Chapter Text
It’s a common misconception.
That is, the whole idea that Steve Rogers never kissed anyone before Peggy Carter.
He understands, of course, why the rumor took hold — why all those history texts and respectable scholars go on and on about how Steve’s scrawny stature kept him from getting any playground kisses when he was younger. No, it wasn’t until Steve became Captain America that he finally got some lip-to-lip action.
And Steve is fine with the whole thing. Really, he is. On Peggy’s better days, he likes to sit beside her bed and talk to her about how backwards everybody has him these days. It was bad enough back then, he tells her, but now it is getting ridiculous.
Sometimes Peggy will laugh, slowly stroking a thumb over Steve’s wrist and pretending like she isn’t still checking for his steady pulse. Others, she will nod her head with a soft understanding because Peggy knows him and sees just how terribly the world has drawn a caricature of him to suit their needs. But there is one time when Peggy just looks at him for a moment, twisting her classic red lips into a knowing smile.
“So, you’re saying I wasn’t your first then,” she asks Steve though she already knows the answer. He flushes, leaning back into his rickety seat to brace his hands on his knees.
“That’s not what I said, Pegs,” he tells her, but Peggy just rolls her eyes with all the precision a fed-up women can. She reaches forward and pinches the denim covering Steve’s thigh in a show of force.
Peggy purses her lips at him. “I know that’s not what you said, dear, but I am not so old that I cannot read between the lines. And, Steve, your lines are wider than the Potomac itself.”
There’s nothing Steve can say to this — nothing he can do to argue or turn around the conversation. He knows this because there is a look in Peggy’s eyes that stop him. It’s a straightforward look that sees right through him just like it did all those years ago when she sat next to him in a cab on their way to Brooklyn. For a moment, Steve almost feels like he is small again under her careful look because she’s always been able to do that.
They are quiet for a moment. Steve waits for her to speak again as he hears Sharon working in the kitchen down the hall, making lunch under her grandmother’s strict orders to serve their guest some tea. Even the lively day just beyond Peggy’s window doesn’t distract him though it tries with its crisp, turning air that’s just now starting to usher in the spring.
“I’m not upset, Steve.”
He looks at her, tilting his head. “Huh?”
Peggy grins slyly. “I said, I’m not upset for you having kissed someone else before me if you were worried about that.”
Quirking his brow, Steve nods. “That’s nice to hear, Pegs.”
She laughs, bringing her hand to fiddle with the necklace Steve gave her for Christmas. “I don’t possibly see how I could mad about it, Steve, given the facts.”
Steve stops. “What facts?”
Peggy’s smile arches. “The facts are that you kissed someone else, and that person was none other than Bucky Barnes,” she tells him as Steve’s jaw drops. Seeing his taken expression, Peggy snorts gracefully. “What? Did you really think I didn’t know?”
Steve, to his credit, manages to shut his jaw before answering. “H-How many people know about this,” he asks, thinking through all the biographies and god-awful specials he watched about his team because nobody has ever brought up this little to-do before. Peggy shakes her head, resting her hand lightly on Steve’s hands which are now digging into his jeans.
“Just me, Steve. I never told a soul.”
“But,” Steve stammers, “how did you find out?”
Peggy shrugs. “I had quite the conversation once with Barnes about it after a few drinks. You were with Stark — Howard, that is — and the rest of your team needed…might I say, some persuasion to quit causing a raucous at the pub that evening. I forget the rest but…”
Steve waits as Peggy grows quiet, and a dreadful tug pulls at his gut when he realizes that she might be slipping today. He leans forward to brush a curled strand of hair from her face. Despite her focus, Peggy fusses and swats his hand away, lacing their fingers together as she rests their hands above her chest.
He feels the steady thud-thud of her heart beneath his fingertips. A moment later, Peggy finishes.
“…oh yes,” she starts. “It’s a miracle, though, that nobody else ever figured it out.”
Steve blanches. “Why’d you say that?”
“Well, you two — it's not like you were very subtle.”
________
Bucky never kissed Steve.
There hadn’t been any games involved, no late-night pranks gone awry that left Bucky hovering just above Steve’s lips until he let himself sink forwards. Surprisingly, there weren’t any bets made about the two locking lips from their friends who would all giggle and crow at the first sight of couple holding hands. It wasn’t even practice for their would-be girlfriends one day as the two boys fumbled around each other, pretending that the lips they were kissing were painted red and belonged to Susie Donovan down the way.
