Heaven Knows
The night of the announcement came in perfect Republican glory and splendor. Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised Bucky in the least bit if his father had made some sort of Faustian deal with the devil on this one; they were on a large stage outside on the lawn of the mall and the temperatures were hovering around a beautiful 75 degrees while the sun was just starting to set in a fantastic explosion of vivid red hues that lit up the sky and loudly proclaimed it’s metaphorical support for Senator George
Barnes.
It’s Time to Change America indeed… Bucky thought to himself, flinching slightly as he realized the negativity of the constant inner monologue running through his head. He smiled wider and shuffled slightly, trying to regain some feeling back into his left leg. Christ the man could go on for ages.
George Barnes was centered on the front of the stage, delivering a speech worthy of any president to the large gathered mass. The rest of the Barnes family stood slightly behind him, smiling for the cameras, nodding at acceptable pauses in George’s diatribe, dressed to the nines and looking like Republican Party perfection. It was becoming almost unbearable at this point—the only reason he was standing up here at all was to lend support to the massively outrageous lie that the Barnes family was ‘a flawless symbol of excellence’ the rest of the country could only hope to someday emulate. Where the hell did he go wrong to get to this point of utter degradation? He was the star student of his graduating class; he could have had a promising career anywhere politically speaking—he just needed to be willing to put in a few years of hard grunt work, possibly work at a coffee shop, scrape together the rent and wait for his big break. He could have been working to support a candidate he actually believed in. He could be an intern right now for a campaign completely different set of values.
It all boiled down to the fact that he was apparently incredibly selfish and still couldn’t get past the simple fact that he so desperately longed for his father’s pride in his accomplishments. Longed for the moment when he would take him in his arms, proclaim that all was forgiven, and love him—love James Buchanan Barnes. He rolled his eyes, then caught himself—hoping that there were no cameras focused in on him at the moment. He schooled his face back into that small grin of support and hopefulness. It was pathetic.
George had moved on from the simple economic policy talk and was now well in to the ‘family values’ section of his speech.
“Religious liberty is not some fringe view. It is the basis of this country! The Democrats are pushing mandatory gay marriage in all 50 states, and a judicial victory for gay-marriage advocates could lead to government persecution of Christian churches and schools!”
He continued on and Bucky tuned him out once again, focusing all of his internal energy on not letting that smile falter. He scanned the cheering crowd for something to keep himself occupied with, noting with pleasure the small section of protesters that had been roped off from the general masses. The interns and office workers who were not running around back stage were all standing towards the front of the crowd. He saw Steve then, caught his eye and saw him mouthing something towards him. His smile grew, he couldn’t help himself, the warmth in his chest was almost overwhelming, then he looked to his left and saw Rebecca mouthing back.
Right.
Steve was looking at Becca.
Obviously.
He could feel the slow spread of heat to his cheeks and reached up to rub at his temple self-consciously. Idiot.
The crowds cheers were growing louder and more insistent and Bucky realized that George was finally drawing to a close—of course he was drawing to a close—the sun was just now setting behind the hill and the final rays of red reflective light were cast upon his podium making him look as though he had caught on fire; his ideas were fire, they were spreading…
Deal with the Devil.
‘Let’s Make America Great Again!’ George announced and as the crowd went wild, Bucky could only sigh out in massive palpable relief. He had made it through the damn thing, he didn’t have to smile anymore, and he didn’t have to stand awkwardly on stage with cameras flashing in his face lending support to some bigot tyrant character.
Someone grabbed his arm as he was shuffled off stage and he looked down to see Rebecca.
“Oh my God that man loves to hear himself talk,” she muttered. She was clinging to him now, using him as a balance to twist off her four inch heels. “Thank GOD!” She turned and smiled at Bucky, now barefoot, and he grinned.
“Better not let Dad see you like that Bex. He might think you picked up your older brothers’ ‘hippy granola’ ways running around with no shoes…”
“As if.” She swatted at him, then glanced around. “Hey—did you see where Steve ended up?”
“I just came off the stage same as you. I don’t have a clue where anyone is.”
