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Sinner's Prayer

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They say New York City never sleeps. But they don't tell you what hangs out in the shadows when it should be. Bucky Barnes, for example, spent his nights roaming the streets, causing various degrees of property damage and instilling fear in those around him. Bucky was a demon. A creature of the night, enemy of heaven, whatever the fuck God fearing people came up with. Bucky was partial to “harbinger of the apocalypse,” though. That was his favorite.

On this particular night, he'd found himself roaming the side streets of Brooklyn with his pack of demons. There were six of them, seeing as demons tended to thrive in groups. At the turn of a corner, the sinful neon sparkle of a club came into view, and Bucky shared a feral grin with the demon next to him. The air had shifted into something just a little more heavy, the press of all that demonic energy. It was a club for beings who dwelt in this midnight haze. Full of sex and violence, it was all Bucky needed for a good time. As he stepped through the threshold of the nondescript building, he was hit with the unmistakable scent of blood and sweat. The undulating pool of bodies flowed around him and he slunk through the crowd, his tight leather pants and loose white shirt an immediate attention getter. His long, thick brown tresses framed his piercing blue eyes, making him intense and unforgettable. Just the way he liked it.

Bucky could feel the heat of eyes watching his every step, but he didn’t bother to glance over. He knew what he could do. As Bucky finally stepped up to the bar, waving the bartender over with a finger, a pale man with dark, greasy hair sauntered over.

“Hey, I’ve seen you around here before. You’re quite the sight, aren’t you?” An over- practiced drawl purred next to Bucky.

Bucky turned briskly, leaning back against the metal counter. The man looked him up and down quickly, immediately causing Bucky to have to suppress a yawn.

“You could say that,” A smirk, “I don’t know what can be said for you, though, ”Bucky called back expertly.

The man sputtered and backed off, leaving Bucky alone with his newly delivered drink. His eyes roved the shadow blanketed room, looking for any kind of fun trouble, perhaps someone who was actually worth his time. As Bucky moved his sights along the room, a whiff of something putrid, downright vile struck his nose. Bucky locked eyes with one of his demons, the same glint of trouble rousing in their eyes.


Bucky hit the floor in a glide, sipping his drink all the while. As he strode over, he watched the vampires lurk around the edges of the crowd, sniffing out a more sinister kind of trouble. Bucky’s pack of demons bled out of the wall of bodies around them, each one already eyeing up a fight. The room seemed to shift and swell as the vampires locked eyes with the pack across the floor. Bucky let a feral grin crawl across his face as the first vampires strode forward, tense and alert. Bucky gestured with a tilt of the head, and the game was on. The crowd of creatures shifted and became silent as the packs met each other on the floor. Bucky snarled at the first vampire while his demons chose opponents. The vampire leered at Bucky, showing the glint of his crystalline fangs. Bucky raised a hand and felt the familiar sting of power surge to his finger tips. The shadows crept into the sides of his vision, where Bucky could see every creature take a step backwards. The vampires seemed to realize their display of fear had been noted, and immediately jumped into action. The demons and their fanged foes swept through the room in a hurricane of glinting teeth and shadows. The club had erupted into chaos around them, some creatures running for their lives and others settling in for a show.

 Bucky tore through everything that came towards him, efficient and deadly. His demons fought in a similar style, but none were as good as Bucky had grown to be. Everything seemed to be a breeze, in Bucky’s terms, until a crash reverberated above their heads. The vampires had friends. A lot of friends, Bucky noted. As the demons were met with another pack of vampires, the rest of the club cleared out, leaving only those in a fight. Bucky shook his head, settling his thoughts, before plowing forward, taking out as many as he could. Damn, he thought, this is gonna be one hell of a storyAs Bucky finally noticed his surroundings again, he saw his demons struggling to keep up the fight. They all seemed to be hovering around each other, a swarm of fizzling sparks and clearing smoke. They looked to be planning something, an escape if Bucky was lucky. Losing wasn’t a good option seeing as Bucky had had his fair share of time in Hell. So he hoped for the sake of them all that someone had a plan. Looking back, Bucky probably should have realized what that plan was. In a flash, Bucky’s pack of demons sent up a last ditch flare of smoke and fire to push the vampires back. Bucky released a feral grin, pushing a vampire falling to ashes off of him swift and careless.

His grin fell when the smoke cleared. They were gone. His demons had gone and left him with the remaining vampires. They were sacrificing Bucky, and he wished he could say he was surprised. As the anger throbbed its way around his veins, the vampires drew closer, furious at the stunt. Bucky summoned more shadows and pushed forward, hoping this wasn’t it for him, but realistically wondering if it was. The last thing he felt was the rip of teeth in his arm. The last thing he saw was a burst of silver light encasing the room.


