Harry/Bucky Barnes
When they met in the hotel… Harry thought that a heated one night was the most they would have.
It was hot, it was everything.
It didn’t hurt that Harry was high as a kite, spotted the man at the bar, and knew he was bad news.
“Are you messing with me?” Harry asked when he found the same bloke at the bar the next night.
“I could be,” he smirked.
Harry shuddered and allowed himself to be led back to his own room and laid down and wrecked.
“When are you going to give me a name?” Harry asked after meeting the bloke a third time at the same hotel.
The bloke shrugged fit shoulders hidden beneath a leather jacket. “Does it matter?”
No, it didn’t.
Harry and the bloke fell in a pattern that became the center of Harry’s routine—
Go to work.
Get high with his friends.
Go to the hotel he was staying at while in town.
Find the bloke at the bar-
Fuck.
It was so easy and simple that Harry couldn’t quit if he wanted to.
Until he didn’t have a choice.
“Where is he?” Harry blurted, not spotting his mystery bloke anywhere.
The bartender shook his head sadly and pointed at the news on the telly.
‘THREE AVENGERS DEAD IN FATAL TERRORIST ATTACK’