Well, hello there!
So today's one of my very dear friends' birthday. She's been sticking by my side for a few years now, and lately I've been harassing her (there is no other word for it) with pictures of Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans every single day for the last 4 months. Apart from staying very nice about the whole photo harassment, she's also very supportive of my writings and constant (not so good) ideas, so I figured I'd post this little thing, that I wrote a few days ago now, in honor of her today. Camille, I hope you're gonna spend a day just as amazing as you, because that's what you deserve. Also, I love you.
This work is unbeta'd, English is not my first language and all mistakes are my own. do NOT hesitate to point them out, or to let me know what you think about this one shot! x
Bucky had always loved airports.
Most of the people he knew didn't, which was pretty ironic considering the cheerful mood it always put him in whenever he was traveling. Not that he liked the buzzing noise and constant movements (quite the contrary, especially since his accident), but it tended to make him feel a little less focused on his own problems —and anything that helped with his ptsd and anxiety was more than welcomed. Even if it meant dealing with crying babies, moody teenagers and domestic quarrels.
This time though, his quiet contemplation was interrupted as he found himself (more "pushed himself to intervene", if he was completely honest) in the middle of a fight right before boarding the plane, punching away a middle aged (and nearly bold, homophobia was never a good look) man spitting slurs at two men holding hands on the boarding line. His flight back to New York had promised to be uneventful, but America truly never disappointed. Nor did MAGA supporters and their shitty hats.
After a few well thrown punches, Bucky found himself pressed to the front of the plane by a lovely flight attendant, upgraded to business class for his "bravery and undying courage" (or maybe Bucky was just a tiny bit dramatic). His sore arm was cradled against his chest as he sat down on his new, comfortable, big seat; wincing when the vibration of the movement hurt his shoulder. After sitting comfortably and arranging his small bag under the seat in front of him, he was halfway through a self inflicted (bad) massage when a voice next to him made him jump on his seat.
"Are you alright?"
Bucky whipped his head around, only now realizing that he was not alone on the row on this side of the aisle. Next to the window was seated the most gorgeous man Bucky had ever seen in his life. Mind you, he might have been 25 only, but he was a gay disaster and he was in college . Although he wasn't what he'd call a man whore, he's slept with his fair share of men since his sophomore year and he had taste. The man seated next to him was easily one of the most gorgeous specimen he'd ever seen, and that included his Orlando Bloom period when he was 12 and discovering the joys of masturbation.
"Uh" he so intelligently replied, blinking a couple of times as he took in the man's appearance.
He was wearing a tuxedo, and the suit itself looked more expensive than Bucky's very expensive (and roommates-filled) apartment's rent. He had a briefcase in front of him on the floor of the plane, and one of the last generation's Starkphone in his hand. His dark blonde hair was neatly cut even if longer than most would have expected for a businessman, and his blue eyes made Bucky reconsider his favorite color. Even with the suit on, the guy looked huge. His muscles were bulging under the fabric, and coupled with his baby blue eyes and handsome face, he looked like someone who'd just walked off of Bucky's latest wet dream.
"Your shoulder" the man kept going, probably to fill the awkward silence that settled between them after Bucky's non diligent answer. "It looks like it hurts, are you okay?"
"Oh" Bucky sais, shaking himself from his (inappropriate) thoughts. "Yeah, uh. Yeah, sorry. It just hurts a bit, I really should have punched the asshole square in the face with my one valid arm though."
Gorgeous blonde raised an eyebrow, scrunting his face.
"I don't know if you're being serious right now" he finally admitted, still looking as amused as before even if a bit incertain.
Bucky snorted. "Oh, yeah I am. Didn't you hear? I punched a homophobe in the face when boarding the plane, and they upgraded me here in the process."
He tried shrugging, but let out a growl when his sore shoulder reminded itself to him.
"I have to say" the man replied with a frown, slipping his phone in his pocket, "that although I find it pretty endearing to know that you punched a person that clearly deserved it, I'm quite concerned about the state of your shoulder. It really shouldn't hurt that much, especially when you're seated."
