Sleepover
Sam was trying to have Sarah out of the house - under the argument that they were all 'boys' and she knew how 'boys act' she had brought them dinner but now she seemed she didn't want to leave and they could hear her bickering with her brother near the front door. Joaquín glanced at Bucky. He returned the look. The young man was holding his duffel bag with his two hands and they were standing awkwardly in the kitchen. The food that Sarah had brought them lay on the table, still wrapped. Finally, their heard the front door closing and Sam reappeared.
"I'm sorry for that," he sighed.
He moved towards the table.
"Did you write down all of her advice, Samuel?" asked Bucky, grinning.
Sam shot him a dark look.
"Shut up."
He drew the bag of food to him to check what it exactly contains.
"I'm sure she has made three times too much. Just like our ma did when we went on a picnic. We can cook, dammit! Well, I can cook." (Bucky groaned.)
Joaquín danced on his feet. He was wearing his uniform as he had flown to New Orleans then driven to Delacroix right after lunch, just as his week off started officially. The whole thing was planned - it was even Sam's idea - but he couldn't help but feel like a bother.
"I'm sorry for the trouble," he said timidly.
"What? No! No way. Bucky, while I judge what we have to eat tonight and what can wait for tomorrow, can you show Joaquín your room? And like, the rest of the house, in case he wants to shower now."
"Yup. Come on," Bucky said softly, turning to his friend.
The man threw his bag on his shoulder and tagged along. This house was quite similar to Sarah's. It was a two-story one, only smaller. On the upper floor, there were two bedrooms whose door faced each other and a bathroom at the end of the corridor. Bucky's room was the one on the left.
"After you," he said, opening the door.
The room was very large with a proper bed on one side and a closet taking all of the oppositive wall. There was a floor to ceiling window facing the door and a desk next to it. On the floor, a mat with a pillow and the light bedsheets had already been set up. On the farthest corner, Joaquín spotted boxes that he recognized as the one he had helped carried into Sam's van when Bucky had moved out from his flat in Brooklyn.
"I don't have many things," explained the brunet, "so you can just put your stuff against the closet. Or like, inside. I'll show you how the shower works if you're ready."
Joaquín briefly fought the idea of a shower that early in the evening. But then, he was in his military outfit and his trip, although short in hours, was long in all the places he went through. Better wash off that dirt and attend dinner in a more casual outfit. He put his duffel bag against the closet and rummaged through it to take out his towel and the clothes he felt like wearing. Bucky led him to the bathroom and explained everything. As he stood on the threshold, he finished:
"Take your time. When you're done, go downstairs directly. I'll be helping Sam but if there's anything, just scream and I'll be there, OK?"
Joaquín nodded, trying not to think too hard about - there's a spider in the bathtub, he screams, Bucky burst in by kicking the door and he finds him completely naked and... - yes, not thinking too hard about that.
Once he was clean with nice clothes on, he went downstairs. Bucky and Sam had moved the table outside so they could eat on the gallery. It was early enough for lamps to not be needed and the cool temperature of the nights hadn't settled yet. The whole dinner was enjoyable. They laughed and appreciated Sarah's cooking. As they finished, Joaquín and Bucky brought their plate back inside but Sam told them to drop the rest.
"You're probably tired," he told Joaquín. "Don't worry, you'll have your share of chores starting tomorrow."
Thus they were back inside Bucky's bedroom. Joaquín headed to the mat with the intention of taking his shoes off but Bucky stopped him.
"Actually, you're, er, I've prepared the bed for you."
Joaquín paused.
"What? But what about you?"
The young man glanced at said bed. Not that he didn't trust Bucky but he only now noticed how it was tidied up exactly as it would be for a guest.
"Oh, I'll sleep on the mat. Don't worry, I prefer it that way."
And as a way to end the discussion, he dropped on the mat. Joaquín frowned.
"That just sounds wrong."
So he sat on the mat too. They looked at each other for a few seconds. Then the curly hair one unlaced his boots, pushed them aside and sat cross-legged. Bucky did the same and they stared more. Joaquín noticed that despite wearing a long sleeve shirt, Bucky had rolled them up almost to his shoulders. His prosthetic arm seemed darker, as part of the night settling down. Joaquín cleared his throat.
"Can I, er, look at your arm? You can say no if you don't want to," he added quickly, his cheeks on fire.
Bucky didn't answer but reached out his hand. For some reason, the lieutenant had his heart beating fast in his chest. He approached the vibranium shyly and touched the wrist with only his fingers. Then wrapped his hand around it, to feel how the metal reacted to pressure. He looked up at his friend. Bucky had his eyes fixed on him. Slowly, Joaquín intertwined his fingers with the prosthetic's. Bucky grinned and he felt his own lips curving into a smile.
"That's so cool," he whispered.
Bucky closed his fingers on his hand and Joaquín looked at how their hands moved against each other. Contrary to his first thoughts, the metal was warmth under his skin. And tho it was definitely metal and hard, it was much more flexible that he had expected. Meanwhile the brunet, while not taking his eyes off him, slid his right hand under his shirt and pressed some points on his left shoulder. There was a shot of electricity spiraling down the metal arm and the thing dropped dead on the mat.
Joaquín screamed.
"What's happening? What have I done?!"
But as he met Bucky's eyes in search of an answer, the ex-assassin burst out laughing, so hard, in fact, that he fell backwards. Joaquín felt mildly annoyed at having fallen victim to the joke. Still, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable if not scared at the metal arm lying on the bedsheets, completely lifeless. Especially considering his hand was now trapped in it.
"Bucky...," he pleaded.
"Sorry, sorry!"
Bucky sat up but he was still smiling wide. (Best face Joaquín had ever seen.) The young man shook his hand and the metal arm wobbled too.
"A little help, maybe?"
Bucky grinned at him. Then he proceeded to take his shirt off. Which was something Joaquín was totally not expecting but something he was totally on board with, anyway. The man grabbed his prosthetic.
"I'm trying to find a way to do that same trick to Sam," he explained as he guided the shoulder into the socket. "Problem is, he already knows I can take my arm off."
Joaquín watched, fascinated, the socket and the arm clicking together. He felt the pressure on his fingers being lifted as Bucky opened his left hand. The man briefly stood up to stretch the arm and made sure all the mechanical and neuronal connexions were back on line. Then he sat back and smiled. Joaquín knew it was his moment to say something, if not act on their current situation - but the nerd part of his brain got the best of him.
"You should totally do the Buzz Lightyear's meme! You know, the one where he threw his arm at Woody?"
Bucky blinked.
"I'm sorry... What's a mee-mee?"
Joaquín stared at the handsome, topless man sitting not two feet away from him.
Alas, the nerd part always triumphs.
"You've got a lot to learn," he replied solemnly, taking out his phone.