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It was Bucky’s therapist, Dr. Richard Farrow’s idea, but it was also kind of Clint’s idea.
At their monthly meeting to discuss Bucky’s progress, the therapist had said that Bucky seemed eager to talk about the friends he’d made when prompted, but was still focusing mainly on stories from the past when given free reign over the conversation. Not new ones he’d recently remembered either, but ones he’d told before. There were a few about modern times, Dr. Farrow had assured Steve when his face had gone worried, but not enough. His recommendation was for Bucky to go out more. It had also been said that perhaps Steve should not go with, as most of the stories from both the past and present seemed to focus on him.
Clint had said just that same evening that he’d been by while Steve was out at the appointment to surprise Bucky with a pizza and found him watching a World War II documentary. Clint had also said that it was probably time for him to get out some, especially since Bucky had admitted to that being his third time seeing it in that day. ‘Not that you’re not great bro, but you’re the only person he ever sees,’ Clint had added after mentioning the documentary marathon. ‘Let me and Maria take him out, alright? Change of pace or whatever. Introduce him to the future or something.’
Both men left Steve feeling inordinately guilty, needless to say.
“I thought you were supposed to leave for the theatre at 5:00,” Steve said, trying not to sound upset. He watched from the kitchen as Bucky walked back and forth through the apartment.
Maria Hill and Clint Barton’s monthly (work and life allowing) movie dates had been going on for roughly the last two years, since just a few months before SHIELD had gone down. This time it was some action movie about a Greek myth, redone with spray-on abs and special effects. This time, Bucky was invited. Steve wasn’t. Such was the solution.
“I can’t find my phone,” Bucky grumbled, pushing aside the couch cushions. “They’re so small these days. Have you seen it?”
“Last I saw it, it was on the bathroom counter,” Steve shrugged and sipped at his tea, moving just his eyes as Bucky paced. Bucky groaned when Steve answered and threw both his arms up in the air.
“Why would it be in there?”
“I don’t know. Bathroom has good acoustics?”
“Hardy-har, Rogers,” Bucky paused with his hands on his hips to send Steve his very best I-am-not-amused look.
“Try the nightstand in my room,” Steve said, seriously this time.
“Oh, of course…” Bucky jogged down the hall. Steve heard his door open and close again in quick succession, and then Bucky came back with a triumphant grin on his face and his cell phone clutched in his hand. “Got it!” he announced.
Bucky was just dressed in a hoodie and jeans, but he looked better than he had in the suit he’d worn to dinner at Barbetta for Natasha’s birthday a few months ago. His hair was recently cut (more modern than the last time, and kept longer) and he’d shaved every last bit of stubble away. He looked cleaner cut than Steve had seen him since the Stark Expo a lifetime ago. He was grinning from ear to ear, clearly excited about going out to the movies, which he had always loved. It was unfair, Steve thought, that Bucky had never seemed that exited to go anywhere with him since coming back.
“Alright, have fun,” Steve waved unsteadily, plastering a fake smile on.
“I’ll try,” Bucky promised. He made an abortive move into the kitchen before stopping and hesitantly adding, “I did a perimeter sweep, too. Uh, you… should be okay. Secure. Here. Without me.”
“Of course I will be,” Steve said, putting the tea down and looking at Bucky sternly. “You don’t have to worry after me anymore, Buck. You know that.”
“Well, I always do a sweep. You know that. It’s not that I’m worried about you,” Bucky shrugged. “At least not like, being attacked. Mostly. But… are you sure you don’t wanna go to the movie?” Bucky was frowning, looking much less happy than he had just a minute ago. Steve shook his head automatically. Clint and Dr. Farrow were right, some distance would be good.
“Nah.”
“Um,” Bucky swallowed. “Alright,” he waved once in farewell and walked around the wall that once housed many mugs (and now housed only plants in plastic pots and books) with a strange, distracted look on his face.
“Say hi to Maria and Clint for me, okay Buck?”
“Uh-huh,” Steve heard the keys slide off the shelf by the door, and then the sound of Bucky leaving and locking up behind himself.
“Stevie, buddy, where are my keys?” Bucky asked. He scratched his head and turned around to look at Steve, who was curled up on the couch under the open window.
“I think you left ‘em in the bedroom. Try the bedside table drawer,” Steve replied, sketching idly. Bucky nodded and slipped into the other room.
“Thanks!” Bucky called as Steve heard the telltale jingle that meant he’d found them.
