#little spoon steve>>>

[jamesbukkakebarnes]

let's ignore the fact that i've been super inactive and focus on them 💕 i just want yall to know i think abt stevebucky (and alpine) constantly 😭

anyway it's my birthday, and ive been doing a lot of Thinking and idk, i think im gonna start posting art w/o worrying abt if it's good or not. so here's steve and bucky and little alpine sleeping in (i love that for them) 🩷

[sappen]

They should kiss

[thatgirlwithasquid]

As we were discussing the delights of Spoons earlier, what do you think Billy’s order would be

I’m personally a cheesy chips and Cherry Pepsi man but I can imagine him wanting a full English with a Kopperberg

Oooo good question. I'm a southern fried chicken strips basket kinda girl myself (usually also with a cherry pepsi, or a vodka lemonade if im drinking)...

I may have to agree on the full english. I can see Billy eating that. I also feel like he'd go to town on a curry. Catch him tearing up a jalfrezi at the end of a long day at work with a pint, Steve sat across from him sipping at a pink gin because he cant decide what he's in the mood for food wise. Billy grumbles about him being picky and taking too long but he curls his ankle around Steve's when he tries to kick at him underneath the table <3

[loveluststerek]

I just love the idea of Steve being held when he sleeps. I know he’s a protector, and would probs like to be between the person he loves and the door but just. Touch deprived.

I have a headcanon that like all of Eddie’s friends were probs queer or at least ok with it, so they probs all slept in close proximity, so he’d be all for cuddling the shit out of Steve. He loves that he gets to be the big spoon and cover Steve, have his back while he sleeps. I love it and I need more of it pls thank you

[harrywavycurly]

So I’m currently laying in bed thinking about what it would be like if Eddie and Steve accidentally adopted a vampire little girl and how on one hand they’d do everything they could to make her seem as normal as possible while on the other hand making sure she is well fed and happy.

[lumaxramblings]

alright stoners, here's a tricky question for you:

ronance vers

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.

(Steve would do the same for her).

Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.

64 and going down. Not a good sign.

Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”

Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”

His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.

“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”

Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.

“This tastes like shit, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”

The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.

Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.

57 after he pricked. Thank god.

It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.

He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.

“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.

“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”

Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.

Chrissy would love her.

He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“How’s my blizzard?”

He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.

The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.

“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”

[angrythingstarlight]

Ok hear me out… Bee learning Bucky’s name and calling him Bucky instead of papa to sound like the grown ups. Bucky hates it. But luckily it doesn’t last long.

Bee tried it one day.

It starts with a little g'morning Bucky. Everyone thinks it's cute. Except Bucky. His eyes narrow as he stares down at her trying to process why his baby is calling him that. It only makes her giggle. Bee has never been afraid of him so his infamously lethal glares don't work on her.

In fact she gets more emboldened throughout the day.

You look so pwetty Bucky.

Bucky you wanna watch Moana with me?

You wants me and Mr. Tato to helps you with business Bucky?

Bucky me and Mr. Tato want dino nuggies for lunch. You wants some Bucky?

You gots three more seconds of work Bucky.

By the afternoon, Bucky is at his wit's end. He's her Papa damn it. This is worse than when you call him James. He blames Steve for this. Bucky can't prove that this was his doing but Bucky knows he's behind it.

Bucky decides the best way to handle this is to treat the situation like he does one of his negotiations. Take control and show how ruthless he can be if his terms aren't met.

Bucky leaves the contracts for the casino behind and strides into Bee's office across the hallway. Knocking on her open door, Bucky waits until she stops coloring and then he says her name.

Bee's face drops, disconcertion drawing her brows in. Bucky deliberately repeats her name asking if she's ready for lunch. Her head tilts back, her hand flying to the front of her teddy bear onesie. "Oh no, no Papa I not—no I Bumblebee."

A grin, relieved yet smug, spreads across his face. She doesn't realize that she reverted back to Papa but he does. That sounds better and it makes him happier than he'll ever admit. "Are you my sweet Bee?"

Bee nods emphatically. "Yes and I weady for dino nuggies."

She takes his hand and they start down the hallway. They're almost at the kitchen when Bee peers up at him. "Bucky can we has apple juice? My tummy needs it."

Bucky bites back a sigh. Normally he appreciates her stubborn nature but not today. Not with this. A beat passes as they cross the doorway and step into the sun-streaked kitchen.

Bucky stoops down and as he picks her up, he says, "of course you can." He casually tacks on her name, ignoring her offended gasp.

Lunch continues like this. Her calling him Bucky, him tossing her full name back at her. By the time her small, colorful plate is nearly clean, Bee is waving her macaroni and cheese covered spoon at the pakhan. "No I Bumblebee."

"And I'm your Papa." He retorts, stealing a berry off her plate.

You find them staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills. It's impossible to figure out who will concede first, you thought Bucky would cave the way he usually does but he has a determined glint in his eyes. It matches Bee's.

You'll never stop being entertained by these two.

Then Bee decides she's had enough of this game, she wants to be his Bumblebee again. She lifts her chubby arms, gazing up at him. Her voice soft and sweet. "Papa I sleepy."

Bucky smiles, reaching over to pick her up, gently patting her back. "Alright, sweet Bee. Why don't you take a nap and when you're done you can help me with some work. I need your help picking which one of Uncle Steve's restaurants I'm going to take over."

"Oh the one with the 'sgana." She yawns, snuggling closer, her eyelids drooping. "It's my favorites."

"Now it's yours." The lasagna and the restaurant.

Bucky's going to have her make Steve a thank you card and he's going to personally deliver it tomorrow.

Your mouth falls open, a chuckle spills out. "Bucky you can't just take—"

Bucky slows down, stopping in front of you. He peers down at you, blatantly stating your name. His deep voice rolls over you as his words land at your feet like a brick. "Are you sure you want to take his side?"

Oh.

Oh, you don't like that. It sounds wrong and unnatural on his tongue. "Lasagna is my favorite too."

Bucky wraps his arm around you, his lips brushing over yours. "I know it is, Malyshka."

[hairmetal666]

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."

[orellazalonia]

Heart First, Sanity Later

Summary: You, a dangerously chaotic genius with the common sense of a soggy spoon, somehow captures the heart of Bucky Barnes. Despite the constant emotional whiplash, raccoon-related injuries, and deeply cursed inventions, Bucky finds himself falling hard… somewhere between a Capri Sun intervention robot and a vent-related rescue. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: This was based on this post I came across from @ghouljams earlier. Please let me know if you want me to remove any of the information you listed here.

Word Count: 3.4k+

A/N: I had a blast writing this and I am begging on my hands and knees that other people like this as well so I can write more of unhinged reader. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Sequel | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Bucky didn’t mean to get attached. In fact, he very specifically meant not to get attached to you.

You, with your wide smile and increasingly concerning decision-making skills. You, who walked into a briefing ten minutes late with a Slurpee, claimed you got “time-displaced,” and then flawlessly identified the year, model, and VIN of a car from a blurry photo Tony handed out. “That’s a 1972 Chevelle SS,” You’d said casually. “But the rims are from a later model. 1976, I think.”

He stared at you. Everyone did.

You slurped. “What?”

Later, Bucky watched you put your phone in the fridge, forget about it, then ask him if he’d “seen a text from 7-Eleven recently.” You didn’t even seem high. That was the worst part. You just… existed like that. All the time.

A living contradiction. A walking cosmic joke. The human version of a browser with 72 tabs open, one playing music, none labeled, and all of them about wildly different topics ranging from “theoretical wormhole stability” to “can ducks feel shame.”

And the worst part? You were insanely good at your job.

When it came to the field, you moved like you’d choreographed every punch in advance. Like your brain hit a switch and rerouted all the loose marbles into sheer precision.

But outside of that? Absolute chaos.

One time you asked if the word “colonel” was a typo because you’d only ever read it.

"Why is it spelled like 'colon-el'?” You’d asked Bucky, eating popcorn with a throwing knife for apparently no reason. “Like. You’re telling me we all just agreed to ignore the 'L'?”

He blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“Sounds fake but okay.”

He wanted to strangle you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to wrap you in a blanket and take you to a doctor because no one should eat four bananas and not know why their stomach hurts. (“I thought they were like… nature’s snack bars!” You’d wailed from the floor. “Why does nature lie?”)

Still, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. Something that made Bucky keep finding excuses to be around you. Something that made him bite back a smile when you declared, with utter confidence, that “Citizen Kane” was a man’s full name and you “felt bad for him growing up with that.”

Sam had to leave the room. Steve looked like he aged five years. Bucky? He just leaned back in his chair and muttered, “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

You beamed. “I know, right?”

And that was just the beginning.

-

Bucky knew it the moment you turned to him in the middle of a high-stakes infiltration and whispered:

“Hey. Do you think raccoons ever get embarrassed?”

He froze mid-step, crouched beside you behind a cluster of storage crates, both of you watching a Hydra compound patrol pace along the wall ahead. Guns primed. Comms live. Two minutes to breach.

You blinked at him, eyes wide and totally serious about the question in the entirely inappropriate setting.

“What?” He hissed.

You frowned thoughtfully, like he was the weird one. “They have those little hands, right? Like… what if one drops its snack in front of another raccoon. Is that, like, raccoon shame? Do they feel judged?”

Bucky stared. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It had been a long week after all.

Then you added, “Anyway, two guards approaching. They’ll pass each other in about four seconds. I can take the left. You want the one with the scar?”

You didn’t even wait for an answer. Your body vanished into the shadows, clean and calculated. Three seconds later, both guards were unconscious and being gently rolled into the bushes like unwanted pizza boxes.

Bucky just stood there, breathing. You terrified him but not in the way enemies did. No, that would be too simple. Because he could fight Hydra, take a bullet, disarm a bomb, but you?

You were something else. A walking contradiction.

You once tripped over your own shoelaces while explaining quantum theory, then beat four highly trained operatives unconscious with a clipboard. You called a Glock a “grippy lil’ pew stick” but recited the Geneva Convention word-for-word because you “liked bedtime reading.”

And tonight was no different.

By the time the mission was done, the intel recovered, and the building cleared, Bucky was sore, bruised, and fully convinced that he was doomed. Because somewhere between the absurd commentary, the flawless fighting, and the way you wiped blood from your brow and grinned at him like you weren’t covered in chaos, he felt it.

That thing. The awful, nauseating, heart-clutching feeling.

Affection.

It hit him in the middle of your post-mission debrief, which mostly consisted of you sitting on the quinjet floor, drinking chocolate milk out of a thermos and recounting the entire op like it was a cute story you were telling children.

“And then I was like, Bam! right to the neck, and he just went down like a sack of sad potatoes. Did you see that? You saw that, right, Buck? I did the thing with the kick!”

He didn’t answer. He was looking at you like you’d grown a second head or like how you were the only thing stuck in his head these days. God, you were awful.

You had blood on your elbow and half your gear undone. You were sprawled out on the floor like a sleep-deprived gremlin, and when you looked up at him and smiled, like he was the only person in the world who mattered… He was done. Gone.

“You okay there, Grumpypants?” You asked.

“I think I might hate you,” He muttered, sitting down beside you.

You grinned, bumping his shoulder with yours. “That’s fair. I’m an acquired taste. Like oysters. Or war crimes.”

He barked a laugh before he could stop it. You looked so proud.

“I’m serious,” He said, sobering. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day. You don’t take anything seriously.”

You just stared at him for a moment, and then, quietly, you said, “I take you seriously.”

The jet went quiet.

And Bucky sat very, very still because somehow, that hit harder than any mission ever had.

You weren’t just funny. Or weird. Or brilliant in a way that made his head hurt.

You were kind. Kind in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Like you saw through the Winter Soldier and the scowl and the kill count, and you still chose to sit beside him, sipping chocolate milk and talking about raccoon shame.

And Bucky Barnes, world-weary assassin, trauma-laden super-soldier, turned to you and realized:

He was fucked.

In love with a person who once confidently said “quinoa” was pronounced “kin-oh-ah” and didn’t believe him when he corrected you.

You looked up from your thermos. “You’re doing the staring thing again. Am I bleeding from the ear?”

“No,” Bucky said, voice low. “You’re just…”

“Sexy?” You offered helpfully.

“…Terrifying.”

You winked. “Same difference.”

And Bucky Barnes, against all logic, reason, and survival instinct, knew he was already in too deep.

-

The next mission had gone off without a hitch… at least, for everyone except Bucky.

A few cuts here, a couple of bruises there, but nothing too serious. At least, that’s what he told himself as he sat on the edge of the quinjet, feeling the burn in his shoulder from a bullet graze. But the moment you walked into the medbay with a roll of bandages in your hand, it was like everything inside him twisted in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Okay, Bucky. Time to let the master do her magic,” You said, flashing that grin of yours, the one that always made his heart do weird, involuntary things.

Bucky blinked, trying to shake the disoriented feeling. “You’re the one who got shot today. Why am I the one getting patched up?”

“Because I’m immortal,” You said matter-of-factly. “Also, I’m not bleeding anywhere you can see, so that’s a bonus.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re immortal?”

You sat down beside him, rolling your sleeves up. “No, but I like to pretend I am. You know, like a cooler superhero.”

He winced slightly as you poked at his side. “That’s what I’m dealing with, huh?”

“You love it,” You teased, squeezing out some antiseptic onto a cotton pad.

“You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out of a plane for this,” Bucky muttered, though he couldn’t stop the faint grin from tugging at his lips.

“Not gonna lie, I’d be mad if you did,” You admitted, gently dabbing at his side. “Also, I’d haunt you. I know how to haunt people. I’ve read a lot of books about ghosts.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “Of course you have.”

“Oh, absolutely. I even have a theory about why the Titanic sank, and it’s completely different from the official one. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not what they say.”

Bucky glanced over at you, eyebrow raised. “This I gotta hear.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically as if revealing state secrets. “Okay, so. It wasn’t an iceberg that caused the sinking. It was actually the government trying to erase all evidence of the giant squid they were experimenting on, and they blamed it on the iceberg to cover up the real cause.”

Bucky blinked, unsure whether you were serious or not. “Wait, what?” He asked slowly.

You looked at him deadpan. “You didn’t hear the rumors? They found footage, you know. The squid was huge. It even had tentacles.”

He stared at you, speechless.

"Anyway," You continued, as if you hadn’t just suggested the world’s greatest conspiracy, "What we do know is that my bandage technique is flawless. See this?" You lifted a corner of the bandage to show him a perfect wrap around his side.

Bucky blinked. "Did you just distract me with a giant squid theory while you patched me up?"

“Absolutely.” You beamed at him. “Works every time. Just don’t tell anyone you’re in love with me because I’m not responsible for any heart attacks.”

Bucky froze, his heartbeat suddenly in his throat.

You were still so nonchalant. Still so you, so damn confident and so sure of yourself. It took everything in him not to lean in and kiss you right there.

But then, you looked up at him, and for the briefest moment, that smile of yours softened. “You’re good, Bucky,” You said quietly. “You’ve been through more shit than any of us. But you’re still here. That’s something, you know?”

His chest tightened.

“And you know what?” You continued, your voice so much softer now, like a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to be a soldier all the time. Sometimes, you can just be Bucky.”

He swallowed, looking at you. “And what about you?”

“Oh, me? I’m a mess,” You shrugged, finally looking away, as if it was no big deal. “I’m just here to make the chaos look cute.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, that familiar teasing glint in them. “That’s my secret. You like it.”

