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Bucky swirled the whiskey in his glass. He had been a kid during the prohibition era, barely understood or cared what was going on. In New York City there hadn’t been much of a change, a speakeasy in every basement and enough cops who were on the take or willing to turn a blind eye that the Prohibition didn’t seem to exist for the older kids in the neighborhood and the soldiers coming back from war.
He was a kid of the depression, hoping your job wouldn’t get cut and ignoring the people who used to have a little start to have nothing.
The 21st century was a glorious thing though. Sure, he sometimes did the math and the inflation made him cringe, but the drink specials were better.
Which was how he was stumbling over to Steve’s place (his place—for now) having trouble with the keys. Even if his dose of serum was smaller or dumbed down because it was HYDRA lite ™, he still had issues seeing in the dark when drunk. “Captain, fuckin’ America would too,” he muttered to himself, almost tripping over the WELCOME HOME mat Sam had bought Steve as a joke.
“Would what?” Steve asked. He was perched at the counter, that stupid fucking tablet thing Stark had given him in front of him.
“Trip over shit drunk.”
Steve sighed, flipping that dumb merchandised case closed on his stupid fucking not computer and stood up, walking towards Bucky. “When you didn’t come home I was worried about you.”
Bucky leaned against the door, a smirk on his face. “Yup. Cause that’s what friends are for, ain’t that right, Steve?” He wiped his hand down his face, sighing deeply. “We’re too old for this shit.”
Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, the heat radiating and blooming in his chest. Or maybe that was his heart beating faster. “Lets go to bed.”
“Is that an invite?”
“Buck, you’re drunk,” Steve responded. He refused to look Bucky in the eye, but his cheeks had turned pink.
“Steve,” Bucky said, grabbing the hand on his shoulder. “I want your star spangled dick in my commie hole.”
“Jesus!” Steve took a step back, turning away from Bucky. “You’re drunk. You need to sleep this off.” He turned slightly, still not looking directly at Bucky. “Tomorrow we can forget this happened,” he said, before walking briskly down the hall towards his room.
Bucky didn’t move until he heard Steve’s door shut. He took a step forward but gave up on walking, collapsing where he stood. Not exactly as romantic as he had planned, well—not romantic at all, but he had tried.
He would need to start meeting people. People who he a real future with. Maybe a personal ad? Online dating profile? Whatever people were using these days, it would be a fucking mess. 70+ year old ex super spy, brainwashed by an organization with Nazi and Russian Communist ties, doesn’t like escalators, swears like a soldier because he is one, drinks more than your Catholic grandma, wants some Patriotic dick. Probably not yours. If you’re not Captain America I am not interested. Not the actor, please.
Well, no one was perfect.
Well, some people were close to perfect.
Bucky felt his eyelids droop and thought about getting up, walking at least to the couch so he could sleep there. It would take too much effort, though, and if he positioned his head just right, then the back of the door was almost comfortable.
He was stirred by a low sigh and soft footsteps what felt like only moments later. When he opened his eyes he saw Steve outlined by the sun standing in front of him. “Jesus, turn down your patriotism, it’s too early in the morning for this crap.”
“Couldn’t even make it to the couch?”
“Don’t worry, I have a super soldier sized hangover.” Bucky stood up, dusting himself off before pausing and stringing together a list of profanities a mile a minute. “Tell me I didn’t say something about your dick and patriotism last night.”
Steve frowned, grabbing his keys from the dish that he left by the door. “I told you, we don’t have to talk about it. You were drunk. Drunk people can sometimes get a bit, ah, frisky, it’s fine.”
“NO!” Bucky shouted, reaching out a hand before taking it back and clenching it into a fist. “I mean yes, but there is more to it.”
“I’m supposed to meet Sam in ten minutes for a run.”
“I love you, Steve,” Bucky said in a rush.
“Oh.”
Bucky’s heart plummeted and he unclenched his fist. The look on Steve’s face was enough. “It’s okay. It’s okay that you don’t—I’ll be good. I just don’t want to lose you, but I had to tell you.” Bucky moved past him, head already moving a mile a minute figuring out where he would stay next, since he obviously couldn’t stay with Steve anymore. Do you need to disclose failed romantic endeavors to your workplace? “It’s okay, go on your run and I’ll be packed up before—“
Bucky felt Steve’s hand grab his wrist but refused to look at him. “I’m sorry, ‘Oh’ is a really bad response. I love you too is much more appropriate.”
