Bucky Barnes (
advanced) wrote in
fossilised2017-03-14 08:58 pm
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It's AU time
Building 64 down in the East end of Brooklyn was not a fashionable place to live. The apartments were small, barely more than studio size, and the rent was pretty cheap. Not many people lived there permanently, most people only came and stayed a year or two to get enough money together to move onto somewhere better. But there were two residents who had been there a while.
Steven Grant Rogers, early twenties, who earned his rent doing tattoo designs part time to fund his college course, and occasionally dipped his toe into online art commissions. He'd moved in there when his mother had died four years previously, leaving him enough money to get by, but not enough that he could stop working. And right across the hall was Natalia Romanova, an aspiring ballerina from Russia. She was tough as hell, she had worked herself right through high school, paid her own way to America when she didn't even speak the language, and kept going through tenacity alone.
Somehow a friendship had struck up between them when Steve had been the first person not to look at her like she was an idiot or disgusting for not speaking the language. He'd helped her learn, and they'd been firm friends for the last three years. Everyone else was transient, coming and going, not really making an impact. Natalia had friends and a boyfriend outside of the apartment, but she sometimes worried that Steve never seemed to do anything but work and study.
Which was probably why he would be in his apartment when a loud crash sounded on the stairs outside. Said crash had come from a box of (now very broken) plates and bowls being dropped by the man just moving in to the apartment directly above Steve's, judging by the amount of cardboard boxes that were littering the hallway. He was tall, muscled, dressed in faded jeans and a hoodie with long slightly scruffy hair, leather gloves, and deep blue eyes.
Steven Grant Rogers, early twenties, who earned his rent doing tattoo designs part time to fund his college course, and occasionally dipped his toe into online art commissions. He'd moved in there when his mother had died four years previously, leaving him enough money to get by, but not enough that he could stop working. And right across the hall was Natalia Romanova, an aspiring ballerina from Russia. She was tough as hell, she had worked herself right through high school, paid her own way to America when she didn't even speak the language, and kept going through tenacity alone.
Somehow a friendship had struck up between them when Steve had been the first person not to look at her like she was an idiot or disgusting for not speaking the language. He'd helped her learn, and they'd been firm friends for the last three years. Everyone else was transient, coming and going, not really making an impact. Natalia had friends and a boyfriend outside of the apartment, but she sometimes worried that Steve never seemed to do anything but work and study.
Which was probably why he would be in his apartment when a loud crash sounded on the stairs outside. Said crash had come from a box of (now very broken) plates and bowls being dropped by the man just moving in to the apartment directly above Steve's, judging by the amount of cardboard boxes that were littering the hallway. He was tall, muscled, dressed in faded jeans and a hoodie with long slightly scruffy hair, leather gloves, and deep blue eyes.
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He'd gotten her new leg warmers with matching ballet shoe cozies. He had no idea they existed but evidently they kept toe shoes from being scuffed up and made walking in them when not on point a little easier. The gift and the drawings got him a pleased Russian in his lap, taking the total to three in the puppy pile on the sofa. He was perfectly content, though, whatever mellowing drug in the cookies and the abundance of alcohol in the nog left Steve warm and happy.
Thor and Bucky did most of the cooking when everyone decided that they were getting hungrier than the cookie part of the pot cookies could help and though Thor had already done most of the cooking at home, he had a massive spread to heat up. They ended up using all three ovens in all three apartments that afternoon.
Nat took a nap in the pile of cards Thor made for her and that left Loren and Steve to set up a series of tables in Steve's living room to hold everyone for dinner.
And Steve had to poke his nose in.
"You should invite him to dinner," he told Loren, almost wary. "He seemed really nice."
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Loren had been quite sociable that morning. Aside from sending the occasional text, he had proven himself to have a razor sharp wit and a quick mind, keeping most of them entertained with stories of Thor's various stupid exploits and his own pranks in childhood. None of his stories ever went back further than his early teens, for he had been adopted at ten and the first few years had not been plain sailing. He did not wish any to know he had not always been Thor's natural brother.
"I do not recall asking for advice," he said, voice decidedly unimpressed. "My brother does not yet know, now I hardly the time to spring it on him."
