#jini writes

[trekchik]

It’s been kind of a slow day in the radiology department and Bucky is bored. He’s managed to catch up on all the x-rays sent to him for diagnostics, he’s straightened his desk, and even wiped down the break room. He hasn’t had this little to do since he can’t remember when. 

He’s about to open his phone when one of the ER nurses, Sam, comes in with a handful of files. “ER just got busy,” he says.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky says, taking the folders from Sam. He sets them down by the light box and pulls the first patient. He sticks the x-ray in the box and looks it over. 

“Bennett, Josie. Ten years old. Fell off her skateboard onto her wrist,” Sam supplies. 

Bucky’s fingers dance over the film. “She’s got a hairline fracture right here,” he says pointing to the head of her ulna. He pulls the x-ray from the box and hands it to Sam who places it back in the folder. Bucky quickly enters his notes into the computer by the light box as Sam pulls out another piece of film. 

“Tyler, Marcus. Sixty-five years old. Took a fall in the bathroom. Said his ankle just gave out on him.” 

Bucky places the film on the box and studies it. “I don’t see anything wrong here. He looks good.” Once again, he hands Sam the film and types his notes into the computer. 

“Whoa!” Sam says. “You’re gonna want to actually see this patient,” he says, smirking. 

“I don’t DO patients,” Bucky says, grumpiness seeping through. “You know that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna wanna do this one. Got an excellent Throckmorton’s Sign on it.” 

“What are you? Twelve?” Bucky asks, holding out his hand for the film. As soon as he puts it in the light box, he knows Sam is right. Holy shit. That’s a hell of a Throckmorton. It’s been a long time since he’s seen a dick that big flaccid. Bucky whistles in appreciation. 

“I told you,” Sam says. “Rogers, Steve. Thirty-one. Fell off a ladder onto his left hip.” 

“He’s lucky,” Bucky says. “I don’t see anything.” 

“Other than that huge dick of his?” Sam says. 

“Shut up, Wilson.” 

“You want to tell him he’s good?” Sam teases.

Bucky pauses and thinks for a moment. “Is he cute?”

Sam nods. “I’m thinking about asking him out.” 

“You’re straight.”

“My point.” 

“All right, let’s go,” Bucky says. He quickly grabs a Post-It and writes “Back in Ten” on it, slapping it on the door on the way out. 

When they get to the ER, Sam hands Bucky the file and directs him to the bay Steve is in. Bucky takes a breath and pulls back the curtain. “Mr. Rogers?”

The man who turns to face him is fucking gorgeous. Bucky is a little awestruck by his beauty. Sculpted jaw and cheekbones, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, lips that look like they could suck the chrome off a bumper. 

“Yeah,” he says, shifting a bit in the bed. He’s still in some pain apparently. “What’s up, doc?” he says, unironically. 

“Sorry. I’m your radiologist, Bucky. I just wanted to let you know that your x-ray looks good and after Dr. Stark goes over it with you, you’ll probably be free to go.” 

“Nothing’s broken?” Steve asks. 

“Not that I could see. Now, the doc may have you go for an MRI to be sure, but there’s nothing on the x-ray I could see.” 

“That’s a good thing,” Steve says. 

“Very.” Bucky takes a deep breath before he continues. “Look, this is going to sound weird -”

“Okay….”

“But I saw you come in earlier,” (a little white lie won’t hurt anyone) “and I know you’re in some discomfort -”

“Pain. Pain is the word I’d use,” Steve says. 

“Fair enough. But I don’t suppose that when you’re up and able, you’d want to get a coffee or something?” 

Steve’s mouth drops open and Bucky knows he’s gone too far. He’s gonna get reported and fired for sure. At least his resume is up to date. He thinks. He really should check on that. 

“You’re asking me out.”

“Yes?” Bucky says hesitantly. 

“While I’m in the ER.” 

“Okay, you know what? Bad idea.” Bucky turns to leave the enclosure. 

“No, no. I didn’t say it was a bad idea.” 

“No?”

“Just, really, really unexpected.”

Just then the curtain flings open and Dr. Stark stands there. “Hey, Barnes. Whatcha doing here?”

“I was just, uh, letting Mr. Rogers know that his x-ray looks good.”