Bucky finally looked up after a long pause, mimicking Steve’s smile. “Are you saying it would be appropriate or that you love me?”
“I’m saying I’m in love with you,” Steve bit his lip and blushed. “And if you wouldn’t mind too terribly I would like to kiss you.”
“God, you’re such a punk,” Bucky replied, already moving closer to Steve.
Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed about this before, and done a lot more than dream about it. Some of those even felt real. But having Steve’s lips moving under his; Steve’s hand on his waist and in his hair; Steve’s tongue licking at his lower lip before biting softly was more than he could have imagined. Steve was warm and made soft noises when Bucky raked his fingers down his back.
He started backing towards the couch, but it turned out that kissing Steve had turned his brain into mush. His super assassin brain that—except while drunk—could navigate this place blind folded was not functioning, and instead he hissed when his back connected with the wall. “You good?” Steve asked, panting slightly.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky replied, kissing him again. It wasn’t a couch but this was fine, this was a surface. This was a place where Bucky could grab Steve’s ass, that finely chiseled monument that deserved more attention then any renovated obelisk, and pull him closer, grinding their hips together.
Steve removed his lips and Bucky was going to kill him, hand to God, but then he started kissing his jaw, pulling his hair so he could get access to more skin, and that was okay. “Fuck,” he whined, grabbing on to Steve’s shirt, clawing at it. “Steve Rogers, I swear if you don’t take this dumb fucking running shirt off I will rip it into shreds.”
“Shit,” Steve replied, taking a step back. “I need to call Sam.”
“Are you serious?”
“We’re supposed to meet in,” Steve looked at his watch, grimacing. “Five minutes.”
“Call him later,” Bucky growled.
“It’ll take two seconds.”
“TEXT HIM!”
“Just two seconds,” Steve replied, already fiddling with his phone. Bucky groaned, pulling Steve back to him and lifting up his shirt, running a hand down his muscles and watching Steve shiver. “Hey Sam, I’m not going to be able to make it—No I’m not going to show up on your right in—Tomorrow I promise—I can explain it—“
“He has to go, bye!” Bucky yelled into the phone, grabbing it out of Steve’s hand and tossing it. Steve looked like he was about to protest but Bucky started pulling at his shirt, leaving Steve no choice but to lift up his arms as Bucky tossed it too.
“Wait, stop,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s hands.
“Please tell me you don’t need to call Natasha to let her know you have to cancel your tennis match or something, because that can wait.”
“No I’m serious.” Steve said. He held Bucky’s hands between them, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “This changes everything, Buck. We could still be just friends, but after, I don’t think I could. I don’t think I could if we go any further and if we start to do things like a couple and one of us gets scared—“
“Steve,” Bucky said, stopping him. “We could stop if you want, but I don’t want to, and I don’t plan on halfassing this for a few months. This is it.” Steve smiled at him, pressing their foreheads together. “Now I hate to be so romantic, but can we go to the bedroom and get naked and never leave now?”
Steve laughed, kissing the corner of his mouth before throwing him over his shoulder. “I would protest, but I don’t mind the view,” Bucky said, kissing Steve’s back.
“I don’t either,” Steve responded, smacking his ass before setting him down on the bed. Steve sunk down to his knees, taking off Bucky’s shoes and socks before moving towards the fly of his jeans. “Do me a favor and take your shirt off, please.”
Bucky complied, quickly, because he didn’t want to miss a second of Steve unzipping his fly, popping the button of his jeans open, his hand inches away from the bulge that was starting to make them uncomfortably tight. “Up,” Steve commanded, tapping Bucky’s hips and divesting him of his pants. Steve kissed his hipbone, licking it softly and making Bucky moan. “Kiss me, damn it,” he hissed when Steve started tonguing the waistband of his briefs.
Steve looked up at him and smirked before kissing his package through his underwear, pulling them down slowly until Bucky’s dick was no longer covered. Steve grabbed it loosely, pumping a few times before kissing the head and making Bucky arch slightly, before lapping at it wetly. Bucky bit his lip, hands already in Steve’s hair. Steve opened his mouth and swallowed him, wrapping his tongue around Bucky as he bobbed his head.
