"Ah, Captain Rogers. There you are. I had wondered if you were coming to dinner at all or if I'd have to fetch you."
Peggy is standing outside the mess tent when they arrive, clearly waiting for him. Her expression is bemused and mildly disapproving.
Bucky and the others are trailing a couple of paces behind, laughing loud and raucous. Silence falls as they realize there's a lady present, and at least one of them goes red. Peggy looks thoroughly unimpressed. Either she didn't hear whatever dirty joke was being told or she simply doesn't care. Peggy is probably pretty used to this kind of thing by now, he supposes.
Steve honestly hadn't been listening once the topic moved from Bucky to what the men would all like to do on their next leave. Brothels had come up at least once. He'd quickly diverted his attention to putting one foot in front of the other.
He really doesn't want to know the rest.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Carter." Steve glances back at Bucky, who's just over his shoulder now, and who's regarding Peggy with a mix of curiosity and surprise. Steve would lay money he's trying not to let the shock that a woman like this is casually making conversation with Steve show on his face.
Buck was probably kind of out of it the first time he unofficially met Peggy, at the gates of the camp. Steve decides to cut him some slack, and doesn't mention it.
"I.. got a little side-tracked."
I can see that." Peggy's face inches toward smiling. "This must be the famous Sergeant Barnes." Peggy gives him a once over. She doesn't look surprised by Bucky's presence, so as usual, everybody else probably knew what was happening to Bucky long before Steve did. He tries not to resent that. He really does.
"Looks rather more healthy than I expected, all things considered. I suspect a good meal will do wonders to help that along." She sweeps one hand toward the tent flap. "Shall we, gentlemen?"
All of the men look deeply uncomfortable, confronted with the idea of having to behave themselves in front of Peggy. They're still feeling rowdy, and they certainly can't cut loose in front of a lady, especially one as classy-looking as this. There are murmured excuses from at least half of the men, and most of the group peels off and vanishes into the crowded camp as quickly as they had appeared. Not counting Bucky, only five remain.
Steve's starting to notice a trend.
There's a small core group of men that just keep turning up whenever Bucky does. They're a tight-knit group that he just never seems to shake off, each looking out for him in their own subtle way - discounting Dugan who does nothing quietly, and has pretty clearly appointed himself Bucky's official older brother. He's not even trying to be subtle.
They've almost started to form a unit of their own around Bucky, despite only one of them even being from the 107th and half of them being from other countries entirely. Steve has even begun to memorize their names.
It's a lot more reassuring than he would've expected: to see people just about as insanely devoted to his friend as he is. Makes him feel less like a crazy person. … And not nearly as jealous as he might've expected of himself.
Because, who wouldn't love Bucky?
Bucky's a great guy. It's a simple fact. For as long as Steve can remember, people have always loved Bucky Barnes, and he suspects that they always will. The only people who don't have consistently proven to be assholes of the highest order. It's one of the great truths of his universe, and the only one that's still holding up in this new world where he finds himself.
Buck's charming. He's everybody's friend. He's just... magnetic. And Steve knows from experience that Bucky'd give you the coat off his back in the middle of the worst blizzard anyone's seen in years, if you needed it. Or if he'd convinced himself that you did. He'd stand there turning blue and swear up and down he wasn't cold. Bucky's kind of an idiot like that - but then, so is Steve. Maybe that's what makes them such good friends.
Steve can't get mad at the rest of the world for catching on to what he's known for years: Bucky's the best. You can't help but like the guy after spending five minutes with him. Steve never could. Neither could most of Brooklyn.
And Steve's alright with sharing his best friend, because Bucky deserves to be wanted, respected, and liked. So long as the people he's sharing with are good folks, it's all ok.
And so far... he's got a pretty good feeling about these guys.
Steve notices Bucky's personal entourage carrying out a stealth mission over dinner, long before Bucky does.
They each quietly shuffle a little something off of their own trays and onto Buck's in turns, whenever he's distracted talking to someone else. Bucky's eating without looking down -inhaling his food like he hasn't eaten in a week- and he certainly hasn't picked up on the fact that more is going into him than should've been on his plate.
Jones contributes a portion of his potatoes. Morita slides over some bread. Dernier is apparently particularly good at this: He manages to get a whole serving of over-cooked vegetables across the gap between their plates, all while he's making eye contact with Bucky - who never seems to suspect a thing.
Steve says nothing; just nudges his own meal a little closer to Dugan's elbow, and turns a blind eye as the baked apple he'd picked up vanishes from his tray and materializes onto Bucky's.
Dum Dum's got some impressive sleight of hand tricks up his sleeve.
Steve smiles, satisfied that Bucky's in good hands for now, and turns back to Peggy. She just raises an eyebrow, with an expression that clearly says you can't honestly be doing what I think you're doing; but she carries on with the conversation flawlessly and doesn't comment.
He knows she'll dress him down later for giving away food and not eating enough to keep up with his new metabolism, but he's much more concerned about Bucky getting fed than he is about himself right now.
He can take a good scolding for that, if he has to.
"Hey, hands on your own plate!"
Bucky finally catches them at it when Fallsworth manages to drop a chunk of meatloaf off the edge of his knife and onto the edge of the tray. It tips the thing up just enough to make an awful metallic racket, before sliding wetly onto the table with a soft, sloppy noise, and congealing there.
Silence falls.
Bucky finally looks down, then around at the painfully innocent faces that surround him. Most of them are pointedly looking the other way. He rolls his eyes.
"You guys are morons." he says, but he doesn't look mad.
He either doesn't notice or has given up on caring, when his potatoes spontaneously double again the next time his back is turned.
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this last bit. Bucky getting spoiled and loved makes me happy :)