Indulgence

Bucky paced back and forth, checking his watch every twenty seconds. He never really understood the true value of a minute until Steve’s flight would be there in fourteen. He clutched his drugstore bouquet of flowers in his left hand; tiger lilies, sunflowers, and black-eyed-susans.

Natasha had been right; a week was a long time for an elephant, but he thought he’d handled it well. Now that Steve was coming home, they could properly discuss everything. Bucky knew that sometimes Steve had trouble bringing up a topic, and even though the blond was generally more assertive, sometimes he needed a gentle prompt just to know that Bucky was on the same page. The last three weeks that Bucky had spent alone made him think about just how well Steve had kept the promise he made to him a little over a year ago. Bucky was so grateful for the way they could both freely give and freely take without feeling guilty, or secretly believing the other person had the better end of the deal. Bucky used to worry that he had the better end of the deal… he got an incredible, beautiful, strong Dom who took care of his every need and put him before himself, and all he had to do was call him sir, which wasn’t even a con to begin with. When they first started dating, he was concerned that everything he asked of Steve was too much, that his boss would eventually get tired of him always being so needy, but he never did. Steve enjoyed being Bucky’s Dom as much as Bucky enjoyed being his sub. The compatibility they had was stronger than the differences they might encounter, and Bucky knew that was why they’d happily lived together for a year. He was feeling optimistic to the time they’d spent apart, and although he was dreading it in the days before Steve left, and feeling miserable when he was alone, it had really made him appreciate what he had, and not take Steve for granted. He vowed to let the Snapchat incident blow over, or talk about it, if that’s what Steve was wanted. He trusted him to not be cybercheating, and the subject matter of the picture could be saved for another conversation.

New Mexico had made them stronger, and Bucky felt that things were changing. Normally, he’d be afraid of a change in their dynamic, a shift of what he’d grown comfortable with, but he wasn’t frightened at all. He enjoyed relinquishing the control to Steve, and the security that offered. When they started their relationship, his favourite part about them was the stability that they had, and he knew that Steve would never change something unless Bucky was comfortable with it. Now things beyond either of their control were changing, and they were growing… but they were growing together and Bucky had never felt closer to Steve.

He decided that an appropriate way to communicate all this to Steve was to buy him a bouquet of sunshiney flowers.

He checked his watch again, and it was time, and he could barely contain himself as a flight attendant rolled back the folded wall connecting the airport to the bridge. A few people walked past, and then Bucky caught sight of him, and unbidden tears escape from his eyes as he ran forward and threw his arms around his best friend, crumpling the flowers a little.

He felt himself being lifted a little off the ground as Steve’s strong arms wrapped around him, and then Steve spun him around. People waiting to board their plane or for their loved ones applauded, and Steve chuckled as he set Bucky down. Bucky still didn’t let go, face buried in the crook of Steve’s neck, breathing in his scent and enjoying the feeling of Steve’s soft belly pressing into his torso…

Wait.

Bucky pulled back, and his eyes slipped down from Steve’s face to his belly, and then they snapped back up as soon as he realised he shouldn’t stare. He grinned and gave Steve a kiss, feeling the blond’s stubble itch his chin. “Growing your beard out?”

Steve smiled. “Yep. Time for a change.”

Bucky nearly laughed out loud at how similar that was to his earlier sentiments. “I got you some flowers.”

“Buck.” Steve’s smile softened and his eyes grew damp. “Thank you.”

Bucky giggled, unable to contain himself. He thought Steve would laugh, be a little confused and toss an ironic ‘thanks’ maybe, but he didn’t expect him to be so touched. “So, what do you want to do? Are you hungry for some dinner, or do you wanna go home? That new pizza place opened up while you were gone.”

Steve seemed tired, but looked down at his watch. “Sure, I could eat.”

I bet you can, Bucky thought, sneaking a quick look while Steve was busy looking at his phone. It’s hard to tell how much weight he’d put on since St. Patrick’s Day, especially with the dark, layered clothes he had on. Bucky couldn’t wait to find out later, during reunion sex.

They walked to the car and Bucky drove to the pizza place, but when they went in, Bucky was almost feeling like it was a mistake. He would rather just go home and make Steve something, then peel all those layers of clothing off of him like he was unwrapping a present. He wanted to feel Steve’s new waist, play with the pudge underneath his belly button (the only reference he had to go on was The Snap™, and he was certain it had only grown since then), sit on his big lap and feed him something. All of which would not be considered anywhere near appropriate in a public restaurant.

They were seated in a corner booth with a wide window, and Bucky sat next to Steve instead of across from him, just wanting to be close. Steve and Bucky agreed on a Sicilian pie, and when the waiter came over, Steve ordered a large. They chatted about Stark’s new building while they were waiting, Steve modestly sharing how happy he was to try a few new ideas he’d had.

