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rambleonwaywardson · 5 months ago

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Clegan Olympics AU - Beginnings Part 1

A properly written version of these Paris Olympics headcanons. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, and they meet on the plane to Paris.

Author's note: I didn't really intend to write this, but of course I couldn't help myself. It also got a lot longer than I meant it to so I split it into 2 parts. I probably won't make a real full length fic out of this, but if I have the time I might make it a little disjointed series or something.

---

Falling in love was not on Gale Cleven’s Paris Olympics bingo card. It is, in fact, the absolute furthest thing from his mind, City of Love be damned. It’s his first Olympics, and he’d like to focus on nothing other than his horse, his riding, and trying to bring home a medal for his team. So it’s a shame that that plan is already falling apart.

As a member of the United States equestrian team, Gale really should’ve been on a plane two days ago with the rest of the equestrian athletes, the horses, and the massive support team and quite frankly excessive amount of “just in case” equipment that travels with them. He should be in Paris already, walking Whiskey around the grounds, ensuring she has everything she needs, and settling their training schedule for the days before the Games begin. Instead, he’s anxiously waiting to board a different plane, by himself, in a mad dash to get to France.

The night before they were scheduled to fly, one of Gale’s younger prospects had started showing colic symptoms. His groom called him around 8pm, and Gale had abandoned his frantic last-minute packing to rush right on back to the stables. At first the symptoms ameliorated with some banamine and a lot of walking, but Gale spent the night in an uncomfortable cot, waking periodically to monitor the young gelding, damned if he was going to abandon one of his horses when they were sick no matter how much he trusted his care team. When symptoms worsened again in the wee hours of the morning, the horse had to be transported to a veterinary facility for further testing and observation. Gale spent his morning pacing white, sterile halls with his head in his hands, eyes bloodshot and clothes rumpled.

He’d called Benny, his good friend and Olympic teammate, the moment it was no longer inappropriately early for that kind of thing. “The team will get Whiskey ready to go, but I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the airport,” he told him. Benny swore, but assured Gale that he’d keep an extra eye on his mare for him. Then Gale called Neil Harding, one of their coaches, to update him and begin the process of finding a new flight to Paris.

By early afternoon, the veterinarian told Gale, who was getting jittery from a lack of sleep and too little food, that the gelding would be okay, but needed to be kept for further observation. Gale thanked him profusely, but by then, the Olympic horses and riders were already prepared for take-off, including his own mare. And he is forcing himself to believe that he can trust his grooms to take good care of her.

He hadn’t managed to find a new flight for another two days, and their departure time is so early in the morning that it should be illegal. So now he’s here. Still exhausted and staving off starvation with nothing but an airport muffin as he stands in line to board a plane out of Washington, D.C. All around him are athletes, kitted out with team USA jackets and bags. The flight is filled with red, white, and blue, like a walking “I want you for the U.S. army” poster, except it’s the Olympics instead. Gale blends right in and yet knows he sticks out like a sore thumb. Most of the athletes here are traveling with their teams, or at least with friends or other people competing in their sports. Gale is alone, quiet, just trying to get through the day.

He’s looking forward to being able to doze on the plane, even if he never can fall asleep on these flights no matter how long they are. That’s what he’s thinking about as he walks down the narrow aisle, lugging his team USA duffle behind him, hoping maybe he’ll be the first person in his row to sit down since he has the window seat and he just does not have it in him to go through the awkward shoving-past-a-stranger song and dance. But, of course, he can’t even have that tiny luxury.

The man assigned to the aisle seat is, for lack of a better word, huge. He’s at least as tall as Gale from the looks of it, but unlike Gale, he’s all shoulders and strong thighs, looking almost comical in these economy seats. Gale tosses his duffle into the overhead compartment and clears his throat, prepared to ask the man if he could please stand up so Gale can get to his seat. Except when the guy looks up, Gale forgets every word that was about to come out of his mouth and he ends up spluttering like an idiot.

John Egan. That’s his seatmate on this plane. John Egan, the poster boy of U.S. gymnastics on his way to his second Olympics, with his messy curls and his dazzling eyes and a winning smile that could charm the pants off just about anyone no matter which way they swung.

And that smile is pointed right. At. Gale.

Gale just blinks and tries to smile back, but his mouth won’t listen because his brain is just too tired and apparently being seated next to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life was the last fucking straw. So he just tilts his head awkwardly, motions to the seat assigned to him, and hopes that’ll get the point across.