Steven Rogers was a good angel. A great one, if he was boasting inside his own head. Steven helped people, and made sure those in his charge got to heaven safely. At least, he used to. Before he was...released from his duties. He didn’t regret what he did, in fact he never doubted that it was right. Steven had protested the treatment of demons and other Hell creatures. Angels looked down on them, spited them. Sure some of them were terrible, vile things, but most were average people once. People who had made mistakes. Steve felt that demons should be helped just like anyone else. Just because someone didn’t believe in God didn’t mean they deserved to be in Hell.

Needless to say, not many agreed with him. Those that did remained silent, lest they be banished from Heaven too. See, Steven was still an angel, still had most of his powers, but that was all. He couldn’t take anyone to Heaven, let alone go back himself. He was banished, yes, but his closest friend Sam had pleaded with the angel Gabriel. Sam had promised that Steven was just going through a phase. He was, after all, still new to being a Godly Servant. So Gabriel had basically put him on celestial probation. It was just that, Steven wasn’t sure it was a phase. He loved his job, but staying quiet about the mistreatment of others wasn’t exactly his style.

So Steven waited. Waited for a chance to prove them all wrong, and as it so happened, Steven found that chance in Brooklyn. In a demon club. Shit . It wasn’t like Steven was actually going to go into the club. He was just walking past it. At least until he saw all the smoke, and the group of battered demons struggling out. Steven ducked into a darkened archway, avoiding the possibility of being seen by them. Not that Steven was ever one to shy away from standing up for himself, but it seemed like something more pressing was taking place inside those doors.

Steven crept closer, listening for danger. He didn’t have to get very close for that, though. As soon as he reached the doors, he was almost knocked backwards by the stench of fire and the hissing of vampires. When Steven peered through the haze, it became apparent that the vampires had a target in mind. A man, clad in dark leather, sprawled on the floor in between them.

“Jesus Christ,” Steven gasped, not even stopping to apologize for it.

He slid through the half open door and dropped onto a staircase in the corner. Taking a breath and willing the light to drum up at the surface of his skin, Steven wasted no time in facing the vampires. They hissed and whined at his presence, slinking back from the light. Steven pressed harder, silently begging the light to get brighter, silver streaks tearing at the vampires around him. As the light grew, the creatures fled, teeth glistening in the aura coming from Steven. The second they had all dispersed, Steven broke into a run, coming to a stop on his knees before the man. Steven was taken aback by the obvious beauty of the stranger. Long chestnut locks framed plump lips and eyelashes for days. A beautiful stranger who smelled just like...a demon. Steven’s brows creased as he lifted the man over his shoulder, careful as could be.

The man didn’t move or mutter a sound as Steven lugged him back home. It was dangerous and stupid and Steven couldn't bring himself to care. The situation he had found the stranger in should have told Steven that the man could have been violent and dangerous. But a jawline like that couldn't go to waste, now could it? So maybe Steven was selfish and not that great of an angel anymore if Gabriel had anything to say about it. But, Steven was left unsupervised. There was no blame in helping a stranger, right? Except that the person in question was a demon. But Steven was more worried about how he would unlock his door with a man on his shoulder at the moment.

After nearly dropping the man about six times, Steven made it inside. He dropped the unconscious stranger softly on the couch, immediately going on a search for water and a wet cloth. When Steven returned, a glass of cool water was placed on the coffee table, and a warm cloth was pressed to the man’s face. Steven knelt beside him, muttering little prayers and taking the dirt from the stranger’s skin with them. When he sat back, he wondered if the demon before him would try to kill Steven when he woke up. He hoped not. Not that any city demons could be powerful enough to hurt him. Still, the face in front of him made Steven feel something deep in his soul. The stranger’s face was one of a man who had seen much, and was most likely endlessly dangerous, but probably knew a lot about the world, too. Steven wondered just how wrong about the man he was.


Bucky had one hell of a headache. The first attempt at opening his eyes was highly unsuccessful. Bucky’s head throbbed and his eyes burned and as soon as his head tried to lift from the pillow he dropped back down with a pitiful whine. Pillow? Bucky had a hard enough time even comprehending that he was alive let alone on a pillow. Where the fuck was he? Despite the difficulty, Bucky managed to raise his head until the room stopped spinning. He was a living room? The walls were white and the carpet was blue and the couch was leather and- there was someone watching him. Bucky turned, trying to take in the man kneeling in front of him.

“Who the fuck-?”

