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Something’s tickling Bucky’s nose. He wrinkles his nose and sniffles, eyes screwed up against the light coming in through the window. He doesn’t usually sleep with the blinds open, but he vaguely remembers getting kind of drunk last night and he must not have had the forethought to close them. He finally cracks an eye to see what’s touching his face. He relaxes when he recognizes Steve’s blond hair and the warm weight of him pressed against Bucky’s side, their naked legs tangled together.
Then he stops relaxing, because he and Steve broke up almost two months ago.
“Steve?” He croaks.
“Hi,” Steve answers dryly. It’s not surprising he’s already awake; he’s always had trouble sleeping, and he naturally wakes up early.
“Uh,” Bucky says.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He pulls away from Bucky and sits up. “Guess we had a few drinks last night.”
“Yeah,” Bucky echoes, remembering everything in a rush. They’d ended up at the same bar and both had outlasted their respective group of coworkers, so they’d had a few together. He and Steve had dated for barely two months, pretty casually, and had broken things off amicably. They still hang out and talk all the time. Sometimes Bucky thinks they get along better now than they did when they were together. But they don’t usually have sex, which they definitely did last night.
“I think it’s normal,” Steve says with a careless shrug. “We were both there and had a few drinks. And the sex was never a problem.”
“True,” Bucky agrees. He can’t really remember what the problem was, actually. There wasn’t one, necessarily. There just wasn’t…not a problem. Neither of them had been terribly invested in the relationship, so they’d decided to call it quits and try to find people they were terribly invested in.
“I should go,” Steve says. He pats Bucky’s bare chest. “Thanks, I guess.” He huffs out a little laugh and Bucky snorts.
“Come on, stay for breakfast,” he says. “Coffee, at least.”
“Omelet?” Steve checks. It’s Bucky’s specialty.
“You know it,” Bucky promises, only feeling slightly awkward as he averts his eyes from Steve’s slight body. Sure, they slept together last night, but it was a fluke. Steve’s self-conscious enough; he doesn’t need Bucky ogling him after a tipsy mistake.
Bucky’s roommate Gabe is eating cereal at the table when they come in, and he pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “What, uh…hi, Steve.”
“Hey,” Steve says. He’s keeping his voice light, but Bucky can see his shoulders starting to hunch, his tell. He’s embarrassed.
“I’m making omelets,” Bucky tosses over his shoulder, hoping to fend off Gabe’s questions until Steve’s safely away. “Wanna ditch the Raisin Bran?”
“Thank God,” Gabe mutters, hurriedly standing to dump his cereal down the drain. Luckily, Gabe’s great at picking up on social cues—and has really nice manners—so he doesn’t make a peep about the weirdness of Bucky’s ex staying over. Bucky’s glad Dugan’s out of town for the weekend, because he would absolutely blunder his way through some uncomfortable questions.
“Thanks for breakfast,” Steve says, after he’s done eating and has washed his plate and the pan Bucky used, because he’s Steve. “See you around.”
“Yeah, um, bye,” Bucky answers, feeling weirdly wrong-footed. Steve obviously wants to act like this is no big deal, so Bucky follows his lead. And it isn’t a big deal. Steve was right—they’d had more drinks than they should’ve, and the sex always had been good between them. Nothing to get weird about.
Gabe waits a solid thirty seconds after the door closes to turn wide eyes on Bucky. “What the hell, dude.”
“I don’t know,” Bucky admits. He runs his hands through his hair, the fingers on his bad hand getting caught up. He has to reach up with his good hand and manually untangle them. He hopes he didn’t try that smooth move on Steve last night. Not that Steve ever minded. He used to trace the scars idly while they held hands. Bucky didn’t realize he remembered that until just now when he thought it.
“Did you guys sleep together?” Gabe asks, hushed like someone’s listening in.
“Yep,” Bucky says. “We ran into each other at that bar last night. The guys from work lasted like two rounds, and Steve and I kept drinking after. And then…I brought him home.”
“Sooo…?” Gabe draws the word out.
“So?” Bucky repeats.