“Oh, sorry man,” John says, standing up to step into the aisle, except the aisle is packed with people still trying to get to their seats and so he can’t go very far. Instead, Gale has to try to slip between John Egan’s hulking form and the seats in front of them, nearly stepping on the man’s foot as their arms bump awkwardly, before he unceremoniously collapses down into his seat with a grunt.

“Thanks,” he says quietly as John sits back down beside him. And then because he just cannot deal with today any longer, and he knows he’ll make a fool of himself if he so much as tries to say anything to the man on his right, he shoves his earbuds into his ears and squeezes his eyes shut.

John Egan was, to be polite about it, startled when he looked up to see his row-mate standing beside him, asking for access to his seat. To be less polite, John Egan was overwhelmingly shocked and very pleased when he saw how fucking hot the guy was. Once he’s settled back in his seat again, he turns to his left, intending to ask the blonde his name and what sport he’ll be competing in. But said blonde has already shoved some headphones into his ears and is turned away, his head resting lazily against the seat as he stares out the window at the plane’s wing. Disappointed, Bucky still finds himself staring at that messily coiffed blonde hair, the little bit of stubble on the man’s chin, the hint of startling bright blue that Bucky can see in his eyes from his side profile, reflecting the rising sunlight spilling through the window.

Bucky frowns and forces himself to look away. Fine. This guy doesn’t want to talk, Bucky doesn’t have to talk. Sure, they’re both wearing Team USA jackets and perhaps the polite thing to do would be to introduce themselves to one another if nothing else. Seeing as they have a seven hour flight to the Olympic Games, which they will both clearly be competing in. And this man is absolutely gorgeous and Bucky wants to learn every single thing about him. But it’s fine.

It’s fine.

He’ll just watch a movie or something instead.

That idea lasts him all of about two and half hours, at which point he’s watched Top Gun: Maverick in its entirety and does not at all feel like watching another movie. He can’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the blonde beside him and is tapping his fingers incessantly on his arm rest, stuck in a fancy tin can 30,000 feet above ground with nothing to do with all his pent up energy. He’s bound and determined not to let his tendency for spontaneity get the better of him, even if he so badly just wants to wake the man up and try to strike up a conversation. Because this guy seems done with the world and that’s a sure-fire way to make sure he doesn’t like Bucky at all.

But as Bucky tries to get himself to stop obsessively looking over at the guy, who has his eyes shut even though Bucky is 98% sure he isn’t sleeping, he notices something sticking out of the pocket on the seat back in front of him. A boarding pass. Honestly, what person under the age of 40 still uses physical boarding passes instead of just having it on their phone? But Bucky will happily accept this turn of events because he is not beyond craning his neck forward a bit to try to read the name.

‘Cleven.’

Okay, that’s not a super common one. He can work with that.

Sure enough, typing ‘Cleven US Olympics’ into his phone – thank god for on board wifi – yields immediate results. Gale Cleven, 2024 Olympic athlete, equestrian/eventing. There’s countless photos of him: portraits alone, portraits with various horses, and action shots. They’re enough to make Bucky involuntarily smile and glance over at the man once again, comparing this eye-catching real life visual to these equally eye-catching professional photos, but he forces his eyes back to his phone.

This is Gale Cleven’s first Olympics – along with best friends Benny Demarco, also on the eventing team, and Marjorie Spencer, who is on the jumping team – but he’s argued to be one of the best riders on team USA. He’s put in stellar performances at every one of his events in the last couple years and is projected to medal, at the very least. He and his horse, Hundred Proof, lovingly known as Whiskey, have quickly become fan favorites (Bucky has no doubt that this is in part due to how beautiful the man is, and add to that how beautiful his horse is).

Realizing he hardly even knows what eventing is or how it’s different from the other equestrian disciplines at the Olympics, Bucky spends the better part of half an hour reading up on the basics before returning to an article about Gale Cleven, which links to a highlight video of their recent experience at the Olympic trials just weeks ago, where he and Whiskey placed first. Dressage, jumping, and cross country. Bucky finds himself completely fascinated by all of it.

He has vague memories of watching this event during the last Olympics. Vague memories of watching several riders take hard falls during the cross country portion. He wonders about Gale, if he’s ever been hurt doing the sport that he loves. God knows Bucky has.

He doesn’t want to imagine that pretty face in pain. And honestly, what is he doing even thinking about it? The guy hasn’t said two words to him, literally. He could be a dick.