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He probably had a lot of partners. Maybe that was the issue? Maybe Tony was a piece on the side? That was sad. Loren had looked genuinely worried when Tony had been injured. And Tony seemed genuinely into him.
All of those babies... People didn't coo that unless they were in love.
Probably.
"It's Christmas. That's a great time to introduce people."
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He quite liked Steve. He was polite, kind, generally quiet, and had a nice easy order to fill when he came into the shop. That did not mean that they were bosom friends and he would not tolerate having his personal life dug into. He hated that beyond all things, which made it amazing that he had struck up such a closeness with Anthony Stark, of all people, who didn't understand personal boundaries at all.
The two of them had met when Loren's car had broken down and he had taken it in to the nearest garage, the mechanic on duty had happened to be Anthony who had immediately barrelled into questions about his accent, if his eyes were actually that green or if they were contacts, and why hadn't he already given over his phone number? It had taken a long time for Loren to be comfortable with him, but now they had been together a long time and he was reluctant to share him.
"My relationship with Anthony does not concern you, nor any other here, so I would advise keeping your thoughts to yourself."
Unfortunately for Loren, Bucky was even now spilling the beans. It was the alcohol, it made him far too loose-lipped, and he was leaning over Thor with a big plate of turkey, slightly flushed and grinning.
"S'kinda stupid, but I think I love him. Like-- is that crazy? I've only known him a few months and we've only been dating like two days. Fuck, it is crazy. I should-- I should ask Loren how long it took for him to fall in love with his boyfriend, right?"
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Some of his friends from the fire house had hot and bookish sisters. Of their wives or husbands did. He'd tried to set Loren up with a man once but that had gone badly so he assumed he was perhaps a little homophobic.
In reality, it was the same man that he'd tried to set Steve up with that immediately tried to bench press them both. It hadn't gone well on either. Strangely!
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He had quite like what little he had seen of the older man, he at least seemed apologetic when he realised how badly out of it Bucky had been. Like he was an asshole on the surface, but not actually one underneath.
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Loren didn't trust him. They had been family since Loren was just a child (and Thor had been too), and the older of the two thought the world of his little brother. He was fiercely protective and loyal of him. That was why when Loren said he'd be going to America to open up a book store, Thor had come too. He couldn't leave him fend for himself! Loren was not technically his blood but he was part of his soul.
It was easy for Thor to overpower his brother. Easy to pull the phone out of his pocket and keep him from snatching it away. He clicked the voice to text feature on Tony's latest reply (Those green heels that match your eyes? Count me in!) and shouted up at the device what the address of this building was.
Now it didn't turn out perfectly and his shouting to stay down also was translated to text, but it was sent off before Loren could manage to say anything. "Your boyfriend will join us. I will decide if he is good enough for you," Thor scowled.
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"Sorry," he mumbled, stepping forwards. "I told him. I didn't think, I'm really-- sorry."
Loren glared over at the soldier, and inwardly vowed to make sure his life became just as ruined as Loren's would be by the time this day was over. He had not wanted Thor to meet Anthony, and it had little to do with trust or love. There was nobody in this world that he loved and trustd more than his older brother, and yet-- Thor was so very Thor. Everyone loved him, precious few loved Loren.
"You do not have the power to make that choice," snarled Loren, snatching for his phone. "You are not my keeper, and I do not require your permission or approval for my social life."
He switched into a smooth, but no less angry, stream or Norwegian so that only Thor could understand him.
"You will take him from me, Thor, and I will not permit that. You have always taken all that is mine and I will stand for it no longer, if you take him from me then I will never speak to you again. Do you understand me? I will have no brother."
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Thor was taken aback. His brother's thick bokmal accent, different from his own, was almost frantic in its anger and Thor was patient at least until the rant was finished. "I have not now," he replied in Norwegian, "nor ever have tried to take anyone from you. I am happy with Natalia. She is all I want."
The name did have Steve looking concerned. He wasn't sure what they were discussing, but he tried to think the best.
"I only want you to be happy. And if he must be worthy of you."