Bucky came back out of the bedroom and Steve looked up from his sketchbook for the first time in a while. Bucky was dressed as near to the nines as they could afford. His hair was slicked back perfectly and though his outfit was jacketless, his appearance didn’t suffer for it. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in the warm May air, and he was wearing the tie Steve had gotten him for some birthday or Christmas a year or two ago.
“Have fun,” Steve muttered as he scanned the length of him. He tucked his feet closer under himself on the couch and began sketching the lines of his lean torso, mostly out of habit.
“Don’t give me those baby blues,” Bucky sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Steve’s fingers froze and switched to a blank patch again. Those lines were better still. “They make a fella feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad, fella,” Steve said, looking up to offer a smile and memorize the slant of his shoulders. “I’ll be alright here.”
“You’re sure? I mean, you could come along…”
“I wasn’t invited,” Steve shrugged and scraped his pencil against the paper too hard, ruining the next page with a dent, “and I’m not some party crasher. Besides,” Steve offered up an amused smirk as he sketched out the position of Bucky’s arms, “I just won’t invite him to my birthday. That’ll show ‘im.”
“I could stay?” Bucky tried again, not taking the hint to lay off. He took a step towards Steve with the tell-tale, worried crease between his brows. Steve’s hand stopped against the paper, his reference gone. “We could play checkers or go get some pie at Annie’s?” Steve sighed and rolled his eyes.
“No, Buck. Go. Have fun and sweep those dames off their feet. Say happy birthday to Thomas for me, alright?”
“If you’re sure,” he laughed once and walked over to ruffle Steve’s hair and grip the side of his neck. His eyes went faraway and gentle as his thumb brushed Steve’s cheek. Steve’s breath caught, his fingers tightening on his pencil. “’Cause, I mean, the dames can wait…”
“Now who’s givin’ the baby blues?” Steve muttered, looking down and away. “I am sure. I’ll be just fine,” Steve patted Bucky’s hand, smiled, and looked up again, hoping it would convince Bucky to go and stop looking at him like that. Bucky slid his hand out from between Steve’s neck and palm with a big grin. There was a smudge of grey on his knuckles from where Steve’s pencil-stained hand had brushed his.
“Fine. Don’t wait up,” he said with a wink before turning on his heel and leaving, locking the door on his way out.
Steve was woken up by the sound of his phone hitting the floor. He blindly swiped along the floor for it, dangling his arm down. He squinted as he lifted it up, trying to see the screen around the glare of the TV that was still playing. He dug around in the couch for the remote so he could pause the movie and found it under the pillow under his head. He froze the frame, glancing at the bottom. He’d only been out for an hour and a half at most, according to the run time. Without the background light flickering, he peered at the phone’s lock screen.
He had seventeen new texts.
Bucky’s name was the first one on the list of ‘from’s. In a panic, he scrambled into a sitting position and unsuccessfully swiped his finger across the screen four times until he succeeded in unlocking his phone.
Bucky: Jun 04 8:07 pm
-Movie was good I think.
-Don’t remember reading it that way?
-Also don’t wait up. Going to counts for drinks.
-Clint’s*
- :)
Jun 04 8:35 pm
-Clint has a dog!
-Steve?
Steve sighed in relief and scrubbed a hand over his face before replying.
Steve: -Okay sorry for late reply
-Have fun and let me know when you are home
Bucky: -Okay!
Steve settled back into the couch cushions and started to rewind whatever he’d been watching before looking at the rest of his texts, all of which happened to be from Clint (who was notorious for mass-texting in waves and then not at all for months). Steve let one of his eyebrows go up even though no one was there to see it.
Clint: Jun 04 5:28 pm
-Ur boy’s doin great
-He’s all smile-y does he do this at home??? Creepy A.F. (as duck)
-fuck*
-omg he told a story in the car about u is it true that u got caught kissing a girl by a nun?
Jun 04 6:00 pm
-He ducking paid for Maria’s ticket. Damn u gentle man types now she’s glaring at me like wow
ok Maria sorry I was raised by a circus and not in the 20s
-Turning off phone movie’s starting
Jun 04 8:09 pm
-Didn’t even flinch at explosions in movie
-Thought you’d wanna know idk bro. Going back to mine for nightcap I’ll make sure he gets
home safe
Jun 04 8:40 pm
-Do u ever txt back omg
-broooo
Steve: -Sorry. I fell asleep.
-Thanks for the play-by-play pal
-He can’t get drunk either though just so you know.
Clint: -Aw lame
-Good 2 know tho. No drinking games lol
-Also Tasha says to stop moping and that she just knows these things so don’t ask???
Steve: -Nat is there?
Clint: -Don’t get jealous but she’s staying at my place :)
Steve: -Not jealous.
