To: Stevie

Need you.


Three long minutes for him to reply.


From: Stevie

What's happened?


To: Stevie

Your idiot friend the cyborg, happened. I'm walking the rain, no money for a taxi.


And just because she didn't think he got the severity of her situation, she sent:


I need a hero.


From: Stevie

You don't need a hero, you're your own hero.
I'll be with you shortly.
Where are you?


She knew crying because she was tired was a lousy excuse, but the rain soaking her hair was making her screen blur even more than tears were. She took a photo of the name of the cafe she'd holed up in, and he sent:


I know it. Ten minutes.


She proceeded to sniff up her remaining misery and sink into a warm lounge chair. If Steve said he was coming, she would wait. The only problem was, she was left waiting an hour, so her decision to order a slice of cake and hot chocolate with no money in her pockets was making her sweat paying the bill.

He did arrive, finally, though he wasn't alone.

"The actual fuck?" she got to her feet.

Jessica flinched behind his arm.

"Hang on, hear me out."

"Uh-" she wanted to deny him the chance. But he was so earnest, puppy eyed and waiting so patiently for her reply. She made a strangled: "Yeah, whatever." noise, and Steve took a seat, after pulling one out for Jessica, who promptly took hold of his arm in both her ugly hands.

"We've talked." Steve said placidly. "We're okay. We've both apologised."

"I'm not okay with this." Darcy tossed out there.

"You're not in this relationship." Jessica offered, somewhat timidly.

"Bitch-" Darcy leveled her with a dark look. "-do not presume to speak to me because I haven't clawed your stupid face off."

"Darcy." Steve said gently. "Show a little maturity."

"Like maybe I should smash a photo over her head?" Jessica flushed with colour, but Darcy was steaming mad, still boiling over from the fight she'd had with Bucky. "Tell me, did you say 'sorry' to the frame? Did it go back to the way it was? Hm? No? So why is this any different?"

"Because I am a person, with my own opinions and feelings," Steve said. "And I heal."

"I didn't throw it at him," Jessica told her. "I threw it at the wall. It sort of... sailed on the wrong angle. You've got to believe me."

"Why? Why do I 'got' to?"

Usually, the New York drawl she found her housemates encompassed in was endearing. But when the blonde woman offered it, her inner grammar Nazi just about shot her for treason.

"Well..." she swallowed, glanced at Steve before looking back at Darcy. "I don't so much as like hurting plants. Why would I hurt Steve on purpose?"

It made sense. But still.

"Because you're a psycho bitch."

"Darcy." Steve said, but Darcy was not looking to be lectured, or to make peace. She was angry, and she wanted Steve to be angry too. She wanted him to not be with the rail thin, blonde woman with too many morals, she wanted Steve to be with -

"I have to go. Pay for my cake." she stepped around them, leaving his jacket on the chair.

"Darce-" he only tried to grab her hand. He nearly got her, too, and she hated to think what might've happened had he managed that. She was pretty sure she would've just fallen apart.

"Please don't touch me." she jerked her arm, which hurt her shoulder. Clinging to it with her free hand, she looked up at him, now standing, looking lost, soft. "I-...Steve, just don't, right now."

"Darcy, stay. You said you needed me. I'm here."

"She's here too." she shot back, with malice only inclined at her, not him. "The last thing I want to do is leave you alone with her-... But you're in public, so you should be okay."

"You said you needed me." he reminded her.

"Turns out I'm my own hero after all."

And she left in a rush, nearly crashing into a waitress as she went.


Steve and Jessica spent maybe another hour together at the cafe, talking quietly, holding hands. Then he hailed a cab and sent her home, citing that Darcy was a priority in his life, and part of the proviso of their second try was that he be allowed to treat Darcy as he would treat any male friend.

He had the idea in his head that Bucky had wounded her - but then he checked home first to see if she was there. She wasn't, though Bucky jogged around the corner to see who was home. His expression soured - he took note of the leather jacket and frowned.

Steve turned his back, hanging it up on a peg.

"So you've seen Darcy then?"

"Yeah. What happened this time?"

"I, uh... It was my fault. I think I read too much into something. It's in my nature, not a lot I can do about it." he shrugged.

"Huh." was Steve's reply. "She isn't here?"

"No. She hasn't been answering my texts."

"Mine either." Steve rubbed his hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and decided to use that as an excuse not to look directly at Bucky, who was scrutinizing him from afar. "I-... I'm gonna have a shower, wait five minutes, then go look for her."

"Library?"

"Yeah. Maybe Stark Tower."

"So Jane's pregnant?"

Steve turned, eyebrows hiked.

"She is?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure. Figured it out. It's good to see your face again." Bucky's arms folded, he cocked a brow. "You even looked me in the eye for a second there. I'm impressed."

Steve tried to make eye contact, but he couldn't. He just sighed, turned to the front door, and went to pick up his coat. The only reason he knew Bucky was coming up behind him like a bull at a gate was because of the reflection in the key-jar, not because he expected it or that he heard him.

He turned in the very nick of time, caught his mechanical wrist and twisted, but Bucky swung.

He raised his forearm and blocked the attack, turned and grabbed that wrist too. Bucky's mechanical arm was stronger than his grip and he ripped it away, gripping Steve's jaw in his hand. He slammed him up against the wall, making the hooks rattle and the front door shake loose.

Steve grunted, pushed up, but Bucky leaned heavily down on his arm, pinning him. His elbow caught Steve's bicep and dug in, effectively immobilizing it, leaving him free to hold Steve's face up to his. He managed to wedge his leg to the side and had every intention of kneeing Bucky in the ribcage in a roundhouse maneuver - but the second he lifted his leg, Bucky darted forward, matching him hip to hip.

