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Ain't no sleeping till they're done

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It took Steve a moment to recognize that the owl hoot that had just disrupted his reading had actually been his phone.

 

And then he allowed himself a small smile, because the really outlandish chimes all meant a message from Bucky in one way or another.

 

It takes some scrolling through all the other notifications to find Bucky’s text:

 

I think I know the answer, but I still have to ask: can I crash on your couch? Just for a night or two?

 

Steve had taken so long, the app already displayed an additional text:

 

I am willing to bargain. A case can be made for me to bring along some food from the pizza joint around my corner.

 

Steve had to smile. Bucky wouldn’t have to ask at the best of times. So in return Steve typed the first thing that came to mind:

 

Why are you asking?

 

Realizing only too late that it probably was not the straight forward answer Bucky might want.

 

I mean: sure.

 

And then again:

 

But why are you asking?

 

The answer was a voice message and it took a moment to load.

 

It started of with… noise. A voice and a beat. Probably music. That actually got turned down relatively quick.

 

“Now, Rogers, if you are wondering why I am calling you from a club, I actually ain’t doing any of that. You just witnessed acoustic warfare. Because in 4… 3… 2… Hear that? Almost sounds like a techno party, doesn't it? In case you think some music can get the best of me, you are actually mistaken. The bass, which even this shitty phone has to pick up, is actually only the icing of the cake. Let’s wait another few seconds. There you go. Heard that? That was people sanding a wall. The other side of the wall located right beside my bed, to be more precise. They are doing that a few centimeters a time, with irregular intervals in between. And yes, I know I withstood greater torture. So before you tell me to get a coffee, let me take you to my kitchen. Or more precise out of my kitchen window. BECAUSE ALL OF THAT CLANGING AND BANGING THAT MIGHT PUT A DUBSTEP FESTIVAL TO SHAME has just turned into my new normal. Which is why I will record the rest of this voice mail from inside of that heavy oak closet even we had trouble hauling up here, because this is the only place where I have a chance of even catching my own thoughts. They are overhauling a few apartments around here, Steve. SINCE TWO WEEKS. And I don’t care what normal people think about reasonable hours. Eight A.M.IS TOO FUCKING EARLY. I have urges, Steve. I want them to stop. And since two days I have those fantasies. I mean, we both know I have the means to stop them. I just need a place to sleep in, Stevie. Please? You might actually be saving lives here…”

 

And Steve did not even bother to suppress a smile.

 

Bucky didn’t need sleep any more then Steve did. It was just that Bucky liked sleep. And to sleep in. Probably partly because of the trouble to fall asleep in the first place.

 

And while Captain America probably should have said something about the thinly veiled threat about murdering people, Steve loved it when Bucky was able to say something self-deprecating.

 

It was the kind of easy banter they still lacked most times they were actually in the same room. But, well, baby steps. And Steve had learned to take what he could get. So he hit the little dial button and before Bucky had any chance to form a sentence, Steve flat out asked him, whether or not his closet actually had reception.

 

“Careful, Rogers, the jury is still out on whether or not I like you today.”

 

Steve really didn’t bother to suppress his amusement. “You’re being overly dramatic and you know it. Pack a duffel bag with what ever you might need. I’ll pick you up in 15, at that coffee shop beside the pizza joint you mentioned. We are going to get some coffee into you, till you feel comfortable with only three sets of knives hidden around your body. Then you offered pizza. We can even get you some of that mango ice that’s practically cast into those terracotta pots. And you can hack away at that till you’re fantasies are dulled. Then I have a nice little guest bedroom with your name to it. And if you ask really nicely, Nat might even agree to set up booby traps and some other surprises around your apartment, just because.”

 

Steve somehow still felt like he was overreaching himself. But Bucky sounded so whole heartedly relieved, Steve decided to pick a different time to worry about that matter.