Clint: -I am tho. Ur boys stealing my dog
Steve: -Ok? Tell Nat I am fine
Clint: -Uh-huh ok bro
-Anyway Maria’s yelling at me for txtin while she’s talking so bye!
Steve’s heart sank a little at being let go. He hit play and sat back into the couch with a sigh, content to wallow a little for the rest of the evening without a warmth to his right to keep him company. This time, feeling left out was temporary, he told himself.
“You’re home late,” Steve murmured, rolling in bed to face the silhouette of Bucky loudly undressing across the room. The silhouette paused and there was just the sound of breathing for a second.
“Didn’t mean to, uh, wake you,” he said in a whisper that was a little too loud.
“It’s alright. Have fun?”
“Yeah!” Bucky breathed, stumbling as he tried to shake his leg out of his pants. “Oh Stevie, it was great!” he paused to giggle and peeled his undershirt off over his head. “Jusso y’know, Patsy James wears satin briefs…”
“Great, Buck. Good to know,” Steve sighed and rolled onto his back to glare at the ceiling.
“Don’t be that waaay,” Bucky whined, stumbling over in the dark until his knees hit Steve’s mattress. “Stevie, there was chocolate cake. And dancing. And also Thomas took a few of us that stuck around to that joint by Annie’s, so that was jus’ the berries, lemme tell ya. You woulda loooved it.”
“Fun,” Steve sighed. He glowered his hardest, but it was too dark for Bucky to see.
“Patsy says hi,” Bucky was a handsy drunk and he was showing it. One hand was petting Steve’s hair in the same way he’d done when they were kids and Steve couldn't sleep, and the other rested against his arm warmly.
“Does she even know m- Wait, you- Oh my God, stop,” Steve threw an arm over his eyes, trying to shake Bucky off him. “Go to bed, you’re annoying.”
“But I gotta tell ya since you couldn’ gooo,” Bucky continued, going as far as to climb onto the bed. “It was so fun. You shoulda gone, you shoulda. Johnny and Stan went at it at the bar and got kicked out. I stayed out of it- bet you’re proud, and got to drink real booze, not that cheap shit I get off’a that fella on fifth sometimes. I never tasted nothin’ like it and Patsy is a really great gal…”
“Steve?” Bucky whispered, pressing his hand gently to Steve’s shoulder. Steve started awake with a snort and sat upright fast enough that he almost hit Bucky in the face with his head. Bucky managed to jump back in time, though, and added a bewildered, “Jesus, sorry! I forgot, I forgot!”
“No,no, no, it’s fine,” Steve garbled, “I was wide awake, wide…” he yawned hard, “awake, Buck.”
“Uh-huh. Just wanted to let you know I’m home,” he said with a little chuckle. He returned his hand to Steve’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Thanks. Did’ja have fun?” Steve asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Yeah,” Bucky gushed, eyes going wide and bright in the slightly red light from the Netflix menu on the TV screen. “The movie was really confusing, but Clint and Maria helped me get popcorn and a soda. There’s so much you can get! I got these things called, uh, sour kids, maybe? They were awful,” Bucky laughed. “Oh! The screen, Steve! I thought TV was impressive, but this thing was amazing! It was bigger than any of the cinemas back in the forties. Something called IMAX? And- Christ, Steve, 3-D? It looked like I was there! Why haven’t we gone before?” Bucky ran out of breath and trailed off, a gigantic grin on his face.
Steve smiled sleepily back. “I’m glad you had a good time,” he said. “How was drinks?”
“Natasha made some crazy purple concoction. Clint’s place was so not what I was expecting either, he lives in this kinda run-down sorta building owned by these shady gangster-types. Oh! Steve, Clint’s dog! His name’s Lucky and he’s missing an eye, but he knows how to sit, and…”
“I am so sorry about last night,” Bucky groaned as he staggered into the main room. Steve shoved a cup of hot tea into his hand with a heavy sigh.
“Nothin’ to be sorry for… Who is Patsy, though?”
“Oh, this gal that just moved here. She’s takes violin with Johnny and Gloria Harrison and they invited her to the party.”
“But not me,” Steve bit out.
Bucky looked down at his cup glumly.
“Hello?” Steve picked up his phone.
“Hello, Mr. Rogers? This is Dr. Farrow.”
“Oh, hello. Is everything alright?” Steve leaned back in his chair, worry creeping up on him. Richard almost never called him.
“Everything is fantastic, actually. Mr. Barnes’ mood has shown marked improvement since the ‘breakthrough’ you two had at the end of last month, and even more so since he began going out with his friends more often.”
