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Steve face-plants into bed beside Bucky at 3:47 am. He’s only managed to get half out of his uniform, and there’s dried blood caked in his hair. Bucky feels around on his head, just to make sure the blood’s nothing serious, and then settles back down, letting Steve snuggle into his neck.

“Alright?” Bucky whispers.

Steve grunts. “Lost my phone earlier today.”

“Hmm. Stark tracking it?”

“Not my SHIELD phone. Just my personal phone.” Steve burrows further into Bucky, yawning. “I can track it on the laptop.”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky murmurs, already slipping back into sleep now that Steve’s warm and heavy beside him.

“Tomorrow,” Steve agrees.


“I turned on the GPS tracking and it’s not showing anything,” Steve explains to Tony. “Does that mean it’s turned off?”

“Turned off, dead, yeah.” Tony shrugs. “I’ll set up an alert, in case it comes back on. But it’s probably gone forever. Most likely the person who took it’s going to jail-break it and use it, so all the data’s going to be wiped once they do—you’re welcome, world, for protecting your identities from phone thieves—but there was nothing classified on there, right?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just my personal phone. Had all my music and pictures on it, though,” he adds, chagrined.

“Well, you backed it up to your internet storage, didn’t you?” Tony’s voice is already laced with judgment.

Yes,” Steve rolls his eyes. “But I had some new stuff on there I hadn’t backed up yet.”

“Oh, come on, how many pictures of the American flag do you really need?”

Steve flips Tony off as he leaves the lab and Tony blows him a kiss in return. Not even half an hour later, a Stark Industries intern brings Steve a new phone for personal use, without all the thumbprint scanners and encryption security devices they use on their Avengers phones, and he thanks her and mostly forgets about losing his old one, except when he can’t remember the name or any of the lyrics to that new song he found and wants to listen to again.

Two weeks later, he remembers about his old phone. Oh, does he ever.

“Our top story tonight is the anonymous data uploaded to the social media site reddit claiming to be from one of the Avengers’ phones,” the newscaster tells the camera with a raised eyebrow. “So far it’s not entirely clear which Avenger the phone belongs to, but from the content of the phone it seems pretty plausible it’s really one of the heroes.”

“Ah, man,” Steve groans. Bucky turns up the volume and shoots Steve a sympathetic glance as pictures Steve recognizes—because he took them—start popping up on the screen.

Everyone gathered around in party hats for Sam’s birthday. Tony and Pepper slow dancing in the lab. Bruce in the lotus pose, balancing a glass of water on his head, eyes closed but smile wide. Clint and Natasha doing some kind of acrobat move that involves Natasha balancing effortlessly on one leg on one of Clint’s outstretched arms. Thor playing whiffle ball with Mjolnir as a bat, his head tipped back as he laughs. Rhodey and Darcy swing dancing. Sam, Bucky, and Natasha, their faces pressed together and their tongues out from a time they’d stolen Steve’s phone and taken about fourteen selfies. Clint and Bucky having a shooting competition down at the range, and then Bucky triumphantly grinning and holding up his score sheet with Clint mock-glaring in the background. Peggy and Sharon making the exact same face, the only difference the wrinkles lining Peggy's. Jane and Tony arguing over something, both in lab coats, with Bruce edging out the door.

“Speculation is heavy that this is Captain America’s phone,” the host goes on. “For one, most people believe none of the other Avengers would lose their phone—”

“Excuse you,” Bucky mutters, offended on Steve’s behalf.

“But mostly because of all the pictures of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes.”

They slide up one by one. Steve and Bucky frowning grumpily at a Yankees sign. Bucky walking on a wooded path, looking over his shoulder to smile softly at the camera. Steve and Bucky wearing goofy 2016 glasses on New Year’s Eve. Steve and Bucky posing in front of the Howling Commandos monument. Bucky sticking his finger up statue-Morita’s nose. Steve and Bucky playing with a puppy, laughing as it licks Bucky’s face. Steve and Bucky arm-wrestling. Steve and Bucky wearing matching Disneyland mouse ears, pressing their faces close together.

“There are already websites devoted to memorializing the pictures, as well as the songs on the phone. The playlists have been made available on multiple song-sharing sites.”

“Well, at least those artists will get some more exposure,” Steve tries to see the bright side.

“Most shocking, however, are the text message conversations on the phone.”

