A/N: Look! An update!

Under normal circumstances, Bucky was an early riser. His friends—term used loosely—used to call him Soldier, because he'd always find himself up by six in the morning like clockwork. Admittedly, it was a little funny. He was a junkie, and usually not much more than that. What the hell business did he have at six in the morning?

Today, though—the first day of the rest of his life—Bucky slept in.

He was vaguely aware of noises. The wet smack of Steve's lips pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. The creak of the bed when he rose and the sound of a man trying to be as quiet as possible

Bucky tried to peel his eyes open. He really did. He was just so tired, and it was the first time in forever he felt safe. Truly safe.

"Bucky?"

That voice carried a little more incentive for him to open his eyes. Still, he couldn't bring himself to do it. His dreams had been too good for him to want to bail out now.

"Bucky," the voice came again, and he felt a gentle touch at his hair.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he mumbled, still not opening his eyes. He knew what Bucky's life looked like, and it wasn't this—waking up in a warm bed, still half-asleep and, for once, at total peace.

Steve chuckled and Bucky felt the bed jostle as he sat down, resting a hand on his hip. "You don't have to wake up. I have to go to work. I'm going to leave you my cell phone, okay? Just call me when you wake up, and I can tell you where everything is."

Now Bucky did open his eyes. He rolled onto his back, looked Steve up and down, and promptly rolled over, burying his head with a groan.

"Buck?"

Bucky laughed into his pillow before he rolled over again. He reached up, running his hand down the silk of Steve's tie. "It's worth waking up to see you in a suit."

Steve smiled with light in his eyes. Bucky really liked that.

"I wear a lot of suits," Steve mused.

"Then I guess we'd better stay friends."

"I'd like that."

There was a moment, when Steve looked at Bucky and he looked back at him. Bucky had the urge to wind that pretty silk tie around his hand and drag Steve back down to him.

But Steve was a serious person with a serious job. He probably needed that serious tie to be smooth. No wrinkles from his grubby hands.

Bucky sat up, rubbing his eyes. He blinked, finding Steve kissably close again. Damn, how he wanted to rumple that suit. Especially when Steve put a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing, Buck?"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to be a bum on your dime. I'll start looking for work." He ran his fingers through his hair, still surprised to find it cut short and neat. "I'll figure out how to get out of your space. Maybe there's a shelter or a halfway house or—"

"Hey." Steve squeezed his shoulder. "There's time for all that. Why don't you take it easy today? Get some sleep."

Bucky stared. "You want me to sleep?" He had to laugh.

Steve ran the back of his knuckles down Bucky's cheek. "You know you look like you haven't slept in at least ten years?"

There was a weird knot in Bucky's throat, but he smirked right back at Steve. "You trying to tell me I got an ugly face?"

"No," Steve said, holding his eyes. He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his lips. "Just take it easy. Sleep as long as you want. Eat whatever you want. Don't think about what comes next. That can wait a couple more days. I'll help you."

Bucky huffed, his heart pounding too hard. "I don't usually hear things like that from people who aren't appointed by the courts."

"Well, I was appointed by the court." He winked as he stood up. "I'm going to work."

~0~

Bucky did sleep. Hard, and long. As a result, he was groggy when a phone rang. He was confused, trying to remember the last time he had a phone and who the hell would be calling him, when he realized what was happening. Steve had left his phone. It had to be Steve calling.

"Hello?" he answered, eyes still closed as he sat up in bed.

There was a long, low whistle on the other end of the line. "You know, if 900 numbers were still a thing, I know exactly what you should look into as a career choice."

Bucky's eyes flew open wide. "What?"

"Gotta be quicker on the uptake than that if you want to keep up with the big boys, Mr. Barnes."

A chill went through Bucky, though he couldn't quite place why. He shook his head hard. "What? Who is this?" How did they know who he was?

"Just how many brain cells did you fry in your long run as a junkie?"

Bucky stared at nothing, his eyebrows pinched. "Mr. Stark?"

"By George, I think he's got it. Boy, it's a good thing you're cute. At least I know what I've been doing wrong with Steve. He likes them dumb."

"Can I help you with something?" Bucky had to remind himself he didn't have a parole officer. Not this time.

He was a free man. Not guilty.

"You can settle a bet for me. What bed are you still in at eleven-thirty in the morning? Steve's or the guest room?"

Bucky was quiet for too long. On the other end of the line Stark chuckled. "I knew Steve was full of shit. Mr. 'It's not like that between us.' He lied for you. The Golden Boy told a lie." Another chuckle. "I think he likes you, Bucko."

