First of a series of fluff prompt fills on Tumblr. This one's for somethingformyself who requested "Bucky looking good in a t-shirt and jeans. People keep checking him out and Bucky thinks it's cute how Steve glares at people."
I enjoyed this way too much. Hint: I have a thing for jeans.
Steve's never really been one to over think the way he dresses.
Some fashion baffles him (what's the point of shorts that short?), while other aspects like hooded sweatshirts have become a favorite addition to his wardrobe. Slacks or khakis, a t-shirt or button down, with a jacket and comfortable shoes tend to suit him just fine.
Then he and Bucky moved into Avengers tower. Tony took one look at the three large duffel bags they had between them and immediately declared a shopping spree. Pepper was quick to step-in, getting their measurements and some color and style preferences then assuring them that she wouldn't go overboard.
Steve's willing to admit she's got good taste. His new wardrobe has a mix of casual and formal, all in styles that Steve could almost believe he picked out himself. He valiantly ignores the cost that likely went into updating and replacing their and Bucky have bonded over a love of graphic tees and converse.
He can admit that Bucky in a t-shirt is quite a tempting picture. The casual fit brings out some of the boyish charm Steve remembers Bucky having in the old days, a trait that's been making more and more of an appearance as Bucky grows comfortable in his own skin again.
The softness of the material under his fingertips and the warmth of Bucky's skin just beneath is an alluring bonus.
And then there are the jeans.
Jeans, Steve's decided, are the best and worst thing to come of 20th century fashion changes.
He remembers the jeans from before, high-waisted denim that were practical but didn't necessarily scream attractive. Now there are so many styles and colors that Steve's frankly a bit overwhelmed. There's a style for everyone.
And jeans on Bucky? Well, the only word Steve's able to come up with for that combination is sinful.
There's the pair of dark tapered jeans that bunch loosely around Bucky's thighs, tightening around the firm muscles of his calves further down. (Those same legs wrapping tight around his waist, cinching their bodies tightly together.)
Then there's the roughed up pair he wears all the time around the tower, artful tears revealing hints of skin and the fitted waist that draw Steve's eyes more often then he's willing to admit. (The delicious satisfaction of sliding his hands into those back pockets to grope freely as their teeth clash in a hungry kiss.)
And those slim black jeans Bucky saves for the times Tony drags them out for a night of drinking, clubbing and general abandon—the ones that are practically painted on and hug every inch of lean muscle and highlight each tantalizing swing of his best friend's hips on the dance floor? Yeah. Steve's pretty sure he deserves a medal for every minute he spends resisting the urge to tear the damn things from Bucky's frame so that he can map the skin beneath with his tongue over and over again.
Steve knows he's not alone in his avid appreciation of Bucky in casual wear.
He sees Nat's full body scans and approving grins when Bucky puts on something new. Sees the glint in the eyes of people they pass in the streets, men and women giving Bucky more than a fleeting glance of interest. Feels possessiveness flare whenever he catches the lust-dark looks that can only be called hunger when anyone else follows the (enticing, torturous) dip and sway of those hips as Bucky loses himself in heavy bass thumping from the speakers.
"Are you done oggling jealously from the sidelines, punk?"
Steve snaps from his thoughts, the frown he'd didn't realize had formed smoothing away as Bucky's laughing blue eyes meet his. There's a challenge written in that crooked grin, in the way that Bucky backs into the throng of dancers again, just out of Steve's reach.
Steve follows, drawn by the invisible tether that allows him to pick Bucky out of any crowd.
Bucky's already swaying seductively when Steve catches up, eyes closed and head titled so his neck is bared, lips parted ever so slightly. Steve hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Bucky's jeans and tugs him forward with a growled, "Jerk." He cuts Bucky's chuckle short by claiming his mouth, tongue immediately slipping in to devour the heady taste of his best friend. Bucky responds with equal fervor.
The rest of the world may get to admire Bucky in his (unfairly attractive) jeans and t-shirts, but Steve is the one who gets to strip them off piece by piece to enjoy the exquisite body beneath.
Let them look Steve thinks smugly, and grips Bucky's hips tighter.