“Huh. Isn’t that my job?” Stark asks. He holds out his hands for the file, which Bucky hands him. Stark pulls the x-ray out of the folder and holds it up to the light. “Nice Throckmorton,” he says. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a spot on the pelvis.” He side eyes Bucky, who blushes and looks away. “If Barnes says you’re good to go, you probably are,” Stark says. 

“No MRI?” Steve asks. 

“No. I’d say follow up with your ortho in two to four days. If you’re still having pain, he or she may send you for one. What’s your pain level now?”

“Probably about a five,” Steve says. 

“I’ll write you a script for some Tylenol with codeine. Take them only if you really feel the need too. Otherwise, you should be fine with Aleve. Nice meeting you, Mr. Rogers.” Stark walks out, but not before shoving Steve’s file at Bucky, leaving the two of them alone again. 

“The nurse should be along to discharge you soon,” Bucky says. “I’d better get going.” 

“Wait,” Steve says. “You haven’t given me your number yet.” 

“Oh. OH. You still want to…?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I want to. You might have to give me a few days to heal up, though.” 

“I can do that,” Bucky says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

[trekchik]

Steve sighs heavily. He has no idea what he’s going to do next. He’s on the C, having just left his doctor’s office. The testing had come back positive. On top of all of Steve’s other annoying ailments, he’s just been diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Up until now, all his medicines have been generic or else he’s been able to use GoodRX to get them since his job doesn’t have a great insurance plan. Insulin, however, is another story all together. 

Insulin, even generics (he researched when his doc told him she wanted to test him), cost several hundred dollars. Brand names can run fourteen hundred dollars a month. He’s screwed. So screwed. 

He’s on the verge of tears, but manages to hold it together until he gets to his shared apartment. He doesn’t want Bucky to see him this way. Not that Bucky would judge him, but he’s still embarrassed. 

It’s when he enters the apartment and sees Bucky in the little kitchenette cooking them dinner that he gets an idea. It’s insane, but he’s got nothing to lose at this point. 

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky says. He’s stirring a pot of what Steve thinks is stew judging from the aroma wafting through the air. “How’d it go?”

Steve takes a breath. He can do this. “We need to get married. Now. This weekend.”

Bucky chuckles. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says, obviously not meaning it. 

Steve takes a step towards Bucky. “Buck, I’m not kidding,” he says somberly. “Will you marry me?” 

Bucky puts the spoon down and turns to him, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms. He furrows his brow in concern for his friend. “What’s going on?”

Steve sighs. “I’ve got it. I’ve got Type 1 Diabetes. The doctor talked about getting me a pump to regulate my insulin levels.” 

“Oh, kid -” 

“Don’t call me kid. You’re only a few months older than me.” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Bucky reaches out and soothes Steve’s arm. “But why do you want to get married?” Steve is silent. “Steve?”

“You...you have better insurance than I do.” 

Bucky barks out a laugh. “You want to marry me for my insurance? I’m crushed! I thought you liked me more than that.” 

“You’re my best friend, Buck. Of course I like you more than that. But I need insurance, and it’s not like I’m dating anyone.” Steve shrugs. “You were my first choice.”

“Sounds like I’m your only choice.” 

“That, too,” Steve says sheepishly. 

“Oh, Stevie.” Bucky pushes off the counter and envelopes him in a hug. He even kisses the top of Steve’s head, and that’s...new. 

After a moment, Bucky lets go. He takes Steve by the biceps and looks at him. Steve looks away. “Hey, look at me.” Steve does. “Now. If we’re doing this - “

“You don’t have to. It was a stupid idea.”

“IF we’re doing this,” Bucky repeats. “I’ve got a request, first.” 

“What’s that?”

“Go out with me. On a date. Not just buddies hanging out at the bar. A real date.”

And Steve’s not sure what he just heard. A date? With Bucky? That’s just crazy. Well, not so crazy. Steve does sort of have this unrequited crush on Bucky. But maybe it’s not so unrequited after all. 

“What?” It’s all Steve can manage. 

“Steve Rogers, will you go out with me?”

“You want to take me on a date.”

“Yes.”

“Like a real date.”

“Yes.”

“A date date.”

