Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jamie had been happily married for five years before he got the 7 year itch. At least, that was the only explanation he could think of for what happened.

Jamie loved his husband. Together, they’d seen the world: Cairo, Bangkok, Milan, Reykjavik, Kiev.  Monty had given Jamie everything he’d ever wanted and then some. With the exception of children--which would have to be adopted or arranged with a surrogate, which made things complicated--Monty was a devoted husband who never passed up a chance to tell Jamie how good he looked and how brilliant he was. The guy literally wrote poetry for him. Still. After five years.

So why was it Jamie couldn’t look away from the sight of Katie’s new neighbor mowing his lawn? The guy was like some homoerotic daydream come true, muscles rippling as he pushed the old-fashioned lawn mower. His worn jeans dangled precariously from cut hips. And when he turned to criss-cross the line he’d just mowed, Jamie could see just the start of the swell of the most beautiful ass.

“Watch out for that one, little brother,” Kate caught him staring. “Fly too close to the sun and you’re gonna get burned.”

“A little harmless ogling never hurt anybody,” Jamie said, his eyes glued to Mr. Wrong’s glistening six-pack. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, finally turning away to slide down the back of the couch. “How the hell do you ever get anything done?!”

His sister laughed at him. “News flash, Jamie. I work an 80 hour week when it’s SLOW. I have way more important things to do than ogling the twunk next door.”

Jamie’s jaw dropped. “Who taught you that word?”

Kate flicked his nose affectionately. “When your brother is a flaming homosexual, you learn things over time. Now, come on. These cookies aren’t gonna bake themselves.”

Four hours later, Jamie was just finishing up loading the car with 10 dozen cookies for the club bake sale in the morning. It was dark, and Kate had left him to load up alone, having gone to bed with a glass of wine after a long day of baking on her day off. Jamie had the last trays balanced on one arm, and he was reaching for his car keys with the other hand. It was a precarious situation even before the deep voice called out, “Behind,” and Adonis in jogging shorts blew by. Jamie tossed his keys in the air in his struggle to keep the still-warm cookies from sliding off onto the ground.

“Shit!” He wound up half-kneeling on the curb, only a few cookies lying ruined in the grass.

“That was some fancy footwork.” The jogging shorts returned, and Jamie found himself nose-to-groin with Mr. Wrong. He tried looking up at the guy’s face, but his eyes just moved from the so-obvious lack of underwear beneath those jogging shorts to the tempting V of the guy’s glory trail, to his abs, up past the huge pecs to his devilish smile.

Oh damn. He’d caught Jamie looking. Of course he had. “You okay, handsome?”

Jamie just stared. He realized he should probably say something. “Uh...yeah,” Jamie managed finally. “I lost a couple soldiers in the skirmish…” He glanced down at the cookies in the grass. “But I think we won. Sort of.” There was still the problem of standing up and finding his car keys without dropping more cookies.

“Here. I got you.” Mr. Wrong swept the trays out of his grip and offered Jamie a hand up. And this was one of those really weird real life meets fantasy life moments. Because it was so damn chivalrous, but Jamie could feel the damp grass soaking through his jeans, knew the stain was forming that he’d have to scrub out by hand when he got home. Meanwhile his knight in shining armor was underwearless and still groin-to-face level.

“Um,” Jamie said, intelligently. He felt weird taking the man’s hand. It was like giving in. Admitting he couldn’t do it alone--a guy no-no. But also, they were alone out here in the dark, which made it...somehow intimate.

Mr. Wrong let out a boyish giggle. That was when Jamie knew he’d waited too long to take his hand. “Gosh. Sorry.” He gripped the offered appendage and found himself hauled to his feet almost too quickly. Jesus, the guy was strong. Jamie overshot and stumbled into him, nearly going face-first into that ample man-cleavage.

“Whoa there!” His smile lit up the night. “You okay?”

Jamie realized the man’s arm was around his waist when his trouser python started to wake up. Oh god. He pulled away quickly, before the other man felt anything stir. “Yeah.” He plastered on a fake smile. “Totally.” Jamie blew out a sigh, ran his fingers through his hair. “Man, I’m such a failure. Thanks for the assist.”

“No you’re not,” the man said calmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Hey, I’ll wait while you find your keys.”