“That’s great,” Steve replied cheerfully. “Uh, but why call me about it? Our meeting’s in two weeks.”
“Well, because in this case I thought a phone call would be more efficient. I would like you to continue encouraging him go places without you. The new topics introduced in our conversation this week outnumbered the total amount introduced over all of his sessions before.”
“Oh,” Steve felt his stomach go cold and his heart warm all at once, conflicted. “I- That’s. Swell.”
“Don’t sound upset, Mr. Rogers,” Dr. Farrow sighed. “I know that it’s hard to let go after so long of him being your first priority and primary companion, but if he continues down this isolated path he may never adjust to the new century. He’s gained back his autonomy for the most part, and many if not most of his memories. I think it would be prudent to now focus on getting his new life started.”
“I’m not upset,” Steve lied, “Just- surprised. I’m glad he’s doing better,” that much was true.
“Just make sure to refrain from tagging along as much as possible, at least for the time being. And do not let Mr. Barnes know, it would be counterproductive if he became guilty about you staying behind.”
“I can do that,” Steve swallowed a lump in his throat. It was what he always used to do, after all.
“Thank you, Mr. Rogers. Have a nice day. I’ll see you on the 28th?”
“Sure thing. Bye.”
“Who was that?” Bucky asked, coming into the kitchen pulling on a sweater.
“No one important,” Steve replied, setting his phone down and putting his chin in his hand.
“Oh… alright. Anyway, I’m off to dinner. Want me to bring anything back?” he smiled sweetly as he walked past the kitchen table.
“No, I’m going to eat leftovers from when you went out yesterday,” Steve was decidedly not bitter when he said it.
Bucky paused on his way to the door and stared at Steve with a slight tilt to his head. “Dessert?” he asked, almost carefully.
“No thanks.”
“But you love their cake.”
“I’m fine,” Steve shrugged.
“Okay. Bye, Steve.”
“Did you have fun?” Steve asked without looking up. He heard Bucky’s footsteps pause.
“Yeah, actually. I danced with Patsy and she kissed me after, in front’a everyone.”
“Oh. Are you two steady?”
“I dunno yet.”
“Hey! Did you have fun?” Steve asked, tipping his head back to look over the back of the couch when he heard the front door close. Bucky was smiling as he walked over, upside down in Steve’s vision.
“I did,” he said. His eyes were bright as he leaned against the back of the couch to look down at Steve. He was soft around the edges and calm, his eyes focused on Steve and half-lidded. Steve felt his insides go warm at the sight. It had been since before the surgery that he’d seen him look anywhere near that affectionate.
“How are Maria and Pepper?” his voice was rough when he spoke. He cleared his throat.
“Fine,” Bucky replied, shifting his weight to his metal arm on the back of the couch so he could smooth out a cowlick in Steve’s bangs. “Pep complained about that robot deal Stark’s building, and Maria complained about the paperwork,” he paused to chuckle. He looked thoughtful for a moment after and stared down at Steve. He was hesitant when he said, “Maria and I are going to coffee tomorrow. She says she wants to get to know me better one on one.”
“That’s,” Steve felt his heart in his throat, “great,” he choked.
“She looked real pretty tonight,” Bucky said after a minute, his voice soft. “Had her hair down and everything,” he was staring very hard at Steve, for reasons Steve couldn't even begin to guess.
“Do you… like her?” Steve asked after a minute of stunned silence.
Unexpectedly, Bucky began giggling. “What a question. I’m gonna hop in the shower.”
“A seventh date,” Steve raised his eyebrows. “What’d you have to pay her?”
“Hardy har, Rogers,” Bucky stuck his tongue out and straightened his tie in the mirror. He turned to Steve with a sweep of his arms. “How do I look?”
“Like a million bucks, Buck,” Steve winked and Bucky chuckled, almost bashful. “Patsy’s the luckiest dame in New York.”
“Shucks,” Bucky laughed, his cheeks turning a genuine pink in the pale evening light.
“Steve, coffee is weird now,” Bucky sighed immediately as he came in the door.
“Hello to you too. Had fun, I assume?”
“Like, they make a tiny bit of super strong stuff and then they,” he ignored Steve, but flung himself down on the couch next to him, “add cream and sugar, but also flavor? And they make the milk all foamy. You can have five different kinds of milk, Steve. Five. Why does it have to be complicated? And who wants to fork over a Lincoln for coffee?”
“You never complain when we go out to coffee,” Steve said, putting down his book and looking over at Bucky, who’d settled into a loose sprawl.