“One date. Then we can get married. I need to know what I’m getting into,” Bucky laughs. 

Steve surges forward, grabs Bucky’s face, and kisses him. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, he tries to pull away, but Bucky stops him, pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. He opens his mouth and slips his tongue out to lick at Steve’s lips. Steve opens up to him just as his brain finally gets back on track because he’s kissing Bucky. 

His best friend. 

He pulls away a little and rests his forehead on Bucky’s. “What was that?” he asks. 

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Bucky replies. 

“Me, too.”

Bucky lets go of Steve and turns back to the stove and his cooking. “Now. Should we go ring shopping on our first date, or our second?”

[trekchik]

There’s a knock at the door, and Bucky takes a quick look at his watch. It’s too early to be anything other than a neighbor, Bucky heads to the door, coffee mug in hand. 

He’s ready with a “Can I help you?” as he opens the door, but it dies on his lips. Standing there on his doorstep is a mountain of a man sans shirt, holding what appears to be Bucky’s cat.

It’s all very attractive. 

“Um, hi,” is what Bucky manages to get out. He tries not to stare at the man’s chest. He fails spectacularly.

The man gestures to the cat and smiles. “I think this is yours?”

Bucky reaches out for the cat, the telltale ID tag on her collar giving her away immediately. The cat goes willingly into Bucky’s arms. “Alpine. Yeah. Where did you find her?” 

“I live at the end of the block. Steve, by the way -”

“Bucky.” 

“And she’s been coming around to visit with me in the mornings just before my run.” Steve reaches out to scratch Alpine’s head. “It’s been about a week she’s been doing this.” 

“Good kitty,” Bucky says. “Look at you, making friends.” 

“That’s what I thought. Until this morning.” Steve shows Bucky the underside of his forearm. There are long red scratches on it. “I apparently didn’t stop with the belly rub soon enough.”

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. Bad kitty.” He waves the coffee mug in front of the cat’s face, pointing out her indiscretion. The cat, of course, doesn’t give a shit. 

“I just want to make sure she’s up-to-date on her rabies shots,” Steve says. 

“Oh, shit. Yes. Of course. Come on in.” Bucky steps out of the doorway to let Steve in. He drops Alpine to the floor when he closes the door. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“That'd be great. Black, please.”

Bucky grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours Steve a cup. “I hope it’s not too strong,” he says. 

“The stronger the better. Thanks.” 

“I think it’s in the junk drawer.” Bucky opens a drawer and rifles through it looking for the rabies shot tag. It should be in an envelope. Of course, he finds it all the way in the back of the drawer. “Here you go. I take her every year. We just went in March.” He hands the envelope to Steve who opens it. 

“This is perfect. Thanks for allaying my fears. I’m glad she’s up to date.” He puts the tag back in the envelope and hands it back to Bucky, who notices Steve’s arm again. 

“Have you cleaned that yet?” he asks, pointing to the wound.

“Not yet. I wanted to know about the rabies first.”

“Understandable. I’ve got some peroxide if you want…” Bucky trails off.

“Thank you, yes.” 

“Hold on.” Bucky sets down his mug and exits to the bathroom for the peroxide and cotton balls, finding them easily. He’s already got one cotton ball soaked by the time he gets back to the kitchen. “Have a seat,” he says to Steve, gesturing to the kitchen table. 

Steve sits and lays his arm on the table. The scratches don’t look deep, but there’s a little bit of blood pooled around them. Bucky is about to touch the cotton ball to Steve’s arm, but Steve stops him by placing his hand on his. “I should probably do this,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t have a...hand condom,” Bucky says, the word completely eluding him. 

Steve barks out a laugh. “You mean a glove?” 

Bucky ducks his head and holds out the cotton ball. “Yeah. That.” 

Steve dabs at his arm, hissing at the sting of the peroxide. He looks around for a trash can, and Bucky grabs the one under the sink for him. Steve tosses the cotton ball into it. “Doesn’t look too bad now that it’s cleaned up,” he says. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says. “For Alpine.” 

“You want to make it up to me?” Steve asks. Bucky nods. “Take me out for coffee.”

“I can do that,” Bucky says, sheepishly. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. 