Bucky chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to say something, wanted to admit something. That little voice in his head kept screaming at him to just say it already, but he was scared. He was scared of how deep you had burrowed under his skin, of how easy it was to forget everything else when you were around.

Instead, he just leaned forward and cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your lips parted, as if trying to process the sudden shift in the air. For a moment, there was a palpable tension between the two of you, like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to do something.

But then, in your usual way, you broke it, shrugging with a grin. “I know. You’re welcome.”

Bucky’s heart did a weird flip, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to truly relax, just a little. He didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. Not even to himself.

But as you leaned in to finish wrapping his side, your hand brushing his skin lightly, he knew he was already in way too deep.

-

The next incident started with a toaster. Not even a cool toaster. Just a boring, silver Stark-issued kitchen appliance that you were suspiciously proud of. You’d taken it apart and rebuilt it but “better.” No one asked you to. No one gave you permission. You just did it.

“Now it sings the SpongeBob theme when your toast is done,” You explained, beaming as you held up a slice of whole wheat like it was a golden ticket.

Bucky stared at you. “You tampered with government property.”

“Enhanced.” You corrected. “And before you ask, no, I will not apologize. This is the future.”

Then it sang. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” BWEEEEEP - Toast done.

Bucky looked like he was praying for divine intervention. “You’re gonna get us all court-martialed over this.”

Two hours later, you were banned from the kitchen, which didn’t stop you from relocating to the common area with your newest project: building what you claimed was a “mousetrap but for anxiety.”

It was made of pipe cleaners, glow sticks, and what might’ve been a dismantled Roomba.

“I call her Deborah,” You said, gently stroking it. “She senses emotional instability and gives you a juice box.”

As if on cue, it whirred over to Bucky, bumped into his leg, and slowly offered him a Capri Sun.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Then she thinks you’re too far gone. She’s very wise.”

Steve walked in, surveyed the scene, and simply turned around without speaking. He didn’t even ask anymore.

Later that night, Bucky caught you in the hallway attempting to climb into the ceiling with a flashlight between your teeth and a jar of pickles under your arm.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, exhausted.

You paused halfway into a vent, dropping the flashlight briefly. “Depends. Do you believe in ceiling gremlins?”

“No.”

“Then I’m doing taxes.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Please. I’m begging you. Come down.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then slowly slid back out like a raccoon emerging from a trash can. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely and not because I got stuck.”

You had absolutely gotten stuck. And the worst part? He was smitten.

Every time you did something completely absurd, which was always, he found himself watching you a little too long, smiling a little too much, wondering what the hell you were going to do next and why it made his chest ache in a weirdly pleasant way.

Even now, covered in ceiling dust and holding a pickle jar, you looked up at him with that infuriatingly endearing grin.

“You’re in love with me,” You stated confidently.

Bucky blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You popped a pickle in your mouth. “You’ve got that look. Like a grumpy cat who accidentally cuddled someone and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I do not look like-“

“It's okay. You don’t have to say it.” You patted his chest affectionately. “Your body language screams ‘emotionally unavailable man finds chaotic cryptid and feels things.’”

“I am not emotionally unavailable.”

“You have a go bag, Bucky.”

“…That’s standard protocol.”

“Your toothbrush is still in the packaging.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You’d won. Again.

“You’re gonna kiss me one day,” You said as you walked past him, pickle jar under one arm, flashlight in your other hand. “And when you do, I’m gonna be so smug you’ll try to throw yourself off the building.”

Bucky stood there in the hall, alone, heart doing its dumb little thudding thing. He hated you. He adored you. And he was never getting that toothbrush insult out of his head.

-

When the big moment happened, It wasn’t a big mission. It wasn’t even a real mission. It was just supposed to be recon.

And yet somehow, you were sitting on the floor of a dusty, abandoned warehouse with a concussion, holding a broken walkie-talkie like it personally betrayed you.

“Okay, but in my defense,” You slurred slightly, “I didn’t know the raccoon had a knife.”

Bucky stared at you, expression unreadable, as blood dripped slowly from your temple.

“You ran into an unmarked building alone, set off three alarms, fell through a skylight, and got jumped by wildlife.”

You held up a finger. “Armed wildlife.”

He ran a hand down his face.

“I swear to God, you are one poorly timed pun away from getting locked in a broom closet until the end of time.”

You blinked up at him. “Kinky.”

He turned away so fast you could almost hear his brain blue-screen. “Jesus Christ.”

But when he looked back at you: your lip bloodied, eyes dazed, hair full of insulation from where you’d crashed through the ceiling like a chaotic Christmas angel, something in his chest snapped.

You were always like this. Impossible. Endearing. Brilliant in the most horrifying ways. A human Wikipedia article with a death wish and a spark in your eyes that made him forget, just for a second, that the world was awful.

And that spark was flickering. Just a little. And he hated it.

“You can’t keep doing this,” He began, voice tight. “You can’t keep treating your life like it’s expendable.”

You blinked slowly. “That sounds fake. I’m clearly immortal.”

“I’m serious.” He crouched in front of you, fists clenched. “You run into every situation like you’re bulletproof, and you’re not. One day, I’m not gonna be there to drag your dumbass out of a flaming building or disarm a guy who has a bazooka made of forks or- or whatever the hell today was!”

“It was a raccoon with a grudge.”

“That’s not a thing!”

You stared at him in silence for a beat, then said, very softly, “You’re worried about me.”

He froze.

“I’m always worried about you,” He said, almost too quiet to hear. “You think I wake up every day wondering what country I’ll have to fly to because you thought jumping off a roof would ‘probably be fine’ if you landed in a bush?!”

You tilted your head. “It was a very fluffy bush.”

”I love you, you absolute menace!”

Silence. You blinked. Then he blinked. Somewhere in the warehouse, a raccoon chittered menacingly.

“…You love me?” You echoed, like he’d just said he wanted to marry a zucchini.

Bucky looked like he might actually combust. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like I love you. Which I do. But I was gonna do it after, like… dinner. Or when you weren’t bleeding.”

“Is this why you made me tea every time I electrocuted myself?”

“Yes!”

“And why you punched that guy who called me a liability?”

“Also yes!”

“And why you didn’t kill me when I installed motion sensors in the hallway and forgot to tell anyone?”

“I almost killed you.”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then: “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded, still loopy but smiling now. “Okay. I love you too.”

He stared. “You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, why else would I let you eat the last cookie that one time? Or give Deborah full permission to follow you around and scan your emotional damage like a clingy Roomba?”

He laughed, just once, short and stunned.

You leaned forward and poked his chest with one finger. “Also, I have a very deep fondness for emotionally repressed war criminals. It’s kind of my thing.”

Bucky groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet. You’re in love with me.”

“I’m regretting it deeply.”

“No you’re not.” You smiled that crooked, chaotic smile that had ruined his life in the best way.

And despite everything, the dust, the blood, the deeply traumatized raccoon now watching you both from the shadows, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle. Just for a second. As if to say, Yes. You’re chaos incarnate. But you’re mine.

When he pulled back, it was silent for a moment. Both of you looking in each other’s eyes before you whispered, “Did you just kiss me in front of a knife raccoon?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, already regretting all his life choices. “God help me. I did.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

There’s a Beta standing in Eddie’s doorway. She’s slim, choppy ginger hair and red boots poking out from under the cuffs of her denim dungarees – Eddie likes her pretty much immediately.

She’s holding a plate.

She hasn’t managed to speak yet, but from down the hall, Eddie hears a voice hiss, “Robin!”

They both turn to look. The Omega of Eddie’s dreams face and...tummy...are both poking out of the doorway. He looks mortified.

“So sorry,” the Beta starts, “Steve was too embarrassed to come and ask a second time, but he’s basically had his nose pressed to the door for the past half an hour so…” she holds out the plate.

From down the hall, very faintly, the Omega, who Eddie now knows must be called ‘Steve,’ whines, “why are you like this,” and then clicks the door shut.

“I’m Robin, by the way,” and she holds out her non plate hand to shake.

Eddie ends up shaking one hand and taking the plate from the other. Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve must have a partner, but he still has to squish the disappointment of meeting them. “Eddie...just, give me a second. It’s chicken parm.”

Eddie goes and dishes up a portion, it was going to be tomorrows lunch but...he can’t deny the pretty little Omega anything. Maybe he should start cooking extra extras, even if Steve doesn’t come knocking, at least it’s a meal he can have another time.

“This is one of his favorites, no wonder he was so restless about it.”

“Yeah, well, anytime,” and Eddie could add that Robin should be making Steve’s favorites, but he doesn’t because he’s pretty sure Robin is cool and he already knows Steve is sweet and he’s just not that kind of person.

Much.

“I’m sorry, you’ve done what to the pulled pork?”

“Orange and Oregano, trust me Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind.”

“Uh hu, and someone else's by the look of it, you’ve cooked enough for us and that Omega guy twice over.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. “You got all your shit put away then?”

“Pretty much, and leave that alone.”

Dustin huffs but puts the spoon down and replaces the lid on the crock pot, “what are we having with it?”

“Was going to do dirty fries.”

“Oh my god. You’re a saint. A hero. You should be knighted like ye olde dragon-slayers of yore-”

“Yeah yeah, this will not score you any extra loot later.”

“Mayhap a smidgen of exper-” Dustin stops at the sound of knocking, looking to the door. “Is it your Omega?” He whisper hisses at Eddie.

“He’s not mine, he’s got a girlfriend,” Eddie whisper hisses back.

Doesn’t stop him pulling his shirt straight and tugging at his jeans and fluffing his hair real quick on the way to the door. All of that is kind of...reflexive, though.

Dustin’s smirk is actually slap worthy, and Eddie will get to that right after he answers the door.

“I am so sorry about this,” Steve is saying before Eddie even has the door fully open, “and I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I thought I could at least contribute.” He’s holding two plates, one empty, one stacked up with cookies, “they’re Reese’s.”

And Eddie’s mouth is watering, not just from the scent of Steve, but because he can see the chunks of partially melted Reese's pieces sticking out of the cookies, “they look incredible, thank you,” Eddie takes both plates, “it’s not actually ready yet, can I drop it by in like, thirty minutes?”

“Oh you are my hero,” Steve beams at him. It’s a happy smile, a smile that comes with the scent of pleased Omega. Happy Omega. Happy Omega with pup. The kind of smile and scent that digs it’s hooks deep into Eddie’s brain and fucking yanks.

“It’s pulled pork, would you rather fries or rice?” Eddie finds himself asking, completely on auto pilot.

“Whatever is easiest. Whatever you were already planning. Thank you so so much Eddie.”

Eddie watches Steve waddle back to his apartment down the hall before he turns, a plate in each hand, and nudges the door closed with his foot.

“Thank you so much Eddie. I made you cookies Eddie,” Dustin simpers from the couch, before making kissey noises.

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Eddie stands in the hallway in his crocs. His apartment is new, so he has a strict no shoes policy; but he has a pair of crocs for in the hall and heading outside real quick. Also, they're comfortable as fuck, so Eddie refuses to be judged.

Especially since they’re black, and Dustin got him all these little button things that pop in the holes. Little swords and shields and D20’s and stuff. So they’re super cool.

Steve opens the door, wincing, one hand resting on the small of his back, but his face blooms back into the beautiful smile at the sight of Eddie. It does something, very briefly, to Eddie. That reaction. And then he viciously reminds himself that the reaction was for Eddie’s food and not at all for Eddie himself.

Steve goes to take the plate but, “it’s hot, I warmed the plate up in the stove, let me put it down somewhere for you?” A trick Eddie learned in his month of working in a kitchen one Christmas when he was a teenager, but it never left him, and he didn't want Steve’s dinner to go cold.

“Oh, gosh, you’re so thoughtful Eddie, come right in.”

Eddie’s heart gives a little flutter at Steve’s praise, and Steve shifts out of the way, letting Eddie into an apartment that’s a mirror of his own. It’s very neat and tidy inside; everything very clearly has a place. Nothing looks brand new, but everything does look well cared for.

Steve directs Eddie to the little two seater dining table, where there’s a place set. It’s so freaking adorable, a place mat with flowers and kittens printed on it, a white folded napkin, cutlery and a glass of juice set out. A single daffodil in a tiny vase.

Eddie puts the plate down carefully, turning to see Steve blushing furiously. “Sorry, I don’t get out much and I wanted to make it nice.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute,” Eddie says, even as he feels himself grow irritated yet again with Robin, Steve’s nose twitches, eyeing Eddie with concern, so he does his best to push it down, “well,” Eddie tries his best to be cheerful, “I really hope you enjoy it. Maybe your girlfriend will take you out tomorrow?” He tries to say that with no hint of spite whatsoever.

Steve blinks at him, “girlfriend?”

“Robin? I thought...aren’t you two..?”

Steve snorts a laugh, actually ugly laughs and snorts like a cute little piggy and has to bring his hand up to his face to try and hide his reaction, “no. No, she’s my best friend. She’s home with her girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Eddie says, processing, “oh. Right sorry, I just, assumed…” he can’t stop his eyes from, briefly, flicking to Steve’s tummy.

“It’s okay,” Steve’s smiling at him, “you can ask.”

“Well...I mean when I thought you were with Robin I just assumed you’d used a donor or…”

“Yep!” Steve pops the ‘P’. “I did do that, and I did go to the appointments with Robin, but I’m single. Going it alone.”

And then Steve does quite possibly the sexiest thing Eddie’s ever seen in his entire life; he bares his throat, “see, no bite.”

Eddie has to clear his throat and shift a little where he's standing, lest his inconvenient biological reaction become overly obvious, “why did you decide to, uhm…”

Steve shrugs, smiling happily, “guess I just never was lucky enough to meet the right Alpha.”

And then Steve’s tummy rumbles very aggressively.

“I’ll let you eat your-”

“Gosh excuse me I’m-”

They speak at the same time, and then both end up laughing.

“I’ll leave you to your dinner,”

“Thanks again Eddie, I really do appreciate it.”

Part three

[estrellami-1]

Fall For You

Prompt from this post | Ao3 link

“Eddie!” Steve calls, walking into the apartment. He finds Eddie at the table and sets his hands down on the surface, wide eyes staring at Eddie. “You’ve got a membership at that gym, right?”

Eddie blinks up at him from his bowl of cereal. “The climbing gym?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie tilts his head side to side. “I’m mooching off Jeff’s membership right now, but I’m about to run out of free passes, so I’m thinking about getting my own. Why?”

“I asked the workers if my boyfriend counted as family for the discount and they said yes.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Do you have a secret boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“No, it would be you.” He sits across from Eddie and spreads his hands out. “If we pretend to be boyfriends, we can get the discount, and then you could climb and I could use the gym.”

“Robin climbs too,” Eddie points out. “You don’t want to pretend to be her boyfriend?”

“Ew,” Steve says, screwing up his face. “No, she’s basically my sister.”

“Right,” Eddie says slowly, “but it’s fake.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’ve seen her try to act, Eds,” he reminds him. “She’s hopeless. Siblings are an easier act for her because that’s closer to true. Please, Eddie? Just one time, we just need to go to the front desk together once, tell them we’re together, and get our discount. We don’t even have to go to the gym together at all, if you don’t want, if you- I don’t know, if there’s someone there you hang out with? You can keep doing that! We just need to go to the front desk together once. Please?”

Eddie sighs, long and drawn-out, dropping his spoon in his now-empty bowl and leaning back. “Damn you and your puppy eyes,” he says by way of answer.

