Archive of Our Own

Right as Steve strolled in with a three-quarters cup full of coffee, crying and screaming echoed the halls. What a way to start his shift. The emergency department always turned into full-fledged chaos by nightfall. Sometimes Steve wished he worked mornings instead of nights, though never knowing what could come through those double doors would keep him on his toes. 

With the first chart of the night in hand— after dodging hallway traffic of speeding gurneys— Steve noted the details as he walked past the short corridor.

James Barnes, twenty-eight. Fractured arm from a fall. The patient was given a general anesthetic for the closed reduction procedure.

“Going anywhere in particular next weekend?” Natasha said, spooking Steve out his concentrated thoughts.

Always with the questions about his dating life. “No,” Steve replied, keeping in stride with her, shoulder to shoulder. He sipped his coffee. “Why?”

“Well,” Natasha began, stretching her arm across the expanse of the cracked door, blocking Steve from slipping past. Tucked between two fingers, Natasha waved a tiny piece of paper as if it was forbidden candy. “I’ve got someone on here who’d love to go out with you.”

“Natasha,” Steve sighed. Of all places to talk about his nonexistent dating life, it had to be here. She'd given him countless numbers in the past, but outside the hospital setting. Why the sudden change? Oh, probably to embarrass him in public. It wouldn't be far from the truth. 

“Come on, Steve. It’s been like a month since you got out.”

“You set me up two weeks ago and you know I don’t like going on blind dates.” Not that Steve needed a reminder of his last date, but going out with his high school crush’s cousin wasn’t something he expected. Neither of them had much chemistry anyway. How Sharon was able to get through dinner, Steve would never know. “Besides, I can get by on my own. And look, I’ve got Dodger to keep me company.”

Before Steve could stop her, Natasha tucked the folded piece of paper into his scrub pocket. “You and that dog. The location is picked out and everything so you wouldn't have to do anything but show up.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

He wouldn't.

"Good." Natasha tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to look back at her. “Oh, and,” she said, a single wink. “If that doesn’t pan out, the patient is pretty cute.”

“Seriously?” Steve scoffed. Yeah right. He knew better than to develop inappropriate feelings for a patient. He was a professional damn it, not to mention how extraordinary he was at his job. 

“Broaden your horizons, Rogers.” Natasha waved goodbye before disappearing into the crowd of staff.

Ignoring the folded piece of paper in his pocket, Steve settled back into his work headspace. He contemplated tossing it into the trash like every other list she'd given him, but someone could come around and dig it out. It would be wrong for it to fall into the wrong hands.     

He had a job to do, not dwell on his love life. Nursing was a respected profession and he’d be damned if he doesn’t do his job with the utmost care.

Persistent monitor beeps echoed in the small room. On the bed, Barnes’ injured arm was propped up by a pillow, a fiberglass cast covering up to his mid-bicep. He lay unconscious, his luxuriant shoulder length brown long hair tucked behind his ears. A handful of heart monitor pads were attached to his chest, and an IV was inserted into the back of his opposite hand with tubing leading up to an IV pole.

It went against Steve’s mental rule list but he had to admit, the dark blue blanket tucked at Barnes’ sides does compliment his features extremely well. 

With the task at hand, Steve began checking up on his patient. After making sure the IV bag was in good shape, he took a moment to fiddle with the monitor equipment. He then moved onto more day to day nursing tasks.  

Quiet mumbles, resembling a whine more than anything, came from the man’s partially chapped lips, frown lines forming between his eyebrows.

An uninjured soft yet large hand came flying out, only to come in contact with Steve’s forearm. Light, but a weak grip. Beneath cracked eyelids, crystal clear blue irises stared into Steve’s eyes. Steve could swear they resembled the same color as a clearwater lake. From the odd angle, Steve tried to twist himself back around but he was pulled down further instead, coming face to face with Barnes. Close enough to feel his warm breath on Steve's lips.

“Hey, easy there buddy, you’re alright.”

No words came out when he tried to speak, only a garbled shriek as his throat contracted, trying to find his voice.

Steve grabbed the water pitcher from the side table, pouring into a paper cup and lifting it to the man’s parted lips. “It’s okay, take all the time you need.”

It provided instant relief. “Where,” was all he could manage after a fresh drink of water, silent as a whisper.

“You’re in the emergency room at Shield Mercy. You just woke up after having your arm reset. We’re taking good care of you, Mr. Barnes, I promise,” Steve supplied, pausing for a moment to let the man take the new information in.

Blinking rapidly at Steve, he ran his tongue over his lips like out of a force of habit. If it weren’t for their current situation, Steve would consider the act to be downright adorable. A loose strand of hair stood out in a captivating way. It took every ounce of strength for Steve to hold himself back from brushing it aside.

“Bucky,” he said, quiet as a pin dropping. “I like to go by Bucky.”

“Bucky, huh?” As if the world was testing Steve, Bucky bit down on his soft pink lips, showing off his straight white teeth.

“Middle name. Buchanan,” Bucky supplied.

How does someone look so gorgeous after enduring an arm injury? Hell, who wakes up like Sleeping Beauty while on sedatives? It should be downright illegal. You would think he stepped right out of a makeup trailer from a movie set. Those cheekbones were sharp enough to kill a man. 

“Okay, Bucky,” Steve said, using the best of his ability to hide his ever-growing blush. “Let me grab the doctor real quick.”

Steve tried to pay no attention to the way Bucky looked at him; curious eyes tracking Steve’s every move. Steve poked his head out the door, immediately spotting Sam a little way down the hall. “Barnes is awake,” he said once Sam was within earshot.

Poking out from the cast, Bucky wiggled his fingers while running his tongue over his lips, again. “Why can’t I feel my arm?”

Back at his bedside, Steve pressed the up arrow button on the control panel, lifting it enough for Bucky to be in a sitting position. “That’s just the anesthesia wearing off," he said, ghosting a hand over Bucky's arm for reassurance. "Give it a few hours, okay?”

Across the bed, Sam lowered the guardrail before he began to perform a brief exam on Bucky’s arm. “Looking good there, Barnes.”

“Bucky,” Bucky and Steve corrected simultaneously.

“Oh, Bucky is it?” Sam said with a nod, patting Bucky’s lower leg. “Your arm looks good though, it just needed a little rest so you'll be good to go in no time. That cast can come off in about eight weeks but make sure to use a sleeve when showering, okay? Don’t want to get it wet.”

Bypassing Sam’s instructions, Bucky turned his head toward Steve, looking right at him with a face of pure joy.  “Nurse Rogers,” he began but got distracted by something else other than the laminated ID card clipped to Steve’s scrub top. “Oh, are those planets?”

Steve glanced down at himself. He hadn’t given it a passing thought at the time, he’d grabbed the first clean pair of scrubs he came to. Kids loved the intricate bright designs. Fish, boats, monkeys, cats, dogs, and in this case, space. In dark navy blue, this pair had all eight planets, little stars with smiley faces on them. Some adults would crack jokes at his choice of clothing, but Bucky taking an interest in them set off Steve’s heart immediately. Warm as a heated blanket, filling his chest with delight.

“They are.”

“You’ll be here overnight for observation,” Sam went on to say, though Bucky was still distracted by Steve’s scrubs. A little too distracted.

“You’re pretty as the milky way,” Bucky said to Steve, head tipped back and mouth parted slightly, tongue poking out. “So pretty, where’ve you been all my life?”

Cheeks red as a wagon, Steve blushed more than he ever had in his life. It wasn’t the first or last time someone flirted with him. Blame his hard earned muscles. His daily runs weren’t for nothing. Meanwhile, Sam was barely able to contain his laughter.