Steve gets up to leave, saying, “I’m going for my run now. I’m in the blue house at the corner. Come by around three?” 

Bucky blushes as he nods is confirmation. As they get to the door, Steve leans in just a little too close to be anything but lecherous and whispers into Bucky’s ear, “You’re pretty when you blush, sweetheart.” 

Steve bounds down the stairs, turning only once to wave goodbye, leaving Bucky at the door, absolutely dumbfounded. Alpine comes up to him and twines around his legs. He picks her up as he closes the door. 

“Good kitty.” 

[trekchik]

Steve and Becca hang out in her room playing Plants vs. Zombies together on her PS4. They’re trying to make it through to the Zomboss with as many of their lives intact as possible. 

“Look out!” Becca warns. “I see it!” Steve replies, deftly out maneuvering the zombie on his left flank. He’s not quite as quick and he loses his last life as a zombie gets him from behind. “Dammit. Fight the good fight, Becca. I’m gonna get something to drink. Want a soda?” 

“No, I’m good,” she says, staring at the screen. “Die zombie scum!”

Steve chuckles and makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. He’s been to her house enough that he feels comfortable raiding the fridge on his own. Her parents seem to like him, probably more because he isn’t a threat to their baby girl. Steve is small for his age with a few health ailments. Not to mention he’s gay, so he’s allowed in her room when her parents aren’t home. 

He’s bent over, looking for a soda, spying one in the back of the fridge. As he reaches to grab the bottle, he hears a rustling behind him. Must be Becca’s mom coming home from work. He’s ready with a “Hi Mrs. Barnes” to greet her, but as he stands and turns, the words die on his lips. 

Standing there is a boy, older than he and Becca, with piercing blue eyes, a shock of brown hair, and a lithe body clad in a white t-shirt and skinny jeans. This must be Becca’s older brother, Bucky. 

“Hey,” Bucky says. 

“Hi.” Why didn’t Becca mention her brother was so hot?

“Who’re you?”

Steve swallows. “Steve. I’m a friend of Becca’s.” 

“Mom and Dad know you’re up in her room?”

“I’m gay.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Izzat so?”

“Yeah.” 

Bucky’s eyes rake down Steve’s body, making him nervous. Is Bucky going to punch him for being in Becca’s room? Steve takes a step back and collides with the fridge. A magnet digs into his back. 

Bucky takes a step forward. He seems to enjoy watching Steve squirm. In fact, he sidles up to Steve and places his forearm on the fridge over Steve’s head. He looks down at him with a look that can only be called lecherous. 

“You like suckin’ cock, Stevie?” Bucky asks. He licks his lips for good measure. Steve doesn’t answer him, so he keeps going. “Wrapping your lips around the head, flicking the slit with your tongue, swallowing it down.” 

The noise that Steve lets out can only be called “undignified.” He closes his eyes, willing Bucky to go away. It doesn’t work. Bucky is still there, and Steve is horrified to realize he’s half hard. He can’t go back to Becca’s room like that. 

Bucky’s other hand reaches down and cups Steve’s cock through his jeans. “Yeah, you like the thought of that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Steve exhales and nods, god help him. “You like being eaten out?” Steve’s eyes dart up to Bucky’s. “Lap at your hole, making it all sloppy with my spit. Watch it drip down your taint.” 

Steve shudders at Bucky’s words. His traitorous dick fattens up to full hardness. He’s going to die. He’s going to die right here in his best friend’s kitchen. He’s certain of it. 

“I’ll steal your number from Becca’s phone and take you out before I fuck you. Treat you real nice, like you deserve. Sound good, sweetheart?”

Steve nods. 

Bucky pulls away from Steve. “Hi, Mom,” he calls, staring Steve down. 

Steve manages to break the spell and sprint halfway up the stairs before Mrs. Barnes catches him. He heads to the bathroom next to Becca’s room to will away his erection. He drops his pants and places the cold soda on his junk over his underwear. It takes a minute, but it works. He washes his hands and exits the bathroom. 

“What took you so long?” Becca asks him. 

“I ran into Bucky,” Steve says. 

“He’s such a jerk. Did he bother you?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d have to kick his ass,” she says. “Come on. I’m getting close to the Zomboss!” 

