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Steve Rogers was a little known, but widely used, illustrator. People saw his work all the time – covers of romance novels, with busty women swooning in the arms of muscular men, or the children’s books with the colourful yellow ducklings and trees with happy faces, maybe even the occasional comic strip in a newspaper. He drew things like clip-art and advertisements, and his work was all over the world. Not work he was proud of, exactly, but it paid the bills and he got to work from home – so despite his poor health, he was able to keep a steady flow of income.
He was small, sickly and prone to catch any form of flu, cold, bug or infection going around. A trip to the store would sap his energy faster than he’d have liked, but he managed. He managed his quiet life quite well, keeping his head above the water and although he didn’t take much pride in his work, he did enjoy it.
That was, of course, until He moved in to the apartment next door.
He was the opposite of Steve in every way. He was tall where Steve was short, muscular while Steve was small, soft dark hair to Steve’s straw-like blond. He was easy smiles and a quick laugh where Steve had a semi-permanent frown and a wheeze. Attractive where Steve was unremarkable - to the point that he’d been overlooked completely throughout his life to the extreme extent that people sometimes sat on him because they just didn’t register his existence.
Steve had never spoken to him, just saw him sometimes when Steve would watch him go for a run in the morning, or maybe he’d check through the peephole in the door and see him walk past to get to his own apartment. Steve wasn’t proud that he’d spied on his neighbour, but he’d done it all the same.
But worse than all of that, was the fact that he was loud.
Loud laugh that Steve could easily hear through the thin walls, a laugh that was warm and comforting and all the things that made Steve ache inside his quiet apartment. Loud friends that came over almost every day and made noise and played music and reminded Steve that his only visitor in the last year had been his agent, almost 4 months previous. Loud hobbies, where he played some kind of computer game with loud explosions and had him shouting at people online in a good natured way – reminding Steve that his hobbies were non-existent.
But worse than all of that – he had a loud personal life. Every single night, without fail, his headboard would start knocking through to Steve’s apartment. Not always at the same time, and not always for a long time, but every night. Steve wasn’t sure if he had a girlfriend or just hooked up a lot – there was a redheaded woman who was over a lot, and sometimes Steve could hear them really going at it, grunts and moans and the headboard keeping an irregular rhythm. Sometimes the grunts would be male, a blond guy with messy hair and muscular arms would show up and Steve knew that before he left Steve would have to put his headphones on to mask the noises.
All of this had the result of reminding Steve that the condoms in his bedside drawer had a layer of dust over them, and the last time he’d so much as kissed a person had been well over three years ago when Peggy went back to London to pursue her career. He didn’t think that was a bad thing, she was happy and they kept in touch – emails and letters, but his next door neighbour seemed to make it his lifework to remind Steve that his life was… well… empty.
To make Steve even more upset, was the fact that he knew his next door neighbour wasn’t doing these things on purpose. He didn’t wake up every day with the goal of being obnoxiously loud to make Steve’s life a little worse. Steve could tell he was actually a good natured man, who just had a lot of friends and a healthy, normal sex life.
Steve was sitting at his desk, paper strewn around him as he worked, reading the description that the agency wanted on the cover of yet another trashy romance. They liked Steve’s work – used him a lot for this particular style of book – and always paid well. They also sent him a copy of the book when it hit the shelves, which meant that his bookshelf was made up of a fairly eclectic mix of titles ranging from ‘Fluffy Ducky On The Farm’ to ‘His Runaway Mistress’ and ‘Teen Vampire High’. The novel he’d been sent was firmly in the ‘heaving bosoms’ and ‘ripped bodices’ section of the bookstore and Steve was struggling to find his enthusiasm after getting over yet another bout of flu.
Of course, because he worked from home and didn’t really need to work to any kind of set time as long as he completed his work, it was around midnight. A forgotten mug of coffee lay beside him and he wondered if he should add in a few more details to the background or just leave it, when the first ‘thump’ from the apartment next door filled the room.
The thing was: Steve didn’t begrudge the guy a good sex life. It wasn’t exactly keeping Steve awake at night because he wasn’t asleep when He would start making noise. At worst it was a minor inconvenience in his life, and Steve might not have been a big guy, but he was a big enough guy to realise that this noise wasn’t that much of a deal. It just annoyed him.