“Um.” Steve blew out a breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Bucky continued with his flirtatious pick-up lines as if he had them memorized by heart. He probably does for whatever reason. “Are those space pants? Because your ass is out of this world.”

A garbled shriek escaped Steve. He'd admit, he sucked at flirting. However, the opposite came easily. Practically everyone flirted with Steve. And most of the time, he wouldn’t realize if someone was flirting with him. But Bucky? It was clear as day.

Sam snickered, he always loved to watch Steve fumble with his words whenever patients were coming off the sedation. “I’ll leave you two alone then. Because I think you’ve got it covered from here, don’t you, Steve?”

Bucky was oblivious to the fact that Steve waved Sam off by silently mouthing a ‘really?’ at him. Only now, Steve was alone with his drop-dead gorgeous patient who wouldn’t stop flirting, not even for a second.

“I think you've got some stardust on your cheeks,” Bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Steve brought his hand up to rub at the fine hairs on his jaw. He was growing it out since it was about time for a change. “Oh, this? Thanks for noticing.”

Distracted once again, Bucky fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. “What happened to me?”

Steve pulled a guest chair over, a couple of feet away from the bed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bucky clicked his tongue; a finger pressed right beside his lips. “I was at a party with my friend. He has a dog...Lucky,” he paused for a moment to think. “She saw a cat and ran towards the road. I think I went after her?”

The note in the chart mentioned Bucky’s next of kin, Clint, had come by when Bucky first arrived a little over an hour or two ago. “Sort of, but the EMTs reported that you tripped and fell down a flight of stairs in the process.”

“Oh yeah, guess I panicked,” Bucky said but then a look of concern crossed over his face. “But is Lucky okay?”

Steve gave Bucky’s lower leg a small pat. “I’m not sure, but I hope so. Why don’t you get some rest for now? Maybe your friend will stop by and tell you.”

“Okay,” Bucky drew out the word slowly, sounding sleepy from the drugs he was loaded on.

Shuffling over to turn the fluorescent lights off, Steve came back over and turned the overhead bed light on. The blanket that once was above Bucky’s shoulders had slid down past his waist. Steve pulled it up, tucking Bucky back in.

Eyes closed, Bucky mumbled various amounts of non-eligible words. Though one slipped between a yawn. “Hotter than Venus.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he giggled all the way to the nurse's station. Like clockwork, his normal workflow began as any other night would be. By the fourth hour, he had attended to multiple patients with varying injuries. It was a challenge to ignore how cute Bucky’s snores were. Steve checked on him from time to time but he wouldn’t get more than a half murmur as an acknowledgment of his presence.

Tired on his feet for being the greatest nurse in the world— as his ceramic mug read in big bold letters— Steve fell backwards on the bottom bunk bed in the break room.

A ten minute nap wouldn’t hurt.

Slipping a hand underneath the pillow, all Steve could think about was blue eyes and brown hair, unable to wipe his grin off his face. In a way, Steve would do anything to go on a date with Bucky. Too bad they met in a professional setting instead of running into each other at a supermarket— or whenever people met these days. Even if they’d met anywhere else, Steve had no idea how to ask someone out, let alone Bucky. Was Bucky the most gorgeous person Steve had ever met in his entire life? Yes, yes he absolutely would be.

"Your ass is out of this world."

That was probably the anesthesia talking. Though Steve had to admit, his ass looked pretty damn fine since the last time he had checked himself out in a mirror.

The various amount of space pickup lines made Steve wonder. What does Bucky do for a living? An astronaut? Or maybe the guy just had a fascination with space. That latter was most likely the case. 

Either way, Steve was a goner from then on. Mere hours ago, he tried to ignore all the sappy thoughts littering his brain. Not anymore. He may as well embrace it.

If only he could figure out how to ask Bucky out...  

Sleep overcame Steve far quicker than he anticipated.

The clock on the wall continued its persistent ticking. A vibrating buzz snapped Steve out of his dreamy haze. It came from his pants pocket, his phone. The bright screen blinded his eyes for a moment before he adjusted the brightness. Steve gasped at the alarm message.

7:14 AM.

He slept for what? More than three hours? That couldn’t be right.

7:15 AM.

“Shit,” Steve cursed, trying but failing to get out of the small confined space. He bumped his head on the top bunk in his attempts. Bunk beds were not made for six-foot people. “Shit.”

The door opened, hall lights blinding Steve’s eyes once more. It shut with a click. “Wow, you look rough,” Sam said, pouring himself a cup of coffee by the counter.

Steve rubbed his eyes, blinking to adjust to the ceiling lights. “Why didn’t anyone wake me?”

“Well first off, you clearly needed it,” Sam said, stirring creamer and sugar into his cup. Way too much for Steve’s taste. Everyone called him an old man for it, but Steve took his coffee black without anything added. “Take a breather every now and then, and try not to overwork yourself.”

“Still, you should’ve woken me,” Steve yawned, feeling more tired now than when he settled down. “How’s Barnes? Or uh, Bucky.”

Sam made a displeased face when he took a small sip. More sugar. Definite sugar magnet. “Good. Just sent him home half an hour ago.”

Steve blinked at Sam, already halfway to the door. “Wait, what?”

“His friend came by and said he’d keep an eye on him. And he looked like he was dying to get outta here, so I brought the discharge papers over when he’d asked for them.”

“Damn it,” Steve yelped out a pained grunt, accidentally knocking his shoulder into the door that came flying open.

“Good morning to you too, Rogers,” Natasha said, carrying two boxes full of sweet pastries.

Steve looked Natasha up and down, her unmistakable red hair was in a ponytail. She too wore patterned scrubs, bright pink with ballet slippers. “Couldn’t you have knocked before barging in here?”

“Yeah, some people are standing right behind the door,” Sam added with a laugh.

“How was I supposed to know?” Natasha plucked a doughnut out from the box, setting it down on the table. “And someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Did not,” Steve argued. He may as well grab a bite to eat. Free overly sweet doughnuts with sprinkles on them? It would be a crime to pass that up.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Sam said.

“And I think I know the reason,” Natasha hummed into the bite of her doughnut, elbowing Steve in the side where he sat beside her on the couch.

“Nat...”

“Got a crush, space pants?” Natasha teased.

Steve whipped his head over, regretting it instantly. A crick in his neck set aflame. “How could you possibly know that?”

Natasha attempted to hide her smug grin beneath her coffee tumbler, though it was clearly evident. “I might’ve overheard a conversation in the parking garage.”

Sam choked on his coffee, liquid sploshing out onto the table. “What else did you hear?”

“Nothing else besides the retelling of Barnes’ story,” she said before adding, “his friend’s dog was eyeing the sweets, though.”

Oh good, Lucky was okay after all. “Guys,” Steve said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. He pushed the pads of his fingers on his forehead to try and ease his killer headache. Two gossiping teenagers for a doctor and a nurse doesn’t help either.

“I think I broke him, Wilson.”

Steve groaned, shoving the remaining doughnut into his mouth. Staring up at the ceiling with his head pillowed by the back of the couch, Steve pushed an annoying strand of hair out of his face. God, he needed a shower. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Cheer up, Steve,” Sam said. “Maybe you’ll find your space boy one day.”

“My space...really Sam?” Steve threw a pillow in the direction of Sam, he dodged it and it crashed into a bookshelf. A couple of books collapsed in the calamity. “Enough with the jokes!”

“But it’s a blast,” Natasha said.

“That’s it, I’m going home.”

Sam leaned back in his seat, chair legs lifting off the ground by an inch. “Hey man, don’t take it too hard.”

“Mhm, I'll try not to.”

By the time he arrived home, Steve completely forgot about the folded up piece of paper. He tossed his dirty scrubs over an armchair while on his way to take a shower.

