2347 words
To Steve’s surprise, the car lot was a huge building that held a large quantity of classic cars from all throughout the decades. There were a few other customers inside, and they turned to look at them when they entered the building. The cars were grouped chaotically by looks and style, rather than make and model. It was actually helpful for them because Bucky favored a particular look, and it was easy to find other vehicles of the style in different makes and models.
Bucky immediately sashayed over to a pink convertible Ford Fairlane and stroked it with his flesh hand, bending over slightly. “I think I want this one,” he said with a purr, glancing back over his shoulder at Steve, seductive and coquettish.
Oh dear god.
Once the image of Bucky bending over the hood and asking Steve to fuck him was in his mind, he was stuck with it, unable to cast it out.
The salesman approached, a smile on his face as he greeted them. “Hello, my name is Ronny, can I help you find something you might be interested in? Do you like that one, ma’am?”
“Ooh, yes,” Bucky said as he straightened and turned around, making Ronny do a comical double take.
He opened and closed his mouth, his face steadily turning pink.
“I'm here to buy a car,” Bucky stated, raising his eyebrow at the salesman. “I have several models in mind, specifically the Ford Fairlane and Thunderbird, and the Chevy Bel Air. I want power steering, power brakes, automatic transmission, good suspension, nice engine, smooth ride, AM/FM radio, automatic convertible top, leather seats, tilt wheel – all the trimmings, basically, and I want it to be a car that still has plenty of miles left to be driven because this will be my everyday errand car. Price doesn’t matter, I might even buy two.” He concluded his speech with too-wide smile that was not warm or sincere, making him look (and Steve said this with love) slightly deranged.
Steve heard Ronny gulp nervously. He pitied him, he really did.
“W-well, we definitely have a few cars like that restored in such a thorough way. If you’ll follow me…” he trailed off, practically slinking away.
After he had shown them several cars and talked about each of them in great detail, Bucky turned to Steve. “Baby, what do you think? Which one should I get for us?”
Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunching up. “Gee, Buck, I dunno, they’re all so nice.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “You're no help. Why I am marrying you anyway? Let’s call the whole thing off.” From inside his basket purse, Punk barked, seemingly in agreement.
Steve went cold then hot inside. He narrowed his own eyes. Fine. If that was the way Bucky wanted it, that was the way Bucky would get it. “Fine.” He walked in front of all the cars that Bucky had in consideration. He tried to think of what Bucky would like the most, what he would feel like a total knockout in. “The 1959 Cadillac Series 62 Convertible in bright pink.”
Bucky smiled widely; apparently, it was the right choice.
They took care of things very quickly then, and Steve was watching them roll it out of the store (Was the dealership a store since it was indoors?) before long, and Bucky was bouncing with excitement beside him a little. He was adorable.
“Oh, before you leave,” Ronny the salesman called to them as someone filled up the tank with some complementary gasoline, making Steve and Bucky turn around. “We have toy models of all our cars on the floor to give to their buyers eventually, so here’s yours.” He handed out the toy model to Bucky, who took it with an expression of soft awe. The sight put a lump in Steve’s throat.
“Thank you.” His voice was quiet, revered, and Steve shifted closer to him.
They sat down into the seat again, Steve depositing the bags of shoes in the backseat. Since there was no center console, Steve was able to sit as close to him as he wanted. Which was pretty close, his arm thrown around his shoulders. Punk’s head was poking out of the Hermes basket purse on the seat beside him, shooting Steve a few nervous looks. Steve didn’t attempt to comfort him, knowing he wouldn’t like it. Bucky took a deep breath before he cranked the engine and they sat there, listening to it purr again.
Bucky revved the engine with a wide, wicked grin and Steve felt a thrill make his stomach drop a little.
Without warning, Bucky gunned it, peeling away with a squeal of tires and loud, happy laughter. It was infectious.
“Steve, this is awesome!” he screamed happily as they tore down the street. Steve smiled at him, glad Bucky was so delighted by his choice. They drove around sightseeing, and they got all sorts of looks, a sight to see themselves. Bucky reveled in it, preening like a cat. He didn’t like other people, but he sure liked receiving their attention, good or bad.
He kept his right hand high on the wheel and his other out the window, and the sunlight sparkled brilliantly off his diamond engagement ring, captivating the majority of Steve’s attention. When Bucky noticed him staring, he pulled Steve into a kiss at the next red light, and Steve flushed hotly, knowing that people were definitely looking, but god, he didn’t care. Not when Bucky was so wanton and desperate for him, his tongue licking its way into Steve’s mouth and winding with his own.
“Daddy, I love you,” he whined out breathily, stopping Steve’s heart for a second.
The light turned green before he could even begin to respond, and Bucky gently moved forward at a sedate pace. The car had even been fitted for an AUX cord and new speakers, so when Bucky told him to hook up his phone, Steve knew what he was talking about, since he had quietly explained what each of the features he wanted were, exactly.
No doubt that Bucky thought he was hilarious when he told Steve to play Drive My Car by The Beatles, which blared out of the speakers and drew even more attention. They went to a Sonic drive-in downtown, and Steve felt weird about eating in such an expensive, classic car that had been so well taken care of and retrohauled. He was pretty sure eating in it was sacrilegious or something, but Bucky didn’t care.
“Just be careful and I’ll understand if you accidentally spill something. It’s no big deal,” he said while snapping a couple of pictures of his engagement ring against the steering wheel, something he needed Steve’s help with, since his phone’s touchscreen couldn’t register his metal hand, especially through the glove.
The carhop skated out to them then with their food, interrupting Steve’s fussing, and she complimented them on the car and their matching outfits, and even squealed over Punk’s bow tie.