“You always ordered and paid for me,” Bucky said, no inflection in his voice. Steve frowned. “I like hazelnut,” Bucky said, going a bit distant. “I also like… macchiatos…” He was staring down at his hands. That was always trouble.
“What’s a macchiato?” the question snapped Bucky back to the present, out of whatever memory he’d been reliving. He blinked twice before answering.
“I don’t actually know. Maria… I might have had her order for me.”
They both laughed and Bucky’s was hoarse.
“Since you weren't there,” Bucky added when they quieted.
Bucky breezed in the door with possibly the biggest smile Steve had ever seen on his face. Steve set the plate he’d been washing down into the bucket and braced his hands against it, looking at Bucky expectantly.
“She wants me to meet her parents!”
“Oh no. Did you get her pregnant?” Steve cocked an eyebrow. Bucky laughed giddily and shook his head.
“Naw, I know better than that. Tempting, though. Then I’d have her to do the dishes, like I got you,” he walked by Steve with a palm to his shoulder that ran slowly across his back as he passed.
“Sexist!” Steve called after him.
“Last I checked, you were a guy!” Bucky retorted.
“Lazy!” Steve amended.
“Have you ever had sushi?” Bucky asked around his toothbrush.
“No,” Steve replied. “Why?” he shut his laptop.
“That’s where Maria’s takin’ me today,” Bucky said, spitting into the kitchen sink.
“It’s fish, right?”
“Yeah, but raw, or something,” Bucky shrugged and ran the tap. “She said I should try it and it would be a nice change of pace from the burgers we had on Thursday.”
“If we did ever get married,” Bucky started, speaking at the ceiling from where he was laying on the couch.
“Married at nineteen,” Steve rolled his eyes. “How positively romantic.”
“-she’d be Patsy Grace Barnes,” Bucky glared a little.
“…Uh-huh, and?” Steve sighed, looking up from making dinner.
“If it was different, and fellas took their lady’s name, I’d be James James.”
“You’re missin’ a Buchannan there, pal,” Steve mumbled, stirring a little harder.
“You should meet ‘er,” Bucky sighed dreamily.
“So it’s definitely raw,” Bucky breezed in the door with a blast of warm air.
Steve heard the keys hit the shelf and the door close. Bucky made a beeline for the living room and sat on the couch, pressing right up against Steve’s side. He brought the smell of outside with him, his arm and thigh still warm from the sun.
“Also they serve sake, which is this Japanese rice wine. It was nice. We stopped at this bookstore Maria likes when I was walking her home, and I bought a sushi recipe book,” he set the book in Steve’s lap with a proud smile. “We should make some sometime.”
“Raw fish?” Steve made a face. “I dunno, Buck.”
“Better than you’d think. Apparently it’s an art though, so I don’t know how successful I’ll be at it. Anyway, so what trouble did you get into while I was gone?” he tapped Steve’s knee with his own.
“Nothing. I decided to stay in today. I rewatched that documentary. Did dishes,” he shrugged and flipped open the recipe book.
“You shoulda come,” Bucky pulled the book so it was on both their laps, “then you woulda seen it in person, and making it would be easier.”
“Hey! Hey, Bucky!” someone called behind them. It was Steve who turned first. A small group of girls was walking quickly up the street towards them, and the tallest of them was waving excitedly. She was a cute, curvaceous girl with bouncy brown curls and an apple-red mouth split into a smile.
When Bucky turned, his face lit up. “Hi there, Patsy!” he greeted, reaching out to catch Steve’s sleeve. They came to a halt.
“What a coincidence running into you,” she said with a coy smile. “These are my friends. You might remember Edith and Gloria?”
“Ladies,” Bucky said politely to a chorus of quiet titters from the blonde and other brunette. “This is my friend, Steve.”
“Not the one you live with?” Patsy said. Her voice was polite, but the look on her face was clearly disappointed.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Bucky said cautiously, narrowing his eyes. “He’s been my best pal since we were tiny. Ain’t that right, Steve?” he nudged Steve fondly, but his smile was stiff.
“Were?” the blonde whispered, just a touch too loud. Steve ignored it.
“Uh, yes,” Steve replied with an unsteady nod. “Nice to finally meet you, Patsy.”
“Patricia,” Patsy said curtly. “I prefer Patricia.”
“You ever heard of Mötley… Crüe?” Bucky asked. He looked up at Steve as he stabbed a potato with his fork.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s this band. I listened to ‘em some today. I think I like it.”
“That’s great, pal,” Steve shoved a bite of chicken into his mouth.
