fossilised | It's AU time

Loren contented himself with a glare when his nature was brought up, but the rigours of being awake even such a short time and the morphine were sending him back to a slumber that he couldn't fight. He missed the end of Thor's conversation, deeply asleep by the time the phone was hung up. He missed Anthony returning from the cafeteria and being told that Mrs. Odinson was on her way to America just as soon as she could get a flight out, and he missed Anthony falling asleep beside him some time later.

Across town it had been two days since Bucky returned home and had that serious conversation with Steve, since he had promised to do something about his PTSD and not ignore it any more, and things had been... better. It was amazing how fast the world was moving on, fixing things, and forcing life to go back to normal. The subways had finally been repaired enough for a basic service to resume, and Steve had been frantically called in because apparently the tattoo studio was rammed with young and rich people who wanted tattoos to 'remind themselves that every day was precious' or in 'memory of this tragedy', when none of them had even been anywhere near it. Simply appropriating it for their own sense of self worth.

It would be getting fairly late when his boss poked her head in the room where he would be doing a consultation with a twenty year old girl who wanted a shooting star with the words 'never 4get' in cursive underneath, and who was resisting any advice to maybe get the lettering done a bit thinner, or that 'forget' was usually not spelled '4get'.

"Steve? You've got six more before I can let you go home, you okay with that? Your next one is a real dish, shame he's come here."

She wasn't under any illusions of the sort of people her parlour attracted. Handsome, but usually vapid and annoying.

Steve was exhausted. He hadn’t wanted to come in, mostly because Bucky was so adamant about it, but he found that he didn’t fear the subway like he thought he might and the strange quiet of military occupied streets didn’t bother him as much as he thought it might. New York had never looked worse…or felt safer.

When Mickey poked her head in, Steve sighed. He smiled at the girl across from him and mentioned that her session had been over ten minutes ago. “I’ll have to charge you for another hour of consultation if we don’t wrap this up.” He ultimately let her take her badly spelled and typeset tattoo out to the main room for the ‘artists’ to trace and then ink on her about three minutes later.

Steve shook out his hands, spun his chair around twice, and set out a fresh set of papers. His pencils were sharpened and he stood up with an ache in his legs to poke his head out from the curtain and smile towards the row of seats.

“Happy New Year, you can come in now. I’m Steve Rogers…”

Bucky still wasn't good about leaving the house, but something about knowing he could if he felt it was truly necessary had given him a bit more backbone about it. Besides, the streets and the subway were quiet, easier for him to navigate, which was how he found himself actually sat in the waiting room of Steve's tattoo parlour.

Despite the slight nervous creases around his eyes, his smile was genuine as he stood up and followed Steve into the room.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers," he murmured, hint of a tease in his voice. "I'm James Barnes, and I'm here for an initial consultation? I have some scar tissue that I want covering up, and there's only one artist I'd trust to do it."

He was serious about this whole moving on crap, and he could barely bear to look at himself in the mirror some days with the scars and the stump. Maybe if he concealed what he could with art then it would become beautiful to him again. Assuming they could even tattoo over the scars safely.

Steve just blinked up at Bucky before his face lit up and he squeezed the offered hand too tightly. In his blue collared shirt and neatly parted hair, Steve looked more like the IT guy than the resident artist of the shop, but his office was certainly more like a studio than even his studio at home. He made sure to tie the curtains closed behind Bucky, not that it would really keep anyone out, but he double knotted it just the same.

“That so? Can I see what I’m working with?”

He didn’t mind being a little cheeky here at all, the corners of his lips tilting up as he offered Bucky a seat and got him a glass of ice water with lemon and limes in it. How refreshing1 Nevermind that it was still freezing out. Mickey was particular about her client experience.

Bucky stared at the glass of water and then up at Steve with a raised eyebrow as if to ask what sort of place this was, before he just grabbed the front of that blue collared shirt and pulled him down to kiss him, briefly but passionately.

"What the hell is this supposed to be, Steve? Do your normal clients really want lemon and lime water? Seriously?"

He might be trying to pull Steve down onto his lap in an entirely unprofessional way, not even coming close to taking off his hoodie, shirt, or prosthetic.

"Yeah, seriously. I'm usually not part of the experience in this way, though," Steve said, not even slightly annoyed as he dropped into Bucky's lap with the smallest semblance of possibly attempting to discourage such behavior. "I'll have to charge you extra, you know?"

