Nine months. That’s how long Steve had been out of the ice.
Nine months. That’s how long Steve had wished he had never been found.
He barely slept. That, in and of itself, was nothing new. Ever since he’d gotten the Serum, he needed less sleep than the average person and yet…
He barely slept, but he was always tired. It was a bone-deep exhaustion, all-consuming and ever-present. It weighted and ground on Steve, reminding him of the hours and days he’d spent in bed as a child, bound by sickness and pain, except this was so much worse because no amount of sleep, no amount of cool wet towels, hot tea, or loving hugs of his mum could make this go away…mostly, he just felt numb. Apathetic.
The missions helped. Kind of. They gave him something to do, something to focus on, something to distract him from all that had happened.
The team helped, too. Or at least they tried.
Tony showed, in his very own, very unpleasant way, that he wanted Steve to be as comfortable in the Tower as possible, shoving more money his way than Steve could ever imagine of spending.
Natasha and Clint seemed to have it made their mission to really make him a man of the 21st century – giving him books and movies and fashion tips.
Bruce, with is infinite calm, had offered Steve to join him in one of his yoga sessions, to listen if he ever needed to talk, to help him if he ever needed help with all the new technology out here.
Thor, when he was around, made for a perfect sparring partner, being the only one actually capable of keeping up with Steve’s Super Soldier strength.
So yeah…the team tried to help, but they didn’t. Not really.
See, Steve wasn’t stupid. Sure, he might have grown up during the Great Depression and before the Internet and cell phones had been a thing but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell when he was being watched.
JARVIS observed and reported Steve’s every move in the Tower to Fury and Stark.
Steve’s S.H.I.E,L.D. issued phone and laptop were scanned on a regular basis.
When Steve went on a run, he was followed by at least one agent. Every. Damn. Morning.
It was annoying to say the least.
Steve wasn’t stupid.
It had taken him a while to figure out the details but he knew that with the right attitude and a handful of cash towards the right person, everything was possible, because the world might have changed but it had also stayed the same.
Grant O’Kelly, that’s what he called himself outside the Tower now. That’s what the lease of the shoebox apartment in Brooklyn said. That’s what the lovely lady working in the bookshop called him, the man owning the Chinese takeaway place, the kid working at the bodega.
It was a start, Steve felt. Not much…but something.
Steve was just walking down the street to the little shop at the corner to get something to eat when he heard it. Grunts and swears and angry hisses. The tell-tale sounds of a fight. When he walked into the alley to see what was going on, he was met by a painfully familiar scene – two people fighting each other, one big and bulky, the other small, smaller even than Steve had been before the Serum. The little one, Steve wasn’t able to tell if it was a boy or a girl, was just scrabbling back on their feet, bright blue and pink hair falling into their eyes; eyes that spoke of burning anger and boundless fury and Steve – Steve couldn’t just stand there and watch.
“Hey,” he called out, grabbing the big guy by his shoulder and pulling him back, “Pick on someone your own size.”
The guy, a kid really, stared up at him, eyes wide, before he turned around and ran.
“The fuck, dude?” the smaller kid cried out. They looked Asian, eyes a deep hazel brown, one cheek scraped open and bleeding ever so slightly. “Why’d you do that?”
Steve, taken aback by the angry glare that was now directed at him, raised his hands in an appeasing manner, speaking softly, “I was just trying to help.”
“Help?” the kid repeated, a look of utter disgust on their face. “I don’t need help from people like you,” they spat out and then marched straight past Steve out of the alley, leaving Steve behind, feeling dazed and inexplicably sad.
When Steve had first learned that it was legal for people of the same gender to be together, to love and hold each other, to build a family, he had cried.
There had been a newsreel reporting on old video footage from inside some elevator that showed Tony Stark dry-humping some senator, a married man with two children. A scandal. The whole team had sat in front of the TV, staring at the image of a much younger Tony sucking face with a guy twice his age and Tony’s only response had been, “That was ages ago!”, completely unaware of Steve’s emerging panic attack barely two feet away from him. Steve had fled, then, all but running out of the room, the Tower, all the way across the city until he had reached his little sanctuary in Brooklyn and spent the night reading up on things that no one had mentioned to him so far, things that made him smile and choke back his tears as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that it was okay.
Steve met the kid from that alley fight again. It was an accident. It really was.
“Are you fucking following me?” the kid growled at him after Steve had watched them punch some guy in the face and then Steve had stepped in and the guy had run off.
“I’m not,” Steve reassured them, “I just –” I just wanna help.
“Just what?” the kid snapped, stepping closer into Steve’s space, not at all intimidated by Steve’s size, “Just thought some poor, queer Asian kid can’t possibly look after themselves? Just wanted to play the hero? Well, newsflash, pal – they can and you’re not.”
Steve couldn’t help it – he flinched. That word…that word.
“Why – why would you call yourself that?” Steve choked out.
“What?” the kid asked, clearly taken aback and confused by the question.
“Queer.”
They blinked. “Because I am?” they told him, making it sound more like a question than a statement even though it obviously was the latter, “It’s called reclaiming, idiot.”
Steve gulped, the echoes of bruises long since gone suddenly flaring up on his body, faceless voices hissing into his ear.
Dirty queer.
