Adagio

Steve Rogers thought he was hot shit. No, not even hot shit. He thought he was the shit. That, among a handful of other reasons, was why Bucky Barnes swore they could never be friends again. Steve served in the US Army for six years before leaving on a dishonorable discharge. Of course, he was actually considered hot shit back then, serving as the head trumpet his entire career. Now, for the Minneapolis Ballet Company, he was their main trumpet player and, really, the main brass guy in general. 

Bucky Barnes, on the other hand, joined the Minneapolis Ballet Company after graduating from their academy and dancing with the Minneapolis Ballet Company II for two years. Now, he was a lowly corps de ballet member. Or, was, until now. When auditions for Swan Lake came around, Bucky was determined to play Prince Siegfried himself. Somehow, he got lucky and got the part. Now, his “luck” was actually probably due to his recent inspiration to constantly condition and stretch, but it was still exciting. To add to the excitement, his best friend Natasha was playing Odette. That meant they’d get to spend more time hanging out together than they already did. The only problem with Natasha was she always pushed Steve onto Bucky. Always.

“I don’t understand what your problem with him is,” Natasha announced, sauntering into Bucky’s dressing room after a long day of rehearsals. Yes, he now had his own dressing room . It was the highlight of his career, just barely beating the time he slipped and fell on stage at a competition in high school.

“You don’t understand what my problem is with him?” Bucky asked. “Where should I begin? For starters, he’s a stuck up dick.”

Natasha sucked in air through her teeth. “Oof, harsh. When was the last time you even talked to him? High school? He took me out to shawarma last weekend and it was a great time. He even drove and paid for my meal. And never grossly complimented my tits or ass. Unlike half the other guys here, he’s a real gentleman.”

“That’s what you said about Benjamin Poindexter and look how that ended up.”

Natasha sighed and sat on Bucky’s vanity, kicking her legs back and forth. “Okay, I thought we agreed to not bring up Dex anymore. That guy was something else. Besides, Steve is a lot better looking than him.”

“Objectively. And being hot doesn’t make someone a good person, Tasha,” Bucky lectured.

Dex was a guy Natasha had dated when Bucky first got accepted into the Minneapolis Ballet II. He had a great smile and jawline, but that was all Bucky could say about him if he wanted to remain kind. Well, and that he was good in bed, but that was from Nat’s experience and not his own. He was a great baseball player, forced to leave the game due to the “accidental” murder of another player. When Bucky and Natasha knew him, he was a TSA agent. Some brief life advice, don’t date a murderer. Working for the government and having strong cheekbones does not make someone a good person.

“But if it did, Steve would be a saint. Actually, he’s already a saint. I think you should give him a second chance, Buck. You deserve to be happy. Steve could make you happy,” Natasha said.

Bucky sighed. “I understand that you think that will make me happy, but I’m happy now. I’m happy because I don’t have to deal with all Steve’s shit anymore. Plus I’ve got the role of my dreams. And you.”

“You could have a hunky trumpet player, too,” Natasha suggested, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

Laughing and gently swatting Natasha’s shoulder, Bucky got up to look at the photos pinned to his dressing room wall. Bucky and Nat. Nat. Nat and Matt. Bucky and Steve in middle school. Bucky dwelled on that last picture longer than he did the others, thinking back to a time before everything got so complicated. With a soft sigh, Bucky stripped the picture off the wall, carelessly discarding it on the floor. He didn’t want to think about Steve at all, which includes reminiscing on the past when things were good.

Nat had been the one to put those pictures up, which explained how he let one Steve picture slip through. He would’ve let the wall remain blank if she hadn’t dug through all his photos. The photo represented what used to be and it felt like it was mocking him; so much so that he felt the need to tear it up or burn it, it was still mocking him from the floor. What he and Steve used to have felt like a joke at this point.

“Things can go back to normal, you know,” Natasha said softly, suddenly standing behind Bucky. “You know it wasn’t his fault; he’s a better person now. Forgive him. Move on. It’s what he wants, too.”

Bucky ignored Natasha and pushed past her to grab his duffel bag. “I really don’t need this right now, Tasha. I’ve got a major role to prepare; I don’t have time to dwell on the past. I’m not upset with him for that anymore. I’m upset that he hasn’t changed: I’m just upset that he’s still a dick.”

Before Natasha could protest, Bucky had turned off the lights and was walking out of his own dressing room. Nat rolled her eyes and murmured, “Drama queen.”

Bucky’s apartment was nothing extravagant, due to the fact that he couldn’t afford anything fancy with his corps de ballet paycheck. All his furniture was from Ikea, and there wasn’t even much of that. The kitchen had a bar, so he didn’t have a table and chairs. There was a couch, but no chairs or side tables to accompany it. His room had a bed and dresser with a lamp, but that was all he cared to have. Nat always promised that she’d decorate it for him, but it hadn’t happened yet. Just like his dressing room, his apartment was filled with pictures. Natasha had put them up in chronological order for him one weekend, and he just never took them down. If he was being completely honest, they’d grown on him and he loved looking at them now. It was comforting to be surrounded by everyone he loved in an empty apartment. Only, he still didn’t want to see Steve Rogers’ face.

