fossilised | For Steve

[Bucky felt himself grin, it was almost adorable that Steve was babbling as if he cared what his stupid bare-foot grungy neighbour thought about him. Accepting dinner might be a bit dicey; he knew it was just a polite thank you, he wasn't dumb enough to think it was a date, but it could mean one of two things.

A take out would be great, but dinner out somewhere would probably be a disaster. Still, he didn't want to fuck this fledgling friendship up, so he nodded.]

Sure. Let me go and change, find some boots, and you can come up when you're done unpacking. 4C, right above you.

I won't take too long and keep you up waiting, promise.

[This is going great! He is thinking take-out as well, if only because of how anxious class made Bucky when it was set up to be a relaxing setting as much as possible. Also there's something traditional about breaking in a new apartment with take-out.]

[He snorts and gives Steve an almost wicked sort of smile, figuring he might as well flirt since Steve must be used to it with that sort of Adonis body, but he left it with a simple goodbye before disappearing back up the stairs on silent feet.

Well, shit.

First thing, shower. He hasn't washed his hair in too long, but before long it's damp and smelling slightly of citrus, the rest of him smelling a damn sight better too. He digs through his backpack of extremely limited wardrobe options to pull on his least damaged jeans and t-shirt, hoodie over the top to hide the prosthetic.

There's not much he can do to make the place look lived in. A single air-mattress and a big backpack have never looked more pathetic to him, maybe he can open and close the door quick enough that Rogers won't notice?

After that, it's just pacing back and forth in loosely laced army-issue boots, waiting for the knock at his door.]

[Steve isn't as quick as he planned on being - for one, that last smile Bucky gave him left him staring off into space several times, fingers itching to grab for some paper and graphite and commit it down asap. He's got self control, though, and managed to stop himself from taking that time. If he did that, next thing he'd know it'd be two in the morning. Also after putting everything away he's worked up quite a sweat himself so he takes a very quick ten minute shower and pulls on some clean clothes.

A slightly too tight tee-shirt (it was the only thing clean that wasn't formal) and jeans, mostly. Light jacket since it's later in the day. Sneakers. The usual.

Even if he takes more time than usual trying to get his hair to behave.

It's not a date, it's just a walk and a thank you dinner. He did that with Natasha all the time.

Natasha's smile didn't twist him up inside like this, though.]

Don't screw this up, Rogers.

[With that order to his reflection, he locks up and jogs upstairs to 4C, hemming and hawing over whether he should knock loudly or softly or if Bucky would even care or judge the loudness of his knock before he just bites his lip, counts to five and knocks.]

[Bucky has been pacing for what feels like forever. It's stupid, he knows this isn't a date, but he's nervous just for a friend. He has a couple, he supposes he'd count Sam as a friend even if the man is his therapist, and his little sister Becca is always making sure that he comes over for dinner. But he hasn't really got out there to meet anyone new since he got discharged, and making a new friend feels like a big deal.

So sue him if the guy is also a goddamn Greek God in human form.

He's just about decided that Steve has changed his mind and isn't coming up when the knock at the door nearly makes him jump out of his skin. Taking a moment to make sure the prosthetic is concealed and his hair is tied back neatly, he opens the door and tries to fill as much of the doorway as possible to keep Steve from seeing what a sparse apartment he has.]

You ready to do some walking?

[He pulls the door shut behind him fairly quickly, until he's out in the hall with Steve.]

Okay, so hit me, where exactly is your office building? I can help you with a route, but only if I know the end goal.

[Oh, goddamn.

Goddamn.

Bucky looked good even disheveled and unshowered. Now, well. Goddamn. Steve is a little too distracted by looking at him to even try to get a look at his apartment. He kind of forgets there's the rest of the hallway or building until the sound of the door closing snaps him out of it.

He coughs again to try and hide that, walking along the hallway with Bucky. Quick, Steve, start talking.]

It's about four blocks east of where the art classes were held and ... two and a half blocks north, I think? That's the clearest path I take when I walk anyway, I'm not sure if there are any shortcuts. It's the squat building that was built when the renaissance revival architecture was really popular, especially for government buildings. I think it was once a sage green color but now it's that vague mixture of pink and brown waste paint used to cover up graffiti.

