“Steve, I’m doomed,” Bucky said. U was in his lap while he sat on Tony’s sofa, purring madly and nudging at Bucky’s hand every time he stopped moving his fingers.
“Why are you doomed this time?” Steve was heartless.
“The new book is shit. It’s total and utter shit. My career is over, I am going to starve to death on the streets,” Bucky said.
“Does that mean I actually get to read the new book now?” Remarkably unconcerned at the prospect of Bucky starving to death. Some best friend Steve was.
“Mrrrp?” U stuck in her opinion, but Bucky wasn’t sure how to interpret it. The cat got up and stuck a cold nose in Bucky’s ear, which was kinda sweet and a little distracting. Bucky stroked down her back a little more firmly, which got her to settle back into his lap.
“No,” Bucky exclaimed. “Why would I let you read it, it’s complete shit.”
“Um, because I’m your agent, in addition to being your best friend, and you’re contractually obligated to let me read it once you finish a draft.” That had been Steve, putting it into the contract, otherwise Bucky might sit on most of his novels forever. It had been a distinct possibility before Not Without You was ever published, and then, despite becoming a New York Times bestseller practically overnight, Bucky had sat on the second book, End of the Line, for almost eight months before submitting it.
After that, Steve had forced the contractual obligation; Bucky had to let Steve read the draft as soon as it was finished.
Five books later, and Bucky still didn’t feel like a real writer.
He wondered sometimes if this was a problem other people had. Did insurance claims adjusters wonder if they were real claims adjusters? Did real estate agents get concerned as to whether or not they’d arrived?
“It’s shit,” Bucky insisted. “I don’t know why you want to read shit.”
“Because, Jaime Buchanan,” Steve said, using Bucky’s pen name as a particularly harsh epithet, “what you call shit, most people call a fifty-thousand dollar advance. One of these days, I’ll get you to write something that’s not shit and we can all retire to Tahiti.”
“I hear it’s a magical place,” Bucky said. U batted at his hand again and issued a meowing complaint.
“Did… did you get a cat, Buck?”
“No, this is Tony’s cat,” Bucky said, cheerfully. He’d much rather talk about Tony’s cat than his shitty excuse for a novel any day of the week. “Say hi to my horrible agent, U.” He held the cellphone out to the cat, who mewed as if on command and then rubbed her chin against the corner.
“Who’s Tony?” Steve sounded suspicious.
More below the break, or you can read any of tisfan’s stuff on a03
“Neighbor,” Bucky said, trying to sound casual. He hadn’t mentioned it, but cat-sitting for Tony had become one of the highlights of his life. This was the fourth time; Tony kept getting called out of town for business and, as he said, “you’re right here, so I don’t have to ask Pepper to come all the way from Midtown, so you know, as long as you don’t mind…”
Bucky didn’t mind.
After realizing that Bucky would eat leftovers, Tony left the fridge full of stuff in neatly labeled tupperware and Bucky stopped looking like a refugee from a crash diet camp. When Bucky had attempted to protest, Tony explained that while he always packed the leftovers, he rarely ate them, and besides, it made him feel better about imposing so often.
“You have a neighbor?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I think there are eleven units aside from mine in the building,” Bucky said. “I’m not entirely sure how many--”
“All hail Lord Pedantic,” Steve said, so dry he could qualify for desert-in-training. “You have a neighbor that you talk to. That you know his name. Bucky… you haven’t spoken to anyone new that you didn’t have to…”
“Can we not talk about that, Steve? Look, Tony’s nice. He has a nice cat. And he asks me to look after her once in a while. So, it’s okay. Let’s… just not make a big deal out of it? Right now it’s not a big deal, and I don’t want it to be a big deal.”
“Tell you what,” Steve said. “You let me come over tonight and give me your manuscript, and I won’t say another word about your neighbor or his cat, okay?”
“Deal,” Bucky said. He was not an idiot, no matter what Steve thought sometimes, and he heard the sharp inhalation that Steve made. Never, ever in their history of Steve being Bucky’s agent (they were best friends first, and Steve was really only Bucky’s agent out of sheer necessity) had Bucky ever turned over a first draft without several weeks worth of begging, pleading, and threatening.
