Steve had been to war, yet nothing was quite as terrifying as the hum of a tattoo needle.

The first time Steve saw Bucky really working — not just harassing Thor — was something that somehow scared the living hell out of him. The buzzing was the only audible thing in the entire parlor, and the fact that Bucky wore a mask and gloves as if he was going into surgery spooked Steve more.

You've been shot at by terrorists, Steve calmly reminded himself. You can handle getting a tattoo.

That was not the case at all. Steve's fingers curled around the edge of the curtain as he pulled it back to get a look inside the small, blocked off tattooing room. A woman sat in the chair that reminded Steve vaguely of a dental office with earbuds pressed into her ears. At her right, Bucky leaned over her forearm with the machine in his hand.

The only thing remotely peaceful about the entire scene was how captured by his work Bucky seemed. Steve never pegged Bucky for an artistic type; he was covered in tattoos, but it made him seem more of a tattooee than a tattooer. But here it was evident his work consumed him.

Bucky had his hair tied back into a sloppy bun. It had grown longer in the past few weeks so his bangs no longer drifted in front of his eyes. Oh, his eyes, hazel multi-colored orbs focused so intently on the ink in her skin that he hadn't even noticed Steve watching them.

Or so Steve thought.

"Did I get a call or something?" Bucky asked. His eyes never left his canvas of skin, which made Steve shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot.

Shaking his head, the blonde replied, "No."

Bucky sighed softly. When he looked up, his eyes were tired and sunken in towards the bottom. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all yesterday, not after their hopeless kiss in the rain. Steve would be lying if he said he had gotten any. "I'm trying to focus, if you don't mind."

Steve had heard of some people striking up conversation during tattoo sessions to help distract them, but Bucky didn't even vaguely want to talk. He was already so quiet, so guarded, that Steve just nodded his head. The curtain fell back into place, and two of them were separated again.

"I have one coupon for an extra-large two topping pizza at Marco's, and it expires in a week." Steve said, waving the thin piece of paper around subtly.

Bucky tried to ignore him, but it was near impossible when a large ex-marine was giving you the puppy eyes for crappy New York-style pizza. "Cool?" He said, not sure whether or not to put in the effort to sarcastically pat Steve on the back.

The blonde had his thick arms crossed over his chest. He leaned against the wall as he watched Bucky clean and put away all this tattoo equipment for the next day. Bucky seemed more intent on bagging up unsterile needles than talking about pizza.

"So," Steve sang, "you need to tell me what you like on your pizza so I can order this for us tonight."

For just a split second, Bucky paused. He continued cleaning up his work area with a small grunt. "And what gave you the notion that I would like to have dinner with you tonight?"

Steve almost gasped as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Because it's crappy New York food." He mimicked Bucky's tone. "Duh."

Bucky snorted with a small bout of laughter before realizing he was supposed to be aggravated. His smile fell immediately and he shook his head. "Where did you even get that coupon? Were you up at five this morning going through newspaper clippings, grandpa?"

The blonde was hardly phased. If anything, he laughed too. "Actually it's from a magazine while I was waiting at the laundromat. But you can make many more old person jokes towards me tonight while we share pizza?" His voice trailed off in a hopeful end.

Steve had no idea why he was trying so hard. God knew Bucky wasn't going to, so what was there to lose? Either Bucky would finally cave in and they'd share their proper kiss as one of them tried to hail down a taxicab at one in the morning in the pouring rain, or it would simply stay like this.

Yeah, Steve had thought it through pretty well.

Somewhere behind them, Thor had laughed lowly to himself. He had a trash bag in hand, and he set it down to pick up and take out the trash sitting in the corner of the tattoo room. "Buck, if you don't go on a date with him, I will." Thor sang, his lips pressed together innocently.

"It's Bucky" was all the brunette cared to reply with through gritted teeth.

Both Steve and his peculiar Aussie friend snickered quietly. Just as quick as he came, Thor picked up the trash and left. Bucky didn't say a word until he heard the door open and close, signaling Thor went out to the dumpster.

"Mushrooms and pepperoni." Bucky said clearly, calmly, as he bumped the last drawer full of organized ink pots closed with his hip. "And if you call it a date, I'm throwing your ass out of my apartment without pizza."

Steve truly felt like a puppy with the way his mood instantly perked up. "Are you inviting me to your apartment?"

Bucky made a frustrated grumbling noise from somewhere in his chest. He grabbed a pen and a sticky note, frantically scribbling something down. "It's not an invitation. It's an acceptance because you're paying."

With that, Bucky walked forward and stuck the note to Steve's chest. His eyes lingered there a moment before he shook his head and walked away. "Thor has keys, he'll lock up." He said. Bucky grabbed his coat off the back of a chair, swung it over his shoulder, and walked outside into the lowering light of sunset.

Steve looked down at the note on his chest. He pulled it off quickly, bringing it up to stare at it. In thin, all-caps letters was Bucky's address written in scratchy black ink. Some of it was smudged in his haste. Such an artist, Steve huffed to himself.

