Steve has never snuck out after his curfew before and he wouldn't have done it if it weren't for his friend Tony. There had been some big talk about a new band that Steve evidently just had to hear. To be honest, Steve wasn't particularly interested in the punk genre but he was willing to give it a listen if it meant that Tony would finally shut up about it.
But when Steve was finally able to sneak out after his step-dad went to sleep and he arrived at the address, Tony was no where in sight. There were a bunch of kids around his age milling around and getting up to god knows what. He thought maybe his friend was merely late, so Steve waited outside for a half hour or so. Still, there was no sight of Tony anywhere and Steve stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets in discontent.
"Great. Just my luck," Steve mutters to himself.
Steve had half a mind to just cut his losses and go home before his step-dad figured out he was gone, but then music started to play from inside the club. It was somewhat muffled but it was enough to arouse his curiosity and lure him in nonetheless. It wouldn't hurt to at least take a look. It'd only be for a song or two.
Steve walks through the somewhat crowded entrance, having to squeeze his small frame through the writhing bodies hopping to the beat of the music. The club itself wasn't very spacious to begin with and it made the air around him close and stuffy. It probably wasn't the best place to be considering his asthma, but Steve was smart enough to bring his inhaler. He didn't need Bruce, his step-father, getting a call from the hospital anytime soon.
Steve was too short to see over most of the people and had no idea where he was until he hit the edge of the stage. The young people around him pushed and bumped against him to the point where Steve was being crushed against the stage, but luckily the crowd relented a bit when the song eventually faded and the band kick started into another.
Steve gripped onto the edge and peered up at the band as they jerked and gyrated around the stage. They all had similar haircuts and they wore leather jackets. It was as if they were trying to portray the effect of wearing a uniform. Steve kind of liked the idea of that.
The lead singer stood before them like a giant, towering over the audience as his voice cracked and deepened intentionally, giving their music a unique voice. The guitarist was firmly rooted to the ground in a stance as his hands doled out a fast riff with a perpetual scowl across his face. The bassist hopped around as he tried to keep up with the guitarist and the drummer sustained the rhythm with an equally fast tempo.
But Steve was absolutely mesmerized by it all. He never heard anything like it before and ended up staying for more than a couple songs. The music itself was fast and each song barely lasted for more than two minutes. By the time Steve had got there, he nearly heard the full set after just ten minutes. They certainly wasted no time in giving the people what they wanted. They didn't even pause in between songs, at least not for long anyway.
In the middle of one of their songs, Steve got up on the tips of his toes and glanced around the vicinity of the club. There were a lot of unique individuals, to say the least, who had crazy hair and wore torn clothes or as his friend put it "DIY". There was one person in particular who caught his eye amongst the crowd, though.
He was standing at the other side of the stage, hopping slightly to the music as people carelessly knocked into him. His hair was black and spiked messily in conflicting directions as if he had woke up that morning and didn't bother to comb it out. Steve couldn't tell what he was wearing but it looked similar to a lot of "DIY" stuff, he supposed.
Steve watched the other man for longer than he intended and smiled slightly when the messy haired man started to chant the words to some song about not wanting to go down to the basement. Or, you know, something among that nature. It was too fast to keep up with when Steve was so taken by the man.
During the midst of all the excitement and noise the man Steve had been watching turned his head and caught his eye from across the way. He gave Steve a brief smirk as if being stared at was a normal occurrence for him and it probably was. He was rather handsome despite looking like he hasn't showered in a week.
It seemed like the punk was trying to work his way through the crowd to get to Steve but when the band's set was done Steve was pushed with the rest of the crowd, being forced out of the building without wanting to. Steve lost sight of the man after that even as he tried to rebel against the majority of the crowd.
Once Steve was outside he realized he had been led out of a side door instead of the front, leaving him in an alley. He was able to breathe again and was a little relieved by the fact, but he didn't know where the man who had caught his eye went. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disheartened by this. He wasn't sure if he should stick around and wait or just go home.
The crowd dispersed for the most part, leaving Steve all alone for the moment, and he had the notion of circling around to the front to meet up with that guy but never got the chance to. Steve ran into someone he went to school with. Someone who wasn't always on the best terms with him.
His name was Gilmore Hodge and he was an asshole of the jock kind. Steve had been terrorized by him on many occasions for being gay, but this was all based on a hunch since no one knew Steve was gay, aside from his friend Tony and Tony would never sell him out like that.
Gilmore grabbed Steve roughly by the front of his button up shirt, yanking him in close before shoving him into the wall forcefully. The sharp collision knocked Steve's spine the wrong way and it left him slightly out of it for a moment or two.