So, rather than be an asshole and kill the mood in the other apartment by hammering on the wall (probably with a shoe or something because he really doubted his fist would make enough noise to be heard) and yelling for some peace, he picked up his headphones and slipped them on over his ears.
The sounds of Jimmy Dorsey filled his ears, smooth and easy, and Steve completely forgot all about his attractive neighbour and his possibly amazing sex life for a few hours. Well, his romance novel lothario may have ended up looking a little familiar in the face, but Steve was pretty sure no one was ever going to notice that.
Living in a communal building meant that once or twice a year, someone would set off the fire alarm and Steve would have to stand outside for an hour or two while the building was checked. More often than not, it happened at the worst possible time – like when Steve was in the shower, or sound asleep, meaning that he’d be standing outside in a towel or his pyjamas and would be at a serious risk of freezing to death.
However, luck would have it that he was standing in his kitchen making himself a fresh cup of camomile tea to try to help him sleep, idly aware of the rhythmic ‘thud pause thud thud’ from the other apartment, when the alarm blazed. He was still wearing his clothes, a pair of old jeans and a white tee-shirt, thick woollen socks (bad circulation, his feet were always cold) and his hoodie was within arm’s reach. He didn’t panic, just grabbed his hoodie, poured his tea into a travel mug and slipped on his shoes by the door. He knew the drill, so he didn’t lock his door and he didn’t use the elevator, and let the mass of people move around him as they got out of the building.
The air was crisp, not cold really, but enough for Steve to be thankful for his layers – he couldn’t risk yet another cold after just getting over the flu. He got it every year, and every year he was sure he was going to end up back in the hospital like he’d done when he’d been younger. Better medication was the only reason he’d avoided it this time.
Around him, people were in various stages of undress. Harassed looking parents in housecoats holding onezie wearing children off the ground, the student who may have just gotten home, still dressed for a party, some guys wearing sleep wear that could have passed for suits in bad lighting, some people just in shorts and shoes, hastily pulled on at the door, a coat over their shoulders.
And, of course, Him.
He was wearing a pair of old shorts with dark patches where he’d obviously been sweating – skin gold and damp and almost steaming in the cold air. Around him he was getting appreciative looks from the other tenants, not just Steve (thank god) and he was talking to an attractive woman with blond hair and a silky red negligée that really wasn’t standing up to the cold. Steve thought he recognised her, but he couldn’t be sure. She was getting some warm looks too, but Steve really couldn’t take his eyes off of all of the warm, bare skin on display. Seriously, he was steaming. It reminded Steve a little of a racehorse after a run. What kind of sex was this guy having to get him quite so… damn.
After a few minutes talking to him, throwing her long hair over her shoulders and smiling, the blond woman moved over to talk to the building ‘super, who was more than happy to talk to her. He looked around a bit, and spied the section of wall that Steve had perched himself on, sipping his tea.
“Hey.” He said, walking towards Steve and hopping up on the wall like it was nothing. It probably was nothing – Steve had to half climb the damn thing to get seated. His voice was nice, warm and welcoming, just like his smile. Steve found himself smiling in return.
“Hi.” He managed, and his voice was rusty – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually spoken to another person.
“Hellish, huh?” He smiled, and held out his hand for Steve to shake. “Bucky Barnes. I live in 510.”
Steve almost bit his tongue in half to stop himself from saying, “I know.” So he smiled, shook the hand that was offered and tried to act like a normal person.
“Steve Rogers, I um, live next door in 511?”
Bucky’s smile widened and his teeth were white and his mouth was perfect and Steve was trying not to look down at the muscular chest, the perfect abs.
“Aww, that’s so cool.” Bucky replied, “I didn’t even realise that anyone lived in the place next to mine. I keep forgetting cause I’ve got the elevator on one side, you know?” He smiled again, and looked out over the people milling around. “This happen often?”
“More than you’d think.” Steve managed, because once he’d actually had conversations with people and somewhere in his brain he remembered how to not act like a freak. “Normally when I’m in the shower though.” He said, and was rewarded with a warm laugh that he already knew so well. It was different though, in person. Sounded better, deeper, more alive than a disembodied noise through a wall.
“Man, I thought I was bad – but that sucks.” He snorted a laugh and grinned at Steve, which had the effect of warming faster than his tea ever could.