The sentence was cut short as Bucky finally started to see in twenty-twenty again. This man was damned gorgeous . Tall, broad shoulders, silky blond hair. Lips just begging to be bitten and ocean eyes to match. Bucky knew he was a creature of Hell but he was fairly convinced he had died and gone to Heaven. The man peered at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Hey, there. How do you feel?” The man asked gently.

“Uh, like shit,” Bucky replied eloquently.

The man huffed a little laugh at that and Buck y’s whole heart lit up at the sound. What the fu ck? He barely fucking knew this guy. He could be a serial killer or a cannibal or an-

“Angel,” Bucky said around dinner plate eyes. He’d wondered what that smell had been. Sweet and soft, like a flower on the breeze.

The man chuckled nervously, snaking a hand around the back of his neck.

“Uh- well- yeah,” The Angel finally stuttered out.

Bucky’s whole fantasy of hot savior guy died in an abrupt puff. He cocked his head, trying to comprehend why the Hell an angel had helped him.

“Why- who- what the fuck?” Was all Bucky could manage.

The man nodded once, resolutely.

“I’m Steven. I am an angel, and I saw you in that club last night. You seemed like you were in pretty bad shape, so I got you out of there.” Steve recited matter-of-factly. Like he just did shit like that everyday.

Bucky sputtered, at a loss, “Why?”

Steven leveled him with a soft gaze. “It was the right thing to do,” He replied, calm and sure.

Bucky had to get out of there. This was all wrong. Angels didn’t just help demons. The world didn’t work that way. Demons were left to die and angels were left to continue with their righteous whatever the fuck missions. He flopped his head back onto the couch pillow, whining again. This guy was so hot, and Bucky was so sad and also really, really fucking confused and it all added up to one monstrosity of a headache. Steven handed him a glass of water, and Bucky gulped it down thankfully. The pounding dulled to a vague throbbing but Bucky was not finding it much easier to form cohesive thoughts. And be sad. Because Steven was hot. And a fucking angel . Fuck.

Bucky let himself have one overdramatic sigh before properly sitting up.

“Okay man, look, thanks for saving me and all but I really cannot be here,” Bucky began. “You’re an angel and I’m a demon. Ya know, mortal enemies and all that jazz.”

Steve seemed to deflate at Bucky’s words. Bucky perked up at that. Maybe this was a joke and Steve wasn’t an angel and Bucky could wrap a hand around that graceful neck and-

“I’m not going to hurt you…?”

“Bucky,” He replied. Fuck.

Steven smiled again. “Bucky. I’m not exactly a full blown angel anymore anyways, so you’re pretty much in the clear here.” Steve finished.

Bucky pressed his lip together, contemplating his options. He wanted to trust Steven. But, like what kind of fucking beautiful man just appears, saves your life, and then is also super nice? One that doesn’t exist. That’s right. So Bucky chose to do what Bucky could not do last night in some strange display of confusion with a pinch of sideways redemption. Bucky was going to run away.

Finding his legs, he stood up, Steven mirroring his movements.

“Listen, Steve I really gotta go, but ya know, thanks again,” Bucky nodded once,abruptly turning to look for a door.

Steven grimaced, following Bucky towards the front door.

“Anytime, Bucky. It was nice to meet you,” Steve went along with it, chuckling at himself.

Bucky turned around one last time, after that adorable sound had been noted. He shot a smile Steven’s way, as he slipped through the door.

“You too, angel,” Bucky smirked, while he saunteddown the hall.

Hey, a tiny bit of flirting couldn’t hurt. The guy had saved his life after all.

Steven watched until Bucky turned the corner before slowly shutting his door and leaning his head against it with a thud. What had he gotten himself into? Something, seeing as Steven couldn’t ever let things go. Especially things that looked like that. If Bucky didn’t trust him because he was an angel, well, Steven would have to show Bucky he didn’t have anything to worry about.


By the time Bucky got back to his own apartment, his mind was swimming. He was going to kill those little fuckers that had left him there to fucking die without a second thought. And Steven. Fucking Steven. Life was cruel and unfair, dangling something so perfect in front of Bucky only to tell him that they were enemies. Like seriously dude, what the fuck? Bucky wasn’t that terrible to deserve such a punishment. Probably. So he moped, and growled, and contemplated throwing every rational thought to the wind and finding Steven. Everything down to the damned smell on that man was utterly intoxicating and all Bucky could think about since leaving was having it near him again.

But he couldn’t. It’d throw off the natural balance. He was eternally grateful for the continuation of his life, but he couldn't. Instead, Bucky briefly wondered if chocolate ice cream could fix all his weird problems. He figured it’d be best to start there. Then he hatched a plan to find his old demon pack, and exact a little old school revenge. He was a Hellbeast, after all.