Luckily, Tony and Thor wouldn't exactly be fast friends. Tony was too brash and needing to exert his masculinity. He didn't care for competition the way that Thor did. He just wanted to immediately be the best.
They would be oil and water.
Steve left the table prep to see to Bucky, sliding under his arm to lightly kiss the corner to his mouth. "Enough drinking for you, dump truck."
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No matter what Thor said, Loren feared down to his soul that he would lose Anthony. He did not get attached easily, but he became fiercely attached once he allowed himself to become so. He loved Anthony, much more than he usually let himself show, and he did not ever want to lose him. The age difference didn't matter, the cultural difference didn't matter, he was just what Loren wanted.
Bucky tried to ignore the argument going on and leaned into Steve, putting his head on one slender shoulder in utter mortification. "I was talking about being in love with you," he said, once again letting his stupid drunk mouth get away with him. "Thought Loren could tell me if it was dumb to be in love that fast, and then I sort of told Thor. I didn't mean to. Jesus Christ, I'm an idiot."
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Thor and Loren seemed to be at odds, now, but Steve hoped that a little Christmas magic would happen. Especially when Loren's boyfriend got here. Whenever they would be.
It turned out that the hum of a motorcycle pulling into the alley ten minutes later, just after Thor angrily mashed the peas and the corn along with the potatoes to get out his frustration, would signal the arrival of a certain someone not yet cleared by his doctor to ride his motorcycle. Or drive his car. But Tony wasn't going to be waiting around for a Lyft or an Uber. On Christmas. Nat arrived with one of Thor's cards stuck to her cheek to tell them they someone was intercomning her apartment.
"Do we know a... Hic! A Tony?"
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When Natalia returned, Loren simply swept out of the apartment and took the stairs two at a time down to street level to open the door personally rather than have him buzzed in. At least Anthony would know him well enough to see that today's scowl was genuine rather than feigned.
"It was my brother who invited you," he said shortly, not greeting Anthony though he did step close to press a quick kiss to his lips. "You should not have driven, you are not yet capable."
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Tony was never this understanding. But having driven over here on his bike without his sling and in a suit jacket since he had been in a rush to get over here, he was feeling a little bit bent out of shape that someone else had invited him to a holiday he ought to have been spending with the man he loved.
There was a defiance in his eyes, the sort that said that his heart would still break if Loren turned him away but he'd manage like he always did.
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"My brother is not like me, he is loud and hearty and all who meet him love him."
Anthony was perceptive, it was one of the reasons they got on so well, he would surely catch the slight bitterness in his voice that told of friends past who had decided they liked Thor more than Loren.
"You are mine, Anthony, and I wished to keep you that way. I have few things that belong only to me."
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He was still so battered and bruised (it had been only two evenings ago that he and Loren had seen each other since his accident), but Tony held himself with enough confidence to kill a horse. It was impressive and terrible at the same time.
"Unless he's exactly like you, I can guarantee you that I'm going to like you better. I don't usually go for men. So he's got to have an impressive rack for me to even notice him." It wasn't the first time that Tony said he was Loren-sexual. Tony took Loren's band and lightly kissed his knuckles. "Show me to the egg nog. It better be spiked. I didn't take my pain killers."
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"You are a fool, and I shall have them refuse you eggnog. If you cannot recall your own medication then you deserve to be in pain."
He nevertheless tugged Anthony inside and up the stairs, and into Natalia's apartment where the others were trying to pretend the atmosphere wasn't awkward. If Anthony had not already met Steven and Bucky (and what kind of name was Bucky?) in the coffee shop, then he might have been forgiven for thinking Bucky was Loren's brother, for they at least shared the same colouring.
"Anthony Stark, this is Natalia Romanova, this is her apartment. Steven Rogers, a neighbour, and his partner Bucky Barnes. And that, in the kitchen, is my brother, Thor."
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"Merry Christmas. Don't I feel overdressed," he said, going around to shake hands, left arm limp and in pain at his side. "Don't worry I don't always look like this," he joked. "I pissdd off a car lift--"
"Ah! That is where I know you from!" Natalia said, offering Tony the eggnog that Loren had previously denied him. "You are on the billboards for the garage by the water. Stsrk!"
