occasionally subtle
#extradirty
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Claire Keane
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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@stevecandothisallday-blog
hey guys! It’s been a busy weekend. Planning on replying tomorrow bright and early. Sorry for the delay, but I’ve been seeing old friends and such. somehow summer is more busy than expected. Replies to be done tomorrow as soon as I can. Please be patient with me <3
Picking up strays - Closed
The Asset watched carefully, quickly assessing his options. Clearly, he wasn’t getting far on his own, and if he didn’t accept help, authorities were liable to be called. That was unacceptable. If his handlers hadn’t come, there was a good chance they weren’t going to. Perhaps they thought he was dead. That left it to him to get back to them on his own, which he was in no shape to do currently.
That just left this guy, who could maybe be of use after all. He pressed his lips together in a tight line and nodded, hardly saying a word. Now to get to his feet. It was a process, the Asset’s jaw clenching in pain that reached right through his conditioning as he scrabbled at the wall for support in getting to his knees. Eventually, he got his feet under him, but his balance was precarious, and there was still blood gleaming wetly under the light, smeared across his leather vest. When he spoke, his voice was a soft, pained rumble. “No hospitals.”
Steve watched the guy carefully, a little unsettled, as the other didn’t look to be doing well at all. As much as he wanted to help....he also had no idea how he was going to do that. He was no doctor, and yet this stranger had already ruled that out, frustratingly enough. Not that Steve could blame him. He himself hated hospitals. He had watched his ma fade away in one..and his own illnesses brought him there all too frequently.
He sighed. “Alright. No hospitals. But you’re gonna have to tell me if you need help with any of that. You good to walk on your own, or do ya need help?” Even if, strictly speaking it would probably not be the best plan he had ever come up with, Steve could still support the guy. Probably. He always did take on tasks that were more difficult than they needed to be. Bucky used to- no. He wouldn’t let himself think about his best friend.
“Either way, if we head this way, we’re goin’ straight for my place. Hope you’re up for the walk.” He could hear something like a voice that could have been Bucky in his mind telling him how hypocritical he was. But again, he chose to ignore it in favor of helping this man.
Bucky had half expected his new acquaintance - Steve - to tell him to buzz off. He would have, of course, but he was glad not to have to. His coffee was a convenient way to buy himself a minute, and Bucky took that for all it was worth, sipping at his mug and watching Steve over the rim.
“So, you’re an artist?” He asked, head cocked with interest. It seemed like a good thing to start with. After all, he’d interrupted what had looked to be some very intensive work. That reminded him… “Is it too nosy of me to ask what you were working on?”
Steve gave him a bit of a look, almost as if to say ‘what gave you that idea?’ though at least he didn’t outright say it. Steve was still bristling a little, but he was trying to relax now and sip that coffee of his that wouldn’t sit too well, but would keep him more alert.
“Yeah...I graduated from NYU. Got an art degree. I know, makes shitty money, but it’s what I love doing.” His apartment was a dump, and it didn’t keep him very warm in the winter, but he got to do his commissions. “I was just working on one of my commissions. They asked me to draw their fiance, for a wedding gift or something. You’re welcome to look at it if you don’t spill.”
The amount of sass thrown back against him right now. Sheesh. Taking in a gulp of air, Steve let it out slowly to not have an ‘outburst’ with himself. Wrapping his head around this proved more difficult than he first imagined. ❝I know but if we don’t figure this out, you might make that TRUE,❞ Steve argued, arms folded tightly against his chest. ❝If you just come with me, we can figure this out, alright?❞ He needed Steve safe and there were too many unknown variables out on the street. What if some villain discovered the truth? What if something happened to other Steve and it happened to him too?
( what a headache. )
❝Come on, I’ll introduce you to nutella. It’ll change your life.❞
There was a brief moment where he had hoped this other Steve would blow up at him. He wasn’t itching for a fight necessarily, but he was upset enough that he might be tempted to try it. Though he would probably die. This other self was giant. A disgruntled look quickly made its’ way onto Steve’s face. “I’m not that dumb. I’m not gonna just keel over and die.” He scowled at the other, frankly annoyed that he got to make the decisions for them both.
Steve eyed him warily. “What the hell is nutella?” He asked, though he finally gave up. His other self knew this city better than Steve did. It bothered him tremendously, but for the time being...”fine. Let’s go.” His shoulders slumped a little at that. It felt like giving up.