“Yes!” Steve jumps up, pumps his arm in the air, and rounds the table to hug Eddie. “Thank you! You won’t regret this!”

He’s out of the room and down the hall before Eddie can blink, can even move, so he misses Eddie’s second, quieter sigh.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he murmurs, lips quirked up in a sad sort of smile. “But it’s worth it.”

He leaves the for you unsaid, even to himself, and brings his bowl to the kitchen.

“Hey, Chrissy!” Eddie greets the woman at the front desk. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Eddie!” Chrissy says. “Good, busy today.”

“How’re you and Jason?”

She bites her lip. “We are no longer.”

Eddie drops to his knees and raises his hands. “Finally!” He crows, popping back up and leaning over the counter. “I’m so proud of you, Chris, seriously.” He pauses. “Wait, you initiated it, right?”

She giggles and nods. “He didn’t want to accept it at first, but I stood my ground and he finally agreed. He’s coming to pick up his stuff tomorrow.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. “Are you gonna be okay? I can move my schedule around, be there if you want someone as a buffer.”

She blinks big eyes up at him. “Would you? I don’t want to inconvenience you, but Jason-”

Eddie waves her off, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “It’s no inconvenience, seriously. What time’s he coming over?”

“Eleven.”

“Okay, and… put your address in, please?” He hands his phone over, and she quickly types it in. “I’ll be there a bit before eleven, if that works for you, just to make sure I’m there before he is. Oh, and here, add your number. I’ll shoot you a text, that way you’ll have my number, and can call if he gets there before I do.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Eddie, seriously.”

“Nah,” he grins. “I’m a regular asshole, you just wore me down.”

Behind him, Steve snorts.

Eddie whirls around. “See? He agrees with me!”

“No I don’t,” Steve laughs. “Eds, you’re an asshole in the way teddy bears are scary.”

Eddie frowns. “But they’re not scary.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve. “So you don’t agree with me.”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, I remember you!” Chrissy pipes up. “You came in yesterday asking about your boyfriend! Is he here?”

“Uh,” Steve says, blushing. “Yeah. He’s right in front of you.”

Chrissy blinks. “Eddie?”

“Surprise,” he says, raising little jazz hands and sending Chrissy a sheepish grin.

“Okay, I take it back, you are an asshole,” Chrissy says, but she’s grinning. “How dare you not tell me you have a boyfriend!”

“Oh,” Eddie says, “um.”

“I asked him not to,” Steve smoothly cuts in. “I’m sorry. We’ve had some… not great reactions in the past.”

Chrissy huffs, rolls her eyes. “Well I sure hope you don’t get that reaction here! If you do, just come find me. That person may find their account suspended.” She winks at them, and Eddie grins.

“There’s really no need for that, but we appreciate it. For now, think you could get us both set up with a membership?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “Robin!”

“Oh, right!” Eddie turns to Chrissy. “Can his sister join if we have all her info? Or does she need to be here?”

“She needs to be here, but we can always add her later. You two will be paying more until she joins, though.”

Eddie waves a hand. “That’s fine.”

She gets them set up, then hesitates, biting her lip. “I hate to ask,” she addresses Steve, “but are you busy tomorrow? As much as Eddie is willing, and I’m very glad he is, Jason’s stronger than him, and just in case-”

“You don’t need to explain it,” Steve promises her. “We’ll both be there a little before eleven tomorrow.”

Chrissy sags like a marionette with cut strings. “Oh, thank you. Thank you both. Seriously.”

“Not a problem,” Steve assures her.

They move on into the gym, then wave to Chrissy on their way out.

The next day they head to her apartment and arrive just when they said they would. Chrissy greets them both with a hug. “Thank you so much for being here,” she tells them. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“If I ever say no to coffee, you have my permission to shoot me,” Eddie tells her seriously.

Steve snorts. “Ditto. We’d love coffee.”

She gets them each a mug, pulls out the sugar and creamer. Eddie nudges Steve out of the way, fixes his coffee the way he likes it. Steve smiles in thanks, nudges Eddie teasingly when he winks.

Chrissy sighs. “You two are so cute together,” she tells them.

Steve blushes. Eddie pulls a strand of hair over his face. “Thank you,” Steve says.

“How long have you been together?”

“Not very long at all, but we’ve known each other since high school.”

Eddie snickers. “He hated me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t hate you, I thought you were weird, and I was right.”

“He hated me,” Eddie assures Chrissy.

“Christ,” Steve mutters, looking up at the ceiling.

Chrissy giggles. “How’d you become friends?”

“That’s my younger brother’s fault,” Steve tells her. “He’s obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons, and Eddie was the resident Dragon Master-”

“Dungeon Master, Stevie.”

“-yeah, that—in high school. I graduated before him, so he was there in his senior year when my brother, Dustin, was a freshman.”

Eddie snickers. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I was held back,” he tells Chrissy. “Had to take senior year three times. He graduated during my second senior year, and then Dustin came my third go ‘round. He brought a whole pack of rugrats with him.”

“They get into a lot of… situations,” Steve picks up. “And as his brother, I end up involved through no fault of my own. In one of these situations, Eddie got involved. We got to talking and realized, outside of the high school hierarchy lens, we’re not that different.” He smirks. “He’s still weird, though.”

“Hell yeah I am, that’s a badge of honor, sweetheart, I wear that with pride!”

Before Steve can retort, there’s a knock on the door.

Chrissy takes a deep breath, brushes by them, and opens the door. “Jason.”

“Chrissy. Didn’t take you long to change the locks.”

She sets her jaw. “This isn’t your apartment anymore, Jason. You have no right to walk in whenever you want to.”

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to Steve, “he’s a piece of work, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees distractedly. “That- that’s Jason?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen the guy before today, but I assume so.” He looks at Steve, frowns a little. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Steve takes a breath. “I’m fine. Trying to decide if I should be a bitch or not.”

“Always yes,” Eddie says immediately. “Unless you mean to Chrissy? In which case no.”

“No, not to Chrissy. I’ve met Jason before, about four months ago. But he called himself Liam.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie whispers. “Terrible hookup Liam?”

Steve nods. “One and the same.”

Just then, Jason glances over at them. His face pales with recognition, but he quickly schools himself. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, is it?” Steve asks disinterestedly. “Thats funny. I could’ve sworn you called yourself Liam when we hooked up four months ago.” He crosses his arms. “You didn’t mention a girlfriend, either.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Chrissy,” Steve asks, “does Jason have a mole above his right butt cheek?”

“He does,” Chrissy agrees, narrowing her eyes at Jason. “and a birthmark-”

“On the inside of his left thigh?”

“Exactly.” Chrissy crosses her arms.

“Never thought I’d be the other woman,” Steve says. “I don’t appreciate being played. And I especially don’t appreciate you cheating on Chrissy.”

“Nor do I,” Chrissy says, rounding on Jason. “How dare you?”

“I didn’t!”

“Oh, yeah, like I believe that. How long? How many times, Jason? How many times were you home late because work went long, because you had meetings?” She laughs, loud and sardonic. “Oh, and let’s not forget that business trip to Florida. Unless that wasn’t for business at all, was it?” She laughs again, then walks away, shaking her head. “Get your shit and get out of here.”

She walks into the kitchen. Steve and Eddie exchange a glance, then immediately follow her.

“Chris?” Eddie murmurs. “You alright?”

She rolls her eyes at him, reaching for a mug. Her hand is shaking. Steve immediately jumps for the coffee pot, pours her a cup. “Would anybody be alright? After having something like that happen?”

“Probably not,” Eddie admits. “What can we do?”

She sighs, shakes her head. “I don’t think there’s anything to do. I’m just seeing a lot of ice cream in my future.”

Steve snorts. “I’ve been there. Actually, uh.” He shifts uncomfortably. “The last time I was there was about four months ago.”

Chrissy’s smart, so it’s only a second before she connects the dots, and she spins around to stare open-mouthed at him. “Him?”

Steve nods. “I don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna hear it.”

“I absolutely want to hear it,” she tells him. “What happened?”

“Well,” Steve says, “we call him terrible hookup Liam even though I’ve never hooked up with another Liam. Or, I guess, a Liam at all, considering his name is actually Jason.” He frowns. “And why’d he change his name anyways? It’s not like we knew each other four months ago.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Who knows. What happened that made it so terrible?”

Steve snorts. “Well, first I think we need to establish what you’re comfortable with hearing.”

She leans towards him, eyes big and serious. “I’ve seen every inch of that man. There is nothing that you could say that I wouldn’t be comfortable with.”

Steve studies her for a minute, then shrugs. “Okay. So it’s a hookup, right? We’d met at a bar, there weren’t any sparks but there didn’t have to be for a hookup, just mutual attraction, and that was there, at least on the surface. So we go back to his place and he fucks me. And I swear to God I’ve never had a worse fuck. He didn’t hurt me or anything, but he was trying to get himself off and wasn’t really caring about how I was doing, y’know?”

Chrissy snorts. “I know, trust me.”

Steve winces. “Right. He lasted maybe five minutes? Pulled out, got up, and basically went alright, nice meeting you, now leave please. Meanwhile I’m laying there completely unsatisfied. He couldn’t have missed more if he’d tried. And I’m just… dumbfounded, basically. I’ve never met anyone like that before. So I leave and head back home, and Ed’s waiting up for me-”

“I’d nearly forgotten,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s when I realized I loved him.”

“Oh?” Chrissy says, interest piqued.

Eddie nods. “Mhm. He got home and was ranting about how terrible his hookup had been, and all I can think about is how he deserves better, how I would do better, if I could, never let him go, never leave him unsatisfied again-”

Steve’s breath catches. He remembers the night, remembers the fight they’d had, how he wanted to go back out the next night but Eddie-

Eddie had yelled, because he does that; he gets excited and he rants and rambles and throws his arms around and forgets things like personal space.

I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself like this, Eddie had said, too loud for the room, for Steve’s fragile heart.

So don’t, Steve had said, and slammed the door to his room.

They didn’t talk about it again.

But that was just- that was Eddie, just being his friend. Heart on his sleeve, because that’s how it is with the people he trusts.

He shakes the thought away, focuses back on the conversation at hand.

“That’s so sweet,” Chrissy coos, brows drawn up. “You two are so lucky to have each other.”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, smiling at Steve.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Steve smiles back, sad and a little lost. “I think one of us should probably keep an eye on Jason,” he says quietly. “I’d do it, but since he and I know each other-”

Eddie shakes his head. “It could end badly, I know. I’ll go.”

Jason does, in fact, get his shit and get out. Steve and Eddie follow him down, Eddie cites work as a reason they can’t stay even though Steve knows he doesn’t have work for a few more hours.

When they get back to their apartment, Eddie immediately sequesters himself in his room.

At a loss, Steve heads to his room. Shuts the door. Doesn’t mean to fall asleep. Wakes up when the front door shuts, signaling Eddie leaving.

He’s not sure why his chest hurts at that thought.

The next day Eddie’s back to normal, so Steve does his best to act normal too. Chalks it up to thinking about the worst fight they’d had to date.

Life goes back to normal, and soon they’re back to their regular schedule. They go to the gym together as often as not, since their schedules usually align.

There’s one such day Eddie’s climbing, taking a break on a bouldering route and holding on by three points, letting his right arm hang loose, get some blood back into it. He looks around the gym, sees Steve hopping off the treadmill.

He watches as Steve lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, and oh-

Hello, stomach. Hello, happy trail.

Eddie’s left hand flexes. Relaxes. He falls.

“Shit!”

He knows how to fall, lands on his feet and rolls backwards, distributing the force. Lays there for a minute, breathing hard, categorizing.

He’s known he’s liked Steve for a while. That’s an open secret to anyone except Steve, though maybe that’s not so true anymore, based on that day at Chrissy’s.

But Eddie’s never seen him work out before. Never seen his abs as he flexes slightly, the little bit of pouch he gets when he leans over, and that fucking hair-

“Eddie!” Steve calls, dropping to his knees at Eddie’s side. “That was, like, a ten-foot fall, man, are you okay?”

Eddie blinks up at him. A fluorescent angel, backlit by bulbs high in the ceiling. “Fine,” he says, when he can find his words again. “Just a bruised ego.”

Steve tilts concerned brows at him. “Are you sure? Your ankles are fine? You didn’t hit your head?”

Eddie smiles, shakes his head, sits up. “I’m fine, I swear. I’ve fallen from higher. Hell, I’ve jumped from higher.”

“You’re sure?”

Eddie laughs, shakes his head. Stands and offers Steve a hand up. “C’mon, let me show you.” He scans the wall, picks an easy route, white holds. “This is the easiest route we’re gonna find here. I’m gonna teach you how to fall, ready?” He jumps up, grabs a hold. Shows off a little, pulls himself up by his arm to grab another hold higher up, gets his feet on the wall too. Releases his left arm, grins down at Steve, only about three feet below him. “We’re gonna start here to learn, ‘cause it’s pretty hard to fuck up badly enough at three feet to actually injure yourself. You’re gonna let go, land on your feet, and roll back.” He looks at Steve, studies the ground around them. “Move back a foot? Yeah, good. Now watch. Feet, then roll to your back.” He jumps and does as he said, grinning at Steve once he’s on his back again. “See? Just like parkour, you’re distributing the energy you get from jumping. This way you don’t end with a fucked ankle or knee.” He rocks himself up to a sitting position, unclips his chalk bag, and offers it to Steve with another grin. “Chalk up, big boy, your turn.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but chalks up anyways. Climbs up to where Eddie was. It takes him longer, and he’s sure he looks more awkward than Eddie had, but it’s easy enough.

He looks down at Eddie, then further still to the ground. It looks far, even though he knows there’s only about three feet of distance. He takes a deep breath and lets go, letting the momentum carry him over onto his back.

He explodes into a breathless laugh, accepting Eddie’s arm up. “See?” Eddie says, then hands over the chalk bag again. “One more time, then you’re going all the way to the top.”

Steve glances up nervously. Eddie smiles, hands him the bag, and shows him the route. “Feet here, hands here to start, yeah? Your legs are stronger than your arms, so push up with your legs instead of pulling with your arms. Make a mental map of the route before you start and stick to it if you can. This bit can be a bit tricky; right hand reaches over here, and left hand takes the hold your right was just on, see?” He drops his left hand to look down at Steve. “Got it so far?”

Steve’s face is the picture of doubt. “I think so.”

Eddie snorts, scrambles to the top. “It’s easier once you’re doing it anyways. Hands-on is easier than watching. Then once you’re up here, you grab onto this last one with both hands, and that means you’ve completed the route. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Now from here, you’ve got two options. You can climb back down the way you came, which is possible but it means you tire yourself out faster.”

“Or?”

Eddie grins, lets go. “You jump!”

He lands on his feet, lets the momentum take him down onto his back with a giggle. “Your turn.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. “Okay.”

“It’s not gonna be as easy as I made it look,” Eddie tells him. “I’ve been doing this for months.” He points to a sign. “This route, with the white holds, is v-zero, see? Then it goes up, v-one, two, three, all the way up to eleven. I’m regularly climbing v-seven, sometimes v-eight. It takes time to get up to that level, and I’ve learned a lot that you can really only learn through doing. Robin’s been going for a while, too, right? And she’s about at v-four, sometimes five if it’s an easier climb.”

“So you’re saying…”

Eddie chuckles. “Don’t beat yourself up if you can’t do it, or if it’s harder for you than I made it look.”

“Cool,” Steve nods. “Probably gonna beat myself up if I can’t do it.”