“Yeah yeah, ok sorry! Just thought I’d ask. He should be lurking somewhere…” she pulled the pins out of her hair and let the curls cascade loosely down the back of her neck.
“So…” he muttered, “after party somewhere?”
“No way in hell I am hanging with Dad’s cronies any longer than completely necessary she replied. “I’m going out with some friends from Episcopal actually. You and Steve want to come? He wasn’t super stoked about it when I mentioned it yesterday, but I am willing to bet he will go if you do. Come on…it’ll be fun!”
Bucky thought for a moment. He had planned to go back to his apartment alone, probably finish off the bottle of whiskey he had laying around and pass out in some state of mixed depression, anger and sexual frustration. Which sounded…great. “What the hell. I’m in.”
She perked up considerably. “Fabulous! Then let’s find Steve shall we? I want to be out of here in five—I need a drink stat.”
The bar itself was an amazingly cool place. Bucky certainly had his doubts as Rebecca led them down a dank musty alley, but the aptly named ‘Alice’ proved to be a fantastical hole in the wall, complete with a flashing neon white rabbit. Inside, the walls were covered in porthole mirrors and dangling lanterns, and he watched the bartenders serving up some fancy cocktails in tiny yellow teapots. Bucky wasn’t typically the ‘theme’ type, but even he had to admit that the place was beyond amazing. Within two minutes of their arrival, Rebecca had flitted off somewhere—presumably with the Episcopal crew she previously mentioned—and Bucky was left awkwardly standing in the doorway with Steve
“Uh, did you want to go hang with her?” Bucky asked.
“Huh?” Steve looked at him for a second, then gave a small jerk of his head. “Oh! No—she is, well…they are all…no.” He smiled. “She is here to party—I wouldn’t want to get in the way. I’m going to let her have some time with them for a bit. Wanna grab a drink?”
“Oh my God, yes.”
They ended up at the bar; a wonky lopsided thing splashed in all different colors of paint. The bartender eyed the pair for a moment, then threw his towel over his shoulder in prototypical ass-hat bartender fashion and spoke.
“So. What’ll it be for you guys?”
“Hey, man.” Bucky looked over at the large liquor selection for a moment. “Umm, in the spirit of wonderland and all, I might as well branch out. Any great recommendations?”
The bartender sighed. “I take it you haven’t been here before.” He pushed over two rustic looking books. “Just call me over once you are ready. Name’s Jack.” Then he hurried back down the way to another wild looking group.
Bucky looked at Steve and mimed getting shot in the head. “Uptight much?”
“Seriously,” Steve nodded. “Pass that over, let’s take a look.”
The unassuming looking books were filled with the most delightfully named colorful concoctions Bucky had ever seen. He started reading aloud before he even realized noise was coming from his lips,
“The Mad Hatter’s Secret Tea:Hendrick’s Gin mixed with Montenegro Amaro and Cardamom bitters. The drink will be served from a walking cane and served into a Hendrick’s teacup with a block of ice.
The cocktail strikes the perfect balance of gin, bitterness from the Amaro and a strong and delicious hit of cardamom. Beware the Mad Hatter as this drink may lead you to order another.
Steve grinned and read aloud another:
“Waking Up from the Dream: Woodford Reserve bourbon is stirred down with Cointreau Noir, Maple Syrup and orange bitters over ice. The liquid is then injected with a syringe into a ball of ice. A spoon is provided for you to crack the ice which releases the flavor of the drink.”
Bucky shot a glance over a Steve and the corners of his mouth tugged up just slightly. “So, then. What time did you need to be up tomorrow?”
Steve grinned boyishly back at him. “You’re on!”
**********
Four cocktails later and Bucky and Steve were curled up on a bench together, laughing hysterically. It was absolutely the last one that did it—Bucky would hold to that for all eternity. Who the hell makes a cocktail out of absinthe, and then offers it up to two, very obviously, already inebriated men? The room was swaying pleasantly around him, the mirrors on the walls flexing inwards and outwards, making it possible to believe just for a moment that they led to some secret world, that if they both stepped forward and reached out their hands they would be pulled in to Wonderland and leave D.C. forever behind. Bucky could see his reflection in one, a distorted view. Disheveled hair and bloodshot brown eyes and flushed cheeks and if he closed his eyes for a split second he could almost imagine blonde hair and blue eyes perched on his shoulder, but, no it wasn’t in his mind’s eye after all, Steve really had perched his head on his shoulder and was grinning mischievously into the faulty mirror and he could smell the clean almond scent of his hair and if he concentrated again, even the slightest bit, he could smell turpentine,
he was going mad and it was hilarious.
