Work Text:
STAGE DOOR CANTEEN
“Oh…I’m sorry. I was looking for Mrs Gilmore. I…uhm…well. You seem to be…naked. Yeah, I’m just going to….” Bucky set the bundle of books that he was carrying down on the floor and hurriedly backed out of the USO director’s office. Once he was free, he leaned his back against the wall and tried to calm his breath. That was…and he was… “Holy cow!” If he lived forever and a day, he would never forget this moment.
TWO DAYS LATER
Steve checked the address that Mrs Gilmore had written down against the number on the shop door. This was it, alright. From across the street he watched as a young man appeared in the store window. His dark wavy hair was too long in the front and hung in his eyes as he set down a large box and began to rummage through it. Curious, he watched a while longer. His artists’ eye taking in long, slender, roped muscles moving gracefully in the air as deft fingers worked to fasten what he now knew to be a string of lights to what must be existing brackets or nails. The man’s shirt collar lay open to mid-chest and Steve could see where a day’s exertion was beginning to stain his undershirt. Suspenders straining as he tip-toed in his stocking feet to reach the highest spots. Back on his heels, his subject wiped his brow with a bare forearm, then stood back and admired his work, absently re-rolling his sleeves and nodding to himself. When the man’s attention turned toward the street, Steve hurriedly crossed. Pulling his collar up and keeping his head down. He paused in the doorway to gather courage. Now that he’d had a better look, he knew he had to meet his charming interloper. “C’mon Rogers. You can do this.”
Bucky heard the bell ring, announcing a new arrival, but he was too busy decorating to pay much mind. “Just set it on the counter Shane. Tell your Mom thank you for me.”
“My name’s not Shane…and I’m afraid my Ma’s been gone a long time.” Steve answered, his voice quiet but sure.
The shop loomed large around them. Although the outside was a quaint old store front nestled between a hardware store and candy shop, Mad Hatter Books was filled to the brim with every tome one could ever wish to find. Books were piled haphazardly on every surface possible, even the floor. Hinting at secrets and promises yet to be. Hidden amongst the shelves were tattered old chairs, inviting customers to read.
Bucky walked out of the window space, wiping his hands on his threadbare striped pants. “Hey…you’re not Shane.”
“I thought I had established that as fact a moment ago,” a cheeky grin played across his face as he removed his hat to press it humbly to his chest. “I also pointed out that my Ma has passed.”
Bucky stood gob smacked. Captain America, here in his shop, sassing him as if Bucky hadn’t seen him as naked as the day he was born just two days prior. “I think I liked you better without clothes. Far less attitude.”
Steve chuckled, it was a joyous noise from deep inside him. “You didn’t stay long enough to find out. And to think, I came here to apologize.”
“For scaring me away?”
“I could go, if you rather…” He feigned turning toward the door. Going so far as to take a step.
“Nah…after all, I rather enjoy having Captain America groveling at my feet.” Bucky considered Steve for a long moment, wondering what he had missed by running. By his reckoning, there wasn’t a single muscle unaccounted for. Even his overcoat seemed to model his enhanced physique.
“I’m hardly groveling.” Steve ducked his head to hide his playful smile. “Are you just going to stand there playing the Wolf to my Betty Boop or are you going to ask me nicely to stay?”
“I like the way you think…” His voice trailed off as he realized that he had no idea what Captain America’s name was.
“Rogers. Steve Rogers” Steve provided and held out his hand.
“Rogers.” Bucky repeated as he took the man’s hand into his own, shaking it firmly. “Nice to meet you. They call me Bucky.”
Steve’s brow rose. “Bucky?”
“James Buchanan Barnes.” Bucky drawled and spread his arms. “What you see is what you get!”
“That’s a hell of a name.”
“Pal, you have no idea…” Whatever Bucky may have been about to say next was lost as actual Shane arrived, stealing the focus away from their teasing.
Steve used the distraction to hang his overcoat and hat on a conveniently placed rack.
Bucky locked the door and hung out the closed sign before walking over to the register counter where Shane had left his parcels. Bucky tore off the wrapping to reveal a bottle of whiskey followed by two cut glass tumblers. “Genuine Irish Whiskey, fresh off the boat from the old country! Do you drink, Rogers?”