"You are the one who tried to send me to jail for the rest of my life, right?"

"That was yesterday." There was a sound as though he'd clapped his hands together. "So. I can't trust Cap to tell the truth anymore."

"You can't trust who?"

"Steve. Come on now. Life around here moves at Devil Wears Prada speed at least."

"See, I know you're speaking English, but…"

"Jeez. How long have you been stoned? Did you at least watch Pineapple Express?" He sighed dramatically. "Long story short, we like to throw a little shindig when we win a case."

"But you lost your case." This man was very confusing.

"You know what? I'm seeing it now. You and Steve deserve each other. Hey, genius. Party. Technically in Steve's honor because he won the hell out of that case, but really celebrating you being back on the streets. Hooray." The last word was sarcastic. "Anyway. Steve keeps trying to tell me you need time. To leave you alone, but come on. You're a party animal."

"I'm not—"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know I'll have plenty of the tasty, non-alcoholic drinks. I can't imagine what that they would be, but that's why I hire people. Come on. It'll be fun."

"I...guess?" He didn't want Steve to miss out on something he usually went to just because of him.

"Excellent." He cackled. "I'm going to hang up before you realize you just agreed to be in an entire room full of prosecutors."

"I—shit."

"Wear something tight and sexy. Toodles."

Bucky stared at the phone. What the hell had just happened?

A few minutes later, as he was trying to remember if Steve had told him his number at the office, the cell phone in his hand rang. He glared at it, wondering what fresh hell was waiting for him. He connected the call and brought it gingerly to his ear. "Hello? Steve's phone?"

"Buck?"

Bucky slumped down. "Oh, thank fuck. Steve."

"I'm sorry. Tony is...ah…"

"In love with you?" Despite his curiosity, Bucky was relaxed again. Steve had that effect on him.

"He's not…" Steve's laugh then was nervous. "That's just Tony. Just watch. He'll flirt with you as soon as he gets the chance."

Bucky shuddered. "Jesus, what must that be like? What did Natasha call him? The Ironman. He was vicious. I'm going to have nightmares about being interrogated by him."

"Actually, no one I know can party harder than Tony Stark. He makes it into an art form. They're something, his parties. But don't say yes just because he bullied you into it. We don't have to go."

An image flashed in his head—he and Steve curled up together on the couch just watching television. The thought of it made his heart ache with want.

That wasn't his life. It never had been his life, and it was never going to be.

"Me in a room full of lawyers who aren't trying to nail my ass," he mused.

"Well, at least not in the courtroom."

Bucky chortled. "Not as innocent as you look, are you?" He sighed. "You put a lot on the line to help me, didn't you?"

Steve sucked in a breath. "It's fine."

"No, it's not." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The least I can do is let them grill me off the stand. I just got out of prison. They can't possibly be worse than that."

"No, they're good people." Steve paused a beat. "We really don't have to go, but if you do want to, you need to buy something to wear. Something swanky."

"Oh, swanky." Bucky reached for his discarded jeans, smoothing them out. "I don't have much."

"I know. I was going to tell you. There's a small safe behind my brown shoes in the closet. Take whatever cash you need to get something nice. There's a shopping center a couple of blocks down that has the stores you need."

Bucky grumbled under his breath, but he didn't argue. He wasn't going to embarrass Steve, and he had no money of his own. He'd use it as incentive to get off his ass and pay his friend back. "Fine, but I'm starting a tab." He found the safe. "What's the passcode?"

For some reason, that question was met with a long silence. "Steve?"

"It's, uh…" Steve was in full 'aw-shucks' mode. "It's, um. It's your birthday."

Now it was Bucky's turn to be silent.

"It was secure," Steve stumbled. "A number I could remember, but that no one would associate with me. It's been part of all my passwords for a long time. Since we were kids. I just...never changed it."

Not for the first time, Bucky was struck dumb. "That… I mean… Damn, Steve."

"Don't, uh…" Bucky could almost hear Steve blushing. "Look, you're important to me. You always have been. That's all."

"I mean… I spent so much of the time we were apart hating you," Bucky said, his voice thin as he tried to wrap his head around everything. He couldn't get used to the idea Steve had done any of this for him. What could his life have been like if he hadn't gotten so angry?

"Hey, it's a new day, okay?" Steve cleared his throat. "Are you sure you want to do this thing tonight?"

Bucky laughed. "It's what got me in trouble in the first place, right? I never can say no to a party."

"Nothing's going to happen, you know. Natasha will be there. And it was Tony's job to interrogate you on the witness stand. That's not what he's like outside the courtroom. He throws a good party."