"I always figured a faggot like you would be obsessed with that kind of garbage music," Gilmore spat almost instantly.
"I guess that explains why you're here then," Steve retorts, coughing slightly from the impact.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Gilmore demands, grabbing Steve by the shirt again.
"Nothing," Steve dismisses nonchalantly, readying himself for the punch he knows is coming. "Just wondering what kind of business a straight, rock n' roll loving, jock has at a place like this..."
"Are you calling me a faggot?" Gilmore accuses aggressively, getting the hint of Steve's taunt.
"I'm surprised someone with your intellectual disadvantage actually caught onto that," Steve mocks with faux praise.
Steve was thankful that he was able to at least get one more retort in before he was punched hard in the gut. The force of it was enough to pick Steve off the ground, causing his breath to rush out in a pained grunt. When Steve regained some of his former stance he raised his arms up for protection, but it did him no use. Gilmore's fist landed a couple more blows across his face until they finally stopped.
"Hey!" A man yelled from the entrance of the alleyway, causing Steve and Gilmore to look over. It was the man from inside the club and he stood broadly and defiantly. "Why don't you pick on someone who can actually defend themselves?"
"This doesn't concern you, pal," Gilmore threatens, scowling in disgust as if the young punk is beneath him somehow. "Why don't you take a number and I'll be with you in a second."
"There's not a chance in hell I'm waiting for you. You're gonna have to deal with me now, cupcake," the punk orders and Steve swears that it makes him swoon a little.
"Your type just don't know when to stop, do you?" Gilmore asks rhetorically, pushing Steve away to stalk over towards the punk. "How many of you faggots do I have to knock some sense into before you learn?"
It's safe to say that, that is the final insult Gilmore is able to get in before the punk is throwing well-aimed punches at him. Steve watches from the ground as his savior doles out a beating on Gilmore and all Gilmore can do is try to block the fists as they rain down on him.
The punk grabs ahold of Gilmore and chucks him out onto the main street, kicking him in the ass to send him on his way with his tail between his legs. No one else seems to question this or even mind for that matter. Not their business, not their problem as far as they're concerned.
The man turns back to Steve who is still cowering by some garbage bins and walks over to him. He comes to a stop in front of Steve, offering a helping hand down to him, but Steve is a little wary of this at first even though he has no reason to be. The punk smirks a little, like he did earlier in the club, but does retract his hand.
"I may look like I'm up to no good, but I can assure you that I'm sweet as a gumdrop," he remarks wryly, hoping that a joke would be enough to loosen Steve up.
"Sorry," Steve apologizes with a shake of his head. He takes the man's warm hand and is helped to his feet. "I don't mean to insult you after what you just did for me. My head must've got knocked the wrong way."
"It's cool, tiger. I get it. Can't be too careful," he reassures as Steve dusts himself off. He offers the shorter man a proper hand this time to introduce himself. "I'm Bucky, by the way."
"Steve," he reciprocates, shaking Bucky's hand and noticing the split skin on his knuckles. "Your hand looks pretty dinged up."
"Yeah?" Bucky humors, looking over his bruised knuckles with a playful look. "You should see the other guy's face."
"I probably will tomorrow," Steve comments.
"Why? Does he live in your neighborhood or something?"
"No, he's just some asshole I go to school with," Steve brushes off without caution.
"Oh... You, uh, still in highschool?" Bucky inquires, stepping a little closer to Steve as he crosses his arms over his chest.
"Unfortunately..." Steve sighs with a blush.
Bucky's much more dominating and looming presence makes Steve's stomach queasy in the best way possible. He is absolutely overpowering in every sense of the word, but not in a way that makes Steve feel in danger.
"Are you always allowed out this late on a school night?" Bucky flirts, letting his charisma charm Steve further. But not in a macho jerk way.
"No," Steve admits with a nervous smile. Bucky makes him feel so giddy that it's uncanny. "I actually snuck out. It's my first time doing it as well."
"Well, don't worry. I won't rat you out. Your secret's safe with me, tiger," Bucky promises, winking at Steve and giving him another charming smile that could break a thousand hearts. "How old are you anyway?"
"I'm seventeen," Steve tells him a little timidly. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to be out without a curfew," Bucky wisecracks, making Steve chuckle. "Honestly though, I'm twenty-three. Does that scare you? Hanging around with an older guy?"
"Should I be scared?" Steve inquires, getting a little flirtatious.
Bucky grins widely, biting slightly on his bottom lip as he becomes more and more taken with Steve and his perpetual innocence. He's never wanted to take anyone home more than he wants to take Steve home right now. Bucky is snapped out of his musings when he notices Steve start to tremble.