Invert.
Fairy.
“People have died,” he found himself saying, unable to stop, unable to keep his voice steady, “People have died because someone, at some point, associated that word with them. They were arrested or beaten to death and you – you –” you just willingly use it? You just paint a target on your back and look proud?
The kid looked at him with an unreadable expression on their face. “People have also died for that to change. They died, so that I can stand here and say I’m queer. Fucking deal with it.”
Steve wanted to – he wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hug this beautiful, brave person and tell them that he was proud of them. In the end, he got to do none of that because in that moment, there were steps behind him, entering the alley, and someone calling out, “Lee?”
The kid – Lee – looked past Steve and answered, “Over here.”
Steve turned around and saw five people, all older that Lee but most probably younger than Steve, approach. They were a peculiar group.
Queer, Steve’s brain supplied, in every sense of the word.
“Everything okay here?” the guy that looked like he might be the oldest asked. He was white, his skin seeming paler than it probably was with his dark hair and his dark eyeliner and his skin tight black leather pants. His eyes were fixed on Steve, suspicious and calculating, and Steve quickly stepped away from Lee so they could join their friends.
“All good, Bucky,” Lee answered and smiled at the boy. Bucky.
The others, Steve couldn’t say what gender they were either even though he was fairly certain the one with the curly hair was a girl – all made up and looking ready for a night out – fixed Steve with the same kind of glare Bucky did. Protective but also curious, and Steve had to fight the flush that was threatening to rise up his neck.
What if they recognise me? He wondered. Sure, he was wearing his cap and a hoody that was too big for him, hiding his bulk but still…what if?
But they didn’t say anything, and with one last glance at Steve, the group left the alley, already chatting amongst them, laughing and joking, as they made their way to wherever it was, they were going.
Steve had somehow managed to avoid his team for a week after the Thing that had outed Tony Stark on national TV, not ready to face any of them yet, not ready to explain why he had taken off so quickly, not ready to tell them that –
“Cap! What a lovely surprise to see you here,” Tony called out as Steve stood in front of the fridge in the communal kitchen on the search of something edible. “Busy week?”
“Hello, Tony,” Steve replied, ignoring that last question, hoping that, if he just pretended like nothing was wrong, Tony would get with the programme.
“Well?” Tony hopped onto the counter next to the fridge, fixing Steve with an expectant look who couldn’t quite supress the sigh.
“Well, what, Tony?”
“Well, did you have a busy week? Or could you just not stand the thought of being around queer old me?”
And there it was again…that word…
“Don’t call yourself that,” Steve muttered, finally closing the fridge.
“Why not? It’s who I am.”
And where Lee had been proud and provocative and purposeful, Tony just sounded like he was purposefully insulting himself and hoping for Steve to agree.
“Don’t call yourself that,” Steve repeated. He wasn’t even sure why, if Tony was happy with the word, he should use it except Steve got the distinct impression that Tony wasn’t happy with it. Wasn’t proud of it. Not like Lee. “Listen, Tony,” he began, following the urge to say something, “I – I’m sorry, okay?” He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Tony’s gaze. “I’m not homophobic. I just genuinely didn’t know it was legal now and I needed some time to wrap my head around that. I apologize for giving you the wrong impression.”
A part of Steve was proud of how steady and unwavering his voice sounded despite his heart hammering in his chest, too fast and too loud. Despite the sweat on the palms of his hands. Despite the tightness in his stomach and throat.
For a moment, just one tiny, little moment, Tony seemed speechless, then, he opened his mouth as if to say something before apparently thinking better of it and simply giving a curt nod and gliding back down from the counter.
“The world’s changed, Cap,” he told Steve, his voice kind, almost soft, as he slowly backed out of the room, “And you better get with the times, old man.”
The third time he saw Lee, it was too late…or at least that’s what Steve thought when he found them and two young men opposite of a coffee shop in the middle of the day a few days later. As it turned out…he needn’t have worried. Lee – Lee could fight. In fact, Lee could fight very well.
Steve stood frozen as he watched the kid dodge a punch from Goon Number 1 before immediately moving in and kneeing the attacker in the stomach, causing him to double over. They swivelled around and push-kicked Goon Number 2 into the dumpsters before he had even the slightest of chances to sneak up on them. Turning back to the first guy, Lee grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up enough so they were face to face.
“You done yet?” they asked and the guy just groaned in pain, his eyes watering and his nose bleeding. “Yeah,” Lee muttered, more to themselves than to the guy, “I thought so.”
With one last push, Lee shoved the guy to the floor and then walked out of the alley and into the coffee shop, sporting a black eye and bloody knuckles like war medals – their head held high and a smile on their face.
Steve lingered for a moment longer, tempted to call an ambulance for the two guys but they didn’t seem to need it since Goon Number 2 was already back on his feet and was now helping Number 1 up, supporting him as they both limped out of the alley.
Steve blinked.
And blinked again.
And then his eyes fell on something lying in the ground. A ring. It was a simple, black band with a silver engraving on the inside-
Lee.
Twiddling with the thing, Steve approached the coffee shop and peered inside. There, in the corner, sat the five friends rapidly listening to the sixth’s story which undoubtfully included an alley fight with two idiots who had pissed off the wrong person.