“I dunno.” Steve shrugged, risking a quick glance up and down Buckys body, trying not to linger. “I’m not the one sweating like a racehorse right now.”
“What can I say?” Bucky said, humour in his voice. “I’m an athletic guy.”
Steve didn’t doubt that for a moment. He knew exactly how much sex Bucky had – how much sex he’d been having, before the fire alarm interrupted him. Weirdly though, he didn’t seem too upset by the fact that he’d been caught out half way through what was obviously an incredibly energetic session with a lovely looking woman. “I tell you what though, you ever need anything done in your place, just let me know – I know my way around a toolbox.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, taking a sip of his cooling tea before he made some really inappropriate ‘I bet you do’ double-entendre and died of embarrassment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Bucky kept up a steady flow of conversation until the attractive blond swayed over and told him (Steve would say she told them both, but she completely ignored him even though he said ‘Hello’ politely) that the super was going to let them back into the building.
“Um,” Steve said, as he scrambled down the wall, people already making their way inside. “I was just wondering…”
“Yeah?” Bucky asked, turning and facing Steve, and just for a second, Steve wondered if he was deliberately flexing a little as he stood, but he pushed that thought out of his mind as quickly as it came.
“Could you maybe just pull your bed a little form the wall?” Steve asked, quickly. “It’s just sometimes the headboard bangs.” He couldn’t quite place the look that flashed over Bucky’s face, and he felt his own cheeks heat up. “You don’t have to, I mean, it’s just-”
“No, it’s cool.” Bucky grinned, touching Steve’s shoulder. “Like, I’ll do it right away.”
And that was how Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes.
The thumping didn’t stop. Steve didn’t doubt that Bucky kept his word and moved the bed – in fact, he actually heard the scraping of the bed over the floors almost as soon as he got back into his apartment. But that didn’t mean that the banging stopped. Well, Steve thought, if he was super attractive and had a body like that – Steve would be banging his headboard at all times of the night too.
The knock on his door was completely unexpected. Steve had been drawing at his desk, and he could no longer hear Bucky and his friends laughing and watching some movie in the apartment next door. It took him a few moments to get to his feet after sitting in the same position all day, and he shuffled along the floor, thick socks on his feet.
When he opened the door, he was almost floored by seeing Bucky standing there, leaning against the frame. “Oh, hey Steve.” He said, like this was something that happened every day. His smile though, warmed Steve right through to his bones.
“Um…” He said before clearing his throat. “Hi.” He tried, smiling back.
“I’m gonna be like, really obvious and ask if you have any sugar.” He said, grinning.
“Oh.” Steve said, feeling a little unsure why that would be obvious at all – it seemed really quite random. “Um, yeah, I’ve got some.” He said, beckoning Bucky to come in. “I’ve got powdered or granulated.” He didn’t miss the disappointment on Bucky’s face, although the other man was quick to hide it. “I might have some Muscovado in the back of the cupboard?” He hedged, unsure what he could have done wrong.
“What? No, um, granulated will be fine.” Bucky said, smile back firmly in place. “Clint used the last of mine in his coffee.”
“Ah, okay.” Steve nodded, and made his way into the kitchen. He’d expected Bucky to follow him, but when he turned around, after finding the jar, Bucky wasn’t in the kitchen.
He was standing in the livingroom looking at Steve’s bookshelf.
Oh, god.
His bookshelf.
“The Secretary and the man of Iron.” He read out. “The Widow and the Archer.” He glanced over at Steve who knew he’d be the colour of a tomato and laughed. “Oh, I like this one: Winter Hearted Soldier.” He pulled the book out, flipped open to a random page, and didn’t even glance at the cover. Not many people did, Steve knew. “He stared at her with a firey intensity that made her ache deep within, a place no man had ever known.” He paused. “So, like, she’s a lesbian?”
“I think she’s supposed to be a virgin.” Steve said, unsure why he wasn’t just ripping the book out of Bucky’s hands.
“Oh.” Bucky said, and read on for a few more sentences. “It’s not really my thing.” He said, closing the book and looking a little sheepish. “You’ve got some... interesting stuff here.”
Steve, standing in his own livingroom, felt something stir in his chest. “Really?” He questioned, glancing over like he had no possible idea what Bucky was talking about. The shelves were packed with books, most of them unopened and unread (he did read ‘High School for Zombies’ and had kind of enjoyed it) sent from the publisher. He even managed to inject a hint of dryness into his tone.
