Steve let himself into the tiny Brooklyn apartment, regretting the sixth floor walkup in a way he only did after a long shift and a longer train ride home. His keys rang softly in the bowl on the table as he leaned back against the door with a sigh, exhaustion pouring through his body.
“I was just about to get worried,” a voice rang out from the kitchen. Bucky appeared in the doorway, long hair pulled back into a vague bun, tendrils falling around his face. He was carrying two bowls of something steaming, one in his hand, the other tucked into the crook of his arm. Steve took a peaceful moment at the door to just take him in, all his ratty-tee-shirt and stolen sweatpants glory before responding.
“That's sweet, Buck,” he said, peeling himself off the wall. “Wouldn't want you to lose any sleep over me.”
“Shut up. I made dinner.”
“You made canned soup.”
“I used the stove, that's cooking.”
Steve smiled softly. “Let me get changed and I'll meet you in the living room.”
Work clothes off, landing with a soft thud into the hamper – Steve paused on his bed before reaching over to his dresser, appreciating the feel of the cool air on his bare skin.
“I'm gonna start the movie without you,” Bucky called from the other room.
Steve padded back into the living room and flopped on the couch next to Bucky. “What are we watching?”
“Pride and prejudice.”
“You're really digging the Austen lately, huh.”
“Shut up and eat your damn soup, Rogers.” Steve's phone buzzed. “Who's that?”
Steve glanced over at the screen and sighed. “Nat's trying to set me up again.”
“Who this time?”
“Doesn't matter. I'm not interested.”
Bucky looked over at him appraisingly. “Why not?”
Steve just shrugged. Bucky looked displeased.
“Come on, Stevie, you're young, you're beautiful – you should be out on the town, having fun.”
You really think I'm beautiful? “I am having fun,” Steve said stubbornly.
“Uh-huh.”
“I'm just not looking for anybody right now.”
Bucky huffed. “I'm gonna kick Carter's ass.”
“Oh, come on,” Steve said.
“Seriously.”
“Buck, it was four years ago. I'm not still carrying a torch. Besides which, there's no way in hell you could ever take Peggy.”
“Then go out with someone.”
Steve laughed. “First of all, even if I was looking, which I'm not, you really think I'm gonna go out with some girl Natasha knows from god-know-where?”
“What? Natasha's got good taste.”
“Natasha went out with Clint.”
“That's your bad taste, not hers. Barton's fun. I'd sleep with him.”
“Yeah, well, no offense, Bucky, but you're kind of a slut.”
Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “True.”
“Besides, the last girl she tried to set me up with was Peggy's cousin, and I can't take Peggy any more than you can.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said cheerfully, sliding closer to Steve so that they were pressed up against each other, his head on Steve's shoulder. “Okay. I've seen lots of gifs on tumblr, I wanna watch this,” he said, kicking Steve lightly on the side of his foot. “Play the movie.”
Steve settled deeper into Bucky's body and obliged.
“Is coffee a good thing to have before a run?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Is judgment a good thing to pass before I've tipped you?” he said, still wedging a five dollar bill into the jar. “And I'm just coming back from my run, excuse you.”
“So you're rehydrating with coffee.”
“I don't judge your life choices, Rogers,” Sam said with a laugh as he moved to the side of the counter.
Steve moved opposite him, filling the to-go mug with coffee and doctoring it himself before he handed it to Sam. “Yes you do. You and Nat and Pegs are practically a club.”
“It's always good to have a hobby.” Sam sat down on one of the stools. “So how's it going?”
“Same old, same old.”
“Natasha's pissed you won't take her up on any of her dates,” Sam said with a sly smile. Steve looked up warningly and Sam raised his hands innocently. “I didn't say anything. Although how she hasn't seen it yet I have no idea. I mean, I think at this point you two are actually common law married, you know that?”
“Shut up, Wilson,” Steve muttered.
“Okay,” Sam said, grinning. “I'll just keep my opinions to myself then.”
“Please do.”
“Although I just have to say-”
“No.”
“I know you don't like to hear it-”
“Sam-”
“But I think you should tell him.”
Steve stopped, dropping the towel he'd been wiping down the counter with. “How? How do I tell him? This isn't just a crush, Sam. I'm in love with him. How on earth do you tell your best friend that?”
