anyway im on lunch break now so gale having to excuse himself from swimming at the lake bc his swim trunks are not hiding how he feels abt watching bucky shirtless playing around in the water like a dog
getting stuck on washing-and-hanging-all-the-tie-dye-shirts duty together and flirting while they do it
taking the kids on a very ill advised hike together on a rope trail that grew over and washed away like a decade ago just to see if they can manage it
white water rafting and capsizing and immediately looking for each other in the commotion (do NOT trust these men w your kids they are reckless and busy being overinvolved w each other)
…I Like A Pretty Skirt | E, 14k, 'I'm Just A Girl...' Part 4
They've been hooking up for awhile now but there's something they haven't done yet. Something that Gale craves and thinks this new outfit just might get him.
kinda really need bucky witnessing gale doing #90 and having a whole situation about it
90. making weird faces as an itch that you can’t scratch at the moment trickles over your face
“Would you just-no. Stop. Not that way. Goddamnit, John.”
“Alright. I’m trying my best here, okay?”
“You’re the one who said we could do it without any help.”
A wooden step creaks under John’s weight as he steps back, waiting for Gale higher up on the stairs before he dares to move down another couple. The strain of the heavy sofa makes John’s arms ache from taking the bulk of it, but Gale was right. He did insist they’d be able to move the furniture from upstairs without any help. John didn't have any room to complain.
Gale stops suddenly, and his eyes shut, nose scrunching. Isn't that the cutest damn thing, John thinks.
John huffs a laugh, momentarily forgetting about the weight in his arms, “Jeez, what’s wrong with you?”
“It’s just an itch,” Gale hisses through his teeth, eyes still closed tight. John can see the way they twitch beneath his eyelids.
“Gale,” John warns with a teasing smile, a curl knocked loose falling across his forehead, “Don’t you drop this on me, doll face.”
Gale is frustrated, and John is pushing his buttons, he knows he is. Can see the annoyance in the way Gale’s brow knits together, and when his baby blues open he pierces John with a look that has John floundering. Feeling a lot like getting scolded in school as a kid.
“I won’t,” Gale says, evenly.
No one would know he was upset, save for John. John, who always notices the heave of his breath, the hint of an exasperated sigh that follows. The warning laced underneath his words.
John shuts his trap and they make it to the bottom of the stairs without incident. The sofa gets set onto the worn floors with a thud, and John stands up straight, carefully watching Gale.
Gale tilts his head to the ceiling, hands on his hips as his lips part, mouthing numbers as he counts down from ten. John knows Gale had been taught that as a child, still applied it as a man in his thirties. Sometimes, John thought he was too often the reason for it.
John lets him finish in silence before rounding the bulky piece of furniture, sitting himself on the arm of it, right in front of Gale.
“Hey,” John tries, hooking loose fingers into Gale’s belt loops.
Gale braces his hands on John's shoulders. The steely look in the shine of his eyes hadn't quite gone away.
John smiles, tongue between his teeth as he runs a light hand over the pressed front of Gale's shirt, “No wonder you’re itchy, probably all the starch.”
“John.”
“I know...I know. Sorry, sweetheart,” John says, abandoning the teasing for good this time as he untucks the fabric of the shirt from the secure fastening of Gale's belt. Slipping his fingers beneath the cotton and scratching up Gale’s side with the blunt edges of his nails. John wasn’t sure where the itch was, or had been, but he might just get lucky.
When Gale arches into the touch like a cat getting a good pet, John smiles. The way Gale's face softens makes John feel all warm and lovey. Couldn't fight it if he tried, and wanted to make sure he could always put that look back where it belonged.
Gale is looking at John with something gentler when he brushes the hair out of John’s face with the back of his hand. The bony touch of his knuckles rest light against John's temple. "I love you," he murmurs.
John's hands find holds on the bare skin of Gale's waist. He looks up at Gale with something pleading in his eyes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for being a pest sometimes, I'd like to make it up to you until the day we die.
Gale leans forward, pressing a wordless kiss to the centre of John's forehead. Both a thank you, and his own apology.
“I’ll find someone to help us with the rest,” John promises quietly.
Years before Gale understands what arousal is, he watches two men grapple in an alley.