Steve picks up the controller and jumps back into the game, but he’s distracted thinking about her brother.

[trekchik]

The sounds emanating from his neighbor’s apartment are going to kill Steve.

He likes his neighbor, Bucky, he really does, but if he doesn’t stop with the noise, Steve is going to have to kill him.

Or come on to him. He’s not sure which.

For the past two weeks, Bucky has been masturbating, loudly, on the other side of their shared wall at all different hours. Sometimes it’s first thing in the morning, sometimes it’s mid-afternoon, occasionally it’s late at night, but the most popular time seems to be right now, at five o’clock in the evening.

Steve’s sitting on the sofa, trying to finish up his work for the day. Only he can’t concentrate because of the moaning coming from Bucky’s place.

Fuck it.

He closes his laptop, placing it on the table in front of him. He puts his head in his hands, willing the sounds to stop. He doesn’t want to listen, not really, but he just can’t help it. Bucky is loud, not to mention hot, and Steve may have a little bit of a crush on him.

On a particularly loud groan, Steve flops back into the sofa and throws his hands up in the air. They land on his thighs, and he rubs them nervously. He shouldn’t do what he’s thinking about doing. He’s thinking about masturbating to the sounds of Bucky masturbating.

It makes him feel dirty.

But who’s gonna know?

He ultimately decides against it. Maybe when he’s alone in his bedroom later, but it feels wrong to do it now. Now, he’ll just be content to listen. So, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, savoring the noises coming from the apartment next door.

He’s just about to give in and touch himself when he hears, clear as day, “STEVE!” followed by a low groan.

Jesus. Was Bucky thinking about him while he was jacking off?

Fuck that’s hot.

He ignores his own half hard dick and makes his way to the door. He’s a man on a mission now. He flings it open, takes two steps to the left and pounds on Bucky’s door with his fist.

“Just a minute,” comes Bucky’s voice. When he opens the door, he’s dressed only in a pair of sweats, and his chest is flushed. “Steve. Hey. What’s up?” He is slightly out of breath.

Steve surges forward, takes Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him. It takes a moment, but Bucky’s hands find their way to Steve’s hips. They kiss for several seconds before Steve finally pulls back, resting his forehead on Bucky’s.

“I was wondering when you were gonna come over,” Bucky says, a smile on his lips. “I haven’t jerked off so much since high school.”

“Goddamn,” Steve says. “You couldn’t have just asked like a normal human being?”

“I’m much more subtle, Rogers.”

“There was nothing subtle about what you just did.”

“I was getting tired of waiting for you. Want to come in?”

“God, yes.”

[trekchik]

Steve works on the daily overdraft report when Mr. Barnes enters the bank. 

Sigh. 

Mr. Barnes. To say that Steve harbors a crush for him is putting it mildly. It’s only natural. Mr. Barnes is one of the most recognized - and good-looking - figures in town. He’s the owner of Barnes Pharmaceuticals, the largest such company on the east coast. He’s a single father to his daughter, his wife having died in a car accident several years ago. 

Steve straightens up as Mr. Barnes makes his way to Steve’s desk. Steve stands, and holds out his hand for Mr. Barnes to shake. Steve tries not to be too self-conscious of his smaller frame in front of Mr. Barnes’ large one. Mr. Barnes is an imposing figure, impeccably dressed, and Steve wishes he could take a Klonopin to calm his nerves. 

“Steve. Good to see you,” Mr. Barnes says, shaking his small hand. 

“You, too, Mr. Barnes.” 

“Please, call me Bucky.” 

Steve makes a gesture for him to sit as Steve sits himself. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need to set up a savings account for my daughter.” 

“Absolutely. I can do that for you.” Steve reaches into the drawer next to him to pull out the necessary paperwork. 

“And I’d like to set it up so that it drafts a thousand dollars a week from my personal checking into her savings account.”

As Steve begins to fill in the sheet, he says, “I wish you were my daddy and put money into my account.” And he freezes. Did he just say that out loud? Fuck. 

“What was that?” Bucky asks in a tone that suggests he simply didn’t hear him. 