“Oh, right.” Was Jamie getting distracted by his body again? “Sorry. Lemme just open the door so you can put those d--” Then he realised what he was saying. He couldn’t open the car door without his keys. It was Jamie’s habit from living in the city to lock his car, even for a short trip in and out of the house.

His companion giggled again. “God. Sorry. Sorry!” He dove back down into the grass, feeling his way as best he could.

“Need some light?”

Jamie squinted under the sudden LED light. Apparently the guy’s fitbit had a flashlight function. “Handy,” he said.

“I try to be,” Mr. Wrong replied, in the most flirtatious tone possible.

Jamie shook his head, trying to ignore it. Finally. Keys in hand, he got back to his feet and popped the trunk. “Anyway.” He needed to show the guy he wasn’t here to pick up stray joggers, tempting though he was. “Thanks for the help.” He took the trays out of the man’s grip, knuckles accidentally brushing against the fabled 8-pack as he did so. Jamie tried not to whimper out loud. “Enjoy your run,” he told him.

“Oh. I will.” The way his eyes lingered on Jamie as he backed up and turned away made him feel...dirty. Jamie might have actually said bye, but then he noticed it: the bulge in Wrong-o’s shorts had grown. His brain didn’t seem to know how to process that. And the man jogged off without another word.

“What the fuck, Jamie?” he muttered to himself, climbing into the car. He was undersexed, that was all. When he got home, he would wait for his husband to get out of session and then they would have a nice, leisurely video chat shag. And it would be fine. And he would never have to see his sister’s smoking hot neighbor again.

Chapter Text

Jamie loved his husband. They’d met back when he was Starbucksing his way through undergrad. His shop had been near a convention center, which Jamie had actually enjoyed, because he got to meet a lot of interesting single-serves instead of just the usual angry mob of regulars every morning. One day a dashing gentleman had shown up in front of his register, asking for tea. In Starbucks. Jamie had just blinked at him.

“You know our tea is just hot water and a tea bag,” he’d told him. Terrible salesmanship, but Jamie felt honesty was the best policy, especially when you were asking people to pay $3 for literally hot water and a 10cent bag of tea--not even really good tea. The man had an English accent, so Jamie’s guess was he could tell good tea from bad.

“How disappointing.” He’d smiled, and that really should have clued Jamie in. Usually when customers talked about being disappointed, they didn’t smile unless it was that angry smile that foretold a tantrum was imminent. “What would you recommend?” he’d asked, and Jamie saw him checking out his nametag as he tried to think of what a tea drinker might actually like from the hot bar.

“We have chai if you don’t mind things that are overly sweet.”

“I have a weakness for things that are overly sweet,” the man had told him, almost reverently, gazing at Jamie’s face like he’d seen the stars on a clear night for the first time.

Jamie had hidden a smile. The guy was kind of sweet himself. At least, for now. There hadn’t been any cheap pickup lines yet. “What size can I get started for you?” he asked.

“Whatever you think is best,” the man had said, which was actually adorable. Jamie had grabbed a grande and asked for his name for the order.

“Monty,” the man had said, suddenly looking nervous. “Terribly kind of you,” he’d told Jamie as he paid in cash. “Your assistance was greatly appreciated.” He’d moved off to wait for his order, telling Jamie to keep the change from two tens. When Jamie had opened the drawer to split up the bills, he’d found a business card hidden between them. It read:

Lord Falsworth of Dorking

James Montgomery

Hereditary Peer of the Realm

Followed by what Jamie had to assume was an office address, a phone number, and a fax number.

Of course he didn’t look at it closely enough to realize the guy had been a member of parliament until he was on his break an hour later, when he’d spit coffee all over the stock room. Okay, the guy had been cute, and Jamie was a sucker for British accents, which was why he’d pocketed the card instead of tossed it, like he usually did with the phone numbers people slipped him at work. But a lord? Like, an actual member of British nobility? Well Jamie knew he didn’t have a chance in hell of anything but a one-night stand with someone so far out of his league, so he’d tucked the card into his wallet as a memento and gone on with his day.

But the next morning, he’d looked up from refreshing the coffee to find Lord whatsit standing on the other side of the register again, telling his coworker that he would prefer to wait for Jamie to help him. For once, he didn’t mind. He’d come over and greeted him with a smile. “What can I get started for you today, Monty?” He felt like a lightning bolt had been about to strike him dead for addressing a peer of the realm by his nickname, but the guy had started it. This was just standard barista procedure, he’d assured himself. Not flirting or anything, because this would never go anywhere.