"Oh it's fine" Bucky muttered, sheepish. (it wasn't fine, his shoulder screamed). "I actually have been in an accident a few years back, and lost most of my mobility with this arm. I just didn't think before punching him."
They were interrupted when the demonstrations of security started, and both men fell respectfully silent. Bucky was only half listening as the hostess moved around to show them what to do in case of emergency, so used to flying from his parents' house to New York practically every two months and knowing the movements practically by heart at this point. Bless his parents' wishes to see him so often, which extended to actually paying for his flight tickets.
Finally, the plane departed and soon enough they were above the clouds, the low rumbling of the plane luring half of the passengers into sleep at this early hour of the morning. Gorgeous blonde man was typing on his phone when Bucky turned to look at him, and even though he frowned at the action (wasn't he supposed to be on flight mode? did he ever catch a break?), he didn't dare interrupting him again. Each vibration of the plane was like fire against his hurt shoulder, and he squirmed in his seat for a good five minutes before finding an acceptable position.
The nice flight attendant —the one who upgraded him, chose the exact moment he finally felt a little bit less uncomfortable to come back, offering drinks to everyone in business. Bucky wasn't one to say no to free alcohol (college, remember?), but ended up suspiciously staring at the drink once she gave it to him with a warm smile.
"Am I gonna have to pay for this?" he asked, finally looking back at the man seated next to him, finding him staring at his side profile with a pensive face.
"I don't think you will" he replied, visibly amused. "since you're the hero of the day and all."
"Oh."
"In all seriousness" gorgeous and nice blonde kept going, "you don't pay for whatever they offer you here. Is it your first time traveling in business?"
Bucky let out a laugh.
"Dude. Do I look like someone who travels first class anywhere?" He gestured at his sweatpants (it was 7:30 in the morning, who the fuck wore presentable clothes at that time anyway) and half torn bag at his feet.
Hot gorgeous dude honest to god giggled . Bucky wondered why it sounded so sexy, because no grown ass man should be allowed to giggle. Except this gorgeous specimen, apparently.
"I've learned not to judge a book by its cover" he finally replied, still smiling. "I'm Steve, by the way."
"Bucky. Nice to meet you, Steve."
Steve's smile widened. "Likewise."
Halfway into the flight, Bucky had learned that Steve was a businessman working at Stark Industries, that he was born and raised in Brooklyn, that he preferred pizzas over sushis, and wanted to be an artist when he grew up. He also realized that apart from being incredibly gorgeous, he also was extremely nice, which didn't help Bucky's disastrous gay heart.
"So you're a student" Steve asked, after mocking him for crying at the end of the last of us. As if the man had no heart.
"Yep. English literature and history, not the most amazing thing to bring up during family dinners, especially when your aunt wanted you to be an accountant, but I love it." Bucky replied with a soft smile.
Steve's grin echoed his. Bucky realized with a blink that Steve looked considerably younger when he smiled like this, probably because for once his eyebrows weren't drawn together in concentration.
"I love history" Steve said with a cheerful voice, the kind of voice Bucky himself used when he was talking about something he really liked. "when I was younger, my mom used to tell me I'd end up teaching history in college, because I was so passionate about everything."
Bucky chuckled. "Well, your mom is a wise woman."
Steve's expression turned a little sad, and Bucky mentally kicked himself immediately. This, right there, was precisely the reason why he was still single. He could practically hear Darcy groan on the back of his head as he hit the inside of his lip, disappointed in himself.
"I'm sorry" he offered, sheepish. "I didn't mean…"
Steve waved a dismissive hand in the hair. "It's okay, it's been a long time."
His reply was followed by a small silence. Even if it wasn't awkward per say -it felt pretty comfortable all things considered, Bucky still felt like an ass for bringing up such a tender subject.
"Well" he finally said, making Steve look up at him once again. "I can't say the hot professor look wouldn't have suited you."