Steve feels his whole body freeze. His private photos are one thing; he uploads a lot of them to his official Instagram account, anyway, and they’re all harmless. But everyone reading his texts?

“What the fuck,” Bucky spits. “I want to find whoever leaked this and give ‘em a piece of my mind. That’s your privacy.”

“I know.” Steve swallows hard. “Yours, too, Buck. Everyone who talked to me. God, I’m such a putz. I should’ve kept better track of my phone.”

“This isn’t your fault!” Bucky turns on him as the reporter starts reading a text conversation Steve had with Sam about whether couscous is rice or pasta. “This is whatever clown found—stole—your phone and thought, hey, I’ll make a quick buck off this.”

Steve rubs at his forehead. “It still wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t lost my phone.”

Steve’s new phone buzzes with a text from Sam. Man, good thing no one saw our quinoa conversation. Shit could get wild.

“If this really is Captain Rogers’s phone, the question many people have been asking for decades resurfaces: just what is the nature of the relationship between Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, boy,” Bucky breathes.

“The many pictures, including some of Sergeant Barnes half-clothed, seem to suggest a closer relationship than friends, and there is certainly an interesting thread of text messages between the owner of the phone and a contact listed solely as Jerk.”

“Shit,” Steve bites out. “Shitting fuck.”

“‘Gonna be awake when I get home?’ Reads one from the owner of the phone, and the contact Jerk replied, ‘Course I will I got plans for you. You been gone three days and I’m gonna bust.’” The reporter raises her eyebrows. “Certainly seems sexual in nature.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky growls at the TV.

Steve’s phone buzzes again. Whoa whoa whoa this is messed up, they shouldn’t be releasing this. Sam again.

“The anonymous poster who uploaded the pictures and screenshots of the text messages promised to upload more tomorrow, including some text messages that the poster promises, and I quote, ‘will blow the world away—no one will look at Captain America the same ever again.’”

“Steve.” Bucky suddenly sounds urgent, not just pissed, and Steve looks over to see he’s gone pale.

“What?” Steve asks, and takes one second to think about what Bucky could be freaking out over before he realizes what it has to be. “Hell.”

“Oh my fuck, Steve.” Bucky covers his mouth with a hand. “We gotta see if there’s anything Stark can do.”

“Yeah,” Steve’s voice comes out half-dazed, and that’s exactly how he feels.

“This is gonna ruin you,” Bucky murmurs, breath starting to come fast. “People are gonna be saying so much shit, Steve, no, this is my fault—”

“In what world is this your fault?” Steve interrupts. “I lost my phone and some asshole put stuff on the internet. Nothing about this is your fault.”

“But Steve, those texts, those pictures…that was all my idea, you never would’ve done that if I hadn’t asked.”

“Buck, this is not your fault.” Steve turns so he can put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and force Bucky to look into his eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought of it, maybe, sure, but I wasn’t exactly saying no or getting shy. You had a rough night and you needed me and I was perfectly happy to give you anything.”

“Let’s go talk to Stark.”

Pepper’s already in the elevator when they get there, apparently on her way up to see them. Steve winces when the doors open to reveal her.

“Pepper, I’m so sorry, I should have—”

She holds up a hand and he stops. “Steve, this is not your fault. This is an invasion of your privacy, as well as defamation of character by those news sources for linking your name to this with no proof more than pictures of the rest of the Avengers. We’re going to find out who posted this, and we are going to ruin them.”

“We need to talk to Tony,” Bucky mumbles, staring at his shoes. “To see if there’s any way to…stop the person from posting more.”

Pepper looks at both of them for a long minute, long enough that the elevator gets down to the lab and the doors open. Tony’s expecting them, apparently, because he’s standing just outside the doors with his hands on his hips.

“Why don’t we go in with Tony and talk about this,” Pepper suggests. They follow her meekly, feeling like scolded little boys again. Steve hates the way Bucky hangs his head so his hair covers his face, his shoulders hunched in shame.

“Tony,” Pepper starts. “How close are you to identifying the source?”

“Some data encryption, some proxy servers, internet café, you know.” Tony waves a hand. “It might be a day.”

“Can it be faster than a day?” Steve asks seriously. Tony raises an eyebrow.


“We need to stop that person from posting some…things.” Steve can feel himself blushing but doesn’t let it stop him.