“Maybe you should think about getting a cat,” was all that Steve had to say. And then he hung up. He was probably going to come over in a few hours, and Bucky might want to take a shower and try to clean up a little bit before that happened. Not that he was having as much trouble with the pretending to be human thing. The thought that Tony might knock at any moment and want to bring Bucky a casserole, or ask for cat-sitting, or just to say hi, had kept Bucky mostly clean, occasionally dressed, and less distracted than he’d been in years.
“Don’t be silly,” Bucky told the phone. And the cat in his lap. “There’s nobody quite like U, right U?”
U agreed with that assessment.
“Hey,” Bucky said. He was shaking so hard that he had to stuff his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie to keep himself steady.
“Hey, Bucky,” Tony said. His whole face lit up with a smile, his eyes did that wonderful crinkle thing that Bucky just loved. “What are you… it’s good to see you!”
First time for everything. Tony hadn’t been out of town in weeks and while he dropped in from time to time to bring Bucky a coffee cake, and one time a whole batch of homemade strawberry jam, Bucky hadn’t gotten to see him much. So, he’d taken some initiative and knocked on Tony’s door.
“I… uh…” Bucky started, feeling a blush creep up his neck. God, he used to be smooth, he used to be a flirt, and it had been forever since he’d talked to anyone but Steve, and sometimes Steve’s boyfriend, Clint. “I was…”
“Yrrrple!” U came trotting toward the front door and Bucky was already twisting into a squat to catch up the cat and cuddle her against his chest before he knew what he was doing.
“You wanna come in and have dinner? We could watch a movie and hang on the sofa or something? I think someone’s been missing U.”
“Was that a pun?” Bucky squinched up his eyes at Tony.
“Only if you think it was funny,” Tony said. “Come on, come in. I cooked more than I can eat, anyway.”
“You always do,” Bucky pointed out.
Tony had been making vegetable primavera, the garlic sauteed vegetables were just the right amount of tender, the noodles firm, the wine and basil sauce sharp and delicious. Tony scooped up two bowls and they sat on his couch and watched a movie. Bucky wasn’t even sure what the movie was; about halfway through, U climbed into Bucky’s lap and stretched out and Tony was absently petting her until she fell asleep. And then his hand just… lingered there. Resting on the cat, which was resting on Bucky’s thighs.
Which should not have been getting Bucky aroused.
Except for all the ways that it was.
Shit.
“OMGSTEVE!”
“Are you even serious, right now?” Steve asked. “It’s three in the morning.”
“U is gone, Steve, ohmigod, what am I supposed to do?”
“Bucky, what?”
Bucky stared at the hole in the window screen, barely big enough for the cat to slide out, but apparently she had, because she was absolutely nowhere in Tony’s apartment. He’d taken his laptop over while he sat with the cat in the kitchen. Tony’s left a note, some pot pie, and some homemade baklava, and Bucky had eaten dinner. Then, rather than leave, he’d sat on the sofa and worked on the new book -- a minor miracle in and of itself, because Bucky never worked on a new book before the old book had gone through at least three of its minimal five revisions before he’d let Steve actually send it to the publisher -- and talked to the cat in between paragraphs.
It was hot in the condo, but nice outside. Nicer outside than inside, really, so Bucky had opened the window a bit. Seemed silly to turn the air conditioning on, and even if it wasn’t, Bucky wasn’t sure if Tony would approve of that, so he didn’t.
And he’d fallen asleep.
Which apparently had been the signal for U to do something she’d never done before.
Exit the building.
Bucky had already been outside for over an hour, looking for the cat, calling her softly, because he didn’t want to wake up the neighbors.
“Just put food in her dish, she’ll come back when she gets hungry. It’s just a cat, Bucky, Jesus, I thought somebody died.”
Bucky nearly dropped the phone, pulling it away from his ear and staring at it. “U is not just a cat, Steve,” he said, firmly. Then punched the disconnect button because obviously Steve was not going to be of any help whatsoever.
Steve called back and Bucky did something he almost never did. He clicked Steve over to voicemail.
What do you do if your cat goes missing? it’s really heart breaking when you see your cute catty missing from home. specially distressing for kids because ...