It’s something to watch. Something to keep the sleep at bay for a few more minutes as their clothes rumple and their heels kick up dust. Mostly in shadow, Gale can only see because he’s been sitting in the dark for hours. Anyone walking by would likely think it’s no more than two alley cats sciffling. At first he thinks they’re drunk, settling a score started over a card table. Bodies pushing together then apart, soft panting noises like weeping. A crowd at their hips, hands in the mix grasping and pulling.
Gale watches, breath a shallow ache in his chest and understands, through some sort of childish instinct, that this was something that should be kept a secret between him and the stars.
Ive had a terrible no good very bad week and all i want is the people’s princess Austin Butler getting his back blown out by Mr Callum Turner to make it better :(
okay once again an ask has gotten away from me no idea if it's any good but i had a nice time. hope next week is better anon <3
they barely see each other anymore. their weird burned-too-bright, up-each-other's-(proverbial)-asses-all-day, spilling-their-guts-to-each-other friendship got put on the most sudden of backburners after filming ended, and then a sort of second time after press tour.
they don't really know how to talk about it, and the less and less they see each other the less and less they feel like they should. like maybe the homoerotic pseudo-romantic thing they had going on doesn't need to be talked about because it's sooo in the past now right?? they don't know how to process it, even though they still love seeing each other when the opportunity arises.
BUT. what they do know how to do ☝️ is fuck about it
austin is in london for something or another, or maybe he was in paris at the same time as callum, and austin's got just enough time to come visit for a couple of days. austin has a couple of people he wants to see and catch up with other than his complicated non-situationship friend, but he frankly lies and tells them he won't be in london until the next day.
bc as soon as he sets foot into callum's apartment callum's got him pressed into the wall and the things they haven't said to each other are going to take at least a day to fuck about. they really never have enough time to fuck about it, but they sure do try.
callum's the kind of guy that's all smiles and puppydog and silly but as soon as it's the time and place for it his emotions are just pouring out of him, and since he can't pour them out in any constructive way anymore with austin it comes out in a cruel type of fucking.
keeping austin clothed, bending him over the furniture with no intent to fuck him there (yet), running his hands all along him because he's there and when is the next time callum will get to do it? and austin basks in it like a reptile. he loves the attention, he loves the tease, he loves being the only thing callum is focusing on.
rubbing austin through his clothes, inching them up but just to see a bit of skin, not to take anything off. pulling his jeans down over his ass but not his underwear, wants to look at the absurd curve of his ass but doesn't want to give austin the satisfaction of skin on skin there.
kissing him deep and slow and messy and it's the only deep thing callum gives him for so long that austin is getting visibly flustered. stupid and pushy and irritated with how turned on he is.
austin takes his shirt off and starts going for his pants before callum stop him and gets him over the arm of the sofa.
"you in a rush?" he asks, knowing damn well obviously austin is in a rush. they only have so much time. why aren't they fucking already??
austin doesn't respond because he's bad at talking during sex, he gets too stupid for it, which is just fine with callum because at least he knows how to moan for him.
he grabs austin by the hips and manages to finagle him upstairs, which is a challenge because they're kissing and smashing into the walls the entire time and at one point they end up completely falling over each other on the stairs, austin on callum's lap kissing the absolute life out of him.
and callum is insane about it, really, again, he has a lot he can't say and he hates not saying it, so he gets austin into the bathroom and into the shower and turns the water on while they've still got most of their clothes on. austin is too gone to even acknowledge it, just grabs at callum's sopping wet tshirt and pulls him in to kiss against the shower wall.
and once callum can't take it anymore he turns austin over, shoves him into the tile and gets his pants down properly.
