Chapter 5
“I don’t know what to say to him!” Bucky tugged on his hair in frustration. Both Natasha and Clint looked at him, identical unimpressed looks on their faces. How did they look so similar? Natasha was always dressed to the nines, not a hair out of place, and Clint was, well, Clint. He always seemed to look like he’d just rolled out of bed after a wrestling match with a bear, if the numerous pink and purple plasters were anything to go by. Bucky, not for the first time, wondered how they had gotten together, much less stayed together long enough to get married. He supposed it was one of life’s mysteries. Much like this text to Steve. He groaned and flopped onto the sofa, kicking Clint further along so he could stretch his legs across his lap. Clint huffed in annoyance, but Bucky wasn't fooled. The big, goofy smile across Clint’s face said he wasn't really annoyed.
“Seriously Buck, I haven’t seen you this stressed about a cute boy since you met me!” Clint said, hands patting Bucky’s shins comfortingly. Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend and sighed, once again running his hands through his (really gross) hair. He needed a shower. And a conversation starter.
“Why don’t you just ask him to meet you for coffee? As a normal, platonic, not-date. Maybe go over arrangements for his extra lessons?” Natasha asked, a highly suspicious smile crawling over her face. Bucky didn’t trust that look at all, but he couldn’t think of how asking Steve to grab coffee with him could possibly warrant Natasha’s attitude.
“Yeah, but what do I say? I can’t just text saying, ‘Hi Steve fancy getting a cup of coffee and discussing my poor excuse for art skills while I try not to notice how pretty you are?’” Bucky whined, his fingers moving fast in sign so he didn’t have to lift his head for Clint to read his lips.
Natasha nodded her head, “that’s exactly what you say, possibly without the weird ass compliment. I’m not sure Steve would appreciate it so soon. Maybe save that for when you are actually dating, James. Not everyone likes their prettiness pointed out all the time, present company excluded of course.” At this, Natasha batted her eyelids in an over exaggerated mimic of every girl that had flirted with Bucky, right before they found out he was gay. Bucky laughed and threw a pillow at her head, missing by quite a bit. Clint snorted at his poor aim, so Bucky flicked his foot up and kicked him in the chin. This started an impromptu wrestling match on the sofa, which only ended when Bucky somehow had Clint’s head trapped between his thighs. As Natasha had so rightly pointed out, that was her move. Bucky didn’t really want to know the context of that move, but he got all the information he needed when Clint’s eyes darkened and Nat smirked at him. He released Clint’s head pretty quickly after that.
Bucky sighed, conceding defeat. He took Nat’s advice, and text Steve asking to meet up for coffee at a coffee shop Nat had recommended. Apparently it was the ‘perfect place to discuss art’ and the ‘hot chocolate was to die for’. Bucky always took her advice seriously, especially when chocolate was involved. Everyone that knew him also knew about his insane sweet tooth.
He told Nat he was going for a walk to scope out the coffee shop before he met Steve there, and couldn’t understand why her smile had grown impossibly wide. Clint jumped up to come with him, saying he’d bring Lucky. Lucky was Clint’s service dog, although he was way too hyperactive and he only had one eye. Clint liked to joke it was the blind leading the deaf, but by the sixth time he’d said it, Bucky and Nat had both told him to shut up. It didn’t stop him. Bucky knew Clint was only coming with him to make sure he was okay. Asking Steve for a coffee was a big step for Bucky, especially as he never went out without either Nat or Clint. He had severe anxiety after his accident and it always left him wary of new people. He hoped befriending Steve would help him overcome some of his hang-ups, but he also knew enough by now not to depend on Steve, and didn’t keep his hopes too high. He’d been hurt by way too many people in the past, people he’d considered his friends. They all dropped him as soon as he’d come out of hospital, his arm replaced by a whole host of mental baggage. Except, of course, for Natasha and Clint. Bucky knew he wouldn’t be here without them, which is why he didn’t put up too much of a fight when Clint followed him out the door.
“So. Now that Nat’s gone, you can tell me everything about your crush. What does he look like? Does he have a nice ass?” Clint wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, “come on, I want details about the boy who’s stolen my Buck’s heart.”
Bucky huffed a laugh, “Your Buck, huh? Last I knew, my bollocks belonged to Nat. She keeps them in her purse, right next to yours.” Clint laughed, startled at the quick comeback. Bucky smiled proudly. It was a well known fact that Natasha had both Bucky and Clint well trained. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe she actually did have their man-parts in her designer purse. “Man, I hope she lets me have them back if me and Steve do get it on.” Bucky sighed. Clint made an agreeing noise, tightening his hand on Lucky’s lead as they passed another dog.
Bucky wasn’t thinking about how Steve hadn’t text him back. He wasn’t. He was focused on keeping a conversation with Clint, and not letting him see how badly Steve’s lack of communication was affecting him. Reasonably, he knew Steve must be busy with work and not ignoring him, but it didn’t stop the anxiety crawling into his throat, making it hard to concentrate. Before he knew it, they were stopping in front of a small coffee shop, boasting the best hot chocolate in Brooklyn. It had a sort of hipster vibe to it, not somewhere Nat would normally visit, but Bucky figured the hot chocolate really was that good if it had persuaded Natasha to recommend it. Bracing himself, he opened the door. And promptly froze in the doorway. He now knew the reasoning behind Nat’s suspiciously bright smiles. She’d set him up. Behind the counter, in an adorable apron and cap, looking better than he had any right to, was Steve freaking Rogers. Fuck.