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These Streets: Bits and Bucks

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights gave off a faint hum, like mosquitoes buzzing continuously. The laminate floors shone bright after what was obviously a recent washing.

Bucky stared down at the rows upon rows of canned veggies, slightly grossed out, but determined. He hated canned foods. It reminded him of his rations, of overcooked, parboiled sweaty food of indiscriminate colours and textures.

But he needed tomato paste and a lot of it, so the canned stuff could do…He chewed his lip.

“Oh, Mr Barnes!” a singing voice rang out. 

Bucky blinked and turned. Who the fuck was grocery shopping at this godforsaken hour? What psychos made public appearances at places like this at this time of darkness?

“Ms. Page?” he frowned. Okay. Not a psycho. Maybe.

She was still in uniform and looked way too chipper for 3am. How was her hair still perfectly pulled back and neat? Bucky felt like he’d rolled out of a den of wolves.

“My, my,” she said with a friendly smile, “A little late for a grocery run isn’t it?”

He cocked a brow at her from under his baseball cap. 
“I know, I know, pot, kettle,” she laughed, swinging her red grocery basket onto her other inner elbow. She had bread, eggs, milk, tampons, toilet paper and a bunch more basics. Was she doing a standard grocery run? Was this normal? 

“You just get off shift?” Bucky rumbled, putting a can of tomatoes back on the shelf. He shrugged his shoulders, stretching them.
“Yup,” she sighed, “But I’ve got six days off, so yippee, you know?”

Bucky nodded. The silence of the grocery store was always eerie at this time. The store didn’t bother to play elevator music or anything either. So it was just the hum of the fridges and the lights bearing down on them.

“Um,” Karen said, “So…what’s–”

Footsteps. Great. Bucky took in a breath, preparing himself.

There you are. Jeez. They don’t have organic honey,” Steve blurted, barging round the aisle corner, arms laden. “Only gross golden syrup, so it’s gonna have to do. Not perfect, but beggars can’t be–oh. Karen. Uh. Hi.”

Bucky didn’t turn, didn’t even acknowledge Steve. He just watched Karen’s face flick between surprise and recognition. “Rogers,” she said with a smile. “You’re here too.” Her eyes flicked towards Bucky.

Steve ambled over while Karen took in the sight. Bucky smirked.

“Uh, dressed down, I see,” she murmured. “Guess there is a normal guy under all that pomp.”

Steve dropped his many grocery goods into the basket Bucky’d been hanging onto. “Yeah, well, you know.” Steve shrugged awkwardly at being found like this. He glanced down at the black sweatpants (Bucky’s), the faded sneakers and mismatched socks and the paint-splattered t-shirt (also Bucky’s) that he’d donned for what was supposed to be a covert late-night shopping mission that was now turning into an interrogation of Steve’s humanly values.

Bucky looked into the basket. 

“You got blueberries,” he rumbled automatically.

“You don’t have to eat them,” Steve said, exasperated.

“Fuckin’ hate blueberries,” Bucky grumbled. “Weren’t there any raspberries?”

“No, just, look, it’s the middle of the night. We can’t have it all, Buck.”

Karen was watching them with a look of what could only be labeled ‘avid glee’. Maybe she was psycho.

“You…uh, you boys planning something here?” she murmured, also eyeing Bucky’s basket. “A fruit salad, perhaps?”

Bucky sighed like the woes of the world sat upon his shoulders. “Pancakes. This guys suddenly needs pancakes. No, he can’t wait til’ morning. He wants ‘em now. Because he’s a grown-ass man and not a kindergartener with the appetite of a buffalo.”

Steve punched his shoulder. “Shut up, you want them too.” Like that was an insult or something.

“I want waffles,”Bucky groused, “But someone broke the damn waffle-maker.”

“Oh, for the love of–” Steve cried and rubbed his face. “I got the frozen kind, okay?”

Bucky glared at him, “You think that’s a substitute? You’re a sick, disgusting guy.”

Steve looked about three seconds away from decking him at three o’clock in the morning down the canned goods aisle. Bucky loved it.

A snort made the men turn.

Karen was laughing into her palm. She snorted louder at the their looks.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” she sniffed, nodding. She tried to compose herself.

Steve looked at Bucky, then back down at her. “Why are you sorry?”

Karen shrugged, “I don’t know! This is cute, Cap! You’re cute! I didn’t expect to see this. It’s weird, and adorable. You two, out and about, dressing like schlepps, buying pancakes together. It’s, it’s cute. Sam’s gonna love this.”

“Don’t–” Bucky began, but was cut off by Steve.

“As your commanding officer, I am asking you not to share gossip about our private lives,” Steve said in a way that made Bucky kind of turn, eyebrows rising. Well, hello.

That only seemed to make Karen bust out into fiercer giggles.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “I’m sorry, but that’s just even more adorable! I can’t take you seriously when you’re wearing sushi socks.” 

Steve was turning pink.

Bucky cleared his throat, “Uh, all right, it’s too early for this shit. Can we go?” 

Steve puffed out his cheeks and nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, probably grateful for Bucky’s famous lack of conversational etiquette for once.

“Oh, please don’t be mad,” Karen said, smiling up at Steve. “It’s nice, Cap. That’s all. I won’t tell Sam, I swear.”

She was clearly lying through her teeth. But Steve sighed and nodded.

“Enjoy your time off, officer Page,” Steve said wearily, following Bucky down the aisle.

“Will do!” Karen cried as Bucky hauled ass. He needed to leave. He hated people. People were awful.

The cashier had glazed-over eyes and definitely did not seem bothered by the two men who’d shown up only to buy sweet breakfast treats in their pyjamas.

Bucky paid in cash while Steve packed their groceries into one of those canvas bags Bucky always forgot to bring because he didn’t care.

“That’s what you get,” Bucky said minutes later, slamming the driver’s door shut and looking at Steve beside him.

“What?” Steve frowned, his hair still a mess from their earlier activities. Bucky probably should have told the guy his sex-hair was out in public, but how would he have guessed they’d bump into anyone familiar? Best to keep that to himself.

“Punishment for making me drive your lazy ass to get pancake mix,” Bucky said.

“Oh please,” Steve rolled his eyes, “Like you wouldn’t do anything for this lazy ass. If I recall correctly, you’d ‘start a new religion and praise my ass all day and all night if you could.’”

“That has nothing do do with grocery runs at fucking midnight,” Bucky said. He started the truck’s engine, revving it loudly in the pretty much deserted parking lot. He pulled the handbrake and paused, one hand on the steering wheel.

“Hey,” he said, making Steve turn back to look at him. 

Bucky tapped his forefinger against Steve’s chin. “I’d praise that ass even without the threat of no waffles,” he said with a grin.

“Oh fuck off,” Steve pushed at him, turning red anyway.

Chapter Text

Bucky was stacking empty pizza boxes in the school gym.

The teenage spring dance (whichever one it was) was as lame as they had been when he was a kid, except with shorter skirts, higher heels and a lot more selfies. Less gelled hair and oversized jackets too.

Why he agreed to chaperone this shit was beyond him.

Oh, right.

The reason was standing over by the DJ table feigning intense interest in Ice’s music setup.

Steve went all out, in a black suit and bowtie, like some kind of Bill Nye dork.

When had it become standard for police to shadow teenage hormone-rage-fests? The neighbourhood was bad, but not that bad. Right?

Bucky sighed and stood back in the shadows. He was in a black shirt and jeans and still felt overdressed. He'd been roped in against his will because not enough parents had come forward and he was considered a fucntioning member of the society because he worked at the Fire Department. What a crock.

All chaperones were in black, so at least they all looked like the unpaid staff that they were.

“Hey, you think there’ll be leftovers?” Natasha said, sidling up beside him. She was making the teenage boys in the room renounce every prayer of goodness they’d ever spoken to the local pastor. Her velvet dress was long and streamlined and perfectly tasteful, but it was Natasha…so, you know. 

“We’re not taking leftover teenage grub,” Bucky snorted and watched her rearrange the half-eaten pizzas on the plastic-covered table. Some godawful song played loud in their ears and a bunch of kids screeched in unison. Bucky didn’t have the best memories of high school, but he was pretty sure he’d never danced a whack-ass version of the salsa with his teenage friends. He’d been more surly and detached in that lame teenage angsty way.

Natasha turned and nudged him with her elbow. She surveyed the room.

“So, any wild perversions going down on the dance floor yet?” she asked. “Do I need to whip out a crowbar?”

“Please,” Bucky snagged a passing off-brand coke from a tray. He cracked it open and took a big swig. “These children wouldn’t know their dicks from their faces.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so crass, Barnes.”

“Hey, remember when we came to a dance?” Bucky smirked around the lip of his can. 
“Yes, unfortunately,” Natasha sighed over the din of dancing feet and howling teenagers. The strobe lights flashed green and the music changed into a throbbing bass beat.

“Unfortunately? Hey now,” Bucky said. “We had fun.”

“Yeah, I really enjoy recalling the dorky awkward teenage version of you trying to cop a feel.”

“Pfft,” Bucky snorted and watched Steve across the room. The man was weaving his way through some kids taking group selfies, like there wasn’t a dumb photo booth set up in the gym corner. “I was always slick. Suave, even.”

“You sure were,” Natasha laughed. “But you probably shouldn’t be daydreaming about the first time we got busy when your man’s standing right over there.”

“Oh, you mean the idiot being accosted by a gaggle of teenage girls?” Bucky intoned wryly.

He smiled as Steve was yanked into an uncomfortable pose, bent down so his face was at the same level as the fifteen year old girls giggling like fools with their iphones.

“So, what’s a decent time for me to roll out?” Bucky asked.

Natasha eyed him. “Ten. We got clean up.”

“Oh, fuck my life,” Bucky sighed. He tossed his now-empty can in the nearby trash. “Can’t I just steal Steve and go make out under the bleachers?”

“You know we don’t have bleachers at this school, right? We don’t even have a field,” Natasha said archly, arms folding across her chest.

