Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7214536.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Captain_America_(Movies), Marvel_Cinematic_Universe
  Relationship:
      James_"Bucky"_Barnes/Steve_Rogers
  Character:
      Steve_Rogers, James_"Bucky"_Barnes, Natasha_Romanov, Clint_Barton, Tony
      Stark, Jessica_Jones, Peggy_Carter, Thor_(Marvel), Brock_Rumlow, More
      people_too_but_mostly_cameos
  Additional Tags:
      Enemies_to_Friends_to_Lovers, Hate_Sex, Rich_Bucky, rich_Steve, Underage
      Sex, Underage_Drinking, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Internalized
      Homophobia, Homophobia, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added, Bucky_Sleeps
      With_A_Lot_Of_Guys
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-15 Chapters: 1/? Words: 5767
****** Four in Some Velvet Morning ******
by bxrnesrogers
Summary
     Steve had his whole life planned out for him. School, Football,
     Marriage, the American Dream. That plan definitely did not include
     family friend and sworn enemy-since-childhood Bucky Barnes: so why
     did he keep ending up in his bed?
     Or, a fic where Bucky sleeps with a lot of guys and Steve is
     "straight." Steve thinks Bucky is a spoiled, sex addicted brat and
     Bucky thinks Steve is a homophobic goody-two-shoes asshole. They say
     they cant stand eachother, but it gets a lot more complicated than
     that. Also, hate sex!
Notes
     Oh boy!
     This is my first try at fanfiction, so please leave any kind
     criticism or general comments! I'll try to post once a week :)
     I'll add more tags as I go, but keep in mind that this fic is
     EXPLICIT and Bucky is 16 in this fic while Steve is 17, making them
     both underage.
See the end of the work for more notes
Steve Rogers has hated Bucky Barnes ever since they first met when Steve was in
the seventh grade and Bucky was in the sixth. Both of their fathers worked at a
huge corporation--something related to biochemistry, though Steve was never
interested enough in the business to truly figure out what it was that they
did. Joseph and George hit it off and before he knew it, Steve was being
ushered into the Barnes’ home and expected to immediately befriend their son.
It was only logical, according to their parents, that Steve and Bucky would get
along just as well as their fathers. They could not have been more wrong.
As soon as Steve laid his eyes on Bucky, he knew there was no chance for them
at a friendship. The younger boy reeked of arrogance, his nose turned up as his
piercing eyes dug into Steve’s core, leaving nothing to the imagination when it
came to his feelings towards the blond boy. He was dressed to the nines, his
hair slicked back in a pompous quiff; Steve felt ridiculous standing next to
him in his jeans and T-shirt--not because he thought he looked out of place,
but because he thought Bucky looked like the very image of pretentiousness.
Still, however, he stuck his hand out and forced a smile; Sara Rogers raised
him too well for him to be passive towards a stranger.
“Steve,” he said, trying not to let his premonitions of the other boy effect
his tone.
Bucky looked at the hand as if it personally offended him, and it was only when
his father gave him a subtle look that he rolled his eyes and grabbed Steve’s
hand in return.
“Bucky,” he spat. The contact was gone after one firm shake, his arm returning
to his chest as he crossed one on top of the other. His mother, Winifred, was
the complete opposite of her son, smiling warmly at her guests.
“Sara, Joseph, why don’t we step into the kitchen and give the boys some time
to become acquainted?” Although she posed it as a question, there was no
denying the firmness of her voice. As a mother, she was constantly worried
about Bucky, who seemed to only have girl friends. She questioned many times
whether or not her son was gay, and she hoped that the presence of another boy
might steer Bucky away from the path he seemed to be headed towards. She wasn’t
homophobic, but she wanted her darling to have an easy life, one that would
never subject him to a world of hatred or discrimination; at this point, she
was desperate for Steve and Bucky to form a brotherly bond.
As the adults allowed their children some space, Steve rocked on his heels with
his hands stuck in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.
Reaching for anything that they might have in common, he said the first thing
that came to mind.
“So...do you like art?” Steve began. “My mom got me this awesome drawing pad
for my birthday and I’ve discovered that it’s really kinda-”
“No.” Bucky’s tone was both bored and judgmental at the same time, leaving
Steve a bit shocked at how rude he was. He was raised by a woman who preached
kindness and manners; to see a boy who was so full of himself and unconcerned
with the feelings of those around him not only baffled Steve on its own, but
also made him wonder how someone like Bucky could come from such lovely
parents. Still, he persevered.