“Oh my god, we should go skating,” Bucky gasped as she skated away, making Steve blink. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach and he gulped, thinking of what a fool he’d be. He was only graceful when fighting, a fact he was well aware of and had come to terms with long ago.
“Do we have to?” he asked, wheedling.
It had been the exact wrong thing to say, he realized when Bucky’s eyes lit up with sadistic glee.
“Oh, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Now we gotta. It’ll be fun, watching you fall on your ass.”
Steve hung his head with a resigned sigh, trying to fight a smile.
They received many compliments as they ate, the outdoor patio area filled with people sitting at the tables who looked over at the car appreciatively. Steve gave Punk several bits of his sausage, sneaking in pets between bites. Bucky watched them, amused. After he reapplied his lipstick and threw their trash away in one of the trashcans on the patio while earning several looks himself, they left for a skating rink, to Steve’s horror.
When they pulled up to the rink, Bucky pulled the top up and immediately got out while Steve debated the merits of stealing the car and stranding his fiancé there. “Are you coming, Daddy?” Bucky wondered, setting Steve’s blood ablaze.
He followed suit, trying unsuccessfully not to appear too much like Bucky had him wrapped around his finger, especially when he called Steve Daddy, sweet baby Christ.
The rink was not very busy at all, to his relief, and they rented some skates for a couple of hours, the woman behind the counter cooing over Punk and how he looked so cute sticking out of Dorothy’s basket. It looked like she didn’t have a problem with Punk joining them, seeing as he was going to stay in the basket hanging from Bucky the whole time, like Bucky told her.
Bucky was a little unsteady on his feet at first, but Steve's amusement didn’t last long, because Bucky was gliding across the room, his skirt flowing out behind him, flashing his red underwear that Steve had actually forgotten about until that moment. How could he have forgotten?
Steve watched in awe as Bucky crossed his feet over one another, twisting his toe, skating backwards. He did this a few times, gaining confidence until he removed the Hermes basket purse and set it down on the edge of the rink. Then he skated back towards the middle of the room, gaining speed until he twisted backwards and then leapt up into the air somehow, twisting three or four times before landing down on one skate, his other leg pointed out behind him, his arms spread, like he was flying, and his eyes were closed, his head thrown back and tilted to the side, with as much skill, grace, and poise as Steve had seen Olympic level figure skaters use.
Steve’s jaw dropped, his brows furrowing in an expression of absolute incredulity. Holygoddamnshit.
Bucky dropped the pose, positively beaming, and returned to where Punk was, having been watching Bucky loyally, and slipped the purse around his shoulders again.
“Steve, are you coming? This skating thing is fun!” Bucky called out, and Steve could see his smile from across the room. He wanted to join Bucky even less now, after that incredibly impressive display. He swallowed nervously and then tried to stand up from the bench anyway. He wobbled then immediately sat back down. Bucky rolled over to him and pulled his phone out, making Steve blush.
“Okay, Stevie, let’s see that again,” he said, laughter in his voice as he pointed the phone at him.
Stevie glared at him.
He stood up again, wobbling unsteadily, much more than Bucky did. When he was a few steps away from the bench, a skate slid out from under him and he fell back on his ass.
Bucky laughed at him hysterically, making noises about how he got that on video while Steve did his level best to convey how much he absolutely loathed him with his eyes, which was pretty hard, considering how utterly adorable Bucky looked when he was giggling. On hands and knees, Steve stiffly crawled back to the safety of the bench.
When Bucky’s giggles died down, he put his phone up and yanked at Steve’s hands, pulling him onto his feet, making him flail wildly, bent over as Bucky tugged him forward.
“Come on, straighten up,” he said with a laugh, and slowly, Steve obeyed. “Now take two steps, pushing out to the sides. I won't let you fall. Again.”
The fucker was skating backwards to show off, Steve realized irritably.
He tried to take a small step, and flailed wildly, nearly over balancing. As Bucky promised, he kept hold of him, not letting him fall again.
“Try again,” he prompted Steve.
Steve did and his second attempt was just as bad as the first. Bucky spun fluidly around, now at Steve’s side, letting go of one of his hands, Steve’s arm jerking as he tried to keep his balance. His grip turned ironclad on Bucky’s arm, and Bucky didn’t say anything about how it must have hurt.
They skated like that for a while, if anyone could call Steve standing nearly motionless beside Bucky skating. He felt large and clumsy, his skates heavy and unwieldy on his feet, inferior next to Bucky. People were watching them both, clearly expecting Bucky to show off again or Steve to eat pavement.
Bucky tried to tone his obvious level of skill down to make Steve feel better, and he appreciated it, even while it also made him feel bad.
“You can show off for them, I don’t mind,” Steve told him, glancing up at Bucky’s face and almost falling when he hit the side of Bucky’s skate, no longer looking at his feet. It was only because of Bucky’s quick reflexes that he didn’t fall.
When Bucky recovered, he shot Steve an almost helpless look. “Steve, I’m not showing off for them, I'm showing off for you.”
“Oh,” he replied with a blush. He smiled at Bucky then, a burst of affection striking his heart like lightning.
Bucky returned it, soft and bashful, glancing away. He looked at Steve consideringly, and before he could ask Bucky what he was thinking about, Bucky spun around to skate backwards in front of him and pulled Steve into a kiss, soft and warm and gentle and making Steve melt, just like he claimed. He pulled away quickly, kicking out a little to turn them so they wouldn’t run into the wall, and then smiled into another kiss.
A bubble of laughter made its way up and out of Steve’s mouth because he felt like he was flying, soaring through the air and drunk off of it.
“I love you, baby,” Steve murmured to him.
He felt victorious when it was Bucky that ruined the kiss by smiling.