The problem was, everywhere Bucky went, Steve was there. They grew up as next door neighbors and best friends; a little more than just best friends, if Bucky was being honest with himself. When the friendship ended, they still lived next door. Eventually, Bucky got accepted into the Minneapolis Ballet II and Steve into the army band, and they had a little break from each other. A much needed break, at that. Now he was back.

Bucky’s main problem with Steve was that he always thought he was right. (In Bucky’s experience, he was only right about 25% of the time). Never once did he apologize for anything he did to Bucky. Yeah, he was pretty much a dick. A dick who was sending him text messages right now.

Hey, Nat told me you’re upset with me. Not sure what I did wrong. Maybe I can make it up to you this weekend?

Bucky scoffed and dialed Natasha’s number. He wasn’t a fan of Steve, but he didn’t need Steve to know about his beef. Steve felt superior to everyone as it was, so he didn’t want to give him more reason to. Knowing someone was mad at him would just fuel his narcissistic personality.

After a few too many rings for Bucky’s liking, Natasha picked up her phone. “Hey, Bucky. What’s up?”

“I just got a message from one Steve Rogers. You told him I’m still upset with him?” Bucky asked, pacing around his bedroom.

“It came up in casual conversation after you stormed off like a four year old. He just happened to be in my dressing room and saw that I was annoyed with you. It wasn’t like I sought him out. Stop being dramatic about this, Buck. It’s not that big of a deal,” Natasha reasoned.

“Considering I am the one calling you and not the other way around, you should know I don’t want reason right now. But, yeah, you’re right: I’m not gonna get mad at you over it. I mean, I’m still pissy with him but whatever, I’ve never not been pissy with him. I never even see him. Wanna come over and order out to take my mind off of it?” Bucky proposed.

Natasha smiled into the phone. “Honestly, I thought you’d never ask. And, yes, we are watching Versace again.”

Just like that, Bucky had a date planned for the night. He went to pick up his apartment before he remembered he owned barely anything that didn’t relate to his job, meaning the only thing he had to do was put his dirty laundry in a basket. Maybe Nat would get around to decorating his apartment for him eventually.

Natasha only lived a few blocks over, so it wasn’t long before she was barging into his apartment. She tended to walk in like she owned the place. Moments like that made Bucky regret giving her a key all those years ago.

Sauntering into the room, Natasha kicked her shoes off and set a bottle of sparkling grape juice on his counter. “It’s for your health,” she explained. “Prince Siegfried can’t have anything other than perfect physique, you know.”

Bucky put his hand over his chest and said, fake offended, “As if I don’t already.”

Natasha would be annoyingly perfect if Bucky was a woman, but he didn’t really feel any jealousy towards her. Her hair was bright red, naturally so, and perfectly curled with no use of heat or product. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of sea foam green and her smile was seductive, yet addictive. Not to mention the fact that her body was ideally shaped. And she had the best lines of anyone in the company. And was always super kind and generous to everyone. And somehow managed to eat and drink whatever she wanted without losing her physique. Yeah, she was pretty much perfect.

“Seriously, though, Buck,” Nat said. “You need to cut out alcohol, if you haven’t already.”

“You need to take the stick out of your ass. I’m fine,” Bucky responded. “Besides, everyone knows you’re the best we have and you tend to go clubbing every weekend.”

Nat smiled at him. “Hey, it does work for me buuuuut that doesn’t mean it’s good. I’ll cut it out once I stop being so bored all the time.”

Natasha plopped down next to him, turning on the tv and swinging her legs on top of his. She opened up Netflix and started the third episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace . Nat had been a fan of Darren Criss since his Glee days, so she forced Bucky to start watching it with her. He only put up with it because of his love for Natasha, but he ended up falling in love with everything about it: the cinematography, the acting, the story, and the way it brings light to the issues in the gay community.

After an episode, too much kung pao chicken, and not enough alcohol, it was time for things to get fun. Fun meaning having conversations that can only occur at night, such as what happens after death and how global warming will likely end the world in the next 30 years.

They started the conversation lightly, with some discussion of what will happen in the company in the next few years, as Nat was doing her nightly stretches on the floor and Bucky lounged on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through his Instagram feed. Halfway through his feed, he saw an interesting post from Nat’s understudy, Elektra.

 “Uh… Tasha?” Bucky asked.

Natasha remained in her straddle and only hummed in response.

“Have you, uh, been on Instagram recently?” Bucky questioned.

Natasha looked up at him. “How recently?”

“Very. Elektra posted something… questionable,” Bucky stated.