“Do you like football?” Somehow, he knew that Bucky’s answer would be no, so he
continued on without pause. “My father and I watch it every Sunday together.
It’s kind of a tradition. When I go to High School, I’m going to try out for
the team. You’re looking at this school’s future quarterback!” Steve said this
with a smile, and he looked towards the kitchen as if he expected his dad to
have some telepathic ability to know when his son was talking about their
favorite father-son bonding topic.
His dad always encouraged his love for football, saying how “real men liked
sports,” and Steve’s interest in the game was going to make him “popular with
the ladies.” Steve didn’t really care much about being popular with girls, but
it was nice to have something to connect to with his father. Joseph was
extremely busy, and it sometimes felt like Steve never really had a chance to
talk to him. Football Sunday, however, was concrete. If there was a game on,
you could bet that Steve and his dad were sitting on the couch watching the
game and discussing their favorite plays and positions.
Bucky, contrasting Steve’s joyful grin, snorted and gave Steve a patronizing
glare. “You’re going to be the quarterback?” He blatantly looked Steve’s lanky,
prepubescent body up and down, disapproving with seemingly every muscle in his
face that he could use. “Yeah,” he laughed, “and I’m a superhero.”
That did it for Steve.
“I’m so sorry that I’m actually interested in something other than how my hair
looks or how many different ways I can make my face look as bitter as my
personality,” Steve snapped at the boy.
His body was always a sensitive subject, and it was when Bucky made that
comment that he knew he hated him. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but what Bucky said
really hurt him; he doubted his capability and felt limited by the skin and
bones that God gave him. Surrounded by a supporting and loving family who
always told Steve that his body didn’t define him, this was the first truly
hurtful comment that Steve received in regards to his physical appearance.
Bucky similarly seemed hurt by Steve’s comment, as well as surprised at Steve’s
sudden change in demeanor. However, he repressed any sadness and instead shot
back more insults, his go-to defense mechanism. He went for whatever he could:
Steve’s clothes, Steve’s body, Steve’s face. Anything that would make Steve
cross his arms that much tighter around himself.
It was no surprise that this situation ended with Bucky getting punched
straight in the nose, the small boy crying out while red irony liquid ran down
his face. Tears streaming down his cheeks, Bucky called for his mom as Steve
cradled his fist to his body and glared at him through a blurry lens, refusing
to let himself cry over some dumb kid’s worthless opinion.
Winifred rushed into the room and took a look at her son.
“Oh, Bucky, baby.” She ran over to him and crouched down so she was eye level
with the bleeding child. She wiped at her son’s tears as the rest of the adults
trailed into the room, wanting to see what all the commotion was about. “What
happened?” she asked.
“He hit me!” he wailed at his mother, jutting his finger out at Steve. Steve
jutted his chin up at him with a smug smile.
Sara went over to Steve and knelt in front of the small boy, “Steven Grant
Rogers,” she said lowly, “we are going to have a long talk about this when we
get home. This is unacceptable behavior.”
“But mom, he was-”
“I know you’re not about to talk back to your mother,” Joseph said with a
warning tone. He grabbed his son’s hand and forced him to his feet, walking the
both of them towards George, Winifred and Bucky. “Take Steve back to the car,
I’ll be out in a moment.”
Sara nodded as she briskly lead Steve out the front door; when Steve heard his
father apologizing to the Barnes’ in the background, accompanied by Bucky’s
small whimpers, he almost felt sorry.
That feeling was gone in an instant when he reminded himself of how terrible
Bucky had been to him, and ever since, he’s looked back on that day with a
sense of pride.
Steve and Bucky’s parents continued their strong friendship, planning frequent
visits at either of their homes and blindly hoping that one day the boys would
get along. Still, years later, the only time they’d been civil to eachother was
when Steve made Quarterback in his sophomore year of High School. Throughout
the eighth and ninth grade he suddenly hit the biggest growth spurt of his
life. With no warning, Steve was catching people’s attention, and he was
finally able to play his favorite sport without needing to take breaks every
fifteen minutes. When his family, as well as a few others including Bucky’s,
got together to celebrate, Bucky approached him, looking like he was
uncomfortable.