When the food arrived, Steve ate his slice like it was a religious experience. Bucky had never seen such a complete 180 turnaround, from someone who practically shied away from food to the critic he was sitting next to.

“Wow, this really is amazing. When you told me they were opening up another pizza place, to be honest, I was a little annoyed. I mean, there are plenty, but this is incredible. They definitely have their own thing going on here. I don’t particularly like Sicilian, which is why I ordered it. Thor—the guy I told you I ate with a few times—taught me that trick. Order something you don’t like, and if it’s good, then the restaurant impressed you. I love the balance of herbs on this. Usually the sauce on Sicilians is too overwhelming, but this is delightful. Are you getting undertones of sweetness? It doesn’t seem like a greasy pizza and sweetness would be a good combination, but it so is. Also, I love the level of grease on this. It’s not dripping down your arm, but it’s not too dry, either.”

Bucky was speechless. Was this the same man who used to dab his pizza with napkins to soak up the grease?

Steve finished his first slice quickly after his review, and grabbed a second. “What do you think, Buck?”

“Uh… it’s good, yeah. Really… light, kind of?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he enthusiastically nodded. “Yes!! I didn’t know how to describe that, but it is. Almost… fluffy, but the crust is compact. We absolutely have to come here again.”

Bucky had never actually spoken about food before like this. Sure, he’d discussed favourite restaurants and meals before when he was just getting to know someone… but usually food was a topic that was thrown into the same categories as “work” and “weather”, reserved only for the people he’d rather reorganise the filing cabinet than talk to. But this was different. They weren’t talking about food because they had no deeper things to talk about… it was as if Steve found the food so profoundly wonderful that he wanted to discuss it. As they continued their meal, Bucky found new aspects of the pizza he enjoyed, and instead of simply savouring the tastes, he would mention it, and Steve would enthusiastically reply. It didn’t feel forced, though, and although food wasn’t typically something Bucky would form a bond over, he finished his third slice feeling satisfied, and like deliberating what he was eating added a whole new facet to dining.

“Want dessert?” he asked Steve as they neatly finished the entire large pizza.

Steve grunted affirmatively in response, mouth full of the last slice.

The waiter returned and they ordered cannoli, and like the pizza, they again discussed all the different flavours, and this time Bucky took as much part as Steve did.

“Is this what you did with Thor?” Bucky asked, understanding how people who had little in common could bond over the wonder of food.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Isn’t it awesome? A month ago, I never thought of food this way before, but he totally opened my eyes. It’s such a huge part of my life, but I never really appreciated it like I do. I’d say eating is easily one of the highlights of my day. I don’t know… life just seems so much brighter when I learn to love the relationship I have with food, rather than despising my need for it.”

Bucky had almost been worried that Thor was his competition, but when he heard about the way Steve spoke about him, he understood there was nothing to be worried about, and even wished he could thank the man for helping Steve become such a foodie. But something about the last thing Steve had said made Bucky pause. He certainly would describe Steve’s relationship with food prior to St. Patrick’s Day as one where he despised his need for it, but it was shocking to hear Steve admit it, and made Bucky think there was more to this than what he was saying. “Yeah… food should be enjoyed,” Bucky prompted, hoping it would be enough to get Steve to continue.

“I never understood that until St. Patrick’s Day,” Steve whispered, like he was afraid of how easy it was to enjoy it. “Thank you.”

“Man, all I did was hand you the macaroons while I went to the bathroom to smoke a joint,” Bucky chuckled.

“No, not just for that. Thank you for being so understanding, for not being weird about… anything, or looking at me different, or making a big deal of… things.” And there it was. Bucky could see the shape in the air where the elephant was, a sort of large blob, and he could almost make out the texture of its skin.

“Hey, you don’t need to thank me for that. Only an asshole would get mad at you for loving yourself.”

“I didn’t hate myself before,” Steve almost sounded like he could cry. Bucky wanted to find out the source of what was going on here, something he could barely begin to understand, but he didn’t want to push Steve too hard.

“You didn’t give yourself any grace, either.”

“Do you think I was too cruel?”

“Well, think about it, Stevie. Just imagine treating anybody else—me, for example, like that. What if you made a rule, an absolute rule, that I had to get up at the crack of dawn every morning, run five miles, only eat foods from a very specific list, and not very large portions, and at a specific time each day, and every time I slipped up you got angry and punished me?”

Steve’s face grew angry, his protective instincts kicking in. “I could never do that,” he growled.

“Exactly. It’s okay to be forgiving with yourself. Would you hate me or make a big deal about it if I gained fifteen pounds?” The elephant trumpeted and flicked its tail, turning around and running off to DC’s concrete jungle.