❝Least nobody’s losin’ ya,❞ Stewart answered with a smirk playing at his lips. ❝Betcha nearly glow in the dark with these uniform on. You’ll have to show me later.❞ The bitterness melted away somewhat with actually being with Steve but he still wished the Doctor managed to give him the serum too. Who would watch Steve’s six without him around? Stewart always made sure to keep an eye on Steve, being the steadier of the two. He didn’t have as many insecurities and didn’t have as much of an issue with his appearance. It only prevented him from helping more in the war effort and there rested his frustration.
The description of PEGGY made him nod his head, giving a little hum of remembrance. ❝Shoulda known that’s the one who’d catch your eye,❞ Stewart responded with a small chuckle. Steve always gravitated towards the people who could kick his ass all over the place. Stewart, however, existed on the completely opposite spectrum and preferred a little more softness. Fire against fire only made everything burn. ❝I’ll ask her if she likes ya,❞ Stewart teased, waggling his eyebrows. He didn’t have as much shyness as Steve either.
( his hang ups mostly existed with SELF WORTH && believing he deserved things. )
❝I wanna see him.❞ Stewart refused to believe Bucky wouldn’t be the same asshole they always knew him to be. ❝Is he in the infirmary still?❞
“At least not right now.” Steve added with a laugh. “I promise i’ll show ya soon. As soon as we’ve got a little time.” Being separated from Stewart had been...hard. Steve had always known that he was a bit more sensitive to what people said. There were times where he felt guilty, because he knew there were areas his brother would do far better than him. It got him to wonder about how much better Stewart would have been about rescuing the men from the camp. And then he shook himself out of that train of thought. It wouldn’t help.
“You have to admit she’s somethin’ else.” Steve replied, still thinking back to how Peggy Carter had shot at him and frankly terrified him a little. But she was also the most impressive dame he had ever met. There had been no one else like her. His eyes went wide at the thought of Stew approaching her and his cheeks and ears turned red. “No. No don’t uh...I’d rather ya didn’t Stewie. Please.” If anything was going to happen between him and Peggy Carter, it would be because Steve took action, and not because his twin brother said something to her.
Steve had to do some things on his own. Steve let out a sigh. “He is...but...fine. He’ll probably be happier to see you anyway.” Seeing as Stewart was still the same. He hadn’t gone and confused Bucky with what had been done to him. “Come on then. But don’t expect everything to be the same as it was.” Was Steve’s only warning before he started off toward the infirmary, expecting Stewart to follow him.
Flickers~
Panic churned in his stomach and it was clear from the way his eyes darted from side to side that every instinct was telling him to run but somehow, for whatever reason, he was refusing to move. Steve. Steve was his reason and while he wasn’t well enough at all to comprehend the details of that justification, he knew with certainty that whatever Steve wanted, the As- James would try to give it to him. Even something as impossible as getting his old friend back was slowly becoming possible with his limited means.
“I…I don’t know what makes me comfortable…” He whispered hoarsely, voice barely audible as he hunched his muscled torso over further, effectively folding his frame into a small as position as possible, regardless of the watchful eyes of the museum’s other occupants. He only had eyes for Steve, his salvation, and the only person who had shown him kindness in over seventy years. It was a lot to process that he was older than he looked and had barely aged but at least he wasn’t alone in that respect, and it seemed like he would never have the chance to be alone now, not that he wanted to be. He’d had decades of being alone unless he was being prepped or on a mission, and while he didn’t know how to label it right now, he craved contact from Steve.
The tiny pieces of food that he’d sneaked from various dumpsters and bins held very little in terms of nourishment, for a human nevermind a super-solider slash assassin, and it was obvious that a lack of food, sleep and safety were slowly taking their toll on the young man. He staggered with every stumbling footstep, arms wrapped tightly across his flat stomach in a squeezing grim, face contorted with pain every time a hunger pang twisted inside of him. But Steve had offered food, and so it was with one painful step after the other that he trailed obediently after him, his steps a little lighter than they had been when under Hydra’s neglectful care.
This entire situation was well beyond Steve, but he did as he always did when it came to Bucky. James. He just jumped right in to try to help him, even if he didn’t really know how to do that. There was a certain discomfort he felt in knowing that one wrong word, or move could send James running. One mistake, and Steve would go back to worrying over where his friend was, sleepless nights where he fixated on the possible directions James had gone in. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another round of that.