"Are you cold?" Bucky inquires.
"What?" Steve asks dumbly after getting lost in Bucky's smile.
"You're shivering," Bucky points out.
He's right. It was pretty cold out and Steve was shivering despite wearing his jacket, but I guess that's the disadvantage of being so smaller than most people. Steve consciously wraps his arms around himself to keep warm but Bucky is already shrugging off his leather jacket for him.
"Here, you can have mine," Bucky offers, throwing his jackets around Steve's slender shoulders like a gentleman.
"I couldn't-" Steve begins to protest out of embarrassment.
"Letting you freeze is not an option," Bucky argues, ignoring Steve's willful pride.
"Are you sure?" Steve asks warily when he sees Bucky is only wearing a muscle shirt with an obscure band on the front.
"Yeah," Bucky encourages, gesturing with his hand in a laid back expression. "I don't live too far from here anyway."
Steve reluctantly accepts it with an embarrassment, yet thankful, grin, pulling it around himself and nestling his small frame into it. The jacket itself smells relatively okay despite Bucky looking rather unwashed. It smells mainly of sweat but there is also a faint smell that is entirely Bucky somehow. Maybe shampoo? Cologne, perhaps? Either way, Steve feels safe with it around him.
"Speaking of which, I was just about to leave actually," Bucky elaborates, hoping to peak Steve's curiosity further. "Do you wanna come over and keep me company? We could listen to some records or something?"
"I'm not sure..." Steve trails off, feeling his heart race even faster when Bucky casually plants a hand against the brick wall next to Steve's head. "I really shouldn't stay out-"
"Yeah, well, it's too late for that. You're already here so what would be the damage?" Bucky insists, finding faults in every excuse Steve can come up with.
"I guess you have a point," Steve capitulates, giving Bucky a meek smile.
"Then it's settled," Bucky says without further adieu.
He extends a bruised hand towards Steve and the short man takes it without question. They walk away together hand in hand as Bucky leads the way. They keep silent for a couple of blocks, just enjoying the sounds of Brooklyn and the comfort of each other's gentle touch. Steve doesn't know what he's doing. He's never been with a guy before, let alone go home with one. No, Steve thinks, I don't have to do anything if I don't want to.
"So, do you like The Ramones?" Bucky asks when they reach the corner of the street to wait for cars to pass.
"Who?" Steve inquires at a loss.
"The band that was playing tonight. The Ramones," Bucky clarifies with an amused grin. "Did you like them?"
"Oh, sure," Steve says after a moment of contemplation. "I thought they were pretty good considering the genre."
"I take it you don't get out too often," Bucky observes, finding himself falling in love with his naivety.
"Not regularly," Steve admits, blushing because he sounds like a total loser compared to Bucky. "I was supposed to meet up with my friend Tony. I probably never would have went otherwise."
"He must be some friend to get you to do something you wouldn't normally do," Bucky discerns, giving Steve a curious gaze and hinting at something else altogether.
"Not that kind of friend," Steve assures, laughing shortly at the thought. "Just really fluent in twisting my arm. I hoped it would finally shut him up. Should've known he was going to flake."
"At least something good came out of it, though," Bucky says as they start walking again.
"And what's that?" Steve asks even though he already knows the answer.
"You wouldn't have met me if he hadn't twisted your arm," Bucky replies with a cheeky smirk and this earns him a small shove from Steve.
A few minutes later they finally reach Bucky's apartment. Bucky leads Steve up the stairs to the third floor where Bucky takes out his keys and unlocks the door, letting it swing open on rusted hinges. It isn't the nicest or cleanest place but it seems manageable and it helps that Bucky seems to light up every place he goes.
"Home sweet home," Bucky says, making a gesture for Steve to enter.
Steve walks in, sliding Bucky's jacket off his shoulders and handing it back to it's rightful owner. The light inside his apartment is much more reliable the the streetlights and Steve is finally able to see Bucky in his entirety and he is not disappointed in the least.
Bucky's hair happens to be a dark brown and not black like Steve had previously thought, but that didn't matter much to him. He had a tattoo of a red star on his left shoulder as well. Bucky was pale and there were dark circles under Bucky's eyes as if he hadn't slept in days, but he was still undoubtedly attractive in every sense.
"Sorry..." Bucky apologizes instantly as he cringes at the mess he forgot was there, or everywhere for that matter. "Loki is kinda a slob. Thinks he rules the world or something asinine like that."
"Loki?" Steve inquires with a curious inflection.