“I’m afraid you were right about the chai,” the guy had told him. “It was sickly sweet, but my own fault, as you did give me fair warning.” His smile was tentative, a little shy, but super sweet. Jamie found himself smiling back without even thinking about it. “Perhaps I should try some coffee this morning.”

“Coffee?” Jamie had asked. “Isn’t that, like, against the rules? Don’t you lose your British status if you choose coffee over tea?”

Monty had laughed politely, because it was a stupid joke, and Jamie was already kicking himself for making it. At least he hadn’t been offended by it. “I assure you, though coffee tends not to be preferred, it’s a perfectly acceptable option, though it’s considered quite continental.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Which can be good or bad, dependent upon to whom one is speaking.”

Jamie found himself a little mesmerized by the accent. He was leaning on the register, not really thinking about the morning rush anymore. He wanted to tell Monty to just keep talking, read the menu, the phone book, anything. And then he realized it was his turn to talk, and he’d almost missed the turn of the jump rope.

“Oh! Um...no, I mean. Yeah, of course. Well, the 6th St. blend is nice and mild, if you want to try that. Smooth, too.”

“I’ll take whatever you recommend,” the lord had said, looking at Jamie almost adoringly. Or at least, that was how Jamie read it. He could have been all wrong. That day, he poured the guy his cup, and that was it.

But then he was back the next day, and the next. Finally Jamie asked how long he was in town. Surely the guy had to get back to parliament at some point.

“The truth is,” the man told him, hiding a smile behind his coffee cup. “I can’t imagine a morning without seeing you.”

Wow! Talk about coming on strong. Yet somehow, Jamie wasn’t offended by it, he was affected in the opposite way. It was so sweet. Touching. Adorable, even. He’d glanced around to see if his boss was within hearing distance. She wasn’t, so he’d leaned forward over the register. “I’ll tell you what. If I agree to go out with you, will you fly back to England?” Jamie’s eyes had softened. “I don’t wanna be responsible for robbing the house of one of its lords.”

Monty had pressed his lips together in a conspiratorial smile then, eyes twinkling. “Perhaps I’ll take you with me. Have you ever had high tea at The Royal? It’s rather like going out for coffee, but with a table stacked high with exquisite pastries, and a lovely view to gaze on if we run out of things to say.”

A first date out of the country?! Jamie’s heart leaped into his throat. That sounded amazing. It sounded crazy. He tried to think if his passport was current. “The next time I have two days off together isn’t until Friday.”

“I can wait,” Monty had told him calmly, but his face had lit up like a Christmas tree. Jamie had said yes!

Of course it was insane. Completely insane. Jamie had talked it over with his sisters in a conference call, so that they could both yell at him at once, and also so that they would know what had happened to him if he suddenly disappeared.

“Pretty, that’s so romantic!” Kate had screamed. “You’re making it up!”

“I am not,” Jamie told her, firmly. “I’m really not.”

“Highly suspect,” Becky had said. “Coming to see you every day could either be evidence of autistic or psychopathic behavior.”

“Well, that narrows it down,” he said.

“If he’s autistic, you should marry him,” she said bluntly. “He’ll make a good partner.”

“Well, thanks for that, Becks.” It wasn’t as though he had issues with folks on the spectrum, having grown up with one.  

“Is he handsome?” Kate wanted to know.

“He’s really handsome,” Jamie told her. “Like James Bond meets Hercule Poirot.”

“Wow?” He could tell she was having a hard time picturing it.

“He has a handlebar moustache?” Now Becky was engaged. “Jamie, if he has a handlebar moustache, you have to take a picture and show us!”

Jamie laughed. “I promise to take a picture, but he sadly does not have a tiny waxed handlebar moustache.”

“Dangit!” Becky was clearly very disappointed.

“I don’t think he sounds like a serial killer,” Kate pronounced, finally. “I think he sounds like a rich guy who wants to impress you by throwing his money around. We’ve only ever been to London before. I say go. See the Isle of Wight. Enjoy a mini-vacation and then come home and see how you feel.”

“And don’t put out on the first date,” Becky scolded him firmly.

“Unless you want to,” Kate put in. “But if you do, use protection.”

“Okay, you guys are embarrassing the hell out of me now, so I’m hanging up.”