Sam shrugged. “I don't have all the answers.” He stood to go. “Maybe you start by being a little more honest with yourself, though.”
“You're not a therapist yet, you know,” Steve called after him as he walked towards the door. Sam just raised his coffee cup in a mocking salute as he let himself out.
Steve was back in the kitchen a few hours later, frosting the sugar cookies with little spiders and birds, when Bucky came sauntering in the back door.
“That's an employee entrance only,” Steve said, not looking up.
“So? I'm practically an employee.”
“You are not even close to an employee. You're the opposite of an employee. You,” he said, watching as Bucky snatched up one of his cookies and raised it to his mouth, “are a thief.”
Bucky shrugged. “Eh. When do you get off?”
“Nine,” Steve said, smacking Bucky's hand as he moved for another cookie.
“Cool. Nat's trying to set you up again.”
Steve sighed heavily. “What does that mean?”
“She's been texting me all day,” Bucky said through a mouthful of cookie. “She says she's gonna get Stark to write an algorithm.”
“You know, I hoped when she started dating Bruce she was gonna drop this whole thing.”
“Naw. She's tenacious. Plus, now she feels indebted to you for helping to set them up.”
“I didn't do that!”
“Yes, you did. We did, remember?”
“Damn,” Steve said, rolling back through his memory. “Well, I guess now that Clint's with Laura she needs someone else to meddle with.”
Bucky grinned. “Better you than me.” He brushed past Steve, pausing just behind him to reach around him and grab another cookie. Steve felt the warmth of his body pressed close to his, barely touching, his breath warm on Steve's neck. Steve shivered slightly, his breath caught in his throat, and then Bucky was gone, cold air rushing in to fill the vacuum he'd left behind.
“Thief,” he managed to croak out. Bucky just swung around in the doorway and winked at him before leaving.
Steve took a moment before brushing his hands off on his apron and heading out into the cafe proper.
Pietro was leaning on the register looking bored, which was his usual expression. Steve often got the feeling that the world didn't move fast enough for Pietro, who always seemed happiest during rush hour with twenty people screaming orders at him. His sister was sitting on the other side of the counter with her boyfriend Vision and what appeared to be a math textbook. Vision looked like he was very intently explaining a problem to Wanda, who was watching his face a little too dreamily to be focused.
“What's wrong with you?” Pietro said suspiciously to Steve, thick eastern European accent only highlighting the grumpiness of his tone. “You're all weird and red.”
This dragged his sister's attention away from Vision. “You are red,” she said, hopping off her chair. “Are you sick?”
“I'm not sick,” Steve said.
“You look sick,” Pietro said.
Wanda had come around the corner and was trying to feel Steve's forehead with the back of her hand. “I'm not sick,” Steve protested, knocking her hand away. “Shouldn't you two be working?”
“There are no customers,” Wanda said.
“So go clean the coffee pots or something.”
“What's wrong with you?”
“Nothing!”
“Steve, if I may, there does appear to be something off about you,” Vision interjected softly.
“I'm fine. I was just in there baking. It's hot.”
Wanda glared at him, arms crossed over her chest. “You're lying.”
Steve was never more grateful to hear the door swing open in his life.
“Tony!” he cried enthusiastically, bounding forward to the cash register. Tony looked momentarily surprised by Steve's enthusiasm, then nodded slightly, seeming to accept it as his due.
“Coffee me, Rogers,” he said. Then he paused. “Why are you so red?”
“Shut up,” Steve muttered, grabbing a cup. “What do you want, Banner?”
“Tea, please,” Bruce said. “Is Natasha here?”
“I don't think she's home yet, no.”
“She just called,” Pietro said. “Rehearsal went late, she'll be here soon.”
“You guys going out?” Steve said, steeping Bruce's tea and pouring Tony's coffee.
“Yeah. I think she wanted to meet you guys after we got dinner, but don't hold me to that.”
“Bucky mentioned that, yeah,” Steve said. Wanda looked up sharply.
“Barnes was here?” she said, voice a little too knowing for Steve's taste.
“Yeah, he stopped by,” Steve said, determinedly casual.