Steve went inside, hesitating. He hated how awkward he felt – these people, these kids, they were all younger than him, except maybe Bucky, and yet they terrified him.
“Hey, Lee,” one of them, the one that Steve thought was a girl, somewhere in her twenties with dark skin and bushy, black hair interrupted her friend, eyes fixed on Steve, “There’s the white boy that keeps steeling your fights.”
And just like that, six pairs of eyes were fixed on him, waiting.
“I – ehm- I –” Steve cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt but…I think you dropped this earlier.” Forcing his hands to stop shaking, Steve held out the ring.
“Oh shit,” Lee exclaimed, “Thanks.”
They took the ring from Steve, slid it onto the middle finger of their right hand, and Steve let out a shaky breath.
“Hey,” Bucky spoke up, his voice and eyes soft, “What’s your name?”
“Grant,” Steve answered, suddenly extremely grateful for the fake identity.
Bucky smiled. “Well, Grant, I’m Bucky, I use he/him pronouns. That’s my sister Becca,” he pointed to the person next to him, hair as dark and long as Bucky’s bound up in a messy bun, “She/her,” Bucky explained. “Next to her is her boyfriend, Rob, he/him pronouns.” A small guy with freckles and ginger hair gave a small wave. “Then there’s Fiona, she/her.” The black girl that had spotted Steve first gave him a nod. “Louis, he/him.” The guy sprawled out on the couch, feet in Fiona’s lap and head in Bucky’s, smiled at Steve and moved to sit up. “And you’ve met Lee,” Bucky finished, “They/them pronouns.”
“Hi,” Steve managed to say, feeling his face heat up.
“Why don’t you join us?”
And despite the tight knots in Steve stomach that seemed to be becoming a constant condition, Steve swallowed down his nerves and did exactly that.
Miraculously, no one seemed to notice.
Steve kept sneaking out of the Tower to meet up with the Gays™, as they called themselves, but none of his teammates ever mentioned anything and, listen, Steve wasn’t complaining about that. He wasn’t. It was better this way. And yet…sometimes Steve wished they would. Sometimes he wished they’d just confront him about his secret and make him tell them, just to get it over with, just to get an opening to talk about this thing inside him that he didn’t know how to voice.
It never happened.
What did happen, was that Steve, more often than not, found himself almost forgetting where to draw the line between Captain America and Grant O’Kelly.
“Hmm, I’m thinking…Inglorious Bastards!” Clint exclaimed, as they all sat down for movie night and Steve couldn’t help himself, he let out a snort and shook his head, before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to know what that movie was about but it was already too late. Natasha’s eyes were fixed on him like a predator zeroing in on its prey while her face remained perfectly blank.
“I didn’t realise you’ve already watched that movie,” she said, her voice steady and not betraying any thought she might have had.
“I –” Steve began, cursing himself for being so utterly careless, “I’ve seen it. Couldn’t tell you when or where.”
He knew exactly when or where. Four days ago, lounging on Bucky’s couch, sharing a huge bowl of popcorn with the man in question who had used Steve as his personal pillow.
Natasha nodded slowly while her attention never wavered for even a second and Steve had to force himself to keep his breathing even.
“I’d like to watch it again,” Steve quickly added, “I don’t remember it all that much.” Which was…true. Kind of. In the way, that Bucky was one of those people that just would not shut up during a movie, always keeping a running commentary on what was happening, his favourite scenes, and the hotness of the actors. It was very distracting.
“I’ll get the popcorn!” Clint all but shouted and jumped of the couch, or rather, fell backwards over the backrest he’d been perching on and then continued scrambling to to his feet and stumbling towards the kitchen, completely oblivious to the tension between Steve and Natasha.
Slowly, the redhead settled back into the armchair and Steve allowed himself to relax a bit.
Sometimes, he really wished someone would force him to tell the truth.
“I’m going to the shop,” Bucky announced while they were all in the living room, “Anyone need anything?”
“Tampons,” Rob replied without looking up from the chess board in front of him as Becca made her move.
“Condoms,” Louis added, lying on the couch, his legs up on the backrest and his head hanging off in the air, staring at the TV upside-down.
“Death,” Lee mumbled from the table, looking like they were nearing a mental breakdown as they stared at the textbook in front of them.
Bucky chuckled lightly and walked over to his friend. “Chocolate okay, too?” he asked and Lee gave a non-committal shrug. “Take a break, kiddo,” Bucky whispered as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Lee’s hairline, “You been working yourself to death all day.”
And they had.
As far as Steve knew, Lee was the youngest of the group, barely 20 years old, and currently struggling through a psychology degree. They were all viciously protective of the kid even though Lee had been doing Krav Maga since they’d been 16 years old and was more than capable of holding their own in a fight.
They all were, really.
“It never hurts to know how to protect yourself,” Bucky had told him once, and Steve wholeheartedly agreed.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Bucky called out, pulling on his leather jacket as he walked to the door, “Don’t burn down the house, kids.”
The house in question belonged to Bucky’s and Becca’s parents. It was big, impressively so, with six bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a garden with a pool in the back. George and Winifred Barnes used to both be important figures in politics and had apparently decided to spent their early retirement travelling the world, trusting their children with the house who, in turn, had decided to offer their friends free accommodation in one of the best places possible.