[Bucky knew Brooklyn fairly well from his time as a kid, though he had moved away as a teenager and only come back after being discharged. Luckily for this particular situation, even if it wasn't the healthiest of coping mechanisms, Bucky had spent a lot of time after being discharged wandering his neighbourhood and the surrounding areas late at night. Mapping out possible escape routes, weak points, places good for an ambush. It means he knows how to get from point A to point B pretty damn well.]

Oh yeah, I know that building. Jesus, how are you not one of those bitter clerks working in a dump like that?

[Oh, good job, Barnes, just insult the guy's work.

He's light on his feet as he jogs down the stairs, quiet but powerful, all skills he learned overseas and never lost. He grins up at Steve to take the sting out of his word. God, but he thinks he's smiled more at this man than he has at the whole rest of the population, and that tells him that he might be in trouble already.]

On the plus side, there's that amazing independent bakery just around the corner that does the best cream cheese bagel ever.

[Steve laughs at the first question, and it doesn't sound forced or uncomfortable. Safe to say he took it as a joke, or at least didn't take offense. He's trying not to get distracted by the way Bucky moves, but there's so much natural confidence to it in spite of all he's been through -

Steve has got to get Bucky to be his go-to model.]

Seriously? I've never noticed it before, you gotta point it out when we get near it. Don't suppose it's still open at this hour?

Yeah, it's open to pretty late, and we should be able to get there in like twenty minutes.

[He's already mentally mapping the way to go. If he takes a short-cut through the mall, and then ducks down into the warren of alleys, he can get them there in that amount of time.

Confident, he walks off, sure that Steve is going to follow him.]

So what kind of dinner am I being paid in? It might change how good the route in. You know, like... pizza is a half hour route, Thai food gets you twenty five minutes.

[A beep comes in from Steve's phone as Bucky's talking, a text:

FROM: Nat
TO: Steve

How'd unpacking go? Clint made his dog barf pizza so we're escaping the smell for a few hours, want to grab some dinner?]

[Steve is a little surprised when his phone goes off - belatedly he knows he should have expected Nat to at least want to check in on him, but he waits until Bucky is done talking to even take it out of his pocket.]

Haha - sliding scale rates? Alright, anything better than Thai available?

[Normally Steve is too self conscious and overthinking to get too obviously flirtatious with his tone, but when he's distracted by reading and replying to Nat's text, well, it comes out.

FROM: Steve
TO: Nat

Unpacking went ok, but I'm catching dinner with a neighbor who did come to introduce himself. :) One of the students in my art class!

Nevermind that Steve only really mentioned one, the hot vet.]

[Bucky couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. If he didn't know better, he'd think that was suggestive, maybe even that Steve was coming onto him. But he does know better. He's not much of a catch any more, and especially not for someone as kind, funny, intelligent, and sexy as hell as Steve Rogers.]

Pancakes.

[Bucky sounds decisive.]

I don't care that they're a breakfast food, pancakes are the food of the Gods. Feed me pancakes for the rest of my life, and maybe I'll die in a diabetic coma from the sugar, but I'll die a happy man.

[He swings a left into an alleyway between a McDonalds and a Target. Obviously Nat had been waiting for a reply, because the phone dings again barely a minute later.

FROM: Nat
To: Steve

Hot long-haired vet? ;) Make sure you pick up some protection, Steve. And I will be expecting a call tomorrow with all the information.]

[Steve laughs again, friendly and open and glances at Natasha's text and kind of chokes and tries to cover it with a cough.

FROM: Steve
TO: Nat

He's just showing me the neighborhood! He's being neighborly! He is probably straight!

and then he shoves his phone back in his pocket because nope he's not getting into this with Nat while he's having such a good time with his new friend. Not happening, deal with your dog vomit on your own Nat.]

Well direct us to a wafflehouse or someplace else that has pancakes after and I'll get you as many as I can afford. Alternately, we can stop by the store for pancake mix on the way back - I think I have everything else for pancakes and I can make some pretty good ones.

[Bucky tries to figure out who Steve might be texting. It doesn't look like work, not with that sort of slight fond look. When he flushes and choked, even if he covers it, Bucky figures it must be the red-head. The girlfriend. Maybe she sent him a dirty picture or something?

Better not to ask, it's not his business.

But what he does do is come to a sudden and complete stop near the service entrance to the huge Target, giving Steve a shocked and disappointed look.]

