Steve's tense. Peggy's visiting in a week and he hasn't seen her for three years. They've skyped, written to each other, they message constantly, but it's different when she's actually going to be in the same room as him.
They broke up on good terms- their friendship is strong enough to make it not much of a big deal, and Steve would never have wanted Peggy to choose between him and work.
So they're close and she's probably his best friend, but he hasn't seen her for three years so of course he's tense.
He's denying it, though. Because that's what Steve does best- pretends he's fine through thick and thin. He's up to his elbows in warm soapy water, scrubbing the side of his apartment block because there's so much graffiti on it. He's doing a good deed, he's a good person, he's totally fine.
Except it's not a good deed when it's his own graffiti he's cleaning. And he's only cleaning it because he wants to distract himself with another art piece.
But yeah, Steve's fine.
Steve's not fine. He's scrubbed his hands raw. He knows, he does, that there's nothing to be worried about. It's Peggy. Peggy goddamn Carter. There's literally nothing to go wrong. Yeah, but tell that to his shaking hands and so-clean-it-sparkles building.
"Hey, man. Good work. I'd offer to help you but it looks like you've got it all under control. You're a star." Steve looks up to find himself staring at That Fucking Asshole who lives in his building. He's never actually talked to the guy but he's passed him a few times. He doesn't even say "hi" in passing, they're that unacquainted.
Steve doesn't know anything about the guy except his butt looks amazing in skinny jeans and he really rocks the leather jacket he always wears. And that his hair looks so soft and Steve just wants to braid it. He barely ever sees the guy, but it's a real problem.
He's looking at Steve with an easy grin that makes Steve want to write a sonnet. The asshole looks away (and yeah, maybe he's only an asshole because he's so attractive and it's either that or Angel, and Steve's not calling him an angel) and Steve realises he's just spent the entity of their first conversation staring at him.
"Yeah. That's me. I'm a star and I do good work. I love my community!" Steve tries to match the asshole's grin in both friendliness and attractiveness but probably fails spectacularly. "Steve the star." He adds, as if that would help his pride. It doesn't.
"Bucky the..." The asshole- Bucky (-Bucky????)- hesitates, frowning. "Bisexual?"
It comes out as more of a question than a statement and Steve laughs. "Don't ask me, pal. You're the only one who can confirm that."
"Right. Yes, it's true." Bucky now looks really uncomfortable but Steve can't really get past the fact he's called Bucky. That's, like, a dog's name. This is great, Steve loves it.
"I'm gonna go now." Bucky says abruptly and spins on his heel. Steve doesn't even pretend he's not checking him out as he goes.
"Bye, bi-Bucky." Steve calls after him. Bucky walks faster.
Steve's got a beanie on but it's covered by his hood so he doesn't know why he bothers. At least he won't get cold. Vandalising his own building is kind of lame because if anyone comes, he can't just run inside. It means he'd have to run until he loses his chasers, which isn't likely because he can hardly climb the stairs before he needs his inhaler.
It's okay, though, because no one gives a shit around here.
"Hey!"
Steve spoke too soon. He grips his cans and tries to run, but the voice keeps calling.
"No, wait! I'm not a cop! I just wanna know what you're painting." Steve glances over his shoulder and stops running. It's a relief, his lungs are already screaming at him. It's just Bucky.
"You know, you're lucky it's me. There's another guy who lives here, and he cleaned up your last work. He's kinda small but I feel like if he saw you messing it back up he'd- oh." Bucky's eyes go wide when Steve drops his hood and tugs off his beanie.
"Small? Piss off, I'll fight you." Steve hisses. He's not actually angry (for once) but Bucky just called him small. No one calls him small. Ever. (Even if it is true.)
"That's exactly what I was going to say. Small and scrappy. Like a chihuahua or something." Bucky leans against the wall with an easy smirk that is equal parts hot and annoying.
"Y'know what?" Steve growls, crowding up in Bucky's space. He shoves the half-empty cans into Bucky's chest and hates that he has to stand on his toes to snarl in Bucky's face. Bucky's hands automatically grip the cans of paint. "You're a jerk."
Their faces are inches apart and Steve takes a moment to appreciate it for the miracle it is. Somehow, Bucky's even more beautiful up close.
"Yeah, whatever, punk." Bucky scoffs, easily brushing Steve off him. Steve wants to snap back but Bucky's tracing Steve's art with his fingers.