“So are you getting back together?” Gabe asks.
“No,” Bucky says, shrugging and taking his half-full coffee mug to the sink.
“No?” Gabe echoes.
“It was just sex,” Bucky tells him. Gabe raises an eyebrow.
“Just sex?”
“Can you stop repeating everything I say?”
“You basically went on a date and then slept together,” Gabe points out.
“We didn’t go on a date!” Bucky protests. “We didn’t even know both of us were going to be at that bar. And we’re friends. You and I go out drinking together. Are those dates? We just hung out and then we had sex afterward.”
“Okay, but you don’t do just sex,” Gabe says logically. “You try it all the time and it never works, because you’re a sappy bastard who wants flowers and chocolates and wedding bells.”
“Jesus, calm down,” Bucky protests. “Steve and I used to date, our bodies remembered each other, we were drunk. It’s fine.”
“Your bodies remembered each other,” Gabe says flatly. Bucky tosses his hands up.
“I’m not talking anymore because you’re just copying everything I say.”
Gabe snorts. “Sorry, didn’t realize you’re a third-grader.”
“You’re the one being a copycat,” Bucky shoots back, sticking out his tongue and then heading down the hall to take a shower. He feels good, despite the awkwardness. It’d been a while since he’d had sex, actually. Not since—
Steve. Not since Steve.
He has the soap hovering over his chest as he has this realization. Gabe was right when he said Bucky doesn’t fare well with casual hookups, but he was also right when he said Bucky tries it. He tries it a lot, when he’s not dating someone, despite the fact that he always ends up wishing he hadn’t. And he had nearly two months after Steve to try it some more. But he didn’t.
He’s not sure if that means something.
He gets back to showering and puts it all out of his mind. He and Steve are friends. They can go out drinking together without it being a date. And yeah, sometimes they catch a movie together. And maybe they’ll get dinner or coffee after. But friends do that. They’d decided, together, they were better as friends, because their relationship was exactly the same as their friendship, but they’d added sex and kissing and holding hands. They maintained a friendship after a breakup; they can stay friends after a hookup. It’s not a big deal.
Bucky rubs his temples. He’s been staring at the computer for twenty minutes, trying to find the snarl in the code that’s making the entire thing unravel. He doesn’t know what the problem is, and he has a raging headache. It’s not fair. He’d gotten drunk with Steve the other night and had woken up Sunday morning fresh as a daisy, but here he is suffering on a Thursday when he’d gone to bed early the night before.
Speaking of Steve…Bucky picks up his phone and sends Steve a snapchat. They haven’t talked much since they woke up together, and Bucky feels guilty. They’re still friends, and he’s worried he made it weirder by not acting normal.
He sends Steve the error message he keeps getting when he tries to publish the site. Steve answers almost immediately, like he always does, and Bucky’s tense muscles release a bit. Of course Steve is still cool with everything.
Steve’s snap is of his shoes, splashed in purple paint. They were brand new and white on Sunday when he left Bucky’s. Student stepped on a tube of paint…an open tube, reads the caption. Bucky winces. He knows Steve, frugal to a fault, will keep wearing the shoes. He’ll try to scrub them, but the paint’s definitely not going anywhere, and Steve won’t throw them out and buy new ones. He’ll just go around with half-dyed shoes.
Bucky switches over to text. Want to try my machine? He offers. Steve’s apartment doesn’t have a washing machine, and the building’s machines are old and mostly useless.
I’d hate to get purple on anything else, Steve replies.
Bucky rolls his eyes. So do them in their own load. You shouldn’t put anything else in with shoes anyway.
Waste of water!!!!
Bucky scoffs, shaking his head, but he’s laughing a little. How did he not see that answer coming? Fine, some of my shoes could probably get washed.
You sure?
Come over tonight, Bucky orders. I’ll make dinner too, since you’re washing my shoes.
Steve sends him back the middle finger emoji, but follows up with 7?
