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Steve likes Tony and Tony likes Steve and at their high school graduation they realise they can’t travel down their own individual roads still holding hands. Long distance relationships are hard but Steve and Tony seem to manage. Not that Bucky doesn’t like Tony, but they’d gotten off on the wrong foot and had never bothered to rectify the situation, despite being forced to spend time together because Steve was one of those dopes who wanted to hang out with his friends all together. Which included his boyfriend and best friend, despite the chaos that often ensued when they ended up in the same room.
When Steve asks Bucky to go with him to Cambridge Friday through to Sunday to surprise Tony, Bucky spits out a half chewed wonton and chokes on the rest. Plane tickets are out of the question and Steve’s mom’s only prerequisite is that Steve have someone in the car with him to take turns driving. It takes Steve a pathetically short amount of time to make Bucky come around; he pulled out the puppy eyes early and even though he’s had up to fifteen years to develop resistance to them, Bucky was a goner within the second. Plus, Steve’s been sulking around more than usual these days and Bucky knows it’s because he misses Tony. The guy might not be Bucky’s favourite, but he makes Steve happy and Bucky can’t deny him that.
So they pack for the weekend and look into overnight motels but Bucky’s near certain that Steve’s going to be spending every minute of the trip in Tony’s bed. He shoots Rhodes a text to see if he’s got any spare room in his dorm. The only buffer to the likely trauma that this little trip was going to cause Bucky was the knowledge that he’d be able to catch up with a few familiar faces that he actually liked.
Steve is nice and lets Bucky choose the music for the entire drive, and also doesn’t complain when Bucky insists on stopping at every IHOP they pass. They reach the university late on Friday night and Steve’s thrumming excitement kind of rubs off on Bucky – which feels weird because now he’s got butterflies in his stomach but absolutely no reason for them to be there. Steve is so excited, he’s practically bounding, and forgets their bags as he rushes through the halls to find Tony’s room. Bucky trudges behind – hiding a smile because it’s nice to see Steve happy like this, but no one can know that he’s even halfway pleased to be here. Because that’ll mean he’ll be roped in to do this next time, and next time, and then one day, he’ll be the guy carrying the luggage to the Stark-Rogers honeymoon suite and Bucky was determined not to let his life fall apart that drastically.
When he eventually reaches the room, the door is flung wide open and Steve and Tony are on the floor, Steve devouring his boyfriend’s face, which – to no surprise of Bucky’s, is covered in engine-grease. God damned engineers and their lack of personal hygiene.
Bucky stands in the doorway and sighs, looking away from the reunited lovers to scan Tony’s room. It’s spacious – one of the high end dorms no doubt since Tony was here on a scholarship, and littered wall to wall to floor with technological junk. Bucky pretends he’s not impressed. But what really catches his eye is the guy perched on the edge of a study desk, a look of stricken mortification on his face at the unsuppressed teenage angst unfolding on the floor in front of him. Clearly he hasn’t witnessed Steve and Tony before; this must be one hell of a first impression.
“They might be a while,” Bucky quips, speaking to the only person who was actually switched into the world around them ie. not Steve and Tony. He unslings one bag from his shoulder, Steve’s, and tosses it into the room. “Where can you get drunk around here without spending your entire bank account?”
Having come to the realisation that he definitely didn’t want to stay in the room with Steve and Tony, the guy on the desk leaps lithely to his feet, collects his jacket and notebook and dodges the moaning mess on the floor to join Bucky at the door. “Uh, I will show you. Shall we?” He gives Bucky no other option, (which is fine because Bucky would take no other option), and shuts the door, leaving Steve and Tony to it.
Bucky appraises the new guy, noting his firm build, dark skin and low voice. Tony hadn’t mentioned how attractive his new friends were – not that Bucky spoke much to Tony apart from taking messages for Steve. Bucky’s lips twitch, and he fixes his bag more securely on his shoulder. “We shall. I’m James, but you can call me Bucky.”
On the way to the bar five blocks from campus, Bucky finds out that the guy’s name is T’Challa and that he prefers to call Bucky, James. He’s also a Prince, (yeah, like a real life fucking prince), studying at MIT to diversify his already extensive science background – though Bucky had to riddle that information out of him since he didn’t seem to like bragging much. If Bucky was both a Prince and a genius, he’d be telling the whole world, probably. T’Challa shows Bucky photos on his phone of Wakanda, where he’s from, which is all lush green and beautiful nature. He talks to Bucky about his cats, who he dearly misses and goes through three shots in row while on the subject. Bucky gets giddy just listening to him – which is fucking bizarre and shouldn’t be happening. Who was this guy, anyway? Bucky only has experience hooking up at parties, thank you, and he’s neither at a party, nor hooking up but he’s intrigued in much the same way as he would be if were taking someone home.
Bucky doesn’t end up past two beers because talking becomes too interesting. T’Challa started off quiet and reserved, speaking of only serious things like what he was studying and how his classes were going. Bucky cracked a joke about the likelihood of T’Challa and Tony’s project surviving whatever was going on in that dorm room right now which made T’Challa wrinkle his nose and Bucky thought: adorable. It gets worse when the next joke actually makes T’Challa smile – lips spreading so beautifully wide and mirth lighting up his entire face, which Bucky could pick up on even in the dim lighting off the bar. Bucky’s stomach honest to god flips. Not in the way that he was about to throw up, (which he actually might, out of pure disbelief that he was even capable of thinking these kinds of thoughts), but in the way that makes him feel like this weekend might not be so lonely after all. He takes a moment to recalibrate, and quickly sends Rhodes a text to say not to wait up, since it was nearing 1AM already, and sends Steve a message to enjoy his night, (with added crude emojis) and that he’d see him in the morning.