“Be careful but enjoy yourself and take lots of pictures,” Becky said.

“Have an amazing time,” Kate said. “We’ll be waiting to hear all about it.”

And so he’d gone, and he had had an amazing time. Monty had booked him his own room to nap in before his flight home, so there was no pressure to put out--he didn’t. Monty didn’t seem to do that sort of thing, which was both a relief an a disappointment to Jamie.

There was an amazing chemistry between them he would not have been able to guess from their interactions at the coffee shop. The first time Monty had taken his hand, it was like electricity crackling across his skin. It had made Jamie’s heart beat faster, and of course his palms sweat like crazy. But if Monty noticed, he politely didn’t say so.

And then, after the most lovely afternoon, he’d flown home, dreaming of the next time he could go back.

That was only the first of their dates out of the country. Monty had invited Jamie to dinner in Paris, siesta in Venice, and Oktoberfest in Munich. By then, their dates had gotten longer, and Becky had given him permission to put out--not that Jamie needed it. The sex was vanilla, but amazing. Jamie had never been told ‘I love you’ so many times during lovemaking. Every word out of Monty’s mouth was a compliment, an encouragement, an ego boost. It was overwhelming and addictive.

Of course, after that, he’d had to invite Monty for Thanksgiving at Kate’s. He’d easily charmed both of Jamie’s sisters as easily as he’d charmed Jamie--maybe moreso. And that was in spite of the fact Kate’s date seemed determined to offend him, throwing in how and why America was greater than Britain at every opportunity, and Becky’s husband mining him for statistical data on trains in the UK. The man was obsessed with trains, and drove Jamie up the wall. But Monty took it with good humor and patience, even taking his nieces and nephew out back to teach them some English football while the turkey was roasting. By the end of the night, Kate was telling him to marry Monty, and Becky approved.

To Kate’s dismay, Monty didn’t actually propose until Christmas, but Jamie had more reservations than his eldest sister seemed to. “We’ve hardly been dating for six months!” he told her. “Isn’t this crazy?”

“Pretty, there’s only one question here that really matters. Do you love him?”

Jamie had to think about it. Monty was kind, patient, loving, and indulgent to the point of questionability. But he was sincere. Everything he said was heartfelt and straightforward, which was a breath of fresh air after Jamie’s ex. But, honest, that was what gave him the most doubt. Were they going this fast because Monty seemed so good for him? Was it some kind of rebound after Tony?

And what about Tony? He wasn’t completely out of Jamie’s life--they would never get rid of each other all together. So what did that mean? Jamie knew Monty would find a graceful way to deal with Tony, but would Tony ever be able to accept Jamie marrying someone else?

What scared him was that Tony had disappeared on one of his binges for the first six months of their relationship. Jamie had a bad feeling he was going to turn up one day and set the whole house on fire with his usual shenanigans.

And so he’d finally said yes--on New Year’s Eve in Kyoto-- with the reservation that they have a long engagement, and take plenty of time to think about what their lives would be like together. Of course Monty had no objection to that. Jamie could have told him to wait ten years, and he would have accepted it.

And then it had happened. Tony had come back, crawled out of whatever hole he’d dug himself into, and shown up at Jamie’s apartment one day. Of course, they’d been in Prague at the time. By the time Jamie had gotten home, Tony had been sleeping on his doorstep for three days in the same clothes, wrapped around a bottle of merlot like a hobo. “Tony, what the fuck?”

“Oh, babe!” He’d looked up at Jamie with the saddest brown puppy eyes. “I thought something happened to you.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Jamie had told him, opening the front door. Tony fell inside. “You called Kate to ask where I was.” God, he smelled. “Jesus. Go home and take a shower, Tony. I know you love being dramatic, but this is ridiculous.”

“Is there really a new man in your life?” Tony asked, walking over, cradling his bottle of wine like a baby. “Say it ain’t so.”

Jamie had fixed him with a stern glare. “You have no right--”

Tony had held up a hand. “I know. I know, sugar, you don’t have to say. I fucked up. I don’t deserve to know who’s doing you now, much less tell you if I approve or not. But hear me out.”

“No.” Jamie had turned away, pretended to look through the fridge for something edible.

“I mean, what do you really know about this guy? He’s rich, sure, but so am I. What if he’s like me?”