Perf, Bucky says, then locks his phone and gets back to his computer. He remembers what Gabe said about the dates and cringes. But it’s not like he can take it back now. Besides, Steve forgets to eat sometimes if Bucky doesn’t remind him. He gives himself a little shake and focuses on his code again. He blows out a breath. He can figure this out. And he can probably do it without throwing his computer out the window.
Steve shows up exactly at seven, because of course he does, and of course he brings a salad with him, face and shoulders drawn up all defensively like Bucky’s going to turn it away.
“I would’ve brought beer or something, but it’s a weeknight,” Steve justifies himself. Bucky doesn’t drink on weeknights. It’s a hard rule he refuses to break, and he’s glad Steve remembers.
“Looks great,” Bucky says. “Well, great as salad gets, anyway,” he amends, and Steve laughs.
Bucky’s stomach swoops.
Bucky looks down at it, thinking what?, but the offending organ offers no explanation for the butterflies suddenly fluttering away at the sound of Steve’s laugh. Bucky shakes it off.
“Shoes?” He asks. Steve is, of course, currently wearing the damn things, making Bucky crack up, chest filling up with warm fondness. “Here, I’ll take them,” Bucky says.
“No way,” Steve says. “Just tell me which shoes you want washed and I’ll do it.”
“They’re by the door in my closet,” Bucky tells him, going back to the sauce. He knows resistance against Steve’s idea of fairness is futile, so he’ll focus on dinner.
But then Steve gets the washer started and comes back, and Bucky can’t focus. Steve’s wearing a blue shirt, the top few buttons popped and giving off a glimpse of his pale throat, and Bucky can’t stop looking. The blue also brings out his gigantic eyes.
Bucky gives himself a little shake. It’s not a crime to admire his friend’s appearance. It’s not like it’s a secret he finds Steve attractive. They dated, after all, and they apparently accidentally fall into bed together now, so it makes sense. But then he’s thinking about that night they fell into bed together, and he can’t figure out why his head feels like it’s spinning.
“Buck, you’re boiling over,” Steve points out.
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and then he jumps. “What?” His sauce is bubbling over. Bucky curses and turns out the heat, grabbing the handle and lifting it off the heat. Steve’s laughing at him again, and Bucky’s chest feels tight at the bright sound of it filling the kitchen. He flicks a dishrag at Steve to shut him up and the rest of the night goes fine.
They don’t plan to sleep together again. They absolutely don’t. But they finish dinner, and Steve checks on the shoes, and then he comes back and does the dishes, and Gabe and Dugan are both gone, and then…somehow Bucky finds himself crowding Steve against the sink, kissing him with both hands on Steve’s face because Steve doesn’t care that the last two fingers on Bucky’s left hand have no feeling and kind of creepily don’t move.
Steve winds an arm around Bucky’s waist and tangles one in his hair and kisses back enthusiastically, and then somehow it’s forty minutes later and they’re lying in Bucky’s bed, sweaty and sex-tousled. They don’t even have alcohol as an excuse this time.
“Uh, okay,” Bucky chuckles. “So…?”
Steve shakes his head. “Yeah, I didn’t see that coming.”
Bucky buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, shaking with laughter. “Didn’t see yourself coming, huh?”
Steve laughs too, shoving lightly at Bucky. “You pervert.”
Bucky shrugs, unconcerned. “A good joke’s a good joke.”
“Sure, but what was that?”
Bucky snorts, and they’re both quiet. He’s kind of curled around Steve, and Steve’s dragging the backs of his fingernails up and down Bucky’s back lightly, almost tickling him. It feels amazing, and Bucky knows he’s going to fall asleep in five minutes.
“I’m gonna fall asleep,” he warns. Steve’s hand stills and Bucky wants to pout a little bit.
“Yeah, I should get going,” Steve says. Bucky feels a flash of sadness at Steve leaving, but he pushes it down. Of course Steve needs to go. They both have work in the morning.
And they’re not dating.
Bucky is surprisingly stung by that thought. He swallows and sits up, making sure none of his turmoil is on his face. “Well, thanks…again,” he says, laughing sheepishly. Steve grins and climbs off the bed.