And somehow Steve now counted as one of those friends… It seemed surreal, like one of the fever dreams Steve used to have when he’d been small and sickly, just this side of too colourful and too unlikely except this wasn’t a fever dream…it was very much, very real.
Steve had taken up Bruce’s offer on meditation exactly once. It had been a stormy day and even Steve had had to admit that going out on a run in that kind of weather was pointless, so he’d gone to the gym in the Tower but even after hours on the treadmill, after breaking three punching bags, after nearly breaking Natasha’s arms in a friendly sparring match, he still felt restless. He’d sat on his floor, staring out the window, when Bruce had come in and kindly but very firmly suggested Steve come with him.
Meditation, as it had turned out, was not something Steve would describe as enjoyable. The music playing in the background, the sound of the ocean softly waving in the wind, was all he could hear, all he could focus on, reminding him of long painful hours trapped in a plane in the middle of nowhere, the cold slowly creeping in as he gasped for breath, water filling his lungs, his skin feeling numb, so cold it burned and he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t –
Bruce had shaken him out of it then. Had given him a blanket against the violent shivers running down Steve’s spine, given him a hot tea and spoken to him in a soothing voice, but in that moment, Steve had decided to never try meditating ever again.
They were all getting ready to go to a club. The Gays™.
Steve watched as Fiona did Becca’s makeup, while Lee was doing her hair. Rob was already half-way through a bottle of wine as he watched, and Bucky and Louis were having some kind of contest where they tried to out-gay each other.
“It’s what they do,” Becca had told Steve in the beginning with a spectacular eye-roll.
Tonight, they both seemed to be going all out.
Bucky had his long hair up in a messy bun, his icy-blue eyes shining even brighter with the black eyeliner, mascara, and smokey eyeshadow. He was wearing a blue crop top that showed off his abs, and the same low-waist leather pants he’d worn the first time Steve had seen him. Bucky’s boots had a very impressive heel that made him taller than Steve.
Louis, with his blond hair that almost seemed white depending on how light fell on it, had gone for pink and rosé makeup, his shirt almost see-through, his jeans leaving nothing to the imagination, and he, too, was waring high heels. Bright, pink, glittery, high heels.
“Jury?” Bucky asked, looking at the others expectantly who turned around and looked from Louis to Bucky to Louis and back to Bucky.
“Bucky wins,” Lee decided after a minute, sending Louis into a streak of very colourful swears while Bucky preened.
“It’s the crop top, isn’t it?”
“It’s the crop top.”
Steve, too, had dressed up. At least a bit. In Bucky’s clothes.
“Can’t have you coming with us looking like a grandpa, Gant,” Bucky had said before making Steve strip right there in front of him and have him try on several outfits before he’d been satisfied. Steve had the feeling that some of those outfits had only been given to him so Bucky could watch him undress a few times more than strictly necessary. “Gotta show off the goods.”
The goods were very much being shown off, Steve thought. Bucky was slightly smaller than him so the shirt Steve was now wearing clung to his chest like a second skin.
“I’m hungry,” Rob announced, standing up from the couch, “Anyone up for some pizza before we leave?”
“We literally just ate,” Louis replied and Rob shrugged.
“So? You’re usually one who always complains we don’t have enough food.”
“You make me sound like a bottomless pit. I’m not”
“Nah,” Lee chipped in from where they were still sitting on the floor, “But you are a bottom.”
Even though Steve should be used to that kind of jokes by now, he still couldn’t help the minor spit-take he did.
“You okay there, Grant?” Becca asked between giggles.
“Never better.”
“I missed you at the gym at my last visit, friend,” Thor said, walking up to Steve and enveloping him into a crushing hug.
“I didn’t know you’d come by,” Steve replied, pointedly not going into detail about what he had done that time. It had been a good weekend.
“Aye, my mistake. I shall announce myself properly next time so we can fight.”
“We can spar now, if you’re free,” Steve offered and Thor accepted enthusiastically.
It should have helped. Sparring always helped. Steve didn’t have to be careful with Those because no matter how hard he punched, there was no risk of doing actual damage.
It should have helped.
But it didn’t.
The music was loud in the club, the air hot and stuffy. Hundreds of bodies pressing against each other, sweaty and intoxicated.
Steve watched in the dim light of the dance floor as Bucky was surrounded by several guys all trying to touch him, to dance with him, but Bucky’s eyes were fixed on Steve, a flirtatious smile playing around his lips before he dragged Louis in for a kiss, eyes still locked with Steve over Louis shoulder.
“Don’t just stand there,” Fiona yelled into Steve’s ear, “Join them.”
Steve wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe the music. Maybe the flickering lights. Maybe the feeling that this couldn’t possibly be real.
Steve joined them.
Even though alcohol had absolutely no effect on Steve, he still felt drunk, standing there in the middle of the dance floor, making out with both Bucky and Louis before Louis slowly backed away and then it was suddenly just Steve and Bucky.
Panting, Steve dragged himself back up on his feet, wincing slightly at the pain in his ribs.
“You are distracted, Captain,” Thor noticed, “It should not be this easy to beat you.”
“Yeah…sorry,” Steve muttered, walking over to the side to drink some water.