“He’s not like you, Tony,” Jamie had told him, annoyed. In fact, that was one of the best things about Monty: he was Tony’s polar opposite.

“But what if he is?” Tony had asked, and they’d gone back and forth until Jamie had had to physically push him into the shower and shut the door. Of course that had been a bad idea. Naked Tony Stark in his house was as good as an invitation. But Jamie had made a fresh start. He’d told himself he wasn’t interested in that anymore. In heartache and drama and betrayal over and over again.

But Tony had made a compelling point when he’d gotten out of the shower. Wearing his bathrobe, following him around the apartment, insisting on touching him every few seconds. “Tony, stop!” Jamie had finally turned to swat his hands away. “Go home. Do something with your life.”

“I’m trying,” Tony had said. “I finally figured out what I want to do with my life, and you’re with someone else.” He’d pouted with big brown eyes bared, tugging Jamie’s heart strings.

“I am not a thing to do, Tony.” Man, it made him so angry when Tony manipulated him this way. And it worked, which made him more angry.

“Okay, just tell me this: answer me this one question, and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

Jamie had had to stand back, arms crossed over his chest to protect from those grabby hands. “What?”

“Is the sex as good as it was with me?” That was a terrible question to ask. Sex with Monty was...very affectionate, very vanilla, and very...safe. Jamie knew Monty would have done anything he’d asked him to, the trouble was, he had to ask. He wasn’t creative like Tony. He didn’t get off on risk, on experimentation. He wasn’t the flaming ball of lust Tony was. And so he’d hesitated. And immediately wished he hadn’t. Tony had sauntered away, smirking. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“Get out, Tony. You said you’d get out.”

“Alright.” Tony had opened the robe, let it pool on the floor at his feet. “Let me just get dressed first.” Damn. Tony knew how much Jamie loved his ass. Taunting him with it…

“Fuck you,” he’d growled, crossing the room, intending to throw Tony’s clothes at him and shove him out the door.

But Tony had caught him, literally and figuratively, touching Jamie in a way that shook him to his core, left him standing there, panting. “There’s my angel,” he smirked.

“Go to hell!” Jamie had hated himself in that moment. Hated how much he’d wanted Tony. How he ached inside to be loved and hurt and forgotten over and over again.

“Okay, sunshine.” But he hadn’t gone anywhere. He’d just leaned in and kissed Jamie with warm, soft lips that had traveled down, down, taking Jamie’s resolve and his promise to Monty away with them.

After, he’d lain there, panting, and started to hit Tony, slapping his face and head, anything he could reach. “Hey, stop...why?”

“Why?” Jamie had sat up, holding the sheets at his waist. “You waltz in here after disappearing for six months and ask me why I’m angry you’re trying to wreck the only healthy relationship I’ve ever had?”

“But I love you, honey, I love you,” Tony had soothed, trying to kiss him again.

“Get out!” Jamie had spat. “Get out of my house. And don’t fucking come back again!”

After Tony had left, Jamie had called Monty and tearfully confessed the whole thing. Of course Monty had been forgiving. Monty would forgive Jamie anything. But that wasn’t the point. It had happened, and he wished it hadn’t. The problem was, Tony always came back.

The second time he’d slipped had been after the wedding. Which Tony had attended, sans invitation, and had to be ejected from, multiple times. He seemed to think “speak now or forever hold your peace” just applied whenever he thought it necessary throughout the ceremony and the reception.

Hotel security had finally arrested him and held Tony overnight, giving Jamie and Monty time to fly away on their honeymoon and enjoy their wedding night. When Tony didn’t show up for the next six months, Jamie stupidly thought he might be free of him at last. But it was not to be.

They had just bought their penthouse in New York, and Monty had left Jamie behind for the season to busy himself decorating and interviewing for teaching jobs. Jamie’s credentials went over better in the states, and he liked being closer to his sisters for the bulk of the year. Tony had snuck in with a bunch of workmen who’d been hired to redo the kitchen. “Miss me, babe?”

“Stop calling me babe!” Jamie had snapped. “I’m a married man now, Tony. Respect that.”

“You may be married, but you still love me,” Tony had said. And that was right. It would always be right. But it didn’t mean he didn’t love Monty just as much and want Tony to leave. Which he’d told him.

“Get out, Tony. You’re not welcome here. Didn’t you learn anything from the wedding?”