“I don’t know if thanks is a precedent we want to set for this,” he jokes, and Bucky’s heart jumps a little at the thought of them setting any precedent here. His eyes must widen a little, because Steve cuts his eyes away and then gets dressed with a thoughtful look on his face. Great. Now Bucky made him uncomfortable.
“Thanks for letting me use your machine,” Steve says, kind of awkward now that he’s standing on the doorstep.
“Anytime,” Bucky promises. They both look down at Steve’s shoes, which are only slightly less purple than before. “Sorry it didn’t work better. Maybe try with bleach?”
Steve shrugs. “Maybe. Okay, uh…bye.”
“Bye,” Bucky says, and he closes the door after Steve, not letting himself watch Steve walk away like he wants to.
He strips the sheets off his bed and throws them in his laundry hamper. He pauses over the pillowcases and picks one up to breathe it in. It smells like Steve, and he smiles a bit at the thought. Maybe he’ll leave the pillowcases to keep the scent around longer. He drops the pillow.
Oh, shit. Holy shit. Bucky’s in love with his ex-boyfriend.
Bucky has no idea how he gets through work on Friday. He’s dazed and snappish at anyone who tries talking to him. He doesn’t want to talk to Gabe about this, because then Gabe will be right. Bucky hates making other people right. And he can’t talk to Dugan about it for the same reason. Besides, they’ll both remind him that this always happens when he tries to casually hook up with someone, but he knows this is different. He just can’t explain why. He can’t call his mom, because he really doesn’t want to tell her that he’s been hooking up with anyone, even if she does love Steve. But he needs to talk to someone. This is an emergency, so he calls in the big guns.
“Do not scowl at me like that, James,” Natasha says the minute she sees him. Bucky thunks his head down on the table and groans. “That’s better.”
“How is that better?” Bucky asks, wounded.
“Because you’re not scowling at me.”
“I’m scowling at life,” Bucky moans. He can’t see her, but he knows Natasha is rolling her eyes at his dramatics. She secretly loves it, Bucky knows. Every time she sees what a train wreck his life is, it makes her feel better about herself.
She pats the back of his head. “What’s wrong this time?”
“I’minlovewithSteve,” he mumbles without raising his head.
“Steve?” She asks, almost sounding surprised. Bucky can’t even be impressed she understood that, because she’s Natasha. Of course she did. “Well, yeah. You broke up and then kept dating for months. Why’d you even break up if you’re in love?”
“I wasn’t in love with him then! Or…I don’t know, I didn’t realize I was,” Bucky admits, finally raising his head so he can rest his chin on his palm. “I guess I thought being in love with someone would feel…different. Big.”
“And you feel small about him?”
“No, I just feel…” Bucky licks his lips. “I feel like he’s one of my best friends, and I want him to stick around.”
“You have other friends,” Natasha points out, not unkindly. “It’s different than that?”
“Yeah,” Bucky says. “No offense.”
That actually gets a laugh out of Natasha. “None taken,” she promises dryly. She’s dating Sam, Steve’s other best friend. Because Bucky’s life isn’t complicated enough.
“But Steve just thinks it’s nothing. We’re friends and we just sort of…accidentally keep having sex. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t you?” Natasha asks. “Or do you just not want to do what you know you need to do because you don’t want to rock the boat?”
Bucky heaves a sigh and doesn’t dignify her with a response. They both know the answer. He gets up to order them some drinks and probably some mozzarella sticks. He’ll decide when he gets up there. When he gets back to the table—he did order the mozzarella sticks—Sam himself is walking in. He gives Natasha a quick kiss and then raises his eyebrows at Bucky.
“Hello, Bucky.”
“Steve told you,” Bucky says.
“Of course Steve told me,” Sam says, pressing a hand to his chest. No wonder Natasha puts up with Bucky being dramatic.
Bucky puts his head back down on the table and groans again. Sam laughs and Natasha just silently exudes eye-roll again. She hates when Bucky complains about things he should just fix. Because Natasha has never had a moment of indecision in her life, probably.
Okay, that’s not true. Bucky knows her better than that.