Steve kissed Bucky instead after his mother died, both kneeling by her empty bed after the funeral ended because Steve was alone now and Bucky…well, Bucky was everything he had left. There wasn’t any thought when he pushed himself up to Bucky, angling his face like he had seen his friend do with all his dames after school. Their lips touched briefly — soft, warm, chapped from their teeth rolling over its skin to hold back tears — but the feeling rippled through Steve’s spine as he pushed himself further forwards. Bucky didn’t move for a second, but then he was tilting his head to brush his nose against Steve’s cheek as he kissed him back.
It felt like an hour for Steve, but when Bucky pulled back not a minute later, he could feel the hot shame of what he’d done stick in his chest. His tired lungs struggled for air as he turned his head aside, unable to look at his best friend — not after he’d done something so wrong — and found himself looking over his mother’s handmade quilt that was still draped over her bed. His eyes grew heavy as he traced the familiar sewn blanket, breathing shortly even as Bucky drew Steve towards his chest.
“Pal,” Bucky said, “you gotta calm down. It’s okay; I know, alright? It’s been a lot, but I need you to breathe now, Steve. Look at me, okay? Will you look at me?”
There was a hand underneath Steve’s chin, pulling his face away from him mother’s bed and towards Bucky’s wide eyes. Dropping his stare to Bucky’s red mouth, Steve’s lips wobbled once before he let out a pained whine and rolled his head onto Bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky kept his hands on Steve’s back, rubbing up and down Steve’s back. “Shh, breathe through it. Don’t worry, Steve, it’ll be better in the morning. You’ll see. I’m hear, okay, so just breathe with me…”
When Steve woke up the morning, they didn't speak of what happened. Bucky went to work like normal if not with more hesitancy to leave Steve by himself, but he eventually went on his way after Steve wrapped himself in a blanket and swore to god himself that he wouldn’t leave his bed. And he didn’t for once — Steve kept in bed beneath his own blanket until that evening when the sun had gone down and Bucky still hadn’t come back yet to check on him.
But, when Bucky finally did come around later that night to cajole his friend into eating some food, Steve wasn’t in bed. Throat thick, Bucky slid out of Steve’s room and hurried to the other bedroom before letting out a long breath. Because there was Steve, still curled tightly within his blanket, but Bucky’s heart sank when he saw the threadbare quilt lain on top of Steve.
If Steve had been awake then, he might have seen Bucky crouch down beside him. With a hand reaching to brush hair from Steve’s face, Bucky had chickened out and brought his hand instead to rest on Steve’s ice cold hand which dangled from the bed.
If Steve had been awake then, he might have heard Bucky’s fond voice call out to him before stopping. Wanting his friend to rest, Bucky had quieted and instead pulled the covers higher up on Steve’s thin chest.
If Steve had been awake then, he might have felt Bucky’s lips press gently onto his forehead as Bucky climbed to his feet. With Steve asleep, Bucky hadn’t been sure what to do — had maybe thought to crash in Steve’s bed down the hall while he still could — but ultimately found himself unable to leave.
So, when Steve woke up early the next morning to find Bucky asleep on the floor beside his mother’s bed, he wasn’t sure what to think.
He never was when it came to Bucky.
________
It’s a month after the visit when Steve mentions it again.
He doesn’t set out to. These things, it seem, slip from Steve without the slightest provocation.
It’s the only way to explain why he winds up talking about this when pinned to a gym mat, straining for breath as Natasha’s boot digs into his ribs.
Face reddening, Steve blanches — can’t think of anything else to throw Natasha off and win this last round — so he gasps: “I kissed Bucky.”
Immediately, Natasha’s foot lifts off Steve’s chest, and he rolls himself to the side and gets to his feet. A drop of sweat runs into his eye and stings enough to make him blink, but Steve can feel the steady look that Natasha is giving him.
From across the gym, Sam looks concerned. “You did what?”
It takes a moment for Steve to process everything — to even realize what he had just said — but when he does, his face goes red for a whole different reason. Steve shrugs. “I, um, I kissed Bucky,” he answers because, really, what good will lying do for him now?