“Some things,” Tony repeats slowly. “Even if we find them, getting a cease and desist would take longer than it would take for them to post whatever bombshell you’re apparently hiding. Plus this person was smart enough to get through the password on your phone and make it hard to track them down; I’m positive they’ve already got screenshots of whatever incriminating information you’re worried about and even if I get the phone back, they’ll still have that.”

“Shit,” Bucky says clearly. “This is so bad.”

“Hey, Steve, was it really your phone?” Clint asks from behind them, where they hadn’t noticed him and Natasha come in the lab. Steve nods, still watching the mounting panic on Bucky’s face.

“How long until we know who did this?” Natasha asks, voice hard. There’s no way anyone will be able to tell that the blocked number texting Steve cat videos and emojis is Natasha, but she doesn’t take kindly to threats to her privacy or people invading her friends’ space, either.

“Don’t worry, we will tear this person apart when we find out who they are,” Tony assures them all. “Pepper will go the legal route and we can go egg their house or something.”

“Or something,” Natasha agrees darkly. “What’s the information that’s going to be released tomorrow, Steve?”

“Yes, we need to know so we can start preparing for any fallout,” Pepper adds. Steve blows out a breath, not sure how to even go about wording it.

“Dick pics,” Clint breaks the uncomfortable silence. Everyone stares at him and he shrugs. “I can tell by your face. It’s dick pics.”

Now everyone turns to stare at Steve and he gulps a little. “Um. Yes.”

Tony’s eyes are wider than Steve’s ever seen them. “Who were you sending dick pics to?” He asks urgently. “That’s, um, that’s also really pertinent information. For, you know, the PR stuff, not just my own curiosity. We have to know.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute. We all know who. Just you, Steve, or both of you?”

“Both,” Bucky admits miserably.

“And some, ah, messages?” Steve’s whole face feels like it’s on fire from the force of his blush. “Um. Sort of…explicit messages.”

“You guys were sexting?” Clint asks incredulously, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop a laugh from escaping.

“I was on a mission for a fucking month,” Bucky growls. “Excuse me for needing a little something to get me by.”

Clint holds up his hands. “Hey, man, more power to you, I’m just wondering why you didn’t use snapchat like everyone else. It doesn’t store it on your phone.”

“Still not totally secure,” Tony sing-songs under his breath, and Clint looks distinctly disgruntled at that fact.

“But are there, well…” Pepper seems to be trying to be delicate before huffing and deciding to be point-blank. “Is there anything in the picture that would identify you to anyone who was not familiar with your genitalia?”

“Wow, Pep, just wow,” Tony says appreciatively. “Really just cut to the chase there.”

“Yes,” Bucky’s voice comes out small. He doesn’t elaborate until Pepper gives him a pointed look, and then he can’t seem to muster up the words and instead holds up his hand. His metal hand. Steve thinks he’s not going to have any skin left on his face after this is over. It will have all burned away.

Pepper takes a deep breath. “Alright.”

“There’s no way to stop it from being released?” Steve asks desperately. “And all the texts?”

“How much sexting did you do?”

“It’s not all sexting,” Steve protests sharply, thinking of that long mission and Bucky’s sleepless nights. “It doesn’t have to be sexually explicit to be private.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to write things than say them out loud. And there are details about my time as the Winter Soldier I’m not ready for the public to know yet,” Bucky adds softly. The slightly amused air in the room disappears immediately. Natasha is almost vibrating with rage and a muscle is jumping in Clint’s cheek.

“I’ll find them,” Tony promises grimly.

Pepper turns to look at Steve and Bucky apologetically. “I’m afraid there’s probably no way we’ll be able to stop this from getting out there. We’re just going to have to prepare for the fallout.”

Bucky’s biting nervously at his bottom lip, little tremors making his shoulders twitch, and Steve finds himself filled with intense hatred for this as of yet unknown person. Bucky went through enough. He was tortured and humiliated and violated for seventy years. He’s supposed to be safe now, and here his privacy’s being destroyed again because Steve forgot to zip the pocket of his cargo pants.

“I want to make a statement,” Steve announces. “Now. As soon as possible. Tonight.”

“Steve, it’s fine,” Bucky murmurs. “Just…”

“It’s not fine,” Steve hisses. “No one gets to release your nightmares to get some internet recognition. This is not fucking fine.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Pepper cuts in. “People are salivating over this. Remind them you’re still here. Put your human face to this. Remind everyone that your life’s already on display, that you’ve gone through incredible hardship since waking up. If you can’t shame the person into not releasing, you might be able to shame people into not looking.”