“Steve!” Eddie laughs, shoving him a little.

Steve laughs back, reaches for the bag, which Eddie hands him. “Here, clip it on around your waist. That way if your hands get sweaty on the climb, you can re-chalk them so you can get a better grip.”

Steve does, glances at the wall, takes a breath, and grabs on.

He gets about halfway up before he begins to slow, and about three-quarters of the way up before he’s moving at practically a snail’s pace, looking between his hands and feet, looking for the next hold. He gets to the place Eddie had warned him about. He moves his right hand over, almost gets a grip, tries again-

And falls.

“Shit!” He yelps. He does his best to fall the way Eddie had shown him, and finds that not only does it work, it doesn’t hurt and it’s actually kind of fun.

He bursts out laughing as soon as he meets Eddie’s worried eyes. Eddie’s brows smooth out, and he chuckles as he offers Steve a hand up. “Harder than you thought, huh?”

“Much,” Steve nods with a grin. “Fun, though. Can I try again?”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie grins. “Go for it! Might want to shake your hands out before you do, get your blood flowing to them again. You were pretty spread out, your hands were above you a lot of the time, and you got less blood to your hands than you should’ve. Try keeping your arms a little closer next time, really rely on your legs to push you up. And when you get up to that spot again-” he points, then sighs. “Fuck it, give me a second.”

He scrambles up, puts his hands and feet on the holds Steve had. “Here’s where you were, right? And here-” he moves his feet to holds a little higher “-is where I was. See how my arms aren’t quite as high above me anymore? It also means this hold is easier to reach.” He grabs the next hold, then decides to show off some and dangle from that hand, grinning at Steve.

Steve laughs, pretends to throw the chalk bag at him. “Showoff!”

“If I can’t now, when can I?” Eddie retorts, dropping back down to the mat and rolling all the way back, over his shoulder to end up kneeling.

Steve snorts, shakes his arms out, chalks up again, and tries one more time.

This time he makes it to the top, and Eddie whoops as soon as he touches the last hold with both hands. “Nice one, Stevie! You’re a natural!”

Steve laughs, glances down at Eddie, and drops, rolling back the way Eddie had taught him. “Okay, your turn. Show me what you can do.” He hands him the chalk bag, and Eddie grins, looking around as he clips it back on.

“Okay, here, these green holds, see? That tag is the same color as v-seven, and I did that climb last time I was here.” He chalks up, scans the route, nods, and starts.

He’s up in a little under two minutes, grinning down at Steve after he taps the final hold.

“Damn,” Steve grins. “Think I could try?”

Eddie snorts, jumps down. “Sure.” He’s stands up and gestures Steve closer to the wall. “See how there’s two tags here? One here, one there? That means you start by holding both of these. Then you get your feet up here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, so Eddie moves back and Steve tries.

He almost immediately falls. “What the fuck,” he laughs, “how do you hold on?”

Eddie grins. “Hard, isn’t it? You’ve gotta get your fingers around best you can and pull together. Like the, uh.” He holds his arms out to the side, then brings them both forward. “Whatever machine this is.”

Steve snickers. “Chest fly. That makes sense, but are your fingers strong enough to grip like that? How do you build up the strength?”

Eddie shrugs. “How do you go from benching one plate to two?”

Steve snorts. “Okay, I get it.” He tries again and is able to hold on longer this time, but ends up on his ass anyways.

“Here,” Eddie says, “let’s try this. Get back up there, and I’ll help hold your hands there, so you can still start the right way.”

Steve gets back up, and Eddie slots in behind him, slides his fingers between Steve’s, and supports him. “There,” he murmurs. “Now you see that hold above you? You’re going to reach with your right hand and grab it. Pull with your left a little when you let go with your right so you stay on the wall.”

Steve turns his head to the side, and only then does Eddie realize how close they are; his nose brushes Steve’s cheek as he nods. “Got it. You won’t let me fall?”

“Never,” Eddie promises in a whisper. “I’ve got you, Stevie.”

Steve takes a breath. Nods. Rocks to his right, then as he moves to his left, Eddie lets go of his hands and brings his own hands to Steve’s hips, stabilizing him. “You’re going to want to keep pulling your arms together,” Eddie tells him. “Keep that tension. Now see that hold up and to your left?”

“Uh-huh. That’s where my left hand goes?”

“Exactly. Swing up and grab it.”

Steve does so, then moves his feet up to a couple of higher holds as well.

“Now this is what we call dyno,” Eddie tells him. “Short for dynamic. See that hold above you?”

“Oh, you mean the y-shaped one? Or the little button-looking one? Or maybe you mean the one that looks like a mushroom.”

Eddie snickers, carefully moves away from Steve, then scrambles up on some holds next to him. “This one.” He taps it twice, then jumps down and quickly gets back in position. “Try and reach it.”

Steve does, and immediately fails. “What the fuck? How do I reach that?”

“That’s the dyno move I was talking about. You keep your feet here, crouch down best you can, and jump. Let me get out of the way, because you’re probably going to fall and I’d rather it not be on me.” He moves off to the side, then nods at Steve. “Go ahead.”

Steve narrows his eyes, crouches down, and jumps up. His hand grazes the hold, but he isn’t able to grab it and ultimately falls onto the mat.

“I call bull,” he laughs. “No way you can do that.”

Eddie laughs. “You just saw me do it!”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. That’s impossible. I didn’t see you jump.”

Eddie grins, rolls his eyes, chalks up real quick before climbing back up to that spot. “This is probably what you saw,” he says, reaching up with his hands while staying crouched, then exploding up and grabbing the hold. “I made it more all of one movement, instead of stopping and then jumping.” He releases his left hand to grin down at Steve.

Steve looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon. “That’s impressive,” he says.

Eddie frowns, jumps down. “Are you okay?”

Steve takes a breath, smoothes his features out. “I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

Steve smiles. “I know. You didn’t. I’m fine, I swear.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, unsure. “Um. Are you ready to go? Done working out?”

“Sure,” Steve agrees, and digs his keys out, offering them to Eddie. “Would you mind driving?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, half joking, “now I know there’s something wrong.”

Steve sighs, ducks his head. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Steve looks up at Eddie from under his lashes with a half-smile. “No. But thanks.”

“You’ll tell me if that changes and I can help?”

Steve snorts. “I swear on your Uncle Wayne.”

“Good,” Eddie tells him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him out. “Coffee on me?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me rephrase. I’m getting coffee.”

Steve snickers. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Stevie.”

They’re back at the gym a few days later when Steve slots his arm around Eddie.

Eddie, who was studying a route, jerks in surprise. “Please play along,” Steve murmurs. “This girl will not leave me alone.”

Eddie laughs like Steve had said something funny, pulls him in, and presses his lips to Steve’s cheek. “I gotcha,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “What’s going on?”

Steve shakes his head. “What were you looking at?”

Eddie points at the wall, traces a line. “See the blue holds? See the three close together, then the one further, kinda up and to the left?”

“Mhm. That’s a… uh, a dyno move?”

“Exactly. The problem is, see the holds below? There’s not a comfortable place for my feet. They’re either too high or too low.”

Steve frowns. “Could you… maybe put your feet on the higher one, then use your hands and kind of… swing up to the higher one?”

“Probably,” Eddie admits. “I think what I need more than anything else is practice on this route.”

Steve hums, moves away. “Show me?”

Eddie does, groaning when he falls again. He pops back up before Steve can worry and spins around to find Steve talking with a girl.

His body language looks extremely uncomfortable, is the first thing Eddie sees. He’s leaning away from her, one foot back like he’s about to walk away, arms crossed. He’s got his customer service smile on, so Eddie bounds over with a, “Stevie!” He grabs onto Steve’s shoulders with a bright smile.

Steve laughs and grins back at him, then just as suddenly his expression falls. “I missed it! Did you do it?”

“Nope!” Eddie snickers. “Think I just need practice. Who’s your friend, baby?”

“Oh, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, meet Eddie, my boyfriend.”

Eddie releases Steve and grins as he extends his hand to shake, which she does with some reluctance. “Nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, you too. Anyways, Steve, I’ve gotta get going, but it was nice to meet you!”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “you too,” but he’s still got his customer service smile on.

Eddie wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders as she walks away. “She the one who was giving you trouble?”

Steve hums affirmatively. “Apparently I don’t look bi. Do I look bi? I do, right?”

“The bi-est,” Eddie agrees. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Steve chuckles, then nudges Eddie over to the wall. “Okay, no interruptions this time, show me?”

Something in Eddie thrills at the fact that Steve is asking, wants to learn more about something Eddie’s passionate about. He grins wide and bounds over, makes his way to the problem area, swings up as he jumps-

And grabs the hold.

“You did it!” Steve yells, just as Eddie is realizing that very fact.

“Holy shit!” He grins down at Steve, gets his other hand and his feet on the holds. “Okay, from here should be easy enough.”

Steve snorts. “None of that is easy, dude.”

Eddie completes the route and jumps down, rolling on his back and grinning up at Steve. “Would’ve been cooler if I could’ve flashed it, though.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Not sure the wall cares about that, but the employees might.”

Eddie snickers and shakes his head. “No, flashing means completing a route the first time you try it. Mind outta the gutter, Stevie. ‘Sides, I can’t show just anyone the goods.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not a slut like I am, I know.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

They both laugh, and Steve slaps Eddie on the back before he walks away, back to the wall to attempt a different climb.

They’re back home the next day when Eddie walks into the kitchen to see Steve staring at a tub of peanut butter. “I hate you.”

Eddie blinks. “You talking to me or the peanut butter?”

Steve pouts up at him. “My forearms are sore, and my hands hurt, and I can’t open the peanut butter because you were the last one to close it.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, and opens the jar for him. “Sorry, man, I never get that sore anymore.”

Steve waves him off, dumps some peanut butter in the blender. “I’m used to being sore, and it’s a good hurt, y’know? Building muscle.” He puts the peanut butter away, grabs the milk from the fridge. Pours some of that, too. “Do you know when Chrissy’s working next? I know she broke up with Jason not too long ago, but she hasn’t met Robin yet.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, they’d be great together! I think… Tuesday? Or- no, shit, that was last week.” He sighs, pulls his phone out. “I’ll text her. Are we gonna try and wingman?”

Steve considers it, pulls the protein powder from the pantry. “For any normal person, I’d say yes. But you know how Robin is. She’s a rambler. If they can’t handle it right out of the gate, they don’t have a chance. It’s best to just let Robin be.”

“You know Chrissy’s gonna be sweet about the rambling.”

“I also know Robin rambles even more when confronted with a cute girl. I know Chrissy is pretty exactly her type. And I know Chrissy’s got a dirty mind but blushes at the slightest thing. I think they’re gonna be perfect for each other.”

Eddie grins back at Steve, tosses him a banana. Pulls his phone out of his pocket and grins at the screen. “She works today, tomorrow, and Friday.”

Steve tilts his head, looks at the ceiling. Eddie grabs the chocolate syrup and drizzles some into the blender, capping it before turning it on.

“Thanks. Thursday work?”

“It should. Rob doesn’t have school that day and she doesn’t work until that night. When do you work that day?”

“I don’t, actually, the new guy’s taking all my shifts.”

Steve chuckles. “I work that morning but I should be back by eleven, if you want to head to the gym then?”

“Sure, I’ll get Buck up with the promise of muffins.”

“Ooh,” Steve says, “blueberry?”

“Always,” Eddie agrees. “Although I might do some chocolate chip this time, too, I know you’ve got a sweet tooth.” He looks significantly at the blender, and Steve laughs.

“You don’t have to make them just for me.”

“Oh, right, cause I’m not going to have a chocolate chip muffin. And Robin definitely won’t.” He shrugs. “Besides, even if it was just for you, it’d be worth it.”

He’s hesitant as he says it, not sure how his heart will be received, but it’s worth it for the bright blush that Steve turns away to hide.

Eddie sighs, grabs a bowl and the Honeycomb. Steve pours his shake into a glass, and together they separately get on with their day.

Thursday dawns with Eddie cursing his promise to Steve. He’s not a morning person, and the muffins take a while to make.

He finally gets them in the oven and collapses onto the couch with a sigh, pulling his phone out and opening his messages with Steve.

Eddie: are you heading by the coffee shop on your way home 👀

Steve: I could be 👀

Eddie: 👀

Steve: I’ll be home 11:15

Eddie: 👍

Steve gets home with their coffees just as Robin’s trudging to the table to eat. If Eddie’s not a morning person, he doesn’t know what Robin is; she’s a zombie until she gets coffee, and even then she needs not to be spoken to until she’s finished her mug.

She stops in her tracks and makes desperate grabby hands at Steve, who chuckles, kisses her temple, and hands her a cup.

He hip-checks Eddie as he hands him his coffee then continues into his room to change out of his work clothes and into gym clothes.

He’s back in a few minutes, chugging the rest of his own coffee and throwing it in the trash on his way to the table, sitting down with a happy sigh. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie chuckles. “No problem, Stevie.”

“You have a plan for the gym?”

“I don’t have a plan for my life, dude. I just climb whatever I want to climb.”

Robin mutters something under her breath about climbing and Steve and trees. Under the table, Steve kicks her.

Eddie decides he doesn’t want to get in the middle of that.

Soon enough they’re on their way to the gym. Steve’s driving, and Robin has permanent passenger privilege, which means Eddie’s relegated to the backseat. He doesn’t mind, he knows how Steve and Robin are, but he lets his mind wander.

Sure, Steve’s hot. That’s a pretty objective fact. But he’s also kind. He can also be kind of a bitch, but really that just adds to his charm. He’s fiercely protective of his friends but will let people walk all over him.

Eddie wants to protect him. He wants to show Steve that he’s worth just as much as anyone else is; more, to Eddie. He wants to take Steve on drives, hold his hand over the console. He wants to get a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater and spend most of the movie eating popcorn and talking shit about the characters, fingers getting tangled when there’s just unpopped kernels left.

He wants them to know each other so well that they don’t need to ask, just do instead; he wants to surprise Steve with a coffee because he knows he’s tired, or a sweet treat because he knows he’s had a bad day.

They get to the gym before he can follow that specific train of thought too far.

“Chrissy!” He yells, grinning at the redhead, who grins back.

“Eddie! And Steve, hi! And- is this your sister?”

“This is Robin,” Steve agrees, pushing her forward.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, eyes wide.

“I like your name,” she says.

“Oh. Um. Thank you? I didn’t pick it.”

Chrissy giggles. “No, but you didn’t change it, either, that’s gotta count for something. You’re here for a membership, right? Have you been here before?”

“Y-yeah, and uh, I have, a few times.”

Chrissy pouts. “And I’m just now meeting you? That’s not fair!” She blushes a little, focuses on the counter when she says, “Maybe we could get to know each other more? Maybe over dinner?”

Robin blinks until Steve nudges her. “Yes!” She bursts out. “Please. I’d, um, I’d like that?”

Chrissy grins at her. “I’m glad. I can’t get your number while I’m on the clock, but maybe I could give you mine? We could text, find a time to meet up?”

“O-okay,” Robin agrees.

Steve nudges Eddie, and they slip away after scanning their tags.

Steve sighs happily. “I knew they’d get along.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “Casanova, I know. You gonna climb or work out today?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Probably just work out, but I’ll definitely come watch you two when I finish.”

“Cool,” Eddie says. “Um. You can come find me if anyone bothers you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees warmly. “Same to you.”