Thoughts of Bucky littered his brain as he settled into the warm confines of his bed. The sound of his sweet voice, his pretty face, shoulder length hair that curled at the ends, all of his space themed pickup lines. God, it was killing Steve. He hadn’t had a crush in over a decade, if not longer. Even if he’d had a tiny, microscopic crush in the last couple of years, they hadn't been anything like this.

Right now, Steve would rather be anywhere but the overcrowded emergency room. The flu was going around in droves during the cold wintery months. Sick kids, sick teenagers, sick adults. Almost every person who presented symptoms had tested positive.

Steve was hanging in there, letting his feet take him to every new patient. Fevers, coughs, sneezes, even projectile vomit. Good thing he packed an extra set of scrubs before he left for work. Rockets, oh joy. He cursed himself for that mistake.

Natasha shoved a clipboard into his chest. She’d started working nights instead of the mornings for once. Welcome to the club of hell on earth, literally. Another round of paramedics yelled ‘coming through’ as they pushed a gurney into one of the trauma bays.

“This one’s yours,” she said, and before Steve could get a good look at the chart, she shoved him into the assigned cubical.

“Nat—” Steve looked over his shoulder but Natasha was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, unhooking a pen from his chest pocket and clicking it open.

“Good evening, mister...” Looking up, Steve cut himself off short.

“Hey, Nurse Rogers.”

Teeth chattered as Bucky huddled himself in a thin scratchy blanket, shoulders shaking from all the shivering. More than likely a fever. A kidney shaped dish was under Bucky’s chin, he cradled it closely with his good arm, head tipped forward with his back bent.

“Bucky, hey.” Steve mentally shook himself out of whatever daze he’d slipped into. It pained him to see Bucky in such a pitiful state. Retrieving a fresh pair of gloves from a box, the latex made an annoying snapping sound as Steve pulled them over his wrists.

“I’m probably the last person you wanna see,” Bucky groaned before tipping his head forward, expelling what was left in his stomach.

“No, no, it's fine. I'm used to it,” Steve said with a small smile, inserting a thermometer into Bucky's ear.

“Really? ‘Cause I made a fool outta myself last week.”

Steve sat a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “That was just the drugs. No harm done.”

“God, that’s the last time I get pizza from a no-name food truck.”

Water ran from the small sink; Steve dipping a cloth under the faucet then ringing out the excess. “Let me guess, your friend suggested it?”

Gross enough already— though Steve was used to it— Bucky spit into the basin. Bucky leaned back, long hair splayed on the pillow. “You got that right.”

Steve placed a slightly damp compress on Bucky’s forehead, but he tried to push it away upon the contact. “Keep that there,” Steve said in a hushed tone. “You’re running a mild fever.”

“Mmm,” Bucky moaned when another cool cloth met his cheeks; washing the sweat away. Cracking his eyes open from where he closed them, Bucky whistled at Steve’s attire. “Rocket scrubs? It’s like you know me so well.”

“Interested in space or something?” Steve asked, retrieving an IV from a metal tray.

“You could say that,” Bucky said, eyeing the tourniquet in Steve’s hand. “Though I’m not a big fan of needles.”

“I’m pretty good at starting IV’s so I’ll be quick.” It was meant to be a kind gesture but the reassuring touch on Bucky’s shoulder sparked a match between them. Steve cleared his throat, averting his gaze for a moment. “Won’t even know you felt a thing.”

Steve could tell Bucky was struggling to stay calm. His throat muscles contrasted after each swallow and blinked a few stray tears away. Good thing he had a nice set of veins because Steve successfully found one without any trouble. But Bucky kept staring down at his hand, jaw clenched.

“Don’t look, eyes up here,” Steve instructed, pointing to his face.

Worry overtook Bucky within a snap of a finger. Blue eyes met Steve’s, a silent plea for trust. “Can you distract me?”

A distraction, of course. “Yeah, I can do that, Bucky.”

Distracting patients, especially children, was hard enough sometimes. Though a certain little topic might be the next best thing. “What do you do for a living?”

A small flicker of joy sparked on Bucky’s face. “I’m an author. I write children's books about space and the like.”

Success, ten seconds was all it took to get the IV inserted. “Ah, so that’s where all the space jokes come from.”

“Well that and I’m a huge Nasa nerd,” Bucky said with a lighthearted chuckle, amazed by Steve’s handiwork, he turned his hand to and from like a diamond ring.

“Really? I wouldn’t have ever thought,” Steve joked, scribbling a note in the chart. Better slip out now or they’d both make a fool out of themselves. “Let me get Dr. Wilson and we’ll see about getting some meds to fight off that nausea, okay?”

Bucky’s smile was bright as the sun, even though he looked like a dreary cloud. Probably felt like one too. “Sound good, Nurse Rogers.”

“Oh, please, call me Steve.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “I know, I just like calling you that.”

Like a clumsy idiot lost in the space of love, one of Steve’s knees met the medicine drawer. He suppressed a garbled shriek, hoping Bucky wouldn’t take notice. 

Bucky frowned in disbelief. “You okay there, Steve?”

Steve threw a lopsided smile back at Bucky, breathing increasing by the second. He felt like his heart could beat out of his chest any second now. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Okay, just be careful next time,” Bucky giggled, literally giggled. So adorable. His nose scrunching up in a perfect sort of way caused a swarm of butterflies to flutter in Steve’s stomach. Damn him and his cuteness. Damn Steve for falling heads over heels for this guy so soon. 

Outside, a voice amongst the emergency room chatter had made Steve do a double take. “What?”

“I said, how’s it going, rocket man?”

“Enough with the jokes, Sam!” Steve handed Sam the chart, who took it gracefully with a nod.

Sam blew out a low whistle. “Ouch, food poisoning. Wanna bet he came here just to see you again?”

“No way,” Steve scoffed, hands on his hips to show how ridiculous Sam was being.

“I’m just messing with you man, but I wouldn’t be opposed if you asked him out,” Sam said. “After he’s no longer your patient, that is.”

The rational part of Steve’s brain told him to do exactly what Sam was suggesting. The negative and in denial part of him said the chances were slim to none. “I’ll think about it.”

“Get his number at least,” Sam whispered into Steve’s ear before slipping into the curtained off room.

Hopefully no one had noticed Steve taking an extra amount of time in the supply closet. Five minutes doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary. Sulking, what Steve does best.

Come on, ask for his number. It couldn’t be that hard.

"Hi, I’m Steve the nurse, can I get your number so we go out for a coffee or something?"

Steve mentally facepalmed. ‘Steve the nurse.’ Good thing he hadn’t said that out loud.

Sighing to himself, Steve pulled the curtain back and was met with a sight beyond imaginable.

Laughing like a couple of old friends, Sam sat on the edge of the bed while Bucky rambled on about whatever topic they were on about. Sam would get close with his patients, it was a part of his charm.

“Have you ever seen Space Jam?” Bucky asked. He had his good arm wrapped around his stomach, the other resting by his side. Poor guy. Nausea sucked.

“Dude, are you kidding? That’s my favorite movie!”

Steve hung the bag of medicine to the IV pole and hooked it up to the IV port. “That'll take about twenty minutes to finish,” he informed Bucky.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

The nickname rolled off Bucky’s tongue so easily, it made Steve’s heart do a backflip. “So we’re moving onto nicknames now, are we?”

Bucky groaned, eyes slipping shut. “Aw hell, did I say that out loud?”

“I better let you two talk it out. You can get his discharge papers whenever you’re ready...rocket man,” Sam snickered and had no ounce of hiding it.

Bucky’s eyes lit up like a giant Christmas tree, mouth upturning into a smile. “What did you say, Dr. Wilson?”

“Please don’t repeat it,” Steve said and regretted it immediately.