Maybe they shouldn't waste time making out when they had spent New Years Eve and New Years Day and the day after that pretty much naked and trying to race each other through a massive box of condoms, but sex and a relationship of this caliber was new to Steve and despite his physical ailments, he had a lot of stamina.

He did, however, manage to get Bucky's shirt undone after a small struggle at least.

"Tell me what you want and we'll make it happen, Buck."

The feel of Steve in his lap was a good one, a perfect weight, and he might be contemplating if he could both convince his boyfriend and be quick enough to take him right here in the tattoo parlour because having him there, smelling and feeling like he did, was making it hard to keep his hand to himself.

"I don't care."

It was a low mumble as he dipped his head to kiss at Steve's neck and jawline, not caring about if his shirt was taken off, or if the prosthetic was pulled away from him. Steve had pretty effectively smashed any nerves he might have about being bare in front of him by now.

"All I know at the moment is blood and death, and you. You're-- everything good about my world, I want you to take that and put it on my skin. You're the artist, whatever you design is cool. Hell, I'll even let them ink me blind without ever seeing it, that's how much I trust you."

There was a part of Steve that itched to have his vision realized. Her could do amazing things on Bucky's skin to mask the scars and make them beautiful. He found the scars themselves hauntingly beautiful too, but he understood why Bucky wanted them gone. "I need your input. It's less about trust and more about collaboration," Steve said as he tried to stand -- or sit -- his ground while Bucky felt him up.

He let the arm drop with a clatter and lightly massaged the area that the prosthetic chafed. He'd gotten Bucky into a regimine of using lotion like the Internet said after long wears and of using powder before he put it on. It was helping, slowly and surely.

"I can't just put my face across your shoulder. And I know you don't want anything too patriotic... Buck." Steve laughed and sat back on his knees, grinning down at the voracious man. "I promise that I'll make you orgasm twice after work. But first, let me get started on this for you. And then you can stay and silently judge everyone else I'm going to work on. How's that?"

Bucky couldn't help but snort as he imagined how terrible that tattoo would come out if Steve did all the worst things he could think of. But he still didn't let Steve off his lap, even with the hated prosthetic dropped to the floor and gentle fingers began massaging the areas where strap marks could still be seen.

"Steve, baby. If you wanted to put your face on the background of the American flag, while you shot bald eagles from your eyes and the words to the star spangled banner curled around my entire body, I'd let you do it. I might not have sex with you for a month, but I'd still let you do it."

He started to slip his hand into Steve's pants.

"I definitely want to collaborate with you, though. I'm so down for collaborating right here and right now."

Letting out a hot and heavy breath, mixed partially with a laugh, Steve put his hand to Bucky's wrist. "Is this how you plan to pay for my time?" He let his lips curl before his fingers released the man and pressed forward against his palm. "Because as much as I would like that, Mickey takes a little bit off the top of all of my private clients. And I want you to stay all mine."

Taking his libido was difficult but not impossible. Steve was capable of regulating himself and capable of resisting, even if he didn't want to.

"But to be honest, what you want isn't possible to sketch out in an hour. I'll need more one on one time. Can I pen you in for an appointment tonight?" Steve wasn't sure how long he was going to let Bucky fondle him, because he hadn't pulled his hand back yet. He was hard and needy and--- there were people lined up just past the curtain.

"Yeah, sorry. Your boss is probably a nice lady and all, but I have this thing for patriotic blond guys in bald eagle sweaters, nothing else does it for me."

He took the fact that Steve had released his wrist and pushed his hips forwards as permission to continue, so he gave into his desires and gripped his boyfriend to start jerking him off, voice a low growl in his ear.

"Jesus, Steve, you're so damn irresistible that I can't keep my hands off you. Makes me want to bend you over that desk right now and who gives a crap about the people waiting?"

But he wasn't that much of an asshole, he'd just give his boyfriend a hand job as fast as he could, not wanting to actually cost Steve his job or get him into trouble.

"But I'm not wearing my sweater," Steve protested, though it hardly mattered. He was forced to be as quiet as possible with his heart racing in a sort of restless, exhilarating fear as he pressed his face against Bucky's neck.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long to make a mess of Bucky's palm and even more thankfully, there were alcohol swabs on the desk to clean him up with after.

"So is this going to be a new thing?" Steve was seated across the work desk from Bucky some Fifteen minutes after he arrived, still breathing a little funny. Steve always had a sort of rasp he couldn't shake for a little while after strenuous activity. "Are you going to visit me for afternoon delights regularly?"