“Everything Elektra posts is questionable,” Natasha scoffed. “Show me.”

Bucky held out his phone to her, revealing what Elektra had posted. It was a clip of Elektra performing the iconic thirty two fouettes from Swan Lake in Nat’s Odile costume. She looked gorgeous, but that wasn’t the point. She was wearing a costume that wasn’t her own, and the caption made it even worse. “Catch me in Swan Lake next month.” Elektra was known to be extremely jealous of everyone, but mainly Nat. Elektra had been the star of her studio before coming to the company, so she wasn’t used to not being the center of attention.

“I mean, there’s not really anything wrong with that,” Natasha reasoned. “I mean, she will be in Swan Lake next month. To be honest, I don’t have that much of a problem with her wearing my costume, either.”

“She didn’t ask, it’s rude,” Bucky explained.

Nat rolled her eyes. “We already knew she was rude. She’s been rude ever since I stole the guy she wanted. Well, stole is her word and not mine. He never wanted her in the first place. I do have to give it to her, though, she’s got great feet.”

“Just the kind of person I need for my Ariana Grande ballet,” Bucky said.

If there would’ve been anything in Nat’s mouth when he said that, it would’ve been all over the floor by now. “Your what ?”

“Naaat,” Bucky groaned. “I’m pretty sure we’ve gone over this. I think we should do a ballet choreographed to Ariana’s best songs.”

“Where the hell would you get an idea like that?” Natasha asked.

“Remember that brief road trip we went on? To the Twin Cities Ballet Company? Well, it would be like that ballet,” Bucky explained.

“Thanks for that vague answer.”

“But seriously, didn’t you think of the two of us when you watched the Monopoly music video?”

“I think you’re delusional.”

“I just like ballets with vocal music. They’re modern and cool.”

“You just like not having an orchestra because that means Steve isn’t there.”

“I’m not that obsessed with him.”

“You’re that obsessed with Ariana Grande, though.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

The couple sat in silence for a few moments, a rare occurrence for them. It didn’t take long for the silence to become deafening, forcing Bucky to speak up. “God, I hate Elektra so much. More than anyone else, and that includes your precious Steve Rogers. You know, maybe I should give him a second chance, hear his side of the story.”

Nat smiled. “See? You two would be cute together. I can picture the wedding now.”

Bucky made a face at her. “No way that’s happening. I’m just gonna let him apologize, that’s it. But he has to be the one to come to me.”

“I could arrange that,” Nat speculated. 

“No way,” Bucky refused. “I want a natural apology. Just him approaching me after a rehearsal or something, spilling his heart to me over everything he’s ever done to me since elementary school. Because he wants to, not because a hot girl told him to.”

Nat, raising her eyebrows and laughing, asked, “You think I’m hot?”

“Objectively.”

“I’m just gonna ignore that comment. Hey, I don’t think we ever opened our fortune cookies. I actually know we never did. They’d be sitting on your coffee table if you had one, but they’re currently on the dirty floor,” Nat said.

“Hey, I dig the minimalistic look. Besides, you’re the one who promised to decorate it,” Bucky objected. “Toss me a cookie. Make sure it wasn’t crushed by your oversplits.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, but still threw him the cookie. Overhand. And a little too hard.

“Dude, you just crushed my cookie with that throw. Not okay,” Bucky protested.

Natasha laughed. “Easier for you to reach the fortune, then.” She cracked open her cookie, reading the fortune before digging in. “‘Take care of yourself first. Then help others.’ How telling. Looks like it’s time for me to become selfish. Buck, this means you get no more emotional support from now on.”

“Maybe it means you should yell at Elektra for stealing your costume before you compliment her,” Bucky suggested. 

“Hey, I don’t want to start any more beef with her than what she’s already created,” Nat protested. “Besides, I literally do not care about her or anything she does.”

Bucky opened his cookie and furrowed his brow at it. “‘It’s always the one you least expect.’ What does that even mean? I’m scared. Are you about to kill me?”

“Buck, I’m, like, 70% sure that’s from Beauty and the Beast.”

“So this is plagiarism or something?”

“I feel like you need a Xanax. Do you need me to go get you a Xanax?”

“Oh, chill. I just don’t like fortunes. I believe in fate and all, but I know someone just made this up. I only like the cookies, not the stupid sayings. And anyways, you’ve got me all riled up with all this Steve and Elektra talk. They’re the ones you should be offering your Xanax to.”

“You’re wack. I don’t get you.”

“You don’t have to. And for the record, I don’t really get you, either. All I know is that I’m bored with everything other than this new role and I’m going to find something new to entertain me.”

“And I’m sure you will. You always tend to bring something new and exciting into our lives.”

At that, Bucky pulled his phone back out. He closed Elektra’s Instagram and pulled up his texts, his thumb hovering over Steve’s contact. Making a split second decision, he sent a message.

Saturday at seven works for me.