He knew it wasn’t healthy. Sam repeatedly told him it wasn’t healthy. But here he was, plastering on a smile when he could, and trying to encourage James as best as he could. “That’s okay too. We’ll figure it out...alright James?” Steve turned so he could give him a warm smile, trying to help relax the guy, regardless of his own fears. For the time being, Steve’s fears were irrelevant. James needed him, and in this case, Steve was going to do his damn best to actually be there for him. He hadn’t always been able to in the past, but today was going to bring about a change in that regard.
He let out a relieved sigh once he had seen that James was actually still following him, and then he continued forward until he got to his current apartment, smaller than the one that had been filled with bullets, but it also didn’t have any bugs. Steve had damn well made sure of that before he had properly moved in. He also wouldn’t allow any agents to get near his place again. His trust in people had steadily been going down the more time went on, and it tore at something with him. He wasn’t sure how to be the person that people expected him to be and yet still keep a reasonable distance from those that might be too politically motivated. He glanced over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. “Would you want to eat anything specific? I can make pasta.” That was really about the only thing Steve could make, but that wasn’t something he needed to mention.
Looking at the uniform, Stewart nodded his head a few times. ❝Very ‘I’m patriotic America’. Somethin’ I’m sure they were goin’ for.❞ He paused. ❝I ain’t ever done makin’ fun of you. It’s how I show my brotherly love.❞ Teasing Steve came as naturally to him as breathing and he didn’t really know any other way around it. The time they had spent apart had been more difficult than he wanted to admit to. But nothing would be the same now and he’d just have to find a way to get used to it. ❝You were sayin’ somethin’ bout a dame? You finally find someone to catch your eye?❞ Stewart pushed himself off the wall, looking around the corner to see if he could see the dame in question. He didn’t really know what Steve’s type would be or anything bot he’d tease regardless. The guilt returned when he thought about the letters again. ❝I’ll write ya this time, you big ooaf, don’t you worry.❞ He would have to make up for all the lost time. ❝Have you seen Buck? Someone else I miss teasin’ bout.❞
Steve couldn’t help but snort at that. He might have been annoyed, but he also missed the banter between the two of them. “Oh they were. Nothing says fightin’ Nazis like wearing a huge target on your back to announce you.” He rolled his eyes. “So that’s how it is, huh? I see. ‘Cause sayin’ it the normal way is just too hard right?” But he wouldn’t hold it against him. Steve was pretty similar on that. And he had missed his brother to take any shit he gave him really.
His eyes lit up, and a small smile spread across his face. “Yeah...yeah she’s somethin’ else Stew. She..I think you might’ve met her when we were still trainin’, before the serum. She punched Hodge.” He wasn’t even sure that Stewart would remember, but Peggy had left quite the impression on Steve. She was unlike any other dame he had met.
“I wasn’t worried.” He was a little bit, but he didn’t have to admit it. “i know you’ll write.” He also knew, even if he had been worried, that Stewart hadn’t meant to ignore his letters. Or at least, he was fairly sure of that. “I don’t know why you do. You know I can tease ya plenty about him too. But he’s...different. You know I helped get him out of a...a prison camp. He’s fine, but he’s not gonna be the same as we knew ‘im.”
Of course, the OTHER Steve ran off. He’d do the very same if he received information like this. Grumbling under his breath, he took off as well, ignoring everyone who told him to stop and think about this. What could they think about? His other self could get hurt and where would it leave both of them if he did? They were obviously linked to one another and if one of them fell into danger, would it harm the other one? It picked up his heartbeat, causing a wave of panic to flood through his mind. ❝Would you stop!❞ Steve demanded, reaching out to curl his fingers carefully around other Steve’s arm to make him stop trying to run. ❝You’re going to cause an asthma attack at this rate and don’t really need that.❞ Either an asthma attack of a panic attack, neither option being decent whatsoever. ❝Can you just - come back to my apartment. We can talk. I can show ya some stuff.❞ He’d deny forever the pleading tone slipping into his words. He didn’t plead or beg for anything - EVER.
Steve’s listening skills hadn’t really improved tremendously. But at least he could blame it on the deafness in his left ear. And the fact that he was somewhere unfamiliar, dazed, confused, and not in the mood to have a conversation with the other. Looking at him was like looking at everything he ever dreamed of, but knew that he couldn’t be. Or he thought at least. If he weren’t so determined to get back to Bucky, he probably would have asked the guy about it.
Admittedly, he couldn’t have gotten much further anyway, though he would hate to admit it to anyone but himself. And even that had him grumbling. “Does anyone ever need an asthma attack?” He asked, echoing the other’s words and glaring up at him. He knew that he couldn’t fight this guy off. As much as he was starting to want to take a swing at him. But how counter productive would it be to try to fight himself? “I have to get back. Bucky...Bucky won’t know where I went. He’ll think I’m dead Steve.”