Wanda let out a knowing little “humph” that did not sit well with Steve at all. She leaned over to her brother, who had somehow materialized at her side, and hissed something in his ear to low to hear. Steve felt his cheeks burning furiously and pretended to be checking on something in one of the refrigerators in an attempt to cool his face.
“What are you doing?” a voice said from behind him. Steve jumped, narrowly missing banging his head on the top of the fridge, and looked up to see Natasha standing over him. Her red hair was tied up in a bun, the only indication that she had just come from a six hour long rehearsal for the ballet troupe she and Bucky belonged to.
“Looking for milk,” Steve said, trying to sound innocent.
Natasha nodded to the counter above him with a skeptical eyebrow raised. Steve followed her indication to find a carton of milk sitting on the counter.
“Well,” he said. “That explains why I couldn't find it.”
Natasha rolled her eyes and crossed around the counter, wrapping her arms around Bruce's neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. He smiled and blushed at the contact.
“I'm gonna go get changed,” she said, “and then I'm taking you out for dinner.” She straightened and looked around. “You guys want to get a drink later?”
“I do,” Pietro said quickly. Steve glared at him.
“Give it three years, kid.”
“Sure,” Tony said. “Pep's off on business and Rhodey's overseas, so I've got nothing to do.”
“Great,” Natasha said. “Steve, you come too, I'm bringing the costume designer for the troupe and I think you should meet her.”
Steve sighed. “Natasha.”
“What?” She rolled her eyes. “She's your type and everything, a real firecracker of a brunette.”
“I don't have a type,” Steve said, offended.
“Yes, you do,” Natasha said. “Look, I'll invite James and Peggy too, how's that sound? It'll be a nice big group with no pressure.”
It took Steve a moment as always to remember that the “James” Natasha was talking about was Bucky. “Fine,” he sighed. He wasn't actually dreading it as much as he pretended. He always did like the people Natasha set him up with – he actually had a standing jogging date with the last one, Carol. But it wouldn't matter. None of them did. The only person who'd ever come close to supplanting Bucky for him had been Peggy, and even that had been the sort of love Steve wasn't certain he'd find again.
"I make no promises," he said sternly. "And you're buying."
The girl turned out to be named Janet Van Dyne, who insisted on being called Jan within a few minutes of meeting her. She did turn out to be Steve's type, he had to admit slightly begrudgingly – physically, at least, with dark hair and big, expressive eyes in a wide and well defined face. She had a light and bouncy personality to her that he found charming and refreshing.
“I have to be honest with you,” she said around the straw of her drink, grinning up at Steve from the bar. “I know Natasha brought me here to set us up.”
“I imagine it wasn't that subtle,” Steve said, a similar grin on his face.
“Well, even more honestly,” she said, “I'm not gonna go home with you tonight.”
“That's very honest,” Steve said.
“Sorry!” she giggled. Steve laughed too. “It's just – there's a guy. We're very off and on, but – I do love him. So I'm not gonna go home with you tonight.”
“What makes you so sure I was gonna take you home?” Steve said, his eyes dancing along with hers. She shrugged.
“I wasn't. Just wanted to make the situation clear.”
“Well, that's good,” Steve said, “because I wasn't going to. Take you home.”
“Oh?” she said. “Why not? You got a girl?”
Steve smiled a little regretfully, ducking his head. “Not a girl, no.”
“A boy, then?”
He looked over across the bar, where Bucky seemed to be playing Natasha for ownership of Bruce in a game of poker. “I wouldn't say I got him. But I wouldn't have gone home with you.”
Jan sat there quietly beside him for a moment. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “We're sad drinking right now, and this,” she said, pointing to her pink and fruity drink, “this is not a sad drinking drink. So I'm gonna go put on some Walk the Moon on the jukebox, and then you and I are going to dance like idiots, because that's what we are.”
Steve smiled again. She had that effect, he was beginning to notice. Jan hopped off her stool and wove her way over to the jukebox in the corner, waving for Steve to follow her.
Bucky met his eyes before he could, and something in them halted him for a moment, a deep melancholy sadness Steve hadn't seen in Bucky's eyes in a while. Steve tilted his head, a silent question, and the look disappeared, replaced by Bucky pointing towards Jan with raised eyebrows and a thumbs up. Steve rolled his eyes and moved to follow Jan onto the tiny dance floor.