“What is it that troubles you?”
Steve turned around, taking in the very literal god standing in front of him. While Steve was drenched in sweat, Thor looked like he had barely done anything for the past hour, his hair looking as majestic as ever, but there was concern in his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Steve answered, making sure to hold Thor’s gaze who gave a curt nod but something told Steve that he didn’t fully believe him.
When Steve woke up, it was to the feeling of warm sunlight on his face.
He knew where he was.
After the making out, Becca had made them all have shots and they had danced some more. Louis had found some guy to take home, and Lee had gotten into another fight. How Lee had even gotten into the club in the first place was unclear to Steve but he didn’t particularly care either since they all looked out for each other and Lee was a good kid. They’d gone home after that; Steve the only sober one, making sure everyone else was okay and drank enough water before going to bed.
Bed for Steve had meant Bucky’s bed.
Since the first time Steve had stayed over night at the house, about three months ago, it had been an unspoken agreement that Steve and Bucky shared Bucky’s bed…not that Steve was complaining.
“Urgh.” A disgusted sound came from behind Steve back and he turned around to look at Bucky who was plastered to Steve.
“You okay?” Steve asked, careful to keep his voice soft and quiet.
“Feel like something died in my mouth,” Bucky muttered and opened his eyes and Steve – Steve had to fight hard against the laugher bubbling deep in his chest. Bucky looked ridiculous. His hair was a mess and the makeup he hadn’t bothered to wipe off was now all over his face, making him look like a disgruntled racoon. Letting out another groan, Bucky rolled out of bed and shuffled towards the door, not even bothering to put on any clothes.
Steve chuckled lightly to himself and got up as well.
It was still early. The house was quiet, safe for the sound of the shower running while Bucky cleaned himself up. Steve walked into the kitchen, making coffee for everyone and looking through the fridge for something to eat.
Pancakes. Pancakes sound good.
He was just about to start mixing the batter, a cup of coffee next to him, when Bucky came in, looking far more alive than he had earlier.
“What’re ya doing?” he asked, taking a sip from Steve’s coffee and grimacing at the amount of milk and sugar Steve used.
“Making breakfast,” Steve answered bemused, taking his coffee back. Sue me for having a sweet tooth, he thought.
“No.” Bucky shook his head. “No, you’re the guest, you sit down, I make breakfast.”
“It’s no problem, really,” Steve argued, “You’re probably hangover anyway.”
Bucky gave him an unimpressed look. “I didn’t drink that much,” he replied, and then added in a stern voice, “Sit. Drink that atrocity you call coffee. Let me make breakfast.”
And, well…who was Steve to deny such a direct order.
Grant O’Kelly, a voice in the back of his mind whispered, that’s who you are right now.
Steve let out a soft sigh. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to do this. How much longer he’d be able to lie and act and pretend like he wasn’t leading a double life.
One look at the clock told him that it was barely 8, which meant the other probably wouldn’t be up for at least another hour, probably longer, which meant –
“Hey, Buck?” he spoke up before he could chicken out.
“Hmm?” Bucky hummed without turning around.
“There’s something I gotta tell you.” Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat and he quickly took a sip of his coffee.
Not saying anything, Bucky turned off the stove, washed his hands and quietly took the seat opposite to Steve, his face open and patient.
Steve swallowed again.
His ears could very clearly hear the ticking of the second hand as time passed and passed and passed –
“My name,” he started, hating the way his voice wavered, “My name…it’s not Grant.” He didn’t dare look at Bucky. “I mean it is. It’s my middle name but it’s not my name and –”
“Hey.” A gentle hand touched Steve’s. “Breathe,” Bucky reminded him and, indeed, Steve had kind of forgotten that breathing was a thing he needed to do. “I know.” For the second time in a row, oxygen seemed to leave Steve’s lungs as the words hit him and he forced himself to look up, expecting – he wasn’t actually sure what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been this. Bucky looked…soft. Gentle. Genuine. Understanding.
“How – how long?”
A small smile passed the brunet’s face, “Since the fist time I saw you. The others know too, I think.”
Steve blinked in confusion. “Then why didn’t you –? Why would you –? What –?“
Bucky shrugged, now smiling in earnest and it was something that lit up his while face, making his eyes shine bright and clear.
“You said your name is Grant and who the hell am I to tell you otherwise?” he answered like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Steve shook his head vehemently. “No,” he said, “No, I lied to you, I –” but before he could even finish that thought, Bucky interrupted him, his hand tightening its grip on Steve’s.
“No,” he said firmly, “You did not. D’you think Becca’s birthname is Becca? Rob? Lee?” He shook his head. “They’re not. Those are names they chose. You chose to be Grant. The same way I choose to be Bucky. As long as you’re comfortable with that name it’s none of mine or anyone else’s business.”
Steve stared at Bucky, at this wonderful man who could play Bohemian Rhapsody perfectly on the piano, who could sing and dance and throw a mean punch. Who didn’t hesitate to help his friends and now looked at Steve like he was a still just the white boy that kept stealing Lee’s fights even though he knew –
“You can call me Steve…if you want.”
“That’s not my choice,” Bucky replied.
“I want you to,” Steve corrected, his eyes dropping down to their joined hands on the table.