Flickers~
The Asset didn’t know how to smile but looking at Rogers with sunshine radiating from him made him want to learn in order to never make him sad again. He didn’t remember much from who he was before, just fractures and flickers of a forgotten past constantly replaying in his mind but he knew that when he’d hurt Steve before, it had felt wrong. At least now, he knew why but he was still attempting to accept the fact that he was more than a weapon, that he was human.
“James. It’s…it’s not right, though? You never called him…me…James?” He frowned and ducked his head down so that unwashed strands of his stringy hair tumbled down to obscure his face, and he willingly hid away behind the self-created curtain as he tried to control his breathing. A warm feeling unfolded in his stomach at Roger’s kind words and he peered through a gap in his hair, a bewildered frown etching itself onto his face as he chewed on his bottom lip. Despite the fact that the Asset- James, he corrected himself- wasn’t doing what he was supposed to be doing, Rogers was still smiling, being patient with him as if James was a child. He was used to such a treatment from his Handlers but Rogers was different. Rogers actually cared about him, the person, rather that him, the Asset.
“Safe?” The word was foreign and unfamiliar but the previous comments were not. To be away from all these wandering eyes, to be encased in four walls with a distinct lack of windows was a comforting thought, but should he accept, would he be at Roger’s mercy? Would he be just swapping one form of abuse for another? After a moment’s hesitation, James found himself nodding quickly and wrapping his arms around himself in the same movement, regarding Roger’s through the curtain of his hair as before. No matter what he decided, James thought, he knew he couldn’t disappoint Roger’s yet again. He had his friend back and while James didn’t know how to be a person, nevermind someone’s friend, he wanted to try at least.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Steve that he would be thinking already of what Steve did. Somehow, even now, Bucky was concerned with what Steve thought, and what he generally did. It stunned him, though he did his best to keep his expression calm, to not worry Bucky or give him anything more to be anxious about. Steve had to be the calm one in this situation. He had to be stable, even if it broke his heart a little to see Bucky like this.
He was determined to make things better. “You’re right...I never called you James. But this isn’t about me. It’s about what makes you feel comfortable.” If he couldn’t call his friend Bucky again, Steve would handle that. It would make him sad, but he had become well practiced with keeping most of what he felt bottled up. The world needed him to be Captain America. He couldn’t afford to become a mess because his best friend turned ex-assassin couldn’t call himself Bucky. “If you would rather be called James, then that’s how it’s gonna be. Alright? Don’t worry. if you ever want something else down the line, then we can do that too.”
Steve nodded, doing his best to try to hide how nervous he was about this. It would be so easy for him to make a mistake and send Bu- no James. He should try to think of him as James now, running. He would hate to lose him, and he was going to do his damn best to make sure that didn’t happen. Everything else could wait. He was here to help his best friend. “Yeah? You’re up for it? Alright, then follow me.” Steve had to really force himself to turn, his stomach lurching, that fear rising up that B- James wouldn’t come.
But he had to take that risk. He needed to help the other, and he couldn’t do that in the museum. Steve stepped toward the entrance, his breathing quickening though he was still doing his best to keep calm. He would follow. He had to follow. Steve forced himself to settle and led the way out of the building, only stopping once he had left the museum behind before he let himself turn around.
Picking up strays - Closed
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Hours, maybe a day? It all ran together, his consciousness taxed by his circumstances. The Asset hurt so badly, he didn’t even notice someone in the alley until they were practically on top of him.
It wasn’t his handlers. They should have come and they hadn’t. Protocol was to go back to the rendezvous point, but he wasn’t going to make it in this condition. Letting someone else get ahold of him was equally unacceptable though, and the Asset shuffled further away, still too weak to escape. He didn’t get far, whimpering at the way his movements jarred his already battered body.
Steve honestly couldn’t ignore it if someone looked like they were in trouble. It wasn’t in him. Even if that meant, a lot of the time, that he got into some trouble himself, or put himself at risk in some way. That didn’t matter. All Steve had to do was look at the guy and see that he was bleeding, and of course he needed to act. It wasn’t as if Bucky was around to give his disapproval.
That thought came quick and then made him a little sick to his stomach. Still, he wasn’t sure exactly what he might do to help. The guy probably needed to stay calm. “Hey...hey don’t worry. I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to help. You’re hurt. Let me take you to a hospital, or a shelter or something. Someplace safe.” He didn’t know if anything he said got through, but he had to try. “You can do whatever you want after that. Just...let me help you with that.”
