Chapter 3
As they make their way down the weird, cramped, claustrophobia-inducing hallway that leads into the plane, Bucky can’t help but mull over what just happened. That was one of the most bizarre moments in his life and he can’t make heads nor tails of what the flight attendant was talking about.
He looks to Steve to try and make eye contact and ask him what the fuck that was all about, but Steve refuses to ackowledge him. He just resolutely looks ahead, his entire face still aflame with a ferocious blush. Before Bucky can even open his mouth to ask the questions that are burning away in the back of his head, they make it to the entrance of the plane and his mouth drops open for an entirely different reason.
Holy shit, he didn’t know what he was expecting with first class, but it certainly isn’t this. Their seats are so big they could probably count as full fledged beds, they look more luxurious than any furniture Bucky’s seen before, and he can’t wait to see how comfortable they really are.
He turns again towards Steve to comment about how nice their accommodations are and to finally thank him for upgrading him along with Steve, but Steve is still stubbornly not looking at him. In fact, he’s not facing Bucky at all. He’s busy stuffing his luggage rather aggressively into an overhead compartment.
Slightly hurt by what feels like an outright dismissal, Bucky turns around and does the same. He takes a bit longer to put his luggage away than Steve, using an extra moment to collect himself and his thoughts, wondering if he did something wrong to make Steve suddenly go all distant or if it has to do with the secret that Steve doesn’t want to tell him. He’s still contemplating how he should fix whatever happened between them, if he even wants to fix it, seeing as they haven’t even known each other all that long, when he feels a light tapping on his shoulder. He turns around and comes face to face with a sheepish Steve who anxiously runs a hand through his hair.
“Hey, uh, I’m really sorry about that. You must be really confused and probably have a few questions, huh?”
To say that Bucky has a few questions is an understatement. “Yeah, Steve, I’d say that I have more than a few questions. Like, what the hell was that about? Was that about the secret you don’t want to tell me?”
Steve grimaces because he knew that was going to be one of Bucky’s questions, the exact question he desperately does not want to answer. “Yeah, it has to do with that. But, please don’t make me explain it. I’m sorry Buck, it’s just that if I tell you, whatever this,” he gestures between them, “is would change. And I really don’t want it to. I’m, well, I’m having a real nice time with you right now. ”
Bucky is thoroughly conflicted. On the one hand, he understands how Steve must feel, and he knows he should respect Steve’s privacy, but on the other hand, he also thinks he deserves to know what he’s getting himself into if Steve turns out to be some kind of wanted war criminal or, god forbid, part of the goddamn mafia.
Bucky sighs and runs his hand through his hair, trying to come to a decision. “Ok, fine I’ll drop the subject. Just, answer me one question.”
Steve looks wary as to what that one question might be, but he concedes, and nods his permission. So as not to be heard, Bucky leans in close to Steve, just enough so that his long hair brushes Steve’s neck and his lips brush Steve’s ear. Steve tries to suppress a shiver at the fleeting whisper of Bucky’s soft lips against the sensitive skin of his ear and his cheeks automatically flush pink with the blush that Bucky’s grown quite fond of. Silently delighting in the way his proximity affects Steve, Bucky whispers, “Steve, tell me point blank. Are you part of the mafia?” It seems to take a moment for Steve to process the ridiculousness of Bucky’s question and to shake off the slightly dazed state he was in, but when he does, he doubles over in a fit of loud laughter.
The peals of laughter coming from their direction startle the other passengers, who all crane their heads to identify who dare disrupt the silence they paid more than 5,000 dollars for. Normally Bucky would shrink back from their gazes and try to escape from under their scrutiny, because the last thing he wants to do is call attention to himself. But at this moment, Bucky could care less that all the other first class passengers are staring at them like they are two spots of mold blighting the clean interior of their wealthy wonderland. He can’t help but snort at the sight of Steve completely falling apart because of his stupid question.
After a few more moments of uncontrollable, almost borderline hysterical laughing, Steve seems to have gained control of his amusement and though a couple more unconstrained giggles sneak through, he manages to choke out an incredulous, “Oh my god, no, I’m not. Sorry t’a disappoint.”
Now it's Bucky’s turn to chuckle as he puts his hand over his heart in mock relief. “No, you punk. I’m just glad I won’t be involved in a real life version of “The Godfather”.
Steve’s head perks up and he grins as he says, “Hey, I understood that reference!”
Before Bucky can question what he means by that, Steve turns around and promptly collapses in his seat. He turns to look up at Bucky and with a look of amazement on his face, says “Buck, sit down! These are ridiculously comfortable.”
Smiling at Steve’s infectious enthusiasm, Bucky practically throws himself on his seat, letting out a hum of delight at how comfortable the seat is. “Holy shit! I could get used to this.”
The overhead announcement system crackles to life and their pilot begins reciting their standard safety procedure speech. Their captain, droning on about what to do in case of an emergency reminds Bucky that in a few minutes they are going to be flying, god knows how many feet above the ground where anything could happen! He immediately stiffens in his seat and his now trembling hand shoots to clutch at one of his seat’s armrests.
The ever perceptible Steve immediately notices and shoots a concerned look at Bucky. This time it’s his turn to ask, “Hey, are you alright?”
Bucky turns toward him with an embarrassed expression. “Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just kind of scared of flying.”
Steve’s face falls into an even more sympathetic expression. “Oh no, is there anything I can do?”
“Thanks, but besides alcohol, there’s not much to be done. I’ll probably just try and sleep through the flight.”
Steve lets out a little chuckle, and, with a cheeky grin, says, “Well, if you get really scared, you can always hold onto me.”
Bucky’s lips automatically stretch into a grin in response and he teases, “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”
Steve’s still smiling with a fond look in his eyes, when he says “That’s exactly how it is.”
Bucky ducks his head at the sincerity in Steve’s eyes, a pleased smile gracing his face.
Their conversation seems to run out of steam after that and they fall into a comfortable silence as they take the few minutes before they take off, to adjust their seats and make sure they have everything they need for the 14 hour flight ahead of them.
***
As soon as they have lifted off and the ‘seatbelt on’ sign is switched off, a beaming air hostess clutching a tray supporting a couple flutes of champagne approaches the two of them.
“Would you gentlemen like a glass of complimentary champagne?”
Bucky’s eyes widen and he nods emphatically because, boy would he ever! The air hostess hands over two flutes of champagne with an amused smile and Bucky immediately takes a sip, savoring the sweet, dry flavor of the drink. He hands the other glass over to Steve, snuggles deeper into his seat, and thinks to himself that as long as nothing happens, he might actually be able to enjoy this flight. Fortunately for Bucky, his wish is granted and for the first 13 hours and 20 minutes of the flight, nothing exciting happens and Bucky spends most of that time sleeping on Steve’s shoulder, watching movies with Steve and reading the cheap paperback thriller he brought just in case he gets bored.