“Okay, Steve,” Steve all but whispered, squeezing his hand before pulling it back and standing up. “Now, I’ve got pancakes to make. Stop distracting me.” He threw a wink at Steve over his shoulder and Steve couldn’t help it. He laughed.
It took about two hours for everyone to find their way into the kitchen, some more coherent than others, but eventually they were all there, sitting at the table, chatting and joking with each other and Steve just couldn’t get that damned smile off his face as he was surrounded by this weird, amazing group of people.
His friends.
And then everyone fell silent because suddenly there were two more people in the room.
“Mum! Dad!” Becca cried out and jumped to her feet to greet her parents.
“Hello sweetheart,” Winifred Barnes laughed as she hugged her daughter, “Quite the party you got here…late night?”
“Could have been worse,” Bucky replied, waiting for his turn to give his parents a hug.
“Last time I checked there were only six people living here,” George Barnes remarked, scanning the table that held not six but eight people, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.
“I was just leaving,” the guy that Louis had hooked up with announced and quickly made his way out of the kitchen, shifting Mr. Barnes’ attention towards Steve.
“Then you must be Grant,” he said, extending his hand, “Bucky never shuts the hell up about you.”
There was a choking sound coming from somewhere behind Mr. Barnes’ back followed by several giggles and Steve was sure his face was on fire as he took the hand.
“Actually,” Steve started, meeting Bucky’s eyes who gave him an encouraging nod and a smile despite the deep flush on his face, “It’s Steve. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes”
“Steve then. Call me George.”
And just like that, it was over. He’d just told everyone his name. His actual name. And the world was still turning.
“Winifred,” Bucky’ mum introduced herself, giving Steve a warm smile before her eyes grew serious and her handshake iron, “Now, you treat my boy right, you hear me?”
“I – er –” Steve stuttered, unable to say much of anything.
“Mum!” Bucky cried out in exasperation, “We’re not – We haven’t – Just…no…why are you like this?”
See, the thing was…she wasn’t wrong…not necessarily anyway. True, Steve had painfully little experience when it came to relationships but he did know that he and Bucky…well, it had the potential for something more. Steve certainly wouldn’t mind and if the utter embarrassment on Bucky’s face was anything to go by, neither would he.
“I’m just saying,” Winifred said, holding up her hands as she strode past Steve and took a pancake from the platter, leaving Bucky on full view for Steve.
No, Steve thought, Bucky definitely doesn’t look like he’d mind.
It was one of those rare occasions where everyone was actually at the Tower.
A lazy Sunday.
Except it wasn’t Sunday and nothing at the Tower was ever lazy.
“That is such a dirty lie!” Tony exclaimed and Clint scoffed.
“You just don’t know what you’re talking about,” the archer replied, deep distaste in his voice.
“Excuse me?” By now, Tony had jumped to his feet and Steve was beginning to get worried about the pizza that was on the table between them.” I know perfectly what I’m talking about! You are just plain wrong!”
“No, I’m not. Superman would totally beat Batman in a fight!” Clint all but yelled, getting to his feet as well and – yes. There it was. “Aww. Pizza.” Argument completely forgotten, Clint stared sadly at the pizza on the ground while Tony went into the kitchen, still grumbling under his breath about how very wrong Clint was.
It was movie night at the Tower and Steve missed his friends. His other friends. His real friends.
But aren’t these my friends, too?
He’d managed to come clean with Bucky weeks ago, so couldn’t he do the same with the team?
And say what? – By the way I’m bisexual and friends with a group of queer kids from Brooklyn, please pass me the popcorn?
Yeah, no…that was unlikely.
“Is someone’s phone ringing?” Tony asked as he re-entered the room, breaking Steve out of his thoughts.
“That’s mine,” Steve said after a beat, frowning as he pulled out his phone. His personal phone.
“Is that a new phone?”
That the team didn’t know existed.
Bucky.
“Hey,” Steve greeted his friend, trying to stand up from the couch but the ragged intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a small sob made him freeze. “Buck?”
“Steve,” Bucky pressed out and, deargod, he sounded like he’d been crying.
“Bucky, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Steve,” Bucky repeated, sounding so much more urgent, his breathing irregular and way too fast.
“Buck. Bucky!” Steve called out, sitting on the edge of the couch, painfully aware that everyone was looking at him. “Bucky, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?” It took a few moments but eventually Bucky’s breathing calmed down. “Good. That’s good,” Steve muttered into the phone, forcing himself to stay calm. “Where are you?”
“Hospital.”
Steve closed his eyes, his heart beating violently in his chest.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I – I’m fine,” Bucky answered wobbly, “It’s Becca, she – oh god – Steve she’s hurt. She’s hurt real bad and they say she might not – they say she could –”
And just like that, Steve’s heart stopped. Becca. Sweet Becca.
“Is anyone with you?” Steve made himself ask.
“No.”
“Okay. Okay.” Steve nodded to himself, getting up despite his shaky legs. “Which hospital?” he asked, not looking at anyone while Bucky gave him the name. “Okay,” he said once more, “I’m on my way. And, Buck? Becca’s gonna be fine.”
He really hoped that was true.
Taking one second to collet himself, Steve put the phone away and turned to Tony who was already staring at him, his expression unreadable.
