It was one in the morning and Bucky had the contents of an entire vending machine in his backpack. Granted, perhaps spending 12% of his wages on calorific snacks with no nutritional value was not his best idea but he had no classes the next day and he was prepared for a Netflix marathon. Go hard or go home, as the cool kids say. Sure it was late and the fluorescent lights didn't help but Bucky was pretty sure he wasn't hallucinating the argument at the other end of his dorm's corridor if the screaming wasn't anything to go on by. Looking through the clear plastic window of the doors, Bucky saw - as what he expected - yet another couple arguing. Some tiny hipster kid was standing in the door of a room, looking like he was going to beat up the other person with some pretentious book written in the 1940s, and opposite him was a rugged, dark haired man, the kind you don't piss off without a just cause. He was clearly taller and the stronger of the two and Bucky got the feeling he was one of those kids in high school who pushed the nerds into lockers and was captain of the football team. Simply put, he looked dangerous and he clearly outmatched tiny hipster kid, as Bucky had now dubbed him. Pushing the door forward enough that he could slip through, Bucky hid behind an open cupboard door before the dark haired man noticed him. Now, Bucky's pretty well built, he works out when he can and he got rid of that puppy fat that somehow lingered after puberty, but he knows danger when he sees it and he cannot afford to get his Netflix snacks beaten up just because he decided to get into a fight.
Bucky can now hear the screaming and damn, it's pretty intense. He feels like he should get his popcorn out but maybe that's a bit inappropriate.
Tiny hipster kid's now screaming, "FOR FUCK'S SAKE BROCK, GET OUT, I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU ANYMORE!" For such a tiny person, his voice is certainly larger than life. That is, Until dark haired dude, Brock apparently, stalks into Tiny Hipster's kid space, and his voice falters.
"Come on Steve, stop gettin' so worked up babe, it wasn't that bad." He says with a persuasive tone but apparently it doesn't work on Steve, who looks up at him and balls his fist. Whatever the fuck's going on, Bucky has massive respect for Steve, he sure as hell wouldn't stand up to "Brock".
"Brock, you made rape jokes! In a sexual assault seminar of all places! You can't just fuckin' say things like that, it's 2015!" Steve shrieks at him, colour rising high on his cheeks. Bucky's kinda scared of Steve, sure he's about five foot something and looks like Bucky could pick him up with one arm, but the righteous fury radiating off him would make a nun say fifty Hail Marys.
"They were funny! Besides everyone knows they really want it." Brock had the audacity to say out loud. Steve looked so appalled, his mouth and eyes opened in surprise before he began to start a sentence. And of course somebody sent Bucky a text, the ring tone loud and clear in the silence of the corridor.
"What the fuck?!" Brock snarled, his head turning in the direction of the notification. He marched down the corridor until he found Bucky cowering behind the flimsy door and dragged him out with an iron grip on his arm. "Yep," Bucky thought, "this is bad."
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Brock demanded, his five o' clock shadow making him look way older than a first year college student. Swallowing loudly, Bucky muttered, "uh, that's um, a good question? A very good... question." He was fortunately saved by Steve, who must have sneaked up behind Brock and put himself between Brock and Bucky. Bucky wasn't too sure whether he was glad he no longer had to face Douchebag Extraordinaire or whether he wanted to yell at Steve for clearly making himself a target and no offence to him, but he looked like he'd topple over if there was a stiff breeze.
"Brock, calm down. There's- there's somethin' I need to tell ya." Steve sternly said. "What, are my shirts offensive as well?" Brock sneered, as if he couldn't care less. Steve murmured, "Well, that's another thing but I was hoping to overlook that," in a deadpan voice and Bucky found himself smiling slightly, impressed by this kid with metal in his ears and tattoos spilling out of his button up. Standing up and placing himself to the side of Steve, Bucky figured there was strength in numbers, even if Brock looked like he could take both of them on without a sweat.
"There's someone else, Brock." Steve explained, to Brock's scoff and reply of, "Yeah right, as if you could get anyone. I only went out with you 'cause I thought it'd be a laugh." Bucky wasn't too sure where this was going but he got a pretty good idea when Steve said darkly, "You would be surprised," and grabbed at the collar of Bucky's shirt and dragged him down for a kiss. Now, Bucky's had many kisses but he's pretty sure he hasn't had one like this. Despite the initial surprise, he relaxed into the kiss and cradled his hands at the back of Steve's head where the short hair of his undercut tickled his fingers. Steve was a fantastic kisser, with just the right amount of tongue and holy shit, was that a tongue piercing? Bucky broke apart from Steve, despite his phenomenal technique and the pair of them looked at Brock, who glared at them with an unhidden hatred.
"Fuck you, Rogers." He snarled to which Steve laughed hollowly at. "Actually I'll think you'll find you always fucked me. But by the way, maybe you should do some readin' on the prostate? It might just help you find it for next time." Steve said coolly, as if he hadn't just broken up with his boyfriend and kissed a stranger. "But you should probably know that I reported your neo-Nazi frat group to the college, in case you try anythin'. Got it?" Brock stared at Steve with a look that forced lesser people to their knees. "This ain't over." He promised before stalking down the corridor and kicking the door open into the frigid late winter air.
Bucky suddenly felt very awkward, stuck in a corridor with a bag full of candy and a stranger who just kissed him. And it was only one in the morning. "Uh, if you don't mind me askin', is there someone else?" Bucky asked, his lips still tingling. Steve gracefully snorted. "No, there's not anyone actually. Brock just thinks he owned me even though I caught him cheatin' last week in some nightclub. Woulda kicked his ass into next week if I caught him again." Bucky grinned, instantly liking him. Up close, Bucky could take a better look at him. Steve was blonde and had an undercut with the rest of his hair sticking up in a soft fauxhawk Bucky wanted to run his hands through. He had at least a dozen piercings in his ear and on closer inspection, Steve had an ring in his eyebrow and Bucky remembered the shape of the metal in Steve's tongue. Under the harsh light of fluorescent bulbs, Bucky could see tattoos arching up onto Steve's neck, a half sleeve on each arm and a small infinity sign on his left wrist. Bucky realised that he was staring at Steve's tattoos and hurriedly said, "'m sorry it's jus' that you're gorgeous. I- I mean your tattoos are gorgeous!" Steve looked at him with a questioning look until he quietly laughed, sparkling blue eyes matching his plaid shirt and Converses. Okay yeah, Steve was gorgeous, Bucky slowly admitted to himself. Anyone who could have such a fantastic ass in jeans that skinny automatically qualified for the title of gorgeous and as a red blush grew up Bucky's face, Steve smiled radiantly at Bucky and stuck his hand out.
"Steve Rogers, art history and Gaelic." He said in a Brooklyn drawl that reminded Bucky of home. "James Barnes, call me Bucky, Cold War Europe." Bucky replied as he returned Steve's strong handshake. They parted and stood back, assessing the situation.
"Hey, Steve, if you want, I- uh, I have candy and Netflix. Um, if you wanna join. Only if you wanna join." Bucky somehow managed to splutter out. Smooth moves Barnes, Bucky thought to himself. Steve's mouth quirked up in a half smile and replied, "Oh yeah? Hit me up with Skittles and Orange Is The New Black and I'm all yours, "James Barnes, call me Bucky."
"You know what?" Bucky softly smiled at Steve, a gesture Steve returned, "I think I might just do that."