#So I might not have time but that zoo pal plate would be pretty cool

[adhdeimos]

If I have the time to take another ceramics class in that fall I wanna make a ceramic zoo pal plate

[quarra]

Ficlet Challenge Prompt

Yo. Tagging these folks because IT CONTINUES: @kat-atomic @tinybearswithjetpacks , @brooklynbetty, @mariastill    plus @colorcoated01  because they seemed interested. Also, I credit @needmorefiction  with Steve’s opinions on pants.

So, I dug up a little more time, and here is Part Two of the Sloth Prompt. This has even more crack and more pining. Also, a great deal of swearing. Poor, poor Bucky. It’s a little long, so again, it’s under the line.

After all, how bad could it be?

Turns out, pretty fucking bad.

It had only been three days and already Bucky was contemplating a life of intrigue as an internationally wanted fugitive and assassin. Because anything was starting to look good compared to dealing with Steve’s fucking lazy ass.

“Buuuuuuuuuck, the TV remote is really far away!” Steve yelled from the living room.

Bucky paused in picking up yet another pile of wrappers from the hallway to bang his head against the wall. Not too hard, because if he broke through the drywall and had to clean up after that too he really might actually shoot himself.

“What’s your fucking point, Steve?” he yelled back.

“Help!”

Steven Grant Fucking Rogers, folks. Mr. I Don’t Need Help With Anything. Mr. I Can Storm The Base All By Myself. Mr. I Can Making It On My Fucking Own.

But he needed help getting the TV remote. Because it was too far away.

Fuck the bullet to himself, Bucky was going to fucking shoot Steve.

Just as he was pulling a knife and trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t really do any damage to Steve, he’d just scare him a little, Jarvis interrupted.

“Sgt. Barnes, Mr. Wilson is on his way up. He said he’s bringing dinner.”

“Thank god,” Bucky said quietly.

Whatever twisted gnarl of mistrust and frustration he once had with Sam, it had all melted away under the stress of the past few days. The man was a damn saint, and Bucky was ready to fucking kiss him in relief every time he showed up. At this point, Bucky didn’t even care if it was only for Steve’s well being, because the sad remnants of Bucky’s sanity and temper had long since frayed away under the sheer weight of Steve’s laziness.

It didn’t seem that bad at first. So Steve would lie around. Big deal. The guy needed a break. But it turns out, Steve was willing to get up just long enough to make the largest mess possible, and then he’d collapse back into the couch or his bed.

The more charitable, patient side of Bucky thought that this might be Steve fighting off the effects of the spell. He’d muster up enough motivation to get some food, or something to drink, or another blanket. Then the spell would push back with force, and crush his will once again. But it never lasted for more than an hour and then Steve would be up wandering around again, dragging ass all over their floor.

The part of Bucky that had to deal with Steve licking whip cream off of the arm of the couch just because he was too tired to get a plate and didn’t want to get his hands covered in whip cream, that part was ready to fucking murder something.

Not to mention that stumbling across that scene had done Bucky no favors. He had been frozen solid watching Steve lick slowly at the mound of white fluff for a solid five minutes before he realized what the fuck was happening.

Luckily, rage and irritation did wonders for repressing his libido.

“Hey there, Steve,” Sam called from the other room. “How’s it goooOH MY GOD, really Steve? Really?”

Bucky took a deep breath and tried not to grind his teeth. Sam must have just walked in and seen the other thing that was driving Bucky to distraction. He steeled himself, grabbed the bag of trash he’d been collecting, and made his way into the living room.

Sam was standing with his jaw dropped and eyes wide, taking in all of Steve’s gloriously naked form on the couch.

“What?” Steve asked innocently.

Deep breaths, Bucky thought to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to not think about killing Sam for taking a good long look. Then he had to remember not to take a good long look himself.

“I know you two are close friends and all, and maybe things were different back in the 40’s, but dude. Pants. Please put on some pants. Or a blanket.” By this time Sam was studiously looking at the TV, take out bags held in front of him like a ward.

“I keep trying,” Bucky said with a sigh. He walked around the couch and dragged the couch throw blanket back over Steve’s lap, confident that Steve would be too lazy to move it for at least the next fifteen minutes.

“Pants are a tool of the oppressor, Sam.” Steve looked perfectly serious. Anyone else might have been fooled, but Bucky had known Steve since he was a sneaky little bastard with light fingers. He could smell a rat.

“You’re not serious,” Sam said flatly. “Are you? I mean, yeah, clothing kinda is a way people have kept up class divides, but---”

“He’s fucking with you.” Bucky grabbed a wet wipe from the stack of them on the end table and proceeded to attempt to get the latest collection of food debris off of Steve’s mouth.