"That's not dry yet." Steve laughs and Bucky immediately pulls his hand back. It's too late though, and there's red paint smeared from the tips of his index and middle fingers down to his wrist.
"Tell me about this." He says, wiping his hand on his jeans. He nods to the big blue figure sprawled across the wall and Steve's suddenly not so sure he wants to be spending time with his hot neighbour. No one knows about Captain America- not even Peggy.
"I've seen him before, around the city. Is it always you?" Bucky continues as if Steve isn't freaking out a little bit. He probably doesn't notice, though. Steve's very good at hiding his emotions.
"Hey, you okay?" Bucky moves to put his hand on Steve's shoulder. Okay, maybe Steve's as easy to see through as a window but Bucky's hand feels really nice, so who's the real winner here? It's Steve.
"Yeah. He's mine." Steve can't meet Bucky's eyes so he picks up the silver and sprays a star on the wall. "He's a superhero I made up when I was younger, you know? I was always sick as a kid. I never felt like I could be who I was meant to be, but Captain America's always strong and-"
And Bucky's laughing. See, this is exactly why no one knows about Captain America.
"Captain America? So you created this alter-ego who is basically who you think you are at your full potential and you called him Captain America?" Bucky snorts and Steve scowls at him, if only to hide his relief that it's not him Bucky's laughing at.
"Yeah, that's rich, coming from Bucky." Steve snorts. He's just finished the red-white-and-blue shield his paintings all have. It looks better than usual- almost like it's glowing.
Then there's another voice.
"Well, boys, this looks like fun." Steve freezes and Bucky's eyes go wide. Steve kind of wants to turn around but he also doesn't want to show his face. Now that he thinks about it, he can see the red and blue lights flashing on his work. It actually looks really good but he shouldn't be thinking about that right now.
"Run!" Bucky hisses in his ear and Steve doesn't even have time to think about the way Bucky's hand feels in his own. He's being dragged along way to fast for his small legs and weak lungs.
"Bucky! Stop." He wheezes, wishing more than anything he was just healthy. Like Captain Fucking America.
"What, you wanna get caught?" Bucky gives Steve's arm another tug but Steve actually can't keep up and pulls himself free. Immediately, Bucky stops. Steve had expected him to keep going and just leave Steve. It would've been fair enough, too, because Bucky hadn't actually done anything wrong. Steve is the vandalist. Bucky's just the witness.
"Asthma." Steve gasps, fumbling for his inhaler and taking a couple of puffs.
"Oh, shit. You alright?" Bucky asks, cupping Steve's chin and tilting his face up so he can get a better look. Steve is adamant he won't blush. He's not a child.
"I'm good." He says and there's a sharp laugh behind him.
"That's not the word I'd use. Come one guys, you're coming with me."
Sam's not answering his phone and Steve vaguely remembers it's date night. Steve's happy for him, he really is. But he now has to spend the night in the cell because Sam's getting laid.
Steve sighs and hands the phone over to Bucky. He doesn't want to intrude and eavesdrop but it's kind of hard not to when they're so close together.
When Bucky rambles off in a language Steve doesn't know, not eavesdropping is a lot easier than planned. He tries to pretend he isn't disappointed but he's never been a good liar. Oh well. No one else needs to know.
Bucky hangs up and bangs his head against the wall.
"You in for the night too then?" Steve asks. He feels a little bit guilty, because Bucky didn't really do anything.
"Yeah," Bucky says. The walk over to Officer Hill with their shoulders brushing. Except Steve's actually too short so his shoulder's just brushing Bucky's arm. It has the same effect, though. Hill leads them to a cell and locks them in together.
"Our holding cell- hope you don't mind sharing." She hesitates, watching them to make sure they actually are okay together. Steve smiles at her, honestly touched that she seems to care.
"I know what you're thinking. I know he's small but I promise I won't beat him up." Bucky vows with a completely straight face. Steve punches his arm and Hill laughs, leaving them to it.
Steve settles down on one of the beds. There are two in this cell, so it's not as bad as it could've been. The bed's as uncomfortable as it looks, though. That's definitely not a plus.
"I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this." Steve says, trying to pretend he's not aching all over. He can hear Bucky shifting on his bed.
"Caught me red-handed." Bucky grins, holding up his hand. It's still smeared with faded red paint and Steve rolls his eyes.