“I don’t think I follow.” Bucky’s smile was as genuine as the sentiment. Oh sure, he understood what Steve was suggesting, but what Steve framed as unattractive, Bucky found rather endearing.
Okay, starting over was good. If those words were right, the last thing Bucky wanted was to screw this up again. If not… well, he hoped he could leave his new acquaintance in a better mood than he found him, at least. He wasn’t sure if that was an invitation or not, so he waited patiently for Steve to get situation before he spoke up. “I’m Bucky. Mind if I sit?”
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “Really?” He couldn’t understand it. He was sure he had made it pretty clear what he was saying. But this guy...either he was just clueless, or he really had meant what he said. Steve’s cheeks colored, though not enough that it would be too notable.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at this. This whole thing was ridiculous, but he was in it now. He might as well give some effort to this, now that it had been drawn out. “Steve. Yeah, go ahead and sit down.” He sighed, reaching for the coffee that would probably give him some stomach ache later.
Steve wasn’t one to put up with being mocked, and he wasn’t going to stick around and let some jerk with a cocky grin have fun at his expense. He was teased and knocked around enough without letting another person pull that crap with him.
He had his pages and he started stuffing them into his bag, glancing over at the guy and finding himself a little confused that he was so…well he wasn’t the typical asshole. He had sat down relatively nicely, even if it was arrogant. He hadn’t insulted Steve.
He paused in his movement, considering the other and noting that he had really nice eyes, before he tried shaking that thought away again. “You wouldn’t be the first person to do that. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t like being the end of a joke, which feels like this is what it is coming from someone like you.” Someone who was clearly attractive, and had caught the attention of some people in the room. Steve wasn’t blind.
“You’re not the end of a joke. I meant it,” Bucky insisted, looking a bit distraught. He had meant it. There was something that drew him in, though it was a little muddled in all the snipping. Whether this person was the right person or not, it didn’t feel right to leave him angry and feeling made fun of.
“Can I start over? I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t.” Bucky offered the young man a sheepish smile, stepping back from the chair. “That was rude. I’m sorry. You looked pretty busy and focused, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t even notice. If you don’t want company, I’ll just leave you to it.”
“Right. Well you have to understand why that’s hard to believe.” Steve commented, gesturing at his paint stained clothes, and hair that was sticking up everywhere. He didn’t even know where to begin. He was stunned, honestly, that a guy like this would even notice Steve.
It was this largely that had him curious enough to finally sit down again. “Fine....I guess it couldn’t hurt. Haven’t finished my coffee anyway.” He muttered, setting his things back down. “Start over if you want. I’ll just finish up my sketch I guess.”
[Text: A for Assbutt] I can hear him without listening. It’s totally a mastery skill. You just tilt your head and your body a little toward the person and let it run in the back of your head. I could probably repeat him back word for word if I wanted. Doesn’t mean I’m listening.
[Text: Stark] Oh really? Prove it then. Tell me what he’s been saying this whole time and then I’ll leave you alone about it. Unless you’re not up for the challenge.
Picking up strays - Closed
@stevecandothisallday
It wasn’t the distance he fell that nearly did the Asset in, so much as the way it happened. The gunshots to his chest probably wouldn’t have done him in on their own. His body would push them out eventually, and the aim was far enough off that they were more painful than dangerous. They were enough to knock him off balance though, backwards off the rooftop. The landing was agonizing, pain so sharp through his limbs that even the Winter Soldier couldn’t shake it off.
The best he could do was crawl away, into an alley, out of view of passers by. Every movement had him clenching his jaw on the urge to cry out, but it wouldn’t do to attract attention. He was a ghost. A severely injured ghost, but a ghost all the same. The Asset hid as best he could as the world went gray around the edges. He could feel himself drifting as he waited for extraction. Extraction never came.
Ever since Bucky had left for the war, Steve had felt a certain dissatisfaction with his life. He couldn’t help his country, he couldn’t keep Bucky safe....what exactly could he do? Apparently, not even really hold down a job. He had tried everything of the more reasonable job options, and nothing really seemed to work. What he had fleft a bad taste in his mouth.
He worked late hours, and he found himself drifting back toward his awful apartment, having been unable to afford the apartment Bucky had shared with him. He made his way down the alley he took as a short cut, and froze as he caught sigh of a man who was clearly in pain. He didn’t really think, he just went straight toward him. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?”