“I don’t hear a no…” Bucky hummed, eyes on Steve as the man walked over, finally catching Bucky’s gaze.

“Keep it in your pants, idiot,” Natasha said, smiling as Steve approached.



He was outside, mercifully free of the kids and the lights and the terrible music. His cigarette burned bright and he exhaled sharply upwards, trying to discern any stars.

He’d come back here when he was a kid, hung around with the bad kids. Well, they weren’t all bad, just morons, if he was honest. Oh how time and experience could change a man’s outlook.

He heard voices and automatically flicked his smoke aside, like Mrs. Gregory was still working here, stalking the school grounds. He stepped back into the closed doorway.

“This is the last of it?” Steve’s familiar voice followed.

“Yes, sir,” Teddy said.

The two appeared, rustling oversized garbage bags in their hands. The piles of trash were definitely building up. Bucky’d brought out four bags himself. He watched Steve and Teddy heave the bags into the dumpster specially booked for this evening.

“I see you got that dance you wanted,” Steve was saying, wiping his hands on his trousers. 

Teddy shrugged, “Yeah.” God, the kid was so transparent, Bucky could hear the oozy happiness leaking out of him. “I didn’t think Billy’d want to, but, you know.”

Steve ruffled the kid’s hair and chuckled. “You really like him, huh?”

“Yup,” Teddy breathed out, saying it like it was obvious. “He is the best. I think I even love him. Maybe. Not sure, but maybe.”

“Oh, wow,” Steve said, “them’s big words.”

Teddy paused, stopping. They were almost back round the corner, so Bucky could only just see them in the dim lighting. He didn’t know why he was even listening. It was so dumb. He was a fucking grown-up!
“Well, I mean, you love Bucky, right, Officer Rogers?”

Had Bucky been smoking, he would have probably choked.

Steve sort of rocked on his feet and rubbed at his hair, making a mess of what was previously a perfectly combed coiff. “Uh, well, yeah.” He said it like it was obvious.

Bucky felt his neck and ears warm. Jesus, he shouldn’t be listening to this shit.

“It’s kinda obvious, I mean, with you guys,” Teddy blathered on. “Me and Billy, we’re still kids. I get that. Maybe I’m dumb, but I think it’s love. Or something close. But I’m never gonna tell him that.”

Steve was quiet a moment. “Why’s that?”

Teddy shrugged, “He doesn’t like mushy stuff. It makes him bug out.”

Steve nodded. “Hmm, yeah, I might know a thing or two about that.”

Teddy rubbed at his nose. “You…you ever told Bucky? I mean, ‘cos, I don’t think I’m gonna tell Billy…but, I figure if you guys–”

“No, actually,” Steve said. “I haven’t.”

Teddy seemed to swallow, perhaps realizing he’d put two feet in it at once.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Sorry?” Steve asked with a laugh, “Why?”

“Well, I mean…” Teddy trailed off.

“Look, hey,” Steve patted Teddy’s shoulder while Bucky held his breath and tried not to feel the dull, wet thud in his chest. “I get it. Bucky’s…well, he’s Bucky.”

“Yeah, but–” Teddy began.

“Hold on,” Steve placated him, “Let me finish.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this horrifyingly disappointing story.
He felt a little ill. Love? Love was a lot. Love was…easy. But it also wasn’t, at all. Did Steve worry about this kind of thing? Of course he would! Bucky knew this every time they finished having sex, or finished a phone call late at night. He should be ending every conversation with some kind of affectionate…thing, right? He chewed his lip. But that wasn’t realistic. At all. I made his hands sweat and his stomach roll.

“Bucky’s not like everyone else,” Steve went on. “Bucky’s unique, right? And we both know that. What he and I have got, it’s super important, and yeah, I love the ever-lovin’ crap outta his dumb ass…but it doesn’t mean we gotta say it.”

Teddy just radiated sympathy. “But…officer Rogers…Don’t you want him to tell you he loves you? I’d want to know if Billy did.”

Steve smiled in the dim lights bouncing off the faded brick wall of the school building.

“Not everybody’s the same, kid. Look, here’s how it is: I don’t need Bucky to tell me he loves me.” Steve tilted his head. “I just need him to love me. Saying it doesn’t make it more valuable, not in our case. If it’s something that makes him uncomfortable, then I’m not pushing it.”

Bucky’s throat felt tight as he struggled to swallow.

Teddy nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.”



“Oh God, Buck,” Steve gasped, sweat covering his skin as he came.
Bucky panted, licking at every piece of skin he could touch. He’d taken Steve apart good and slow, from the minute they got in the house to this second here, he’d spent it lavishing as many kisses and caresses as he could onto Steve. “W-we got work in…like,” Steve panted, head flopping back on the pillow. “Four hours.”

Bucky kissed Steve’s collarbone, then up his neck. His eyes met Steve’s and he pecked those pink, gasping lips. 

“Did I do a good job?” he purred.

Steve frowned, “You mean at the dance? Or here?”

Bucky just grinned, making Steve roll his eyes.

“Yes, all right. Mr. Barnes, you blew my mind. Again. You are an excellent lover and chaperone, but not at the same time.”

“Good,” Bucky kissed Steve, slow and purposeful. He stared down at this man, this beautifully crafted, sweet and generous guy. “Because you deserve to be loved on. Every day. All day.”

Steve blinked up at him lazily. “Okay. I’ll take that.”

Bucky stared at him. 

“Buck?” Steve murmured. “You okay?”

Bucky shifted, settling himself on top of Steve. He pushed at some stray hairs that were sticking to Steve’s forehead. “Yeah, I’m good,” he murmured and kissed Steve deeply.

Steve groaned into it. 

Bucky was good. Steve was great. And Bucky had time still to figure himself out. If only because Steve was so patient with him.

Chapter Text

“Ugh,” Steve groaned and tried to get away from it. Away from the heat and the smothering sensation of someone in his be– “wha?” he blinked and flipped over sharply.

And holy hell on a hot wheel® hot rod, Bucky had actually stayed over this time (!!).

The other man was splayed out on his back, arms spread, shirtless and glistening with sweat.

It was too hot for the blanket, as Steve’s body had obviously realized hours ago, judging by the way the blanket was piled up between him and Bucky, leaving Steve’s skin free to calm down in the warm summer air.

Bucky’s body seemed to be working its way there, though. He was getting all pink in the cheek and down his neck, along with the sweat he was all but swimming in. The man’s dark hair was damp against his forehead and coming out of the knot he usually tied it up in before bedtime. Steve always loved watching Bucky’s bedtime routine:

  • Brush teeth
  • lay on the clinical strength deodorant (because Bucky Barnes has no fear of possibly life-altering chemicals, but does have a fear of sweating through his gear the next day)
  • Then roughly pull his hair back into a bun of sorts. He didn’t call it a bun, but it was totally a bun.

Steve heard about the way his colleagues’ and friends’ girlfriends would leave random hair ties and clips and barrettes and stuff lying around. Some of his fellow cops joked it was about laying down territorial markers like, ‘’Ey, this guy’s place is mine. And the guy too, I guess’.

Bucky never left anything lying around. Steve was pretty sure he had to have a stash of hair ties somewhere, but Bucky never had extras on him. He was always snapping them, then frustratingly pushing his hair away from his sculpted, sharp features like some damn Vogue model in a black and white photoshoot. And it drove Steve bonkers. Like Bucky was unaware how goddamn sexy he was. How stupidly hot he could be. How simple gestures would make his arms bulge and when he bent over, how his jeans would snug up against that ass. Infuriating.

Sure, Bucky was a hotshot once in the bedroom, but it was the other shit that got Steve riled up in the worst moments and with the worst spectators.

Like at the local ballgame. How Bucky’d eaten that damn popsicle like some … some… floozy! Natasha had ribbed Steve for days about the look on his own face, watching the beefiest, most dangerous dude on the block sucking on a bright red popsicle in the glorious Brooklyn sunshine without a care in the world.

But here, in Steve’s bed? Bucky was just like everybody else. Bucky Barnes snuffled in his sleep. Once, he’d drooled on Steve’s pillow. Another time he’d held on so tight that Steve ended up late for an early shift because Bucky was a creepy octopus in his sleep too.

And sometimes, like today, he was just sweet and sweaty and normal.

Steve scooched closer until he could lay his head on Bucky’s shoulder, the other man’s arm under his neck. Bucky snuffled. Steve bit his lip in a grin. It was still hot in his bedroom. He really needed to get a better air conditioner. The one in the window pretty much puffed out dust and mites exclusively, he was sure.

Steve slid in closer, feeling the tackiness of Bucky’s skin against his own. Five minutes ago this had been unbearable. Now, he just had to get close. Bucky smelled like himself. He wasn’t a cologne user, so it wasn’t like Bucky had a distinct fragrance about him. But he did smell unique. Especially right now.

“Unh,” Bucky grunted, frowning in his sleep. “St’v. ‘S hot.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Steve chuckled. Bucky’s little frown lines were so cute.

“Nooo,” Bucky whined softly, and pushed at Steve’s face. “‘S hot, St’v.”

Steve gently kissed Bucky’s neck. He slid his other hand down the expanse of Bucky’s chest, gently trailing and weaving around the many muscles and dips and valleys.

Steve felt a rumble rise in his own chest as his eyes followed his fingers down…down.

He slipped his hand under the blanket piled around Bucky’s hips.

Bucky breathed in softly, but didn’t wake.

Steve watched those pink lips, that face, for any and all reactions.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, then rolled suddenly, twisting Steve’s wrist at a weird angle and bonking his head into Steve’s rather overstated nose.

“Ow,” Steve hissed and pulled back. “Shit, ow!”

He rubbed his nose while Bucky resettled, half on top of him.

Oh God, this wasn’t going to work at all. It was too warm and they were both sweaty and Bucky was ignorantly still asleep like some idiot. And now Steve was overheating, his eyes were watering because his nose was screaming and it kind of made him ill and his tummy was curling in his gut.