Tony grinned. "Guilty."
He was about to head over to shake Thor's hand when the man who had always been so puppy-like with his meatheadedness came to stand over him. Tony didn't shrink back but he did have to tilt up his head to gaze at him. "You are short."
Tony arched an eyebrow. "I'm average. You're just behemoth," Tony snarked back.
"Your beard is strange," Thor continued, frowning.
Tony rubbed across it. "Is it? Do you think so, Lore?"
Thor was trying not to be likeable. Tony saw right through that.
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"Do not do this, my brother," warned Loren in Norwegian, though it was without the sharpness he had used before. He just sounded tired now, like he saw the inevitable coming. "Be yourself."
Switching back to English, Loren pretended to look Anthony over speculatively, and shrugged.
"It is very strange, but it also suits you well. I would not care for you clean shaven."
"Uh..." Bucky had held back, unsure how hated he was right then for having caused all of this, but not wanting to be rude. "Hey, Merry Christmas, nice to meet you. I don't think I actually thanked you for the coffee before and apologised for-- that."
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"No you're fine-- and do they do this all the time? With the Norwegian?" Tony glanced to the side at the brothers as Thor scowled genuinely at Loki and told him in Norwegian that he was not going to risk losing Loren for anything. Not even a mechanic.
Tony thought it was more cute than annoying and he sat down carefully on Natalia's small sofa. They'd all be eating here? They should have come to his place.
He stretched his uninjured arm behind the couch and sighed before he said, cheekily and in Norwegian: "You're the only man for me, Loren. I promise."
What? He'd been dating a Norwegian for over a year now. Of course he was going to Rosetta Stone the language!
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"Your pronunciation is abysmal, Anthony," he chided, though there was a small smile on his lips and his shoulders had relaxed somewhat. "Thor, apologise to Anthony for your behaviour and start over. What issues there are will be discussed when we are not in public company."
Bucky rubbed at his nose and leaned in towards Steve. "Do you understand what the hell is going on here?"
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Thor let out a thunderous laugh and clapped his hands before leading them all like ducklings to where the table had been set and the turkey carved in Steve's apartment. He noticed that Tony kept his hand at the small of Loren's back, not exactly leading him so much as making him aware of his presence. He might be hoping to be comforting or just pleased and affectionate. Steve was happy for the two. Even if Loren was still a jerk.
Natalia and Steve took the heads of the tables, with the others filling in. Thor made some speach about love and friendship and made a big show of kissing Nat (that wasn't staged, he really was just that sort of person) before demanding plates and meat choices from the bird.
Dinner was delicious. They learned a little bit about Tony and Steve made sure to steer the conversation away from Bucky when possible. No need to get any of that started again.
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But his revenge could wait until the proper moment.
Bucky was content to watch and listen through most of the meal, though he did end up in a spirited debate with Tony over which sort of engine was best in a motorcycle at one point (he favoured speed over power or noise), which ended in them actually exchanging phone numbers.
When the meal was done and they were all satiated, Natalia pulled Steve into the kitchen under the guise of helping her get the dishes sorted and pressed an affectionate kiss to his forehead.
"Tell me, Steve, are you happy? I do not like him if he is not good for you."
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He rubbed a hand over his face. Only Natalia could get him to tell her such things. She wasn't his best friend for nothing. Steve turned on the water and started to pile dishes into the sink.
"I've been having the craziest, sexiest dreams about him."
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She swung her arms around him and peppered embarrassing kisses all over his cheeks and forehead, beaming.
"I will make excuses for you to go home this afternoon, I remember how fun the first weeks are of not wanting to get out of bed. I want to have to put music on because of how loud you are even across the hall, understand me?"
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Nat knew the arm thing. And the PTSD thing.
"But he's so cute-- people that live upstairs from you aren't supposed to be so cute but uh...! The first time I saw him I thought he was an actor. Those eyes... The cleft in his chin--". Steve had never been turned on so much just being with someone. "He likes me because I'm wholesome. What if that stops because I..."
He was not going to come right out and tell Nat about how much he wanted to blow his new boyfriend. That would be rude.
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