Steven figured Bucky would be looking for his demons, and his demons wouldn’t be in Brooklyn any time soon, so there Steven was, outside a club in Queens. The place was crawling with all kinds of beings, Heaven, Hell, and in between. Despite Angel’s penchant for good behavior, quite a few of them liked to lurk where they shouldn’t be. Steven had never been the type, but he guessed all kinds of things were changing. So he adjusted his brown leather jacket, and slipped into the fray. The building was dark, and smelled of the mixed auras of a hundred different types of beings. Steven moved slow through the pulsing crowd, ignoring the leering grins and whispered promises pointed towards him.

It took Steven two full circles of the room to find Bucky, lounging on a velvet seat, half covered by sheets of gossamer. He was hard to see, but Steven guessed that was on purpose. Steven took one last look at Bucky’s profile and mustered the courage to slide back the curtains. Bucky met his gaze with a startled jump.

“Hey,” Steve tried.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, before he grabbed Steve’s shirt and pulled him down.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed quietly.

Steven scratched the back of his head nervously. He’d thought about this day for the past week, yet  had no answer for this. So he went with the truth.

“There’s something about you. I can’t explain it, but I had to see you again,” Steve lets out.

Bucky’s eyes go dinner plate once again as he took in Steven’s admission.

“You’re outta your mind, you know that right?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded, “Yeah I’ve definitely figured that one out by now.”

“Good,” And then Bucky’s lips were on Steven’s.


This angel had come all the way to a club from sparkly Heaven to see him? With those eyes and those lips and that fucking scent. How could Bucky say no? So he figured, why not get it out of his system?

Kissing Steven was like kissing everything good in the world all at once. Soft and warm and safe. Bucky wanted to thoroughly debauch him. So when Steven moaned, low and warm in the back of his throat, Bucky matched it with a growl, moving to wrap a fist into Steven’s leather jacket, warmed from his skin and smelling just as sweet. Steven matched Bucky’s enthusiasm wholeheartedly, immediately returning the favor as soon as Bucky’s tongue snaked between his lips. Bucky pushed until Steven leaned back enough for Bucky to throw a leg across his lap and straddle him. From his new spot, which Bucky quite liked, he could tilt Steven’s head back and lick even deeper into that velvet mouth.

Steven’s arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist like a vice, kept him secure on Steven’s lap. Bucky moaned at the feeling, and pulled back to nip at Steven’s lips before turning his head to kiss down Steven’s jaw and across his pale throat. Bucky breathed in deep, and savored  that scent, like honey and roses in the spring. Bucky bit his way back up the length of Steven’s throat, leaving little red marks in his wake. They disappeared in seconds, only egging Bucky on to make more. The tiny noises that purred from Steven’s mouth made it even more enticing. As soon as Bucky pulled off with a little pop, Steven’s hands were in Bucky’s hair, tugging gently to the side. Bucky moved his head, and let the growls seep out with his shadows.

The next time Bucky managed to glance up, smile as wide as the skyline, their seat writhed with shadows and light, dancing together around them. Bucky briefly wondered if anyone on the outside could see it. Then realized he didn’t care. As Steven’s hot lips trailed along his jaw, biting and licking, Bucky was positive he has never felt so good at someone else’s hand before. Frankly with the way Steven held him, Bucky wasn’t sure he ever wanted to feel anyone’s hands but Steven’s ever again. The thought made him worried, seeing as this was supposed to be the last time they ever saw each other. But it felt so good.

So Bucky threw caution to the wind, as was his specialty, and reached for Steven’s belt. Bucky undid the metal and leather with one hand as the other was now occupied around the back of Steven’s neck. The second the belt was undone, Steven moaned, pushing his hips up for more contact. Bucky happily obliged, and sent a hand right into Steven’s underwear. Fuck waiting any longer when they both wanted it so badly. Bucky’s first reaction upon contact was to giggle. Giggle like a fucking girl in church because Steven was hot, nice, extremely good with his hands and mouth, and fucking huge. Bucky really couldn’t believe his luck. At the sound of Bucky’s laughter, Steven’s head shot up, alarmed.

“What?” He asked, both amused and utterly bewildered.

Bucky gave him a warm smile, punctuated by stray giggles.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re absolutely fucking perfect?” Bucky asked, as he started to move his fingers in slow, soft circles where they were still down Steven’s pants.

Steve gasped quietly, bit his lip as he eyed Bucky.

“That would be the first time. Though I can say the same about you,” Steve replied.