“I need to borrow a car.”
“I can do you one better.”
Steve would forever be grateful that, despite his occasional unbearable moments, Tony was one of the best people Steve knew, not even hesitating to fly Steve to the hospital in a Quinjet.
“You’re in no condition to drive, Cap,” he’d argued when Steve had tried to insist on going by himself and, as much as Steve hated to admit it, Tony was right.
It took too long. Everything took way too long. And by the time they had finally reached the hospital and Steve had practically jumped out of the still hovering vehicle, it felt like hours had passed.
Bucky was sitting in the waiting area, slumped over on a chair, his hands buried in his hair.
“Bucky,” was all Steve could say as he fell down on his knees in front of the brunet.
“Hey,” Bucky choked out. His eyes were red from crying but the thing that hit Steve the most was the emptiness behind the usually so bright blue colours. Without hesitation, without even quite knowing what he was doing, Steve pulled Bucky down into a hug, holding onto him as tight as he could, one hand buried in Bucky’s hair. “I can’t lose her, Steve,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s shoulder, “I can’t.”
“I know. I know.”
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Five minutes or five hours. It didn’t matter. Steve’s held onto Bucky firmly, yet gently, running his hand through the brunet’s hair and whispering encouraging words into his ear.
When the doctor finally came out and called Bucky’s name, the others were there, pale and concerned, and Bucky walked over to the doctor, Steve never leaving his site.
“Mr. Barnes,” the doctor began, his face unreadable, “Your sister is stable for now. She suffered from severe head trauma, several broken ribs and internal bleeding, she is still unconscious and most will likely not wake up for a few hours at the least. As discussed with Mr. Stark, she’ll be ready to be transferred to the Avengers Tower Medical Facilities in the morning.”
Steve could practically feel Bucky’s confusion as they all stared at the doctor.
“I’m sorry, what?” someone finally managed to asked.
Tony – Steve had totally forgotten that he was still there – waved his hand from where he was standing in the background. “Hello, friends of Steve that I didn’t even know existed,” he said, “Tony Stark, here. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Don’t mind me.” After giving them a slightly awkward smile, Tony started to slowly walk off but before he could reach the corner, he turned around once more. “And you’re welcome, by the way. Any friend of Steve and all that crap, right?” And then he was gone and Steve was left staring at the empty corridor, wondering why Tony was like this…
“Shit…” Bucky muttered under his breath, turning to Steve to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Whoa, hey.” Steve quickly reached out to place his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “What are you sorry for?”
“I know you didn’t want your team to find out –” the brunet started but Steve cut him off, “None of that,” he said, “I’m glad you called me and…whatever I can do to help…”
“I’m glad you came,” Bucky replied, giving Steve a timid smile before facing the doctor who was still standing there. “You said I could see her.”
“Yes,” the doctor replied, eyeing the others warily and added, “Just you.”
As Bucky followed the doctor, Steve ran his hand over his face and into his hair, the severity of it all slowly sinking in.
He looked around, gaze falling on Rob who had taken Bucky’s place on the chair.
“Hey,” Steve said, sitting down next to him,” How’re you holding up?”
Rob turned his head to look at Steve, trying for a smile but only managing a grimace.
“I should have been with her,” he muttered, “I was supposed to be with her.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know.” Rob laughed bitterly. Mirthlessly. “Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, though. I know that if I’d been there, we would have both ended up here but y’know…? I was supposed to be there.”
Instead of saying anything, Steve simply raised his arm as an invitation and Rob gratefully leaned into him, resting his head against Steve’s torso.
They’d all stayed the night. Tony and Steve had taken turns getting coffee for everyone, and Steve had to admit that he was surprised by how companionable Tony was. There were no inappropriate comments, no insensitive questions, no complains, and Steve was grateful.
The sun had barely gone up when the doctor announced that Becca was now ready for the transfer, and then dragged Tony away so they could go over the last details.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Bucky said once Tony was back with a stack of papers.
“Ehh.” Tony waved him off. “Don’t mention it.”
And then they all boarded the Quinjet and set off to get to the Tower where a group of medical staff was already waiting for them to take in Becca.
“Right,” Tony announced as soon as they’d all entered the building, “I’m forbidding all of you access to the Medical Floor until you had a few hours of sleep.”
Which was fair, really, because none of them had slept during the night.
Mostly, the news were met with a weak nod and a yawn, Steve himself could feel the exhaustion in his bones, his brain, his very soul.
“No way,” Bucky exclaimed, wide awake despite the dark bags under his eyes, “I’m not leaving her alone.”
“Pal,” Tony addressed him, “The security and surveillance system in this Tower is better than in the White House. If your sister so much as twitches, you’ll be the first to know. Go to bed, get some goddamn sleep, ‘cause, frankly, you look like shit.”
Bucky, still not looking convinced, glanced at Steve who nodded in agreement. “It’s true, Buck,” he said, “If anything happens, JARVIS will tell you immediately. Won’t you, JARVIS?”
“Certainly, Captain,” answered JARVIS, making Bucky jump and look around frantically. “I can assure you, Mr. Barnes, that your sister is in good hands.”
“The best, in fact,” Tony added, sounding proud of himself, but Steve’s attention was solely on Bucky who gulped audibly before nodding his head.