Except, by all accounts online, he’s not. Everyone loves him.

Okay. Bucky can’t take it anymore. They have four hours left on this plane. He needs that man’s attention on him. Needs to see those eyes focused on him. Needs to find out if his voice is as intoxicating as the rest of him.

As if the world is on his side, they hit some turbulence right then, making Gale open his eyes and glance around groggily. Panicking, Bucky attempts to be inconspicuous as he lets his complementary bag of pretzels drop to the ground, landing by Gale’s feet. He watches as Gale notices it, leans over even as he’s getting bumped around by the rough air, and snatches the bag between long, slender fingers.

He peeks up at Bucky with the tiniest hint of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile and holds the pretzels out. Bucky smiles lopsidedly back at him and thanks him.

Gale has every intention of just closing his eyes once again after that. That brief moment of eye contact alone, that goofy grin and those eyes, were enough to make his heart flutter all funny. Not only does he not need that right now, but he can’t think of a single thing to say to this man. Should he say something funny or sarcastic about the pretzels passing from hand to hand, their fingertips brushing just the littlest bit in a way that jolts Gale’s system? Or should he ask John about… well, about what? It feels so unfair that he knows who John is, even if he doesn’t know shit about his sport, but he knows that John probably doesn’t have the slightest idea who he is.

Maybe he should introduce himself? But they’ve been sitting beside each other for at least three hours now and Gale has pointedly ignored him like a fucking asshole and… oh no. Oh no.

John Egan, two time Olympian and the most beautiful man he’s ever set eyes on, is going to think he’s an asshole. All because Gale, exhausted and frustrated and nervous as he is, couldn’t figure out how to speak to an attractive man and chose to just… what? Not acknowledge him for seven hours? Like an idiot.

And then Gale sees John’s phone, which is sitting face up in his lap. John is staring down at it intently, chewing on his thumbnail. It’s a video of cross country. It’s a video of Gale.

“Bold of you to watch a video of someone you’re sitting next to,” Gale muses.

John looks up at him, but he doesn’t look startled or cornered or caught in the act like Gale might’ve expected. He just looks at Gale, completely sincere, and shrugs. “Well, I had to look you up so I could figure out what the hell to say to you.��

Gale arches an eyebrow. He doesn’t know if he’s flattered? Or… something else? “How about ‘hi’?”

John’s smile twists into a smirk. “I tried that didn’t I? You didn’t seem too interested in introductions.”

Gale feels himself blushing and he hates it, but John’s expression doesn’t change. His eyes are still staring right at him. “Sorry. I, uh…” Gale rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s been a really, really long couple days.” He sighs and attempts to hold out a hand to shake, but immediately regrets it in this weird small space where he and John are already shoulder to shoulder. “Well, I’m Gale Cleven.”

John takes his hand anyway. “John Egan. Everyone calls me Bucky, though.”

“I know who you are.”

“You watch gymnastics?”

Gale shakes his head. “Not really. I don’t know much about it. Everyone’s talkin’ about you though. It’s hard not to know your name.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to blush as he lets go of Gale’s hand. Even if it’s true, he never really gets used to it. He’s always liked getting people’s attention, but he never knows how he feels about that attention being nationwide. Much less global. “We’re even then. I don’t know shit about horses.” He motions to his phone. “Hence why I had to look up eventing and all.”

This man sat here for who knows how long, looking up Gale and his sport, just to have something to say to him? Suddenly, Gale doesn’t feel tired for the first time in two days. “What kind of nickname is Bucky? What is this, the forties?”

“What kind of a name is Gale?” Bucky retorts smoothly, and Gale doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“Mine.”

Bucky looks at him like he doesn’t know what to make of him, and Gale tries not to squirm under that gaze. But Bucky just tilts his head, looks Gale up and down. “I suppose it is.” Then, after a pause, “you know, you remind me of a buddy back home where I grew up. Everyone called him Buck.”

“Seriously? Buck and Bucky?”

“You got it, Buck.”

Gale turns away momentarily to look out his window, hiding a smile behind his hand. What even is this guy? “‘Buck’ is something I’d rather my horse not do.”

Bucky can’t help the grin that breaks out over his face, and he doesn’t bother hiding it when Gale turns his head to look at him again. And Bucky was right, after all. Having this man’s attention on him is like basking in the sunlight. And that southern drawl is like a drug. He needs it not to stop.