Steve was abruptly not balanced on his shoulder anymore, he had suddenly moved and Bucky turned slowly enjoying the brief spin of the world and saw Rebecca,
“Oh my God Steve, how much have you guys had to drink, you are both completely wasted!” And she giggled hysterically and fell forward on to their table and now all Bucky could smell was smoke and he beamed up at her because she was so obviously wasted too,
“Bex this place is fantastic and you smell like an ashtray or straight up tar, or maybe an opium den what the hell have you been doing,”
She giggled back at him, “Opium. Obvs, big brother,”
and he gaped up at her because, seriously, was smoking opium even still a thing, and she just looked wisely down at him with aged maturity and quoted blithely,
“How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail. And pour the waters of the Nile, on every golden scale. How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws. And welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws.”
She winked then turned back to Steve who was staring directly at Bucky, he was cutting directly through his chest cavity, directly through to his heart with his gently smiling jaw,
Bucky shook his head, he was going mad! And Steve was speaking now,
“…cool with you?”
“Huh?” Bucky mumbled.
“Dancing, fool,” Rebecca cut in with a drug induced drawl, “I’m stealing my boyfriend to go dancing.”
“Oh. Right. Obvs.” He smirked at his own cleverness in quoting Rebecca and watched her pull Steve into the ever growing crowd of drunken natives and he stood up and casually made his way back to the bar.
“Hey. Jack, man!”
Jack came heading back over. “You liked the absinthe tea huh?”
Bucky smiled and shot his best, most fuckable grin back because he was in a bar and he was drunk and what the hell. He responded, “It was maddeningly fabulous. I’ll have another."
“And I’m paying.”
Bucky looked over at the newcomer who had sidled in to the stool next to him and gave him the appraising once over. He looked to be in his early thirties, was wearing a denim jacket over a tight black shirt, had the faintest amount of stubble covering his chiseled jaw line and had, god dammit, blue eyes. Bucky quirked an eyebrow at the guy.
“And I will certainly take you up on that.” He stuck out his hand. “James.”
“Mark.” The newcomer grinned then looked back up at Jack and added, “and I’ll have whatever he is having as well.”
Steven Grant Rogers was completely plastered. It wasn’t like he didn’t go out, or didn’t drink, or didn’t know how to just relax every once in a while, but for the most part he kept himself to one or two beers max, not the four—wait, now five—insanely sugary, liquor filled cocktails that he had gulped down in the last two hours. It was hitting him so hard and Christ Almighty if he wasn’t going to have the killer hangover of the century when he woke up tomorrow morning but, for right now, it was absolutely worth every second because Bucky was laughing and when Bucky laughed the entire room seemed to slow down and fadeout into a background track and the only thing left in the entire universe was that tinkling mirth that sparked something deep within him,
he had no choice but to move closer and lay his head directly on Bucky’s shoulder; to stare in to that porthole mirror and watch—to be swallowed up in gold was pure happiness after all,
someone nudged into his shoulder and he shot up, surprised and almost fell over the table.
“Oh my God Steve, how much have you guys had to drink, you are both completely wasted!”
Rebecca was gripping the heavy table as if holding on for dear life, as though the floor was trying to open up from under her feet and swallow her up. Then she abruptly fell over and Bucky started talking to her. Steve was trying to follow the conversation, he really was, but everything was just a loud hum in his ears and all he could look at was Bucky’s mouth moving, he was watching his jaw clenching and his eyes expressively focused in on Rebecca and the way even his tongue was roaming over his teeth,
crap. Bucky was staring at him. How long had Bucky been staring at him?
Rebecca was pulling at his arm and he looked down at her as she spoke,
“Come on babe. Come dance with me—the night is young and by the grace of magic so are we!”