After that, T’Challa grabs his hand and pays for the tab, (despite Bucky’s protests – T’Challa insisted that he was a guest to the state and would thus be treated as such), and leads him back outside. The night had chilled considerably since they’d made that mad dash away from Tony’s dorm, and they’d spent a good three or four hours in that bar. Bucky had lost all intention to get drunk within the first half an hour, something he’d been dead set on doing. T’Challa was distracting, and Bucky had never even realised the bartender trying to make eye contact with him to refill his glass.
T’Challa sees Bucky shivering as they walk down the empty street. Bucky kicks a pebble as he rambles on about the bike he has back home that he’s trying to restore, and it’s not until his rant about the price inflation of bike parts ends that he realises T’Challa’s been looking at him in a weird way the whole time.
Bucky comes to a stop under a lamp post, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “What?”
T'Challa pauses, head canted slightly to the side. “If I offer you my jacket now, will it be too much of a cliché?” It looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile which Bucky thinks is an atrocity, really. T’Challa has one of the most beautiful smiles in the world, if not The Most. This, coming from a guy who’d grown up with Steve Rogers’ sweet boy scout charm. And there goes his stomach, doing those somersaults again. Like he needed another reason to be shivering. Bucky snorts and pretends like he isn’t enjoying the fact that his life had suddenly turned into 12 year old’s fantasy crush diary entry.
“No, but it would be dumb, because then you’ll be cold.” He knocks T’Challa’s elbow and keeps walking, a few strides ahead with an undeniable spring in his step. A few moments later warmed leather drapes over his shoulders and he just about harrumphs at T’Challa. “Dumb,” he calls, and T’Challa just laughs.
“Tony has spoken of you before, James,” he says, like that’s supposed to be an explanation.
Bucky almost doesn’t realise that it doesn’t explain anything because even though T’Challa had put the jacket around him, he hadn’t put the same distance between them again. Instead he walked right by Bucky’s side, shoulders brushing though his gaze was set forward.
“Really?” Bucky prompts.
T’Challa nods. “He speaks all the time of Steve. He actually doesn’t stop.” A quiet laugh that Bucky loves. “He once mentioned that Steve was not as healthy nor fit as he is today, and that you were by his side through all of it. He might not have said it in so many words, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure you are both a caring and selfless person, James.”
To that, Bucky doesn’t really know what to say. He’s surprised that Tony had even said anything remotely not mean about him. But what really stuns him is how honest and sincere T’Challa is. Surely this isn’t the kind of thing you say to a guy you met not six hours ago? And it might just be the first time Bucky’s been given a compliment of such nature – unprompted and so genuine. Plus, there’s that accent that resounds in each of T’Challa’s syllables that makes Bucky want to listen to him forever. Truth be told, there was something about T’Challa in general that makes Bucky very glad he’d come on this trip with Steve. He has an inkling of what that something is – he’s not an idiot, he knows a crush when it slaps him in the face as hard as this crush has. But it had snuck up on him so suddenly, he’s at a loss as to what to do next. T’Challa doesn’t seem like the kind of guy Bucky can just invite home, (considering home is few hundred miles away), and Bucky’s not even sure if that’s what he wants with T’Challa. He’s spent almost the whole night talking and he kind of just wants to do that some more. And maybe kiss him.
Damn it.
“Uh, thanks?” His eloquence is effected by his inner turmoil, (and the warm scent of T’Challa coming from his jacket).
T’Challa laughs softly again, and bumps Bucky’s shoulder. “I only say this because you should let other people take care of you, too. Or next time, remember to bring a jacket.”
“Hey, you talkin’ smack to me? Incredible. The Royal Prince of Wakanda himself, is an actual jackass.”
For that, he’s rewarded with a royal smile and Bucky rolls his eyes and nudges T’Challa away. The smile only widens still and later, Bucky would remember that being what broke him. What made him reach a hand out and tug T’Challa right back, and what gave him the courage to press up on the tips of his toes and mash his mouth against the Prince’s. In the moment, however, all he thinks is how the sweet tastes of their drinks mingle on their tongues, how T’Challa is still warm despite being down to a long sleeve t-shirt, and how he grabs Bucky’s waist to pull him closer.
In the end, Bucky has to send Rhodes another text saying he wouldn’t be sleeping over at all that night. They have to pass Steve and Tony’s room to get to T’Challa’s, (the light is offed and all is quiet so they must have tired themselves out with all the reuniting).
Though they’d spent the entire time retuning to the dorm touching and laughing and pretending they didn’t just want to slam into a wall and make out there forever, when they actually get there, things seem to calm down. Bucky just stands there in T’Challa’s slightly too big jacket, hair somewhat of a mess from the night out, the shorter strands falling out of the bun. T’Challa, in turn, looks just as awe swept.
“I’m leaving in a day and half,” Bucky says, because he has to mention it at some point. It wouldn’t matter if this was a one night hook up, but this is not the way hook ups are supposed to go and Bucky doesn’t want it to be a hook up. A part of him, rational, knows that it can’t be anything more.
“I guessed.” T’Challa shrugs, seemingly undisturbed. “But I would like to get to know you more, James Barnes. We could be friends.”
“Friends?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. He starts walking closer to T’Challa, stood by the bed. “I’m wearing your jacket and you groped my ass – don’t think I didn’t notice, your highness. And you want to be friends?”
“What else would you propose? You are aware of the internet, no? Of mobile phones and a concept called texting? It helps one keep in contact with anoth-” He’s shut up by Bucky practically launching himself at him, tackling him to the bed.
“Alright, smart alec.” He’s landed on top of T’Challa, and now he grins down with strands of dark hair framing his face. “Let’s be friends.” Then he leans down and kisses the other boy within an inch of his life.