“Why aren't you going home with her?” Bucky said, leaning against Steve's chest on the subway home. Steve shrugged carefully, trying not to dislodge him.
“She has a guy,” he said. “Hank, apparently.”
Steve couldn't see Bucky's face to know what he thought of this.
“Right,” Bucky said. “I think he came by the studio one day. Reminds me of Bruce, but more awkward.”
“Is that possible?” Steve said, smiling at the thought.
Now Bucky shrugged, using the roll of his shoulders to shift himself closer to Steve, pressing his face into the crook of Steve's neck. “Steve?” he said, muffled, and his breath tickled Steve's neck, making every hair stand on end. “I think I'm drunk.”
“I think so too, Buck,” Steve said with a smile, resting a hand on the back of his head.
“M'sleepy,” he said.
“Don't worry,” Steve said, gently stroking his hair. “I'll wake you up when we get home.”
He felt the rise and fall of Bucky's chest slow against his own, sensed the moment when he drifted off into sleep, and in that instant he would have ridden the train till morning if it meant he didn't have to wake him.
“I'm going crazy,” Steve said, pushing the barbell into the air. “Right? I'm going completely crazy.”
“Be fair, Steven. You've always been a bit odd,” Thor said.
Steve glared up at Thor where he stood above him, spotting the weight Steve lifted. “Thanks, Thor, you're a real pal.”
“Come, be optimistic,” Thor said. “Why not simply tell Barnes of your affections?”
Steve thunked the weights back down onto their supports and sat up, wiping his brow. “You know why not.”
“No,” Thor said. “I've found that directness and honesty in romantic relationships works out for the best.”
“Yeah, but this isn't a romantic relationship.”
“You want it to be.”
“I also want a million dollars but all I've got is a stack of ones crumpled under my pillow,” Steve snapped. “It's not gonna happen, Thor.”
“It's hardly impossible that Barnes feels the same way as you.”
“He doesn't, Thor, trust me.”
“Why? Why are you so convinced he can't feel the same way about you? I think it's fairly clear his interests swing both ways.” Thor's giant arms were crossed over his chest, biceps swelling in the picture of masculine strength, but his face was warm and his eyes were gentle and concerned. Steve sighed deeply.
“I've known Buck a long time, and if he wants someone, he goes after them. He doesn't wait for someone else to make the first move.” Steve rose from the bench, turning his back to Thor for a moment. “If he – wanted me, he'd let me know. I'd know.”
There was a moment of silence behind him, for which Steve was grateful. Then Thor's big hand came clapping comfortingly down on Steve's shoulder.
“Shall we finish the day in the ring?” he suggested sympathetically. Steve chuckled softly, more of a release of tension than any real humor.
“You really think you can take me?”
“Oh-ho!” Thor's eyes sparkled with cheerful mischief. “A challenge! You'll rue those words, Rogers.”
Steve awoke to a calloused hand shaking his chest.
"Stevie, c'mon, you gotta wake up. Come on, Stevie."
Steve blinked, eyes heavy and dry. "Buck? What time is it?"
"Three o'clock. C'mon. There's a meteor shower going on. You have to come with me up to the roof."
"Three AM?" Steve said, rolling towards the clock.
"Steve, come on," Bucky said. Steve sighed, sat up slightly, and pushed off his blanket.
"Okay. What are we going to see?"
The sky was a mass of lights, even with the glare from the city below. Bucky had brought up blankets, and two mugs of tea sat steaming on the railing. Bucky immediately laid back on the roof, chattering about this constellation and that shooting star. Steve moved slower, grabbing his tea and a blanket and wrapping himself up before sitting at Bucky's head. After a moment Bucky shifted, moving his head into Steve's lap. The place where the back of Bucky's neck rested on Steve's thigh blossomed with a warmth that slowly filled Steve's whole body. He reached out a hand to tangle through Bucky's hair. It was soft as silk. Bucky let out a small noise of affection and Steve smiled with an intensity that felt like burning.
I love you, he wanted to say. Buck, I love you.
"Reminds me of Van Gogh," he said instead.
Bucky tilted his head up to met Steve's eyes, wide grin on his face. "I thought it might."