“Mrrrmh,” Bucky rumbled, heaving a leg over Steve’s hip.

Steve blessed all the saints in heaven when Bucky’s knee narrowly missed nailing him in the nuts. “Okay, no, this is too much,” Steve said and tried to extricate himself. “This isn’t romantic, and it ain’t cute.”

“C’m’n,” Bucky mumbled into his neck. “C’m’n, baby. Let’s m-may-kowt.”

He was definitely not awake. Was this this Bucky’s sleep slurring?

“Oh, come on,” Steve whined, pulling at the hand currently curled around his ribs. It held fast, even seemed to grip tighter. Steve squealed as the fingers dug into his very sensitive, super ticklish ribs. Steve couldn’t stop it. Bucky shot up suddenly, awake and wide-eyed, hair a mess.

“Th’ fuck whazzat?” He said loudly, his voice scratchy.

“Nothing, nothing,” Steve said softly, pulling away. “You, uh, poked me.”

Bucky blearily looked down at the strange sight of Steve trying to slowly roll away. Bucky frowned. “Izz too hot, Steve.” he grumbled, almost angrily. “Yeah, it is,” Steve rolled further, like a turtle trying to right itself. He almost made it, facing the wall, before a strong, big arm grabbed him and yanked him close, slamming his back against a broad, firm, sweaty chest of muscle.

“G’ back t’ sleep,” Bucky rumbled, and settled almost immediately back into a sweaty, calm slumber, his arm pinning Steve to him like a vice.

Steve stared at the wall.

Damnit, he couldn’t even get his phone from here.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Bucky grunted, heaving firewood onto the truck bed. He turned to meet the person staring at him.

Kate just stood there, arms crossed, her mismatched mittens peeking out from under her elbows. Her floppy knitted hat was drooping in the cold air.

He paused after loading up some more wood, then wiped at his forehead. “Uh, you here for Clint?” he asked.

“No,” Kate shook her head.

They were outside, Bucky squinting, the street lamps having only just come on.

“Well, uh,” Bucky breathed, frowning. “Are you looking for Nat?”

“No,” Kate said.

Bucky rubbed a work glove over his itchy nose. The sawdust was not being tempered by the cold, damp air.

“Well, come on, kid, help me out a little,” Bucky said, throwing his hands up. “They’re at the store right now.”

“I want to talk,” she said abruptly. “To you.”

Bucky paused, blinking slowly at this whip of a teenager.

“With me?” he asked warily. Kate rarely spoke to him. She was the quieter one of the dynamic duo, the one who thought things through, who was always reading, or peering at folks from behind oversized sunglasses. She did not talk to Bucky. She didn’t much talk to anyone.

She reminded him of Natasha’s goth phase back in the nineties; back when Natasha was also just a teenage bucket of hormones sloshing around like the rest of ‘em. Before she acquired a sense of self, of course.

“Uh, okay,” Bucky stood up. His back was aching a bit after all the work he’d done throughout the day. Moving Steve’s furniture while the guy was at work had been a real pain in the ass, but building the new stupid TV cabinet had been worse. He hated allen keys. “What you need?”

Kate shrugged and frowned. Oh God, she looked unhappy. Bucky didn’t know what to ask. He was shit with kids.

“America,” Kate began, then huffed. “I’m … we’re…”

“Oh, is this whatever it was that got you two fighting?” Bucky asked. He leaned against the truck.

“How do you know?” Kate looked up sharply. “Was she here already, talking–“

“Nope,” Bucky said, and tugged out his pack of smokes. He tapped one out and flipped it to his lips. He dug in his back jeans pocket for the small lighter he’d swiped from beside Steve’s absurd bathroom candle collection. He lit up, puffed for a second, then flicked the lighter into his palm. “Teddy and Billy said you guys got real loud at school. Said almost everyone saw you two fighting.”

“Oh God,” Kate rubbed at her face. She was definitely the more socially concerned part of the America/Kate diva duo. America hadn’t said shit to Bucky yesterday about the fight, so he hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t behaved any differently either. Kate was wearing a bit more of her heart on her sleeve here, so it musta been big. “We totally made a scene.”

“So I hear,” Bucky said, exhaling up and out into the night air. Here was where he should be taking after Steve: asking questions, poking his nose in, being rude. He didn’t want to. But the kid had clearly come over here explicitly to see him. Why, Bucky didn’t get. He wasn’t any kind of teenage-whisperer.

He watched her rub at her face, clearly almost as uncomfortable as him.

Kate wasn’t like America. She’d been burned already by the adults in her life. She’d been working her way through the foster system her whole life, only settling into this neighbourhood a few years ago. Bucky knew she’d had it rough for a really long time and that it was Clint who had her open up and take to the community. Hence why she stayed. Getting America was probably more than she bargained for, which the adults liked to joke about sometimes.

“You wanna talk about it? Or just watch me smoke?” Bucky grunted. He offered her the pack. She glared at him.

“You gonna die of cancer,” she said.

He shrugged. “Gotta die one day.”

“Can’t believe you just offered me a cigarette. Ugh,” she folded her arms back up. “Okay, look. We were fighting because I called her out on something. And I think she doesn’t get it. She’s being selfish.”

Bucky’s brows flew into his hair.

He didn’t say anything, just sucked on his cigarette. Kate glared at him some more, like he was dragging information out of her under knifepoint. “So you heard what her plans are, right?” Kate blurted.

“Plans?” Bucky frowned.

“Yeah, her plans,” Kate said, exasperation tinging her voice. “Her big, super-fly, crazy huge plans! Her plans to fuckin’ take over the world or whatever.”

“Nope,” Bucky said. “Ain’t heard that yet.”

Kate sighed loudly and strenuously in a way that only teenagers could: full of angst and annoyance. Like it was Bucky’s fault he couldn’t read her mind.

“She said she wants to go to college. Become some big hotshot,” Kate said loudly.

Bucky blinked. “Oh yeah?”

“No, not yeah! Not okay!” Kate blurted, “It’s not–it’s not okay, Bucky!”

He frowned. “Why?”

“How’s she gonna do that? How’s she gonna find the money? From her imaginary inheritance? She’s gonna what? Work at the craft store for twelve years to pay off the insane student loan the government might be willing to burden her with? She’s gonna haul ass to fuckin’ Chicago or somewhere and break her brains thinking she’s gotta do this? Why’s she being crazy? Why’s she not rational about this? She can’t fuckin’ go! It’s not something us guys get to have, you know? I mean, you know!”

She waved a hand wildly in Bucky’s direction.

He waited a moment before responding.

“I know?” he said.

“Yeah…” she petered off. “You know it ain’t that easy.”

Bucky frowned, “You sayin’ she shouldn’t be aiming so high?”

“Exactly,” Kate sighed. “It’s crazy.”

“Is it?” he answered. “‘Cos I don’t see why not.”

“She can’t afford it,” Kate said matter-of-factly. “She can’t do it.”

“Oh, she totally can,” Bucky said. “We all know that kid. She’s gonna stab God himself in the face if he looks at her wrong and tells her she can’t do something. You know that.”

“No, I mean realistically,” Kate huffed, slamming the edge of her palm into her other hand matter-of-factly. “Her dreams ain’t gonna be fulfilled by the Man. She’s getting her hopes up. You gotta tell her. She listens to you. It’s just …dumb.”

Bucky puffed at his smoke a bit.

“Are you sayin’ you guys had a fight ‘cos she wants to go out there and bust ass, fulfill her dreams and she shouldn’t?”

Kate scowled at him. God, she was still really a kid, with a look as petulant as that.

“Or is it ‘cos she’s leaving,” he finished. “And you don’t want her to go?”

The colour drained from Kate’s face. “That’s…not it, Bucky.

He stood up, dropped his cigarette, and stubbed it out with the toe of his boot. “You know, you can go with her,” he said. “You’re not shackled to Brooklyn.”

“No, I can’t,” and her voice sounded plaintive, hurt. He looked up and met the sad, familiar face of a teenage kid who was having her heart torn out. “I don’t have the grades, I don’t got the money, and I don’t wanna go to, like, Chicago.”

Bucky felt his own black, dead heart soften.

“Hey, kid, come on,” he murmured. “You got yourself a girlfriend that would bash villains’ heads in for stickin’ up the local bodega. You also have a good head on your shoulders.”

“No I don’t,” she said forcefully.

“Yeah, you damn well do,” he said. “Honestly, I’m not surprised she wants to go. She’s too big for this place. She’s gonna do it. But she’ll need you, you know. Can you seriously imagine that Latina cannon let loose on another city? You gotta be real.”

“I am being real,” Kate said, “That sorta stuff ain’t for people like us, like me and her. We can’t make it.”

Bucky snorted. “You serious? You guys had a big dumb fight because you’re scared she’s gonna fly off into the sunset without you?”

“That’s not what I said,” Kate harrumphed back.

“Well, it’s what I heard,” he tilted his head and shrugged.

“You’re fuckin’ terrible at this,” she said sharply. “America always says she comes to you for help. You suck.”

He shrugged again, lips turning up on one side. “I never said I was some life guru, kid.”

“Well, it’s not helping!” she said. “What would you do if Steve fuckin’ decided his future was in another city? That he’d always planned to leave home, go out and maybe never come back?”

Bucky made a face. “You know he’s a grown man with legs and a brain, right? Nobody has ahold on anyone else’s life. You gotta know that by now.”

“Exactly!” Kate wailed, voice breaking. “And I can’t stop her!” She covered her eyes and a shaky sob escaped. Oh no.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky stepped up to her, “come on, don’t get all riled up now.”

She fell towards him, pressing her hands and face into his chest. “It’s so dumb!” she muffled loudly, sobbing into his jacket. “She’s so dumb!”

Bucky put his arms around her, aware of how rare this was: Kate showing anyone any kind of soft side.

“Hey, look,” he murmured. “Have you even asked her if you can just go with?”

Kate shook her head, shouwlders shaking,  probably smearing snot and tears on his clothing. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fuck, kid, you gotta talk to her. I know neither of you’s bigger’n a bean sprout, but you’re almost adults, you know. You gotta be honest.”