For all the not-talking they were doing before, now they barely shut up for the rest of the flight. Bucky learns that Gale missed his original flight because of one of his younger horses getting sick, and that he’s barely slept in two days. He learns that Gale has been riding horses since before he could walk. He grew up in Wyoming, surrounded by ranch land, where he learned to ride western as a young child. But his mom always loved English, and soon Gale fell in love with it, too. The way jumping made him feel like he was flying, the way cross country tested his mental and physical limits, and most of all, the beauty and elegance of dressage. Gale couldn’t get enough. Horses were his escape from an unpleasant home life that he won’t elaborate on (and that Gale is shocked at himself for mentioning at all).

He spent as much time as possible at the nearby stables, taking summer and after school jobs doing farm work in exchange for ride time. He trained green horses from the ground up, substituting a can-do attitude and a saintly patience for his ragtag hand-me-down clothes and tack. He left Wyoming first chance he got, moved to the east coast on a need-based college scholarship and settled in Maryland to get better access to the training he knew he needed if he wanted to make a name for himself. He’s had his lovely mare – a stunning 17 hand chestnut Hanoverian – since she was just two years old. She’s 9 now, and Gale brought her along from the beginning.

Bucky is in awe of how soft Gale gets when he talks about her. How much he so clearly loves her, not just as an animal, but as an athlete, a partner, a best friend, a child. Gale shows Bucky a photo of her, but Bucky can’t help but look at Gale instead. Can’t help but wonder how much he’d have to do right to get this perfect human beside him to look at him like that. A ridiculous thought, but this is the happiest Bucky has felt in a while. And it’s all happening while he’s sitting on a plane over the Atlantic.

Gale learns that Bucky has been a gymnast since he was just four years old. His sister somehow convinced him to do it with her, and so he did, even though his child self thought it was a girly sport, because he always wanted to please his big sister. His sister ended up dropping it, as children do, jumping from hobby to hobby like a wildfire. But Bucky kept going. It was the perfect sport to keep his mind and body occupied, to still his incessant fidgeting and make him focus on something productive. He’s always loved the floor exercise the best – the combination of power and strength and elegance. It’s one of his best events, along with rings.

He’d always been good, but when he hit puberty and shot up like a beanstalk, packing on the muscle, he became unstoppable. People told him he’d be too tall to ever make anything of it, but he sought to prove them wrong, finding ways to adapt his height to the events, ways to make his size work to his advantage. He went to college on a full scholarship for gymnastics and ended up with one of the top gyms in the country, located in D.C. He went to the Tokyo Olympics and is now back for more. His sister died suddenly before she ever got to see him become an Olympian, but he feels her there with every tumbling pass, every high bar routine. He does it, in part, for her. Even when he broke his leg in a freak accident two years ago (which he won’t elaborate on), he kept on pushing, came back with a vengeance. Not only because he needs gymnastics, but because he didn’t want to let his sister down.

John and Gale are strangers, and yet they’ve told each other things they only ever say to their closest friends. And neither of them is really even sure why. Why it feels so easy between them. Why it feels so natural, like they were always supposed to end up right here.

But eventually the plane lands. The athletes disembark. And Bucky is devastated to realize that he’s lost Gale in the crowd of red, white, and blue. He’s even more devastated to realize he forgot to get his number.

—

“Who the hell are you lookin’ for?” Curt asks, shaking his head at Bucky, who keeps looking frantically over the crowd with a lost and hopeful expression all over his face. They’re at the baggage claim, dragging their luggage away from the conveyor belt and towards the exit doors.

There’s not much Bucky won’t tell Curt, to be honest, so he doesn’t even hesitate or act the slightest bit shy about it. “The guy I sat next to on the plane.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“Tall, blonde, horseback rider. Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Curt blinks at him. “You talkin’ about Gale Cleven?”

Bucky spins around so fast he whacks Curt in the chest with his duffel. “You know him?”

Curt shrugs. “Sorta. We’ve met a couple times. Went to school together.” WHAT?

“Do you have his number?” Bucky pleads desperately, and Curt just chuckles and shakes his head at him.

“Sorry, man. Don’t know him like that. Why are ya actin’ like he’s your one true love and you’ve gotta run through an airport to make sure he knows before he flies away?”

Bucky freezes, stares somewhere that isn’t at Curt’s face. “I just- He’s-”

Curt breaks out into laughter, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Hell, Bucky, only you would fall in love with a stranger on a fuckin’ plane.”