"this what you were waiting for?" he asks, right up in his ear, pressing their bodies tight. he gets a couple of fingers between austin's asscheeks and pets over the hole there. "this? hm?"
austin nods against the shower wall and he looks like a perfectly drowned rat, eyelashes all full of water he hasn't wiped away and hair a wet mess. austin groans when callum pushes a finger in, and callum makes his own little noise at it, like he can feel it on his dick already.
and it's just a little too much, callum is just a little too impatient, and that one finger was surely enough, and austin probably prepped himself anyway, knowing he'd visit, and anyway austin has always liked it a little flawed and hurried and rough so callum really does have to get his cock in him now
he takes just a moment to take in the sight of his own cock between austin's cheeks, how even there his skin is all warm glow and beauty marks. teases him there for jusst long enough to have him going tense with anticipation before he tucks the tip of his cock inside. they both grunt at the pressure, at the relentless push of callum's cock as it inches its way in.
and when callum slides back out austin gives him a proper whimper and then it's no holds barred, line crossed, breaking point and callum gets an arm around austin's throat and a hand grabbing clumsy at the base of austin's cock and he gives it to him like he's been waiting for.
it's hard and loud and austin finds enough voice to give him a couple of "fuck"s and "cal"s between his unholy sounds. he's hot and smooth and perfect inside but the water and precum only does so much so callum gets him out of the shower, gets both of them unclothed, gets austin over the counter where he can grab for the vaseline in the medicine cabinet (he doesn't keep lube in the bathroom, he's generally not fucking people in the bathroom, and he's definitely not going all the way across the hall to the bedroom to get lube)
it gives callum a perfect view of austin getting fucked. he can look down and watch his slicked up cock disappear, look at the pretty moles dotting austin's pretty back, and then look up into the mirror to watch austin's face as he gets fucked with no restraint.
callum pulls at austin's hair so he can see his face better in the mirror, so they can both see his face. grips him and holds him there.
he's spitting absolute filth at austin now, "you like that?" "yeah?" "look at yourself" "look" and austin's arms are shaking where he's holding himself up over the counter.
it's so nice to watch austin fall apart. all that time callum has spent watching him parading around parties and events, put together to an inhuman extent and charming everyone he speaks to and staying cool even when he's being playful, confident because he forces himself to be. but callum knows what he looks like when he's crying and he knows what he looks like when he's genuinely happy and he knows what he looks like getting fucked in the mirror, whining and moaning and beside himself. and jesus he feels good on callum's cock.
they've barely even touched austin's cock, but callum knows that isn't even what it's about for austin. it's not about that for him either. it's not about coming. it's not about an orgasm. it's about this, it's about this time suspended here where nothing else exists, just the feeling and the sounds, just the sight of each other, just their skin together. it's about taking the little moments they have and making something big out of them because they can't have anything else.
but it is nice to watch austin come. and the night is young. and callum's dick and balls are begging for him finish what he started!! so he gives in an wraps an arm around to slick up austin's cock, and before he can even start in on him in earnest austin is crumbling in his arms.
he starts collapsing on the counter but they catch themselves just enough on their way down to not completely brain themselves on the counter or snap a limb, and then callum is jerking austin through an orgasm verging on violent and fucking him into the floor like an animal. by the time callum's orgasm hits austin is crumpled all the way to the ground reduced to open-mouthed panting so callum follows him down
they lie on the floor for just long enough that the 'we're lying on the bathroom floor' doesn't set it, and it's kind of nice, just breathing with each other.
"should we talk about this?" callum asks because he's feeling a little more himself now and he just can't help it, he's gotta ruin the moment.
“Buck is a fighter pilot. A fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus.”
This is such a ridiculously lovesick Bucky moment that I almost don’t know what to do with myself watching it.
‘Would you rather have been a fighter pilot’ isn’t an insult! They’ve quite literally just toasted Gale’s flying ability, nobody is impugning his skills as a pilot. But here comes John anyway, making sure everyone in the vicinity knows that there’s nothing on this entire planet of Earth that Buck should be doing different or could be doing better.
Honestly he’s kind of lucky “heavy petting” was all that the Brits had to say about whatever they had going on. (Which, by the way, centering Buck in the shot as this discussion is happening was a CHOICE, a choice that makes it GAYER)
Gale tries to be gentle drawing the curtain open. He really does. But, it’s been a long night.
It was his third 12-hour shift in a row and at some point he had lost track of the number of people he had seen so far. The energy drink he had gulped down thirty minutes ago had done very little to sharpen him up. Instead he had heart palpitations now and seeing the name on the chart had made him even more jittery.
"John Egan?"
He called out as he walked in, already sanitizing his hands. Voice flat and unimpressed.
The guy sitting on the bed grinned, teeth huge and tinted red with blood.
"Hey Buck. Fancy seeing you here."