“I mean, yeah, it’s cool and everything.” Bucky hurried. “Just different. You know um, a wide range of stuff.”
“You should read ‘Fluffy Ducky Meets Silly Goosey’ it’s a classic.” Steve said, seriously. “A truly inspiring tale of friendship and personal growth.”
Bucky looked slightly horrified for a few seconds, and then he laughed. “You’re pullin’ my leg.” He said, rolling his eyes when Steve smirked. “Shit, for a second there I thought I was livin’ next door to a... hell... I don’t even know what, but it wasn’t good!”
“I do the artwork for the books. The publishers always send a copy.” Steve said, grinning as Bucky pulled out another book, this time paying way more attention to the cover.
“This is really good.” He said, looking closely at the art. “You did all these?”
“Yeah,” Steve shrugged. “It’s not actually a big deal, mostly it pays the bills.”
“You really had me going for a minute there.” Bucky admitted, a big grin on his face. “Turns out your just a little shit.”
Steve grinned back and held out the jar of sugar. “Yeah, it’s a character flaw.”
Bucky looked at the sugar for a few seconds and then back at Steve. “Um... okay?”
“You needed sugar?”
“Wha Oh, yeah, I – yeah. Sugar.” Bucky said, nodding. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Steve said, and followed Bucky to the door.
“I’ll bring it back when I’m done.” He said, and Steve nodded.
And that was the second time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes.
Three days later, Steve was trying to sleep. He was even trying to sleep at a normal time – it was 3am for crying out loud – and he’d been trying to sleep for hours. He’d just hit that sweet spot where your aware enough to know you’re not asleep but all you need to do is drift a little further and…
Thu-thump.
It jolted him right out of his comfortable space and he glared at the roof. He’s spent the whole day fighting with inanimate objects – his coffee machine wasn’t heating the water right, his garbage disposal needed the super to look at it, his laptop wasn’t connecting to his wifi and now this.
Tha-Thump.
Steve rolled out of bed and glared at the wall, temper flaring. “Right.” He snapped, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor as he stomped through his apartment. He threw his door open and marched to Buckys door – and knocked three times, as hard as he could.
It didn’t take long for Bucky to answer, and he was wearing those shorts again, the one’s he’d worn when the fire alarm had gone off – and nothing else. Obviously he was sweating, his neatly cut hair not in the side part Steve normally saw him sporting, but sticking up at all angles like he’d had someone’s hands running through it all night. He looked surprised to see Steve (no wonder) but smiled widely.
“Heya Steve.” He grinned, leaning against the door he was holding open. “You needing some sugar?” and then, for some unknown reason, the asshole smirked. “I wondered how long it was gonna take you to realise that I was-”
“Move.” Steve snapped. “Your. God. Damn. Bed. Away.” He pointed a bony finger at Bucky’s utterly confused face. “From. The. Fucking. Wall.” He glared. “I get that you’re having a good time and all, but some people are trying to sleep!”
“Huh?” He replied, looking confused and a bit hurt, and he stopped leaning against the door to run his fingers through his hair. “I did move my bed.”
“Move it further.” Steve snapped.
“It’s in the middle of the floor.” Bucky replied, sounding a little pissed, and a lot confused. “Not that it’s any of your business, by the way.”
Steve wanted to punch him, he really did. Bucky was the last straw on a shitty day and Steve was so done with everything that he didn’t care he was fighting with his next door neighbour at 3am, standing in his pj bottoms in the middle of the hallway. His feet were already numb, and his hands were shaking with rage.
“It becomes my business when I can’t sleep because you’re jackrabbiting some hook-up through the mattress and the headboard is banging loud enough to wake the fucking dead!”
Bucky was looking at him like he’d lost his damn mind (which was possibly true) and replied. “I’m not in bed.”
Steve laughed. “Seriously, I don’t care if you’re fucking them through the wall – just do it against any other wall. I’m trying to sleep.” And then, anger pitching and threatening to make him start throwing punches, he stormed back through to his own apartment, slamming the door so hard that the picture frame on the wall fell and smashed. Typical.
And that was the third time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes.
The very next day, at 10am, Steve was sitting at his desk, feeling terrible that he had shouted at Bucky. He should have just sucked it up and talked to him like a civilised human being. Shouting at someone in the middle of the night was a terrible thing to do, especially since he obviously had someone over.