Pancake mix? You use mix? Jesus, and I thought you were a good guy, but I guess we all have our demons, that's-- I don't know if I can live in the same building as someone who doesn't even make their own batter. Do you even know how much crap is in those mixes? No. Just no. We're getting ingredients and making them properly.

You know what, Betty Crocker, there's nothing wrong with mix if you're short on time or money. Wonder of the industrial age and all.

[Still, he's laughing, even as he's perfectly content to follow Bucky and learn the ways of making pancakes like he likes them.

It's a thing any friend would do, of course. And knowing how Bucky likes his coffee and pancakes, well. It wouldn't be out of the line to have him over for breakfast regularly, right? Right.]

Eggs, milk, and flour, Steve. It costs less than a mix.

[He's still shaking his head as he sets off again. He keeps a fairly fast pace, heading through little shortcuts and round tight corners to reach the office building. He looks deceptively at his ease, but if Steve is particularly observant then he might notice how Bucky always makes sure to keep a line of sight on rooftops and possible escape routes.

Stopping outside the government office building, he tips an imaginary hat as if to an adoring crowd of fans.]

I know, I'm good, you don't have to say it. But you can think it every time you walk to work and know you got an extra half hour in bed because of me.

[He does notice Bucky's care, and given what Steve knows from Bucky's file, well... it's not all that surprising. Saddening, but not surprising. He doesn't comment.

Besides, he's too busy being deeply impressed when they end up exactly in front of Steve's work and he gives a low whistle and a soft applause.]

I absolutely will. And I will make you as many pancakes as we've got ingredients for.

Do you even know how to make pancakes without a mix, Rogers?

[He shot the question at him with a sardonic sort of half smile. It was nice, this teasing, weirdly comfortable as if he already knew what he could get away with. If Sam or Becca could see him now, making new friends and being out and about, they'd probably throw some sort of parade in Steve's honour.

Not that Bucky wouldn't attend a parade in Steve's honour, he could make a whole float dedicated to the way that ass looks in tight pants.]

So, what made you decide to run Emotional Care-bears and Rainbows, or whatever the hell that group was called? Not what I'd expect from someone who works at Parks and Rec, and can't even make pancakes.

[Steve is pretty good at forming connections with people. He sees a lot of good in the world, and while he would never contribute it to an easygoing nature and natural charisma that's pretty much what it is. Unfortunately, being such a boyscout means that if someone doesn't like him, chances are they want to punch him. Steve doesn't really inspire neutral feelings.

It still feels different with Bucky, though. Like he finally gets the whole 'namaste' thing from yoga - the 'my soul recognizes your soul'.

Like a missing piece in his life all this time was Bucky and now he's here and things feel more complete.]

Okay first off obviously you're going to tell me how to make the pancakes and I am a fast learner and practice makes perfect, so that's two birds with one stone there. As for my volunteer work - ah, the center works closely with the vet center, so. Um, I'm from a career military family on both sides. I couldn't enlist though, so... I don't know. I want to do something? Honestly I think I'm happier doing this, too. Working with people directly. I don't really take orders well, so being denied enlistment was probably a blessing and just saved me from an inevitable court martial.

[Steve was from a military family? He couldn't help but feel a slight itch of discomfort, a cold worm of concern that Steve's friendliness was only because of his desire to do something to help a veteran. If he was that keen to do something, in his words, then maybe this is just some misplaced pity.

Damn it, of course it is.

Stupid, Bucky. Stupid. He should have realised what this was from the beginning, he was usually good about figuring out who was pitying him and shutting it down. Just because he's been blinded by a gorgeous face and a smile that makes him want to grin right back, that's no excuse to get sloppy.]

Yeah, sure.

[He snorts, but it sounds hollow and weird to his own ears. The easy camaraderie has disappeared like smoke in the wind.]

I can see why the army would refuse to take someone like you, they always hate people in good shape with excellent muscles.

[He said the wrong thing again, and Steve is silent for a moment as he tries to mentally backtrack, to figure out what he said and what he can do to make it right again.

Steve always defaults to honesty. Might as well answer Bucky's questions until he can figure it out.]