“Um.” He looked back at his mother, who gave him an award winning smile of
encouragement. He turned back to Steve and painfully said, “congratulations? I
guess I was wrong about you not being able to make it.”
Steve felt repulsed and disturbed by this out of character behavior, and the
only word he could muster up was, “Okay.”
Bucky broke a new record by rolling his eyes four different times before
turning away from Steve, muttering under his breathe about “fucking typical,
asshole,” as he returned to his fling-of-the-week’s side.
That was another thing. Not only did Steve hate Bucky for his nasty attitude,
but he stringed along guys like it was nothing. As soon as Bucky came out to
the world when he was 15, it seemed that he jumped right into the exploration
part of his gay-crisis, much at the expense of the boys he dated who, somehow,
always seemed to be much more invested in the relationship than their
significant other.
Steve was disgusted with Bucky, not because of who he was dating, but because
of how little respect he seemed to have for himself and the people he was with,
using them for at most a few weeks before breaking it off. It seemed like Bucky
knew this, and he purposefully initiated all forms of PDA other than actual sex
whenever he was in front of Steve.
Steve hated Bucky the most, though, because of how those actions made him feel.
Each time Bucky made out with a guy in front of him, Steve couldn’t stop
himself from sneaking a glance. He’d feel a tug in his chest as he tried to
look away, entranced in Bucky’s private smile or his hands that wandered. He
hated him, and he hated himself. He was not gay, and when he went home with an
unexplainable hardness in his pants, he had to remind himself of this fact.
Later that night as he pulled at his cock, mouth wide open and lips bitten, his
mind had kept drifting away from images of beautiful girls to images of
gorgeous blue eyes and short brown hair, all part of a slim, but definitely
male body. He was not gay. And when he came into his fist, a charming giggle
from cherry red lips ringing in his ears though he tried his hardest to picture
a feminine body underneath his, he reminded himself again. He was not gay. He
couldn’t be.
Bucky’s coming out was the only time where Joseph and George ever had an issue.
Joseph, a religious conservative man, was obviously uncomfortable with the
close association he had with the Barnes family after Bucky’s announcement.
They fought, talked it out, and Joseph apologized for the disrespect towards
George’s family. He has not commented on Bucky’s sexuality since, though Steve
can see his masked distaste whenever Bucky brings along one of his boyfriends
to a family get-together.
One day, as they were driving home, Steve asked his dad why he pretended he was
comfortable with Bucky being gay.
“Well,” Joseph said. “He’s not my son, Steve. I have no control over him. The
only teenager I need to think about is you, and with Peggy around I don’t think
I need to worry about your sexuality.” He chuckled, and Steve pursed his lips
together as the conversation ended. He felt a stinging at the back of his eyes,
though he wasn’t sure why. Or maybe he did and he just didn’t want to face what
was going on.
Two years later, Steve is a senior and Bucky is a junior. Their mutual hatred
for one another still prevails, as well as the feeling that Steve suppresses
every time Bucky bites his lip or does anything within his general vicinity. It
only makes him grow more frustrated and standoffish towards Bucky, though he
can’t find it in himself to feel any remorse. Bucky initiates arguments just as
much as Steve, and they’ve proven to their parents that their issues are deeper
than just some childish feud.
It doesn’t help that Steve actually shares some elective classes this year with
him, and he’s forced to witness Bucky’s insufferable behavior for 2 periods a
day. Bucky’s always the one to challenge the teacher or flirt with whomever is
sitting near him when he’s meant to be doing work. He’s the class clown, the
rebel, and the tease all wrapped in one package. And what makes it worse is
that, despite all of that, Bucky still gets good grades that Steve has to hear
Winifred and George brag about for a good ten minutes every time he goes over
to their house. Steve actually has to work hard for his grades, and the fact
that Bucky just effortlessly gets them with no thought makes him irrationally
hate the boy even more.