“Hey! Buck. Bucky! Stop! Buck--- I mean it!” Despite all of the protests, Steve only put up a token resistance.

“Like a fucking child, I swear to god,” Bucky grumbled as he walked off, grabbing the take out bags from Sam and setting up them at the table. “If you could wipe your own damn face you would, so until then I will whether you like it or not.” That last was said at a yell. He pointedly didn’t look at Sam, sure in the knowledge that he was probably laughing at them.

Deep breaths. This isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s the spell.

“Seriously though, Steve. Really?”

“There was this thing on youtube. Looked kinda cool, so I kept watching. And did you know that youtube has an auto play option? You just…click something and then it’ll just keep going! You don’t even have to touch anything!”

This was how Bucky had found Steve at four am last night, watching endless rounds of cat videos. That was still better than the night before, when Steve had gotten up in the middle of the night and started watching a news comedy skit. Apparently that led to five hours of news parodies.

One would think that being afflicted with Sloth meant that Steve would be sleeping the whole night through. Seems that all it really meant was that he slept on and off throughout the day, only to be restless at night. He always waited for Bucky to be asleep before he wandered off.

The first few times he did this, Bucky ignored him. Steve wouldn’t go far, probably couldn’t go far, and Bucky had needed the rest after cleaning endlessly all day. But the five hour news stint had gotten Steve so upset that now when he got up at night, Bucky got up with him. Losing a little sleep was definitely better than seeing Steve get all bent out of shape over injustice, but unable to do anything about it.

Bucky finished setting the table. He made sure to leave out a lot of extra napkins.

“Dinner time, Steve. Get your ass up if you can and get over here so we can eat.”

“Why even bother, dude?” Sam asked. “Is it really worth the effort to get him to the table?”

“YES! You tell him, Sam!” Steve said excitedly from the couch. His momentum carried him just far enough to raise a fist in celebration, but then he sank back down into the cushions.

“Have you seen him fucking eat?! I can at least put a goddamn drop cloth under the table and I am not cleaning up more sauce from the couch cushions. Especially since SOMEONE won’t move off of them for me while I’m cleaning it up! Like a fucking zoo in here, swear to god.” Bucky rubbed his hand over his eyes and debated about seeing if Stark had some super soldier aspirin somewhere.

Both Steve and Sam started chuckling, though Bucky’s glare cowed Sam into silence.

After a moment, Steve’s laughter dropped off too. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence passed and then Steve asked, almost timidly. “Um…Bucky? Could you, uh. Help me to the table?” Bucky could see him grab his hair in frustration and he growled a bit. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just. I’m really fucking tired.”

All the anger and frustration melted away and Bucky dropped his head to stare at the floor. His heart bled a little. None of this was Steve’s fault. He couldn’t help it. Wouldn’t put Bucky through all this if he had a choice.

“Sure, pal. Anything you need.”

He went over and helped Steve up to standing, pulling an arm over his shoulder and tucking in the blanket around his waist. Steve sighed miserably. “I’m sorry, Buck. I hate this. I’m such a miserable piece of---”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted. “None of that. This is just a bit of a rough spell. You’ll be right as rain soon enough. Now come on. Let’s get some dinner.”

Steve hung his head and nodded, and they made their way over to the table. Before they could sit down though, Steve tugged at Bucky’s shirt.

“I. Um. Could you.” He winced and heaved a big sigh.

Understanding dawned on Bucky. “Need to hit the restroom?” Steve nodded. “No problem. Let’s go do that now. But seriously, Rogers, I ain’t holding your dick for you. That’s on you.”

Steve looked up at Bucky, a sly smile on his face. “You sure, Bucky? I’d let you hold my dick any day.”

Bucky almost fucking dropped him on the ground.

What the hell.

“Wait, what?” His whole brain crashed and burned under that statement.

Sam snorted next to them. “Seriously, Steve? That’s how you wanna come out to your best friend? With that line?”

Bucky floundered, jaw agape.

“Eh. Seemed like a lot of work to keep it under wraps, you know? Lot easier just to say something.” Steve shrugged.

There were words Bucky wanted to say. Somewhere. But nothing came out. He couldn’t even fucking breath. What the fuck just happened?

“Dude. Are you actually telling me that you’re too lazy to pine?” Sam looked both appalled and impressed.

Steve just shrugged again, and then looked at Bucky. “Well?” It was said casually, but Bucky could hear the thread of fear in the statement. Could see the anxiety that couldn’t quite twist up Steve’s frame, despite its best efforts.

Bucky panicked.

He shoved Steve at Sam and was down the hall and out of the apartment in seconds. The last thing he heard before the door shut behind him was Steve say, “Well, fuck. He left before I could use the bathroom, too.”

--

To be continued...