And asthma, and household exposure to tuberculosis, heart troubles, and a host of other health issues that as long as I stay medicated and in shape aren't much issue. I was also 90 pounds soaking wet on my best day before college - thyroid issue that was undiagnosed until it almost killed me.

[He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should add the next part or not, if it would weird Bucky out or not. Shit, man. Just overshare, why not, right?]

Also the whole attraction to men thing was kind of a big no until very recently, last I heard.

[Wow. Great job there, Barnes. Truly excellent work.

His Ma, God rest her soul, would probably kick him in the pants for being such an insensitive jerk. This was why he had always been taught not to judge what's on the outside, because you never knew what another person had to live with. Asthma was bad enough, but thyroid issues and even heart problems... Jesus, it was even more impressive that he was in the shape that he was in and still going.]

Sorry.

[It was muttered out before the rest of that caught up with him. Gay. Rogers was gay. Why did he have to say that? Before, Bucky had been able to tell himself that the reason he stood no chance and shouldn't go for it was because the guy was straight, now that had just been blasted into smithereens. And, even worse, right as Bucky managed to make himself seem like a total asshole.]

You must think I'm a world class jerk. I shouldn't have said anything.

It's okay.

[Steve's quiet tone is gentle, sincere. Sometimes embarrassing honesty is all he's got. Most of the time, he thinks.]

I know I don't exactly look it. I usually don't talk about it either. I'm not embarrassed or anything, it is what it is, but I know it's one of those things that ... people don't really know what to do with the information, you know? But, ah ... when I stick my foot in my mouth next time, can you tell me what I did wrong instead of freezing me out?

[Oh great, so now he was even being called out for noticing that Steve probably only wanted to spend time with him out of pity. Well, fine. He could do awkward honesty, if that's what Steve wanted.]

You said you just wanted to do something to help veterans, I'm the only one in your art class, suddenly makes sense why you're being so friendly. It's fine, whatever, but I'm nobody's charity case.

[He managed to keep his voice light rather than angry, because Steve was a good guy and he probably thought he was doing a nice thing.]

Come on, I'll show you the way back so you definitely got the route, and then I'll go home. No pancakes required.

[Bucky may be good at holding back his anger from his voice, but Steve isn't. He's never been good at holding back his temper. It's gotta get out somewhere, even if it's just a little spike of wounded pride. So he stops where he's standing to give Bucky a stern look.]

Okay, first off - it's called empathy. You aren't a charity case, I've never pitied anyone in my life. Don't insult me.

[After that he manages to reign it in. Yes, he's angry that apparently that's what Bucky thought his motives were, but... but maybe people have done that with him before. Maybe he has reason to assume that's the motivation. Don't be an asshole, Steve. You know for a fact everyone has their own struggles, their own battles in their day to day life that no one else knows anything about. Deep breath, exhale, back to calm.]

... Just because you're the only vet in this class doesn't mean you're the only one I've ever dealt with. In the class before the one you're in there were three, and on the class on another day of the week it's all vets aside from one other person. Sure it's what prompted me to volunteer at the center but it's not the only thing that motivates every single aspect of my life. Aside from my friends group from college I haven't invited anyone else home to make dinner for them before, veterans or not.

[He's not expecting that.

Steve has been so gentle and kind so far, that this first glimpse of a temper takes him by surprise, but not in a bad way. It's amazing, he's sticking up for himself with no trace of guilt or shame, and he's quite easily putting Bucky back into his place without being a douche about it. Is there anything about this guy that isn't amazing?

His cheeks are on fire from shame by the time Steve stops, but he forces himself to look up and meet Steve's eyes. He's not a coward either, he's not going to run from having done something wrong.]

I'm sorry.

[Again.]

I shouldn't have judged you by some assholes I've met before. [He really has blown any chance of taking this guy out sometime, but maybe he can salvage at least a cordial neighbour sort of thing.] Will you let me start over? I swear I make a better impression than this most of the time.

[He grins, a wry twist of his lips that's still slightly apologetic, as he holds out the only hand that ever moves from his jeans pocket.]

Hi, I'm Bucky Barnes, you might know me as the jerk who can't draw boats and is slightly too into his pancakes, nice to meet you.

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feel free to fudge it/make shit up, I know nothing about Brooklyn/New York geography haha

woohoo, same. my east coast experience is "uh, Boston once like 15 years ago?"

I've never even been to America, so you've got me beat

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