Natasha takes a step towards him, quiet as ever as her bare-feet pad against the mat. Steve straightens automatically, feeling smaller and smaller as she comes closer until she’s right at his chest. There is a look in her eyes that reminds him so much of Peggy that it nearly knocks his breath away as she takes a finger and pokes him in the chest. Steve, still panicked, shuffles backwards.
“Sure, sure,” she tells him. “We’ll pretend like you didn’t just say hoping the shock would knock me off you. That was a cheap trick, Rogers. I’m proud of you.”
Steve frowns, opening his mouth to correct her — to tell her and Sam that he really had kissed Bucky — but then Sam is stepping onto the mat with an easy grin.
“Steve Rogers getting down and dirty with a lady in a fight? I never thought I’d see the day,” Sam jokes as he comes to stand next to Steve. His shoulders glisten with sweat, and just above Sam’s elbow, Steve can already see an ugly bruise forming after Natasha had manhandled him to the ground. On his part, Sam hadn’t minded too much, not if it meant that he got to have his ass handed to him by Natasha herself.
“…back to the match?”
Shaking his head, Steve says: “Wait, guys, I wasn’t—“
“Steve.”
At Sam’s voice, Steve looks between his friends with the dawning realization of what they’re doing. It’s an out, plain and simple. If he doesn’t want to admit it, if he can’t without falling apart, they’re letting him slide out of the breakdown before it starts. Natasha is still staring at him, and Steve knows that they both know what he said, but it doesn’t have to matter — not if he doesn’t want it to.
Steve drops his shoulders, toeing the mat as he keeps his eyes firmly to the floor.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s finish this."
________
It happens for a second time when Thor brings the team some fabled Asgardian liquor.
Steve isn’t even sure what he is drinking when he starts to feel the hazy buzz of alcohol wash over him. He remembers laughing because he hasn’t felt this way in nearly a decade — to be able to feel not only the initial burn of a drink but then to also then feel the easy, drunken way it makes him feel afterwards. It’s not been since Prohibition ended that Steve can remember drinking like this with friends, and even him being in this new body and being with new friends cannot shake the nostalgia from him.
Beside him, Tony has his arm thrown over Clint’s shoulder as they sway back-and-forth to a song Steve doesn’t recognize.
At this point, he should be used to that happening.
“Captain!”
Steve’s vision swirls when he turns at Thor’s booming voice. The large man has dropped himself in the seat beside Steve, smiling widely as he holds a tankard of mead in one hand and a sketchbooks in his other. Eyes widening, Steve reaches for the sketchbook and places it in his lap when Thor lets go. He lets his hands trace over its cover reverently before he opens it and sees his sloppily written signature tucked away in the bottom corner.
“It appears you received a package from somebody named Smithsonian. That is quite the odd name to have upon Midgard, is it not? In all my travels, I have yet to…”
But Steve stops listening to Thor’s rambles as he opens the sketchbook, rubbing his fingers over the aged paper as he takes in the familiar shapes etched into it. He’s so enamored with the book that he doesn’t notice when Tony and Clint quit their duet and come to stand behind Steve until Clint’s sloshed voice calls out to him.
“Is that Barnes?”
Freezing, Steve looks at the picture he’s turned to and sees it’s a simple portrait of Bucky’s face.
“It is,” Steve answers, replying easily — more so than he normally would. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
Tony snorts. “Of course he is, Cap. I mean, have you seen the guy?”
“10/10, would recommend Barnes as the hottest of all super soldiers,” Clint says. “Why isn’t he with us? Hey, Barnes, get your ass down here!”
Steve punches Clint in the thigh a little harder than he means to so that his friend will stop yelling. “He’s on a…a mission, yeah,” Steve tells them. “It’s super secret, so keep it hush-hush.”
“Agent and Fury never do know when to quit, do they,” Tony asks as he settles him on the couch, squishing Steve and Thor closer together. “Secret this, secret that — It’s so boring. I need some new, better secrets,” he says.
“I’ve got one,” Clint cries. “Coulson used to wear eyeliner!”
The group bursts into laughter.
Thor goes next. “Darcy once bested me in battle,” he tells them proudly. “She is quite the mighty opponent!”
And, again, the team falls into fits of laughter as Tony starts gasping for breath.
When it is Steve’s turn, he simply tells them, “My first kiss was Bucky.”