Bucky’s strange in terms of his social standing. Everyone knows him and many
like him, but he only hangs out with one person. Natasha Romanoff has been
Bucky’s best friend since childhood, and Steve has met her a few time when they
were simultaneously over at Bucky’s house for one thing or another. He actually
quite likes her, despite her intimidating demeanor, and he’s unsure of why she
hangs out with someone like Bucky. Other than her, Bucky’s a bit of a stranger
to those around him. Lots of guys have stories about dating him or hooking up
with him, but none of them really know him. Steve once heard some guy in the
locker room talking about how he hooked up with Bucky at a party, and the way
he talked about him made Steve’s blood boil. It wasn’t because he liked Barnes,
but he finds the pure objectification and sexualization of the kid
disrespectful and upsetting, and Bucky does nothing to stop it. If anything,
his continuous promiscuity seems to promote his infamy.
Steve, on the other hand, is extremely popular. Once he hit his growth spurt
and joined the football team, he gained a whole new group of friends. Some
people try to use him for status, but he has his own crew and they’re all good,
decent people who don’t let the number of likes they get on Instagram inflate
their ego. Except for Tony, but his ego was already inflated before he became
popular. Despite this, Steve still doesn’t have a girlfriend. He dated Peggy
for a while, but they both realized that, though they loved eachother, it
wasn’t in a romantic way. Other than that, he’s had nothing more than a few
casual hookups. For some reason, no one seems to really interest him.
Steve puts these trivial thoughts out of his mind, getting ready for his day at
school slowly and groggily. He’s exhausted from the four hours of sleep he got
the night before thanks to the long hours he spent studying for his AP
Psychology test. On top of that, he had a boat load of homework last night and
practice runs every day after school for two to three hours. Though senior year
has been relatively easy for Steve, there are times when things got a bit
stressful. Today’s one of those days.
Steve finishes changing and brushing his teeth, running downstairs to get some
breakfast before he has to go. Steve, if he wanted, could ask his family’s chef
to make him breakfast every morning, but that seems like something Bucky would
do and he never wants to be even half as dickish as Bucky. So, he grabs himself
a bowl of cereal and sits down. His mother comes in five minutes later as he’s
scrolling through his twitter and kisses him on the head.
“Good morning, love,” she says. Steve smiles up at her in response and returns
to his food. Sara makes a humming noise, raising her eyebrows. “Not very vocal
this morning. Long night?” She takes the brewed coffee from the machine and
pours two cups, handing one to Steve along with some sugar and cream.
“Thanks,” he forces out, his voice weak. “Yeah, I had a lot of studying to do
last night so I’m really wiped out. Feel pretty prepared, though.”
Sara smiles at her boy, pride evident in her face. “I’m sure you’ll do great,
honey. Could I ask for a favor?”
“Yeah, sure, what is it?” Steve brings his bowl to the sink, rinsing the milk
out and putting everything in the dishwasher before grabbing his coffee and
standing next to his mom.
“Well, not really a favor for me, more of a favor for Winifred,” she says
hesitantly. Steve narrows his eyes at her, suspicious of her next words. “It’s
just,” she starts, “Bucky got into a car accident with his friends over the
weekend. Not too bad, none of them are hurt, but he doesn’t have a way home
from school today because his car’s totaled. We’re having dinner with his
family tonight so could you take him with you back to our house, please?”
Steve immediately groaned and threw his head back. “Mom, it’s not like they’re
poor, can’t they pay a driver to do that or something? I really don’t want to
have to drive him home because he’s too busy doing god knows what to pay
attention to the road for the third time.”
“First of all, a drunk driver hit them. Second of all, this is not up for
debate. I don’t care if they can hire a driver, I told Winifred that you could
drive him and that’s that.” She uses her ‘Mom-voice’ that lets Steve know she
means business.
“Ugh, fine. But he’s going to have to sit through football practice,” he says
in a last ditch effort to get himself out of this.
“Already told Winifred that!” his mother sings as she walks out of the kitchen,
presumably to get ready for her own long day at work.
Steve looks up at the ceiling, hoping god will give him enough strength to sit
in a car with Bucky fucking Barnes for 15 minutes without tearing his head off.
He stands there for a few seconds before grabbing his keys and his backpack,
heading out the door.
When he arrives at school, he’s greeted at the entrance by Peggy, Tony, Clint,
and Jessica. Peggy’s the first to see him, waving him over with a smile. As he
drudges up to his friends, Tony whistles.
“Wow, Rogers. You didn’t even take the time to brush your hair this morning.
Long night?” He winks, wiggling his eyebrows incessantly up and down. “Who’s
the lucky lady?”
