Chapter 4
Steve kept up a friendly chatter as they left the building and by the time they were at the end of the road James was surprisingly relaxed and the cold panicky sensation was pretty much gone. He couldn’t believe he’d asked Steve to call him Bucky. He didn’t even think of himself as Bucky anymore.
But when Steve called him Bucky, just casually dropped it in as he spoke, it sounded good and it sounded right.
He’d stopped using it after he got back because it had made him feel like he was playing a part, like he was lying, pretending to be a normal person like Bucky Barnes had been. Pretending, but not succeeding. At least if he was James he was acknowledging that he was someone new and he wasn’t tying himself to the old Bucky for comparison.
But when Steve called him Bucky, he didn’t feel any of that. Maybe it was because Steve hadn’t known him before, so there was no risk of comparison. Maybe it was just that he finally felt free enough to lay claim to that name again – to take it back from Hydra. To fight back, even in that small way, like he hadn’t been able to for so long.
It turned out that Steve, like Bucky, lived in Brooklyn, where he’d grown up way back in the last century.
“I figured you lived in the tower,” Bucky commented, curious.
“No, Tony insisted I have an apartment there, but I couldn’t bear to live there all the time. Brooklyn’s my home, even if it’s changed a lot. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“I know what you mean,” Bucky said, tucking his hair behind his ear as they walked along the pavement. “I was only away for a few years and it’s changed so much in that time. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.” He wasn’t used to talking so much and was feeling kind of self-conscious. It didn’t help that Steve was so damn attractive.
“Did you grow up there too?” Steve asked.
“I was born in Indiana but we moved when I was a kid,” said Bucky. “My dad was from New York.”
He had forgotten whole sections of his life, thanks to Hydra, but most of his childhood memories were intact. He could still remember the cornfield behind their old house in Indiana, the swing seat he used to watch the sunset from.
“Do your parents still live there?” Steve asked.
Bucky tried not to think about his parents’ deaths. There were some memories he was actually glad to have lost. He remembered the bare facts, but nothing else. He couldn’t remember how he’d found out, or the details of what had happened, or even what he’d done after getting the terrible news, except for making the decision to join the army.
His memories of his parents from his childhood were happy and loving, and then they suddenly stopped. He didn’t remember grieving. But that didn’t lessen the ache whenever he remembered that they were gone.
“No… my parents died when I was sixteen. Car crash. I don’t have any other family. That’s kind of why I ended up joining the army.” He hadn’t meant to say that much, but Steve was looking at him with sympathy and kindness. Bucky let his hair drop over his face, not sure what expression he was wearing.
Then Steve took his hand, the metal one, and Bucky almost leapt in the air in shock because he could feel it, not just the usual slight pressure, he could properly feel it, just like his other hand.
“Sorry!” He apologised, realising he’d made them both jump. “It- I can feel that!”
“Tony mentioned he’d made it more sensitive,” said Steve, smiling. “He wanted to make it as sensitive as your other one. I think he saw it as a personal challenge, actually. But he said he’d kept the pain receptors turned off, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
Bucky nodded, embarrassed that he clearly hadn’t registered anything Tony had said. Steve was still holding his metal hand, one thumb stroking lightly across it. It gave him a weird feeling in his chest, a nervousness, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
Steve let go of his hand after a few moments and when Bucky glanced up from behind his curtain of hair he noticed Steve was blushing all over. Steve caught his eye and they both looked away in embarrassment.
The rest of the walk was comfortable and they continued chatting and occasionally exchanging shy glances. Bucky lived at the closest side of Brooklyn and Steve walked all the way to his door with him. It had been a long walk and Bucky couldn’t really work out why Steve had decided to accompany him, but it was definitely appreciated. Steve hovered awkward for a moment as if he wanted to say something else, but in the end he just told Bucky it had been nice to see him again.
“Thanks for walking with me,” Bucky said and Steve gave him yet another warm smile. Then he turned away and Bucky fished out his keys, smiling to himself.
The rest of the evening passed in a calm content that Bucky rarely experienced. He made himself a nicer meal than he usually bothered with and finished reading his current sci-fi paperback out on his tiny balcony. This was a big deal for him, because even though his balcony faced the back of the opposite building and no one could see him on it, he still found it hard to go out there on bad days. But today had definitely proven itself to be a good day. Whenever he thought back to earlier he felt proud of himself for confronting his fears and going to see Tony, and happy that Steve had wanted to get to know him, and had walked him home. He consciously didn’t let his mind wander any further, not daring to get his hopes up that Steve had meant anything particular or that he would want to see him again. He just let himself be content.
The next day at work Nat and Clint picked up on his good mood and were extremely suspicious. Once he’d done his usual baking and cooking for the café, he spent most of his shift making a particularly extravagant chocolate cake while listening to the radio, ignoring how often Nat and Clint peered in at him in shock. Clint interrogated him about his love life yet again and Bucky didn’t even give him the murder glare, though he didn’t give up any information either.