“What I learned from the wedding…” Tony had gripped Jamie’s waist and backed away, starting to dance. “Is that your husband is boring with a capital B, and he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Fuck you, Tony. My husband is a stellar human being, which is more than can be said for you.”

“I may be a terrible human being,” Tony had murmured into Jamie’s ear, gently swaying. “But you love me. Admit it.You love me.”

“Tony, stop!” Jamie wondered why he was close to tears. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this again. All of this back and forth, you have no idea what it does to me. And have you noticed? You only love me--really love me--when I’m not available. What does that tell you, Tony?”

“That I need more therapy?” he’d asked.

“You’re so funny, Tony. There’s a glib comeback for everything. Well you can’t come back from this. I’m married now. To someone else. Get. Out.”

“Alright, sugar.” Tony had pressed up close, trapping Jamie against a counter. “But remember this.” He molded their bodies together, and a warmth spread through Jamie, familiar and loathed, and nothing he’d ever felt with Monty.

“Just get out of here, Tony.”

“Oh, sweet thing. Don’t cry.” It was Tony’s rough callused fingers against his cheeks that had done it. Awkwardly wiping Jamie’s tears away. Jamie had put his arms around Tony’s neck, and everything had gone to hell. Would it have been different if Monty had been there to hold him?

Even though they were married that time, Monty had still forgiven him. They’d gone for couples therapy after, and then Jamie had gone alone. Because there was nothing wrong with their relationship, but a lot wrong with his and Tony’s relationship. The therapist had recommended Jamie keep his distance from Tony, but it was easier said than done. Tony had ways of finding him, even when he was abroad.

The third time it happened, he’d been on vacation in Greece. They’d rented a house for the summer, and Monty was away on business, as usual, which Jamie could handle. Until Tony had shown up. That time almost broke up their marriage. Monty was forgiving, but there was a pattern that concerned him. He wasn’t sure Jamie really wanted to be with him. “No, I do. I do, honey, I promise!” Why did he keep screwing things up? “It’s just a...something between us...like an addiction. I don’t want to do it, it just happens.”

And so Jamie had had more therapy, and been careful not to be alone with Tony when he did inevitably show up. And five years later, they were at a point where Tony could show up, and Jamie would treat him like a friend, maybe like a wayward little brother, and nothing would happen.

Oddly, Tony seemed satisfied with this. So long as Jamie didn’t kick him out, he was content to hang around for hours, eating Jamie’s food and making smart remarks. And then he’d give Jamie a kiss on the cheek and disappear again. It was almost like he was checking in on him, but Jamie didn’t believe that for a minute. He was not near altruistic enough for that to be true.

And so, having figured out how to deal with Tony, Jamie had thought his infidelity problems solved...

Chapter Text

It was Memorial Day, close to the end of the semester, and Kate had thrown the obligatory barbecue. Why? Because being a small business owner meant doing a lot of networking, kissing a lot of asses, and greasing a lot of palms. Having vendors who like you as a person, so that when your invoices pass the 60 day due date and still aren’t paid, you don’t get cut off.

So why was Jamie here when he should be frantically grading final papers and getting ready to submit grades? Because Kate was a self-made woman, and for her that meant she didn’t have time for men or long-term relationships. And though she was a locally-known pastry chef and a decent cook in general, she couldn’t barbecue and play host at the same time. That job fell to Jamie: to cook enough varied protein to feed close to 100 guests expected throughout the day.

So he toiled out in the hot yard, getting hit with the full reflected heat of the pool deck, feeling the sunburn starting, looking longingly at the pool, where his eldest niece was hosting her own version of Memorial Day for kids. Up and down the waterslide she went, over and over. Jamie had one eye on the kids--because no one else did--and one on the grill.

His sister made runs to and from the table to replenish the picnic supply of burgers--every kind from veggie to turkey to buffalo--sausage with peppers and onions, hot dogs, hot links, grilled fruit and grilled corn on the cob. Roasting the corn made him think of their first trip to Mexico City, about elote from street vendors, and how sexy it was to hear his husband speaking fluent Spanish. The way the cotija cheese would get left behind in Monty’s moustache, and how much he enjoyed kissing it away when they were alone again.

All of a sudden, he was very homesick for his husband, whom he hadn’t seen for two months outside of video conferences and snapchats. And before he knew it, the burgers were burning and children were yelling, and Jamie really needed to sit down.