Steve couldn't help but blush at that. He was ridiculously giddy, both from the experience and from knowing that Bucky had braved his fears to come here.

Bucky fucking loved knowing that he could reduce his boyfriend to that quivering state in short order, and he couldn't help but watch his flushed cheeks and think about how goddamn sexy he was and how it was a crime against the world that he had still been single when Bucky came around.

"I don't know, Steve, this sounds like it could be some big work and need a lot of consultation time, but-- I'm kinda using all my disposable income for the month to pay for this one slot, so maybe not that regularly."

He would love to, but he knew that he had a limited amount of capability for going out still, and that had to be used economically.

"Besides, I might be kinda busy soon... the VA called this morning. Said they want me to come in for some sort of assessment, see what kind of help they think they can and should offer me."

Eyebrows raised, Steve leaned forward across the desk and spread his fingers across the paper he had not yet marked up. "Jeez, are you kidding me?! They told us it would be at least six weeks before they could fit you in--" Bucky had some powerful friends. He had the sort of security clearance that probably made parts of the brass a little worried.

Or maybe they were just afraid of the things Bucky did during the Great New York Scare.

"That's just fantastic, Buck. It's so fantastic. I'm right behind you. Anything you need, you got," Steve promised sincerely. "Even if that just includes free, late night sessions for your tattoo," Steve grinned.

He wasn't going to be charging Bucky for this.

"We should celebrate. I'm thinking that meatbun place we pass going back home? They're ballshaped."

It was the security clearance. His actions in the Great New York Scare had already been buried by Dum-Dum and some handy friends who knew how to wipe security tapes, nobody would ever suspect James Barnes of any wrongdoing there. But he had been in a high security covert ops team, a POW for a long time, and then disappeared off the grid when he made it back stateside... of course they wanted eyes on him again.

Bucky snorted and leaned over the desk to kiss Steve sweetly on the lips.

"Is it weird that when you say home, I think of your place?"

He had barely been back to his own since they started dating, only to change and shower every so often, and that one night when Becca had stayed over. It felt like his place was just storage, and that was pretty dumb.

"But yeah, I think I can go for those ball shaped treats."

"Our place. I was serious. I don't care if it's too soon. I really don't. Sometimes you just know when it's real and when it's right and I do know. I think I might have always. You just-- it clicked for me," Steve said, serious despite that kiss. Maybe because of that kiss. Maybe because of the man sitting with his shirt open across from him, with that fake arm on the floor, forgotten and unneeded.

He trusted Bucky. Even if he shot him.

Thankfully, that was just in the left shoulder and he didn't need it. He wasn't even wearing the sling. It didn't do a lot of good. The bullet had not hit bone or even any of the really important parts of the muscle or tendon. It had been clean through and yeah, it hurt, but that's what the medication was for.

As long as he didn't lift his arm over his head, he was fine.

Besides, he couldn't and didn't blame Bucky for any of it. That wasn't really Bucky. That was the man that still lived in the arrid rocky climate of the Middle East.

Maybe, given enough time, he'd be able to see that as the truth too. The good man he used to be was still under there, he just needed to fight to get him free from the demons of his past. Having someone who saw him that way, even despite all evidence to the contrary, was already a huge help.

"What the hell, let's do it."

Our place. He hadn't thought Steve was serious before, but he sure as hell believed him now. And, crazy as it was, he knew it was right too. He didn't want to be without Steve, he could see his future and this scrappy little punk would be by his side for every step of it.

"...Jesus, I need to get out of here before I actually toss you over the desk in celebration, I'll wait out with your other super interesting clients til you're done."

"Don't flirt too much with the tattooists. You're gorgeous and you're mine," Steve said in a streak of possessiveness. He gripped the man's hand as he kissed him, helped him on with his arm and buttoned up his shirt for him, and then was in the process of kissing him again, arching full body against his chest, when the curtain was yanked open by an overly priveledged blonde who waved her daddy's Amex card like it was a get out of jail free card.

"It's my turn and-- Eww! Wait, let me get my phone, cute!"

The whiplash was lost of Steve's coworkers, all of whom were staring as Steve released his hold on Bucky, blushing. "Um.. So... Uh... This is my boyfriend, Bucky and-- and okay, next."

After a moment of surprise, Bucky just gave the cockiest lopsided grin and pulled Steve in for one last kiss in front of everyone, and then turned to the watching coworkers and clients like a smug bastard.