By the end of his shift Natasha had somehow figured out that he had been to see Tony the day before. Bucky wasn’t sure quite how she knew, perhaps it was just because his arm was working better. He didn’t deny it when she asked him about it, but he just smiled and shrugged when she pressed for details. When she asked if Steve had been there Bucky faltered and that was enough for a smug Cheshire-cat grin to form on Natasha’s face. Luckily she didn’t ask anything else and he was able to escape at the end of his shift with his privacy and reputation mostly intact.
The day after that, Wednesday, Bucky was having yet another good day and decided to make a cheesecake, which wasn’t something he’d ever made before, but he had wanted to try it out. His chocolate cake had sold very well yesterday and Nat was encouraging when he proposed trying out more new bakes alongside the standard stuff they offered.
He was covered in cream cheese and flour when Nat stuck her head through the swing door, looking even more smug than she had the previous day, and told Bucky he had a visitor.
Bucky’s heart raced as he quickly wiped his flesh hand on his apron before taking the apron off and pulling off the plastic glove that he wore to stop cake mix getting stuck in the grooves of his metal hand.
Who would come and see him at work? No one knew he worked there. Hell, he didn’t even know anyone else except Nat and Clint. And now Tony, he supposed, and… Steve.
Trying not to look nervous Bucky pushed open the swing door and walked out behind the counter. Steve was standing at the counter wearing a baseball cap and square-framed glasses and a baggy hoodie. Bucky couldn’t help laughing at how ridiculous he looked. As far as disguises went, it wasn’t remotely effective, but Bucky supposed it would probably save him from being recognised in just a passing glance.
“Are you laughing at me?” Steve demanded in a fake-offended look but he couldn’t hide his smile. Natasha and Clint were staring at the two of them in disbelief but Bucky ignored them and stepped right up to the counter.
“Er… hey,” Steve met his eyes a little bashfully. Bucky felt himself blushing.
“Hi,” he said. He fiddled nervously with a pen on the counter in front of him. He was pretty sure he could actually sense Natasha rolling her eyes at the other end of the counter.
“How’s your day going?” Steve asked, still maintaining eye contact whilst somehow looking even more bashful.
“It’s okay,” said Bucky softly. Steve’s eyes were bright blue but there were flecks of green in them too. “’M making cheesecake for the first time.”
Steve’s face lit up. “Wow! I love cheesecake. What flavour is it?”
“Raspberry and white chocolate,” said Bucky. He decided to be bold. “It’ll be ready in about half an hour. You could try some… if you’re staying around?”
Steve looked genuinely regretful. “I wish I could but I have to get back to the tower. I just came to ask… to see if you wanted…”
Steve trailed off and looked awkward. Bucky could see Clint jumping around with excitement out of the corner of his eye and was thankful Steve didn’t seem to have noticed. Bucky hoped Steve was trying to say what he thought he was. He found himself grinning in a flirty way and quirking an eyebrow as if daring Steve to carry on. Something about the gesture felt familiar, though he didn’t remember doing it before. Steve’s eyes widened.
“I wondered if you wanted to - to go out sometime. With me. Like… on a date.” Steve managed to stutter.
Bucky beamed.
“I’d love to,” Bucky said honestly. “I have work the rest of the week, how about at the weekend?”
Steve’s face fell. “Oh, I’m actually away this weekend on a mission.”
Before Bucky could speak again Natasha was suddenly there, rota in her hand.
“Bucky actually has the rest of the week off,” she said firmly, grinning at Steve.
Bucky frowned at her. “No I don’t.”
Natasha grabbed a thick black marker and pointedly crossed his name off the rota.
“Yes. You do. I’ve been begging you to take holiday since you started, James. And now you have a very good reason to.” She winked at Bucky and backed off, leaving Bucky feeling relieved and slightly embarrassed.
Steve looked thrilled. “How about dinner tomorrow evening?” he suggested.
“That sounds great,” said Bucky honestly and they smiled at each other for another moment. They swapped numbers and decided Steve would pick Bucky up at his flat at 7.30.
After Steve had gone, Bucky tried to go back into the kitchen but Clint and Natasha swooped in.
“What the hell, man?” Clint demanded. “You didn’t even tell me you liked guys and then Captain America just turns up and asks you out! Captain America! You can’t just spring this on a guy?!”
Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, relieved that Clint looked genuinely happy for him despite his teasing. Natasha was staring at him with her typical assessing stare, but he could tell she was pleased too. As for Bucky, he felt he was riding a high of exhilaration he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He could barely even believe it was real.
Steve and Bucky texted back and forth the next day, mainly to arrange their plans for that evening but also chatting about their days off. Bucky had done his groceries and spent the day baking in his flat. He knew he was bringing his work home with him by doing so but he was unable to imagine not baking for the next four days and wanted to practice some new ideas to try out in the cafe. He also spent some time on the balcony reading and drinking coffee. It was a perfect day for him.