“I thought it was no big deal,” Sam says, helping himself to a mozzarella stick without asking because his life’s work is annoying Bucky. “I didn’t know it was a thing.”
“It’s not a thing,” Bucky mutters, not meeting Sam’s eyes, and then suddenly Sam’s dropping the mozzarella stick—seriously? He’s going to waste it like that?—and staring at Bucky all wide-eyed.
“Wait, it’s a thing for you?”
“I know, I know, I should tell Steve so I don’t take advantage of him,” Bucky says glumly. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ever want to do that to Steve.”
“Oh,” Sam says. “Yeah, that’s—okay.”
Bucky gives him a strange look. “Um, okay.”
“I just—” Sam flaps a hand for a second, which is what he does whenever he’s flustered and is why they sometimes call him bird man. “I think you should talk to Steve, is all.”
“Yeah, I just said I would,” Bucky says slowly. Sam’s being weird. He’s not usually cryptic—that’s Natasha’s gig. But he is a good secret keeper. So if he’s being cryptic, it’s usually about someone else’s secrets.
“Steve’s secret?” Bucky bursts out, incomprehensible to anyone who wasn’t listening in on his thoughts.
“Yeah,” Sam says, so maybe he’s a mind-reader. He’s grinning huge, and Bucky’s chest feels all blown up like a balloon. If Sam is telling Bucky to talk to Steve about it being a thing for Bucky, and he’s being cryptic about Steve’s secrets, that probably means Steve’s secret that he told Sam is that it’s a thing for Steve.
The tangled web is kind of making Bucky’s head hurt, but he gets it. Steve feels the same. Bucky jumps up.
“I gotta go.”
“He’s at the studio,” Sam tells him. “Maybe he’ll buy you new mozzarella sticks, because I’m eating all of these.”
Bucky doesn’t waste time arguing with Sam like he normally would. He drops a kiss to the top of Natasha’s head in thanks and sprints away.
He can hear loud guitar riffs coming from Steve’s studio, so he knows Steve’s in there and alone. If other people are in there working, Steve sticks to quiet folk music that puts Bucky to sleep and sometimes makes him tear up if he listens to the lyrics. They’re just all so sad all the time. But when Steve’s alone, he likes to rock out. All his music is angry, which fills Bucky with this weird combination of sadness and affection.
Steve’s kind of angry most of the time, but he has reason to be. Bucky likes it. He actually really does. Because he’s in love with Steve.
Bucky has to take a minute to rest against the wall before he can go inside. He’s got to gather his bearings. Jesus, he’s never told anyone he’s already broken up with he’s in love with them. He should’ve googled it to see if anyone on the internet had any tips.
He briefly considers doing it now, but the warehouse Steve works out of has terrible reception and if Bucky stands here much longer without going in he’ll probably chicken out. Even knowing—maybe 90% sure—that Steve feels the same, Bucky’s terrified.
He doesn’t bother knocking, because Steve won’t be able to hear over the music anyway. Bucky pulls open the door and finds…nothing. Steve isn’t here. Bucky walks in and searches the whole studio, but he can’t find Steve. He doesn’t know what to do. Steve would never leave all the lights and the music on like that. It’s a waste of electricity. And the door was unlocked.
Bucky turns off the music, then goes down the hall and checks the bathroom, but it’s empty.
All the wind goes out of Bucky’s sails. He was gearing himself up for a big Hollywood moment, declaring his love and maybe (probably) having sex on the studio floor, and Steve’s not here. But where is he? Is he okay?
Bucky’s phone buzzes. It’s Steve. Where are you?
Bucky squints at it, confused. Ur studio. Where r u?
Steve hates when Bucky uses text speech like that. But he doesn’t mention it. Bucky’s phone buzzes again and he jumps when he realizes Steve is calling him.
“Bucky!” Steve says when Bucky picks up. Wherever he is, it’s loud, and Steve’s laughing a little. Bucky can’t help a little curl of resentment.
“I came to your studio and the door was unlocked and the lights and your music are on,” Bucky says. “What’s going on?”
“I came to find you,” Steve says. “I’m at the bar you just left.”
