Steve is nervous. More nervous than he’s been in a while. He’s pretty sure the only person he’s going to know at this party is Sam. And that’s going to suck. But, he promised Sam he’d come, so here he is, trudging up the stairs to Sam’s apartment wearing his best dress shirt and khakis. He hopes he’s not too out of place with the other people.
“Steve!” Sam says, opening the door. “So glad you could make it. Come on in!” He drapes his arm over Steve’s small frame and drags him inside the apartment.
He leads Steve over to the bar counter where he’s got three colors of plastic cups set up - blue, green, and orange. Steve is about to grab an orange one, but Sam stops him.
“Careful there. Make sure you take the right one,” Sam says. He points to the paper towel underneath the stacks.
Steve reads the words written there in Sharpie and sighs. “Really, Sam?” Under the blue stack is written TOP, under the green stack is VERS, and under the orange is BOTTOM.
“What better way to break the ice?” He claps Steve on the back, sending him forward a step.
Steve sighs and takes a blue cup, filling it with whatever alcohol is in the punch bowl. He knows he doesn’t look like a typical top - he’s only 5’7” and scrawny - and all the guys he’s dated (if he can call it that, one and done isn’t really dating) assume he’s a twinky bottom. He guesses it’s better to know up front. He shrugs and finds a wall to lean against.
He looks around the room and confirms he doesn’t know anyone else at the party, so he just sort of resigns himself to standing in a corner all night and watching from the shadows. No reason to get your hopes up.
It’s about a half hour later when it happens.
Steve spots the man as soon as he comes through the door. Tall, long hair pulled back into a ponytail, a chest that the man’s henley barely contains, blue eyes, and a bit of scruff. He’s easily five or six inches taller than Steve. He’s beautiful.
Steve scoffs. Like he has a chance. A guy like that is a top. Maybe, maybe a vers.
He watches as Sam explains to him the cup system. The man laughs and Steve watches as the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Steve now has some new spank bank material for the next few weeks. He stares as the man looks at the cup colors and chooses an orange one.
The guys is a bottom. Holy shit.
Steve watches discretely as the man surveys the room, Steve assuming he’s checking for people he knows, just like he did when he first arrived. Steve stares into his cup and takes a sip, willing the man to talk to him. Steve already knows he’s not going to make the first move.
The man stops near the only woman at the party. They hug and exchange pleasantries. Steve feels a little jealous, and his hand tightens around his cup. The side of the cup caves with a pop, but he manages not to spill any liquid. That would’ve been embarrassing. He gives the sides of the cup a squeeze to pop it back out.
He’s just about made up his mind that he’s going to leave, when he looks up and sees the man crossing the room towards him. Steve sucks in a breath as he feels heat rush to his cheeks.
“Hey,” the man says as he leans on the wall next to Steve.
“Nice to meet you, Steve.” Bucky clinks cups with Steve and takes a sip of his drink. “How do you know Sam?”
Steve prays he doesn’t trip over his tongue. “We, uh, we went to college together.”
“Sam’s my gym buddy. We work out three times a week.”
And if that doesn’t just put a picture into Steve’s head. Bucky in workout clothes, maybe a pair of bike shorts and a tank top, all sweaty from lifting weights, because this man has to lift, with his bulk. And there goes more material for the spank bank. Steve just gulps in response.
“I couldn’t help but notice your cup,” Bucky says leaning down a little so only Steve can hear him.
“Y-yours, too.” Steve nods his head towards Bucky’s own cup.
“How about we spend maybe fifteen more minutes for appearance’s sake, and then we get out of here?” He looks down at Steve and winks. Winks at him, and what is Steve supposed to do with that?
“I, uh…I’d like that,” is what finally comes out of his mouth, and he can hardly believe what he’s saying.
areudirty
theartofmadeline