Gale tried not to huff at the nickname and scanned John up and down while he pulled a pair of gloves on. He could see the red swollen patches on his knuckles layered over old bruises. His white tank looked wet with sweat, stuck to his torso, smeared with dirt and blood. Gale's eyes lingered for a second longer than they should have before he forced them back up to follow the droplets up to John’s face where his nose was bleeding down to his lips, darkening at the base. His nose was definitely broken.
Gale sighed and skimmed the chart while reaching for the blood pressure cuff mounted on the wall beside the stretcher. He doubted there would be anything new in there since last week John was in.
"What happened?" He asked, though he already knew the answer and rolled the first aid tray forward with his foot.
"Oh you know me Buck, innocent as always. Didn't see it coming."
Gale narrowed his eyes.
"Arm."
John looked at him for a second before offering it over. The cuff tightened around his bicep.
"Did you lose consciousness at all? Black out?"
"Nah."
"Any nausea? Lightheadedness? Dizziness?"
"Don't worry Buck, ain't got a concussion."
The machine beeped softly beside them. Gale typed a few notes into the chart. He took the cuff off, eyes mapping the red indentations it left on John’s biceps.Gale tried to ignore the flex of the muscles. Walking to stand in front of him, he used two fingers under John's chin to tilt his head gently toward the light. John huffed in pain.
“Thought so” Gale sighed.
The bridge of his nose was swollen and crooked.
Definitely broken.
Gale reached for a piece of gauze and wiped away some of the blood obscuring the injury before pressing a fresh stack into John's hand.
"Hold pressure."
John took it but didn't move. Smirking at Gale instead.
"John."
That earned him an exaggerated sigh before John finally pressed the gauze to his nose.
"There. Happy?"
“Yes“
John snorted.
Gale wished that laugh didn't sound quite so familiar anymore.
"Your nose is broken."
"No it isn't."
Gale stared at him. Blood was still seeping through the gauze.
"It's visibly crooked."
"Maybe it always looked like that."
"It didn't."
"You don't know that."
"I unfortunately know exactly what your face looks like."
That grin appeared again immediately. Gale felt warmth spreading through his chest.
He regretted saying it the second it left his mouth.
He turned to Gale clicked through the chart. His eyes skimmed the text he had already copy pasted from his previous notes.
Male. Thirty years old. No known allergies. Repeat patient.
Repeat patient felt like an underestimate.
"You fight the same guy again?" Gale asked, unable to hold his curiosity in.
John barked out a laugh.
"What?"
"The fact that you think it's always the same guy."
Gale looked up.
"It isn't?"
"No."
For some reason that made it worse.
"Jesus Christ, Bucky.”
"What?"
"You know most people don't spend every firday night getting punched in the face."
John considered that.
“What you mean is most people won’t spend friday nights getting told off by a hot nurse”
Gale frowned. He should’ve noticed it sooner. Should have gotten a whiff when he was examining his face.
“Are you intoxicated right now?”
The laugh that followed sounded rough around the edges, like the broken nose was making it difficult
John had strung Benny along for months, with Johnny's stupid nickname and feigned ignorance, waiting until the most comedically timed moment to reveal his con. Forcing Johnny to apologize for his machinations, and Benny to accept the apology with a barely hidden grin and an even less hidden interest in his eyes. And John had picked well, Benny was handsome. Stout and strong and steady in a way that had Johnny sweating through his shirt slightly, tugging the light fabric away from his chest before the sweat dimpled it. He'd given Benny his number, taken his, and weathered the triumphant crowing from John as Meatball had wound himself between their legs.
The exchanging of phone numbers had felt like a massive step off a flight of stairs into the darkness, Johnny taking it without realizing how perilous his footing really was. And so though he and Benny had chatted for a bit over text, a lump had begun to form in Johnny's throat that grew larger and larger until it choked away all his ability to reply.
Johnny had enough going on. He had enough baggage without trying to teach someone how to carry any of it. He was too busy with his work.
thank you to my dearest @reallylilyreally for editing this one for me <33
Favorite headcanon is that yeah, there WAS a Buck from Manitowoc, but the only thing that The Original Buck and Gale Winston Cleven have in common is the way John felt when he met them for the first time, not their looks
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