“Rocket man.”

Head thrown back, silent bursts of giggles rumbled deep in Bucky’s chest. Cute, cute, cute. That was the only word to describe it. Adorable, soul crushingly adorable. It made Steve want to do things to him. Soft things like run his hands through Bucky’s hair, feel how soft and smooth it would be after a shower, smell what kind of shampoo he used. Cuddle up in bed with him, on the couch, an armchair, everywhere.

“Ask him out,” Steve’s brave side of his brain said.

“Don’t do it, he’ll turn you down because he’s probably got someone else in his life already,” Steve’s doubtful side of his brain said.

“Rocket man,” Bucky sighed after he came down from his fit of laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one. Hey, Steve.”

“Huh?” Steve blinked, no idea what transpired in the past minute.

“What do planets like to read?”

Sam wheezed a choked up laugh, not able to contain his laughter during his departure.

“I don’t know, what do they like to read?”

“Comet books.”

Steve blew out a long breath through his nose, letting it out slowly. “Space jokes now too?”

“Sit down, I’ve got more than where that came from.” Bucky dared to wiggle his eyebrows, Steve could tell. That one brow kept lifting higher and higher.

So Steve caved and sat on the edge of the bed, mere inches apart from Bucky. Steve glanced at his watch. Call it a break, or comforting a patient.

“Have you been to that new restaurant across town? Moon’s?” Bucky asked, throwing Steve off for a moment before he realized it was the joke in question.

“Uhm, no?”

“Yeah, me neither,” Bucky said, smirking while biting down on his bottom lip. “Heard it’s got no atmosphere.”

“Jesus.” Steve shook his head, staring at his feet because focusing on his wore out Nike’s was a lot better than watching...well, whatever Bucky was doing to Steve’s emotions.

“Ugh,” Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his stomach again. “Seriously, don’t ever order pizza from a sketchy food truck.”

“What were you doing ordering pizza from a food truck anyway?”

“Clint has this weird obsession with trying pizza from every place known to man. How he managed to avoid this, I'll never know.” Bucky’s groans became more persistent, he squeezed his eyes shut and looked as if he was trying to hold himself back from vomiting again.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve grabbed hold of Bucky’s hand, mindful of the IV tubing. Steve gave him a light squeeze, hoping a little reassurance would be comforting.

Mouth parted like a fish out of water, Bucky licked the inside of his lips, not out of habit but out of fear. “I...I don’t know.”

Experience told Steve to grab a basin just in case. And he was right. No more than twenty seconds later and Bucky was back in a bent position, strands of his long hair flipping down into his face. He gagged before the retching began. Out of necessity, Steve reached up and held Bucky’s hair for him.

Bucky let out a miserable whimper. A round of dry heaves hit him since there was nothing left in his stomach. “It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said and neither of them noticed he had used the nickname. “It’s gonna be okay,” he repeated.

Eventually, the heaves subsided. Steve had Bucky rinse his mouth out with some water, then had him drink a small cup’s worth. Eyes shut, Bucky curled up on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his non-injured arm beside his chest. Basin now discarded, Steve draped the blanket of Bucky.   

Bucky peered his eyes open, looking up at Steve. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Just doing my job,” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. I'll get the discharger papers after the IV finishes, okay?"  

“Uh-huh,” Bucky mumbled as a reply, shifting to get into a more comfortable position.

Steve attended to a few more patients before fulfilling his promise. Bucky was fast asleep, finally at peace. Steve didn’t want to disturb him since he needed the rest anyway, but it pained Steve— just by a little— to wake him, only to tell him it was time to go.

When the IV's medication was way past done, Steve brought back the discharge papers for Bucky to sign. This time, Bucky was wide awake. A little cat nap could do wonders. Taking an IV out sucked more than going in— Steve would know, he’d been subjected to countless hospital stays during his childhood— but with expertise at his hand, Steve carefully removed it in one small swoop. He’d grabbed a random band-aid box off the shelf and he wasn’t expecting them to be star bandages.

“Well, I guess you could say that you’re a shooting star.” Steve’s bad attempt at a pickup line hadn’t been for nothing. It felt good to get Bucky to laugh, even if Steve thought he was forcing it; his good arm cradling his stomach again.

“Stop it, Steve,” Bucky said lightheartedly. “You’re gonna make me hurl again.”

They both laughed it off together like two best friends having the time of their lives. When Steve handed Bucky the discharger papers, it was as if neither of them wanted to let go. Their fingers brushed. A tiny spark of something flickered between them. While they stared into each other’s eyes for too long to be considered friendly, Steve began to wonder...

Was this love? Attraction? Romance? It felt like living in another plane of existence. As if floating in a bubble of love. Potential love.

“So this is it, huh,” Bucky said, diverting his gaze to scribble his name in some form of fancy cursive.

“Actually, Bucky? Could I...”

Say it

Say it.

Say it.

Just say it.

“Get you a box of pain relievers?”

Damn it. Not the smoothest he'd ever been. Not by any means.

Bucky messed with the pen cap, clicking it a few times, making a click-clack sound. Biting his lower lip, he said, “Yeah that’d be great.”

As if he’d heard them, Sam poked his head out from the curtain and grabbed Steve’s attention by whistling a low noise. He threw a pack of Tylenol PMs to Steve, who gracefully caught it. Sam shook his head as if in disbelief before slipping back. 

“Take two a day,” Steve said, fidgeting by lifting his heels off the ground, planting them down then up again.

“Two a day,” Bucky repeated, reading the label on the box. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Nurse— Steve.”

“You too,” Steve heard himself say, trailing his eyes on Bucky, who moved gracefully as he gathered his things. A small black bag with a chest strap and a light jacket with a miniature NASA pin attached to it.

It took everything in Steve not to pull Bucky back by the arm and tell him what he really wanted to say. But he couldn’t get the words out. They were stuck way back in his throat.

Yeah, it was going to be a hell of a night with Bucky on his mind.

It took a moment before Sam reappeared, but once he did, he had a soulful look on his face. “Dude, try using your words next time.”

“I tried,” Steve groaned, falling onto the bed where Bucky had been. It was still warm from his body heat too. Not exactly how Steve dreamed of feeling Bucky’s warm body for the first time.

“So now what? You just gonna wait until he miraculously shows up again?”

Steve lifted his head off the pillow and gave Sam a ‘what else would I do?’ look.

“He’s probably outside the hospital right now, I could ask him out for you if—”

Oh hell no— wait a second—

It hit Steve so quick, he should be the one with a broken bone. Obviously, he should chase after Bucky. In a hurry, Steve scrambled to stand up.

“Don’t trip!” Steve heard Sam shout behind him.

Dodging every bit of oncoming traffic was a struggle but manageable. Nurses and doctors scurried back, yelling ‘watch where you’re going!’ Steve looked back at them, apologizing. He almost toppled not one but two IV polls on his way out. The automatic doors wouldn't open fast enough for his liking, they seemed slower than they usually were. 

Just ask him.

Do it.

“Bucky!”

Steve looked to and from. A few EMTs stood by a parked ambulance, chilling out on their break. From a distance, the falling snow was illuminated by the streetlights, no people to be seen. And dark enough as it was, there were no signs of a pretty blue eyed man with long brown hair.

“Bucky,” Steve shouted again with the same amount of force, feeling like he was losing by a thread. With haste, he jogged over to the empty sidewalk.

Left, right, forward, behind, left, and right again.

Bucky was gone like the wind. Hell, who was Steve kidding? Bucky probably doesn’t feel the same way as he does. Foolish of him for hoping Bucky would come crawling back. As if he needed to. They were mere strangers, and they barely knew a thing about one another besides Bucky’s love for space and Steve’s dedicated job.