Steve said he’d been for a run and to the gym then spent the day cleaning his flat. He realised how boring it was and got kind of embarrassed, which Bucky thought was sweet. Bucky didn’t think it was boring to enjoy doing normal things, and he told Steve that. When he’d first got back it had taken him a long time to build himself up to doing even the most basic things, and he got a kind of pleasure even now in the knowledge that he could do things like wash up and keep his flat clean. He wished he could explain that and wondered if it was the same for Steve. But it wasn’t something he could say to another person, especially over text.
He left a good hour to pick out an outfit and he was glad he had. He had plenty of black t-shirts and long-sleeved tops and a few pairs of not-too-scruffy-but-definitely-not-nice black jeans for work, but he couldn’t wear them for a date. Steve had mentioned the restaurant was ‘smart casual’ (and then commiserated with him over how frustrating a dress code that was) so he dug through his cupboard for some nicer shirts and trousers he’d stowed in there. He’d bought them back when he first moved in and was trying to learn to be a person again. In the end he’d never actually worn them because it turned out going out and doing things had been a lot harder than he’d ever imagined.
It soon became apparent that Bucky was now a lot bigger than he had been when he first got back. The shirts strained obscenely across his broad chest and shoulders and the buttons wouldn’t do up at all. The trousers were worse, getting stuck halfway up his thighs. Bucky tried not to freak out. He peeled the offending clothes off and stood looking at himself in the mirror. How had he thought they would fit? He looked completely different than he had when he first got back, after being starved and tortured. He was healthy now and kind of huge. He hadn’t thought much about his body till recently; he'd felt kind of disconnected from it after what he’d gone through. He vaguely remembered it being something he thought about when he was young, when he had been conscious of people finding him attractive. He wondered now what Steve would think of his body.
He didn’t think he looked bad - apart from the scars, obviously, but in some ways it was a relief that Steve had already seen those. He just hoped Steve was into big guys. His muscle was reinforced with fat so he didn’t look toned like he suspected Steve probably did; he just looked huge and strong. His stomach was softer than he would like it to be, abs now hidden under a pillowy layer. He tried unsuccessfully to suck it in.
Oh god, he was really freaking out now. He was too big for all his clothes and Steve would be there in less than an hour.
Suddenly the doorbell rang and he froze. Oh my god. Steve was early. What the fuck was he going to do?
He yanked one of his work t-shirts and jeans on as the doorbell rang again. Oh god oh god. He was going to have to tell Steve he couldn’t come for dinner because he had nothing to wear. He checked his face and hair quickly in the mirror then went to the door.
It was Natasha. He’d never been so relieved in his life. He had no idea how she had known he needed her right now. She thrust a plastic bag at him and when he looked inside he saw that it contained a dark red shirt and smart dark grey trousers. He could have kissed her.
“Had a feeling you might not have anything for the occasion,” said Nat.
“How did you know what the occasion was?” Bucky asked as he ushered her in and closed the door behind her.
“I just had a feeling he’d pick somewhere fancy but not too fancy,” Nat replied. “Figured he’d want to impress but not intimidate.”
“Huh.” Bucky retreated to the bedroom to change. The shirt and trousers were really flattering and fit him perfectly. He spun around, admiring. He had another faint memory of dressing up like this and going dancing when he was younger. He pulled on some smart black shoes he’d found in the cupboard.
“How did you know my size?” he asked Nat as he emerged from the bedroom.
She wolf whistled and he blushed.
“I just guessed, I’ve got a good eye,” she said. “And the clothes you wear for work are practically skin-tight, Barnes. Had plenty of chance to observe.” She winked. Bucky went bright red.
“Well thank you for the clothes. Let me know how much you spent and I’ll pay you back. You’ve honestly saved my life. I was all ready to cancel my date,” he admitted.
Nat looked genuinely alarmed at that idea. “Well I'm glad you don't have to. Believe me when I say this, James - you deserve this. I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who deserves happiness as much as you do. I’ve never seen you light up with anyone like you did with him. Actually I’ve barely even seen you talk to anyone, ever.”
They both laughed at this. Bucky gave Nat a quick squeeze of the shoulder with his flesh hand and smiled. He knew she understood how much it meant, both what she’d done for him and what she’d said.
Suddenly the doorbell rang again. It was quarter past seven.
“He’s early,” said Bucky.
“You’ll be fine,” said Natasha. “Just be yourself.”
Bucky smiled.
He grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on.
“This look alright?” he asked. It wasn’t smart but he’d only be wearing it to get there.
Natasha grinned. “You look sexy as hell, Barnes. Now go and enjoy yourself. I’ll let myself out. Go out there and get your man.”