The group is silent for a moment — just long enough to make Steve’s stomach turn uncomfortably — but then Tony is falling backwards off the couch and laughing despite the way his shoulder rammed into the hardwood floor. Clint follows suit, laughing so hard that he has to wipe his eyes, while Thor chuckles goodheartedly before finishing his drink.
Steve sits there, confused. “What’s so funny?”
Tony continues laughing. “Jesus, Cap, we wanted to know your secrets, not your fantasies. Oh my god, this is hilarious. Captain America is a liar JARVIS, please tell me you got that…”
But Steve doesn’t stick around to hear the reply. While the rest of the team cracks themselves up, Steve grabs his sketchbook and heads to the kitchen for some quiet and to find some better lighting so he can look through his drawings.
(and, when tony comes around later making kissy noises, steve doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilt when he trips tony on his way back to the common area)
________
“I don’t believe you.”
Steve groans, ducking his head. “Why not? Why is it so hard to believe?”
Kate tugs on Lucky’s leash, waiting for him to come back from the flower bush he’d taken such interest in. “It’s not that it’s hard to believe, it’s just…”
Looking back to her, Steve blinks. “It’s just what?”
She bends down to ruffle Lucky’s fur when he returns. “You’re such a good boy,” Kate coos. “Yes you are. Yes you are! Thank you for not bringing me back any dead mice this time. That was so nice of you, good boy.”
Steve snaps. “Kate!”
Looking up to him from the ground, Kate deflates and looks back to Lucky. “You see Lucky? This is why men are stupid. Because if a man like Steve really had his first kiss with a man like Bucky almost a million years ago and was still wanting to kiss him again,” she says before pausing, “then I would expect a man like Steve to grow the balls to do so again.”
As if he understands, Lucky lazily nods his head before nosing Steve’s shin. Kate beams.
“See? Even Lucky wants you to get lucky these days.”
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He hates that he can’t tell her that she’s wrong.
________
It’s a chronic condition, the way Steve perpetually has the worst timing.
Really, it would be comical with the way it keeps happening, but Steve struggles to find the humor of it all when the team is assigned a new mission. Because it should be a simple infiltration and intel recovery op. Except it didn't turn out that way, and that is why Steve finds himself posing as Bucky’s date to get into a swanky upscale hotel in Manila that's unfortunately hosting a fronted Hydra get-together. Both dressed sleekly in new suits — suits that are loose enough to actually let them move and fight — Steve wipes his hands on his pants as they make their way to security.
Bucky knocks into Steve, reaching for his hand and taking it in his own.
Steve, for his part, does his best not to let out a strangled gasp and turn into a tomato. “What are you doing,” he hisses under his breath.
Smiling at Steve, Bucky answers. “Being a good boyfriend.”
And fuck all if that doesn’t make Steve’s heart jumped ten feet within his chest.
It isn’t until the two are far enough inside, schmoozing through the crowd of silk dresses and old money, that Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand. Steve misses the warmth immediately, enough that he has to shake his hand to rid himself of the distracting feeling, because they still have a mission to finish. With Natasha and Clint unwillingly infiltrating catering for this op, Steve knows that Buck and he have to do this right and do it fast.
Bucky is already overriding their target’s bedroom door when Steve looks up. “You ready?”
Huffing, Bucky hears the door unlock with a click. “When am I ever not?”
But this is where Steve’s timing comes in handy. Steve has just finished rifling through the target’s drawer, looking for the data that Fury is so adamant about getting, when Bucky calls out from the bed. “It’s on her laptop. I just need to upload this,” he says, “and then we need to call in the team.”
Suddenly aware of all the people downstairs — all of those Hydra beneficiaries who are networking just a floor below him — Steve moves behind Bucky as he uploads the intel to one of Stark’s drives. Steve isn’t sure what Bucky’s doing, not evening after having taken a crash course in hacking from Skye just a month ago, but he can see the percentage bar filling as the data moves.
A creak outside the door snaps Steve’s attention. Bucky swears lowly, drumming his fingers on the laptop as the process counts down.
97%
The creak outside sounds again as a person’s voice accompanies it.
98%
Steve sees the door handle jiggle as a man outside tries to get in the room, so he stands up.