“She’s got you out here all by yourself?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“Yeah.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “At least until my good-for-nothing brother-in-law gets here.”

“I thought she wasn’t married.”

Jamie turned to see who it was, just so he could get an idea of who was interested in his sister’s marital status. He was shocked to find Mr. Wrong, casually holding a beer, wearing his jogging shorts and a two sizes too small t-shirt that said Free Hugs. “Kate’s not,” Jamie managed to get his tongue working again. “I have two sisters.”

“I have one,” Mr. Wrong volunteered. “Mind if I take over for a little bit?” He indicated the grill. Tired, maybe a little exhausted from the heat, Jamie gladly took a step back, handing over his tongs and spatula.

“I actually don’t mind mine overdone,” he confessed, chatting easily, as if they’d done this hundreds of times before. Jamie just watched the way he cleared the grill with ease, then set it all up for another pass, just the way Jamie had had it going all morning. “But why don’t we make a fresh batch for the real guests? You know how these rich people are.”

“Rich...people?” Jamie felt like he’d lost a page in the story.

“Come on,” Mr. Wrong cast a sardonic look over one muscular shoulder. “You don’t really think I grew up here, did you?”

“I don’t…” Why wouldn’t Jamie’s mouth work? “I didn’t really guess.”

“Well that’s fair.”

“So why?” Mr. Wrong asked with the hint of a smile.

“Why what?” Jamie asked, confused. Maybe he really did have heat stroke.

“Why didn’t you guess if I was from here or not?”

“Why--w--” What did that question even mean? Had the guy noticed Buck staring? Had he been that obvious? Or was he offended that Jamie hadn’t been thinking about him more? Or was this some totally unrelated question that he was simply taking the wrong way?

“I could tell you weren’t from here the first time we met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” And why would Mr. Wrong wonder where he was from after bumping into him from his nightly jog?

“It’s your accent,” he explained, flipping a veggie burger. “Brooklyn, right?”

Jamie was speechless, just standing there, stunned. “Yeah...how’d you know?”

Mr. Wrong smiled, and his smile was so right. “Takes one to know one.” And this time when he spoke, it wasn’t all-American boy, but bona fide Brooklyn street thug.

“You’re kidding.”

“The Heights,” Mr. Wrong smiled. “All the way.” Jamie found a lawn chair, lowered himself into it. “Here.” An ice-cold water bottle landed in his lap. “You don’t look so good. Why aren’t you wearing a hat?”

Jamie looked up at him, feeling indignant until he realized the guy had a snapback on. The logo was...British football? “I don’t need a hat to barbecue,” Jamie told him.

“No, but don’t think that olive skin is gonna protect you from skin cancer if you’re out here in the hot sun without protection.”

Protection. Why did Jamie’s mind skip automatically to condoms? Probably because his eyes were at ass-level right now. He willed his gaze to travel upwards. “Man, you really don’t look so good.” Mr. Wrong left the grill, came to squat in front of Jamie’s chair. It certainly did nothing for his mild vertigo. “Drink,” he ordered, scooping the bottle out of Jamie’s numb lap. Wait, was that a dick-touch? The sad bit was, he honestly couldn’t tell, thanks to the numbness. “Maybe you oughtta go inside for a little bit.”

“Can’t,” Jamie said, unscrewing the top off the water bottle. He nodded toward the pool. “I’ve gotta keep an eye on the kids. No lifeguard.”

Mr. Wrong frowned, noticing for the first time. “Hey, you’re right. Seriously, none of the grown-ups are over here but you?” Jamie shook his head no. “Damn breeders,” Mr. Wrong muttered, moving the dogs around the grill, and Jamie’s heart nearly shot through the top of his head.

“I’m sorry?” Now his heart was back in his throat. Was Mr. Wrong queer? Could it be? But hadn’t Kate said he was taken???

“Some people just shouldn’t have kids, you know what I mean?” he said, not looking up at Jamie.

“Yeah…” he replied slowly. “I kinda do.” But his eyes were narrowed now. Mr. Wrong may not have been ready to admit it, but he’d totally heard an anti-het slur just now.

“So here’s the deal.” He looked up, took in the kids in and around the pool, then looked over at Jamie. Wow, those were pretty eyes. Blue, but not like his. They were the color of a sunny sky over the ocean in the Caribbean.