She snuffled loudly and pulled back, wiping at her pink nose and wet eyes. Crap, Bucky was too weak for sad faces.

“But I was never in her big stupid plan,” Kate blubbered. She snuffled and wiped at a tear making its way down her cheek.

“Kate,” Bucky took her by the shoulders and stared her down. “America has never, ever had a plan for anything. It’s a miracle she’s still alive, to be honest. The way she pisses people off and goes storming into danger all the time? Come on. She’ll definitely need you. You can be her planner.”

“But we’re only eighteen,” she sniffed. “We ain’t shit.”

“Yeah?” he said, “Well look at me. I ain’t shit either, but I got most of my life together. Just takes time, is all.”

“You’re not shit-shit,” Kate said. “You’re amazing.”

He blinked at her. No one ever said stuff like that to him.

“Uh, okay,” he said. She pulled away, wiping at the wetness on her face some more before clearing her throat and standing up straighter.

“Okay, whatever,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky stepped back to give her some breathing room. “You done snivelling all over me?”

She glared at him, full force. There it is.

“I take it back, you’re total shit,” she said, voice still clogged up.

“Atta girl,” he smiled.



“Ummm…” Steve said a few evenings later,  coming back into the living room. Bucky was sprawled on the sofa, easing into a nice long weekend just the way he liked. “You got a package.”

Bucky snorted, “It’s all yours, pal,” he grunted, not looking away from the TV.

Steve sighed and flopped onto the sofa beside him. “No, you ass, I mean this was on your doorstep when I went to haul the trash to the curb.”

He dropped a box on Bucky’s lap. Bucky blinked down at it. It was just a nondescript brown box with tons of tape holding the badly damaged seams together.

“No label,” Steve murmured. He stared at Bucky. “You gonna open it, or what?”

“Is it from you?” Bucky eyed Steve warily.

“I swear to God,” Steve rolled his eyes, “just the thought of a present from me sends you into friggin’ fits. No, it’s not from me, Buck.”

Bucky sighed and pulled the box closer. The two of them took turns picking at the layers of weirdly coloured tape.

Finally, Bucky was able to just wrench the cardboard, breaking the tape’s hold. The box tore and a sea of gold, green and blue glitter poured out all over his lap, hands, arms and legs.

“Agh!” Bucky squawked and jumped.

“Oh God!” Steve yelped, “Don’t move–wait…Bucky…”

“Shit!” Bucky barked, leaping to his feet. “FUCK.” He yelped, “What the fuckin’ hell is this? Some weird-ass late Halloween bullshit?”

Steve was trying to grab at him, “Keep still, you idiot. You’re getting it everywhere…ugh. Now it’s on the fuckin’ rug and all over you.”

“Augh!” Bucky growled, tossing his hand, unfortunately pouring even more glitter over himself. “Shit!”

“Oh, a note!” Steve bent over, getting a flush of sparkles all in his hair, because he was a dumbass. He pulled at the rainbow-coloured piece of paper, and Bucky felt his stomach sink a little.

To Bucky,” Steve read, still tugging at Bucky’s sweats to get him to sit down. Bucky just glared at his very existence. “Thank you for being annoying and irritating and no help whatsoever,” Steve went on. “Thanks to you, I’ve been looking into the scholarship process and how many community hour projects will be needed to accomplish this stupid mission. Now I have a huge list of annoying things to do that have nothing to do with my future, but somehow are v. important anyhow. So now that I’m writing lists in my bullet journal about more essays and more ass-kissing, and more ways to score extra cash, I thought you’d enjoy this shower of sparkles and unicorn crap all over your life. Consider it a warning.

Steve paused and frowned. “It’s signed with a skull smoking a cigarette?” he eyed Bucky. “And something…
P.S.: I picked the one thing to give you that I figured you’d hate more than anything else. Enjoy.
P.P.S.: The glitter is organic seaweed so it’s not dangerous to rub some all over your boyfriend’s stupid face.’

Steve pouted and then nodded. “What did you do?” he asked, looking Bucky over. “And why am I involved?”

“I helped,” Bucky groused, setting the box aside. “How is this a gift of gratitude?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed and looked them over. “This stuff’s gonna get everywhere. Where do you even buy this much glitter?”

“She probably lifted it,” Bucky grumbled, wiping at his shirt where oodles of glitter had pooled. It was sticking to his every patch of skin.

“She?” Steve raised a brow.

“Hush, officer,” Bucky sighed. He looked at Steve, with glitter in his hair and, somehow, some on his nose.

“Do I wanna know?” Steve asked.

“It’s boring,” Bucky sighed.

“Barnes, did you do something nice?” Steve asked, peering at him.

“I said, shut your face hole, Rogers,” Bucky insisted, swiping his palm across Steve’s cheek and leaving a trail of mermaid colours in its wake.

“Oh my God, you totally did,” Steve grinned. “You always avoid talking about when you’ve been nice.”

“If you keep nagging me, I ain’t letting you suck my dick tonight,” Bucky said.

Steve grinned. He looked like a damn fool.

“Your eyelashes are twinkling at me,” Steve snorted. “So I feel inclined to ignore that comment. You’d never say no to a blowjob.”

“Urgh!” Bucky got to his feet. “I need to shower and get this fuckin’ shit off me.”

“But it’s cute!” Steve cried, watching Bucky go. “You can get a head start in drag, Buck! You know that’s something you wanna get into!”

“We’re not having this conversation again, Rogers,” Bucky growled, leaving the living room, a trail of glitter floating behind him.

Steve snickered some more.

“You want any company? I can light some candles!” Steve yelled.

Bucky scowled and rounded the staircase, wondering how much of this crap the vacuum would be able to pick up.

“Only if you’re gonna help scrub,” Bucky groused, barely audible.

He heard a loud, “Ooof!” and the thundering of feet as Steve came jogging out the living room.

“Well,” Steve laughed, sprinkling more glitter on the floor like some kind of bizarre elf. “I mean, if you need the help. I have extra hands for helping.”

“Shut it, Rogers. Let’s go,” Bucky grabbed the other man by the front of his shirt and dragged him up the stairs, intent on ridding his every cell of this intolerable sparkly shit.

Chapter Text

Bucky’s front door slammed shut, rattling the walls and echoing around into the kitchen.

He looked up, then at the clock. 8pm.


He pushed at the massive dough ball on the kitchen counter, running the heels of his hands through the floury ball.

“Steve?” he said loudly. If it was, in fact, an intruder they’d have to wait until he got this dough in the fridge.

“Fuck,” he heard Steve grunt. Okay, good. A couple more thuds followed from the front hall. Boots getting tossed aside. Rustling of slidey fabric and then another curse.

Bucky rolled the dough some more, frowning at it. He wasn’t much of a baker, but he figured this would be cheaper than buying a ton of slider buns in the morning.

Stupid local church charity runs. He doesn’t even go to church. America just bullied him into this. Why did he let the teenagers do this to him? He’d already over-estimated the amount he should make.

The ball of dough was very large. He eyed the ceramic bowl he’d chosen to plop it into.

“Fuck,” he muttered and hefted it. The dough landed in the bowl with a thud, blobbing over the sides.

“Steve,” he said, “You got any bigger bowls at your place?” He pushed at the dough. How was it gonna expand like this? “I fucked up.”

Steve finally made an appearance. His uniform shirt was undone, hanging open over his pale grey t-shirt and uniform pants. The gun belt was gone, and his socks were mismatched.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, face all bent out of shape.

Bucky’s brows rose of their own volition.

“Bad day, pal?” he said.

Steve looked him up and down. “You’re baking.”

Bucky held up his doughy fingers. Obviously.

“You look...uh...pissed?” Bucky said, picking at a particularly sticky piece of dough stuck between two fingers.

“I am,” Steve grunted. He was staring at Bucky’s bare feet. “Suspect’s evidence got contaminated by a damn rookie lawyer. Now we gotta start fresh on new evidence ‘cos the judge has thrown it out.”

“Oh, damn,” Bucky said, frowning. “Want me to go plant some evidence? Bloody revolver? Kilo of coke?”

He grinned wide at Steve’s annoyed look. At least he was making eye contact.

“Don’t even joke,” Steve said roughly, coming into the room. He glared at Bucky’s dough. Okay, it’s wasn’t perfect but sheesh, judgy much? “What are you making?”

“Buns,” Bucky said, flexing his sticky fingers. He shrugged. Steve was still glaring. “What’s the matter?” Bucky sighed.

“Nothing–” Steve bit his words off. “I mean. Obviously something. But it’s not–” he chewed his lip, then ran a hand through his hair, making the blonde locks puff up like a cockatoo. How criminals took this guy seriously Bucky would never know.

“Aw, come on, pal,” Bucky said, yanking at the saran wrap. He rolled it over the bowl, pushing the dough back in as much as he could. He patted the plastic down. It would have to do. “Tell Uncle Buck what’s really on your mind.”

“Oh please don’t call yourself that,” Steve sighed. “Are you gonna wash your hands?”

Bucky looked up.

“Uh? Yeah?”

“Okay, good,” Steve nodded. “Do it now.”

Bucky cocked a brow. “Excuse me?”

Steve came up to Bucky’s side and took his wrists in a hand each. He guided Bucky over to the sink. “Wash. Hands.”

Steve flipped on the water.

“What are you smoking?” Bucky said, getting to the task at hand. He scrubbed at the flour and goop stuck under his nails.

“Bucky,” Steve huffed, his voice dropping. Oh. Well then.

Bucky looked at the man beside him. “Steve,” he said plainly. Steve’s eyes flicked up to his. He was standing pretty close, all jammed up beside Bucky. “Are you horny? Is lil’ Stevie randy? Is that what’s happening here?” He grinned devilishly.

Steve pouted, but his cheeks were all pink.

“I might be,” he grumbled. “Hurry up.”

“Hey, I been workin’ all day too, you know,” Bucky said. He soaped up his hands some more. “And what makes you think I’m even remotely interested?”