“Fine,” the brunet said, his shoulders sagging as he all resistance left his body.
“Perfect.” Tony clapped his hands together. “You lot can all stay on one of the guest floors. Or Cap’s floor. I don’t really care.”
“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said, even though he knew Tony would just shrug him off as well.
They ended up on Steve’s floor.
Steve, Bucky and Rob cuddled together in Steve’s bed, the other three in the guest bedroom, and as soon as Steve relaxed into the mattress, Bucky on one side, Rob on the other, he his eyelids fell close and he asleep.
When Steve woke up, the first thing he realised was that he must have shifted in his sleep, because now he was spooning Bucky who was holding onto his arm. The second thing Steve noticed was that Rob wasn’t there anymore.
“Bucky?” Steve whispered into the silence of the bedroom.
“Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Shifting Steve’s arms, Bucky turned around to face the blond, the noses almost touching as they looked at each other.
“Steve –”
“Good morning,” JARVIS interrupted whatever it is that Bucky was going to say, “The team would like you to know that there is food waiting in the communal kitchen.”
“Thanks, JARVIS,” Steve said to the ceiling but made no attempt to move just yet.
“How’s Becca?” Bucky asked.
“Your sister is still asleep but the doctors are very positive about her condition,” the AI replied, “Your parents have also arrived half an hour ago.”
Bucky took a deep breath, relaxing into Steve’s embrace on last time before slowly sitting up, forcing Steve to let go of him.
“Better go and make sure they’re okay,” Bucky muttered and Steve couldn’t help but agree. What a horror it must be to be in a different country and then get a call telling you that your daughter had been attacked and was in the hospital with severe injuries…
“Yeah.”
Steve, too, got up and out of bed, lending Bucky some of his clothes, before they walked to the elevator.
The communal kitchen, though large, was packed with people – Lee was deeply invested in a conversation with Bruce, Fiona was shamelessly flirting with Natasha, Louis was drooling over Thor, Clint and Rob were quietly talking to George and Winifred, and no one immediately noticed Steve and Bucky walking in until they’d set down at the table and Winifred hurriedly stood up to get to her son, “Oh, honey,” he exclaimed, “I’m so sorry we weren’t there.”
“It’s okay, mum,” Bucky replied, his words muffled by the hug his mother was giving him, “Becca’s gonna be fine.”
Winifred leaned back and gave her son a stern look, “Of course she is,” she said decisively, “I’m not losing my favourite daughter because of some brainless thugs.”
“She’s your only daughter, mum,” Bucky reminded Winifred in a flat voice but Winifred just waved her hand.
“Semantics,” she said. “I swear if I ever get my hands on those bastards…”
“The police is already looking,” Lee said from where they were sitting cross-legged on the chair next to Bruce.
“And so are we,” Natasha announced, “There is security footage that clearly shows four men following your daughter into an alley.”
“Cowards,” George muttered, “Four against one…in what universe is that a fair fight?”
“It’s not,” Steve agreed, “We will do everything we can to help catch these people.”
Winifred gave him a grateful smile and pulled him into a hug as well, “Thank you, Steve,” she muttered before turning towards her son. “Keep him,” she ordered, making Bucky nearly choke on his own spit while Steve wished the ground would just open up and swallow him.
“Rebecca has just woken up,” JARVIS suddenly announced, effectively silencing everyone in the kitchen, “She is allowed three visitors at a time.”
It took Becca several weeks to get to a point where she was able to actually leave her bed and during that time, Bucky had practically moved into Steve’s floor, not willing to leave Becca alone more than strictly necessary, but she’d gotten there.
They’d gotten there.
Winifred and George had invited everyone to their house for a Thank-You and Welcome-Home Party, which meant that the Avengers were now sitting among the Gays™ and Steve in the middle of it all, wondering why he had been so hesitant to come out to his team in the first place because…in the end…it had been quite easy.
“So…” Natasha had said one night when Bucky had already gone to bed but Steve had stayed behind to finish his drink after watching a movie.
“So?”
“You never mention you were attracted to men.” It had sounded so casual, as if she’d just talked about the weather.
“You never asked.”
“True,” Natasha had conceded, taking another sip from her beer. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Bucky is a good person.”
“He is.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling that?”
“I already did.”
And that had been it. No tears. No heart-to-hearts. No drama.
From the next day on, Steve had completely given up on hiding his newly-found relationship with Bucky from the team…there was no point and, really, Steve enjoyed being able to be himself around these people that he trusted his life with.
Now, Steve and Bucky were sitting on the couch, or rather, Bucky was sitting, and Steve was lying on Bucky, using his as a pillow, holding one of his hands with his own and rubbing absent-minded circles on it with this thumb, while running his other through Lee’s hair who was sitting on the floor in front of them, exchanging fighting technique tips with Natasha. On the other sofa were Becca and Rob, happily smiling at each other, exchanging soft words and touches and gentle kisses, slowly recovering from the shock and the pain of Becca’s injuries.
“Now, tell me, Cap,” Tony spoke up, “How the hell did you end up with this lot?”
Instead of Steve, it was Lee who answered, sitting up a little straighter and raising their voice, “Let me tell you about the white boy who kept stealing my fights…”