Bucky’s stare turned heated while his smile shifted into a smirk at those words. He sat forward and brought their faces closer together.

“Well I’m glad to hear you like me, angel face. Though I’m finding it hard to believe no one has ever told you that before,” Bucky whispered into the space in front of Steve’s ear.

Bucky moved his fingers to wrap around Steven’s length, and began to slide his fingers up and down, painfully slow. Steven let out a breathy whine at the movement.

“Trust me, Buck. You’re the first. And I never lie,” Steve winked.

So they had nicknames now? Bucky’s smirk only got wider as his hand got faster. His grip on Steve tightened before his reply snuck through his lips.

“Mm we’ll see, Stevie.”

Steven huffed a gasp at that, as one hand gripped Bucky’s shirt, the other looked as if it was trying to rip a hole in the velvet of the seat. The hand in Bucky’s shirt moved down to his waist as Bucky picked up speed, swiped a thumb over Steven’s slick head. Steven’s hand continued its journey, and finally slipped below Bucky’s own pantline to grab a handful of firm ass. Steven moaned at the feeling of bare skin and leather. What could Bucky say? His pants were already tight. He wasn’t about to add underwear to that equation. His hips lunged forward, looking for friction against Steven’s jean clad thigh. The restrictive nature of Bucky’s pants was making the release he had started to crave near impossible. With a huff, Bucky tugged at the cord lacing his pants together, freeing his dripping cock from its confines. Steven’s pupils constricted even more at the sight. Licking his lips, Steven took Bucky’s own length in his long fingers, pulling Bucky towards him with the hand still on Bucky’s ass. Bucky ground his hips into the touch, tugging moans out of Steven all the while. As their hot gasps seeped into the air, upping the temperature every second, Steven let out a high moan, and stroked Bucky faster.

“F-fuck Bucky I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead, Stevie.”

Bucky watched as Steve spilled across his fingers, searing hot and wet. Bucky moaned, looking up to lick  his fingers clean sinfully slow as Steven watched, eyes glued to the sight. Steven grunted in the back of his throat, something low and primal, tightening his firm grip on Bucky’s cock. Bucky shot out a trembling breath, and hit his own climax a few seconds later as Steven twitched in his hand and rubbed circles into Bucky’s slit. Bucky lost all sense of reality in those moments, deciding to instead let Steven’s light eat him alive. When he came down, breathing hard, Bucky dropped his head onto Steven’s shoulder. Bucky only lifted his head when he felt Steven shake with silent laughter. Bucky threw an inquisitive glance Steven’s way, smiling dopily.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbled, sated and sleepy.

“Hi there,” Steven said back, voice slightly hoarse.

“That was…” Bucky couldn’t even fathom how good it was. Messy and wet and good.

“Perfect?” Steven guessed with a smirk.

Bucky snorted, and nodded at Steven’s remark.

“You could say that.”

As the sounds of the club around them came back into focus, Steven ran his clean hand over Bucky’s locks, while Bucky waited for their breathing to even out. Bucky nuzzled his face into the silky skin of Steve’s neck, eating up the feeling that surrounded him. Steven hummed, watched as Bucky pulled back to look at him. As Bucky appraised the man whose lap he was sprawled on, he considered his options. At the end of the day, Bucky was still a demon, and Steve an angel. They could get in serious trouble for what they’d already managed to do. Bucky could be sent back to Hell for who knows how long, and Steven could be punished too, though Bucky didn’t know what kind of shit angels got stuck with for misbehavior. Despite all of these logical thought trains chugging through Bucky’s demonic little noggin, he had no answer for them. So the train crashed and Bucky figured that was about when he should ask Mr. Perfect Righteous Sexy for help.

“We’re in trouble, Steve.” Bucky mumbled as he searched the angel’s eyes for an answer.

Steven smiled softly. “You may be right about that, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s heart sang at the name, but the feeling was quickly drowned out by his worry.

“What do we do?” Bucky asked. “Don’t want you to get cast out of Heaven over a handjob.”

Steven chuckled, lacing his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“I’ve already been cast out, Buck. You’re the one I’m more worried about,” Steven replied evenly.

Bucky raised his brows that that. “What do you mean you’ve already been cast out?” He asked in a rush.

“I still have my abilities, obviously, but I’m on a...break from Heaven right now.” Steven answered while his voice faded out at the end.

“A break?” Bucky asked, incredulous. “What the Hell did you do?”

Steven chuckled, nervous. “I stood up for Hell creatures. Said they should be treated better. Needless to say, not many agreed.”