Eddie snorts. “Right, like this is so attractive.” He gestures to himself, and Steve stops in his tracks, brows furrowed.

“You- you’re joking, right?” Eddie gives him a confused look, and Steve’s brows skyrocket. “Dude, you know you’re insanely hot, right?”

“Tell that to all of the boyfriends I’ve had. Oh, wait, I haven’t had any.”

“Okay, and that’s their loss. You’re a great friend and I know you’d be a great boyfriend. Or fuck, if you’re looking for a one night stand. You’re attentive and conscientious and you put others’ needs above your own. And, again, you’re hot. Hell, if I’d ever had any indication you wanted me back, I’d be all over you.”

“You-” Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve winces. “I didn’t really mean to say that here. Can we, like, ignore it? Until we’re home? Or forever?”

“I mean, it takes two to have a conversation, so I don’t really have a choice unless I wanna talk at you, but…” he shakes his head. “What the fuck, dude?”

Steve winces again. “I know, I’m sorry, I swear Robin rubs off on me and I just start rambling. But I can- I mean, it’s been this long and I haven’t, like, acted on it, and I can just… continue to not act on it, y’know? Nothing- nothing has to change.”

“I think everything’s going to change,” Eddie says, then notices the way Steve’s holding himself, small and unsure, and relents. “We can wait till we’re home,” he says softly.

Just then, Robin runs up and flings herself at Steve. “Dingus!” She exclaims. “I have a date!”

Eddie watches Steve pull back behind a wall, plaster a smile on his face. Only the edges peel a little, let Eddie know it’s not real. Robin would notice, too, if she weren’t so excited. “That’s great, Robs!”

“I know! I mean, we don’t actually have a date yet, but we’re going to, unless I completely misread what she meant by get to know me-”

“You didn’t.”

“Okay cool, cool. Ah! I’m so excited!”

Steve grins at her. “That’s seriously great, Robbie. I’m super excited for you. Where are you going?”

“There’s that new coffee shop down by the mall, y’know? She’s never been, and I’ve never been- should I go first? To, like, figure it out? So I don’t look stupid?”

“I mean,” Steve says, “she hasn’t gone either, right? So whatever happens, you’ll learn together.”

“Oh, that’s true. Okay. I won’t go first, then.”

Steve snorts. “Okay. You want the car or were you planning to take the bus?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I don’t drive unless I don’t have a choice. And the bus goes right to the mall anyways, and it’s not that far a walk to the coffee shop.”

“Okay,” Steve shrugs.

“Okay,” Robin says, clapping her hands with a grin and looking between the two of them. “What are we doing first?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Steve tells her. “I’m just working out today.”

Eddie’s heart tugs pitifully. He pushes it away. “I’ve got no idea what I’m gonna climb,” he says, and looks around. “Maybe that route, with the green holds to start?”

Robin frowns at him. “I can do that one.” Eddie shrugs, so she does, too. “Alright. I guess just… yell? When you’re ready to go?”

“Can do,” Steve nods, and takes off for the gym.

Eddie turns to the wall with a quiet sigh as Robin heads off in search of a route to climb.

Eddie tends to throw himself into things, he’s well aware. He knows putting his earbuds in won’t help that fact, but it’ll help distract him, so he does it.

It’s only when there’s a tap on his shoulder that he wakes up and realizes his hands are shaking. “Hey,” Robin says when he takes his earbud out. “Steve’s waiting up front for us.”

He follows her out, slips into the backseat. Can’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes slide over his face in the rearview mirror.

When they get back, Eddie’s barely extricated himself from the backseat by the time Steve’s in the apartment with his door shut.

With a heavy heart, feeling like he’s walking to the gallows, he knocks on Steve’s door. “Steve?” He asks. “Can… can we talk? Please?”

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t come out that night, even for dinner.

Eddie goes to bed with a heavy heart, but doesn’t actually fall asleep until nearly four in the morning. He wakes up to the sound of Steve’s door closing again. He rolls over, buries his face in his pillow, and quietly cries himself to sleep again.

He doesn’t see Steve at all that day. He finally catches him the next morning. It’s earlier than he’d like to be awake, but it’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep without talking to him.

He walks out to the kitchen and stops short at the sight of Steve.

He looks terrible. His eyes are puffy, his hair is flat and greasy, and his shirt is creased and rumpled.

“Steve,” he murmurs, flinching when Steve jumps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry,” Steve says nonsensically, hurrying around the kitchen. He won’t look at Eddie. “Sorry, I- I’m almost done, I’ll get out of your hair-”

“Steve,” he quietly repeats. “Can we talk?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again. “We- we don’t have to, I can- I’ll get over it, nothing has to change. Or- if you’re not comfortable with it, if you want to move- or if you want me to move-”

“I don’t want to move. And I don’t want you to move. Steve, please. Just talk to me.”

Steve shudders out a sigh. “I think I said it all already. What, you want to hear it again?”

“Clearly this time,” Eddie says. “Yes. Please.”

Steve sighs, runs his finger along a crack in the countertop, where two pieces join up. “I like you,” he whispers. “And I have for a while.” He grips his mug tight, shuts his eyes. His shoulders round, his head dips. “And I- I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s fine, I can get over it-”

“Hang on a second, Stevie,” Eddie requests. He takes a small step forward. “Who said I don’t like you back?”

“Well, why would you?” He asks. “I love too fast and too hard. Even Nancy couldn’t keep up and she’s the most intense person I know.”

“There’s a difference between just plain intensity and devotion,” Eddie murmurs. He takes another step forward, leans sideways on the counter. “I know devotion. I’ve known it, I think, since you walked into my life.” Steve sobs once before cutting himself off, curling into himself even more. “Stevie?”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Please don’t.”

“It’s true.”

“It can’t be. I- I don’t get that. I don’t get you. It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Eddie questions. “It’s the truth, Stevie, I liked you the moment I saw you. Then I saw you interact with Robin, and I saw the bitchy persona you pull out sometimes, and I saw you tired and sad and mad and sick and goofy, and I’ve loved every single facet of you that I’ve seen. What haven’t I seen yet, Stevie? Why can’t I like you? How can I prove that I do?”

Steve shakes his head, releases his mug to wrap his arms around himself. “You can’t.”

“Then how can I help you prove it? Stevie,” he murmurs, taking another careful step forward. “Sweetheart. Can I hug you?”

Another choked noise. A small nod.

Eddie steps forward again, his last two strides taking him all the way to Steve. He gently pulls him in, tucks his head on his shoulder, wraps an arm around his waist and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs again, “how could I not love you?”

“No one ever has. Why would you be different?”

“Robin?”

“‘S different.”

“Then maybe I am, too.”

He pulls back, pushes Steve’s hair out of his face with a sad smile on. “Hey. You got anywhere to be for the next little bit?” Steve shakes his head. “Good, then c’mon. You can bring your coffee.” He pulls back entirely, just holding on to Steve’s left hand so he can grab his mug, then leads him to the living room, where he pulls Steve down onto the couch and into his arms again.

“I don’t know if you caught it,” he murmurs, “but when we were at Chrissy’s and she asked how we met, I told her the story of when I knew I fell in love with you. That was all true.”

“I heard it,” Steve admits. “I just couldn’t let myself believe it.”

“All this time,” Eddie breathes. “We could’ve skipped all of this if I’d just told you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘S not your fault. ‘S mine.”

“Now I just refuse to believe that,” Eddie tells him. “First of all, I could’ve told you ages ago. That’s on no one but myself. You couldn’t have known how I was feeling.”

After a pause, Steve lifts his head to ask, “and second of all?”

“Okay, I don’t really have one.” Steve hits him with the bitchiest look, and Eddie collapses into giggles.

Suddenly Steve looks unsure. “You even like me when I’m being a bitch?”

“I love you all of the time,” Eddie tells him. “But you being a bitch is definitely one of the reasons I originally fell for you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Are you gonna tease me if I say I think it’s hot?”

Steve hums, lays his head back down. “Only a little.”

Eddie snorts. “It is. You can hold your own, and you’re so smart, and… I dunno. It’s hot.”

Steve snorts. “So eloquent.”

Eddie chuckles. “Believe me yet?”

“I’m starting to,” Steve promises. “I think… I think I just need time.”

“Take all the time you need, as long as I can hold you like this in the meantime.”

Steve hides his smile in Eddie’s chest. “Deal.”

They’re still there two hours later when Robin stumbles out of her room.

“Morning,” Steve tells her happily. “Eddie and I are dating.”

“I thought you already were,” Chrissy says, appearing in Robin’s doorway.

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 2848

The rest of the day, the compound was quieter than usual. The rest of the team had been in meetings all day for an upcoming mission. But because you just joined, you wouldn’t be going on the mission, so you basically had the place to yourself.

You finally finished unpacking and decorating your room, did your workout in the afternoon, and were starving by dinner time.

Which is how you ended up in the kitchen, determined to make something that didn’t come from a takeout container or protein bar wrapper.

It started off well enough. You’d found ingredients. You were confident.

Then…disaster struck.

You’d just turned your back on the skillet for one second – okay, maybe three – when the oil started smoking. You yelped, grabbing the handle, only to accidentally knock a spoon off the counter. It clattered to the floor. You scrambled to turn the burner off, but in your panic you turned it up instead.

“NOPE – nope, nope, nope!” you muttered, flapping your hands uselessly before lunging for the stove knob again. Some hot oil splattered onto your hand, causing you to yell again.

Then the smoke alarm went off.

You jumped like you’d been electrocuted and grabbed a dish towel, swinging it frantically at the ceiling like that might help. “Crap,” you muttered.

Suddenly, Bucky burst through the kitchen door, eyes wide. “Are you okay?!”

You froze, towel still in mid-air. “Hi.”

He blinked at the smoke, the chaotic kitchen, the pan sizzling on the stove. “...You making dinner or starting a fight with it?”

“Little of both,” you said sheepishly.

Bucky moved quickly, flipping the burner off, grabbing a lid and tossing it over the pan to kill the smoke. “You ever consider not setting off every alarm in the building?”

“Once or twice,” you muttered. “Thanks for the save.”

The alarm finally quieted, leaving only the sizzling pan and your bruised pride.

Right on cue, the others started to walk in, freezing when they caught sight of the kitchen.

There you were, hair a little messy, face flushed, standing next to Bucky, who was now calmly wiping your hands with a paper towel like this was just your nightly routine.

“Is this – are you guys domestic now?” Sam asked, grinning. “What, is this date night? Got a little candlelit disaster dinner going on?”

You groaned. “I was just trying to make dinner!”

“And apparently summon the fire department,” Nat added, walking in and surveying the mess.

Bucky smirked. “Relax. It was just a little smoke.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve said, arms crossed but fighting a smile. “Because the alarm going off two floors up really screams ‘a little.’”

You pointed at Bucky. “He saved it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “So, Bucky saves the dinner, you two eat together, what’s next? Feeding each other? A little spaghetti noodle kiss like Lady and the Tramp?”

“I will throw this pan at you,” you warned.

But they were already laughing as they slowly trickled back out, making jokes all the way down the hall.

Bucky just chuckled and handed you the not-burned parts of what you'd made. “Want to split it?”

You sighed. “I mean, we earned it.”

--

Twenty minutes later, you were both curled up on the couch in the common room, trays in your laps, watching another black-and-white movie he swore was actually good, I promise. The food was salvageable, you were full, and the panic had long worn off.

At some point, your tray ended up on the coffee table, your head drifted to his shoulder, and your eyes fluttered closed.

Bucky didn’t move. He barely breathed. His arm stayed behind you on the couch, just barely touching your back. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth when your breathing evened out.

Then—

click.

His eyes snapped open.

Standing ten feet away, phone in hand, was Sam.

“Don’t-” Bucky started.

But it was too late.

Sam was already smirking down at his screen. “Aaaaand sent to the group chat.”

“Sam,” Bucky hissed, careful not to wake you.

Sam grinned and walked off, calling over his shoulder, “Yo! You guys gotta see this – Sleeping Beauty and the Winter Soldier are snuggling on the couch!”

Within minutes, footsteps echoed down the hallway. Steve walked in first, eyebrows raised. Nat followed, immediately pulling out her own phone. Even Tony appeared from wherever he'd been hiding, muttering something about “tangible proof of human affection.”

You stirred a little, blinking yourself awake. “Huh – what’s going on?”

You sat up slowly, realizing everyone was staring. Phones were pointed. Bucky looked slightly murderous.

“What…?” you said, groggy and confused.

Bucky sighed. “You fell asleep.”

“In his arms,” Sam added gleefully.

You glanced at Bucky, who gave a helpless shrug. Then you looked at the rest of the team and groaned, covering your face.

Sam held up his phone. “Group chat’s already titled ‘Domestic Soldiers.’”

You groaned louder. “I’ve only known him two days!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Two days and already a sleepover, matching loungewear, and joint meals? That’s more commitment than most of my relationships.”

Steve tried (and failed) to look disapproving. “You two have had more bonding time in 48 hours than I’ve had with my therapist.”

You turned to Bucky, face still half-buried in your hands. “They’re never gonna let this go, are they?”

He gave you a small, crooked smile. “Nope.”

You sighed dramatically, then nudged him with your elbow. “Your fault for having such a comfortable shoulder.”

“My shoulder?” he asked. “You’re the one who burns a single pan and turns it into a rom-com moment.”

You looked at him. He looked at you. And then you both just laughed, shaking your heads.

Across the room, Sam held up his phone again. “Smile for the sequel photo!”

Bucky flipped him off. You just waved.

And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you realized…day three was definitely going to be interesting.

When they began to file out of the common room, Bucky just laughed quietly beside you and nudged your shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’ll move on eventually.”

You peeked at him. “You said that yesterday.”

“And I’ll probably say it tomorrow.”

You both smiled – because, even with the teasing, you kind of didn’t mind.

--

Once his black-and-white movie finished, it was still pretty early, so you decided it was your turn to pick a movie. You knew it had to be a Disney movie, so you chose your favorite: Tangled.

The movie had just started and Bucky was already into it, paying very close attention. You snuck a video of his focus locked on the screen, then panning to what was playing, and sent it to the group chat.

The others started responding immediately.

Sam: oh this is GOLD

Sam: someone bring him a frying pan

Nat: I can’t wait for the part where he starts humming “I’ve Got a Dream”

Tony: The Winter Soldier has fallen…for a Disney princess. Iconic.

Steve: Honestly, Tangled is a solid choice.

Sam: Steve don’t enable this

Wanda: I’m making popcorn. Please keep him away from Frozen. That’ll break him.

Clint: If he tears up at the lantern scene I swear—

Sam: I’m SCREEN RECORDING the second he does

Tony: Domestic Soldier: Disney Edition. I’m updating the group chat name again

Group chat name changed to “Once Upon a Winter Soldier”

Bucky: I can see the chat, you know

Sam: AND YET YOU KEEP WATCHING

Nat: Don’t worry, we’ll braid your hair next

You were still laughing when you looked over at Bucky.

He was staring at you, deadpan, though the corners of his mouth were twitching like he was trying very hard not to smile.

“Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

You grinned, eyes bright. “What? It’s so cute.”

You nudged his arm gently with your shoulder, still giggling, and that was it – his expression finally cracked.

The softest smile tugged at his lips as he watched you laugh, eyes crinkling just a little.

He shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” you said, leaning into him, the teasing laced with warmth.

He didn’t answer right away, just kept looking at you with that same quiet smile.