The freezing snow burned his knees, lungs filling with each breath from the cold night air. When had he fallen to a heap on the ground?

“Damn it, Buck.”

To say the least, the following week felt more like an eternity than anything. In that time, Steve became a grouchy mess of a person. Sam and Natasha began to notice the change in his behavior at some point, so they stopped teasing him with their space puns. Natasha took pity on him and hadn’t been mad when he’d called off the blind date. Technically, he ditched out of the whole thing. He felt like an ass for not showing up or at least giving them a call. But it wasn’t like he was looking forward to it in the first place. It wasn’t the first, or that last time Natasha would set him up with someone.

Steve knew he should pull himself together and just move on. So the guy he wanted had returned, and what does Steve do? Fumble with his words like any other time he had taken interest in someone.

Steve blew his second chance and it was entirely his fault.

Dead tired on his feet— and as a matter of fact, he could really go for a foot massage right about now— Steve went over a chart for what may as well be their hundredth sick patient of the night. For a Saturday, it had been one of the worst days they’d seen in quite some time. The bright fluorescent lights caused his eyes to burn, coupled with lack of sleep. Steve blinked a few times, straining to read what was listed.

Nasal congestion, cough, sneezes, headache, and a fever. A classic case of the common cold. Who in the hell comes to the emergency room at four in the morning for a cold? Idiots, that was who. In what way could someone waste healthcare professionals' time? By complaining about something they wouldn’t be able to throw medicine at beyond over-the-counter cold and flu medicine.  

Behind the curtain came a short round of dry coughs. Steve pulled the curtain back in one smooth tug. In an instant, his breath caught in his throat. The sight before him tugged at his heartstrings.

While his face was flushed as could be, Bucky’s overall appearance was disheveled, clearly miserable. His arm cast was resting on his stomach, a ways below the faded NASA logo on his ratty grey shirt. Unlike his last two visits, Bucky’s tousled hair had a greasy shine to it, strands clumping together, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

Seemingly, Bucky hadn’t heard Steve come in. The bags under his closed eyes matched his red nose, sore from blowing it to death with god knows how many tissues. Sick as a dog but cute as a button. The softer potential boyfriend side of Steve wanted to wrap Bucky up in warm blankets and gently rock him until it would be okay. But the nurse side of him sprang into action.

Steve set the chart down at the foot of the bed, hovering over to Bucky’s side, who still hadn’t moved a muscle. Putting gloves on would most likely startle him.
A rude awakening from an annoying sound of latex snapping wasn’t in Steve’s mental ‘101 ways to be a better nurse’ list. Although it was astonishing Bucky could sleep under such conditions; from crying babies to overall late night hospital chaos.

With the utmost care in mind, Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder a gentle shake, finally getting a response on his second try. “Hey, not feeling too well?”

“Steve?” Bucky croaked out after clearing his throat multiple times, voice miles away from his normal flirty self. “Didn’t realize I fell asleep.”

“Surprised you were able to get some shut-eye throughout the noise,” Steve said, forcing himself to part ways in order to do his job. Their last conversation nagged his brain, but Bucky’s health came first and foremost.

“Grew up with three sisters so I’m kinda used to it,” he replied, coughing into his elbow but not his fist, thank goodness. Bucky looked back at Steve who in turn, had an oral thermometer in his now gloved hands. Ear thermometers were hard to come by because of the abundance of patients. 

“Open up, under your tongue,” Steve said softly.

Like the little devil he was, Bucky licked his lips before opening his mouth. It set Steve’s heart off faster than lightning. Neither of them broke the silence during the reading, save for Steve’s sneakers squeaking against the linoleum flooring. Steve took out a blood pressure cuff, wrapping it around Bucky’s good arm. While it inflated, the thermometer set off its monotone beep.

“Definitely got a fever." 

Groaning, Bucky blindly reached for the tissue box that was nestled in the blanket. He blew his nose with a couple. “At least I got sick for a good cause.”

“A cause?” Steve inquired, a little intrigued.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, shifting his legs around a bit, uncomfortable with the increasing pressure on his arm. “Every now and then, I’ll read to kids at the library and give out some of my books— even participate in a charity for the children’s hospital too.”

“That’s great Buck, really nice of you to do that.” The nickname hung in the air. Steve had slipped it in once before, but this was the first time Bucky noticed it. Evidently, Bucky liked it; if the small smile on his face was anything to go by. 

“Mhm,” Bucky hummed but it turned into a full fledged coughing fit, forceful enough for his back to lift off the bed.

“Easy,” Steve soothed, rubbing a hand over Bucky’s upper back. “Your blood pressure is normal, so that’s good. How long has that cough been bothering you?” He asked for permission before moving on ahead by plugging the ends of his stethoscope into his ears.

Lifting Bucky’s shirt up, Steve pressed the diaphragm to his back. While Steve’s fingers brushed Bucky’s overheated skin, he started to lean forward, sweat drenched hair dangling around his face. With his unoccupied hand, Steve settled a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to steady him.

“‘Bout a day now? It started soon as I got home later that night,” Bucky said but ended his response with a sigh. He began to ramble, and Steve let him vent out his frustrations. Some patients were talkative, others were not. Bucky sure was a chatterbox when he wanted to be.

“I gave my number to an old friend of mine who knew some of the popular girls from high school. And through her, he had promised to hook me up with a blind date,” Bucky paused to blow his nose. “At least I didn’t get them sick, since they stood me up. And hell, I never got anything beyond a date location— which I picked out by the way— since my dumbass friend dropped his phone down the toilet. He couldn't get it fixed since it was one of those burn phones. You know they still sell flip phones? It's crazy." 

Wait, a date? If Bucky had a date then that meant he already had plans before Steve came around. Well shit, so much for that. Steve’s chances of snagging a date with Bucky were looking to be slim to none.

“Sorry for springing that on you. I’m more annoyed at him than anything. There’s a reason we don’t talk anymore and I should’ve known better than listen to his antics on Facebook,” Bucky added.

From a more medical standpoint, rather than unprofessional thoughts, there were no signs of wheezing. Definitely looked like a cold. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Steve’s reply came up short, but it was the thought that counted. “You’ve probably got a bad cold, but I’ll get Dr. Wilson to order an influenza test just in case.” And on that note... “Have you gotten a flu shot yet?”

“Always do,” Bucky said with his lips pressed together, curving into a smile. “Where is Dr. Wilson, anyway? By now, I thought he would be chanting the Bill Nye theme song.”

“He’s um,” Steve faltered. When he reached above his head, he somehow, someway, managed to tangle his stethoscope around his face.

“Think it goes around your neck,” Bucky added with a genuine smile, grinning ear to ear amidst a soft chuckle, chest congestion clear as day.

“Sam’s— Dr. Wilson’s probably with another patient right now,” Steve said faster than he’d like to admit, walking backwards while looking straight at Bucky. “I’ll get him, okay? You’re doing great—”

“Chair,” Bucky warned.

What a klutz. By a saving grace, Steve avoided the said chair. “Oh jeez— thanks." 

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he slipped out into the open emergency floor.

“Bill, Bill, Bill!” Sam chanted in a whisper with his arms crossed, standing a few feet away from the cubical.

Unbelievable. Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“No,” Sam said far too quickly for Steve’s liking.

“Right, so you’ll approve the test I suggested?”

“Sure, go on ahead,” Sam said before adding, “you’re the nurse here, after all.”

Steve walked in stride with Sam, retrieving a test packet from a drawer then returning to the nurses' station. “This is fun for you, isn’t it?”

Sam sighed and tucked his hands into his white coat pockets. He looked away before focusing back on Steve again. “No, I just want what’s good for you, man. Just ask him out or I’ll do it for you.”