"That's right, he's mine, feel the jealousy. It's okay, I'd be jealous too."

One of Steve's coworkers, a tattooist called Nate, snorted in absolute bemusement. Surely not. He hadn't even known good and pure looking Steve was gay, let alone had a boyfriend like this...

"Me! I'm next!" The entitled blonde pushed her phone away and swept into the curtained off area to take a seat on the consultation chair, even as a couple of Steve's coworkers started to approach Bucky curiously.

None of the people that Steve worked with were bad people but they were curious. Steve had been with the shop doing customs for almost a full year now and since he made them all look great, they had become really fond of him and maybe a little protective. Some of the designs he did were complicated and elaborate enough to give the artists hundreds of hours of work, and though Steve made some nice money on his art, they usually split tips with him too. So even if this guy he was dating looked like a movie star, they all wanted a little piece of kiddingly threatening Bucky about what they might do if Steve was hurt.

It was mostly funny.

Two unicorns, a cartoon space ship, three 4evers and one really thoughtful add on piece for a long term client later and Steve was ready to hang up his apron. He peeked his head out of the curtain where Bucky and some of his coworkers were laughing as they sat and prepped his last client for their ink.

"Please tell me it's safe to come out...?"

Bucky still wasn't good with social situations a lot of the time, and he had been more than a bit awkward once Steve disappeared, but had loosened up enough to laugh at a couple of jokes. He seemed a decent enough guy, at least, and Mickey said so when Steve finally poked his head out.

"Not bad, Rogers, but why hasn't he come in to get inked before now? I don't see any, unless all those clothes are hiding some nice art."

Bucky shook his head behind her just slightly. He knew that in the end the tattooist who inked him would have to know and see the scars, but he'd rather not mention why he had come in for a consultation so soon. He had managed to keep any of them from finding out he was a damaged vet, he'd rather keep it that way.

"I don't have any tattoos either," Steve said blandly. "And I didn't want you guys ogling him," he tried to pout but that actually came off a little fake. Steve wasn't good at this kind of teasing, and it made Mickey roll her eyes as she set her heavy booted feet up on an unoccupied seat. The buzzing sound of a gun in the background and some soft hisses and sighs blended into the low pop rock playing from someone's iPod.

"You don't have any tattoos because a needle would go right through your arm. I'm going to take your ink virginity one day, Steve. You just need to settle on your art," his boss grinned, leaning back. She was sleeveless, her arms wound up with roses. It was subtle. She was a safe sort of punk, the kind that made these fancy trust fund babies feel edgy and comfortable at the same time.

Steve laughed and marked down his figures in the ledger. "I can't get a tattoo. I always change my mind. And I'd like Bucky do me. He's got the steadiest hand I know."

Mickey arched an eyebrow. "That right?"

Bucky looked a bit taken aback, smiling in a slightly self deprecating sort of way as he waited for Steve to finish up what he needed to do before they could get out of there. Mickey seemed nice, but he didn't like the way she was looking at him now.

"Steady hand, sure, but I don't know shit about tattooing and my art looks the same now as it did in second grade."

He remembered what Steve said about maybe taking night classes in inking, about how he could use the gun with one hand, but it felt like that might be moving too fast. So he wasn't going to jump into anything just yet.

"Steve has to say nice stuff about me, it's like... the boyfriend code or something."

"My boyfriend is an asshole," Olivia piped up. "Can you talk to him about this Boyfriend Code? Like with your fist? I'll pay you in pizza and beer."

"That's the fee for helping you move, Liv, Jesus," Nate said, pulling off his gloves as Steve got his coat. The deflection had worked because now they were all talking about Liv's boyfriend and Mickey got up to count Steve out for the special favor he did her by coming in.

"Take tomorrow off by I need you Friday. All day. Bring your boyfriend. He managed to upsell two people just by flipping through the stock books," Mickey said and handed Steve a war of cash. "And you, take care of our Stevie. He's precious to us."

Bucky looked pretty pleased to be praised, though he might not be able to make it back on Friday depending on a number of factors, so he didn't give a response to that. He just grinned and led Steve out of the shop, winding his arm around his waist and looking like a smug asshole because of the other hand apparently carelessly in his pocket.

"So-- a whole day off, huh?"

He had to go into the VA in the afternoon, but that still left a few hours of fun that he could enjoy with Steve. No clothes type fun.

"I wonder what you could do with it? I suppose you need to spend most of it designing those incredibly details chat speak tattoos, huh?"

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