Steve found a nearby reading nook with two leather high back wing chairs and stiffly sat down, remaining as starched as his uniform. “Do I? Yes. Does it have any effect on me? No.”
Bucky watched in selfish appreciation as Steve walked away. From the way, his back narrowed into a v from his shoulders down to his hips to the way. his uniform clung to his luscious ass, Steve Rogers was perfection. He pours a dram of Whisky into both tumblers anyway then swoops over to Steve, handing him a glass before taking an easy sprawl on the opposite chair. “Loosen up Cap. I’m not going to eat you.” He rolls his tongue over his bottom lip. “Yet.”
Steve can feel his face reddening with something he’s not sure he’s quite ready for. Taking a figurative step back, he changes the subject. “So…how come you aren’t overseas? Shouldn’t a strapping young man such as yourself be knee deep in Nazi’s?”
“I can’t. I’m 4-F.” When Steve raises his brow, he continues. “I’m morally unfit to serve.”
“What?”
“It’s a classification they use for felons, the formerly institutionalized, and homosexuals.”
“Which one are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He winks and settles deeper into his chair. “What about you? How come Cap’s stateside?”
“They wanted an Army and all they got was me. All shiny and new but, not worth a plug nickel. I was lucky to be assigned to the USO.”
“Aw. C’mon. It can’t be that bad. I bet you have a girl in every town.”
“There was a girl, back when I was in Basic, she oversaw my training. For a moment, I imagined that maybe I could make a go with her. She was a class act, an honest to goodness English Rose. But, she transferred back home.” Steve’s lips form a wistful smile as he remembers. “Told me to hurry after her or she would win the War without me. You know, what? I believe she’ll do just that.”
“So, cards on the table. Why did you come here Steve? What are you looking for?” Leaning forward, Bucky places his elbows on his knees, hands clasped before him.
“I was hoping you would know the answer to that. When you walked in on me changing into my costume, I felt…well, I felt a spark.” Steve scrubbed his face with his hands in embarrassment. “What am I even saying? I’m such an idiot. I barely saw you for a minute before you ran away from me as fast as you could.”
“Looking at you is kind of like looking directly into sunlight, Rogers. You have no idea how much I have wished I had stayed.”
Steve reached for his tie and loosened it, needing air. “Did you know that before I became Captain America, I was a ninety-pound weakling who spent more time in the hospital than I ever did in the sun?”
“I thought they made that part up for the comic books.”
Steve stuffs his tie in his pocket and slips open a few buttons on his shirt before standing and taking out his wallet. He pulls out a picture of himself taken by Peggy, minutes before the procedure. “This is the real me. Skin and bones and not much else.”
Bucky takes the picture, and studies it closely before grinning up at Steve. “All I see is your radiant smile. Your English Rose must have taken this.”
Steve kneels next to Bucky’s chair, so they can both see. “Yeah, Peggy made me feel like I was so much more than I am. I hope I live up to the man she saw me as.”
Bucky covers Steve’s hand with his own. “I think she probably just wanted you to be yourself Steve.”
Steve cupped Bucky’s cheek with his free hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over a tic in his jaw. “I don’t know what to say.”
Bucky drew Steve closer with a hand at the back of his neck. “So, don’t say anything.” He whispered the last word over Steve’s lips, waiting until he could almost feel them tingling in time with his own before softly pressing their lips together. He kissed him gently, neither asking nor taking. Again, and again he brushed his lips over Steve’s. He didn’t stop until he could feel the sensation of Steve’s already full lips, swelling even more under his careful ministrations.
Steve gazed at Bucky through impossibly long lashes, an open, boyish look on his face. He felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. “Bucky…”
He pressed a finger to Steve’s lips. Silencing him. “Not now, not yet.” With a mischievous wink, he was on his feet and dancing over to the register. He poured himself another drink and tossed it back before spinning around to face Steve, arms splaying out provocatively over the counter. “So, what do you say Steve? Want to help me trim my shop with the joy that is Christmas?”
Steve grinned despite himself. “Is this a test?”
Bucky shook his head. “No, you punk. This is me, asking you nicely to stay.”
“Jerk.”