“Yeah. Uh, Tony invited us to a concert of theirs this weekend.”
“You saw Tony?” Steve frowned and looked up.
“No, I ran into Pepper, actually. This morning at the coffee place with Sam. She says Tony bought three tickets. She might have also mentioned backstage passes,” he waggled his eyebrows. “So I gave it a listen. They’re alright, we should go.”
“Oh that sounds fun,” Steve grinned. Bucky grinned back.
“So you wanna?”
“I uh,” Steve let the smile fade into something he meant to be considering but was probably sad. “Nah, Buck. I never even heard of these guys.”
“I hadn't either before today! And besides, Pepper says Tony specifically wanted you to go,” Bucky said. He poked Steve in the chest. “You have to! Apparently their pyrotechnics are the tops, and you always liked fireworks.”
“I can’t, um,” Steve pushed his plate away and stood. If he stayed he would have to lie, and Bucky would catch on because Steve was an awful liar. Steve would spill his guts like he always wound up doing, and Bucky would be mad that his therapist and Steve were making plans for him behind his back. “I uh, it really doesn't seem like something I would like.” His plate clattered when he tossed it into the sink.
“Steve, you barely ate-” the worried crease was beginning to form between Bucky’s eyebrows.
“I’m gonna shower,” Steve said a few octaves too high, scampering out of the room.
“Patsy and I are through,” Bucky blurted across the table. Steve froze with a bite of Annie’s famous apple pie almost into his mouth.
“What?” he blinked.
“Patsy and I split,” Bucky repeated, looking down gloomily at his coffee.
"That’s no good,” Steve sighed and put his fork down on his plate. He leaned forward over the table to pat Bucky’s arm. “What happened? She finally realize you’re all smooth with no suds?”
“Aw, Steve, don’t tease so quick. She… Now see, you can’t get mad, is the thing,” Bucky said in a warning tone, looking up at Steve and fidgeting with his napkin. “I don’t need you cross at me, too.”
“Why would I be mad at you for breakin’ up with a girl?” Steve’s curiosity and suspicion were piqued. He narrowed his eyes a little. “Come on, spill.”
"Well… she said she didn’t want me goin’ out in public with you anymore,” Bucky said slowly. His eyes darted away from Steve and back briefly, as if to gauge his reaction.
Steve went tight-lipped. Of course. “Oh,” he said like he’d said the time before, and the time before that.
“And of course I told her I just couldn’t do that. And she asked why, so I told her that you were my best pal and my roommate and I can’t just not go places with you!”
Bucky’s words picked up speed as his anger came back to incense them. He was starting to gesture as he spoke, attracting the attention of the waitress across the diner.
“And she said that she just couldn’t go with a fella who’s got some wet smack taggin’ along everywhere. So I said I’d rather have you taggin’ along than some judgmental harpy. She slapped me in front of the whole place and made tracks cryin’ her eyes out. So unless that’s girl speak for ‘catch you next week for dancing’, I think we’re well and through,” he shrugged, stiff and angry, and refused to look up at Steve.
Steve was stunned silent for a moment. Then the words all registered and he reached across the table to slap Bucky right across the cheek. “You don’t call girls harpies, Buck!” he hissed.
“That’s what’s got you pissed?” Bucky crowed, holding a hand to his cheek and turning pink in the face. He looked positively scandalized, and the waitress was obviously trying not to giggle as she dried glasses behind the counter.
“Yes! Patricia was a swell gal! You don’t call a lady names, Buck!”
“But she was callin’ you names! Swell gals don’t call names!”
“That doesn’t matter, Bucky!” Steve sighed and put his face in his hands. His next words were muffled, “Thank you though, I guess.”
“Just defendin’ my best guy’s honor,” Bucky chuckled, rubbing at his cheek. “Damn, and don’t he got a smack on him.”
“I downloaded an app!” Bucky announced triumphantly as he wandered into the kitchen with his hair a disaster and stripped down to his shorts.
“Congratulations?” Steve said blearily, only two sips into his coffee that didn’t do much with his metabolism anyway, and not ready to contend with the energy Bucky miraculously had. Steve vaguely wondered how he was so awake when he’d been out with Tony and Rhodey (in Steve’s stead) until something like two in the morning.
“It’s neat, look,” Bucky shoved his phone under Steve’s nose. “If I hit this button, it tells me what song’s playing! It tells you the title and the artist and the lyrics! Tony had me download it for the concert, since they were playing all kinds of songs over the radio before the band went on. Go on, sing somethin’, it does just singing too!”