“When can you get me on camera?” Steve asks.

It takes less than an hour. There are already reporters clamoring as close as they can get to Stark Tower, hoping Steve will come out so they can hound him for his thoughts about the issue and ask if it’s really his phone. Pepper simply invites some of them into the lobby for a press conference.

“This is not a Q and A,” she lays down the rules sternly. “Captain Rogers will give his statement and then he will go. Anyone who disregards this format will be escorted off the premises and blacklisted from all future Stark Industries events for life.”

The reporters go quiet. That’s no small threat. Pepper makes sure the mic is set up and nods at Steve, who takes another minute around the corner to center himself. Bucky squeezes his hand, just once, before he heads to the podium, and it helps.

“Good evening,” Steve starts. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The gathered reporters either don’t catch his sarcasm or are choosing to ignore it. “I have just a few things to say on the topic of the leaked phone information.”

He takes a deep breath and licks his lips. “First and foremost, I will admit: yes, that was my phone. Those photos were photos I took of the people on my team, all of whom I consider my family. That’s really my music.” Steve cracks a smile. “I haven’t gotten through everything yet, so don’t completely judge me if there’s something terrible on there.”

That earns him a little chuckle from the crowd, but everyone gets quiet again when Steve turns his face serious. “I have an idea of what exactly this person is going to release tomorrow. Yes, it does involve me in a compromising position, and yes, it is embarrassing. But I’d like to remind everyone of one fact: this is my personal life. I’m not a celebrity in the traditional sense of the word. I did not become a soldier for the fame. I thought I was giving my life for my country, and I woke up and found my country had made a celebrity out of me, made me a figurehead. I’m happy to keep serving, to keep fighting, for the ideals and freedoms I believe in. But I didn’t sign up for this, for the invasions of my privacy I deal with every day.

“Because I am a figurehead, I’m going to say this: go ahead and post that compromising information you found on my phone. I don’t understand the fascination with my life, because I don’t think I’m all that special. But go ahead. I just have a request for you, whoever you are: only post compromising information about me. When you divulge my text messages, you’re not just invading my privacy, but the person I’m talking to, as well.

The sad fact is that the Avengers have lived through terrible, heartbreaking tragedies. All of us. And some of my text messages deal with the losses of others, because that’s what family does—we talk to each other about it. So please, whoever you are, holding my phone right now, go ahead and share that information about me, but don’t drag my family into this.”

Steve finds a camera and looks directly into it. “I know what you found that you promise will blow everyone away. And I know it’s not primarily about me, but someone I love more than I could possibly explain, someone I love who has lived through some of the most unspeakable horrors any human has ever withstood. Please, please don’t do anything that will add to that.”

Steve takes one last deep breath and says his final sentence, making sure to enunciate every single word clearly. “I won’t begrudge you showing the world the picture of me I know you found, but if you release the other information you found, I will find you, and I will make you pay in every way I can think of.”

He gives a final nod and steps away from the podium. The lobby is completely, deathly silent. There’s not even the sound of a camera shutter as he turns and walks away, back around the corner, to where Bucky’s waiting. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head as they walk to the elevator.

When the elevator doors close, Bucky leans into Steve and shakes his head again. “You fucking sap.” His voice is thick, and he’s wearing the tight smile that has always, always, for the entire ninety years Steve has known him, meant he’s feeling emotional.

“I don’t know if it’ll work,” Steve says quietly. “But I just had to get that out there.”

The sit on the couch and watch the tape of his speech spreading across the news channels. They watch as it gets posted on the internet, as the views rise by the thousands and hit the millions less than three hours later. They watch the hashtag #boycottcapgate trend across the globe. They read the headlines, speculating Is Cap’s ‘someone I love more than I could possibly explain’ Bucky Barnes? and the comments, mostly comprised of leave Cap alone and I’m pledging not to look at anything that gets released, with a few dude’s a homo sprinkled in.

At midnight, Bucky turns off the TV, closes the laptop, and tugs Steve by the hand into their bedroom, where they slip into bed and cling tightly to each other and kiss softly until they fall asleep. Steve wakes up the next morning and sighs, immediately reaching for his phone. Bucky grabs his wrist.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Not in our room, okay? If it’s bad, I don’t want it in here.”