“I came here to ride you, you asshole,” Steve said bluntly, making Bucky’s jaw fall open in surprise. “Yeah, you’re gonna dry your hands, sit on a damn kitchen chair, and I’m gonna lube you up and sit on your magnificent cock.”

Bucky’s mouth flapped, eyes wide.

Steven,” he breathed, voice barely audible. “Hell.”

“Oh my god, why are you taking so long?” Steve huffed and pulled at the fly of his uniform pants.

Bucky pushed the faucet to off and picked up a hand towel.

Steve hopped around, trying to get out of his pants. He yanked at his ugly socks, almost falling on his ass. Bucky hurriedly dried his fingers, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

“Here, come on, before you hurt yourself.” He pulled out one of the wooden chairs he kept around the small kitchen table. They rarely ate in here, so the table was just overflowing with miscellaneous crap. A glue gun, a new set of pliers, a sheet of tape with tiny screws stuck to it. He shoved Steve into the chair.

Steve wrestled out of his work shirt.

“So,” Bucky hooked a hand around the back of Steve’s neck. “You wanna…” Bucky scooted in and sat down on Steve’s lap, his own legs bracketing what was a pretty impressive bulge in Steve’s black underwear.

Steve glared up at him. Bucky smiled.

“No,” Steve said, pushing at Bucky’s thighs. “Me ride you.”

Bucky chuckled and shifted closer, “Okay, sure, caveman. You wanna undress me? Put in some work?”

Steve glared harder, but did comply, his fingers flipping up the hem of Bucky’s shirt, getting at his jeans.

Bucky huffed when Steve’s hands were a little rough, bumping his chub. Steve tugged the jeans open. He then kneaded at Bucky’s dick with his palm.

“Oh Jeez,” Bucky gasped, already hot and ready.

Steve pushed at Bucky’s hips, so Bucky complied, awkwardly getting to his feet. Steve stood up, turning Bucky around and shoved him into the wooden chair.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky grunted, as Steve crouched down and yanked at his jeans, tugging them all the way off. “Hey, come on, slow down.” Bucky’s underwear was summarily removed from his person in one fell swoop. His butt smacked back down on the seat after Steve let him go.

“No, I need to get fucked,” Steve groused, making it sound like a chore to be checked off a list. “I been needing it all day, Buck.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, feeling a little manhandled.

Steve stood up, took off his t-shirt, stretching his arms and chest and phew!  Bucky licked his lips, taking in all that real estate. “Damn,” he uttered, already too weak for this shit. Steve’s dick was almost popping free of its confines. Bucky leaned forward and pulled them down. Steve helped, hooking his thumbs into the back of his underwear and pushing them down his smooth, pale, soft legs. The guy had barely any hair, nothing more than fuzz. What he lacked in hair he definitely made up in bulk.

“See, lifting heavy has helped, huh,” Bucky said, eyeing those thick thighs.

Steve ignored him, and pushed him back into the chair.

“We need lube,” he said.

“Um,” Bucky sucked his lips. “I think there’s some on the sofa? From last week?”

Steve sighed. He turned and marched right out of the kitchen, leaving Bucky on the seat with no pants on. He looked down at himself. “It’s okay, pal,” he said to his attention-seeking dick. He figured the t-shirt could go, though, so he pulled it over his head.

Steve stomped back in, almost-empty tube of lube in his fist.

His dick was red and angry-looking.

“Okay, okay, sit,” Bucky sighed.

Steve did as he was told and handed over the lube.

“How ‘bout you get me going,” Bucky murmured, opening the already-broken flip cap. “And I’ll open you up?”

“K, fine,” Steve grumbled.

Bucky squirted the remainder of the lube into Steve’s palm.

He sat back, got comfy and got to work.



Steve was panting for it now.

Five minutes was all it took of Bucky fingering him open gently, sliding one finger, then two into him, before Steve was sweating.

Bucky was also vibrating a little, Steve slowly rubbing both fists up and down his hard-as-hell cock. Teamwork.

“Oh God,” Bucky gasped at a particularly squelchy squeeze. “Okay, okay, now, let’s go.”

Steve grinned finally and stood up. He scooted in closer, Bucky adjusting his feet, before sliding Bucky’s dick into place.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed out hoarsely when Steve hovered, putting both hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Steve paused, then lowered himself.

He groaned deep in his chest and Bucky had to close his eyes.

Fuck, Steve was gorgeous.

The big blonde doofus was sitting on Bucky’s cock like he owned it. Which, well.

“Ohhh, yes,” Steve said deeply once he was sitting on Bucky’s thighs. “Mmmm, been wanting this all day.”

“Really?” Bucky said slowly. He felt sweat gathering at his hairline. He placed a hand on each of Steve’s hips.

“All day, Buck,” Steve groaned, shifting. He grunted, Bucky deep inside him. It felt so fucking good. “Just wanted to come home and sit on your dick. All day.”

“F-fuck,” Bucky breathed, lipping at Steve’s cheek. Steve turned and kissed with purpose, tongue playing, warm and wet inside Bucky’s mouth. He rolled his hips and Bucky gasped.

Steve wasn’t a small guy, so Bucky’s legs had to flex a little to not go numb.

And once Steve got going, lifting up and sliding down again, well.

“Unh!” Bucky grunted into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s ass smacked down on his legs. The chair shuddered beneath them. “Fuck, fuck,” Bucky chanted every time Steve slid down his cock, squeezing. “Oh God, Steve.”

Steve’s dick bobbed between them, leaking. He didn’t seem to mind.

Bucky dug his nails into Steve’s firm, round ass, those tiny hips. Steve whined into their kiss, enjoying it, clearly.

“Come on, baby, ride me,” Bucky said, licking at Steve’s lips. “Fuck yourself on me.”

The kitchen lights were highlighting the edges of Steve’s shoulder and back. Steve’s hands clasped Bucky’s face as he got up on his feet and came down hard.

“Ungh,” Bucky almost bit Steve’s lip.

Steve picked himself up again and again, just fucking Bucky senseless. If he was a little rougher than usual, Bucky didn’t mind.

“You...unh ,” Bucky said, “You gotta have-have more...unh! Bad days, babe!” his voice warbled for a second.

“I – hate bad days ,” Steve said angrily, sucking at Bucky’s tongue. “MMH!” he moaned, brows furrowing in concentration.

Steve was close, Bucky was sure of it.

So he helped this along. He rolled his hips, shifting his dick deep inside Steve. Steve shivered and moved his hands to the chair back. He slid Bucky out, then back in, aided by the lube and Bucky’s precome.

“You’re making a mess,” Bucky murmured. He could feel the wetness all over his thighs and balls.

“Shut up, you like it,” Steve smiled.

There it was.

Bucky smirked.

Steve fucked himself on Bucky for a few more moments, his breath getting shorter, quicker. It was efficient, effective. Bucky slid one hand between them and looped his fingers into a circle for Steve to fuck into as well. Steve grunted, getting pleasure from both ends and his legs started to shake.

Bucky squeezed Steve tight between his fingers and his own cock responded with a throb deep inside.

“I’m gunna…” Steve panted, going all pink in the face. “Bucky, I’m gunna–”

Bucky slicked his hand up and down Steve’s cock, his other hand flexing on Steve’s ass cheek, fingertips feeling where his cock was embedded in Steve.

“Come on, let it out,” Bucky said, aiming for cool.

Steve pressed his forehead to Bucky’s and slammed down once more, rolling his hips around like he was antsy, on edge.

His cock spurted over Bucky’s fingers and Bucky’s own cock responded in surprise.

“Oh fuck! ” Bucky grunted, hand gripping Steve’s cock tight as he too came.

He was filling Steve up, one of his favorite pastimes.

Steve shuddered and brushed his lips over Bucky’s nose and lips.

A great puddle of come had leaked over Bucky’s hand where it still held Steve.

“Ohhh, I needed that,” Steve said slowly, eyes closed.

“Y-yeah, I see,” Bucky huffed out a laugh. “You sure you’re okay?”

Steve hummed into Bucky’s cheek, curling into him. God, he felt so good, wrapped around Bucky. It was almost too good.

Steve’s ass squeezed Bucky.

“Everything makes sense again,” Steve murmured.

Bucky let Steve’s dick go, his wet hand coming up to pat at Steve’s hip. The other hand was still on Steve’s butt, where it liked to be.

“You know, if you need a quickie, you can call,” Bucky said, nuzzling at Steve’s ear. “You don’t gotta throw me down and just have your way.”

Steve sat up. He was frowning. “Oh no…”

Bucky grinned, “I’m not complaining, pal.”

“You were...busy…” Steve said. “And I bothered you.”

Bucky shifted. Steve flushed pink again, obviously feeling Bucky’s come leaking out a little. Oh boy, this was definitely something Bucky liked.

“You wanna just sit like this for a bit?” Bucky said gently.

Steve’s eyes closed for a second and he shifted. “Yeah,” he purred, falling forward to press his chest to Bucky’s. He wrapped both arms around Bucky’s neck, not unlike a squid.

“Mmf,” Bucky humphed. Sure, his legs were going to feel dead any minute. But he could wait.



"I like your buns," Nat said the next day, down at St. Paul's. "Not bad."

Bucky eyed her, tired and a little sore still. Natasha grinned around a mouthful of pulled pork slider.

"Why are you even here, you don't believe in Jesus," Bucky said.

Natasha shrugged, standing there in a cute white summer dress and sun hat. "America convinced us we should come."

Bucky shook his head. "That kid, I swear."

Natasha chewed slowly, eyes wandering.

"Why's Steve limping?" she said.

Bucky looked up and over to where the police contingent of the church affair was hanging out. 

"He's not limping," Bucky said.

He turned back to find Natasha grinning. He scowled.

"We're on church property, woman."


Chapter Text

Steve pushed at the precinct’s main doors, blinking. “Shit,” he muttered. It was dark out. How long had he been in that godforsaken meeting? Ten hours? No.

