you.
face scrunched.
"what is it."
bucky spits it out. slowly. each word reluctant. "does it work?"
"does what work?"
there's a specific flavor of regret bucky's become well acquatinted with over the past few weeks. you've gotten good at spotting it.
you can't help huff out a laugh. "does everything always start and end with my dick, with you"
it's more an observation than a question.
"what?"
"you seem to think about it a lot." you're pushing it. teasing him isn't necessary.
"i don't." his hand, the flesh one, twitches.
"no?"
"no." face steeled, he focuses on something on the other side of the hanger.
and you should let it drop there.
you don't."so, you don't want to know?"
"no."
"even though you asked." and sure, you told sam you'd stop fucking with him about this. questions are becoming sparce and you agreed bucky's harmless (contextually).
but sam isn't the one being asked about his dick after a resoundingly shitty assignment.
annoyingly, bucky keeps his focus on whatever it is he's staring at. keeping it off of you is all that really matters. he's kind of cute like that. in his equivalent of flustered, and intense stubbornness.
maybe that's what wills you to say;
"wait for me in the showers."
bucky glances over.