“My AP Psych textbook. She’s great, maybe I’ll introduce you two sometime.”
Steve says with a deadpan expression. Tony shakes his head, with wide eyes.
“No thank you! I’m not one for therapy.”
“Yes, we know, daddy issues and all that.” Jessica grumbles, but her eyes are
playful. She put on a mocking tone, mimicking Tony's voice with a whiny,“‘help
I’m rich and emotionally constipated.’” She pouts at Tony and he flicks her
nose while she swats his hand away with a grimace.
“Jokes on you, that barely covers my inner turmoil and the complexities of my
psyche,” Tony says smugly, putting his sunglasses back on his face with a grin.
Steve used to be uncomfortable with Tony’s willingness to joke about his dad
and the clear personal issues he faces, but he’s grown to learn to accept that
this is Tony’s way of dealing with it. In some unconventional and twisted way,
this is his version of talking about it.
It’s then that Steve notices Bucky heading towards them, laughing at something
Natasha says.
“Barnes!” He yells to get his attention. Bucky’s smile drops and he seems to
slow his steps as to increase the amount of time it will take him to reach
Steve.
“Oh well this should be interesting,” Peggy says excitedly with one raised
eyebrow.
“I want her to choke me to death with her thighs,” Clint blurts out, entranced
by Natasha and not at all focussed on whatever drama is going on between Steve
and Bucky. Peggy smacks him on his his head, pulling him out of whatever
fantasy he was stuck in.
“Don’t objectify her!” Peggy scolded, living up to her label of ‘renown
feminist.’ She had not only worked to loosen the school’s dress code, as she
said it was a clear demonstration of the sexualization of teenage girls, but
she also began the Women’s Empowerment Club at school, meant to encourage
feminism as well as spread awareness on Domestic violence in the United States.
Why she and Steve didn’t work out is a mystery to him.
Clint scoffed at Peggy as if she had just insulted him.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve also had plenty of fantasies where we adopt 10
dogs together. She’s not an object to me,” he sighs dreamily, watching Natasha
walk towards them, her arms crossed and looking ready to defend her best friend
if needed. “She’s everything,” Clint finishes.
“Barton, if you’re so into her, why is it that you’ve never actually talked to
her, like, ever?” Steve asks. Jessica points at him then gives a thumbs up in
an unspoken agreement while Tony says, “seconded.”
“Today’s the day, I’m feeling it guys.” Clint cracks the bones in his knuckles
and stands up. As Natasha and Bucky reach the group however, he walks straight
past them, mumbling about how he needs to see a teacher before class. Typical.
“What do you want?” Bucky asks passively, literally looking at his nails like a
cliche movie character.
“I’m taking you back to my house after school today because your family is
coming over for dinner. You’ll have to wait until football practice is over.
Oh, and congrats on crashing your third car!” Steve says each sentence as if
he’s checking off a list of things he needs to say for this conversation to be
over.
“It wasn’t my fault, fucker,” Bucky hisses at him, clenching his fists at his
side as Natasha puts a soothing hand on his bicep.
“Whatever you say, Barnes.” Steve smirks at him, stepping up from his previous
position leaning on the wall to tower over Barnes in a threatening manner.
After five seconds of glaring, Jessica groans and hits her head against the
wall of the building.
“If you two are done aggressively eye fucking and insulting eachother, I need
to take Steve to class. You know, the one we have a test in.” She says this
with a patronizing and unconcerned tone, standing up to begin the walk to
class.
“Thanks so much for the update,” Bucky says, his words full of sarcasm, while
Steve is still recovering from what Jess said. Bucky walks away, Natasha right
next to him.
“Wait up, Jess!” Steve runs to catch up to her. “I wasn’t eye fucking him. I’m
not into guys--and it’s Barnes!”
“Steve, it’s a joke. You don’t need to go all ‘no-homo’ on me.” Jess rolls her
eyes at him turning into the doorway of their classroom. “Good luck,” she
whispers, taking her seat as the teacher begins to hand out their tests.
~
 
Steve can’t focus. When he started practice an hour ago, he noticed Bucky
sitting on the bleachers doing his homework. He looked at the way Bucky was
twiddling his pencil in between his cushiony red lips and how his brow furrowed
in concentration while he tried to figure out the answer to whatever question
he was reading. Sam hit him on the head, telling him to concentrate on practice
while Steve felt the familiar tug when he was forced to tear his eyes away from
his enemy.