That was insane. His job was insane. He spent more time arguing with the brass than getting shit done.

He rubbed at his eyes and tugged his police hat off his head, running a hand over his newly-cut hair.

Damnit, he’d been working so hard these last few weeks, that one day he was going to blink and another perfect summer would have flown by.

He stared out over the dimly-lit main drag. The traffic was slow, but not busy.

Sam had taken the cruiser, so Steve was thinking about walking, maybe calling an uber, when his eyes caught movement on the edge of the front lot.

He smiled, and started taking long strides down the police station steps.

He walked across the front lawn, holding his hat under his arm.

There was someone leaning against a busted old blue pickup.

Someone tall, with longish dark hair and dirty jeans.

“Hey,” Steve said. Bucky looked up. Steve’s heart skipped a beat and he couldn’t help grinning. “I thought you were working late?”

“I was,” Bucky rumbled, standing up properly. “But Delaney canceled my last job. Said he was being nice, generous even.” Bucky smiled all lopsided. “But I think he had a hot date or something filthy going on. He was wearing cologne.”

Steve grinned wider and stepped up to Bucky, running his gaze down the man.

Bucky was wearing his oldest leather jacket, the one with the tall collar he liked to pull up on cold nights. It was worn soft from use and Steve loved the way Bucky looked in it.

“It’s the middle of June, Buck,” Steve smiled. He slipped his hat onto Bucky’s head.

Bucky frowned. “Ain’t that against the law?”

“What? The heat and that jacket? Or you wear a captain’s hat?”

“I could be impersonating an officer.”

Steve laughed, “Oh yeah?”

Bucky tilted his head back, the brim of the hat wobbling. “You’re under arrest, pal.”

Steve stood real close to Bucky, close enough he could smell the engine grease on him. He smiled. “Good evening, officer,” Steve murmured. “How can I help you on this fine day?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched and he busted out laughing. “No, I can’t. I can’t!

“What?” Steve stepped back, eyebrows going high. “What’s so funny?”

“I can’t play fast and loose with this kind of role-play,” Bucky said, shaking his head. He tugged the hat off and situated it on Steve’s head. He stared at Steve. “There. Better.”

Steve felt like his insides were made of melted butter.

“Goddamn you’re handsome, Barnes,” he rumbled and leaned in for a kiss.

Bucky reciprocated, bunching his fingers in Steve’s uniform jacket.

“So we’re taking the uniform home to bed?” Steve murmured against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky pushed him away. “No. Don’t even. You know that’s not fair.”

Steve laughed.

“Get in the truck,” Bucky grumbled, waving Steve off. “You should thank me for even coming to pick you up. Been waiting almost an hour already.”

“Aw, you know I have a phone, right, Buck?” Steve said.

“Yeah, except you never check your damn messages.”


“Oops,” Steve made a face, tugging his mouth wide and down at the sides like a freaked out clown. “My bad.”



“You should make dinner more often,” Steve said, packing the dishwasher.

“Why? Because your culinary skills could wipe out a generation?” Bucky snorted from the kitchen table.

Bucky had finally gotten around to retiling the kitchen and priming and painting the cabinets. It was looking sleek and modern and perfect. Nothing quite as attractive as a man who knew how to run a workshop of tools.

“No, because your stuff’s pretty healthy,” Steve said, digging under the sink for the dishwasher pellets. Bucky won the machine at the last charity auction. It was pretty sleek, actually. “My food is all fried garbage.”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed.

The doorbell rang.

Steve clacked the dial on the dishwasher and set it to run. “You expecting someone?” He turned to Bucky.

“Yep,” Bucky said, “Right on time. Follow me.”

Steve frowned. He padded after Bucky in his sneakers, sweatpants and one of Bucky’s fire station t-shirts.

Bucky got to the door and swung it wide, revealing a familiar face.

“There you are!” Kate Bishop smiled wide, her dark bangs longer than the last time Steve saw her. She had a gathering of freckles across her nose and was wearing a red and white baseball t-shirt with cropped jeans. Steve frowned.


“Hi, Steve,” she responded with a wave.

“When did you get into town?” Steve scratched at his chin. “I thought you guys were road-tripping across the Mid-West for the summer?”

She shrugged as he came in for a hug.

“We had to drop something off. Plus,” she pulled back and winked at Bucky, “we decided to head up to Nova Scotia instead, check out some good ol’ fishing towns and whatnot. Get the real lesbian holidays in early.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. A loud horn honked from the driveway.

“What the hell?” Steve tried to lean past Bucky.

Bucky sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

He grabbed at Steve’s hand and tugged him outdoors.

It was dark, the only light coming from Bucky’s garage spotlight.

“Hey! Hi guys!” America Chavez waved from the window of what looked to be a pickup truck dragged right out of the nineties. It was a bright plum red with a rusted hood and oddly bent windscreen wipers.

“You got a car?” Steve quirked a brow. “I don’t think I need the tour. Hey, how’d you get a car?”

“Won it in a bet,” America said, clambering out. Her long legs were covered by jeans that didn’t quite meet her ankles and some mismatched sneakers with paint all over them. “Some punk-ass frat bros thought that going to Brown made them smarter than this hooked up poker-pro. They don’t ever think my abuela taught me how to work it.”

“Are you gambling on campus now?” Steve stared her, then at Bucky.

Bucky didn’t seemed bothered by America’s shrug.

“I thought you switching to Brown was going to up your game?” Bucky said instead. “You said the Chicago kids were dumbasses too.”

“They’re all dumbass white boys with too much crap to lose,” America said. She patted her truck with a firm hand. “But I liked this girl. She’s got pep.” If Steve was honest, he’d say the truck wasn’t much of a win. But then again, he didn’t get the attraction.

Steve was about to say something more, when something else caught his eye.

Bucky pulled him round to the side of the truck.

“Oh yeah, delivery,” America said. “We hauled it from Illinois, I’ll have you know.”

There was a large shape in the bed of the truck, covered by a tarp. Something was sticking out. A handlebar?

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked at him with those light eyes of his and … he was holding back a smile. Steve blinked.

“Bucky, what is this?”

“An early birthday present,” Bucky said.”Have a look.”

Steve eyed him warily for a second. “I thought we didn’t do gifts?”

“That’s lame,” Kate said from somewhere behind them.

“Go on,” Bucky said, elbowing Steve.

So Steve reached up and pulled at the elasticated hooks holding the tarp in place. The plastic made a lot of noise as he scrunched it back.

More handlebar was revealed to him, then, a glossy black curve of metal and some leather.

“Oh my God,” Steve exhaled slowly. “Holy shit, Buck.”

There on the truck bed lay what looked to be an almost brand new Harley Davidson motorcycle. It had a sleek black fuel tank cover and all-black leather seating, with comfortably angled handlebars and big fat tires.

“It’s not new, or anything,” Bucky scratched at his chin, “but I got my guys to find new parts. I got a friend in Chicago to fix her up nicely. Should run like a dream.”

“This is for me?” Steve breathed out.

Bucky glanced at him from under his brows. “Yeah. I know it’s been … a while, since you rode, but I know you were talking about getting back into it soon. So, you know…” he shrugged awkwardly, cheeks pink.

He was right. Steve had held off on looking for a new vehicle for well over two years. Partly because it was a cost he couldn’t handle right now, but also because the thought of sliding around on the road still gave him night sweats. He’d loved his old bike. The remains that had been used in the trial against Fisk looked beyond salvageable scrap metal by the time he testified.

He did miss it.

And he had planned on looking for something soon. But a Harley?

“Wow,” Steve said, running a hand over the bike. “This is beautiful.” He turned to Bucky and leaned in to press his lips to Bucky’s. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Bucky grumbled something about the kids watching but that just made Steve smile wider.

“You wanna help me get her down?” Bucky grunted, clearing his throat.

“Sure, if you think we can handle it.”

“Hey, we got it up there, so y’all can get it down. I’m not dropping that on my foot,” America said.

Both Steve and Bucky did eventually get it down onto the road, where Steve could prop it up and have a seat.

“Well?” Bucky said, closing up the truck bed gate. He snapped the lock in place and leaned against the truck.

Steve sat astride the beast of a machine, his legs extended down, feet flat. “It’s perfect,” he murmured, pulling at the handles, looking over the dials. Shit, it was beautiful.

“Thanks, Buck,” he said, looking up at Bucky. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh God!” Bucky groaned and covered his face.

America cawed loudly and slapped a high five at Kate’s already extended hand. “Pay up, old man!”

Steve frowned and watched Bucky pull out his wallet from his back pocket. He unrolled a crisp twenty and handed it to Kate, who passed it to America. “Um, what?”

Bucky got to his feet and strolled closer to Steve. “She made a bet you’d say that. I said that you’d be grateful and that’s it.”

“Huh,” Steve pursed his lips. “Shows what you know.”

“Right?” Bucky chuckled.



They took his bike out for a spin on the following Sunday, when Steve booked time off.

Bucky hated sitting backseat to the monstrous machine, but after a few kisses and pokes and prods, Steve was able to convince him it would be quicker and easier to zip up the coast with just one vehicle.

Bucky had relented and wasn’t surprised to find Steve had already purchased new helmets for both of them.

Bucky had never actually ridden with Steve before, which seemed absurd considering how long they’d been together, but he was open to new experiences.

Steve insisted he dress up warm because ‘the wind can blister you, pal,’ and ‘it’s just safer’.

But Bucky wasn’t stupid.

He knew that look in Steve’s eyes. The one where he would slide his gaze up and down Bucky’s leather jackets and over his tight fuckin’ jeans, right down to his big boots.

Steve had such a thing for the biker look, it was absurd. It’s not even like Bucky was a hardened gang member with tattoos and guns and knives and a motive to kill.

Nah, Steve just liked to imagine it.

He was a very transparent individual.

So Bucky relented and got on the bike with Steve.

He hated the way his heart freaked out a little when they got going. Bucky wouldn’t have any control over this driving situation.