"It's my roommate's stage name. He insists that everyone calls him that. Has to do with norse mythology," Bucky informs him. He walks further inside after shutting the front door and motions towards another door. "My room's just over here."
Steve follows him wordlessly and he can't control the way his hands start to shake and sweat profusely. He never expected his night to pan out like this and he's suddenly glad that Tony didn't show up after all. Fate has a funny way of working like that, Steve supposes.
Bucky opens up the door to his room and Steve is absolutely gobsmacked to see it covered wall to wall with various band posters. Some Steve has heard about and others he hasn't. Other than that his room was rather simple with a dresser or two and a bed which is essentially a mattress on the floor. Steve spots a bass guitar near one of the corners and his face lights up slightly.
"Do you play?" Steve asks, hooking a thumb in the direction of the bass.
"Yeah, I'm actually in a band myself," Bucky professes.
"You guys any good?"
"You should come see us play sometime. Judge for yourself," Bucky offers tossing his jacket on one of his dressers. "You thirsty?"
"I'm fine."
Bucky walks over to his bed and sits down, untying his boots and throwing them towards the general direction of his closet. Steve still stands near the door, watching as Bucky leans over to his nightstand to retrieve a little kit. Steve eyes it precariously when Bucky goes to unzip it and pulls out a hypodermic needle with discolored liquid in it.
Bucky sets it down for a moment so he can undo his belt and fasten it around his left bicep. Steve furrows his eyebrows and steps a little closer, noticing the various track marks that lead Steve to believe Bucky has done this on multiple occasions. Bucky tenses up his arm and gets his vein ready for shooting up.
"What are you doing?" Steve asks as Bucky sticks the needle in his arm without even flinching. Steve grimaces at the sight. "What is that?"
"Something to give me a little balance," Bucky says as if it's the least cryptic thing ever.
Bucky pulls the plunger slightly to mix his blood with the smack before shooting it into his veins. He gasps at the initial wave washing over him and he moans a little at the feeling before he pulls the needle out and puts it away. The belt around his bicep loosens and slides off his arm.
"Isn't that stuff dangerous?" Steve questions with worry.
"Yeah, if you don't know what you're doing," Bucky chuckles. "Do you want to try it?"
"No, thanks," Steve declines, grimacing slightly at the thought.
"Yeah... The needle would probably go right through your arm anyway," Bucky remarks dryly. He motions Steve over with a wave of his hand. "Come here."
Steve is reluctant at first but concedes all the same because despite this hiccup, Steve is willing to turn a blind eye to this particular character flaw. He sits down on the mattress right next to Bucky, looking straight ahead when Bucky reaches out to caress Steve's prominent cheekbone in admiration.
"When I saw you standing there in the club I knew I had to meet you," Bucky gushes with nonsense because his drug addled brain is spewing thoughts he couldn't say on his own. "So naive and innocent. So beautiful."
"You don't mean that," Steve brushes off with bashfulness, letting Bucky toy with his hair.
"Sure I do," Bucky protests, stroking Steve's hair and cupping the back of his neck tenderly.
They lock gazes when Bucky turns Steve's face towards his, smiling subtly as his pupils dilate from his injection as well as arousal. Steve lets Bucky lean in to kiss him and Steve melts into the contact immediately, swooning at how wonderful a kiss can feel. Steve has never been kissed before and Bucky doesn't disappoint him.
Bucky deepens the kiss by opening his mouth to plunder Steve's with his tongue and gets a surprised little noise in return. Steve doesn't know what to do with his hands so he keeps them by his sides the whole time, hoping Bucky knows better than him. Of course he knows better, Steve scolds himself, Bucky has done this before unlike you.
Bucky scoots in closer, laying a hand against one of Steve's thighs and pulling him in even closer by the base of his skull. He wants to taste Steve's mouth more thoroughly until his lips and tongue start to go numb from the act. Steve can't help but moan as he tries to keep up with Bucky's overzealous attitude.
Their precision, or lack thereof, was starting to dwindle when Bucky's hand goes elsewhere to cup Steve's groin through his pants. The contact makes Steve jump a little because this, too, is his first time being touched by another human being and it feels too good to be true.
Steve starts to feel himself getting turned on by Bucky's persistence. Bucky's hand is steady even after him shooting up with god knows what. Steve gets uncomfortably hard within his pants and Bucky doesn't help in the slightest when he squeezes his erection.
He arches wantonly into Bucky's body without meaning to and Bucky takes this as a hint to go further. He lays Steve down across the width of his bed, kissing him more fervently and sloppy when he becomes too rapt in Steve's moans. He presses his own hard on into Steve's thigh, humping it slightly to gain some pleasurable friction.