99%
“It’s not the target,” Bucky whispers. “That’s not her, but she has been known to pick up men at events like this.” But the door unlocks anyway. The door handle turns slowly — so slowly that Steve is sure he’s imagining it — and then he looks down at the computer.
100%
“Baby,” the man says as he stumbles into the room, “are you ready for some — oh shit.”
Because the man doesn’t walk into the room and find his would-be date waiting for him on the bed. No, instead he finds two men sprawled a top the bed as Steve brackets Bucky’s body with his own, kissing him with everything he has. He breathes in sharply when Bucky arches up, fingers scrambling to grab onto Steve’s shoulder as he opens his mouth wider. A soft sigh slips from Steve’s mouth as he pushes Bucky harder onto the bed, raking his hands through Bucky’s long, tousled hair.
Steve isn’t sure when the man finally decides to leave them be, but when he pulls away from Bucky this time — so many years after their first kiss — Steve’s eyes meet Bucky’s and neither can look away. Bucky’s eyes are blown wide, and Steve is so close to Bucky that he can again feel each breath that his friend takes. Licking his lips, Steve struggles for words.
“I…”
Bucky nods. “Yeah.”
“Should we talk about this?”
Still staring at Steve, Bucky nods. “Yeah.”
Steve laughs. “Can you not saying anything other than ‘yeah’ after that?”
Bucky smiles, finally letting go of Steve’s shirt. “Yeah.”
“You’re such a jerk,” Steve tells him as he sits up, feeling less ashamed than before but a whole hell of a lot more embarrassed. He carefully slides off the bed, watchful of the laptop he had shoved to the floor to make room for them on the bed, and Steve leans against the bed as he faces the large window leading out to Manila. Bucky slides down there a moment later, close enough to Steve that their shoulders touch.
“We need to go,” Steve says after a long moment. “We have a job to finish.”
Bucky nods. “I know,” he says, “but if we go, will we actually talk about what just happened this time?”
Looking to Bucky, Steve furrows his brow. “This time?”
Bucky doesn’t answer him. Instead, he leans forward into Steve’s space before placing a soft kiss on Steve’s lips — so quick that Steve doesn’t even get to enjoy it properly. But then Bucky pulls back and laughs so loudly that Steve nearly jumps.
“It’s just like the first time,” Bucky tells him softly, and Steve blinks.
“I didn’t…I wasn’t sure if you—“
“Remembered?”
Steve looks at his hands. “I didn’t want to push you or anything.”
Bucky shakes his head. “You’re a punk, you know that? You’ve had me guessing over here for months now. Jesus, I thought I was going crazy — thought that maybe I had made the memories all up.”
“Memories of what,” Steve asks.
Bucky smiles, and the sight makes Steve's heart want to burst. “Memories of loving you," he says.
There’s a moment then where Steve struggles to breathe, feeling smaller than he ever has before, but then Bucky takes his hand in his and holds him tight. The overwhelming feeling in Steve’s chest makes him laugh as he squeezes Bucky’s hand, feeling the way that their fingers interlock and fit between one another.
Steve breathes out. “I lo—“
Outside, a large explosion cuts him off. Steve and Bucky are on their feet, crowding the large window as they watch the Hulk and Tony set off their attack. Steve swears, pivoting with Bucky at his side to get to the ballroom downstairs to assist Natasha. Pressing his comm, Steve yells.
“What the hell, Stark? You were supposed to wait until the all-clear.”
Stark’s tinny reply echoes through their shared comm a moment later. “Sorry, Cap, but we didn't have all day. We thought it was fine considering how you and Barnes were getting along.”
Steve nearly trips over his own feet once he realizes that the whole entire team heard what just went on in that room — and to Bucky’s credit — he manages to keep his own shock to a minimum as they reach the ballroom. The room is in shambles as patrons try to escape while other Hydra agents flood the room, shooting wildly as they attempt to take down Natasha. But Clint and Sam have their eyes above while the rest of the team keeps their feet on the ground.
Bucky looks to Steve apologetically. “Alright, so maybe this isn’t just like the first time.”
In his ear, Steve hears Tony’s voice crackle through the comm. “Oh, one more thing Steve.”
Steve takes a deep breath, reaching for his shield as Sam throws it to him as if it were some large, star-spangled frisbee. "What is it?"
Tony pauses. “I’m sorry I called you a liar.”
And Steve?
He can only just laugh.