“But he’s sick,” Steve argued, giving into hopelessness instead of confidence.

“So?”

Steve shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m not asking him out when he’s sick. Besides, I think he’s interested in dating other types of people. He’s an author, I’m a full-time nurse who works the nightshift. And maybe he’s not into guys either.”

“Wow, okay,” Sam said, blinking. “Number one? That’s a bullshit excuse. Number two? You haven’t even asked him to know if he does or not.

“But Sam—”

“Go out there and ask him or I’ll call my mama and have her talk some sense into you.”

It was useless to argue further since Sam had pushed Steve forward, making him trip on his own two feet. He landed smack dab in the middle of the cubical with none other than Bucky.

Purposely avoiding eye contact, Steve pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, the sound of latex snapping against his skin. The paper encasing the swab rattled as Steve tore it open, buying himself time by pretending to get everything set up. It almost hurt to look at Bucky. The way he smiled at Steve— despite how miserable he felt— and how heart crushingly precious his personality was.

God, Steve outright yearned for Bucky.

“You just gonna stand there all day or shove that thing up my nose?”

Bucky’s offhand comment broke Steve out of his thoughts, coming back to reality. “Sorry,” he murmured, just inches away from Bucky. “Tilt your head back up, little more, there you go.”

To keep him steady, Steve held Bucky’s chin with his non-dominant hand, feeling his rough day-old stubble underneath his gloves. It lasted for no more than half a minute, though it felt like a lifetime.

“Ugh,” Bucky said, reaching over for a tissue. “I really hate those.”

“Yeah, they’re no fun,” Steve agreed with a short nod, placing the swab into the clear test tube. “Be back in a moment, alright? Gonna take this up to the lab real quick.”

“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

It took more than fifteen minutes because Steve procrastinated the whole time, but the rapid test turned out negative. Unsurprising, but good news. During that time, Sam had performed a short exam. Now all was left was for Steve to replay the results.

Normally, Steve would be slickly ticked that a patient would waste their time for an ordinary cold but this was Bucky, someone Steve really wanted to go out with.

Steve swept the curtain aside with the back of his hand, boxes of cough and cold medicine under his arm. “Alright, Buck.”

“Am I an infected space goat?” Bucky joked, trying to get a laugh out of Steve and it almost worked.

“No,” Steve gave in and laughed, corner of his eyes crinkling. “You’ve just got a cold. A little cough medicine should do the trick.”

Bucky took the offered medicine, slipping it into his backpack. “So I’m free to go?”

Steve gave a nonsensical hum, twirling the drawstrings of his scrub bottoms between his fingers. Like the age old saying, ‘third time's a charm.’

“Uh, actually? I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Steve said, actually keeping eye contact for more than five seconds.

Bucky blinked slowly, a puzzled look on his face. His tongue slipped out, running over his pink lips. Without a word, he nodded for Steve to continue.

“Bucky, would you like to—”

“Shit, Buckster,” a voice said behind the curtain.

A short blonde haired man barged in, wearing what looked to be a pizza stained purple shirt. “I came soon as Kate texted me.”

The timing couldn’t be any worse. Steve dared to roll his eyes at not only how stupid he’d been for stalling, but the fact that this guy had no courtesy of knocking— or say something beforehand since there wasn't an actual door to knock on.  

“Clint, hey.” Bucky breathing out his name as if caught off guard. Steve certainly was.

“This the doc?” Clint said, eyeing Steve up and down. “Sorry, I’m his roommate.”

“No, Steve’s a nurse.”

“No, I’m a nurse,” Steve said at the same time.

They locked eyes for a moment. Neither of them broke their gaze. It was as if they were having a silent conversation that only the two of them could understand.

Clint patted Bucky’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. You were out so I dropped everything and drove here myself. I was coughing up a lung and thought it was more serious than it actually is.”

“He ain’t dyin’ or anything is he?” Clint quipped, a sheepish grin upturning his mouth.

Steve pressed his lips together to form a tight lipped smile. “He’s just got a little cold is all,” he said. “He’s free to go, better slip outta here before he has a chance of catching something else.”

“Oh good,” Clint said, turning back to Bucky. “We can marathon Dog Cops and I’ll buy you all the ice cream you can eat.”

The witty banter between the two told Steve they’d been friends for quite some time. Since he was so weak on his feet, it only took two seconds for Clint to jump in and wrap an arm around Bucky. But before Clint could steer them towards the exit, Bucky looked over his shoulder, eyes linking to Steve’s.

“What did you want to ask me, Steve?”

Can I take you out to a candlelit dinner? Or maybe just a coffee? Maybe the space museum?

Sighing through his nose, Steve spoke, “nothing,” in such a soft, quiet voice so the others wouldn’t be able to hear it distinctly. “Just get home and rest up, Buck.”

“Okay,” Bucky’s simple reply came off as skeptical. It was as if he knew something was odd with Steve’s response. Maybe, just maybe. “Thanks for taking care of me again, it was nice to see a familiar face.”

“You too,” Steve whispered, and only for him to hear. He was smiling on the outside but frowning on the inside.

And with that, Bucky was gone once again. Only this time, Steve let him go. If Bucky was truly interested, he would say so, wouldn’t he? Perhaps Steve read him wrong. Bucky’s flirting was probably a part of his character. It wouldn’t surprise Steve in the slightest if that was the case.

Steve stood in the same spot for far too long. He finally left the cubicle after a while. Five minutes? Ten minutes? Who knew. The emergency wing had miraculously calmed down in the last half hour. Steve was due for a break anyway. Upon reaching his destination to the supply closet to sulk, Sam came around from the corner and Steve had to stop himself from bumping into him.

Sam studied Steve’s face in silence; both of them blocking hall traffic to flow freely. Speechless, Steve had nothing to say. And hell, Natasha would totally vouch for Steve about being a horrible liar. If Steve’s kicked puppy dog face wasn’t hideable, then his sour mood definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

“You goddamn idiot,” Sam said after a long beat.

“I know,” Steve groaned and wiped a palm over his face.

“How do you get yourself in these kinds of situations, man?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s just six words! Do. You. Wanna. Go. Out. Sometime.”

“He never showed any interest in asking me out either so don’t think I’d get lucky,” Steve argued. A team of paramedics asked to get by, Sam and Steve stepping aside for them to pass.

Sam threw his head back and rolled his eyes. “Then you’re both idiots.”

“Maybe we are,” Steve said, too focused on staring down the hall as if Bucky would pop out of nowhere. “But the chances of running into him again are slim to none, so,” he sighed, looking back at Sam. “We’ve all gotta move on at some point, right?”

“Now I know you’re bad at lying but I never thought you’d lie to yourself.”

“Come on, Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam lowered his voice down to a hushed whisper. “I could sneak the guy’s file and grab his number if you want me to.”

Steve huffed. It only took two steps back for him to collide into a metal shelf, packaged medical supplies crashing onto the floor. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”

Sam raised his hands out in front of him, in a calm, level headed manner. “Just an offer. It still stands if you change your mind.”

In what way could Steve possibly embarrass himself further? Oh right. By calling up his former patient slash crush, then explain why he had his best friend illegally obtain the number.

Solid as a rock, Steve ground out, “No.” Firm on his decision, he pushed off the wall after picking up the strewn about items, turning back around to fulfill the remaining hours of his shift.

“Oh so you’re not only an idiot, but you’re stubborn too,” Sam said, following right behind Steve.

“Leave me alone, Sam,” Steve sighed.

“Alright, alright— grumpy space rock.”

Steve whipped around on his toes, squeaky shoes piercing the hall’s commotion. “What did you just say?”

“Gonna have plenty of space for the incoming rockstars,” Sam repeated, clearly lying through his teeth.

