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The phone ringing woke Bucky up from his liquor-induced sleep, and into the painful wakefulness of the hungover-sad-sucker-who-got-laid-out-and-wasted-the-last-of-his-savings-into-mid-week-self-pitying-drinking, which was a very real feeling that affected the majority of his generation, so why the hell there was not a better, short name for that, specifically?
His alcoholic lizard brain could only come with one problem at hand, however, and out of the ones he could fix, silencing the phone and letting the call go to voicemail was more easily accomplished. Who the fuck called in the goddamned 21st century? Bill collectors and scammers, that’s who. And since Bucky didn’t owe anyone (anymore) and had no wish to dig himself into that hole again, he just didn’t bother picking up, thank you.
He half turned on the bed and pressed the side buttons of his phone haphazardly, lifting his head just enough to be able to see who was calling - an unknown number from out of state, further evidence supporting his theory that it was a collector - and the time, a bit past 11am.
Pros of being unemployed: sleeping in, he thought, smushing his face on his pillow again, not even bothering with the wet drool spot his left cheek landed on.
Blissful silence only lasted about two minutes however, before someone started urgently knocking on his door. Bucky groaned, covering his head with his pillow. Anyone he’d want to see would either call beforehand - and not from an unknown number - or just let themselves in, so whoever was on the door was not someone he wanted to see. If Bucky stayed very still and very silence (which was the entirety of his plans for the whole day, so yay for productivity), the person would go away.
Whoever was on the other side of the door, however, was really intent on reaching him, for the knocking started anew after a minute of silence where Bucky, naively, believed his rude visitor had taken the hint and gone away.
That was enough to set Alpine off as well. The cat resurfaced from whatever hole he had been hiding himself into and joined the knocking on the door with loud meows, jumping on the bed right onto Bucky’s back and kneading him on a clear demand for Bucky to fix the disturbance to his cat nap.
“I feel you, buddy. I, too, want to kill the asshole knocking on the door” he commiserated with the cat, scratching the white fur as he got up and paddled barefoot to the door, putting no effort into looking presentable for unwanted guests.
He should have known that whole week was out to get him tho, for it was just his lucky that he would open the door looking like an extra in a zombie show with the bad breath to match, to find who was possibly the hottest person - including both males and females - he had ever seen, standing in front of his door.
The guy was around as tall as Bucky, tho that was difficult to tell for sure from the distance they stood from each other. His dark hair was artfully messy, like he hadn’t bothered to do more than run his fingers through the hair, and yet not a single strand was out of place. His beard, tho, spoke of careful grooming, styled possibly with the help of a measuring tape to reach that level of symmetry on a design that was so little practical. Given the expensive suit the guy was wearing, it was possible he could afford some sort of high-tech laser razor that trimmed his beard to perfection and also made him coffee in the mornings. Bucky bet his sunglasses alone cost more than Bucky’s old bike.
Which led to the question of what a dude that looked like he had just stepped out of the pages of a classic Hollywood film was doing knocking on the door of a rat hole apartment in Brooklyn.
“Good morning. I’m here for Mr. James Barnes” The man asked, and if Bucky’s appearance had put him off, he didn’t let it show. In fact, his speech was polite, pleasant even, when he continued without giving Bucky a chance to reply. “Sorry for dropping unannounced. In my defense, I did try to call beforehand, but no one picked up, and it’s kind of an emergency, so I got your address from Steve”.
“Steve?” Bucky asked dumbly, trying to make heads out of tails from the situation.
“Steve Rogers. Tall blond dude with a bad fashion sense? He’s the one who gave me your phone to begin with” The stranger finally showed a sign of impatience in his tone. “I’m sorry, are you not Mr. Barnes?”
“I prefer Bucky” he confirmed, trusting Steve not to have given his home address to a serial killer. “But why did Steve give you my phone number, or my address?”
Clark Gable dude removed his glasses, neatly folding them and putting on the breast pocket of his suit. “My name is Tony Stark. I’ve got a job offer for you”, he clarified, but looked uneasy about it. “Do you mind if I come inside to talk about it? It’s nothing illegal and I pay well” he added quickly, seeing obvious suspicion on Bucky’s face.
Well, it was not every day that a job offer knocked on his door looking like something straight out of a porno, so he stepped aside to let Tony inside.
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The job, as it turned out, was an acting job. Tony’s best friend was getting married, and Tony needed someone to be his plus one to the five-days event at a romantic resort and pretend to be his loving boyfriend so said best friend wouldn’t get on his case. It was all very Reese Witherspoon movie style.
Which would all be fun and games if Bucky was actually an actor, and not a musician.