Hold on. Back up. “I’m not in love-”

“You know what,” Curt interrupts him. “I’m not even surprised. What did I really expect when I made you sit on your own?”

“Oh fuck off,” Bucky snaps halfheartedly, resigned to the fact that Gale has disappeared, maybe never to be seen again.

“I mean, at least it’s Cleven and not your usual.”

“My usual?”

Curt nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, like, at least Gale is a nice guy.” Okay, Bucky supposes Curt might have a point. He’s not exactly known for having good taste in the men he dates and their general… personalities. “And he’s like, adorable.”

Bucky laughs. Adorable. Yeah, that’s one way to describe Gale, he supposes. Good looking, hot, beautiful, perfect. “He looks like a literal fucking angel,” he laments.

“A pretty puppy that you just wanna hug.”

Bucky groans as he sets his bag down by one of the exit doors, where they’re waiting for some of their teammates. “Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t even get his number.”

“Oh, did Bucky fall in love with the pretty boy he was sitting next to?” Croz joins them at the door, dropping his bag at his feet with a heavy thunk.

“Real shocker, right?” Curt jokes.

Croz whistles and shakes his head. “Jesus, the way he was looking at you. I think it’s mutual.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky pouts. He halfheartedly kicks at his duffle. “I didn’t get his number.”

“Bucky,” Curt says, with a look that says you’re fucking ridiculous, as if Bucky doesn’t already know. But then he points out, “We’re at the Olympics. He’s probably stayin’ in the Village, just like us. And you know what events he’s gonna be in.”

Right. Right right right. Yeah, there’s plenty of ways he could possibly track this guy down.

“Yeah, simple,” Croz agrees. “Operation Find Bucky’s Soulmate is a go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shoves Croz, but all three of them are laughing as they grab their bags and head out of the airport.

“You better not let this get in the way of the Games,” Curt warns. He doesn’t think it’ll come to that, but he also knows that Bucky can get… distracted.

But as much as Bucky wants to find Gale again, as determined as he is to do it, the Games are too important to him. He vows to himself that he won’t let anything get in the way of seeking that gold medal, but Hell, he can do both, can’t he?

–

Turns out, for all the time Bucky spent his first night in Paris trying to figure out where Gale might be when – where is he staying? When are his events? His ride times? Where are the Team USA horses stabled? How to get past security at said stables? – it was all pointless. Bright and early the next morning, as he wanders the dining hall and ogles the muffins he knows he probably shouldn’t have too many of, he slams right into someone else.

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, but then he looks at the guy and his breath catches. Gale Cleven is in front of him, rubbing his chest where Bucky just collided with him and spilled coffee all over his bright white polo shirt. “Oh fuck,” Bucky says again, this time with significantly more alarm.

Gale just looks back at him with an amused, endearing sort of smile that Bucky cannot sort out the meaning of. “Bucky.”

Bucky is mortified. He is not a person who is easily mortified, but if a black hole opened up at his feet right now, he would kindly accept that fate over whatever embarrassment this is. “Buck.”

“Still with the nickname I see.”

Bucky isn’t focused on that right now, though. “I’m so sorry. God, I can’t believe I did that. Maybe we can get it out?” He reaches awkwardly towards Gale, rubbing his fingertips over the coffee stain before he realizes that he’s just casually feeling Gale’s rock-solid chest in the middle of the Olympic Village dining hall and there are, in fact, other athletes swarming about, having to part around them.

And yet, Gale doesn’t seem to care one bit.

“It’s fine,” he says calmly, like he’s trying to placate a nervous child. Bucky can’t really even care because that voice will be the death of him anyways. “I’ll just change after breakfast,” Gale rationalizes. “It’ll come out in the wash, no problem.”

Bucky nods dumbly before motioning towards the dining area. “Have breakfast with me?”

Gale’s smile shifts to something sweeter, shyer, more genuine and oh Bucky wants to make that happen as much as he can. “I’d like that. Let me just finish getting some food.”

Bucky nods because, right, of course, Gale doesn’t even have anything on his tray yet. So he says he’ll save them a seat and they part ways and Bucky tries not to wonder if Gale only said that to get him to go away and won’t actually come back. After all, what would a beautiful, charming, level-headed guy like Gale see in a cocky, awkward mess of a guy like Bucky?