Bucky shook his head once, tried to figure out if his ears were deceiving him. There was no way Steven was that- that good.

“Are you fucking serious?” Bucky blurted out, more confrontational than he meant to be.

Steven tensed, raising a brow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Bucky shook his head again, trying a different approach.

“Angels don’t- don’t do that, Steve. They hate things like me. You should hate things like me.”

Steven’s look of confusion melted into one of understanding. Taking Bucky’s cheeks in his hands he kissed Bucky, quick and soft.

“Why? Because we’re different? Bucky why on earth would I hate someone like you? Have you seen you?” Steve asked through a chuckle.

Bucky rolled his eyes,  while he smiled nonetheless.

“You’re out of your damned mind, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve said softly. “But the thing is, I don’t give fuck anymore. I’m not gonna keep quiet about what’s right, Buck. So if I lose my abilities, I lose them. They aren’t worth having if I have to hate others just because they aren't the same as me.”

Bucky creased his brow as he thought about all the years he’d been alive. All the things he’d done and seen. He’d never met someone quite like Steven. And he sure as Hell had never almost-fucked an angel before. This was new, and fun. Bucky hadn't felt like he was truly alive again in a long time, but losing himself in Steven’s hands had sure made him feel like he was. Maybe that was worth taking a visit to Hell for.

“You’re good Steve. Really, really good,” Bucky answered, smiling through his words.

Steve blushed at the praise, before he kissed Bucky again.

“I try. But so are you, Bucky.”

“I’m not. Believe me, I’m not,” Bucky averted his gaze, staring a hole into Steven’s chest.

“I can’t believe that, Buck. So maybe I’ll have to stick around to prove you wrong,” Steve said, and cracked a smirk at Bucky’s appalled expression.

Bucky choked out a laugh. “You’re really going to chance giving up your angel status to keep fucking a demon you met a week ago?”

Steven’s smile grew. “One, yes. And two, I haven’t actually fucked you yet, have I?’ Steven answered, low and promising.

Bucky shivered at the inquiry, bit at Steven’s lip before answering.

“I suppose not. I guess that means I’ll have to take my chances with the big guy downstairs, huh?”

Steve nodded, and took his bottom lip between his teeth. Bucky was about a hundred and twelve percent sure Natasha was going to kill him. For once, Bucky had no qualms with it. This was stupid and crazy and reckless and Bucky couldn't find the will to even want to care. So he gave up on it at crawled off of Steve’s lap, laced up up his pants.

“All right then, dollface. I guess that means we’ll be seeing each other soon,” Bucky smiled, soft and sweet, before a kiss was planted on Steve’s cheek on the way by.

He didn’t want to leave Steven, but he still had a vendetta to exact and an angry Romanov to face and the looming shadow of getting caught in the process. As Bucky went past, Steven grabbed his hand, and linked their fingers.

“How will I find you again?” Steve asked, as confusion crossed his face.

Bucky grinned, wild and primal, then brought Steven’s knuckles to his mouth for a gentle peck.

“Oh you’ll find out soon enough, lover.”

With that Bucky swept into the crowd, immediately lost to Steven’s sight. Steven rested his head on the velvet, slightly giddy about the direction his life was travelling. He looked up, silently prayed for Sam’s forgiveness, not that he was going to get it.Steven chuckled, and ran a hand through his honey locks. He shook his head in sated defeat.

“God damn it Buck.”

Chapter Text

When Steven woke up the next morning, it was because of the sunlight that broke through his eyelids. He stretched, feeling sated and warm. As the previous night crept back into his head, Steven couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, and a blush followed soon after. The feel of Bucky’s hands all over him, and the thick smell of their auras as they mixed was still tight in Steven’s bones. He still wasn’t exactly sure how his life had become so...unusual, but he had a feeling last night was just the beginning. Steven also took the time to be surprised at himself. He’d never done anything like this, let alone taken an interest in something like it. Steven knew he was attractive, knew he could have his pick of people, or creatures. But he didn’t. He was fairly certain it was because if he was going to fuck, or make love, or any of it, he wanted to feels something. And shit did Bucky make Steven feel.

Steven’s life had been a fairly horrible trainwreck it’s first few trips around the sun. His father, well he wasn’t exactly sure what became of his father after his abrupt departure from a six year old Steven’s life. His mother, God rest her soul, took care of him for the rest of his life. He’d check on her occasionally. She’d gotten a cat- a little tabby thing that liked to curl up in her arms. She had aged well too, her soft features unmarred by time. Steven missed her everyday.