There was so much love in his eyes, and that was what made it hurt - knowing that Bucky loved him, and knowing that it wasn't enough - it burned worse than if Bucky hadn't loved him at all, than if he'd never looked at him with eyes full of starlight and awe.
He wanted to kiss him. Instead he just bit his lip and ruffled Bucky's hair. "You're a nerd, Barnes," he said affectionately.
"Uh-huh. Keep up that talk and I'll stop bringing you out to see cool shit like this."
"Well, I can't say I'd miss being dragged out of bed at three in the morning."
"Yes, you would," Bucky said definitively. "You love this."
Steve's hands tangled deeper into Bucky's hair, just for a moment. "Yeah," he said, and his voice was a little choked up, a little hoarse around the edges. "I do."
“Movie night,” Natasha had said as soon as Steve accepted her call. “You, me, and Sam. Bruce is going to some dumb-ass conference-”
“The biggest convention of the year,” he'd heard Bruce say in the background.
“-And Clint's sleeping over at Laura's so we're hanging out. Sam has the movies list so I don't know what we're watching yet. But come over.”
Movie nights had been a tradition among those three since they'd met, so Steve had accepted without protest. Which was why after a night of throwing popcorn at Natasha's television and yelling loudly about diversity in Hollywood, he staggered upstairs into his apartment and almost tripped over Bucky pushed up against the wall by some girl he'd never seen.
“Shit,” Bucky said, instantly dropping down to help Steve up. “I thought you were staying at Nat's, Steve, I'm so sorry -”
The girl had a hand over her face with embarrassment, doing little to hide the red creeping up her face. She was blonde, he noted with a sharp pain in his chest, and beautiful.
He'd seen Bucky with a lot of casual relationships through the years, men and women, but it was the women who, for some reason, hurt the most. It made Bucky feel even more distant, extinguishing the small bubble of hope he could still hold when Bucky was with a man, the hope that he would look at Steve like that one day.
Steve came to the distinct conclusion that he'd had one too many beers to deal with this.
“Sorry,” he tried to say, and it came out as a stammer. He couldn't look at Bucky. He couldn't look at the girl. “Sorry. I'll – I'll just go.”
He thought he heard Bucky call after him, just before the door slammed behind him, but inertia was a powerful thing, and all Steve could do was keep moving, down the stairs he'd struggled up moments before and out into the blessedly cool air of the city.
Clint and Laura were making out on the counter of Hawkeye & Widow's, which everyone else in the shop – Wanda, Pietro, Sam, Nat, and Thor – seemed perfectly content to ignore as they sat around one of the tables playing a Russian card game Natasha said was called “loser.” So far the only actual losers were Clint and Laura, who didn't seem to mind at all.
The door to the kitchen swung open with such force that everyone, even the unshakable Natasha, jumped. Bucky swung into the room with the same amount of wild force.
“Is Steve here?” he gasped.
They all looked around worriedly.
“He went home about an hour ago,” Natasha said. “Maybe more. What's wrong?”
“He ran out,” Bucky said, looking frantic. “He just left, like he'd seen a ghost or something – he's really not here?”
“He ran out?” Sam said, worried. “Why?”
Bucky shrugged, looking miserable. “He came in, nearly tripped over Irene -”
“Who's Irene?” Clint asked, brow furrowed.
“A -girl, I work with her.”
“Oh,” Wanda said softly. The gentle sound seemed to suck all of the rest of the noise out of the room. Everyone turned to her. “You don't see it, do you?”
Bucky just stared at her with a blank desperation. “See what?”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as a look passed around the room. Finally Sam sighed.
“He's in love with you, Bucky. He's always been in love with you.”
There was a very different kind of silence.
“What?” Bucky said, and he sounded lost, uncomprehending. Sam bit his lip in worry. Natasha rose in one fluid motion to stand next to Bucky, one hand on his shoulder.
“It's true,” Thor said heavily. “Steve -”
“But – how?” Bucky said. Then he looked around, seeing them all for the first time. “You all knew this?”
“We guessed,” Natasha said softly. “James-”
“Jesus,” Bucky breathed. “Why didn't somebody tell me?”
“He didn't want us -” Sam began.