Steve leaves the phone and lies back down, covering Bucky’s body with his own and pressing kisses to his lips, his forehead, his temple, gentle kisses to take Bucky apart with his lips and his hands. Bucky soaks it up—sometimes he can’t handle too much affection, too much of Steve’s adoration, because sometimes his head’s not in the right place for that, but today he sighs into it and gives right back to make sure Steve knows he feels the same.

“Well, come on,” Bucky finally murmurs after they’ve clung to each other in the shower. “Time to face the firing squad.”

“I’m pretty sure the expression’s face the music,” Steve points out. Bucky raises an eyebrow and Steve mutters, “Alright, whatever.”

They sit down on the couch and stare at the closed laptop for a minute before Steve takes a deep breath and wakes it.

Captain America’s Steamy Photo, reads the first headline. Steve wants to put his fist through the screen, but he squares his shoulders and clicks on the link. There’s one picture, blurred for its “inappropriate content”, but when Steve clicks the option to unblur it, he’s staring at…his own dick. The picture he sent Bucky. He checks a bunch of other sites, but he doesn’t see, anywhere, the picture Bucky sent him, his metal fist wrapped tight around himself and undeniably identifying him. There are no texts, no plaintive Stevie it’s so bad tonight please I can’t stop shaking, it’s all Zola in my head and that fucking demented STRIKE team and what they made me do.

“It’s just mine,” Steve says, almost unwilling to believe it. “And there’s…none of your texts talking about your nightmare.”

Bucky’s quiet for a minute, and Steve gets antsy waiting for his reaction. He looks quickly at Bucky, who’s chewing his lip. “What are people saying about you sending a picture of your dick?”

Steve scrolls down to the comments. There aren’t as many as he’d expected, and the ones he reads makes him blow out a disbelieving breath. He wasn’t sure his plea would work, but it seems to have at least touched some people.

How do we even know that’s Cap? That could be anyone and you’re just trying to embarrass Captain Rogers.

You should be ashamed for putting this on the internet. I hope they find you and sue you.

Look, can we all just remember he’s not even 30 yet? Who cares if he sends dick pics to someone? Almost every single other guy his age is doing it, and at least he’s most likely not doing it unsolicited, like most of them are.

No one’s surprised his dick is amazing, right? Wow. Bucky almost laughs at that one.

“I’m still pissed, Stevie,” he confesses. Steve hangs his head a little.

“I know, Buck, and I’m sorry—”

“Shut up,” Bucky orders. “I’m not pissed at you. This person still took a private picture of yours that wasn’t theirs to take and put it out there for everyone to see. And I want to give ‘em a piece of my mind. Still. Just because they didn’t post mine or what I said about my nightmare doesn’t make it okay.”

Natasha shows up a few hours later with Steve’s favorite donuts. She doesn’t talk about the picture, but Steve is willing to bet all the money in the world she didn’t look. He meant what he said when he told Natasha he trusts her to save his life.

Sam texts him. Stark find who did it yet?

I haven’t heard anything, Steve sends back. I’m sorry some of your texts were in there.

Hey, nothing of mine was too bad. I’ve gotten sixteen couscous recipes emailed to me so far today. I just wish people respected your boundaries a little better.

Well, it’s better than it could have been. If the person had released all of Steve’s texts, the public would see a conversation between Sam and Steve about the day Riley died, from a particularly bad night when Sam needed to talk. Steve’s glad that’s not out for the world to see.

Tony finds the perpetrator, of course, and it’s some college kid, not even old enough to legally drink. Steve asks them not to sue the kid, as long as he returns the phone and any copies he has of what was on it. Tony is suspiciously fine with it, and Steve suspects he let the kid’s address slip to Natasha. He can’t bring himself to mind too much, not when he thinks of Bucky’s hunched shoulders and the details of his nightmare.

After that, it’s kind of easy to tell who looked at the photo; people will look at him just a second longer, and their eyes will usually start to head south. All it takes is one narrow-eyed look from Bucky to send most of them on their way.

And then Steve and Bucky decide to go public with their relationship, mostly so they can reap the benefits of being allowed to hold hands in public. The internet, of course, is a flurry of “confirmed suspicions” that Steve was talking about Bucky in the press conference.

“I don’t really understand why they care,” Bruce says. “Why does it matter to them if it was Bucky? They’re not going to see the photos anyway.”