Steven had died at the age of twenty-two on a cool evening in September of 1998. The sickness had finally taken over his frail body and he’d let go, not for lack of trying to stay. He’d never wanted to leave his mother behind all by herself. Steven still felt a pang in his chest when he thought of it. If he’d only been as strong as he was now, he could’ve gotten better, could’ve stayed. But he had been small, and sickly, a walking corpse at the best of times. Despite his frailty, Steven was a good person. Helped others when he could, did as well as he could in school, navigating around his numerous hospital visits. So when he reached the pearly gates. The angel Gabriel had looked upon him and made a decision. He had seen something in Steven Rogers, and had decided to match Steven’s body to his spirit.

The learning curve on this new body was long and full of not quite knowing how to move without breaking something expensive. Steven had become Gabriel’s sort of...project. He trained Steven to be the best angel he could be, trusted Steven to follow without question. Gabriel wasn’t aware of how stubborn the Rogers’ only son could be when he thought something wasn’t right. When Gabriel told Steven of the horrors of Hell and its creatures, Steve couldn’t quite believe it. He knew their were bad people in the world, but his Ma had taught him that not everyone was all bad. Steven wasn’t going to follow anyone until he knew the truth, and he’d found it.

So Steven took a step off the beaten path and did the right thing, much to Gabriel’s disappointment. Steven did his best to stay out of trouble and do his job, but trouble seemed to be stuck to him like a tattoo. Kind of like he hoped Bucky would be stuck to him later.


Another pot of trouble Steven had just stirred up. Nice and hot. Not that he regretted it. Something about the demon pulled him in, made Steven need to be as close as possible at all times. Bucky made Steven feel the need to take everything he knew about himself and throw it to the wolves. Steven just couldn’t figure out why. He’d barely known this guy for all of a week and now he was attached as far as the eye could see. He just hoped Bucky felt the same way.

As Steven turned to stare up at his smooth white ceiling, he had the sudden realization that Sam was probably going to stab him in the throat with a pair of knitting needles. (“It’s practical, Steven. You know how many pairs of socks I can make with this?” “Whatever you say, pal.”) Steven hadn’t called or texted since he met Bucky, seeing as that was just about the only thing he was capable of thinking about, let alone eating and occasionally breathing.

There was a good possibility Sam would stab him twice after finding out about Bucky. Realistically it would be three times. Just to make sure his point got across. Steven knew it was inevitable, seeing as he couldn’t ever really lie to Sam. Every time he tried, Sam pulled out his “stop bullshitting” frown and Steven cracked.

“Damn it.”

“Shit,” Steven mumbled and spouted off a quick apology prayer. He wasn’t a complete heathen. Most of the time.


Bucky Barnes was a fucking lunatic, he was sure of it. As soon as he’d left Steven, he’d swaggered right out of that club and into the muggy Queens air. He was so high off Steve’s aura Bucky wasn’t exactly sure how he got to Natasha’s place. As soon as he arrived he was swinging open the door and bouncing not exactly gracefully to the couch. As Bucky plopped down in a sexed up stupor, Natasha came strolling in from her bedroom across the hall.

“Barnes, why the fuck are you almost passed out on my couch with a God damned boner?

All Bucky could answer with was quiet laughter before whispering, “Fuck, Steve.”

Natasha slowly crept around the couch, wrinkling her nose as she went.

“You,” She noted.

“Hope so. Means I’s doin’ it right,” Bucky giggled.

“Doing what? Or should I say whom, exactly?” Natasha interrogates, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Ha. Steeeeve,” Bucky drawls.

“Who the hell is Steve, and why do I get the distinct feeling you’ve just opened a world of trouble, Bucky?”

Natasha looked slightly worried now, as she cocked her head for an answer.

“Hmm Steve’s an Angel , Nat. Biiiiig trouble. Can’t wait.”

What the fuck?” Natasha was in his face now, trying to pry some kind of coherent answer out of Bucky.

“S’fine, Nat. It’s good. So good ,” Bucky practically moaned, before throwing his head back and passing out cold, vaguely aware of the fact that Natasha was never going to let this go.


Natasha Romaoff had been a part of Bucky’s life for about a hundred years now. He met her a few years after the first World War and she’d been saving his ass ever since. Natasha was a witch, hailing from the great frozen planes of the Russian tundra. She had fled to New York to escape the Revolution, fearing someone would find her out. When you were a witch, you were born one, and most likely came from a long line of them. It was impossible to avoid, seeing as the more magic you did, the longer you lived. Natasha was probably going to live forever. She cast spells to clean her apartment, spells to fold her clothes, spells to help Bucky get home in whenever she could tell he was a drunken disaster.