And when he finally said, “Yeah. I kinda do,” you almost didn’t believe you heard it right.

But then his arm slipped back around your shoulders, and neither of you said anything else.

You just leaned into him again and kept watching Tangled, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And honestly? It was starting to feel like it might be.

--

You didn’t even make it halfway through Tangled.

It always happened with comfort movies – something about the warm colors, familiar songs, and soft glow of the screen made your body sink deeper into the cushions and your eyelids grow heavier by the second.

You shifted just enough to rest your head against Bucky’s chest, your fingers curling loosely around the fabric of his shirt. His arm was still around you, and he didn’t move, didn’t say a word when your breathing evened out again.

He just glanced down at you, your face relaxed in sleep, and smiled to himself.

You were out cold. Again.

By the time the credits rolled, you hadn’t stirred once.

Bucky grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, the soft blue light from the screen fading into the dark. Carefully, like it was second nature, he slid one arm under your legs and lifted you off the couch. You barely moved, just nuzzled into his chest with a tiny, content sigh.

He started down the hallway toward your room, walking slow so he wouldn’t jostle you too much.

And of course – because timing was never on his side – Nat’s door opened just as he passed by.

She stopped in her tracks, raised an eyebrow, and took in the sight: Bucky Barnes, carrying you bridal-style, looking like this was just another Tuesday.

Before he could say a word, she smirked, pulled out her phone, and snapped a photo.

“Seriously?” Bucky muttered.

“Group chat’s been quiet for almost an hour,” she said, already typing. “You’re slacking.”

He groaned under his breath as she hit send, but didn’t bother trying to stop her. It was a lost cause at this point.

A second later, the alert buzzed in his pocket.

Bucky just shook his head, holding you a little closer as he nudged your door open with his foot and carried you inside.

He laid you gently on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. You mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, half-lost in a dream, and his heart softened all over again.

He stood there for a second, watching you, then quietly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

When he turned around, Nat was still in the hallway.

“You’re not gonna live this down,” she said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “I figured.”

And despite the teasing and the photos and the group chat chaos…he was still smiling.

--

The next morning, your eyes fluttered open as you yawned, trying to remember coming to bed last night.

That’s when you remembered you made Bucky watch Tangled last night, and you for sure fell asleep. You always fell asleep during movies, especially your favorites.

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand to look at the time, when you saw that the group chat had blown up. And right at the top when you opened it, was a picture from Nat of Bucky holding you in his arms.

You groaned and flopped back onto your bed. The teasing was going to be endless at this point.

You seriously considered not going to the kitchen for breakfast, but you drug yourself out of bed anyway and headed down. Maybe if you just grabbed coffee and left quickly, you could avoid the worst of it.

That plan died the second you stepped into the kitchen.

The moment you crossed the threshold, the entire room turned toward you like they’d been waiting.

“Well, well, well,” Sam said, grinning over his cereal. “Look who finally decided to wake up – Sleeping Beauty herself.”

You gave him a look as you moved toward the coffee pot. “Don’t start.”

Nat didn’t even look up from her mug. “Too late. The chat’s already at meme level.”

Clint was on his phone, and without looking up, added, “There’s a gif now.”

You groaned. “A gif?!”

“Looped it and everything,” Tony said from the counter, scrolling casually. “Really captures the drama of the hallway stroll. Very Nicholas Sparks.”

You poured your coffee and turned toward them, leaning against the counter. “Can’t believe I fell asleep again.”

Bucky appeared behind you then, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “You always fall asleep during movies,” he said with a little smirk.

You elbowed him lightly. “Yeah, well, you could’ve just shaken me awake instead of doing the whole heroic carry thing.”

Nat sipped her coffee. “No, no, we love the heroic carry thing. We were honestly expecting him to just bring you back to his room again for round two.”

You almost dropped your mug. “I have known him for two days!”

Sam held up a finger. “Correction: Two and a half days. That’s practically years in Avengers time.”

“Yeah, by this rate, we’ll be attending the wedding by next week,” Tony added, now fully invested in this alternate timeline.

Bucky just shook his head and sipped his coffee. “You people are exhausting.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “You people?”

He gave you a half-smile. “You’re not exactly helping your case here, sweetheart.”

Your face heated instantly, and the entire room let out a collective ooooohhh.

“Oh, he’s pulling out the pet names now,” Sam said, nearly choking on his cereal. “Day three is getting spicy.”

You looked at Bucky, eyes wide. “Did you just—”

“I said what I said,” he replied coolly, though you could see the pink rising in his ears.

You turned around quickly, trying to hide your smile behind your coffee cup.

This team was going to be the end of you.

And weirdly…you kind of loved it.

As the laughter died down and the teasing started to simmer, one by one the team began to clear out.

“Alright, we’ve got another prep meeting in five,” Steve said, grabbing his plate and rinsing it in the sink. “Let’s try to be on time this time.”

“That was directed at me, wasn’t it?” Sam asked, already walking out the door with his coffee.

“Absolutely,” Steve called after him.

Tony followed next, muttering something about “endless meetings and zero explosions,” and Nat gave you one last smirk before trailing after them, saying, “Don’t fall asleep in the common room again – or do. It’s good content.”

Soon it was just you and Bucky left in the kitchen, the lingering smell of coffee and toast hanging in the air. The space felt quiet now, in a cozy kind of way.

You leaned back against the counter, still holding your half-empty mug. “So…pet names, huh?”

Bucky, who was rinsing his own mug out, gave you a sideways glance. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grinning.

He turned to face you fully, leaning his hip against the counter. “I panicked. Thought maybe if I threw them off with a nickname, they’d stop talking about me carrying you like a rom-com protagonist.”

You laughed softly. “Bold strategy.”

“Did it work?”

“Not even a little.”

He chuckled, eyes flicking down for a second before coming back to meet yours. “Still…it was kinda nice. Having you fall asleep there.”

Your breath caught a little, and you weren’t sure if it was the way he said it, or the way his voice dipped lower at the end.

“I didn’t mean to,” you said quietly, “but…it was nice.”

His lips quirked. “You always fall asleep during movies, huh?”

You nodded. “Especially the ones I love. They feel safe, I guess.”

He studied you for a second, then nodded like he understood more than he let on. “Good movie, by the way. Tangled.”

You raised your brows. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He pushed off the counter, grabbing a granola bar from the shelf and tucking it into his back pocket. “I should head down. Steve gets all twitchy if I’m late.”

You stepped aside to let him pass, but he paused near the doorway and glanced back.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” he said, voice a little softer. “You free later?”

You smiled. “I always fall asleep around five, so…better plan something before that.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Noted.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a flutter in your chest.

You never would’ve thought this is how your first couple days as an Avenger would play out, but you weren’t complaining.

You didn’t know what you and Bucky would do later, after his meetings, but you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that whatever it was, you were looking forward to it.

--

Part 4 | Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101

[hermitsdump]

u know what's better is laying in true form Sukuna's armpit while holding (mimiko's doll vessel... well ig they both kinda are) sukuna plushie. the best

what is it about waking up still holding sukuna plushie tight against my chest

[vunblr]

Foundations (#7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms. (Bucky)

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 6.2.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok. Let’s just pretend for a bit.

Previous Chapter

When Bucky returned to the apartment, Thomas was already waiting expectantly for him to serve dinner. He grabbed two plates, ladling generous portions of the stew she’d made before setting them down on the table.

He took his seat and watched as his little one dug in immediately, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth before pausing mid-chew. His eyes widened slightly. “This is so good, daddy” the kid announced through a mouthful, nodding to himself like he was confirming his own statement.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head as he took his own bite.

Damn.

Yeah. It was good.

She always cooked well, but tonight, for some reason, it tasted different. Maybe because of everything that happened. Maybe because his body was still trying to recover from the fucking elevator.

Later, much later, when Thomas was asleep, when the dishes were washed, and the apartment was silent except for the occasional creak of the old pipes, Bucky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.

The way she had looked at him.

The way she had touched him.

The way she had let him touch her.

Steve had been right. Not imagining things, not making it up to spare his "poor, damaged friend." And that little part of him -the one that still had some self-esteem and hadn’t been completely swallowed by self-loathing and doubt- had been right, too.

But tomorrow, she would come again after picking up Thomas from kindergarten as always, like nothing had happened. Because that’s what they'd have to do. Pretend -or try to pretend- nothing had happened. At least until they had a chance to talk. It wasn’t a simple thing. Fuck, it was the furthest thing from simple.

Because if -if- they talked and decided on something… stable, something real, he couldn’t just throw that bomb at Thomas like it was nothing.

He was a child. His kid. And as his father, his well-being always had to come first.

No matter what Bucky wanted.

----

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, with her heart still thrumming with the ghosts of his fingers on her body.

It happened. She could barely believe it, but it did.

She thought it was just her. That she was the only one foolish enough to catch feelings, to overanalyze his stares, his comments, the subtle brushes of their bodies when sometimes wasn’t necessary. She chalked it up to loneliness, to proximity, to the way her heart had clung onto the first person in a long time who treated her well.

But she hadn’t imagined it. It was there. It had been there all along.

She turned onto her side, curling her fingers into the sheets. Then there was… the other thing. The news. The police station. The way he hadn’t denied a damn thing, telling her he would do it again.

Should she feel guilty?

Maybe.

But she didn’t.

The creep had it coming, and she couldn’t shake the warm, twisted sensation curling in her gut at the knowledge that Bucky had been the one to make sure of it. He hunted him down.

For her.

And that should probably unnerve her. Should probably make her question things, but instead, she felt safe.

Protected.

She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut.

Tomorrow, she would have to walk into that apartment like nothing had changed. Like they hadn’t been tangled up, kissing, grinding, and… like she hadn’t almost let him fuck her against an elevator wall. Because if it weren’t for that alarm, she would have.

But it had changed.

And there was no going back.

----

She arrived at the apartment as usual with Thomas in tow, chatting about something that had happened in kindergarten. When she opened the door Bucky was there, waiting, greeting the child with a small smile and a ruffle of his hair but his eyes, found hers the second she walked in. She set her bag down in the usual spot, and she felt the heat of his gaze linger on her longer than necessary. He looked away a second too late. Then cleared his throat.

Routine. They had a routine.

So she went to the kitchen, and he followed, under the excuse of getting some water. They moved around each other like always, but it wasn’t like always anymore.

She felt it In the brush of his fingers against hers when she handed him a glass. In the way his arm ghosted against her back when they crossed paths, close enough to feel the furnace heat radiating from his body. In the way he stood just a little too close when he reached for the tin of cookies in the cupboard, brushing his chest on her shoulder.

It was suffocating and intoxicating. And then there was the staring.

She caught him at one point while she was stirring the pot, gripping the back of the chair, jaw tense, eyes dark, trailing slowly from the curve of her neck down to where her sweater bunched at her hips.

It made her body prickle with awareness, impossible to focus on anything but the memory of his hands gripping her thighs, his mouth on hers, the way he ground against her until she could barely think.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” Thomas announced suddenly, hopping off his chair.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

The moment the child disappeared around the corner, his eyes flicked to the empty hallway, then to her.

A second later, he moved.

With the grace of a predator, he was on her, curling his fingers around her wrist, and tugging her toward the kitchen with a firm but controlled grip.

She barely had time to gasp before he caged her against the counter, pressing his hands flat on either side of her body, trapping her.

"Bucky-"

He didn’t let her finish.

His lips were on hers, rough, demanding, like he had been holding himself back all day and finally snapped.

She responded immediately, gripping the front of his shirt and yanking him closer as he angled his head, deepening the kiss. She whimpered when his vibranium hand slid up her side, grasping her hip.

“We need to talk about this,” he muttered against her lips.

“Y- yes,” she managed to reply between gasps.

His grip on her and the counter tightened as he ground against her, just once, enough to make her gasp into his mouth.

“Come early tomorrow, when the kiddo is in kindergarten” he rasped, his voice rough, needy.

She could only nod.

Thomas' voice echoed from the hallway.

"Buck-"

He was already stepping away, breathing heavily, with hands clenched into fists at his sides.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, with a strained voice. Then he turned, heading back to the dining table just as Thomas rounded the corner, leaving her against the counter, trying -and failing- to compose herself.

After a couple of minutes, his phone rang. Bucky exhaled sharply, ticking his jaw, and pulled the phone from his pocket. He checked the caller ID and answered.

A pause. His expression hardened further. “Understood. When?”

Another pause. His eyes flicked to her for a split second before landing on the floor. “You can’t expect me- no. Yes, she’s already- I… I’ll be there in an hour.”

The second Bucky hung up, Thomas’s little voice piped up, full of concern. “Do you have to go far?” perceptive.

Bucky sighed, pocketing his phone. “Yeah, buddy. Gotta take care of something urgent.”

“For how long?” he countered.

“Just a few days.” Bucky sighed.

Thomas’s brows knitted together. “Will you be back for the weekend?”

He hesitated just a second too long. “I don’t know yet, kiddo. But I’ll try.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy him. “Do you have to go? Can’t someone else do it?”

Bucky raked a hand through his hair before reaching out to ruffle Thomas’s. “I gotta help, pal. Just like I’d want someone to help me if I needed it.” That seemed to help. A little. “Listen, kid. I need to talk to her for a minute, okay? Just grown-up stuff.”

The child considered that for a moment before nodding. “Okay, Daddy.” He slid off his chair, grabbing a toy from the table before heading toward his room, but not before throwing one last glance over his shoulder as if double-checking that everything really was okay.

She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “How long?” she asked softly.

“Four, maybe five days,” he muttered, slipping the phone into his pocket. His gaze flicked to her, hesitating for a fraction of a second before continuing. “You good with that?”

It was the first time since she had started working there that he was leaving for various days. But they had agreed on this. She knew what she was signing up for.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “We’ll be fine.”

Bucky exhaled, raking a hand through his hair again before stepping closer, voice lower, rougher. “Look, I know we-” He cut himself off, glancing toward the hallway, then pressed his lips into a thin line, as if holding something back.

She swallowed, tightening her fingers around the dish towel.

His gaze flickered down to her hands, then back up to her face. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “This is not how I wanted this to go.”

A small, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “Yeah, well. Life’s funny that way.”

He huffed out a breath, shifting his weight like he was fighting some internal battle. Finally, he settled on: “When I get back, we figure this out.” He stated, walking toward his room.

----

When he emerged in full gear, bag slung over his shoulder, Thomas ran to hug him. "Do you really have to go?" the child’s lower lip wobbled slightly as he asked again, and Bucky sighed, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I do, but listen, this time, you’re staying here instead of going to Uncle Steve’s or the tower.” That seemed to ease some of Thomas' anxiety, and his brows lifted in surprise. "You're gonna stay with her." He nodded toward her, offering his son a small smile.

Thomas blinked, then turned to her, and his worry gave way to excitement. “Really?”

She ruffled his hair. “Yep. Just you and me, kiddo.”

Bucky nodded. “That means you gotta behave and help her out. You’re the man of the house now, alright?”

Thomas’s chest puffed up slightly at that, and Bucky hugged him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I love you, kid.”

“Love you too, Daddy.”

When he straightened his stance, she was already grabbing her jacket. “I’ll walk you down.”

He hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Alright.”

The elevator ride was quiet, thick with everything they hadn’t had the time -or the courage- to say. She glanced at him once and saw his fingers flexing around the strap of his bag, his jaw tight. Then, without warning, his arm shot out, pressing the stop button. The elevator shuddered to a halt.

She turned to him, heart thudding, parting her lips slightly at the heat in his gaze.