“Because they’re all vultures,” Natasha points out.

“I don’t think they’re all vultures,” Bucky cuts in. “They just want to know what Steve’s up to. He’s a real interesting guy.”

That makes everyone roll their eyes at him, especially Steve, but they go on reading comments. It’s a perverse sort of fascination, really, that Steve has for what people are saying about him. It’s not all complimentary, and it can’t be a healthy coping mechanism to sit there and read it all, but Steve’s not at therapy and Sam’s not his therapist, so no one says anything.

"Many people have realized the information you did not want them to see was Sergeant Barnes' companion to your photo," Thor says. "And they're wondering...ah. If there is a size difference. Well. Is that a common thing to speculate about with two male lovers? On Asgard there is much less emphasis on genitalia than here on Midgard." No one quite meets anyone else's eyes for a minute.

Steve reads his favorite comment aloud to the others. “‘So what we’re most likely looking at here is the fact that they were together during CapGate. Okay. So these two guys, who have loved each other longer than any of us have been alive, who couldn’t be together because it was illegal, who went to war, who were separated for way too long—Cap rescued Bucky from a POW camp where he was being experimented on and then watched him slip through his fingers, literally, to what Cap thought was his death, and then found out he went through what was arguably worse than death, and now you’re telling me they’re here now, they’re together? What the fuck ever, let them have all the pictures of each other’s cocks they want.’”

Steve can’t help but laugh after he reads it. It started off so emotional, and the message is touching, really, but the idea that he and Bucky have some sort of photo album of each other in blue pictures is hilarious to him.

Clint shakes his head. “Anyone grow up hearing stories of Cap and ever think he’d laugh at dick jokes?”

“It’s just a funny idea, that we do that a lot,” Steve protests. Tony raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, but Natasha cuts him off with a look. He snaps his mouth shut obediently, but he does leer a little at Steve, so Steve can pretty much figure out the tone of whatever Tony was going to say, anyway. He just rolls his eyes.

CapGate blows over, as some other, more famous celebrity does something salacious. Steve is very careful with his personal phone after that, and he and Bucky are a lot more cautious about the pictures they send each other.

Honestly, it makes Steve a little mad. Why shouldn’t he be able to send Bucky fourteen dirty pictures a day if he wants to? He has no private life anymore, it seems, and that’s tough for him to be okay with. He thought he was getting used to being Captain America, but new problems seem to come up every day, and he can’t think of a way around this one without hanging up the shield.


“Stevie!” Bucky calls excitedly from the kitchen. “Steeeeeeeeve, c’mere!”

“What?” Steve asks, coming out from their bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Bucky hands Steve his phone. Of course Bucky knows Steve’s password; even if he didn’t, he could probably guess it pretty quickly, considering it’s Bucky’s birthday.

“Open QuickPic,” Bucky commands.

“What is that?” Steve asks blankly, already obediently looking down at his phone at the new app Bucky’s downloaded for him.

“New thing Tony created.”

Steve sees he has one friend, Bucky Barnes. He also has a QuickPic waiting. He thumbs it open and almost drops his phone.

“Jesus, Buck!” Steve says. It’s a picture right down Bucky’s shorts, not artful in the least, obviously hastily taken, without regard for how the picture actually looked. He’s not even hard. “When did you even take that?”

“While you were still in the shower.” Bucky shrugs. “Tony says this is better than that snapchat thing Clint was talking about because it doesn’t store the pictures anywhere.”

Steve pauses for a second to mull this over. “So…it’s private.”

Bucky grins. “Totally private.”

“Tony’s not getting copies of these?” Steve checks, just to be sure. Bucky laughs at him.

“Tony’s not that perverted. Plus, I already threatened to hurt him if he’s pulling one over on us.”

Steve feels a smile taking over his face. He moves in closer and draws Bucky in with hands on his hips. “So we can take as many dirty photos as we want.”

“All day every day,” Bucky confirms, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve huffs a laugh and draws him in for a kiss.

“That seems a little overkill, if most days I got the real thing right here,” he points out.

“Hmm,” Bucky murmurs against his lips. “But what about your principles, Stevie? It’s the idea that we can.”

“You do make a compelling point…”

The rest of the team quickly learns not to open any QuickPics between Steve and Bucky, and Steve and Bucky enjoy their favorite new app. A lot.