“Hey, hold on,” Steve said, revving the engine, feet still firmly planted on the ground.

Bucky did as he was told, situated his feet in the correct spots, and wrapped his arms around Steve.

“You good?” Steve’s muffled voice came back.

“Yeah,” Bucky grunted, and then they were off.

Steve was good on a bike. He knew how to work the machine the same way Bucky could manoeuvre a four ton truck.

They wove through traffic, the noise of the engine and all the other cars blaring around them.

If Bucky had to be honest, he’d say it wasn’t all fun, but he got the idea.

Steve drove them north, along the highway and up the coast.

It was a beautiful clear day with blue skies as far as the eye could see.

They took the 95 all the way to Providence, where Steve pulled up to a little diner he said he recalled visiting years before.

The food was simple and greasy and nothing too fancy. Why would it be? The whole east coast was such a massive piece of the same shit that Bucky didn’t even blink at anything out of place.

They spent a couple hours wandering around Providence, picking up a few tools at the local hardware.

“Really? Don’t you have enough screwdrivers?” Steve cocked a brow at Bucky’s purchase.

“Hey, these are Robertsons,” Bucky said, tucking his plastic bag inside his jacket and zipping it up. “We never have any in Brooklyn, always sold out.”

“Sure, sure,” Steve chuckled. He looked out over the small riverside portion of the city. Bucky watched him with keen eyes. Steve looked good. Healthy. The sun had made his short hair lighter and though he didn’t tan, his cheeks were pink and he just glowed. His long legs leaned him against the bike, like some cut-out from an old tourism guide from the sixties. The scar along his jaw was faded to an almost white-pink and the scar behind his left ear, well, it had healed better than either of them would have expected. Steve had lost a chunk of hair on that side, but what were a few hairs compared to a severe head injury?

Bucky stepped up to Steve and looked out at the glistening water and the crowds of people milling around below.

“This was a good idea,” he murmured, nudging Steve’s foot with his boot.

Steve nodded. “Thanks for the bike.” He turned to grin at Bucky, while squinting through the midday sun.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You’re welcome, punk.”

“Hey,” Steve stood up. “You used to call me that when we were kids.”

Bucky frowned. “I did?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah. I mean, obviously we didn’t hang out much, seeing as you were in the big kids crew, but yeah. You kept calling me ‘punk’. It was…kinda weird.”

“Huh,” Bucky tried to think back.

When they were kids, Steve had been this runt of a kid, all sticks and stones and a flop of blond hair that always got in his eyes.

“I got this distinct memory of you,” he said out loud.

“Oh yeah?” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured. “You were maybe, like, nine years old? Fuckin’ tiny kid. And you, I dunno if you remember this, but you went missing, or somethin’. We had this ratty group of kids roaming the streets looking for you. I can’t remember why. Anyway, I just have this visual,” Bucky splayed his fingers as if he were holding a rock towards his face. “This visual of Mr. McEntyre hauling your ass back to the playground just down from the convenience store, you remember that place?”

Steve smiled, “The grimy metal slide that used to burn all our asses in summer? Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Bucky grinned. “So we’re all standing around and McEntyre comes round the corner, holding you up by the scruff of your shirt and you’re kicking and hollerin’ like a complete loon.”

“Uh huh.”

Bucky smiled wider. “I just remember being like, ‘what?’. ‘Cos then he said he found you up on some guy's garage pouring dirty engine grease and manure over a pile of lumber, or something.” He turned to squint at Steve. “Because, of course, you weren’t missing. You’d run off to wreak havoc on some dude’s day job or somethin’.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve smiled and stared up at the sky, as if recalling a fond memory. “I remember now. That guy was stealing wood from local fences round the neighbourhood. I saw him knocking out the nails and dragging the lumber to his yard and reselling it back to folks, like a right fuckin’ asshole.”

“Really?” Bucky stared at him. “So you what? Poured oil on it all?”

Steve shrugged, “I figured it’d make the wood unsellable.”

Bucky watched Steve for a few more seconds. “You really were a punk-ass son of a gun, huh?”

Steve grinned wide, clearly beyond proud of himself. 



The ride home was gentler. The traffic had petered out and the rumble of the Harley was a nice buzz inside Bucky’s bones. By the time they rolled up to Steve’s place, the whole neighbourhood was settled into twilight.

“Where are the kids?” Steve asked as he let the engine rumble to a stop. Bucky climbed off the bike and stretched his arms and legs.

“Dunno; Probably drinking and having an orgy somewhere in the woods.”

Steve stared at him. Bucky busted out laughing at the look on his face. “They’re at Teddy’s ma’s place watching old movies.”

Steve shook his head and took Bucky’s helmet from him. They went inside and Steve locked up the helmets in his front closet. “You hungry?” he asked as Bucky untied his own boots.

“Nah, still full from those sausages and hash.”

“Hmm,” Steve nodded.

He turned and watched Bucky kick his boots under the tiny bench Steve had at the front door. “I had fun today,” he murmured.

Bucky looked up. “Yeah, me too. My ass is numb, though.” He got up and winced. “My back too.”

Steve made a face. “Well, I can give you a back massage if you like? You know we had that free session with the crew.”

“Please do not tell me about the grunts on your squad feeling and rubbing each other up. I may never eat again.”

Steve snorted. “You know it wasn’t like that. We learned about muscular issues and how to reset dislocated shoulders and stuff.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky groaned and tugged off his jacket. Steve hung it up in the closet along with his own brown leather jacket. He eyed the stuffed closet.

Bucky stretched and twisted at the waist, trying to unseat the knot in his lower back. He hated how messed up his body was getting with age.

“Okay, fine,” He sighed, relaxing.

Steve turned to him.

“I’ll let you massage me. Just let me get a shower first. I feel like a fried egg on asphalt.”

“Okay,” Steve smiled. “I’ll meet you upstairs. Just gotta tidy up.”




Bucky had a slow, super-boiling shower. He let the water scrape off the dry dirt that had accumulated in his pores and he washed out the sweat in his hair from being inside a claustrophobic helmet all day. Steve was right of course, the wind had been rough on his hands, so good thing he’d dressed up.

He dried off and combed back his hair. Some of his stuff had made its way into Steve’s bathroom. To be expected, really. He had a toothbrush, comb, hair ties and a shaving kit sitting on the opposite side of the sink to Steve’s own grooming tools.

He rubbed at his cheeks, wondering if he should shave, then waved the thought off. Steve loved the way his beard would burn all over. So be it. He wandered out of the bathroom and found Steve sitting on his bed, a towel laid out over the blue covers.

Bucky still had a tiny inclination to cover himself, tugging at the towel around his waist. He wondered if that sense of shame would ever really go away around Steve. He hoped so. They’d come a very, very long way.

“Hey,” Steve smiled. He held up two bottles. “I found some oils to help this along. How’s your back feeling?”

Bucky peered at the bottles. “Are they sex oils?”

Steve almost choked on a laugh. “What? No, but please do tell me what ‘sex oils’ are, though.”

Bucky scowled and came round the bed slowly. “Those oils people use to pretend it’s a massage, but then they start shoving it all up inside each other and then it’s, like, BAM, sex oil.”

Steve grinned. He read the label on one. “Well, this one is completely hypoallergenic. Says it’s good for all parts of the body. Organic.” He read over the other label. “Hmm, this one’s got lavender in it, so it’s probably not good for that.”

“Use that one, then,” Bucky huffed and fell face-down on the bed.

Steve chortled. “You want to waylay my evil intentions right off the bat, huh? You sure you wanna smell like lavender for a week?”

Bucky thought about that. “No,” he grunted into the bedspread. He turned his head to scowl at Steve. “Use the sex oil, then.”

Steve laughed and poked at Bucky’s side. “All right, jeez.” He poked and prodded Bucky until he was nicely situated on the bed.

“You good?” Steve said before clambering up to straddle Bucky’s legs.

Bucky heard a cap pop and wriggled a little. He hadn’t ever really had a massage before.

“So I’m gonna go slow, try to get the stiffness out, okay? I’m not a pro at this, so if anything hurts, you tell me, got it?”

“Yup,” Bucky said. He felt a hand push at his hair, wiping it to one side and off his back.

Then Steve got to work. He pressed the heels of both palms down Bucky’s spine and back up again.

Oh, that felt…different.

“Damn, you’re tense right here,” Steve pressed into the spot right between Bucky’s shoulder blades.

Bucky grunted at the pressure.

Steve’s fingers pushed and pulled and massaged their way across Bucky’s shoulders and up his neck. He felt goosebumps come to life and he shivered. Steve pushed at Bucky’s muscles, kneading them gently, coaxing them to relax, to release their tension.

“You gotta relax more, Buck,” Steve said gently.

He had such nice big hands. Bucky definitely had a thing for Steve’s hands. They were oversized and he had long fingers with really knobbly knuckles. Bucky’s hands felt like chunky chicken tenders beside them.

Steve rubbed his thumbs into the knots under Bucky’s skin and Bucky groaned.

“That okay?” Steve paused.

“Mmmhm,” Bucky hummed into a pillow. “’S Good.”

Steve added more oil to the mix and kept going. It felt like waves of tension were just rolling off Bucky and down his arms, to his fingers and off into space. Steve shifted lower, his palms edging the pressure away from Bucky’s spine and out to his flanks.

Steve spent a good chunk of time just massaging Bucky’s sides, his lower back. He dug his thumbs into the divots there, and pressed, making Bucky shift.

His dick was definitely fattening up beneath him. Bucky grunted when Steve shifted again and pulled at the towel stuck under Bucky.

“C’mon, pal,” Steve said. He patted Bucky’s ass through the towel. “This part could do with it too.”

“You just wanna feel me up,” Bucky complained, but did relent, lifting one hip so Steve could unravel the towel and push it aside.

“All day, every day. Nothing changes,” Steve chuckled.

Bucky felt exposed, his ass just out there. Why this was any different to their usual sex routine, he couldn’t tell. They had fucked enough times by now that most positions, most rooms in both their houses were defiled and filled with dirty, filthy, wonderful memories.