"Yeah. It's fine." Bucky got to his feet, arching his back as he stretched. "And I'll pay you back. I promise, I'll pay you back for everything."

There was a pause on the other end, but Steve didn't argue. "I can probably cut out around four."

"Don't get yourself in anymore trouble for me."

"Does that sound like something I would do?" Steve asked, too innocently.

"Ha. Isn't that ironic? You were the troublemaker."

"And you were the one dragging my ass out of the fire."

"Yeah." By then, Bucky had found a towel. "I'll see you later."

~0~

It was the most thought Bucky had ever put into what he wore. Even before he fell off the deep end, when he went to parties or on dates, he didn't think much about how he dressed. He was a good-looking man when he was all cleaned up. As long as his clothes weren't shabby, he was going to look good.

Of course, the more drugs and crime took over his life, the less he cared about what he wore. He had a shabby suit for the inevitable times he'd be hauled in front of a judge.

Honestly—everything he owned was shabby. These days, when he wasn't in jail, he was the kind of guy who shopped at Goodwill. The price tag at the store Steve sent him to was shocking. It would take his first three months of paychecks at whatever penny ante job he managed to get to pay Steve back for just the one outfit.

Well, whatever. As much as he told himself he was doing this for Steve, he also had to admit there was a selfish part of him that couldn't wait to walk into that party looking the way he did. He'd never won a case before. He'd never been able to look at any official—attorney or cop—with the smug satisfaction that he wasn't guilty. In his new clothes, he looked like a totally different person. The person he wanted to be.

The person he had the chance to be now?

Bucky shook that daydream away. Nothing had changed, really. He was still a former junkie, a recovering drug addict, an ex-con with no education and no real work history. He wasn't a murderer. That was nothing to be proud of. The most he would amount to was a quiet life with a job that hopefully let him survive.

But tonight? Tonight he would walk into a party full of the same kind of people who had always looked down on him. He'd be their equal—fancy clothes, nice, shiny shoes, freshly shaven face and hair mussed just so.

Steve called around four sounding frustrated. He had to work overtime. Bucky read between the lines easily enough. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that it had to be a big deal that a DA had worked so hard to get a bum like him out of trouble. His boss was probably going to make his working life just a little miserable for awhile.

As a result, Steve was in a rush when he finally made it home. He came in the door already shedding his clothes, which amused Bucky to no end.

"Don't tell me you're the kind of guy who has to be on time even to parties," Bucky teased.

"Why choose a time if you don't really mean it?" Steve shot back, stripping off his boxers as though he was that used to having Bucky in his home.

Bucky, highly distracted by the very naked, very attractive body in front of him, said eloquently, "Huh?"

Steve flashed a grin. "Get ready. I'll be quick if you need to take a shower." His smile only got more devilish. "I'd say you should come in with me, but—"

"We're already going to be late?" Bucky finished, having gotten ahold of himself.

"Exactly."

So, reluctantly, Bucky retreated to the bedroom to get dressed. Steve took a military-short shower but stayed in the bathroom. His closet was attached, so that was no surprise.

Some minutes later, Bucky stood in front of the full length mirror. His outfit was simple—the fanciest, best cut pair of navy blue pants he'd ever owned. A plain white shirt that showed off his physique, and a navy blue suit jacket in what the salesperson had said was a playful rather than a serious cut. Bucky didn't really know what that meant, but he was aiming for snazzy yet semi-casual.

Objectively, he looked good.

The bathroom door came open. "I just need to run a comb through my—"

As he turned around, he cut off.

Jesus Christ. Steven Grant Rogers was the most beautiful man Bucky had ever seen. That fact kept shocking him. He was wearing a button down shirt—navy blue. Black pants. He just looked—

"Damn," Steve said under his breath, his eyes sweeping up and down Bucky's body.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "You like it?"

Steve ran a hand over his mouth and then met Bucky's eyes, looking sheepish. He just shook his head and crossed the room. Hooking an arm around Bucky's waist, he pulled him close and kissed him. Hard. With the fingers of his free hand, he unbuttoned the one button Bucky had done, and then splayed his hand wide over his belly.

"Ohhh, I don't want to go to the party anymore," Bucky said, panting lightly when their kiss broke.

"Ha. You should have thought of that." Steve kissed him once more. "Come on. Let's go. And remind me I can't maul you in the cab." He shook his head. "Tony is already going to be insufferable. I told him yesterday nothing was going on between us."

"Don't pretend you didn't like it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a punk."

"Jerk." Steve smiled. "Get a move on."

Bucky saluted. "Let's go."

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's still hanging on!