"I've seen Cap all around Brooklyn." Bucky says, breaking the silence. Steve looks over to him. It's just after midnight and he thinks they've been there for almost an hour.
"What can I say." Steve shrugs. He tries not to wince. They haven't been there for long but his bad back's already hurting. "Nothing can tie me down!"
There's a moment of silence where neither of them have anything worth saying, but Steve doesn't want to spend the whole night like this so he says the first thing that pops into mind.
"I only hit when I'm tense." He says, and damn it. There's a reason most people have filters, and that's to stop them from saying shit they don't want to.
"What's got you wound up?" Bucky asks. They're lying in their respective beds, facing each other, and Steve feels like a kid again, at a friend's house for the night.
"Peggy- my friend's coming to visit. I haven't seen her in three years and I know it'll be fine but I just can't help but..." He trails off, not too sure if it's because he doesn't know what to say or if he just doesn't want to say it.
"Yeah." Bucky says, like he gets it. And looking across the cell to his big blue eyes Steve thinks maybe he does. He offers him a shy smile and Bucky returns it.
"She's the only person I've ever been in love with. It's not like that anymore, she's my best friend. I don't want to go back to how we were, but the last time I actually saw her we were breaking up." It's like a dam's broken. The words are tumbling out and he's drowning in them but he can't really help it. "We've both changed, we're not the people we used to be. We don't work like that anymore. It's good. I don't miss the way things were or anything but I just can't help but worry. It makes no sense."
Bucky doesn't say anything again and Steve can feel a blush heating his cheeks. He's grateful for the dark cell with only a dim light in the corridor- at least Bucky won't see him.
"I used to be with my best friend." Bucky says, right as Steve starts to think he wasn't even listening. "It was kinda awkward when we broke up but I'm glad we're still friends. I can't imagine my life without her, even though I'm not attracted to her anymore."
Maybe that's just it, though. Steve sees a friend in Peggy. He used to see a life partner and he knows she used to see a life partner in him, too. But what if underneath that she can't see a friend? They've talked as friends, online. But he could be anyone, a faceless person behind a screen. What if Peggy sees him again and can only see an ex where he stands?
"We've never been friends." Steve whispers. "We went straight from strangers to dating. I don't even know if we'd work as friends." He moves so he's sitting up, back pressed against the cold brick wall and knees tucked under his chin.
"You said you haven't seen her in three years, right?" Bucky asks and Steve nods. "But she's your best friend. You're clearly important to her. I'm sure you'll be great friends."
Steve knows, logically, that Bucky's right.
"Yeah. I know. I just need to stop worrying." Steve sighs. Bucky sits up so the pair are facing each other, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed.
"Easier said than done." Bucky points out with a lazy shrug. The cell falls silent again, not overly uncomfortable, but not ideal either. It seems Steve isn't the only one not wanting to feel every second tick past.
"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with..." Bucky says, voice trailing off as he thinks of something. "B."
"Bisexual?"
"No!"
"Bed?"
"No."
"Bars?"
"No."
Steve looks around the dim room, trying to figure out what begins with B. Walls, floor, roof, concrete, window, shadows, Bucky-
"Bucky?"
"Yeah?" Bucky looks up. He was picking at his cuticles but now his full attention is on Steve.
"For I Spy. B. Bucky." Steve says, not bothering to hide his amusement.
"Oh- um, no. Not Bucky." He tucks his chin to his chest and Steve grins. Bucky pulls his right knee up to rest his cheek on and starts fiddling with the laces on his-
"Boots!" Steve exclaims triumphantly. Bucky grins.
"Yep!" He says, popping the 'p'. "Your turn."
Steve looks around the room, humming in contemplation. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with C."
"Cell." Bucky says immediately. Steve shakes his head.
"Criminal."
"Hey! I resent that." Steve protests. Bucky laughs.
"I could'a meant me." He says.
"Still no."
"Cool cat. And by that I do mean me." Steve rolls his eyes at that but realises Bucky probably can't see him well enough in the dark. Oh well, it's the thought that counts.
"No, it's not cool cat." Steve says with a dramatic sigh.
"It's... Concrete." Bucky tries.
"Nope."
"Cop."
"Can't see her from here."
"Oh yeah. Cement."
"Nope."
"Cell."