Steve's eyes looked like they could comically pop out of his head all of a sudden, and he finally let out a loud laugh, head thrown back against the seat behind him. He grabbed his left boob with his huge right hand, wrinkling the fabric of his suit in the process.
"You know" he finally said as he raised an eyebrow, looking at Bucky fondly. "You're something else entirely Bucky."
The younger man wriggled his eyebrows playfully. "Wait until you hear me debate for two hours on the superiority of Star Trek over Star Wars. Then, you can call me 'something else', if you're not feeling the overwhelming urge to strangle me."
His sentence seemed to press Steve's hilarity even further, to his utter surprise (and delight). Unfortunately for Bucky, it soon got really uncomfortable for him to stay seated comfortably and the conversation, as interesting as it might have been, was cut short; the position he was forced in straining his shoulder and making his entire back ache painfully in the process.
"Seriously though, are you sure you're okay?" Steve asked for the hundredth time, frowning as Bucky let out a little pained moan when he tried to move for the thousandth time in a minute.
"I'm fine" Bucky lied through his teeth. Damnit, he was not going to let his body waste what promised to be the greatest flight in his life. "It just hurts a little, that's all."
Steve didn't look convinced at all.
"It looks like it hurts more than just "a little" Bucky" he insisted. "I think you need to go see a doctor as soon as we land."
Bucky laughed. "Yeah, that's not happening pal" he replied dryly. "I don't have a good enough insurance to cover for hospital bills right now. I'll just ask one of my friends to take a look at it."
The blonde looked like he wanted to say more, but Bucky interrupted him once again.
"He's been in the army" he assured, "it's fine. He patched me up a few times before, it will do just fine."
'It will do just fine' ended up being pretty compromised by the time when they landed, as Bucky was hunched over in pain when the plane finally stilled.
"Bucky" Steve said, and the young man finally registered the hands framing his body when people started getting up to leave the plane. "Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital. Do you think you can walk out of there?"
Bucky nodded, not even finding the strength to fight Steve as he mentioned a hospital for what seemed like the third time in an hour. Which was probably the case, too. Bucky was too hurt to think straight ( ha, as if he'd ever done anything straight in his life, ever ).
"I can't believe the best flight of my life got ruined by a sore shoulder" Bucky finally muttered when they made their way through the front of the plane, slowly but surely. He caught a few worried gaze as Steve helped him out, taking his bag as if it weighed nothing and balancing it on his shoulders.
Steve laughed. "Well, I'm glad I made your flight so memorable."
Bucky rolled his eyes, incapable of holding back his treacherous smile. "Calm yourself Steve, I was referring to the seat upgrade, that's all."
He felt something jab him in the side, and realized with a snort that it was Steve's fingers poking at his middle section, careful of his injured shoulder.
"That's cold Bucky, very cold" Steve whispered in his ear, fake hurt.
Fortunately for the younger man, JFK's security was pretty quick to go through at this time of the day. Although he rationally knew he should somehow feel unsafe, it was a small miracle on this special and very painful day. He didn't question Steve when the man put a warm hand against the small of his back, guiding him through the last gates before waving at someone outside of the airport.
"Hi Happy" he said, and Bucky vaguely remembered mumbling something similar through the pounding of his heart and the pain that spread through his entire body. How could such and insignificant action cause him so much pain, he'll never understand.
He was then guided to a very nice car and arranged on the back seat, right next to Steve.
"This is not how I wanted this day to go" Bucky finally whined as the car started, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head against the seat beside him. "Why am I such a disaster all the time?"
"Oh yeah?" Steve asked, and somehow Bucky could imagine the smile on his stupidly gorgeous face even with his eyes closed. "What did you imagine then?"
Bucky stayed silent for a while, wondering if he could really tease the man like he wanted to. Granted, Steve looked positively pissed when Bucky had told him in great details about the man he'd punched in the plane, but it didn't mean anything. The fact that Bucky had dreamed about taking Steve home during the entire flight? Well, no one had to know. Especially since it wasn't realistic at all, with his idiots roommates being around all the time.