Steve exhaled like he'd been punched in the gut. They were both breathing hard, both inches away. Bucky shook his head, eyes flicking to his mouth, his throat, heaving chest.

"Think we need to talk, Captain." he said, very lowly.

Steve, on the other hand, prefered they didn't. He kissed Bucky on the mouth, lingering a moment with his eyes closed, panting through his nose. He didn't move, just felt, and tried hard to achieve enough air through only his nostrils.

He wrenched his head away and turned his face down, eyes still shut tight. Bucky's hand flexed on his jaw.

"No, no, no, you don't get to do that. Look at me."

Steve just kissed him again - missing his mouth but catching the corner.

"Steve," Bucky was saying, trying to steer his face. "Open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me."

"I'm sorry." he was saying, murmured against his chin, and jaw. "I can't. Don't make me. I'm sorry."

Bucky let go of his arm but kept his proximity, the hold on his face. He wrapped his free arm around the back of Steve's shoulders to keep him there with a clawed hand. Steve's hands shot to his back, digging in hard nails there, his hips jutting forward in the most purposeful invitation Bucky had ever known.

Bucky licked his mouth and Steve opened up; but their kiss was like a battle, trying to win the upper hand. There were hard clashes of teeth and tongue, and the longer they fought, the harder Steve pulled at his shirt, until the seams ripped and he shoved Bucky back in the gut.

He stumbled, not expecting it. Steve followed, wrapping tight arms around his waist, slamming him back into the counter. He was bent almost double over it, and now Steve was between his legs, mouth hot and wet on his jaw, throat, at the collar of his shirt.

"Steve." Bucky grunted, grabbed his face, tipped it up.

Steve looked at him, chin planted on his chest. His eyes were bright blue, dazed, his mouth panted in and out from a red, but healing mouth. Bucky ran his fingertip over his brow, down the side of his face, and tried very hard to think of words. Instead, he rolled to the side and took Steve out at the knees, landing on him, mouth sucking on his lower lip before he'd hit the floor.

Steve's hands pulled Bucky's shirt into pieces. Buttons flew off and bounced around the walls, echoing only dimly to each man. Bucky growled, pulled the front f Steve's t-shirt clear off, latching his mouth on the skin the was revealed there, while Steve dug his fingertips into Bucky and shoved him up and off, rolling to top him.

Bucky didn't mind, he just settled his hands on Steve's waistband, yanking the button off his jeans. Steve was holding his face, kissing him with tongue, but stopped, caught Bucky's fingers as he tried to pull the zipper open.

They took a moment, breathing hard, hands both at his jeans. Bucky had his eyes open, didn't want to miss a single second, but Steve's were firmly closed. He sat back - which leveled him on Bucky's groin, making him moan and Steve promptly scoot forward - and sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I-...Can't -...Do this."

"You were doin' a pretty damn good job a second ago." Bucky unwound his hands from the denim at his hips to put them on Steve's rapidly expanding ribcage, feeling his heart thrash around like it was a bird trying to break out.

Steve repositioned his hands onto both of Bucky's, and finally managed to crack open his eyes.

"I-...Am cheating... On Jessica..." he swallowed a hard mouthful, thumb rubbing rhythmically over Bucky's fingers. "I can't."

"Wait. Jessica?" Bucky's head hit the floor.

Steve nodded, and tried to rise, but Bucky held him firm.

"When in the hell'd you get back with her?"

"Sent me a text this morning." Steve murmured. "She was-...In a real bad way. Needed to talk."

"And you ended up with her again?"

"We have rules, this time." was Steve's defence. "We-... Have an understanding, about Darcy."

"And what about me?" both dark brows shot upward. "You gonna explain how you've wanted to stick your tongue in me since all the time you've known me?"

Steve grunted, rose, regardless of how tightly Bucky hung on. He stepped over him but Bucky grabbed his ankle and yanked it, making him crash to the floor again. He turned with fists up but Bucky had just sat, leaning against the wall.

Steve watched the long red stripes down Bucky's side vanish into his skin, and found that he was much the same. A touch to his mouth confirm that at some stage, his lip had been bitten to bleeding, but was now healed, only the taste of blood remaining.

"We can't do this." Steve said flatly, getting to his feet. He marched to his jacket and pulled it on, zipping it all the way to his chin. "You've got Darcy. I've got Jessica."

"I don't think I've got Darcy at all." Bucky told him. "And I think Jessica's got you, hook, line and sinker."

Steve shrugged, refused, once again, to look at him.

"I'm going to look for Darcy now. When I come back with her, I don't want to think about this. You two are gonna sit down and hash out whatever nonsense you've been fighting over, and I'm gonna referee, and everything's just gonna go back to how it was. Do I make myself clear?"

"I ain't doin' it." was Bucky's initial reaction. "You can't make me play nice, Steve."

"You want to keep livin' with us, James?" Steve didn't have to look at him to make the point, he just picked up his keys and flattened his hair down. "Fix it. I won't live in a house where my two best friends won't get along 'cuz they're too damn stubborn."

"And what, you're gonna chose between your 'two best friends'?"

"She was with me first, and she needs help with the rent. You don't. I don't gotta make a decision." he fixed a look over his shoulder, one that rested on the panes of Bucky's chest, the dip of his hips, the trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans. "I don't wanna lose you."

"You're goin' the right way about it." Bucky seethed, and picked up what remained of his shirt. "Bring her back, then. See what happens."

"That better not be a threat."

"Or you'll what?"

Steve didn't answer, he just walked through the door, closing it firmly behind him.