(He had found out that Tony had asked Steve for the contact of “one of his artisy friends”, and Steve interpreted that very liberally. He would have words with Steve, once he was back home. For now, he stuck him with cat-sitting and let Alpine be punishment enough).
But for the kind of money Tony was offering, Bucky would have accepted the job even if it was illegal. As it was, he just had to fly to a small nation in Africa, where the event would take place, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t have a job, or anyone waiting for him back at home, and Tony was footing the bill for the whole trip.
Not to mention Tony, who made the whole deal sweeter. Tony had been adamant on getting to know each other beforehand, taking Bucky out on fake dates around the city on the days before their trip. “I’ve been told I’m an acquired taste”, he had said, with a grimace.
The few hours he had passed in his company, Bucky became quite sure he wouldn’t have any trouble pretending to be a loving boyfriend to Tony. Tony wasn’t just a hot dude straight out of a porn fantasy, he was also a sweet dude out of a… well, a Reese Witherspoon romantic movie.
At first, it was weird to have a guy who might as well be a celebrity, opening doors or pulling chairs for him, like Bucky was something precious to be cherished. And if that was restricted to your classic chivalry, Bucky could have passed it off as pretending, but he would have to be an oscar-winning actor to pretend the level of caring Tony displayed. It was sometimes off-putting to be on the receiving end of his focus, to be paid attention to like he was the most interesting person in the world and Tony couldn’t fathom anything else he would rather be doing than talking to Bucky.
Bucky felt like he was the one paying thousands for a perfect boyfriend, and soon came to the realization that Tony was just that good of a person. He could see how he’d have a hard time finding an actual, real loving boyfriend when he gave so much. It was easy for vultures to see something that good and take advantage of it.
“We are here” Tony’s voice brought him back from his silly daydreams, at the same time their car stopped in front of the house where they would be staying. Tony wasted no time in getting out of the car, offering Bucky a hand to help him out.
When Tony said his friend - James, just like himself - was marrying a prince, he imagined the decadent opulence of rich people measuring dicks. If he had been expectant for that, he would have been sorely disappointed: The house itself wasn’t bigger than your average rental, glass and metal combined seamlessly with straw, stones and wood in a mix of modern and rustic that worked tastefully in its simplicity.
“Cute” Tony said by his side, touching the small of his back to guide him inside while the driver took care of their luggage, making a shiver run up Bucky’s spine.
That was something else about Tony, the casual touches. During the whole process of “acquiring Tony taste”, there were subtle touches to Bucky’s back or elbow when he wanted to guide him somewhere, but it was such a gentle suggestion, lacking in forcefulness, that Bucky felt comfort rather than annoyance at it.
Stepping inside the house felt like stepping into the happy couple’s honeymoon suite. The living space wasn’t so bad, per se, but it was obvious the main room in the house was supposed to be the one bedroom, with the one bed that had a canopy and flower petals scattered on the mattress, and champagne on ice waiting for them. Outside the window, he could see a mini spa with what he thought was a hot tub.
Tony had told him upfront that he was bisexual. When Bucky asked why he didn’t hire a girl instead, Tony had said something about straight passing and gender power dynamics that Bucky fully understood now that he realized he’d have to share a bed with Tony, at least in theory. Practically speaking, he realized he didn’t mind quite much sharing a bed with Tony.
“Rhodey apologises for not meeting us here, and to enjoy the room while he’s out. Apparently the life of a consort is busier than he expected” Tony informed, reading a card by the champagne.
Bucky swallowed hard, suddenly very conscious of Tony. He was halfway smitten with him already. And, if he read things right, Tony at least liked him as well. Time to step up his game, it seemed.
“And how do you propose we do it?” Bucky asked, voice rough. Tony whipped his head up to look at him, losing the finesse that Bucky associated him with.
“We could, uh, watch TV” he suggested, but Bucky could see the offer was not genuine. Bucky stalked to him, stopping right outside of his personal space under the excuse of grabbing the champagne bottle.
“Or we could take this champagne to the hot tub outside” he suggested with a smirk. “That is, if that’s something you are interested in.”
“I am!” Tony was quick to agree, but not so much to get closer. “It’s just... Power dynamics, y’know. I’m basically your employer. I couldn’t, uh, start anything”.
Bucky smiled, taking the final step into Tony’s personal space to grab Tony’s tie and tug him forward.
“Well, good thing I’m starting it” he said against Tony’s lips, and tugged him into a kiss, making a mental note to send Steve a gift card or something when he got back home.
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Or maybe a lifetime supply of gift cards, he thought later that night, once they had finally left the hot tub.
But he was still cat-sitting.