"Still no." Steve laughs. Bucky shifts to his feet and wanders around the room. He trails his hand along the wall and squats in the corner, examining something.
"Cockroaches?" He asks, looking up at Steve.
"Ew, really? There are cockroaches in here?" Steve crawls over the paper thin mattress to get a better look.
"No," Bucky pouts. "I just can't think of anything."
The cell falls silent, save for the quiet sound of Bucky's footsteps as he paces the room.
"There's literally nothing beginning with C." He complains, banging his head against the wall.
"Do you give up?" Steve taunts. Bucky's head snaps around and he glares at Steve.
"No!" He collapses onto Steve's bed and groans. "I don't know. Don't tell me. We'll come back to this."
"What language were you speaking on the phone?" Steve blurts. Good one, Rogers. Real casual.
"Eavesdropping, were you?" Bucky teases, but it falls flat. He doesn't move from where he's splayed out beside Steve but Steve doesn't actually mind.
"Just curious." Steve lies with a shrug. It seems to work, for once, and Bucky explains.
"Lived in Russia for a bit. My friend is Russian and won't acknowledge me if I speak in English." Steve wants to ask more- about his time in Russia, why he went, how long he was there for- but Bucky suddenly seems to close down. He stands up stiffly (although if Steve was to be completely fair, that could just as easily be from the mattress as the conversation) and curls up on the other bed.
"I'm gonna try and sleep." Bucky mumbles, rolling over so his back's to Steve. "Goodnight."
"'Night, Buck." Steve whispers.
Bucky's clearly still awake. He's too tense and his breathing isn't even enough for him to be unconscious. Steve can't swallow the lump of guilt stuck in his throat. If only he hadn't opened his big mouth. They were getting along just fine before Steve ruined it all.
He traces the shadows and cracks on the ceiling with his eyes, finding animals and objects to occupy his mind. He can't sleep; he's too cold and his back's aching. Oh well.
There's this one crack- it's a witch's hand, reaching out and branching off into five spidery fingers. Steve's following it across the room when Bucky shifts.
"I fucked up my arm in Russia." He's so quiet, his voice is so small compared to the friendly flirty voice Steve's become used to that Steve's not too sure Bucky actually spoke or if he just imagined it. He rolls over onto his left to face Bucky. Bucky's not looking at him, but he is facing him. Steve counts it as a win.
"Frostbite. It was so fucking cold." Bucky's voice is growing, it's firmer but it's still small and shy. Steve doesn't know what to say. "It could be worse- at least I still have it. But it's so weak, and it always hurts, you know? Sometimes I just wish-"
He cuts off, chokes down a whimper and yeah, Steve knows the feeling. When his body gives up before it should, when it lets him down time and time again.
"I've been hospitalised for pneumonia six times. The fourth time, they told my mother I wasn't going to make it." Steve screws his eyes shut, willing back the tears that always force their way up when he thinks of Ma. It's been over a year but he's still not quite right. With Peggy gone, the first few months after his mother's death felt like Hell. He doesn't know that he would've made it through without Sam.
"That's rough." Bucky whispers. Then, a bit louder, "Clock?"
Steve frowns. "Clock?"
"Something beginning with C. Clock." Bucky prompts. Steve laughs and looks at his watch. It's almost 3.
"Okay, first of all, it's a watch. Not a clock. And secondly, no."
Bucky groans and throws his left arm over his eyes. Now that Steve thinks about it, he has no clue which of Bucky's arm is the injured one. But he's not bringing that up again.
"Hey, you alright?" Bucky asks suddenly, sitting up in a blur. Steve squints at him through the dark.
"What? Yeah?"
"You're shivering." Bucky says. Steve looks down at his body and yeah, Bucky's right. It's freezing in here.
"I'm always shivering." Despite his beanie and his hoodie. Steve narrows his eyes. He wants to punch his goddamn bad circulation. (As if he could.)
"Here, take my jacket." Bucky offers, shrugging it off.
It's his beautiful leather jacket, and Steve's body screams yes but his mouth says, "No thanks."
Stupid fucking mouth. And pride. His pride must've had a say in it if his answer is no.
"Come on, Steve. I run hot, I don't need it."
Steve's actually seen Bucky going for runs some mornings. Bucky saying he runs hot is definitely not a lie. He looks amazing in sports gear.