"Well maybe I could have talked you into getting a drink somewhere" he finally said, deciding to go for it. Damn it, he was in pain, and if Steve threw him out of the car, he'd just pass out somewhere and die in a back alley. Nothing dramatic at all.
"Is that so?" Steve asked, and Bucky couldn't really decipher the tone.
He opened his eyes, finding the action harder than anticipated as he was assaulted with the lights of the streets filtering through the window. Damn, his head was pounding. When he was finally able to focus on Steve, he found the man looking at him with a found expression on his face, mixed with worry and something else he couldn't really decipher. Whatever it was, it made his heart clench.
"Yeah" he slurred, "don't think I would have much of a chance with a guy like you, but you can't blame a guy for trying."
Steve smiled. "A guy like me?" he asked.
"Yeah. You know, perfect everything. Perfect face, perfect smile, perfect job, perfect car and perfect driver."
This time, Steve laughed. Bucky was pretty sure that Happy laughed, too, somewhere in the background.
"Alright, we're there" Steve finally said, and Bucky didn't remember closing his eyes again and gritting his teeth so hard he could feel it in his head. "Bucky, I'm gonna need you to walk just a few more meters, okay?"
Bucky had to admit to himself (because he'd never tell it to anyone else, ever), but he quite liked being babied this way while he was hurt. Call it a indirect response to trauma, but he'd often felt alone when dealing with his numerous wounds after his accident, even if his parents tried their hardest to be there for him. It was a long time ago, and ever since he'd passed his majority, he'd rarely had people caring for him like this. He usually hid his insecurities behind dark humour and sarcastic comments, but it didn't mean he didn't appreciate people seeing right through it.
"Happy, I'll be right there. See if you can find a parking spot somewhere, I'll call you as soon as I get out."
Bucky's heart clenched at the words, even if he shouldn't be surprised. Steve was a nice dream, but nothing more. He had other things to worry about at the time, mainly how he was going to pay for the hospital bill for starters. He vaguely felt conscious enough to remember Steve guiding him through the main entrance of the ER, and asking the receptionist about where they could sit. Fortunately for him (he'd say his karma was pretty good but he was still at the ER, so karma could eat his ass), they didn't wait long and he was soon pressed into an observation room.
"Wait" Steve called as Bucky felt someone jab something in his arm —God he hoped it was morphine. "I just wanna give him something."
A warm big, nice hand slipped in his, and Bucky opened his eyes.
"Hi" he croaked, wincing at his own voice. "thank you for bringing me here, I guess. I don't think my roommate would have been able to put up with me without morphine."
Steve's face split in a huge grin, and Bucky couldn't help but notice how gorgeous his entire face (and entire being, really, it was more than unfair) was. At the snort Steve let out, Bucky realized that he might have said it out loud. He could always blame it on the morphine, anyway.
"It was nice meeting you, Bucky" Steve simply said, throwing an apologetic glance at the nurse impatiently sighing on the young man's right. "Don't worry about the hospital bill, okay? I've got this. Just focus on getting better."
With a final squeeze of his hand, Steve let go of Bucky's fingers and disappeared from his sight. Bucky didn't really have the time to think about it before he was pushed into another room, and faced with a doctor.
A few hours later, he was back in his small Brooklyn apartment, arm squeezed in a splint to ease his aching limb, heavy heart weighing in his chest as he teased his panicked roommates. Steve hadn't lied when he'd told him that he would take care of the hospital bill, and when a part of him was relieved, he also felt a little bit uneasy knowing that someone he could only consider a stranger had paid such an amount of money on him. He pushed the thought away as quickly as he could.
It took Bucky three days to find the little note that Steve left him with his number scribbled on it, tucked in his shitty phone's protective case.
"Hey Bucky, it's Steve.
If you ever feel like making that two hours speech on why you'd totally marry Captain Kirk rather than Luke Skywalker, feel free to call me."