Feisty. Well this was bound to be entertaining. Even as his table mate was chastising him, Bucky decided he’d made exactly the right choice.
“Easier to ask forgiveness than permission,” Bucky replied without missing a beat. He settled a little straighter in his seat, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. It was the best thing he’d had in ages, and for a second, he closed his eyes and forgot all about the grouchy young man across from him.
“Besides.” He smiled impishly. Military service had done nothing to dull Bucky’s charm or penchant for flirtation. He leaned a little closer, as if he meant to impart some great secret. “Best view in the house.”
Steve couldn’t help but stare at the guy. Who the hell did he think he was? Just waltzing right in and sitting down as if he owned the place? And maybe he was in a worse mood with the way he had to rush this particular commission, but still. “Well that’s not a cliche or anything.” Steve muttered irritably.
He moved to make sure all of his art was properly put away, deciding he might as well give up on getting any work done at the table. Steve sipped at his coffee as if it would give him life, trying very hard to ignore the other.
But that was easier said than done. He stiffened at the guy’s next words, and his irritation moved quickly to anger. “Are you serious? You’re just making fun of me now right? Well you can fucking pick someone else to harass.” He started rushing to gather everything in hand, ready to get the hell out of there.
Steve had been mocked plenty before, but this guy was good. He almost had Steve believing that…but no. No he wouldn’t want that. “Congratulations. You can have the damn table.”
Alright, maybe this guy wasn’t so much feisty as… very cross. Bucky hadn’t meant to upset him, not really. He’d only been teasing, but maybe he was more out of practice than he figured.
Bucky was just about to apologize when Steve started to get up. It was such a flurry that at first Bucky was too startled to respond. He ran over their conversation in his head, trying to figure out where he’d gone quite so wrong when it hit him. Subtly, he pulled at his shirt sleeve, searching for words that had been written there for ages along the inside of his forearm and sure enough.
It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. Some other conversation with some other person was responsible for that surely. Bucky felt terrible though, and even if this wasn’t the right person, he still didn’t want to leave things on such a sour note.
“Wait! I wasn’t…” he got up, holding out a hand as if he were trying to stop oncoming traffic. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I wouldn’t. That’s just cruel.”
Steve wasn’t one to put up with being mocked, and he wasn’t going to stick around and let some jerk with a cocky grin have fun at his expense. He was teased and knocked around enough without letting another person pull that crap with him.
He had his pages and he started stuffing them into his bag, glancing over at the guy and finding himself a little confused that he was so...well he wasn’t the typical asshole. He had sat down relatively nicely, even if it was arrogant. He hadn’t insulted Steve.
He paused in his movement, considering the other and noting that he had really nice eyes, before he tried shaking that thought away again. “You wouldn’t be the first person to do that. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t like being the end of a joke, which feels like this is what it is coming from someone like you.” Someone who was clearly attractive, and had caught the attention of some people in the room. Steve wasn’t blind.
“To be fair, flight is pretty badass and people have been glorying in that kind of stuff for a really long time. Just. Practicalities. Ugh. I hate that word sometimes, you know?”
"Yeah..I think I do. Still, you managed to figure out a pretty good way to do it. Even if it is very individualized.”
Feisty. Well this was bound to be entertaining. Even as his table mate was chastising him, Bucky decided he’d made exactly the right choice.
“Easier to ask forgiveness than permission,” Bucky replied without missing a beat. He settled a little straighter in his seat, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. It was the best thing he’d had in ages, and for a second, he closed his eyes and forgot all about the grouchy young man across from him.
“Besides.” He smiled impishly. Military service had done nothing to dull Bucky’s charm or penchant for flirtation. He leaned a little closer, as if he meant to impart some great secret. “Best view in the house.”
Steve couldn’t help but stare at the guy. Who the hell did he think he was? Just waltzing right in and sitting down as if he owned the place? And maybe he was in a worse mood with the way he had to rush this particular commission, but still. “Well that’s not a cliche or anything.” Steve muttered irritably.
He moved to make sure all of his art was properly put away, deciding he might as well give up on getting any work done at the table. Steve sipped at his coffee as if it would give him life, trying very hard to ignore the other.
But that was easier said than done. He stiffened at the guy’s next words, and his irritation moved quickly to anger. “Are you serious? You’re just making fun of me now right? Well you can fucking pick someone else to harass.” He started rushing to gather everything in hand, ready to get the hell out of there.
Steve had been mocked plenty before, but this guy was good. He almost had Steve believing that...but no. No he wouldn’t want that. “Congratulations. You can have the damn table.”