So, he’d made some apology cookies. He spent a lot of his time watching bad TV and through the years he’d watched more cooking shows than any one person should. He enjoyed cooking, although he never ate much before feeling uncomfortably full, and he’d been told that his cookies were ‘the good stuff’ by a few people. He knew Bucky was home, because he could hear the TV, and some talking. He assumed it was on the phone because everything was much quieter than normal.
He’d taken great care with his appearance, his dark jeans were pressed and a crisp blue shirt brought out his eyes. He’d even taken the time to try to style his hair, although he wasn’t sure if any of that would make a difference. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the plate stacked high with cookies, and knocked three times on Bucky’s door.
Only, when the door swung open, it wasn’t Bucky.
She was taller than Steve, maybe only by an inch, but still – her red hair curling slightly atop her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing make-up but she really didn’t need to, her skin was flawless. When she saw Steve she blinked once before giving him a dangerous smile. “Hello.” She said, and her voice was… amused.
Obviously, Steve had interrupted her evening with Bucky and now she was laughing at him.
“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night.” He said, blushing at her knowing look. “It wasn’t appropriate and I wanted to say I was sorry.” He paused, and tried not to shuffle his feet like a schoolboy. “So, I’m sorry.”
“You might want to say that to him.” She said, nodding her head deeper into the apartment.
Steve tried not to frown. “I think both of you deserve one.” He pointed out. “Because I interrupted.”
“Interrupted?” She asked, and then laughed when Steve felt his face flush harder. “Oh, I see.” She smirked. “Come on in, I want to watch this.”
Steve hovered at the doorway, unsure, before she turned and looked at him pointedly. “Well?” She asked, and Steve’s feet started moving of their own volition, following her.
Bucky was sitting on his couch, wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, sitting beside the blond man that Steve has seen a few times. Oh god, he’d interrupted an orgy the night before. It took a few moments for Bucky to notice him, as he was focused completely on the biggest TV screen Steve had ever seen, but when he did, he started, and paled. He was wearing an oversized headset with a mic, and when he pulled it off, the blond beside him shouted “What the fuck man!” before Bucky kicked him. The other man turned, and pulled off his own headset, and looked Steve up and down. “Are those cookies?” He asked, and Steve nodded. “I like him. He can stay.”
“I just wanted to say sorry for last night.” Steve rushed, handing over the plate of cookies to the blond man, who grinned and made a ‘ooooh’ noise before stuffing one into his mouth and asking: “What happened last night? Hey, these are good!”
“It was out of line, and I’m sorry for interrupting, and it won’t happen again.” Steve said, “I made those to apologise.”
“Yeah, these are mine.” The blond man said, clutching the plate to his chest. “Go make him some more.”
“Steve seems to think he interrupted us having sex last night.” The red-headed woman said, and the blond choked on his 3rd cookie.
“And I just wanted to apologise.” He added, quickly. “I had a really bad day and it’s not fair that I took it out on you.”
“I’m not sleeping with Natasha.” Bucky said, after a few seconds, and then down at his clothes. “Shit.” He said, standing up. “Give me like, 5 minutes.” He said, and dove out of the room and into the smaller bedroom at the back of the apartment.
“So, Steve.” The redhead smirked. “Bucky tells us you’re an artist?”
“And crazy hot.”
“Shut up, Clint.” She shot back, eyes not leaving Steve. He felt a little like a bug under a magnifying glass. “An artist. Who apparently bakes.”
“Um, yes?” Steve hedged, wondering why they were so interested and… wait… “He said I was hot?”
“Crazy hot.” The blond agreed.
“Got a girlfriend?” The redhead asked, leaning against the sofa and grabbing a cookie from the plate.
“No?”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Do you want one?”
Steve was saved from replying by Bucky coming back through. His ratty sweats and hoodie had been replaced by a pair of jeans and a moss green shirt. “Ignore her.” He said, and glared at the blond man who wolf whistled at him. “She delights in playing matchmaker.”
“It’s about time you got laid.” She told him, rolling her eyes, and Steve was completely lost.
“Fuck, Nat, shut up!” Bucky glared, and beckoned for Steve to follow him. “Come on, I think maybe we need to sort some things out.”