Steve knew exactly what he heard, but he let it go anyway. He dived headfirst into his work. If he had to block any lingering thoughts of Bucky just to get by, then so be it.

Two weeks later, Steve found himself deep in his work like no other time in his career. He followed a strict schedule, one he wouldn’t dare to change. Be home by seven, feed his dog, make or buy himself a sizable meal, and sleep for at least eight hours. If he was lucky. Then go back to work, rinse, and repeat.

Feed Dodger.

Eat a sandwich.

Toss and turn on the bed.

Ignore all thoughts of blue eyes and brown hair.

Be subjected to hundreds of screaming patients, some of which they wouldn’t be able to save.

Day in, day out.

Until his alarm clock hadn’t gone off.

The big red numbers prompted Steve to bolt right out of bed, faster than a spaceship could take off. Ugh, space. He’d never hated space more in his life.

It would take at least a half hour to get across town. Scrounging up something that resembled breakfast and making it to the subway on time was a challenging feat on its own. Or, he could take his old junker of a bike, but there was a reason he called it a junker. It rarely cranked, especially during the cold winter months.

Steve hovered over to the sink after a quick shower. His lonely, unused razer had been collecting dust at this rate. Once he started growing it out, it had slowly grown into a thick mess of beard, but he kept it well trimmed. To give himself credit, a beard made him look pretty damn fine.

Clothes, where had he put his work clothes? Dodger brushed up his leg when he reached the laundry room. He lifted the lid of the washing machine.

“Aw, shit.”

Wet multi-patterned scrubs clung to the sides, every single pair he owned. Absolutely wonderful. Somehow he’d forgotten to transfer them to the dryer the night before. Digging through his closet was no help. Leather jackets, jeans, henleys, sweaters, and outerwear weren’t exactly hospital worthy. Way down in the back was a storage tub about the length of his forearm. Inside it was a dusty pair of scrubs from his nursing school days. Steve had gone through a growth spurt since then but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Dust showered the air when Steve shook the wrinkly grey scrubs out. Again, he was desperate at this point. Believe it or not, he hadn’t been able to tie a proper bow until he met Natasha. Miraculously, the pants fit. It took a lot longer than the pants, but eventually, Steve managed to pull the top over himself; biceps bulging out of the thin fabric.

Technically it fit, but it was so goddamn constricting in the chest area. His pecs were on full display, no mistake he worked out. And he thought his workout shirts were tight. This took compression shirts to a whole new level.

Either deal with it all day or—

The vibrant planet patterned scrubs stuck out, lying on the armchair where he last left them. Obviously, that would be the better option. Dirty, but far more comfortable. Better than walking around like a piece of stiff cardboard.

Bucky’s innocent face flashed in Steve’s mind.

“Are those planets?”

On second thought, enduring a whole day of uncomfortableness was far more appealing than being reminded of his crush that got away. Steve turned around, only for the fabric to rip straight down the middle.

He sighed heavily. “Planets it is then.”

As if his day wasn’t going sour already, the scrub top slipped out of his grasp.

“Come on,” he groaned, bending to pick it up.

The folded piece of paper fell out of the chest pocket. It weaved through the air, landing on the floor, unfounded. Give him a break. As if Steve would give them a call. He hadn’t before, and he wouldn’t now. No one would compare to Bucky.

Wearing his slightly stinky rocket scrubs, Steve went to crumble the paper into a ball but something caught his eye.

BUCKY BARNES.

In full capitalization, with the provided number right next to it.

“I gave my number to an old buddy of mine who knew some of the popular girls from high school.”

“I gave my number.”

“My number.”

“Some popular girls from college.”

“Popular girls.”

Natasha. Who else would it be?

Steve gravitated to his bed on heavy legs. All this time, throughout the heartache, he had Bucky’s number? He spent days, weeks, moping around, practically punishing himself for blowing his chances. Had Natasha been apart of this scheme, knowing full well what it was doing to Steve’s heart and emotions? Even after canceling ditching the date?

Damn it. Goddamn it.

Steve pressed the button with the contact he wanted to (kindly) strangle.

“Well if it isn’t space pants McTardy.”

Steve ignored the dumb nickname by saying, “Were you ever going to tell me?” instead, while practically foaming at the mouth, anger bubbling up in his chest.

“Tell you what?” Natasha said as if she was one hundred and ten percent innocent. She could keep up her little game all she wanted but Steve knew exactly what she was doing. 

“That Bucky was my blind date!”

“Who’s Bucky?”

Anger was about to get a brand new definition. Scoffing, because he couldn’t believe he was hearing this, Steve picked the paper off the floor, starting at the number. “You know who. The Bucky who came in with a broken arm? The Bucky who had food poisoning, and then came down with a cold? That Bucky.”

Steve lifted the phone away from his ear since Natasha’s gasp of realization pierced through the receiver. “Wait, that James? As in, James Barnes? Steve hummed frustratingly. “Wow, I’d never guess. We never talked much, so I never knew his last name. I knew he looked oddly familiar." 

Natasha rambled on and on, and in that time, Steve’s anger simmered down to a standstill. He breathed, counting his inhales in between exhales. Okay, Natasha wasn’t the enemy here. It was just a misunderstanding, a large one at that.

“So are you gonna give him a call?”

“Uh,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “What would I even say?”

“Beats me, that’s something for you to decide.”

Click.

Steve stared at the paper in his hands. For him, it was morning. For Bucky, it was night. Either call him right now or at a more reasonable hour.  

Screw it.

Bucky picked up on the first ring.

“This is Bucky speaking.”

That voice, that sweet, sweet voice. Oh, it was so good to hear him again. 

“I swear to god if this is another scammer—”

“Hi, Bucky.”

The line went silent.

Doubts, so many doubts rushed through Steve’s mind: He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t appreciate you calling at this hour. He probably doesn’t have feelings for you.

“Steve?”

It shouldn’t be unforeseen, but it was. After collecting himself, Steve let out a shaky breath. One word is better than none, right?

“Yeah, it’s me,” Steve said sheepishly.

What sounded like over a dozen papers, had rustled together on the other end of the line. Then, chair legs creaked against hardwood. “That’s great and all, but how did you get this number?”

“Uh well, you see—”

“You got it out of my file, didn’t you?” Bucky’s humorous tone had a calming effect on Steve. Relieved even. What an outcome. 

“No, of course not.” Steve was quick to smush that idea down. “Remember when you came in with a cold? You said you gave your number to an old friend.”

Bucky’s heavy, drawn out sigh gave Steve the perfect visualization of him rolling his eyes. “Yup, and that was a waste of my precious time. But why do you ask?”

“Funny story actually,” Steve laughed ever so lightly. “You remember the red headed nurse? Natasha? Apparently, she’s the one who set us up.”

“You were my date?” Bucky raised his voice to a near shout.

“Surprise,” Steve said while wincing, hating himself by the second.

“Huh,” Bucky huffed, breath making a sound against the reciver. “We weren’t friends but she used to have blonde hair. No wonder I didn’t recognize her. She was so secretive about herself too, I remember her going by Natalia instead of Natasha.”

“Really now? Interesting,” Steve said. Oh, he’d figure out a way to get that story out of her. “Anyway...” Oh, this was awkward. So awkward. “Listen, I should apologize for standing you up. The truth is, I didn’t even look at the note she gave me. I’m really sorry for never, you know.” God, he was horrible at this.

“Hmm. That wasn’t the first time someone stood me up, so maybe you could make it up to me.”

“You— hold on,” Steve said, blinking a few times as if it would correct his hearing. “You’re wanting to give me a chance?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“You’re kidding me. I’ve been meaning to ask you out three times now!”

More than that realistically, but who was counting?