It takes Bucky a second to process that, and then he barks out a surprised laugh. “What? Why?”
“I want to tell you in person,” Steve says. “Don’t move, okay? Just stay there. I’m coming back.”
“Wait, Steve—” It’s too late. He hung up. He’s always been pretty abrupt on the phone. Now Bucky has to wait around for Steve to get back. Bucky sighs and sits down in Steve’s chair in front of a blank canvas. Steve’s chair is uncomfortable. Bucky switches to the floor.
He spent a lot of time here when he and Steve were together, since Steve spends a lot of time here. He’s always liked watching Steve paint. Maybe that should’ve told him something about his feelings. Who likes to sit around and watch their friend squint and make faces and stick his tongue out and glare for a few hours? Bucky, that’s who.
Finally, the door flies open and Steve bursts inside. “Bucky,” he gasps out. He’s obviously been running a while, which is a dumb thing for a guy with asthma to do.
“Do you need your inhaler?” Bucky asks.
“No,” Steve says.
“Do you need mouth to mouth?” Bucky asks, quieter. He’s trying to sound confident but he didn’t quite make it. Steve looks at him for a second and then nods.
“I think I might,” he says, and then he breaks into a grin that Bucky can’t help but return. Bucky starts to get up off the ground at the same moment Steve tries to drop into his lap, and they end up smacking their heads together.
“Jesus Christ,” Bucky swears.
“Sorry,” Steve says, rubbing Bucky’s head with one hand and his own with the other. “I just wanted to…sit in your lap.”
“I’m not complaining about that,” Bucky points out.
“Yeah?” Steve asks.
“Yeah.” Bucky bites his lip. “Um. I came here to tell you I…” He takes a deep breath. It shouldn’t be so hard when Steve is already sitting in his lap. Heh. So hard. He blinks and focuses on Steve’s face. That makes it easier, actually. “I don’t want to keep randomly hooking up,” he says. “I want to…not randomly hook up.”
Steve doesn’t say anything for a second. “What?”
Bucky winces. Yeah, that didn’t make a ton of sense. “I want to be with you. I think I’m in love with you.”
Steve blinks at him, and then he smiles. Bucky’s whole body unclenches. Steve leans forward and kisses Bucky softly, making his heart soar. “I think I’m in love with you too,” Steve murmurs. “Not sure why it took breaking up to realize it.”
“I thought being in love would feel different,” Bucky admits.
“I know!” Steve agrees, leaning back so he can gesture with his hands. “Who knew it would just feel comfortable like we’re best friends?”
Bucky laughs, because he can’t believe this is happening. He pulls Steve in close again and kisses him. He wants to stay right here. Maybe forever.
“Can we get off the floor?” Steve contradicts his thoughts.
“I kinda just want to stay here,” slips out of Bucky’s mouth. Steve snorts.
“I’ll stay in your lap,” he promises. “But maybe we could at least move to the chair. Sitting on the floor probably isn’t super sanitary. I don’t know when it was cleaned last.” Well, Bucky figures that means they won't be having sex on this floor, like he maybe thought about a little bit.
“You want my ass clean, is that it?” Bucky jokes as they get up. Steve laughs and rolls his eyes.
“You and your bad jokes. I can’t believe I like it.”
Bucky knows he’s got a goofy grin on his face. “Yeah, me neither.” Steve mirrors his goofy grin and kisses him again. They keep doing that. It’s nice not to have to justify it in his brain.
“Do you want to go back to the bar?” Steve asks. “Sam said I need to buy you mozzarella sticks.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“Since when do you need a reason for mozzarella sticks?”
It makes Bucky laugh and kiss him again. Now that is proof that Steve knows him and loves him. “I guess we could go back. Hang out with our friends for a while.”
“Not too long, though,” Steve says.
“Oh, why?” Bucky asks, taking Steve’s hand as they head toward the door. He loves holding Steve’s hands. “You gotta get up early tomorrow?”
“No,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. “I just plan to be fucking most of the night and I don’t know how long I can wait.”
Bucky sputters for a second. They end up having sex on the studio floor after all.