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“Come on, keep it up. That’s it. I could do this all day!”
Steve does a few more reps with the dumbbell he’s holding before setting it down gently. “You can do better than that,” he encourages his class. He sets out around the perimeter of the room to check form as the class lifts to the beat of the music. He deliberately circles around to the back and stays there for a while, pretending to be watching a group of girls carefully. In reality, he’s stealing glances at the dark form in the corner, a man with long dark hair who’s lifting more weight than half of the people there combined. And that with only one arm, as his other is a prosthetic. The Winter Soldier, he and Nat call him. He comes every week, and Steve always hopes he’ll keep coming.
Steve normally avoids looking at the man because he doesn't want to stare. Polite person that he is, the last thing he wants is to make him uncomfortable. It's not just that though, the man puts out a vibe like he doesn't want people to talk to him. His eyes are always downcast, dark hair hanging down to cover their clear blue gaze.
But Steve can't help but look when he thinks the man won't notice. He's looked long enough to see that his jaw is clenched more often than not and that the lines around his eyes are the saddest he’s ever seen. But he doesn't talk to him—because even though his hunched shoulders and furrowed brow make Steve want to take him in his arms and hold him he knows that the man just wants to be left alone.
Still, it must be lonely, he thinks. Steve hates to be lonely. He may have taken advantage of some modern ideas, but his heart was as old fashioned as they come. It couldn't help but ache at old romantic movies or skip a beat when he saw a marriage proposal. He wanted it for himself and he knew that couldn't be wrong.
Steve shakes himself out of his reverie and finishes making his rounds. But he just can’t stop looking at the man in the corner. Throughout the rest of the class he stares and stares. That is, until the man starts staring back. Steve’s embarrassed to have been caught looking, but he knows better than to look away. “I’m just admiring you,” he tries to say with his eyes. “I think you’re cute,” he insists with the curve of his smile. To his relief, the man soon smiles back. And it’s not a timid smile either; it dazzles Steve, who thinks that it must be the most genuine smile he’s ever received. He doesn’t want to look away, but he does when he remembers he’s supposed to be working.
“Let’s go team,” Steve shouts into his headset. “Last set and then you’re done.” Steve doesn’t know how he gets through the last few minutes of class. It’s all a daze until suddenly the music has stopped. Steve cheers the class good-naturedly. “See you next week,” he says, glancing at the man with the beautiful smile.
Just then a redhead steps through the door. “Hey Cap, Nick wants to check in with you before you leave today. Just passing on the message.”
“Thanks Nat.” He nods as the redhead retreats around the corner. Steve figures he better get a move on and quickly stows his headset in the shelving by the door for the next teacher to pick up. But something in the corner of his eye stops him in his tracks. The mysterious Winter Soldier is walking right towards him. Steve expects him to head past him out the door, but instead he stops just short.
“Cap, huh?”
Steve’s a little taken aback at the man’s sudden forwardness, but he’s eager to answer the question all the same. “That’s just Nat. She calls me that because of my time in the army, always has.”
The man flashes a smile to rival the one from earlier. “A soldier then. I see we’re somewhat alike. But you probably already figured that.” He gestures almost sheepishly toward his prosthetic arm with his good one.
“Well, yes,” Steve says. And then he gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. Before he has time to think it through, he spits out “but not because of that. It's more of everything else. It's your eyes. The way they're deep and sad. The way you look at people like you wish you were invisible. The way you stack your weights all around you like walls so that no one steps too close.”
Steve, realizing his mistake much too late, tries to think of anything he could say to distract from the fact that he has just admitted how much he has been watching this man, thinking about him. He doesn't succeed. Instead he blurts out “actually, Nat and I, we call you the Winter Soldier.”
The man sort of flinches at the name and Steve tries to save the conversation. “I like nicknames,” he says, furrowing his brow. “I never caught your real name, so...”
As Steve trails off uncomfortably, the man looks up with a strange glint in his eye. “It's James,” he says firmly. “James Buchanan Barnes.” And then he takes a deep breath and boldly continues. “But if you like nicknames, you can call me Bucky.”
“Bucky,” Steve repeats aloud, feeling the name out on his tongue. He smiles. “Alright,” he says, a little surprised to note that his voice has lowered to a husk. He takes a chance and looks straight into Bucky's eyes, staring openly for the first time since the day Bucky walked into his class.
Just then, someone bumps into Steve’s elbow. Steve starts a little and the contact is broken. Steve should be used to that; it's not uncommon for people to knock into him, since he fills the doorway easily. And looking around hurriedly Steve realizes it's not surprising either, as the next class is currently on its way through the door.