There was another thud of the door as Thor came back inside. He peered around the corner, probably looking for Bucky, but instead found Steve grinning like an idiot at a small slip of paper. "Were you just invited to the ball, Cinderella?" He asked with sarcastic dreaminess.

Steve pressed his lips together to contain a smile, but it didn't work. "I got a date." He said quietly, flipping the note around to show his coworker.

Thor whistled lowly as he shook his head from side to side. "Good luck with that."

Bucky had never set up a time, so Steve had no idea when to arrive at the sloppily written destination written on the note.

By now it was dark outside, and the neon lights of the motel caught Steve's eye as he locked up his suite behind him. He had no money for a cab, so he figured walking there would take long enough. He still had a nagging feeling that Bucky would think he was much too early that he just couldn't shake.

Bucky lived a few blocks away from the parlor. It was a nice walk, though Brooklyn at night made Steve anxious. That combined with the fear of seeing Bucky made Steve go into a fit of nervous sweats.

What if he smelled bad from the walk there? What if Bucky changed his mind? What if Bucky was only doing this to humor him? What if–

Steve's thoughts were cut short. Apparently dwelling on stress made time fly, because before he knew it, Steve was standing at the bottom of Bucky's building waiting to be let in.

In that same scratchy handwriting, Steve saw the name Barnes written across the buzzer entry. He pressed his thumb against the doorbell. Bucky's static voice rang out after a moment: "What do you want?"

"Uh," the blonde shuffled back and forth awkwardly, "it's Steve."

Silence. "Oh." The intercom shut off and a small click suggested the door had opened.

Steve had never lived in an apartment building before. It seemed strange, like he missed out on the whole 'living in a crappy apartment and being independent' aspect of life. He'd skipped it and gone straight to sleeping in barracks instead. Yet independent was all Bucky ever was.

Skipping up to the second floor right where Bucky wrote down, Steve tucked the sticky note into his back pocket. His foot steps were soft across the hall as he found Bucky's front door and stood in front of it.

This is it. What would it look like inside? Probably messy, Steve figured. Did he look alright? Should he brought a different shirt to change into that wasn't so anxiety-sweaty? He couldn't remember if he had brushed his teeth-

Once again Steve was pulled from his useless thoughts — he really needed to stop stressing so much. The latch on the door fell away and Bucky pulled it half open. He stood there barefoot in jeans and a plain grey t-shirt, his hair messy like he had taken a nap and never brushed it.

"Were you just standing in front of my door?" Bucky asked quietly.

Out of instinct, Steve shook his head. "No."

"Then why were you out here for so long?"

Silence.

"Whatever. Just order me a pizza, I'm starving." Bucky shook his head and stepped aside to let Steve in.

Steve had no idea why he was so bad at social situations like this, but he wished he could've done more than just stand there. The brunette's brow's furrowed as he waited, and waited...

With a huff, Bucky leaned forward and wrapped his fist around the fabric of Steve's shirt. His hand to his chest, Bucky pulled in the other man and slammed the door shut behind them. The blonde's face was red with embarrassment. Nice one, Steve.

Before Steve could even say anything, Bucky grabbed a paper pizza menu and threw it at Steve, who awkwardly caught it in his chest. Bucky said as he walked away, "Mushrooms and pepperoni!"

Steve hated mushrooms.

Raw, they were bearable. But on pizza — so slimy and warm — he could have gagged. Though it was something Bucky liked, so he figured picking off a few slices of mushroom every once in a while was no big deal.

They sat on the carpet in the living room, their backs pressed against the couch and their legs stretched out before them. In between them sat a warm and lovely-smelling extra large pizza with craters of grease. Disgusting New York style, just how he liked it.

Bucky had a slice of pizza in one hand and the television remote in the other as they tried to find something to watch. At first he was intent on the TV, but eventually his attention turned towards Steve as he saw him dropping mushrooms onto a napkin out of the corner of his eye.

"Steve?"

The blonde looked up at him, his cheeks stained red again. Must everything embarrass him? Steve innocently bit off a piece of his now mushroom-free pizza. "Yeah?"

Bucky's tongue ran over his lips — God, Steve couldn't stop staring — just as those lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "You could have told me you don't like mushrooms."

Steve shrugged softly. Bucky's smile was so rare and relieving to see that it immediately put him at ease. "It's fine. You like them."

The brunette sat there in silence for a moment. His eyes were oddly sad, but his lips still held that cheeky half-grin. The half-and-half expression made Steve want to kiss him again, to make Bucky entirely grinning and no longer just oddly sad.

Bucky's throat bobbed visibly as he forced down a swallow. "Thanks."

Steve had no idea why Bucky was thanking him. Perhaps he had gone so long with the wrong and selfish kind of people and so long on his own that he forgot what it was like to have someone care about you, even in the slightest, stupidest way like picking mushrooms off a pizza.

Neither of them said anything else. Steve curled his legs up into his chest, hoping the tight position would hide the childish smile that spread over his face as he ate, their eyes glued to the television, the pizza steaming between them.