“The only song I can sing with any sort of accuracy is Star Spangled Man, and I know you don’t wanna hear that,” Steve groaned through a grin.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” Bucky teased with a shove to Steve’s shoulder. “Would it help if I found you some blue tights?” his lips quirked slyly.
“No!” Steve yelped out a laugh. He shoved Bucky’s favorite mug across the table at him. “So how was the show, anyway?”
Bucky picked it up with a thoughtful hum, his smirk lingering. He braced his metal hand against the table and cocked one hip. “The guys in the band were interesting.”
“Interesting?” Steve repeated.
“Well one of ‘em was this blonde fella that looked like he’d had some of that plastic surgery,” Bucky shook his head and sipped at his coffee, “One guy was ancient. The other two of ‘em were tall- taller than you, and all four guys were all tattooed and had this crazy makeup on.”
“What kind of makeup?” Steve scrunched his nose, trying to imagine.
“It was like warpaint, I guess,” he shrugged again. “The drummer was Tony’s friend and he… uh, recognized me…” Bucky stared off into his coffee for a minute, dangerously close to distant. “Said he read the Cap comics as a kid. Saw the Smithsonian exhibit last year.”
“Oh jeez,” Steve’s eyebrows went up. “Sorry, pal. I know you don’t want the public to know you’re back from the dead yet.”
“It’s alright. None of the other guys heard him and Tony made him promise to be quiet about it.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Yeah… He uh, asked where you were.”
“You gotta stop breaking up with girls for me,” Steve sighed, nudging Bucky with his elbow as they walked.
“I can’t date a dame who doesn’t like you,” Bucky said firmly. “I can’t do it, Steve.”
“I don’t think gals will ever like me,” Steve said with a shrug. “I’m not exactly a great guy to be seen with. They date you, you hang out with me, everyone’s reputation suffers for it.”
“But you’re a great guy,” Bucky huffed, getting indignant and stubborn like he always did when the topic of Steve’s social standing came up. “I don’t get why none of ‘em can see it.”
“I’m not so great, Buck. That’s the point. And I don’t need the guilt,” he grimaced.
“You are great, Steve,” Bucky said. He stopped and grabbed Steve’s sleeve. “You’re gonna be a helluva catch for some equally amazing gal one day, alright? And I don’t wanna have settled for some girl so shallow she can’t see past your height, when you end up with the perfect woman. As for bein’ guilty? Well you better just stop that now because, as for my reputation? You’re the only one whose opinion I could care less about.”
“Hey there, fella,” Steve greeted. He scooted forward so Bucky could climb up behind him. “How was your session?”
“I fired him,” Bucky said bluntly, practically throwing himself onto the second seat.
“You- what?” Steve almost knocked the motorcycle over as he whipped around to look at Bucky.
“I fired Dr. Farrow,” Bucky was pissed; it was clearly etched into the lines of his face.
“Why?” Steve stared him down in bewilderment. “You’ve been seeing him for a year!”
“Let’s just go home,” Bucky mumbled, pressing up close to Steve and putting his forehead against Steve’s neck. His arms snaked around Steve’s waist, fingers digging into the leather of his jacket.
“Alright,” Steve agreed. “Okay.” He started his bike.
“I’ll just date a girl like you. Petite and scrappy with a heart too big for her chest,” Bucky said into the space between their beds. “Problem solved.”
Steve’s stomach flipped.
“Go to sleep, you egg.”
“Okay, now can we talk about why you fired him?” Steve asked as soon as the door was shut.
“Yeah,” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his windswept hair. “Yeah, okay. But the thing is, you can’t get mad. Or guilty- I know you,” he leveled a stern look Steve’s way.
“Well,” Steve grunted in frustration, “I can’t really promise not to feel a certain way, especially since you just implied the reason has to do with me, but I probably won’t be mad. We can just hire you a new therapist.”
“Good enough,” Bucky took a deep breath. “Okay, so,” he rubbed the back of his head. “We were talkin’ about my week like we always do, and then he asked me, ‘how have you and Steve been lately’, like he does every once in a while. I um,” he hesitated and winced when he looked at Steve, “I told him that you’ve been distant and don’t seem to want to go out anymore. Which you have been, don’t look at me like that!”
“I haven’t meant to seem distant,” Steve mumbled, slouching forward.
“But you have,” Bucky said, but there wasn’t a trace of accusation in his voice. “You haven’t left the apartment except to go grocery shopping in almost a month, Steve! This isn’t still about,” he swallowed, “About me almost leaving, is it?”
“No! No, no no. I promise. It’s just- I haven’t, I mean…” Steve scrambled to find an answer.