“Nothing, sorry,” Steve says. He feels his face flush with heat as he avoids Mr. Barnes’ eyes. He pulls up the program he needs on his computer and takes care of the transaction efficiently and with no more fuckups. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. He takes the transaction over to the teller’s stations to complete it. On the way back to his desk, his eyes meet Mr. Barnes’ and Steve gives just the faintest hint of a smile. Maybe he’ll get out of this situation with his dignity intact. 

“There you go,” he says, handing the receipt to him. “Oh, I just need one more signature.” He points to the spot on the paper which Mr. Barnes signs in his elegant text. “Thank you. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” 

“I think that’ll do it,” Mr. Barnes says, standing. “Thank you, Steve.” He claps Steve gently on the shoulder, leans into Steve, so that only he can hear and says, “I’ll call you later on the whole daddy thing.” 

He turns and walks out the door without a single glance back, leaving Steve standing there, dumbfounded.

[trekchik]

Steve wanders the food aisles at the Costco, only half heartedly paying attention to where he’s going. As he turns at the end of the aisle to look at the endcap, he accidentally bumps his cart into someone else’s. He’s got an apology half way out of his mouth when he stops mid-breath. The guy he bumped into is beautiful. He’s probably close to Steve’s height with dark hair tucked behind his ears, and the beefiest body Steve has seen in a while. It takes all his willpower not to outright drool. 

“Sorry,” the man says, a mea culpa on his face. “I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Neither was I,” Steve replies. He smiles, and the man smiles back. It’s nothing short of breathtaking. Steve can’t remember the last time he had such a visceral reaction to another person. They each give a closed-mouth smile followed by a little wave and head their own way, Steve wondering if he’ll bump into him again. 

He does. They both end up the next aisle over, heading in different directions. They stop in front of each other, Steve looking at the three-pack of ketchup, the other guy looking at the multi-pack of salad dressing. 

“You can never have too much ketchup,” the guy says. 

Steve looks up at the man. “Do what now?” He was lost in thought for a moment and missed what he said. 

“You can never have too much ketchup,” he repeats. 

“Right?” Steve smiles. “It’s the perfect condiment.” He looks down at the dressing in the guy’s hand. “That’s a good one. I got that last time.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” he says, nodding as he puts the pack in his cart. 

They go their own ways again, only to meet back at the next aisle, and the next, and the one after that. Steve stops at the end of the row to pick up a bag of dog food while he sees the guy pick up his own bag of cat food. They’re both animal people. That’s a good sign. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” the guy says to him as he hefts the bag into his cart. 

“I have a feeling we’ll be at it again soon enough,” Steve says. This time he rakes his eyes down the guy’s form, hoping against hope that the guy could possibly be interested in him. 

“You’re probably right,” the man says, flicking his eyes down to Steve’s mouth. At least Steve thinks that’s what he did. He’s not totally certain. 

They go on their way again, managing to avoid each other in the large dairy and frozen sections, but meeting up again at the seafood cases. They each grab for a package of shrimp, their hands brushing together. Steve thinks he feels a connection, but he rationalizes that it’s probably just static electricity. 

“Okay, this is just getting out of hand,” the guy says. 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles sheepishly. Guess the guy isn’t into him after all. Oh, well. 

“Do you - this is gonna sound crazy - do you want to get a coffee or a drink?” 

“I - oh.” Steve’s brain stops short for a moment while it tries to catch up with what was just asked of him. 

“If you don’t, that’s cool,” the man says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I just thought -”

“No! No, I’d like that.”

“How about three o’clock over at the Green Bean?” he asks looking at his watch. “I’m assuming that’ll give you enough time to get checked out and get everything unpacked at home.”

The Green Bean is definitely out of Steve’s way. It’s in a part of town he hardly ever has need to go to, but he doesn’t care. He’s going. If this good-looking guy wants to have coffee with him in the next town over, Steve’s going to be there. 

“Yeah. I can do that. Steve.” 

“Bucky.” Bucky reaches into the seafood case and pulls out the package of shrimp. “Here. You take this one.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking the package. “I’ll see you at three.” 

He puts the shrimp in his cart and turns to go. He only turns back twice to see if Bucky is still there. 

He is.

[trekchik]

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. 

“Hey.” 

“I’m Bucky.”

“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.” 

“Cool.”

“What about you?”

“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. 

“I thought you might.”