“Of course not. Of course not.” And suddenly Bucky was smiling, a wide, honest grin. “That idiot.”
There was a sudden halt of breath in the room. Bucky looked into Natasha's eyes. “He really loves me?”
“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly.
“That idiot,” he said again, and suddenly he was moving towards the door, a maniac spring in his step.
“Bucky?” Sam called. “What are you doing?”
“I'm going to go kiss that little punk until he forgets his own name,” Bucky said, spinning in the doorway to grin at the shocked crowd staring at him. “Idiot.”
And as suddenly as he had entered, he was gone.
“Well,” Pietro said dryly. “That was dramatic.” He laid down his hand of cards. “I win.”
“Steve!” a voice yelled from behind him. “Steven Grant Rogers!”
Steve stared out ahead of him, over the waters out towards the Statue of Liberty with a weary resignation. “Go home, Buck. I'm fine.”
“Steve,” Bucky said, and his voice was softer, and somehow strange enough that Steve turned to face him.
“Buck?” Steve said, and Bucky was standing before him, and there was something like nerves in his expression, in the way he stepped in close to Steve, so close the Steve had to look at him cross eyed.
“You're an idiot,” Bucky said, and kissed him.
Steve started at first, the sudden contact unexpected, and then his brain caught up to his body and he forgot everything but the feel of Bucky's lips, Bucky's teeth gently scraping at his lip, the way his hands cradled Steve so softly but gripped him so tight. It was nothing like he'd ever imagined, and just like he'd always thought.
Too soon they broke apart, panting greedily, their hands still running over every inch of the other's bodies. Bucky's hand came up to cup Steve's cheek, knocking his face gently to the side.
“Punk,” he said softly, eyes glowing.
“Uh-huh,” Steve gasped.
Bucky grinned, wide and hungry.
“Sorry,” Steve said, still panting slightly, “but – what the hell was that?”
“I love you,” Bucky said.
Steve's eyes widened, something like comprehension dawning in his face. “I – I love you too,” he said. Bucky chuckled softly.
“I know, dumbass. Sam told me.”
“Traitor,” Steve said reflexively, mind still working to process the idea that Bucky, Bucky had just kissed him.
“Well, him and Nat. And Thor. And Wanda.”
“I didn't even think Nat knew,” Steve said, shellshocked.
“Nat knows everything.”
“I guess you're right,” Steve said. He looked down at Bucky, focus sharpening. “You love me.”
“Yup.”
“Well,” Steve said, a wicked smile creeping across his face. “I guess that means you won't mind if I do this.” And he gently tilted Bucky's lips up to his own.
“Nope,” Bucky whispered softly. “I don't mind at all.”
EPILOGUE
“Well,” Jan said, a cheerfully sly grin on her face. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Steve grinned back at her from behind the counter. “Yes, it's quite the coincidence, us meeting at the coffee shop you know I work at.”
“That's enough small talk,” she said excitedly, grabbing his hand and dragging him over to the counter where she seated herself on a stool with an adorable bounce. She took a deep breath, composing herself for something dramatic, and then presented her left hand with a small “Ta-da!” An engagement ring sparkled on her finger.
“Jan!” Steve gasped, pulling the hand closer. She preened with an air of cheerful pride.
“He proposed two days ago, I've been so excited.”
“That's wonderful,” Steve said. “I'm getting you some cake, this deserves a celebration.”
“Thank you,” she said smugly. Then, softer but with more passion, “I'm so happy.”
“You should be,” Steve said, handing her a slice of chocolate cake. “You deserve it. You really do.”
“And you?” she said, looking up at him curiously. “How did yours work out?”
Just then the door to the coffee shop opened, the bell ringing cheerfully through the store, and Bucky came in, coat collar turned high against the cold. His eyes met Steve's and a warm smile spread up his face, setting Steve's heart to pounding.
“I think it turned out okay,” he said, eyes still locked with Bucky's. Buck winked at him and moved to hang his coat on the wall over the couch. Steve looked back at Jan. “No ring yet, but I can wait.”
Jan was smiling at him with a knowing air. “You really love each other, don't you?” she said.
“Yeah,” Steve said, still watching Bucky. “Yeah. We really do.”