“Then that makes two of us then,” Bucky said. “‘Cause I was so embarrassed by all the stuff I said when I got my arm fixed.”

“Hey, don’t be. You were adorable.”

“Aw thanks, space pants.”

Steve groaned, falling onto his back. “Please don’t start with that. Nat and Sam have been nagging me ever since.”

“It does have a nice ring to it, don’tchu say?”

“Maybe when you say it.”

They sat there in silence, listening to each other’s breathing.

“So,” Bucky said.

“So,” Steve repeated back.

Bucky rumbled out a soft hum, music to Steve’s ears. “When are you getting off?”

“Hopefully soon,” Steve purred, totally misinterpreting what Bucky was trying to convey.

“Jesus Steve!” Bucky’s loud voice distorted the connection for a second. “I meant when are you free.”

“Oh,” Steve deadpanned. “Oh! Wow, I messed that one up.”

Bucky’s laugh sparked a thousand matches in Steve’s heart. “You’re something else Nurse Rogers.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nope.”

“You jerk,” Steve said playfully. “How about I take you out to my favorite restaurant later this weekend? I can text you the address.”

“Hmm, I could go for food,” Bucky replied, humming. “When?”

Steve stood and walked over to the kitchen. The calendar below the wall clock— “Oh god.”

Bucky made another curious hum. “Change your mind or something?”

“No, I’m just late for work,” Steve said, sighing, grabbing his keys off the keyring hook. “Like really late.”

“Oh,” Bucky laughed. “Then get off the phone you punk! And hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been procrastinating on writing all day.”

“I go to work, you write, and then I call you tonight— or technically morning,” Steve said, adding, “how does that sound?”

“Now that I can work with.”

“Have a good one, Buck.”

“Bye, Stevie.”

Getting talked off by his boss sucked, but knowing he snagged a date with Bucky made it easier to bear. As it turned out, Natasha indeed changed her name after high school. Steve joined in with Sam’s begging about old pictures of Natasha. Indeed, her short blonde hair was a vast difference from her now, red long hair.   

“You’ve been letting Steve on all this time?” Sam said.

“Barnes and I weren’t close so how was I supposed to know,” Natasha replied.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, passing by Steve. “Well hey, congrats on finally getting that date. You deserve it, man.”

Bashful, Steve smiled. “Thanks, Sam.”

Rain droplets trickled down from the gutters and onto the concrete. It hadn’t been letting up in the last hour. Steve’s keys dangled, unlocking his front door. His phone rang right as he stepped into the entryway. The one and only.

“Bucky, hey.” A pained grunt greeted him instead of the beautiful voice he’d been expecting. “Buck? You okay?”

Fabric shuffled, muting the sound of Bucky’s voice for a beat. “—so it’s just my arm.”

Steve’s soft bedside manner kicked up in gear. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Feels like someone is squeezing it to death,” he grunted again. “It’s been hurting all night.”

Steve kicked his soaking wet sneakers off. Water droplets dripped onto the doormat; worn out leather jacket soaked from the pouring rain. “It could be from the sudden change of weather,” he said and walked further down the hall to turn the heat up. “And I bet the cold doesn’t help much either.”

“I don’t know what to do, Steve,” Bucky said, sighing heavily. His tone of voice sounded more dreary than the rain itself. “I’ve taken painkillers and it still hurts.”

A thought crossed Steve’s mind. “Hey, why don’t you come over to my place? Maybe I can figure something out for you,” he said, then adding, “I can even order us take-out if you want.”

“You’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “It’s not a perfect first date, but what’s the harm in having a last minute get together?”

He couldn’t see it, but Steve knew there had to be a smile on Bucky’s face. “Send me your address and I’ll be right over.”

Steve’s nerves were going haywire. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but this would be the first time he and Bucky would see each other outside of the hospital. Changing his clothes and ordering food for delivery was a good distraction though.

There was a knock on the door, and it wasn’t the delivery person.

Opening the door blew Steve away. Beautiful, so beautiful. While he felt and looked like crap, Bucky’s skinny jeans hugged him in all the right directions. He wore a Nasa t-shirt similar to the one from a few weeks ago, only a few holes were around the neckline.

“Hi,” Bucky said.

“Hi, Buck.” Steve stepped aside, holding the door open for him. “Come on in.”

“Wow,” Bucky whistled when Steve led him to the living room. “Nice place you got here.”

Steve glanced around the room. To him, it wasn’t much. A couple of worn out couches were in the middle with a glass coffee table stuck between them. Plus, his favorite armchair for reading. The real wooden bookshelf took up the wall space on the left.

“Thanks, it was my Ma’s actually, before she passed.”

Bucky nodded, giving Steve a sympathetic face before sitting on the couch. The doorbell rang, followed by loud barking. “You have a dog?”

“For two years now,” Steve said, hoping to settle Dodger down. It was useless until he spotted Bucky, he then quieted down immediately.

“Aw, who’s a good boy,” Bucky cooed, giving Dodger a head rub, one-handed.

Steve sat the paper bag on the coffee table, looking out the window. The rain had finally stopped. “Does your arm still hurt?” Steve asked while retrieving a couple of forks, and two water bottles from the kitchen.

“Mm, kinda but not as much,” Bucky replied, already taking a peek at the contents in the bag. “Ooh, Thai food.”

Steve dug through a junk drawer from the entertainment center, bringing out a small heating pad. “Normally you’re not supposed to put heat on a cast but ten minutes on the lowest setting shouldn’t hurt.”

The cord was long enough to reach, so Steve carefully wrapped the pad around Bucky’s injured arm. Steve’s Ma swore by heating pads and low and behold, they were miracle workers.

Bucky sunk further down, arm propped on the armrest with a decorative pillow underneath. “Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Did I ever tell you that you're a great nurse?”

Steve smiled, handing Bucky a take-out container. “Probably so.”

While they ate, they went over little facts about themselves. How Steve became a nurse, how Bucky started writing for the children’s genre, and Bucky’s obsession for space. Steve too had his own obsession, panting. Though he doesn’t paint often, he still enjoyed the hobby on occasion.

Bucky’s thigh brushed up against Steve’s when he sat his empty take-out contained on the coffee table. “Thanks for buying me dinner, and for the heating pad.”

“You’re welcome, Buck.”

It wasn't how he planned it, but Steve felt something brewing between them. It drew him in, gravity forcing them together, inches apart. Awestruck, Steve flicked his eyes down to Bucky's lips, then back up to his face. Steve leaned further in before cupping Bucky's cheeks, running his thumb in a nonsensical pattern. Silently, Bucky gave a short nod for permission. They both gasped when it happened, Steve capturing Bucky's oh so soft lips for the first time, gentle as could be. 

The kiss was slow and sweet, then grew into something more, tender even. Bucky tipped his chin up, deepening the kiss. Maybe it went on for a minute. Maybe a lifetime, but Steve never wanted to let this go. Breathless, Steve looked into Bucky's eyes, breathing them apart but not too far. 

“How was that, sweetheart?” Steve said softly, slipping another light kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky breathed out a sigh, fluttering his long eyelashes. “Let’s just say, don’t ever shave your beard off.”

A quiet little laugh tumbled out of Steve, and Bucky pulled him in for another kiss, more passionate than the last. “Okay, okay. I’ll add it right next to my note of taking you out on a real date.”

“Oh you better, ‘cause I was stood up by a certain someone,” Bucky teased.

“You little jerk, you’ll never let me live that down, will you?”

“Mmm, nope,” Bucky said, head resting on Steve’s shoulder. 

After an hour of watching a space documentary, they fell sleeps right there on the couch, cuddled up in a large blanket. 

Impromptu date one was a success, and so would the next, and the one after that. All of them would be successful because Steve loved Bucky just as much as Bucky loved Steve.