“Steve, you’re a bad lair before you even start,” Bucky sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Dr. Farrow told me what he told you to do. I just had to make sure you weren’t still mad in addition to that.”
“Buck- I’m sorry,” Steve said in a rush, “Please don’t be mad, I didn’t mean to go behind your back! He was just worried that I was keeping you from makin’ a new life because I was all you talked about and Clint-”
“He said that when I seemed to be happier, he told you to keep keepin’ your distance,” Bucky continued like Steve hadn’t spoken at all. “He said that he told you to stop going out with me and our pals,” Bucky’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed.
“Bucky, he was right! You were so much happier,” Steve sighed and leaned against the wall. He put his face in his hands. “And now it’s ruined, Jesus. I’m sorry…”
“Steve, I never wanted to leave you out!” Bucky said, exasperation making him fling his arm out in a wild gesture. He took a step towards Steve. “This is just like you. You want me to go out and have fun and then you stay in by yourself because you think you’ll, what, hold me back, or some crap like that?”
“Well back then, I did hold you back,” Steve retorted. He crossed his arms, “Some things never change, I guess.”
“Yeah, like your thick skull,” Bucky grunted. He poked Steve in the chest, but there was no anger when he added, “The thing you never get is that I always have more fun when you’re around.”
“It’s just- you never seemed this happy when we would go out,” Steve said. “Besides, I’m not exactly the best person to show you what this century has to offer.”
“So you seclude yourself? Christ, Steve,” Bucky shook his head. “I think… I’m just happier in general now,” he shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got a new arm,” he flexed his fingers and a smile crept onto his lips, “new friends, a new apartment… new old memories, and I’ve gotten better. I’m less focused on getting memories back now. I still have nightmares, sure, and I still get lost in my own head sometimes, and I can’t keep from cataloguing everything I see in case we’re attacked, and I can’t…” he trailed off for a moment. “But… I am getting there.”
“Bucky,” Steve found himself smiling, too. Dr. Farrow had said as much, but it was nice to hear the more personal, hopeful version from Bucky himself.
“Now I can focus more on recreating a life,” Bucky continued. “My happiness lately has nothing to do with you being out of the picture! If anything, you helped me get here, Steve. The reason all I talked about was you still was ‘cause sometimes I still gotta convince myself I deserve you, I guess. Gotta remember all those times I patched you up and forced you to go out, right?” he elbowed Steve, but he was refusing to look at him after the confession.
“So you fired him…?” Steve lifted an eyebrow to cover up the stupid grin threatening to split his face in half.
“He thought you were a problem,” Bucky sneered. “Jesus, Rogers, you’re the farthest thing from it. Not only did he insult you, he was also wrong about… basically everything. Besides, he used to work for SHIELD. He can’t be that great of a psychologist, can he?”
“I guess not,” Steve said, the grin creeping up onto his face despite his best efforts.
“There we have it then,” Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder and let his hand rest there. “Now that that’s fixed, come to dinner with me and Maria tonight. We’re going to the place with the apple pie you like. I can make a quick call to change the reservation.”
“But- that’s not. Bucky, that’s different,” Steve made a face, smile disappearing. “I don’t wanna be a third wheel and I don’t have a girl to take. I mean, I’ve been too busy to meet girls- maybe Natasha would go, but it’s pretty late notice and we aren’t exactly like that, you know…”
“…What?” Bucky’s face fell. “Steve do you think that I’m… having sex with her, or something?”
“Well- no, not- No not,” Steve felt heat creeping up the back of his neck. “I just thought, not se- not that kind of thing, I mean-” he cut himself off before he could say something else stupid.
“No,” Bucky groaned. “No, no, Stevie, you got it all backwards. Maria’s not lookin’ for a steady fella- or anything right now! I mean, if anything, she’s got her eyes on Sam! We’re just pals!” Bucky was slowly turning pink at the apple of his cheeks, always the perfect blusher. Not like Steve, who blushed with his whole body.
“Oh! Oh,” Steve knew he was tomato red by now, probably all the way down his chest. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”
Bucky muttered something angry under his breath and rolled his eyes. Before Steve could ask what he said, Bucky had a hold of his wrist.
“I ain’t lookin’ for anybody either,” he said. There was a twist to his mouth that fell somewhere between frustrated and sad as his thumb brushed along the veins in Steve’s wrist. “Thought you woulda figured that…” Bucky swallowed, staring down at where he was holding Steve’s wrist.
“Guess not,” Steve shrugged uselessly. His heart was hammering and he hoped Bucky couldn’t feel it.
“Come to dinner,” Bucky repeated.