“Like the sexual tension.” The blond man said, and Bucky punched him as he passed, walking into the bedroom. Steve stalled, looking around, but since the only other people in the room were now watching him with expectant faces, he followed Bucky.
The bedroom wasn’t a bedroom.
There was a punch bag, a treadmill, another machine Steve has seen at the gym but didn’t know the name of, and weights. One wall was a complete mirror, and three was a video recorder set up in the corner.
“Oh.” Steve said, looking around. “Oh, no.”
Bucky wasn’t having wild, energetic sex every night.
He was working out. The Thud-thud was the punch bag. “This is my bedroom.” He told Bucky, who look confused for a second before looking at the wall between their apartments. “I thought the noise was your headboard.”
Bucky was silent for a second and then: “How much sex did you think I was having?” Before he burst into laughter.
Bucky made money by doing workout videos online. He was a ‘virtual expert’ for a large gym and spent a lot of time answering stupid questions people typed into the ‘help’ section.
“I talk to them in real time, and if they’re really fucking stupid I sometimes have to do like, a video tutorial for them.” He said, as they ate. Steve had insisted on making an ‘I’m really sorry I jumped to conclusions’ dinner, and Bucky had brought a bottle of wine. They’d both obviously put a lot of effort into their personal appearance and Steve was pretty sure that this could be a date. “It’s not bad money, but obviously I keep weird hours, cause I get a ping whenever someone asks a question, and it’s easier for me to do the videos at night because there is less traffic noise.” He looked sheepishly at Steve. “Obviously, I wasn’t thinking that you might be able to hear me.”
“Honestly,” Steve blushed. “It’s not normally something that bothers me – I keep weird hours too – it’s just I had a really, really bad day yesterday.”
Bucky nodded. “Maybe it’s been better today?” He said, knocking his knee against Steve’s, and when Steve made no move, to just press against him.
“Maybe.” Steve agreed.
And that was the fourth time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes.
The 7th time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes they went to the zoo. Steve like the bear cubs and Bucky bought him a stuffed toy of one. He called it a ‘Bucky Bear’ and told Steve that he should sleep with it to protect him from bad dreams. Steve bought Bucky dinner at an Italian place he liked and they split desert. Bucky held his hand under the table and kissed him at the door.
The 13th time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes they were supposed to go to an open air concert in the park, but Steve caught a headcold so couldn’t go. He’d been pretty upset about it, Bucky had bought the tickets – they had a blanket and everything.
He’d been sitting on his couch feeling spectacularly sorry for himself when Bucky had shown up at the door – a picnic basket under his arm and his laptop.
He’d set up the blanket on the floor, opened the laptop and grinned. “I gave the tickets to Clint and ‘Tash.” He told Steve, grinning as he popped a strawberry in a glass of sparkling grape juice (because Steve’s medication meant no booze) and handed it over. “He’s got his laptop too.”
Clint and Natasha Skyped the concert directly to Steve’s living room, with the lights low and Bucky’s arm around his shoulder, Steve couldn’t have had a better night.
The 34th time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes, Steve took him to Coney Island and they walked hand in hand along the board-walk, trading stories of their childhood visits to the famous site. Steve was almost sick on the ‘coaster, and Bucky kissed him when they hit the top of the Ferris Wheel.
The 142nd time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes, Bucky helped Steve carry his stuff through to Bucky’s slightly larger apartment. They moved Bucky’s gym equipment through to the smaller room so they could share the large bedroom, and set Steve’s desk up near the window. Clint and Natasha helped Bucky move the heavy items of furniture and Steve made them all dinner to thank them. Clint took a Tupperware container full of cookies back to his place and told Bucky he was onto a winner.
The 368th time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes, Steve got down on one knee in the middle of central park and held up a plain gold band. His stomach was in knots and his heart was hammering too fast. Once Bucky had finished kissing him, Steve needed to use his inhaler, but he couldn’t think of that day as anything but perfect.
The 479th time was the last time Steve Rogers met Bucky Barnes. It was also the first time Steve Barnes met Bucky Barnes.
The 1st time Rebecca Gail Barnes met Steve and Bucky Barnes, she cried most of the day – her chubby baby fingers wrapping around her father’s thumb, and wrapping both men around her little finger at the same time. The social worker smiled at their besotted expressions and shut the door quietly as she left the three of them.