“Mm mm!” Steve humphed loudly.

“What?” Bucky slurred into the pillow. He could feel Steve’s gentle fingers running over his ass.

“Fine one you got here,” Steve said. He rolled his fingers and pressed his knuckles into the meat of Bucky’s asscheeks.

Bucky grunted.

Steve hummed and spread some more oil over Bucky before massaging with the heel of both palms and then his fingers again.

It felt magical, really.

Bucky loved it.

Why had he never let Steve do this to him before? He was such a dumbass. He let Steve suck his cock and lick him all over but he'd never really let him grope his ass for any extended period of time.

He tried to shift, to alleviate the pressure on his cock by opening his legs a little. Steve lifted up, giving him some room. Bucky knew he was blushing but he didn’t care. Whatever. So he let a hot guy rub his ass some. Who cared?

It was Steve. That’s why it didn’t matter. Steve actually seemed pretty intent on the massage portion of the evening. He wrung Bucky out, pushing all the knots into nothingness and made a right old mess of Bucky and the bedsheets.

Bucky felt Steve shift around some. Clothing rustled.

Then Steve’s weight was back. His voice was right behind Bucky’s ear, which meant he was probably holding himself up and leaning over.

“How you feeling?” Steve purred, deep and loud in Bucky’s bones.

“Amazing,” Bucky answered. Steve wiped at a few stray hairs that had got caught around Bucky’s eyelashes.

“Mind if I join in now?” Steve purred some more.

Bucky felt those amazing pecs against his back, and the weight of Steve’s hips pressed into his ass.

“Fuck, yes,” Bucky  growled and twisted around. He felt more flexible, softer and harder all at once.

Steve let him roll, then came back down so he was face-to-face with Bucky.

“That good, huh?” He smiled and looked down at Bucky’s cock, which was leaking for attention.

“You got any of that sex oil left?” Bucky grumbled, hands going immediately to Steve’s tits.

“Mmm,” Steve smiled wide. “I think I just might.”

Bucky watched Steve pour some oil into one hand before rubbing said hand over his own chest. Bucky’s eyes widened and he pushed the hand away, intent on spreading that oil himself. He took both hands and wiped the smooth liquid over each pec, making sure to squeeze and rub and massage it all in. It made Steve’s tits shine and look extra perky.

“Jesus,” Bucky said, concentrating hard enough to split atoms. “Your tits are amazing.”

Steve sighed, “Yeah, so you keep saying.”

“Aw, don’t sound so hard up, pal,” Bucky grinned and massaged Steve some more. “It’s not your fault you’re built like a pretty busty lady.”

Steve’s cheeks went pink, just the way they always did when Bucky went overboard with the tit talk. Bucky loved tweaking Steve’s pink nipples too. They were slipping and sliding so nicely now. He chewed his lip in concentration. He let his hands slide down Steve’s torso, keeping an eye on Steve’s arms that were holding him up and away from Bucky. He’d give them a rest in a second. For now, he wanted to play.

“This oil business ain’t so bad,” he purred, rubbing his palm directly down Steve’s muscled stomach, through the hair down below.

Steve’s breath caught when Bucky tugged at Steve’s underwear. At some point Steve must have wriggled out of his pants and Bucky’d been none the wiser. Efficiency, that’s what that was.

“Can you please,” Bucky hissed through his teeth, “Get your dick out?”

Steve laughed, bright and sharp. He complied by sitting up and hooking his thumbs in his underwear, then rolled around like a loose grapefruit and flung them across the room.

He came crawling back to Bucky, his pecs shiny and pink and his cock at full alert.

“What do you want me to do?” Steve huffed heavily into Bucky’s mouth. They kissed, tongues tasting and breath mingling. It was amazing every time.

Bucky squeezed Steve to him, enjoying the weird slip and slide of their chests.

“I want you to stick that hard cock of yours inside me,” Bucky growled and nipped at Steve’s lip.

Steve let out a broken gasp and rubbed his hips into Bucky. They writhed around for a bit before Steve got his wits again. He pulled back, gasping in the darkness of their room. He reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp, casting himself in a warm glow. “How?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, uncaring. “However.” He was soft and pliable after getting all the soreness squeezed out of him. He was like a fat juicy orange that’s had its pulp mushed.

Steve exhaled through his nose then leaned over Bucky again for a kiss. “Like this.”

“Okay,” Bucky nipped back.

Steve was good to Bucky. He was slow and gentle, knowing Bucky wasn’t always down for bottoming. So he took his time, spreading lots of lube in and around Bucky’s ass. It wasn’t easy, but Steve had the dedication and the know-how to get the job done right.

“Oh jeez,” Bucky gasped at two fingers.

Steve paused. He was half covered in oil and soft pink and pale skin all over. Beside Bucky’s deep summer tan and even deeper tan lines they made quite the pair. Steve hadn’t quite convinced Bucky to start wearing speedos to the community pool yet, but Bucky had to admit, the shorts tan lines were making his junk look a little jacked up right now in the heat of the moment.

Steve shifted down and slipped Bucky’s dick into his mouth as he massaged his fingers inside Bucky. It was fuckin obscene.

Bucky loved it. He tilted his hips and moaned into the sensation. No one could peel him apart the way Steve could. Somehow Steve knew just where to press and how to suck and Bucky was too close to coming. He shifted away from that evil set of lips.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he gasped. “You’re gonna make me come too quick.”

Steve licked his lips and smiled. He gently pulled his fingers free and crawled back up to Bucky’s face.

“Now?” he purred, his dick gently tapping, head kissing at Bucky’s hip.

“Um, yes?” Bucky said, exasperated.

Steve grinned.

He wiggled around for a second, trying to find room between Bucky’s massive thighs. Bucky’s fat dick twitched against his belly the second Steve’s cock found its mark. Steve eased in slowly and Bucky’s brain lit up in a shower of sparks.

“Oh, baby…” Bucky exhaled shakily. “Fuck, yes.”

Steve was gentle with him, slowly pushing into Bucky with his frankly oversized dick. How the guy figured out a way to use it without splitting people in two was a damn miracle. Seemed it was a good hefty size for Bucky, though. He wasn’t much of a bottom. Steve was way better at taking cock, but Bucky didn’t mind it so much anymore. Steve always did him right and he stopped looking at it as a transaction. Bucky knew he didn’t have to bend over for Steve, but he was learning he liked it more than anticipated.

Like right now, the way Steve would slide in, all loose and slick and just settle there, content.

“You gotta move,” Bucky grunted.

“I know,” Steve hummed, kissing at Bucky’s jaw. “I will.”

He did, after a few seconds, sliding out nice and slow before gently easing back in. It felt…weird, sometimes. Full, but in a completely interesting way.

Bucky’s breath hitched as the head of Steve’s cock scraped against his prostate.

“Uh huh?” Steve breathed out, speeding up.

“Y-yeah,” Bucky nodded.

Steve smiled and fucked into Bucky like he had all the time in the world. Bucky shifted around. Steve’s hand made its way to Bucky’s dick. Bucky stiffened.

“Too much?” Steve asked, sliding in slower.

“No,” Bucky said. “Just surprised me.”

Steve laughed. “You’re surprised I might give you a handy while we’re naked in bed together?”

“Sh-shut up,” Bucky grunted. He pulled at Steve’s shoulders. “Just fuck me, you idiot.”

Steve smiled genially and let go of Bucky’s dick.

He did as he was told and fucked Bucky just the way he wanted. They gasped and breathed together. Bucky’s language got dirtier the closer he got to climax and Steve was turned on even more by that.

“You like me deep inside you?” Steve gasped, shunting his hips forward.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky gasped back. “I love your titties in my face while you fuck me.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve whined and the wet, slick slide of his dick was audible in the space between them.

Bucky rolled them, suddenly tipping Steve to the side like a ragdoll. He settled his entire weight onto Steve, Steve’s cock buried deep inside him. Steve’s eyes widened as Bucky rolled his own ass over Steve’s cock, bringing them both closer. 

Bucky pressed a palm to each of Steve’s pecs and smiled. “This a bit much?” he asked, breath rough as he fucked himself onto Steve.

“N-no,” Steve exhaled, eyes wide. He watched Bucky shift forward and back, pleasuring himself on Steve’s dick like it was just a toy to be played with. He was big and the oil spread haphazardly over his torso gleamed and highlighted every bulge of muscle, every divot in his anatomy. He was so solid, so beautiful, it made Steve’s breath catch in his throat.

“Uh!” Bucky gasped suddenly and scowled, going stiff. Steve knew that look. He grabbed for Bucky’s cock and squeezed, hard.

Bucky shuddered, his ass clenching around Steve and he came, hot come dribbling all over Steve’s fingers. Steve’s heart thudded and he could feel all his blood rushing south before he too was coming just as Bucky was heaving himself up and off.

His come made a mess of Bucky’s ass and they both collapsed together onto the bed.

They laid there for a few minutes, dazed, twitching and out of breath.

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat. “That went well.”

Bucky exhaled and inhaled slowly, face buried in Steve’s neck.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” he muttered deeply. Steve chuckled.

“Actually, you jerk, I didn’t. I just wanted to help you relieve stress. My intentions were pure and honourable.”

Bucky got up on one elbow and glared down at Steve through his mess of hair. “You’re a fuckin’ liar.”

Steve laughed. “I’m not! I swear. You’re the one that got all horny just from a simple back massage.”

“Right,” Bucky huffed and pushed his hair off his face like some swimsuit model posing on a slab of rock out in the middle of the Aegean Sea. His every muscle rippled and Steve was almost envious of the bulk of him. “So that wasn’t your hard dick pressing into my asscrack the whole time you were ‘massaging’ me?”

Steve pouted. “How dare you besmirch the innocence, the dignity of my manhood.”

That made Bucky bust out laughing.

At least Steve had that going for him. He might be able to make the great Bucky Barnes come until he goes blind, but at the very least, he’s happy to make him laugh as well.