Bucky exhaled sharply, backing her up against the wall, caging her in with his body, dipping his head slightly as if debating what to say. “I left you a magnetic card inside the rice container. If anything happens, if you need anything, if you are scared, go to Stark Tower. That’ll get you in.”

She swallowed, then nodded, unconsciously gazing at his lips.

His fingers curled against the strap of his bag. "I wish things were different, doll." His voice was rough and thick. "I wanted-"

"I know." She reached up, cupping his stubbled cheek, and he leaned into her touch for just a second before closing the distance.

The bag hit the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t care. He was too busy drinking her in, pressing her against the elevator wall as his lips moved hungrily over hers. His vibranium hand cupped the back of her head, fingers fisting her hair, holding her there like he was afraid she’d disappear before he got back.

Five days. Too damn long.

Her fingers curled against his jaw, nails grazing his stubble, and he swallowed the little sound she made when he tilted her chin up, deepening the kiss. He was being selfish. He knew it. Taking what he could before duty called, before he had to step back into that other version of himself.

She pulled back just enough to catch her breath, “Bucky,” she murmured, and damn, if his name didn’t sound perfect on her lips.

He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to step away, as his muscles screamed in protest when he bent to grab his bag. When he straightened, his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, wiping away the tiniest smudge of spit-slicked lip-gloss.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

She nodded, licking her slightly swollen lips. “I know.”

With that, he pressed the button, and the elevator jerked back to life.

----

The days passed in a strange mix of normalcy, and the feeling of Bucky’s absence. Thomas was as cheerful as ever, filling the apartment with laughter and endless questions, but the hole was there. It was ridiculous, really, Bucky wasn’t even that talkative, wasn’t the type to hover or make himself the center of attention. And yet, without him, something was missing.

She tried not to dwell on it, focusing on Thomas, and keeping herself busy. But little things kept catching her off guard. Cooking felt different, and she caught herself making the amount of food he would eat with his insane metabolism, instead of adapting it to her appetite.

Then, one afternoon, her phone rang. It was Steve.

“Hey,” she greeted, balancing it between her ear and shoulder as she stirred the pot on the stove.

"Hey, uh... listen," Steve started, and her stomach twisted. No. “Bucky’s fine.”

Her hand froze mid-stir.

“He’s fine,” he repeated, sensing her tension. “Took a couple of bullets, but nothing the serum won’t heal. He just- he needs rest, but he refused to stay at the medbay after the briefing.”

Her grip tightened around the spoon.

“What do you mean, bullets?”

“High caliber rounds. Pierced his suit. He’s healing, but it’s taking longer than usual.”

She exhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a second. “Where is he now?”

"He left the tower and is probably heading home. Just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you, Steve. I'll see he rests properly, don't you worry." She tried not to alert Thomas, serving him the chicken and rice and chatting normally with him about the bubble concoction they were going to prepare tomorrow.

----

The sound of the key turning in the lock made her pause, tightening the hold on the plate she was washing. The door swung open before she could reach it, and Thomas was already bolting across the apartment before she could stop him.

Bucky barely had time to drop his bag before the kid flung himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.

“Daddy!”

She watched as Bucky caught him easily, staggering only slightly before securing the kid against his hip. His free hand came up to rub soothing circles over the boy’s back.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, buddy,” he murmured with exhaustion. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Thomas only clung tighter, little fingers fisting into the fabric of his henley. His shoulders shook slightly, and it didn’t take much to realize he was crying. Bucky sighed, shutting the door with his foot before making his way toward the kitchen, carrying Thomas like he weighed nothing. He had no idea how to handle this. He could patch up wounds, endure pain, and fight through gunfire, but comforting a crying child, his child, always left him feeling helpless. He pressed a kiss to Thomas’ temple, tightening his grip. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

When he stepped into the warm light, she caught a flicker of something on his face, an almost imperceptible wince as he shifted the boy in his arms.

He was dressed comfortably in a clean pair of black sweatpants and a henley, surely got a shower and a checkup before bolting home but his exhaustion and pain were obvious. The way his shoulders sagged just slightly, the way the corner of his mouth twitched when Thomas moved too suddenly against him.

Still, he offered her a small, tired smile. “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.”

Both of them hesitated, suddenly aware of what had happened before he left.

Then, she reached out, briefly squeezing his forearm. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” he admitted, shifting his weight, careful not to jostle Thomas too much. “Actually, I’m starving. But don’t cook anything, just some sandwiches will do.”

She scoffed. “There’s chicken and rice. I ended up making a lot, so…”

Bucky groaned, and just that sound sent a ripple of warmth through her body. “That sounds so good, doll.” The endearment slipped out naturally, but Thomas didn’t seem to register it.

“Alright,” she said, moving toward the counter. “Go lay in your bed, and I’ll bring everything in a pinch.”

He just looked at her. “I’ll just sit here and-”

“This is not a democracy, Bucky,” she cut in smoothly, leveling him with a look. Then she turned to Thomas, softening her tone. “Baby, will you do me a favor and take Daddy to his room? Maybe help him with his boots?”

Thomas nodded eagerly. “Come on, Daddy. You gotta listen to her.”

Bucky huffed, twitching his lips like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just muttered, “Little traitor,” and turned toward the bedroom.

She smirked to herself as she turned back to the stove, reheating the food.

A few minutes later, with the tray carefully balanced in her hands, she nudged the door open with her foot.

He was stretched out against the pillows, with one arm draped over his eyes, while Thomas sat cross-legged beside him, chatting happily.

She set the tray on the nightstand and nudged his thigh gently. “Eat.”

He peeked up at her, exhausted but amused. “So bossy.”

She ignored the comment, crossing her arms as she assessed him. “Do you need help?” Her voice was carefully neutral, not wanting to say too much with Thomas still in the room.

Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face. “Steve called you, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “On your way here.”

He muttered a curse under his breath.

She hesitated, then carefully asked, “Where?” She didn’t say how bad, but the implication was clear.

“Shoulder and thigh,” he admitted reluctantly.

She huffed. “More reason to stay in bed, then.”

“I can sit up on my own, y’know.”

“Will you manage to-”

His glare cut her off. “You’re not feeding me like a baby. I’m very capable of doing it myself.” As I have been for years.

She lifted her hands in surrender. “Alright, I assume you’ll sit on your own too, then.” She took a step back toward the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

And with that, she disappeared, leaving him grumbling into his rice.

----

She sorted through the laundry basket, folding clothes into neat piles, and smoothing out wrinkles with the flat of her palm. Every so often, she glanced at the clock, waiting for the right moment. When she figured that he might have emptied his plate, she made her way to his room, stepping lightly.

Thomas was curled up beside him, with one small hand resting on Bucky’s chest, and his tiny face relaxed in sleep. Bucky, on the other hand, looked exhausted but awake, flicking his gaze to her the moment she entered.

She kept her voice low. “Want another helping?”

His answer came in the form of a slow nod, “And… maybe a piece of bread too.”

She returned a few minutes later, with a plate balanced in one hand, and a folded blanket in the other. She placed the plate on the nightstand, then leaned down to drape the blanket over Thomas, tucking it around him carefully.

As she straightened, her eyes landed on Bucky again, and she sighed. “Stubborn man.”

Bucky blinked at her, confused, until she grabbed a cushion and circled the bed to his side.

“Come on,” she murmured, “Lift yourself a little more.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though he didn’t stop her when she slid a hand behind his back, helping him as he shifted.

“You are not fine.” She gave him a pointed look before shoving the cushion behind him, making sure it gave him proper support.

He let out a small huff, but the fight had already drained out of him. It wasn’t just about the cushion, and they both knew it.

Her eyes flicked down to his henley, her lips twitching. “Besides, your shirt ratted you out.”

Bucky frowned, looking down. Sure enough, greasy stains dotted the fabric where he had spilled food earlier. Shit. He had been careful picking up the rice grains and the occasional cube of chicken, or at least he thought he had.

Grumbling a low fine, he settled more comfortably against the pillow as she handed him the plate.

She hovered for a second, like she was about to say something, then shook her head. “I’ll let you eat. I should get back to the laundry.”

Before she could step away, his fingers brushed against hers. “…Stay?”

It was soft. A little unsure.

She had missed him. God, she had missed him.

She didn’t hesitate before perching on the edge of the bed, close but not too close. “Alright,” she said, gently. “I’ll stay with you.”

Bucky took a few bites in silence before she finally asked, “How are you feeling?” Then, before he could deflect, she quickly added, “And no lying. I know you act tough in front of Thomas, but he’s asleep now.”

He hesitated, dropping his gaze to his plate. “It’s been a long time since I got shot,” he admitted. “Guess I forgot how much it could hurt. But the serum will take care of it.” He shrugged, scooping up another bite.

She hummed, watching him closely. “Still,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Just because it’ll heal faster doesn’t mean you should ignore it.”

Bucky scoffed softly, chewing with unnecessary focus. “I’m not ignoring it.”

She arched a brow. “You told me once your metabolism burns through medications too fast. So, I assume no painkillers or anti-inflammatories are doing much right now. Which means you have to rest. Tonight, Steve told me-”

“Steve talks too much.” His voice was dry.

She sighed and shot him a pointed look. “He worries about you. And he’s right.” Her voice softened. “You have to take it easy, alright?”

Bucky swallowed, his throat worked around the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. He had missed her. More than he wanted to admit. And now, here she was, sitting beside him, fussing over him, making sure he was comfortable, and staying, even though she didn’t have to. He lifted another bite to his mouth, chewing slowly, just to focus on something else. “I’ll rest,” he said eventually, quieter now. “You’ll be here, anyway.”

Something flickered in her eyes at that. A small smile played at the corner of her lips. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’ll be around.”

And somehow, Bucky knew she wasn’t just talking about tonight.

----

Since Bucky was already home, she settled into Thomas’ bed, which was substantially better than the couch. At some point in the night, a noise in the kitchen startled her awake, a faint rattle of metal against wood, followed by a muffled curse.

Her heart stuttered before her brain recognized the timbre, Bucky. She exhaled slowly as she rolled over, and reached for her phone. 4 a.m.

Frowning, she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She grabbed the wool cardigan she had draped over the chair and pulled it on over her nightdress, padding out into the hall on silent feet.

A quick glance inside Bucky’s room showed Thomas still curled up against his dad’s pillow, sleeping soundly.

But in the kitchen, she found Bucky squatting, stacking pots and pans back into the cabinet while swearing.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered harshly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. He barely had time to lift his head before she was right there, grabbing his good arm, and tugging at him to stand up. "You got shot in the thigh and you’re squatting at this hour doing God knows what? Is this your idea of resting?"

For a second, he looked like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, but he recovered fast, smoothing his expression into something unreadable.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna wake you." His voice was low, scratchy from sleep deprivation. "I just wanted to heat some milk, but I can’t find the damn steel jar-"

She blinked. "And you're not microwaving it because…?"

"It's not the same," he muttered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She arched a brow.

"The texture’s different," he elaborated begrudgingly. "And I’ve always heated it this way, so…"

Ah. Perks of being born in the ‘20s, she supposed.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, fine. Just sit down and I’ll find it for you."

He didn’t move.

“Bucky.” Her tone was sharp. "Go sit on that chair or I swear to God, I-"

Before she could finish, his hands were suddenly on her waist, gripping firmly, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her breath hitched as he effortlessly placed her on the counter, stepping into the space between her thighs, crowding her in.

“You were saying?” he murmured against her ear, his voice was a low rasp of challenge and something else.

A shiver ghosted down her spine.

Oh, fuck.

She swallowed hard, and her pulse jumped under the heat of his mouth.

“You know,” he murmured, brushing his lips on the shell of her ear, “you’re pretty bossy for being the nanny.” His grasp on her hips became firmer, as his fingers pressed into the soft fabric of her nightdress and her flesh. “And last time I checked, you’re not my mom, so-”

He tilted his head, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the column of her neck, pausing just at her pulse point to nip gently at her skin.

Her fingers curled against the edge of the counter, gripping the cool surface as she tried to remember how words worked.

"Where does that leave you, huh?" His voice was a low, rough drawl against her skin.

Where was she standing?

Her mind scrambled for something -anything- to latch onto. "I-um. I'm just worried because Steve-"

"Fuck Steve."

He tilted her chin up, guiding her gaze to his, and damn it all, his eyes were too much. Dark and heated and full of intent.

“Tell me, doll,” he murmured, stroking his thumb on the curve of her jaw. “What’s going on here? We owed ourselves a little chat… and damn if I don’t think it’s time for that.”

She exhaled shakily, feeling like the ground beneath her had been pulled away. This wasn’t how she imagined this conversation if she had ever dared to imagine it at all.

His body was warm between her legs, his hands were still gripping her hips, and she could feel the tension radiating from his body. Expectant. Waiting.

And yet, she hesitated.

It wasn’t that she didn’t feel the same. God, she did. But putting it into words, exposing herself… that was terrifying.

Her silence must have stretched too long because his face shifted, and something guarded crept into his expression. He exhaled through his nose, tightening his jaw.

He should be ashamed of himself.

This wasn’t how he was raised. This wasn’t how a man should treat a woman, coaxing her, pressuring her to speak first, to lay her feelings bare before he had the nerve to do the same.

His old self would’ve been mortified.

But that version of him, the one who had confidence, who knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to navigate a woman’s affections without second-guessing himself, died in Austria.

What was left was a man who had spent decades as a weapon, and then, after that, just trying to survive the modern world carrying the weight of what he’d done. Who didn’t know how to handle something good without overthinking it to death. He could still hear himself, the desperate edge in his own voice just moments ago.

"Tell me what this is. Tell me what you want."

Like a goddamn interrogation.

"Sorry," he muttered, stepping back slightly, though his hands lingered on her hips like he couldn’t make himself let go. “Just… ah, this is so pathetic. Let me-” He took a breath, and she saw it, the moment he forced himself to speak, to be vulnerable. “I like you. A lot.” He swallowed hard. “Hell, since the first day I saw you at the kindergarten, I thought you were pretty.”

She felt warmth crawl up her neck, a slow burn spreading across her cheeks. She wasn’t used to hearing things like that. Not with such raw honesty.

"And… and I thought I’d never see you again," he continued, "until Steve pulled that stunt at a time when I desperately needed help. And then… then things got worse for me.”

She blinked, confused. “Worse?”

He huffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Worse. Because it wasn’t just about finding you attractive. So fucking attractive.”

Her heart slammed against her chest.

“You became indispensable at home. You made this a home." His fingers flexed slightly against her. "You put warmth in here, in me. Stirred things that have been missing in my life since the war. You are kind… and you make me want things that I shouldn’t.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and something pained flickered across his face. “I shouldn’t, because of what… because of the families I destroyed, because of what I did.”

His voice cracked slightly, and she felt her own breath stutter.

"And then… you’re the fucking nanny and-" He let out a shaky exhale, tightening his grip before loosening again. "And this works. My son loves you. And I have no right to rob him of that if you-"

She didn’t let him finish.

Her fingers brushed softly against his lips. Stopping the spiral before it could consume him.

Bucky froze.

It had all poured out of him before he could stop it, the words scrapped past his throat, and now, now she was just looking at him.

Wide eyes. Lips slightly parted.

His chest clenched.

Shit. Fuck.

He shouldn’t have said all that. He should have-

She tilted her head slightly, dragging her fingers in the faintest touch down his chin, ten rested it on his chest.

He inhaled sharply.

"Don’t," she finally whispered.