But a few minutes later, he looks up to a shadow standing beside the table, and there he is. He didn’t leave. Gale doesn’t quite smile with his mouth, but it’s in his eyes, the softness of his face. He sets a cup of coffee down in front of Bucky before taking a seat across the table from him.

“You got me new coffee?”

“It was the least I could do, since yours ended up all over my shirt.” Gale motions to the stain right over his left pec.

“I ran into you,” Bucky insists. But he takes the coffee gratefully and sips it with far too much need.

“I think we kinda ran into each other.” Bucky is about to say something sarcastic or funny in response, but Gale is already moving on. He really just doesn’t care that Bucky ruined his shirt. Okay then. “Thank God I found you,” he’s saying, and he actually looks relieved. “I got to the baggage claim and realized I couldn’t see you anywhere, and I forgot to ask for your number cause I’m an idiot, Jesus-“

A laugh bubbles out of Bucky’s mouth, because he genuinely can’t believe that the disappointing feeling of devastating loss he’d experienced in the airport was mutual. “It’s okay. I did the same thing.” He shrugs. “But it looks like fate just keeps bringing us together.”

“Looks like it, huh?”

And they fall into the same easy conversation that they did on the plane. Gale tells Bucky that Whiskey is doing well. She arrived safely and is already strutting around the stables like she owns the place. The equestrian facilities are located nearly an hour from the village, so being there will take up a lot of his time, but his friends, Benny and Marge, keep insisting that he needs to socialize, whatever that means.

Bucky tells Gale about Curt, and Gale is surprisingly excited to hear about his old classmate, saying he’d love to see him again. Bucky promises him that he’ll make it happen. Tells him about all the wild shit they get up to when they travel, about how close they’ve become over the years.

Gale promises him that he’ll get to meet Whiskey sometime, if he wants (yes, John very much wants).

They tell each other about their sports, about the events and the rules and everything they love (and hate) about them. Bucky tells Gale about some of the skills he has planned, which includes a skill or two that he himself actually introduced to the world stage, meaning they’re named after him in the FIG Code of Points.

“Wait,” Gale stops him mid-sentence. “You have your own skills named after you? There’s a skill in the code book called ‘the Egan’?”

Bucky nods, like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah,” he says. “Three.” Gale is stunned.

Gale tells Bucky about flying all over the world with his horse and how much effort goes into just shipping her from place to place. He tells him about how much this Olympics means to him. How he’s, you know, a normal amount of freaking the fuck out about riding at Château de Versailles. He’s done his share of major international events, but shit, nothing has ever come close to riding in an arena set between beyond-perfectly manicured gardens in front of a palace.

Both of them lose track of time, and neither of them can really remember what they’re supposed to be doing this morning instead of sitting here, lost in conversation with someone they just met but might as well have known their entire lives. Lost in pretty eyes and perfect smiles and contagious laughs, leaning across the table towards each other and giggling like schoolgirls, so close Gale can smell the coffee on Bucky’s breath.

Bucky keeps spinning around in circles in his head, trying to decide if he’s imagining the way Gale is staring at him. Trying to decide what those facial expressions mean. He decides right there and then that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Gale is gay or straight or if they can be friends or if they could ever be more; John just wants this man in his life. He wants to make him smile and hear the sound of his laugh and just be in his presence. He wants to know who Gale Cleven is, and he wants Gale to know who he is. In a way that he’s never cared about with anyone else.

He’s been trying to play this cool. Sure, he may be failing miserably, but he at least tries not to push too much too fast. Tries to just enjoy talking to this wonderful person. Because he’s actually crazy for feeling so much so quickly. But then again, that’s kind of how he’s always been: a little crazy.

What he doesn’t know is that Gale is thinking the same thing. He’s drawn to Bucky like a moth to a flame, and he’s terrified because he knows he might get burned. Because what would such a good-looking, self-assured, and captivating guy like John Egan want in a reserved, awkward mess of a guy like Gale? It feels actually insane, the way he wants John’s attention. It’s so out of character for him and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. Doesn’t want it to stop.

So he finds himself saying, “I have some free time this afternoon. Do you wanna check out the village or something?”

And Bucky says yes with such enthusiasm that Gale thinks maybe he feels it, too.

—

Part 2

#clegan #clegan olympics au #olympics au #clegan fic #masters of the air #mota #gale cleven #john egan #bucky egan #buck cleven #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #buck x bucky #bucky x buck #mota fic

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