Steve hurries out of the way, stepping closer to Bucky as he does. He gets a momentary rush of what feels like electricity before Bucky widens the distance again, nearly just as fast. Steve’s gaze follows Bucky's magnetic form back to the weights he's left lying on the floor and he stares furtively for a while, as is his habit with Bucky, before realizing that he should be helping.
“Let me help you with that,” he says, flashing what he hopes is a winning smile. Bucky seems to be embarrassed and Steve realizes he's just crossed one of Bucky's many lines. Steve knows he has to take the heat off somehow. The smile fades but is quickly replaced with a look that is at once playful and stern—Steve’s specialty. “You don't have to say yes, but I warn you, I'm going to do it anyway. I didn't get enough of a workout just walking around checking people's form.”
Steve bends and grabs some weights before turning his back on Bucky. As he walks away, ears trained, willing Bucky to follow, he hears that soft dark voice behind him.
“No, you don't get much of a workout just looking.”
Steve is so surprised he almost drops a weight right there. Is his winter soldier flirting with him? He takes a second to frantically consider as he puts the weights in their place inside the closet. When he turns, Bucky has almost overtaken him. Steve sucks in a breath and then he goes for it. “You know, you have very good form. Excellent, even.”
“Well,” Bucky replies with a conspiratorial glance, “I'm very good at taking orders.” At that, he turns and steps out of the closet doorway. But he's leaning in such a way that Steve can tell he doesn't really want to walk away.
This is definitely flirting.
Steve is frozen for a moment before he suddenly hops forward, eager to catch Bucky before he leaves. “Why don't we go somewhere?” he half-yells after Bucky's dark and muscular form.
Bucky laughs, and it's the most welcoming sound Steve has ever heard. Almost familiar.
“I'd like to shower first,” Bucky replies. “But you can pick me up at 6. The building just across the street. Apartment nine.”
And with that, he's gone. It takes everything Steve’s got not to follow him, but he tells himself not to push his luck. After all, how could he get any luckier than this?
At 5:58 Steve gets out of his car and smooths his jacket. He's picked something casual but nice—a light blue shirt that stretches perfectly across his chest and arms and a dark blue blazer to make the outfit look nicer. He knocks on the door firmly and, he worries, much too loudly. His hand has barely dropped to his side when the door opens. Bucky stands there in his usual black and gray, somehow even more stunning than usual.
After an exchange of quiet hellos and wide, nervous smiles, the couple heads out. Steve leads Bucky to his car, a navy VW bug. It's old and a little rusty, but Bucky gives a small nod of what just might be appreciation when Steve glances his way.
They go to dinner at a place that’s nice but comfortable and then to a carnival, where they buy hotdogs and popcorn and Bucky wastes an inordinate amount of time trying to win a stuffed bear. Bucky insists that the bear is “unbearably” cute, but Steve suspects that he just doesn’t want to leave. He feels the same. Steve reaches for Bucky's hand when they're on the Ferris wheel and Bucky doesn't pull away. Steve is so pleased that he looks up into Bucky's blue eyes, intending to say how glad he is to be there. He stops short when he sees how Bucky's eyes are shining, looking straight at him with something gloriously like adoration. Steve eventually manages to speak again, but it's not until they're back at Bucky's place, lingering on the doorstep.
“I had a fine time tonight,” Steve says at last. “Better. It was...” He trails off, unable to quite articulate what Bucky already means to him.
“I know,” Bucky replies. “I feel like I know you.” There’s an intense vulnerability in the way he says it, but also a clear certainty. Just like that, there is no more distance between them.
They talk for hours as they watch the moon rise from their places side by side on the doorstep. About shared memories of the war; about growing up poor in Brooklyn, which was another thing they shared. About being alone. About feeling different, and being hurt. And Steve knows from that moment on, no one will come between him and Bucky. He will never let anyone hurt Bucky again.
Eventually they go inside to try some of Bucky’s foreign chocolate bars. Soon the sun rises in the clear grey sky but they don't notice. And while they’re not noticing they watch each other and smile and talk and laugh like old friends. As the sky turns the same blue as Bucky's eyes, the two wordlessly crawl into his cramped dark bed. They share their first kiss just as they hear an alarm go off in the apartment above them. Bucky draws away reluctantly to ask whether Steve might want to go to sleep instead.
“Not a chance,” Steve intones huskily as he pushes himself onto his hands and swings his leg over Bucky's hip. He places his hand just under Bucky’s shirt as he leans in to press his lips against his neck. “I could do this all day.”