Her melodramatics were so endearing and she was right, the night was young, and so were they and Rebecca was where he was supposed to be. If the beginning was Steve and Buck, then the ending was Rebecca, it had to be Rebecca.
They ended up in the middle of the dance floor, smashed in amongst dozens of other bodies and Rebecca was pushing right up against his chest, grinding in to him. There were others around them, laughing and moving and mascara was running down their glistening faces. He recognized a few from the high school—Rebecca’s friends then. One of them got right up against him as well,
“Jesus, Steve you look fantastic,”
And the other girls were all pushing in then, they formed some sort of mosh pit in the center of the floor and all he could think about was Bucky but he kept dancing and drinking and dancing.
He was sucked down the rabbit hole of inebriation and heavy bass—the two intertwining inside of him, eating their way through his organs, unaware of any time passing, unaware of where he was or who he was—each breath in left him completely intoxicated from different entwining smoky scents, his eyes were closed,
“Steve!”
Rebecca was yelling in his face, still laughing, her beautiful smile looked so much like Bucky’s,
“Yeah? what?”
“I’m heading back uptown with the girls! Can you get home alright? You want to find Bucky? Can you find Bucky?” Her head was cocked to the side and her eyes were twinkling and her skin was sweat soaked, they must have been dancing for ages and he looked around suddenly, noticing that the bar really was starting to empty.
“I’ll find him, I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”
She lurched forward drunkenly and planted a wet kiss on his cheek then turned and stumbled off, arms tightly around her group of friends, all of them laughing uncontrollably and swaying from side to side off in to the distance. He staggered from the dance floor and tried to focus his eyes, tried to find Bucky, that was what she told him to do, ‘find Bucky!’ and some guy pushed a shot in to his hand and suddenly everyone was yelling and drinking and he swallowed the tequila with a grimace and he found him, there he was—at the bar! But he was talking with another man, and the guys’ hand was splayed carelessly on Bucky’s thigh and his thumb was rubbing small concentric circles and now Steve was angry. There was no reason to be angry, he didn’t know why he was angry, he could just feel the deep waves of possession coursing through his blood, Bucky was his, he was supposed to find him, he was supposed to get him safely home, Bucky was his friend, Bucky was his.
He found himself suddenly standing beside the two men and tried not to lose his balance, he was so wasted, and he cleared his throat loudly. Bucky jumped a little and turned his head and that glorious smile lit up his entire face and Steve could drown in that smile, he really could, and Bucky spoke,
“Hey! Stevie!”
Steve felt his lips turning up into a perfect matching smile—he hadn’t been Stevie since the train, he wanted to reach out and lean his head in to Bucky, feel his stubble rasping against his forehead, close his eyes and get lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat underneath his ear,
but there was still another man there and he spoke out, sounding irritated,
“Uh, James? Did you still want to get out of here?”
Steve knew he had to do something, he had to say something or the moment would be lost forever, the rabbit hole would close and he would never have the chance to follow the white hare again so he spoke,
“Buck, I have something, there is something at my apartment I wanted to…I wanted to show you it, can you, do you want to…”
His voice sounded too loud in his ears, like he was yelling, like he was drunk, but he was supposed to find Bucky, she told him to find Bucky and he did and he needed him to come, he looked up and couldn’t miss the softening of Bucky’s face, the confusion that flitted across his eyes, the hope that danced across his features.
“I…”
he looked back at the guy sitting with him. “I’m really sorry Mark, I need to go now,” he looked down balefully, “It was really nice to meet you man,”
and he hopped off the bar stool and the guy, (Mark?) looked supremely annoyed now and Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders and guided him jerkily towards the entrance and he could smell smoke but now it was the tar filled scent of cigarettes and it moved something deep inside him because it smelled like he was thirteen again, it smelled like old wood and charcoal and summer and
Bucky.
They were leaning against each other now, finally out in the open air again, and Steve wished for a moment that he wasn’t this drunk, that he had not chosen to finish the night out with a shot of tequila, but he knew that he wouldn’t be pressing against his best friend this tightly if he hadn’t so maybe it was for the best,
he found Bucky, he told her he would find Bucky,
She asked him to find Bucky.