That was all fine and dandy, and Steve finally got into the mindset he needed
to work hard at the sport he loved. After about an hour, they got a quick water
break. When Steve snuck another glance at Bucky, his fist tightened a little
bit around his water bottle. Bucky was sitting extremely close to some senior
guy that Steve knew was in his art class, though he didn’t know his name.
Peter, maybe? It didn’t matter. But Bucky and him were pressed right up against
eachother, Bucky laying a hand on the guy’s thigh as he laughed at something he
said. Steve felt his jaw clenched tight with no reason, and he wondered why he
was getting himself so angry over this. He told himself it was because this was
a perfect example of Bucky’s disgusting sex addiction and his willingness to
play any guy that came remotely close to him. But Steve wasn’t sure if that was
really true, and he didn’t know what that meant.
Steve shook his head and put his bottle down, running back to the field and
trying to concentrate on what his coach was saying. Now, with twenty minutes
left in practice, he looks up and sees that neither Bucky nor the guy he was
just sitting with are in the bleachers. Instead of thinking about what that
implies, he throws himself into the scrimmage he and his team are playing,
putting all of his frustrations into his throws. At the end of practice, his
coach pulls him aside with a short, “Rogers!”
Steve jogs up to him, taking a sip from his water bottle before replying, “Yes,
sir?”
“You did well today, kid. But you seemed a little angry, everything okay with
you?” Coach Erskine has been like a second father to Steve. He’s tough and
disciplinary, but he’s like that only because he wants to see his players do
well. He’d been there to train Steve while he was in eighth grade, still pretty
skinny and only just starting to get a little bit taller. Every time Steve felt
like he wanted to give up and every time he said he couldn’t do it, Coach
always reassured him.
“It’s only when you’re confident about what’s in here,” he said, pointing to
the small boys chest, “that you can be confident about what’s out here.” He
gestured to Steve’s whole body. He went on to explain, “you will never be
successful until you believe that you can be successful.”
Those words have stuck with Steve ever since; it’s the motto he lives by right
now and the motto he hopes to live by for the rest of his life.
“Yeah, Coach. I’m just a little bit stressed about school stuff. Nothing to
worry about.” He gives his coach a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite reach
his eyes.
Coach gives him a suspicious look, but says, “Alright, well I’ll see you
tomorrow,” and that’s that.
Steve showers quickly and gathers up his things, leaving the locker room to
find Bucky. He checks the bleachers again and finds nothing, so he hesitantly
walks under them, covering his eyes when he recognizes the sound of choking and
quiet moans. With his eyes covered and a familiar clench in his jaw he says
bitterly, “Bucky, we’re going now so I’m going to need you to pause.”
He hears them both get themselves situated and Bucky walks over to him,
slapping his hand away from his eyes. “You’re literally ridiculous. Covering
your eyes? How old are you, ten?”
Bucky’s lips are swollen and wet, tears in his eyes and hair twisted up in
weird angles. He looks like the very definition of sin and debauchery, and
Steve has to clear his throat before he speaks.
“I don’t want to see whatever it was you were just doing. And really? Behind
the bleachers? Could you be any more cliche?”
Bucky scoffs, “It’s called a blowjob. At least I’m getting some, Rogers.” He
gave Steve an innocent questioning look. “When was the last time anyone touched
your dick? The stone age?”
He was right, it has been a while for Steve. He hadn’t done anything with
anyone since he hooked up with a girl in his AP Bio class, Darcy, at a party
three months ago. And even then, they hadn’t gotten much farther than a handjob
and some light frottage. Bucky’s observation only makes him angrier, snarling
at him with a final, “fuck off, Barnes.”
He starts walking to the car, Bucky giggling behind him in a way that makes
Steve hate himself for thinking of it as cute. They climb into the vehicle,
Steve throwing his stuff in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat.
For five minutes, there’s nothing but awkward silence. When Steve glances at
Bucky at a stop light, he’s just looking out the window at the trees on the
side of the road. The dim sunlight highlights his side profile; his delicate
eyelashes are apparent from this angle and a shadow cast upon Bucky’s
cheekbones makes them stand out even more so than usual. There’s something
feminine about Bucky’s features, yet still they hold hints of ruggedness,
exemplified in his chiseled jaw that inspires a desire in Steve to pick up a
pencil and capture these details on a page of his sketch book. He is both
beautiful and handsome, he is everything and more.