Bucky curled his fingers in Steve’s hair, trying hard not to just start fucking Steve’s mouth. Steve’s nails were digging into his thighs, raking them red as his mouth worked up and down and drove him close to insanity. Steve hollowed his cheeks and Bucky could feel it, if he didn’t stop he would end up coming down Steve’s throat or on his face. “Steve, stop, if you don’t stop, Jesus—Steve.”
Steve’s mouth popped off of his dick wetly, smiling as he kissed Bucky’s thighs and continued to stroke him languidly. “That’s okay.”
Bucky moaned, his head hitting the back of the pillow. “I don’t—I want you in me right now and I don’t want to come until your dick is in me.”
“My star spangled dick?”
“I’m never living that down am I?”
“In your commie hole?”
“And people think I’m the punk,” Bucky growled, pulling Steve up on top of him and kissing him. “And I think your shorts need to come off. Remember? Romantic naked times.”
Steve laughed, kissing him before rolling to the side and pushing his shorts off, Bucky doing the same with his briefs. He then straddled Steve, kissing his neck and moaning as Steve threaded his hands through his hair. “I like this,” Steve said, his breathe hitching as Bucky bit on his collarbone. “I think there—we have to—uh—“
“I have to get on my hands and knees?” Bucky teased, grinding their hips together. “Where is the lube?”
“Bedside drawer.”
“How old school,” Bucky replied, grabbing it and putting it in Steve’s hand. “Be gentle,” he joked, rolling off of Steve and onto his elbows and knees. He wiggled his ass around.
Steve rubbed his lower back as he teased Bucky’s hole with his finger, rubbing in small circles. Bucky leaned into the touch, turning his head so he could try to see what was going on before giving up. Steve continued to kiss down his tailbone, finally slipping his finger in. He waited a moment before finally Bucky rocked his hips back, muttering, “That was a joke,” and moving it slightly. He crooked it, before going back to moving in and out. “Another,” Bucky demanded.
Steve continued to kiss the small of his back as he added another finger, crooking them both with each stroke before hitting that spot that made Bucky keen, burying his head in the pillow. He finally added another finger, filling him up and Bucky needed this to stop, he needed Steve in him. “Please,” he pleaded.
Steve kissed him one last time before pulling his fingers out, crawling towards the drawer and Bucky rolled over, opening his legs and pumping his cock slowly. He watched as Steve rolled on the condom and crawled on top of him. Bucky hitched his legs over Steve’s hips, crossing his ankles as Steve kissed him slowly. He pulled away when he felt Steve’s cock in him, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and grabbing at Steve’s shoulders. “We can stop,” Steve whispered into his ear, already starting to pull out. “It’s okay.”
“Don’t you dare Steve Rogers,” Bucky said quickly, burying his hand in Steve’s hair and kissing him. He rolled his hips slightly and they both moaned, Steve finally beginning to build a rhythm. Bucky broke away and bit Steve’s shoulder, feeling his hips stutter slightly. “Faster, please.” Steve obliged, grabbing Bucky’s hips and fucking into him in earnest, moaning as Bucky met his thrusts.
Bucky’s own cock was between them, untouched except for the friction between their bodies. He reached a hand between them and Steve grabbed it, pinning it above his head and kissing him as he slammed into him, making Bucky whimper. His release was so close, he could feel it, Steve was hitting the right button and relentlessly and if he would just touch his cock he would be done.
“Not yet,” Steve said, kissing below his ear. “I want you to come just from this. I want you to come from me fucking you.”
That was it - he came, coating both of their stomachs and holding on to Steve desperately as he thrust into him a few more times before moaning raggedly, and collapsing on him.
Steve pulled out slowly and rolled beside Bucky, pulling him close and kissing his head. “Shit,” Bucky said finally, looking up at Steve. “We could have been doing that back in Brooklyn.”
“I couldn’t have picked you up.”
“But you could have fucked me,” Bucky replied, kissing Steve’s chest. “You could have done anything, I was pretty in love with you, Steve.”
“I love you too,” Steve replied.
“So much you had to make a damn phone call instead of sending a text?” Bucky asked.
“I was flustered!”
Bucky opened his mouth to protest but Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, moving them slowly. He sighed contently before asking, “How about we turn all phones off and stay in bed for the day?”
Steve kissed him, sharing Bucky’s smile. “Deal.”