“Of course not,” Steve breathed.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart. It’s not a problem,” Bucky responded, lying his hand on the soft swell of Steve’s belly, slightly firmer and larger because of the meal he’d just finished. What he really wanted to say was that he liked it, it was the opposite of a problem. He saw how happy food made him, and he wanted to continue watching Steve enjoy food as much as he did. Even more, he wanted Steve to gain more weight, a heavy gut to balance the broad shoulders he already possessed, biceps as large as his head and a belly as thick as his chest, growing out of all his new-bought jeans, growing out his beard like he said, sipping craft beer and wearing plaid flannels that couldn’t button even if he tried, sitting Bucky on his lap and calling him baby, his baby boy, Bucky wanted to be good for his big fat daddy—

Steve winced and shied away from Bucky’s hand on him. “It’s disgusting,” he spat out automatically, moving to stand up. Bucky was on the outside of the booth, and slid out to let Steve leave, even though he didn’t like it. Steve stormed up to the counter and paid for their meal, then got into the car and waited for Bucky to follow.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, but Steve didn’t hear him, preoccupied with driving home. The ride was silent.

Steve led as they got into the apartment. Bucky was holding back tears. Maybe he should offer to sleep on the floor—

“I want to show you something,” Steve said, not looking Bucky in the eyes. His voice was softer than Bucky thought it would be, and he was glad the blond wasn’t angry.

“Okay…” Bucky waited in the living room while Steve went to his bedroom and brought back a box. He rifled through it, pulled out a polaroid, and handed it to Bucky, looking at the floor.

There were a few kids in the picture, but the one in the centre caught Bucky’s eye. He was about fifteen, blowing out a birthday cake, eyes reflecting the lit candles. He looked positively ecstatic, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile, catching the happiness second hand.

“That’s me,” Steve said, after Bucky was quiet for a few minutes.

Oh.

Steve had been chubby as a kid. Bucky wouldn’t describe the kid in the picture as obese, but all the other kids in the picture were just thin enough to make Steve the fat kid of the group. Bucky could picture Steve getting bullied, even by the ones he thought were on his side. He could picture him having a growth spurt toward the end of high school, working out every morning, slaving away the years he should have spent getting drunk and having a pool party at his house when his parents were away for the weekend by punishing himself, sadly checking pasta, egg yolks, and even birthday cake off the list of things he could eat, meeting someone from high school and feeling a rush of validation when they didn’t recognise him, depriving himself of macaroons and beer and sleeping in because of the hatred for his own body that those cruel children had made sure he memorised. And now it was happening again, he was slipping, gaining weight faster than he could buy clothes for, finishing meals meant for multiple people by himself, abandoning running in favour of an episode of Jessica Jones.

“Steve,” said Bucky gently.

“Fucking don’t. I don’t want your pity.” Angry tears fell from Steve’s eyes.

“Steve. Your happiness is more important than what other people think of you.” He laid his hand gently on Steve’s belly for the second time that night, unable to keep himself from touching it. “This is a product of your happiness. And for the record, if you care what people think about it, I think it looks really nice.” Steve didn’t speak, and Bucky went on. “You are not obese. You are not inept. You are strong and young and healthy. You could easily bench press me. This doesn’t ruin your health. I understand if you want to lose some weight, if that helps your mental health—but don’t go back to before because you think you don’t have value unless your BMI is below ten.”

Steve let go of the fists he’d been making, and gently sagged into Steve’s arms. Bucky lowered himself to the floor, and he sat cross legged, Steve’s head in his lap, letting him cry. “It’s just so hard to let go of everything I was taught to believe.”

“I know, daddy, I know.” And goddammit, Bucky would take on every person who ever fat-shamed anyone right there. “It’ll take a while, but I’ll be here. Whatever you need.”

Steve let himself cry unashamed for a few moments more, letting go years of pent-up whatever. Bucky continued to mutter whatever sounded good that popped into his head, motivational validations he’d seen somewhere on Instagram. Then the blond took a deep breath, accepted the tissue Bucky offered him, and sat up. “You called me daddy.”

“Fuck,” Bucky blurted, eyes wide, missing his chance to play it off. “I’m sorry, Steve, I should have asked—“

Steve crashed his lips into Bucky’s, kissing him deeply and making him float through space, the stars giving off a warm light as he passed each constellation. “Don’t ever apologise for doing something that makes you happy,” he quoted.

Bucky smirked. “I don’t think my other weird kink can be compared to you starving yourself for years.”

“I didn’t starve myself. And sure it can—we’ve both been needlessly depriving ourselves of something that brings us joy.”

“I promise to call you daddy if you promise to eat without worrying about it.”

Steve laughed. “Somehow I feel like both of those lean in your favour.”

“Steve, if it makes you uncomfortable—“

“No, I was kidding. I like it when you call me daddy. And if you like this…” he brushed one hand over the tight fabric of his t-shirt. “So do I.”