Suddenly, Bucky turns the radio on, putting on some dreadful pop songs and
blasting the volume. Steve looks away quickly so that Bucky doesn’t see him
staring, slowly accelerating as the light turns green.
“Did I say you could touch the radio?” Steve asks as he turns the volume down.
Bucky turns it back up and shouts, “I didn’t ask for your permission!” over the
sound of the loud music.
That’s how the rest of the drive goes, Bucky playing one terrible song after
another and Steve trying to ignore his annoyance and just suck it up, as he
wasn’t in the mood for another argument.
When they pull into the driveway, Steve shuts the car off and goes inside as
quickly as possible, wanting to avoid any and all interaction with Bucky by
hiding in his room. He’s stopped in his kitchen though when Bucky, out of
nowhere, yells at him, “Listen, I know you think I’m disgusting because I’m gay
but It’s my fucking life and I’m tired of you constantly giving me dirty looks
because you’re a fragile homophobic straight guy.”
What?
Steve whips around and gives him the most confused look he can make. “What are
you talking about? I don’t care that you’re gay, Bucky.”
It was Bucky’s turn to look confused. He walks closer to Steve, asking, “then
why do you always get nastier than usual when I’m making out with a guy in
front of you? I bring a boyfriend over and every single time you spend the
whole night staring at me like I’m the grossest thing you’ve ever seen. And
just now, with Peter. You were giving me that same look.”
“That’s not because you’re gay, Bucky. I just don’t like seeing you grope your
boytoys in front of me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know! It just annoys me, okay? Some people don’t want to see you
practically fucking a guy while there are others around to see it.”
Bucky looks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. The confusion on
his face is gone, replaced by an understanding of something about Steve that
Steve himself doesn’t even think he understands. There’s five seconds where
they just stand there, looking at eachother.
Steve recognizes the tension between them, but it’s a strange kind of tension.
This isn’t like when they normally fought. This is tension with a hint of
anticipation, but for what, he doesn’t know. His eyes find Bucky’s, and just as
he’s about to turn away and head upstairs to his room, confused by the whole
situation, Bucky surges forward and crushes his mouth to Steve's.
Steve feels like he’s being ripped apart. Half of his mind is telling him to
pull away, while the other half urges him to chase after the soft inviting
mouth, to wrap his hands around the other boy’s hips and draw him nearer, to
take what he wants. But he doesn’t know what he wants.
Another part of him, one that sounds a lot like his dad, tells him that this
isn’t it. You are not gay. He pulls away after a quick two seconds, though they
feel like a lifetime.
“What the fuck?” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Bucky looks lost, and for a brief moment, a little bit hurt. “I’m sorry. I
guess I interpreted that the wrong way.”
“Yeah, you did! I’m not fucking gay. Don’t pull that shit with me again.” He
took three huge steps back, trying to put distance between himself and Bucky.
“I said I was sorry, you don’t have to be a dick about it. I get it, you’re not
gay. It’s not like I’m into you or something, you’re not that great; I’m just
horny because I didn’t get to finish with that other guy, thanks to you.” He
says this with enough hatred that you would never guess that he had just tried
to initiate a kiss with Steve, and it makes Steve’s chest clench, a slight but
sharp pain. He tells himself he doesn’t care about Bucky’s words, but he sure
as hell doesn’t want to be around him right now, regardless of whatever family
dinner his mother has planned. He would deal with the repercussions later.
“I’m going out,” he says, gathering his jacket and heading back towards the
door. Bucky says nothing. Before he closes the door, he feels compelled to have
the last word. “And for the record, even if I was gay, you’re the last person
I’d sleep with.”
Steve closes it then, heading towards his car while Bucky is left standing in
the kitchen, clearing his throat with a bitter smile and moving to the porch to
alleviate himself with a cigarette, forgotten in his hand after five minutes of
staring at nothing.
End Notes
     barnesftrogers.tumblr.com
     Also I know Jessica isn't in the MCU but I love her v v v much and I
     wanted her to be in this :)
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