"I'm not a child." Steve grumbles. It's not a hard No, which means Bucky must be very special because everyone gets hard Nos. Steve does not need to be coddled just because he's small.
Bucky tosses the jacket and it lands over Steve, still radiating Bucky's warmth. He hates to admit it, but it feels real good.
"I'm not thanking you." Steve mutters. Because that would make it seem like he actually wants the jacket. He doesn't. He's fine without it, Bucky just forced it on him. Nothing Steve can do about it now.
"Whatever, pal." Bucky laughs.
Steve reluctantly pulls Bucky's jacket on. It's so warm and comfy, and it smells so nice that he almost sighs. Almost- he manages to reign himself in at the last second. Jesus, that would be embarrassing.
They're quiet for a while. Steve's gone back to the witch on the ceiling, her fingers trailing into spiderwebs.
"If your house was on fire," Bucky says after a moment. "And for some reason you could only grab one thing, what would it be?"
This isn't an uncommon thought for Steve. He knows exactly what he'd take, but he's not sure it counts.
"My father's dog tags. Except I'm always wearing them, so I theoretically should be able to take something else."
"Nope." Bucky shakes his head. "This hypothetical scenario works in mysterious ways."
"Okay." Steve says. "If our building was on fire, what would you save?"
Bucky's silent for a moment, as if he hadn't considered the possibility Steve would turn the question on him.
“It sounds real shallow, but my phone.” Bucky admits after a while.
“Fair enough.” Steve says.
“I’ve got everything on it- photos, messages, documents. They’re more important to me than a china plate, or my copy of The Book Thief .” Bucky sounds defensive, and maybe that’s why he took so long to answer.
“Hey, I’m not judging you. If my phone wasn’t a four-year-old piece of crap that can barely take photos I’m sure it’d be up there on my list.” Steve reassures through a yawn. His eyelids are twice as heavy as they were a minute ago and he realises how exhausted he is.
“I think I’m going to call it a night, Buck.” Steve mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting his eyes fall shut. Exhaustion hits him suddenly, sometimes. But then again, it’s way later than he’s usually up, he has every right to be tired.
“Yeah, Steve. See you in the morning.” Bucky replies as Steve feels himself drifting off.
Steve wakes to a stiff back and cold air. His lungs rattle in his chest as he breathes and he coughs until his throat is raw with it.
“Steve?” Bucky asks sleepily, blinking his eyes open and sitting up. Steve winces. He hates it when people see him sick. It’s bad enough being this weak, but to have other people know it too almost feels like betrayal.
“‘M fine.” Steve croaks and Bucky actually laughs.
“Yeah, you sure sound fine.” He snorts. Steve glares at him but Bucky holds his gaze.
“Hey boys. Ready to come with me?” Their little stare-off is interrupted by Officer Hill as she comes down the corridor, dangling some keys from her hand. She unlocks the door to the holding cell and waves Steve and Bucky out.
“Down the corridor, first door on the right.” She tells them. Bucky’s face splits into a brilliant grin and Steve’s too mesmerised by it to even wonder what has him smiling.
Steve leads them down the hallway and through the door. They’re at the reception area and he stands awkwardly by the wall.
“Corridor!” Bucky hisses in his ear. He’s still grinning.
“What?” Steve asks with a frown, but before Bucky can answer, Hill is in front of them.
She briefly explains that they can go with just a warning, since graffiti isn’t a major offence. Steve nods along and thanks her and a few minutes later he’s out in the weak sunlight with Bucky.
“Corridor was your word beginning with C from I Spy!” He exclaims, looking way too pleased with himself.
“Yeah, it was.” Steve laughs. His hands are tucked into the pockets of Bucky’s jacket and he smiles up at his neighbour.
“What’s my prize?” Bucky asks. He hasn’t noticed that Steve still has his jacket- either that or he doesn’t mind. Steve’s not going to mention it.
“Dunno, what do you want?” Steve replies, still looking at Bucky. The pale sunlight is in his hair and there are bags under his eyes and Steve can’t look away.
“Take me out for breakfast.” Bucky says, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s too nervous for it to be a joke suggestion for a game, but Steve still isn’t 100% sure on it.
“I can do that.” He says with a nod. Bucky nods back.
“As a date. I’d like to go on a date with you.” Bucky clarifies and Steve laughs.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can definitely do that.”