Ey-o! I saw a thing on tumblr, as per usual, tbh, and I got brainwave.
Disclaimer : I don't own Captain America, or any of marvel's characters. Damn shame.
Bucky has been back six months, and it's been real swell and all, but people casting his metal arm weird looks or flinching when he and Steve ramble about when they were kids, or when he even mentions the winter soldier, is getting old, fast.
So he forces everyone out for burgers, after a work out which ended with him punching a hole in the floor with his prosthesis.
Accidently, of course. Tony had thrown a chair at his head. The guy plays dirty. He respects that.
He covers up the metal arm with a long sleeved top, made of a material that Tony had had to invent in order to avoid snagging on the sections of metal as the arm moves, and took him a week. He had emerged from his lab holding a swatch of fabric, grinning and smoke smudged, although Bucky didn't, and still doesn't know how in the seven hells someone can blow themself up inventing clothes.
The team cram themselves into a booth, a long one usually occupied by teenagers who don't want to split their group. Bucky is pressed up against Steve comfortably, thighs and hips and all along their ribs, and Steve's arm, now that he is bigger than Bucky, is slung loosely over the back of the bench seat. Natasha and Clint are sitting in the same fashion, though Natasha has looped her arm around the archer's waist in a possessive manner. Bruce and Tony might as well be speaking in tongues, as far as Bucky is concerned; the scientific jargon pouring from their mouths is completely incomprehensible to him.
Maria has wedged herself in next to Bruce, and Jane and Darcy have appeared from nowhere and have jammed themselves in on Steve's other side. Thor is away in Asgard, and won't be back for weeks.
The waitress is whispering in the corner with her friend, and Bucky lip reads, it's the Avengers, and, I don't know who the tag-alongs are.
Well. Tag-alongs indeed. Bucky makes a mental note not to tip her.
The waitress swans over, batting her eyelashes at Steve and cocking a hip over-dramatically, blatantly attempting to catch the attention of Captain America. Steve doesn't even notice, turning to Bucky and prodding him in the shoulder affectionately.
"What do you want, Buck?" He scans the menu briefly, settles on a chocolate shake and a burger, no cheese.
"No cheese. Unnatural." Steve scoffs, but orders the same, with cheese. The waitress's face falls as his arm settles around Bucky's shoulders, but she takes the rest of their orders pleasantly enough, walking away with none of the strut she had on the way over.
"She's sweet on you." Bucky mutters sourly. Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks at him.
"Well, she can't have me." He says cheerfully. "I distinctly remember someone else having me, just last night, in fact."
Bucky grins at the memory, images of last night filling his head. He blinks, tries to will his arousal away, but the warm hand Steve has atop his thigh is not helping matters. He had almost forgotten Steve's dirty sense of humour, and can't fathom why the team were surprised when he had regaled them with a tale of a nun, a rabbi, and the pope. Not that he knows which pope they're actually on, now. Fondly, he recalls the occasion on which Steve startled a soldier so much with his raunchy sense of humour that he had walked smack into a pole and knocked himself out. Bucky had laughed so much that his ribs hurt, that day, and it remains one of his best memories to date.
Not that 'to date' means much, bearing in mind he missed the better part of seventy years, buried, discarded under the sharp, icey façade of the winter soldier.
"Goddamn, I wish she'd hurry up." Tony whines, tapping frenetically on the table top. Bruce slaps his hand gently, stilling the rapid motion of his hand.
"I'd give my left arm for a burger, right now." Bucky says, with a calculated flattening of his metal fingers on the table.
Silence.
Tony blinks at him, Clint looks like he wants to cry, Darcy is already chortling silently, though he is the only one who notices, and Natasha, Bruce, Jane, and Steve have frozen, tension clearly lining their shoulders.
Until Steve lets out an almighty snort, inelegantly sprawling on the table and laughing raucously, so hard he goes near silent and tears stream down his face.
This appears to be the signal for Darcy to let out a squeak and cackle in a way that reminds Bucky of a goose. She is clutching her ribs, sizable bosom heaving prettily, and if he wasn't so gone on Steve, he'd consider tapping that; doll's stacked.
Fortunately, he's far more interested in the way that Steve is gasping silently and attempting to catch his breath, pink lips parted and shiny where he's licked them.
The rest of the team are falling apart noisily; Natasha and Clint are swearing loudly and fluently in various foreign languages, falling on each other, Bruce and Tony are nearly sliding under the table from the force of their amusement, and Jane, albeit tiny, is making the most noise of all of them. Maria actually has fallen off the bench, and hasn't made any attempt to get up, instead choosing to prop her arms on her knees and wheeze her approval of his joke.
The waitress picks that moment to bring their food over, and sends them all odd looks, minus Steve, who she sends a longing, lust filled look, that Steve doesn't even notice, as per usual, and Bucky nestles into Steve's arm, pecking him on the cheek cheerfully.
Steve stops laughing just long enough to press a kiss against his lips, and immediately goes back to falling about laughing. The waitress glares, and flounces off.
He stopped some broad from making a pass at his guy, and made the team more comfortable about his arm. Damn, he's good.
He's also so hot for Steve, he's surprised he hasn't convinced Steve to fool around in public yet.
Yet being the operative word.
"Oi, Jerk." Steve pokes him. "Eat your burger so I can take you home. I'm hungry for something a little different, now."
"You're on, punk."
Steve teases him for getting hiccups, and he ribs him right back when he stumbles and trips, missing the edge of the bed by inches.
Pretty good day, all in all.
Now if he can get Steve to do that thing with his tongue from last night, he'll be pretty dang grand.