They’d first met when Bucky was, well, a drunken disaster. He had been on a bender of parties and booze, fresh out of Hell and ready to live again, forget all his mistakes by making more. They had crashed into each other in a bar, and Bucky immediately made a pass. He had torn through lovers like drinks back then, not caring about the hearts he stepped across to get to the other side. Natasha had rolled her eyes, cursing him in her heavily accented Russian. When Bucky had replied in perfectly rolling words, her eyes had widened like dinner plates. They had been friends ever since.

When the Depression crashed down on them, she’d made sure they were always warm and fed, when the War rolled around, she had let him go, let him try to make up for his past. But she kept him safe. A spell that took her days of runes and chants around crystals and herbs. No bullet ever touched him. He never got sick or too cold. Bucky Barnes became the USSR’s best damned sniper because Natasha Romanoff had kept him alive. Bucky wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to repay her, but he could sure as Hell try. He had no idea why she had stayed around, even after he had finally come out and told her what he’d done. Why he had gone to Hell. So Bucky constantly brought her pretty little trinkets and good food. He even got her a cat, a little black ball of purrs that no one else had wanted. Khoshekh had become her familiar, constantly entwined with Nat’s legs as she walked.

They had lived through it all, and still weren’t quite sure where they fit. Bucky was tired of just existing . He wanted to live for something, something good and at least kind of honest. Maybe that was why he was so drawn to Steven. Big blue eyes, so nice and pure and full of trust. Maybe that was what Bucky needed.

Something good.


“Where the fu- excuse me, heck have you been, Steven?” Sam exclaimed down the line.

“Just...around. I’ve been thinking. A lot. life,” Steven figured that was vague enough to sate Sam for now.

“Huh. And how’d that go?” Sam snarked.

“Um. Hm. Well. Good, I guess.”

“And you’re not having… relations with a Demon, right?”

Steven gasped so quick he choked.

What?” He wheezed back.

“Steve. I came by your apartment yesterday and the whole hall reeked of Demon. I kind of put two and two together when the Demon left your apartment zipping up his jeans.”

“I- Sam-okay yeah. Yes. I. Had sex with a Demon. Hear me out,” Steven stuttered.

“I’m, albeit slightly disturbed, listening,” Sam replied.

“Sam, you know how I feel about Demons and other beings the Angels hate. Most of them aren’t all bad. Bucky- the Demon, isn’t bad. I promise,” Steven finishes.

“Look man, I want to believe you, but you’re already in enough trouble with the big guys upstairs. This isn’t a good idea. And, you don’t know anything about this- guy. He could be evil for all you know Steven.” Sam reasons.

Steven feels his head shake immediately. Sam didn’t get it. He felt the same way about treating Hell creatures better, but he wouldn’t understand whatever this was. Steven didn’t even understand it.

“He’s not. You just have to trust me, Sam. I know what I’m doing.”

Steven had no idea what he was doing.

“...And I suppose you want me to keep your secret safe?” Sam questions, an amused lilt to his voice, even if he’s not completely convinced.

“Please,” Steven breathes out, almost whispering.

“Fine. You have my word, but you’d better watch out, Steven. Gabriel will have your head.” Sam finishes with a sigh.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steven relented quietly.

He had no idea if he really was sorry for liking Bucky. He didn’t want to be. Steven wasn’t going to let him go, though, Gabriel be damned.

“You aren’t. I’m going to knit you a hat so I don’t come over and hurt you. When I give it to you please know it is out of disappointment,” Sam replies before hanging up promptly.

Steven groaned and flopped onto his couch. What the fuck was...everything? If Steven was honest, all he wanted to do was fuck Bucky and be happy. Not a lot to ask. Speaking of Bucky, Steven hadn’t slowed down enough to think about how he’d find him again. Bucky had said Steven would find out soon enough, but how soon was that? Steven snorted at himself. He was acting like a teenage girl in love. Bucky would find him when he was ready. Steven dropped his phone onto the coffee table, closing his eyes again as they hit the pillow behind him.


Steven woke up to the blare of a car horn outside. He groaned as he stretched, not meaning to have slept for so long. Waltzing into the bathroom, Steven was met with a note on the mirror.

11:00. Don’t be late. Followed by an address.

Steve almost smirked at the message that must have been from Bucky, until his eyes focused on the medium of Bucky’s wall art. The words were streaked across the glass with liquid crimson smears. The note, Steven realized, was written in blood. Whose, he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t belong to the Demon, though. Steven knew the sicky ashen scent of Bucky's blood, had smelled it when the man had been practically attached to him in the club. This smelled human.

“What the fuck , Bucky?”