Bucky frowned, furrowing his brows. "Don't what?"

"Don't pull away. You deserve to want things.”

He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that until now. Her hand was warm against his chest, her touch so casual, like it belonged there. Like she belonged there.

And then-

"Do you take me for someone who would do what we did in the elevator, what we have been doing since then if I didn’t have feelings for you?" she asked softly.

He shook his head before he could even think.

"There is your answer."

And just like that, he was done for.

His fingers flexed against the fabric of her nightdress like he needed to hold on to something. "Ok... ok. I don't know how people do this kind of thing nowadays. We said what we wanted to say, and before, it was just enough to-"

"Bucky" she chuckled, interrupting his rambling. She felt like she was in high school all over again "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

It was such a simple question. One that made his brain stutter because, Christ, when was the last time he was allowed to be just a man and not a soldier who was drafted, not a puppeteered weapon, not a father trying to hold his shit together?

“…Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” she murmured, as her fingers traced light patterns along his chest. "Or... what term do you prefer? Beau? Sweetheart?" She asked, teasing.

Bucky huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Beau does feel right to me,” he admitted. “But… I gotta move on at some point, right?” He met her gaze, and saw something soft lingering there. “Boyfriend it is.”

Her smile widened. “Good choice.”

He exhaled, like some invisible weight had lifted from him, then smirked. “Glad you approve, sweetheart.”

"Well,” she started. “Now that we had 'the talk' would you be a good boy and sit on the chair while I warm your milk?"

He lifted a brow at the unintentional innuendo, and the corner of his mouth twitched with intent.

“Oh, my God.” Heat flooded her face.

He just grinned, shameless. “M’simply following the analogy, sweetheart.”

She swatted his shoulder with the nearest dish towel, face still burning. “Oh, you are terrible!”

He caught her wrist before she could pull away in a firm but gentle grip. He turned it over, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the skin of her pulse point. His gaze lifted to hers, dark and unreadable.

“Oh, doll,” his voice dropped lower, rough with promise. “You have no idea how terrible I can be.”

And then, his free hand slid up her thigh, gripping just above her knee as he stepped fully between her legs, fitting against her perfectly. She gasped as his lips crashed into hers, all slow-burning desire and restrained hunger.

Her arms wound around his shoulders, threading her fingers into his hair, tugging until a growl rumbled in his chest. His hands gripped her tighter, pulling her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.

When he dragged his mouth away, it was only to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, and down the column of her throat. His stubble scraped deliciously against her skin, sending heat pooling low in her stomach.

“Bucky,” she gasped, tilting her head back as his teeth grazed over her pulse.

“Hmm?” His voice was a low rasp, lips teasing just beneath her ear as his hands wandered, pressing his fingertips into her soft flesh.

She didn’t have an answer. Didn’t know what she wanted to say.

Her breath hitched as his hands slid up, cupping her breasts over the thin fabric of her nightdress. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and the touch was so light it made her shudder.

"Fuck," he muttered against her throat, still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. "No bra? You tryin’ to kill me, sweetheart."

She arched into his hands, gripping his shoulders for balance. “Why would I sleep with it?” she whispered, teasing, even as her voice trembled.

Bucky exhaled sharply, a hot breath against her collarbone. “Fair point,” he muttered, as his hands kneaded and his thumbs circled, pressed, and flicked.

She gasped, tilting her head back, giving him more space to kiss, bite, devour.

His mouth latched onto her pulse point, sucking just enough to make her squirm. His hands left her breasts to wander lower, curling his fingers around the hem of her nightdress, teasing the bare skin underneath.

Her legs pressed around his waist, and she felt him, hard and big under the sweatpants, pressed right where she needed him.

“Will you tell me to stop?” he rasped, as he rested his forehead against hers.

She swallowed hard, digging her nails into his back as her eyes flicked toward the hallway. “I should… you need to rest, remember?” she tried, though the words came out weaker than she intended.

Bucky chuckled. “Not to be presumptuous, doll, but the limits of what my body can or can't do while injured have been tested decades ago. And believe me, two shots ain't enough to talk me out of this.”

Her stomach twisted, and heat pooled deep in her pussy as his fingers teased at the hem of her nightdress again, but she still managed to stammer, “What about Thomas? What if he wakes up, what if he comes in?”

She barely had time to finish the sentence before she let out a quiet yelp as Bucky’s strong arms lifted her effortlessly. His hands gripped the back of her thighs, as he carried her toward Thomas’s bedroom door, nudging it open with his foot before stepping inside.

With one smooth motion, he set her down on the bed, then reached back and grabbed a chair from the desk. Before she could say a word, he wedged it firmly under the doorknob, locking them in.

“If he wakes up, which I doubt,” he murmured, standing tall as his fingers curled around the back of his henley, “we’ll have time to make ourselves decent… and think of an excuse.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor.

Next Chapter

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Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[artaxlivs]

Which came first? The chicken or the scrambled eggs?

Rated E: Smut below the line, link to the Ao3 is here.

"Boy, you know I love you, right?" Uncle Wayne says gruffly over his favorite Garfield mug.

Oh jeez.

Eddie wracks his brain trying to figure out what Wayne's figured out this time. The drug deals? He'd thought they were both silently agreeing that they knew but wouldn't speak of those. The Upside Down? Nah, Eddie covered that pretty well, gave the same bullshit story the Feds did. Maybe something mundane like Eddie not doing his dishes?

That's an age-old argument right there.

Damn it.

"I know you do, old man," Eddie sighs, finally just deciding to take whatever it is on the chin. "Say what you wanna say."

There's a brief pause while Uncle Wayne must gather his thoughts - and the irrational swoop of Eddie's stomach over that is gonna give him nightmares because his abandonment issues are wide and deep - then Wayne clears his throat and says, "Whoever it is that you been leaving in your bedroom to sneak out after I fall asleep every morning...you can just invite him out for breakfast with us."

Eddie chokes on his own coffee. Well, sort of coffee - it's a lot of sugar and milk with a splash of coffee.

Not her. Him. They've never talked about it but Eddie knows Wayne has always had his suspicions. But he wasn't ready to have this conversation before the sun was even all the way up.

Before Eddie can finish coughing down his throatful of coffee, though, Wayne is shouting, "Eddie's boyfriend - you can come out and have some eggs if you want!"

A loud thump and the sound of someone obviously scrambling up from a bed comes from Eddie's room. "Yes, sir."  A muffled voice calls back.

Staring down the short hallway in horror, Eddie has a minor freak out. Okay - major freak out. But silently and quickly because...ohhhh this tangled web he’s woven for himself....

"Jesus Christ, Wayne." Eddie shakes his head before dropping it on the formica tabletop. He doesn't have to look up to know that Wayne is smiling that little smile that he gets when he proves that he's still smarter than Eddie is sneaky.

Wayne pulls open the fridge and gets the eggs back out, adding three more to the mixing bowl to whisk up.

Eddie still doesn't lift his head when Steve comes out of the bedroom because he just cannot bear to meet Steve's eyes. He eventually does look up, though, when he hears Wayne swear under his breath and nearly drop the frying pan.

"Ain't you the Harrington boy?" Wayne asks, looking a little dazed, obviously not expecting Steve Harrington to be standing barefoot, wearing one of Eddie's band T-shirts and a pair of his own sweats, in their tiny trailer kitchen, hastily shaping his hair into order as he reaches his hand out to shake.

"Yes, sir. And, um, I'd appreciate it if you kept that between us," Steve suddenly looks smaller, "for now, at least. I'm not sure what my dad...um, well." He worries his bottom lip and crosses his arms over his chest protectively, tucking his hands tight against his body. "I just - I don't think he'd approve. My - my dad."

Approve of what? Slumming it in a trailer park with a petty drug dealer? Because contrary to what Wayne thinks, Steve is not Eddie's boyfriend. They sleep together but not together. It's just for the nightmares. Sleeping alone sucks.

Wayne is nodding, though, the crease between his eyebrows the only thing giving away that he's upset about what he's hearing. Eddie's really not sure what he's thinking but he doesn't ask because maybe - just maybe - if no one asks anything specific, they can get out of this breakfast without Eddie being outed or any of them being embarrassed.

Because, contrary to Wayne’s assumption, Steve does not know that Eddie is gay. Or that the all night spooning they've been doing for weeks now is not as platonic for Eddie as it is for Steve. Eddie's not crossing any boundaries or anything creepy or anything, he's just...pining. It's fine. He'll get over it.

If they get through this breakfast without Eddie being outed, at least.

Steve, of course, offers to help but Wayne turns him down, nudges him toward the coffee pot to pour himself a mug instead. Which he does. Scoffing incredulously, Eddie gets up and swipes the mug from him, pouring it’s contents into Wayne's almost empty mug before setting it in the sink and taking out a clean plastic cup with a faded Charlie Brown & Linus on it.

"Sit." He tells Steve and reaches into the fridge for the orange juice he knows Steve prefers. He ignores the arched eyebrow Wayne aims at him. Mind your business, old man.

Breakfast is just scrambled eggs and toast. It's quick and not too heavy so Wayne can go to sleep after. It's always been the one meal they're guaranteed to have together. Even when most teenagers were sleeping in until ten am or noon, Eddie has always gotten up around 6:30 because Wayne's shift ends at six and he comes straight home and takes a shower, then they have breakfast together.

"So...Mr. Munson-" Steve starts after he swallows a drink of his juice and settles into one of the cracked vinyl chairs.

"Just Wayne, kid," Wayne insists gruffly, setting the pan of eggs down on a pot holder on the table.

"Oh - sorry," Steve says, letting his eyes fall away. It's weird, seeing him cowed by Wayne. Steve doesn't normally do that with adults. He's a charmer. He charms them all. Mrs. Wheeler would force Nancy to marry Steve if she could and Mrs. Henderson thinks that Steve is the second coming.

"Don't gotta be sorry...Steve. Just - call me Wayne." He comes back with a plate of toast. The butter and jam are already on the table. Eddie loads up his plate knowing Steve will do the polite thing and take less than him.

Clearing his throat, Steve nods, "Yes sir - W-Wayne." He stumbles over the first name but then keeps going - "I was just wondering...about the hats? And the mugs?" He looks around like he's taking them all in for the first time.

With a little smile, Wayne looks from the rows of hats and mugs to Steve and then back again. "Those are all Eddie." He doesn't elaborate but Steve's already nodding with a warm smile.

"I had a feeling." Steve nods again, slathering jam on a slice of toast. "Let me guess - this is him taking the joke way too far?"

The sound that comes out of Wayne can really only be called a chortle. There's nothing else that fits. Eddie is so glad his mouth was empty because it's like nothing he's ever heard from Wayne and he would have choked on his food. As it is, he makes a little offended squawk that they both ignore.

"Yup. You know him well I see." Wayne nods at Eddie but looks at Steve. "He got me this Garfield mug and a matching hat for his first Christmas here and I didn't want to disappoint him so I went a little overboard about how much I loved them. Wore the hat and used the mug religiously." He lifts the Garfield mug up for a sip and lifts an eyebrow at Eddie.

Steve knocks his knee against Eddie's under the table and when Eddie looks over at him, he’s smiling a fond smile at Eddie. He ducks his head to hide what he knows is a blush on his cheeks, letting Wayne and Steve steer the conversation where they want for the rest of the meal.

It’s not until they’re washing up and Wayne’s waved goodnight to them both, that Eddie speaks again. He bumps his hip into Steve’s as Steve finishes washing and rinsing the plastic cup and hands it over for Eddie to dry. “Sorry about that.”

Sliding the egg pan into the soapy water, Steve dries his hands off on a towel, leaving the pan to soak and turns to Eddie, hip propped against the counter. ‘For what?” Steve asks, confusion evident on his face.

He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to steer Steve away from the flashing neon arrow pointing to Eddie that screams “GAY” without giving himself away if Steve hasn’t gotten that idea. “Um, just Wayne and your dad and - you know, all of this.” He waves his hand around in a general all encompassing circle to include the trailer, his life and Eddie himself.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Eddie is pretty sure Steve asks but it’s so unexpected that his brain almost comes to a screeching halt.

“W-what?”

“I asked,” Steve says, removing the scant foot of space between them by sliding along the edge of the counter, “if you wanted to kiss me?”

Eddie swallows, a lifetime of fear balled up in his throat. It has long since threatened to choke him but this time he pushes through it. Because dammit - he’s jumped into a lake and swam after 3 other teenagers he barely knew, he’s tromped through an alternate dimension, he’s played Metallica in hell and outran a horde of demon bats. He’s faced a fucking Lich with nothing but handmade weapons. He can do this. He can.

“Yes,” it’s barely a whisper and made through trembling lips but Steve hears it because he smiles, warm and soft and the next thing Eddie knows, their lips are pressed together and yes, yes, yes. Steve’s lips are just as warm and soft as his smile and just a little demanding as he pushes past Eddie’s and slips his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. 

Steve Harrington tastes like orange juice and possibilities. And before Eddie can decide what to do with that, Steve is dragging him down the hallway and back into his messy, unmade too small bed. He’s pressing Eddie down on his back and leaning over him to kiss him again. He’s rolling his hips against Eddie’s, brushing their hard cocks together in a way that makes Eddie’s toes curl.

And it feels like every night they laid here together, whispering into each other’s shoulders, every night they spent cocooned in safety, every brush of skin on skin was foreplay, was flirting, was courting - that all of it was a lead up to this moment where they could slip easily from friendship to something more.

Eager and keyed up, Eddie pushes Steve’s sweats down to his thighs, follows by shoving his own down as well. Copying Steve’s movement when he yanks off his shirt and then they’re skin to skin, dicks rubbing against each other as they both grind and chase their pleasure together. Steve shifts, putting his thigh between Eddie’s and cupping his ass to pull him forward and there it is, they’re slotted together just right. 

Eddie feels a little zing of pleasure up his back as he ruts against Steve. They haven’t stopped kissing long enough for Eddie to even moan Steve’s name but it’s fine, it’s great, he’s so close already, just a bit more, he’s almost there. He thrusts up and Steve squeezes his ass again, pushing their bodies together. His hand slips around, dipping  between Eddie’s cheeks, sliding one finger down his cleft until it presses against his hole where, sure, he has touched, but no one else has. Steve slipping just the tip of one finger into Eddie is enough to send him tumbling over the edge with a muffled shout.

Eddie’s still twitching through the aftershocks when Steve moves his hand back to Eddie’s hip, Steve holds him still so he can thrust into the sticky mess that Eddie’s made between them. “That was, fuck, so hot,” Steve swears before he clamps his mouth to Eddie’s again, pulling a whine from him just before Steve comes with his own shout swallowed up by Eddie’s mouth.

Slowly, their breathing returns to normal, the sweat cools on their skin and Steve languidly traces one finger through the mess as it starts to stick to Eddie’s treasure trail. Finally, when Eddie can think clearly again, he asks, “So I guess this means you’re not worried that Wayne thinks you’re my boyfriend?”

“Worried?” Steve grins up at him from where he’s resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I think we should make him dinner before he goes to work as a thank you.” He rolls up, propping a hand on either side of Eddie’s chest to look down at him with a fond smile, “I mean, how long would we have lain next to each other in the dark waiting for the other one to make the first move?”

Going up on his elbows brings Eddie’s lips close enough to Steve for a kiss but he doesn't yet, he just stares up at him for a moment, then, with complete honesty, he tells Steve, “I’d have lain next to you for forever if I had to.”

Check it out on Ao3