Steve's hands come up to fist in Bucky's muscle shirt, attempting to push him back so he can breathe and get a word or two in before Bucky gets too carried away. Bucky's muddled brain gets the memo and he stops almost immediately soon after. He sits up quickly panting from arousal and exertion, looking down at Steve in a mixture of shame and guilt.
"I'm so sorry," Bucky gushes nervously, wiping the saliva from his lips. "I just wanted to kiss you. I'm usually not this forward the first time... M'sorry."
"It's fine," Steve dismisses, sitting up as well to straighten himself out. His erection is painfully hard and denying it release is not helping at all. "I, uh, should get going anyway. It's really late and I have school in the morning."
"You're not just saying that because things got a little outta hand are you?" Bucky presses, fearing that he might be scaring Steve away.
"No, of course not. I actually do have school in the morning," Steve protests, putting a hand on Bucky's leg to reassure him. "I'd really love to see you again, Bucky. But I have to go, okay?"
I shouldn't have done that in front of him, Bucky scolds internally, kicking himself for almost blowing it with Steve. And taking advantage of him like that? What the hell was I thinking? Oh, wait... I wasn't.
"Wait!" Bucky calls out when Steve stands up and turns to leave. Bucky gets up and grabs his leather jacket, handing it to Steve. "It's still cold outside. You'll need this"
"I'll be fine," Steve reassures him, politely rejecting Bucky's selfless gesture.
"Well, at least take this with you then," Bucky says, opting to grab his Ramones self-titled album he had on vinyl. "You could study up in the meantime. Tell me what you think the next time I see you."
"What if I won't have time to listen to it because I want to see you tomorrow? What then?" Steve inquires, flirting a slightly to break the tension a little.
"Then we'll just have to listen to it tomorrow," Bucky says, smiling with promise. "I could pick you up after school and everything."
"I'd like that," Steve says honestly.
"Then it's a date."
Bucky grabs Steve by the wrist and pulls him in to give him a chaste kiss, pouring every bit of emotion into it so Steve knows how serious he is. Steve is swept away by Bucky's dominating presence that demands the utmost attention. Steve is still a little peeved by Bucky's use of needles, but he supposes nobody is perfect. After all, he sees it happen everyday around him in various ways.
"Be careful, okay?" Steve softly pleads, running his fingertips over Bucky's track marks.
Bucky's jaw clenches reflexively at the comment and it also looks as if he's guilty about using for the first time in his life. Nobody has ever expressed concern about it before and the fact that it was Steve of all people made him suddenly regret doing it altogether.
"I know," Bucky agrees, nodding along to Steve's mild form of scrutiny. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Steve gives him one last smile before clutching the Ramones record to his chest and departing from Bucky's room with a slight bounce in his step. Bucky can hear the front door open and then close from the other room and he shrinks back to his bed as a wave of euphoria takes him away.
Steve is back out on the street as he starts to make his way home after a very eventful night. It was much more quiet now and it was relatively cold still. Steve wishes now he would've taken Bucky's jacket, but that would just be one more thing to explain to Bruce.
By the time Steve does get home it's much later now but if Steve goes to bed immediately he'll at least get five hours of sleep. Steve, of course, does the whole stereotypical sneaking in after a long night routine and sure enough, there is Bruce sitting on the couch waiting for him.
"Where have you been?" Bruce inquires sternly from where he sits, looking disappointed as ever.
"I was at Tony's," Steve lies, knowing that the truth would get him into more trouble than it's worth. "He wanted to lend me this record."
"Is that so? He couldn't have lent that you at school in the morning?" Bruce questions, not buying the excuse for a minute.
"I guess not, sir."
"And what is that?" Bruce asks when he notices the black eye forming on Steve's left eye. "What have I told you about fighting, Stevie?"
"I'm sorry, sir. Please don't be disappointed in me," Steve begs for forgiveness, hanging his head down in shame.
Bruce frowns a little at this display of submission and guilt and caves.
"Come here," Bruce says and Steve complies immediately. Bruce stands up and hugs Steve tightly. "I'm not mad. I was just worried about you. You're a good boy, Steve. Just make sure this doesn't happen again, okay? You've come too far to blow it all now."
"I know, sir," Steve complies, hugging his step father back. He feels a little bad for worrying Bruce but Bruce is a good guy and he doesn't scold him excessively. "I'm sorry."
"Now get to bed," Bruce tells him, dismissing Steve from his presence as he follows his own advice.
And later when Steve has brushed his teeth and finally situated himself, he puts on Bucky's Ramones record.
He falls asleep to "Judy is a Punk" playing in the background.