“Hm?” Jamie felt half-stupid. He took another swig of water.

“You’re gonna be the lifeguard…” He took off his hat and popped it on Jamie’s head. “And I’m gonna be the grillmaster. Sound fair?”

Jamie adjusted the bill of the hat so that he could look up at the guy. “You sure? There’s no pay in it for you.”

A sly smile spread over his face. “Maybe I’m not here for the money.” Jamie wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he sat back and focused on the kids, on drinking and cooling down a little. When Mr. Wrong announced the grill was ready to be cleared, he grabbed the tray and carried the food over to the buffet, unloaded it, and came back.

“You’re pretty good at this,” he told the guy, wishing he’d asked his name or at least introduced himself that first night. The grill was already humming away with another batch.

“Yeah, well. One thing we got really good at in the army at Ramadi, and that was grilling. Got so’s we could have a barbecue just about any place.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “You’d cringe at some of the stuff we used to try grilling.”

“Not MREs?” Jamie smiled. He only knew that term from a guy Katie used to date. Military type. A lot of fun. Just wasn’t into a single mom in the end, unfortunately.

“Yup, those. Though mostly we unpacked ‘em first.” He gave Jamie a wink, which made him grin and turn away. All of a sudden, he looked out at the kids in the pool. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, though. All of the kids he could see looked to be laughing and having fun. But something in Jamie still said something was wrong.

“What is it?” Mr. Wrong was at his elbow, food forgotten on the grill.

“Something’s...I don’t know…” He started to walk closer to the pool, count heads, look under the water, but before he could get there, Mr. Wrong was rushing past him, tearing off his shirt. Jamie would have been turned on, but something was wrong, and this wasn’t the time.

Mr. Wrong performed a perfect swan-dive into the water, disappeared beneath the surface and didn’t come up until he’d grabbed a little redheaded girl with pigtails around the shoulders. He was talking to her, but Jamie couldn’t hear over the party. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He’d counted the little girl in his head count. She’d been fine the whole time, so what was it? What was the wrong thing he’d felt? He was at the edge of the pool, searching the bottom with his eyes when Mr. Wrong hauled the little girl out of the water.

“You got a good eye, Barnes,” he told Jamie, sitting down on the hot concrete with the girl cradled in his lap. He leaned her forward, told her to put her arms out, and started pounding on her back. She began to cough, and maybe a gallon of water came out. “You’re gonna be okay, honey. No more water for you today. What did you say your name was?”

“M-Maryjane,” the girl managed to gasp out, between puking water and catching her breath.

“Alright, Maryjane. You’re safe now.” Once the girl had coughed up her share of the pool, she turned around and buried her face in Mr. Wrong’s hairy chest, sobbing. He held her like a dad, firm but gentle, and just let her cling. How this guy didn’t have kids, Jamie would never know. He tried not to be jealous of the little girl. Those were some big pecs she’d shoved her face between.

All he saw at first were a pair of long legs in high-heeled sandals. “Excuse me,” the legs said. “Why are you touching my daughter?”

Mr. Wrong was a different person when he turned to the woman, his face dangerously angry. “Hey, cutie, take over for me?” He stood, passing the little girl over to Jamie, who blinked.

Cutie? He took the little girl, though, who was still pale, and was now shivering from the breeze. He wrapped her in a towel and sat her in his lap on the chair, rubbing her back. Just what he’d do with his niece.

“Hi, Maryjane. My name’s Jamie. Do you like hamburgers?” She shrugged. “Wanna see what a burned hamburger looks like?” She nodded. What small child didn’t enjoy fire and chaos? He picked her up and carried her over to the grill. It was warmer over the coals. Jamie gave her the tongs and let her move the burned meat around the grill while he eavesdropped on Mr. Wrong and the mom.

“What’s the big idea, lady? Your daughter almost drowned. Did you seriously send her to a pool party unattended, knowing she can’t swim?”

“That’s not possible. That pool’s so shallow, and all the other children--”

“All the other children can swim or are staying out of the water, or have floaties or life vests. Where’s hers?” He proceeded to read the woman to filth as she got more and more defensive.

“Celia, who is this man?” Wow, their whole family seemed to be defensive assholes. But the balding middle-aged man was clearly not in his wife’s league. Of course he’d get his back up when he found her talking to Mr. Wrong.

“This man claims he found Maryjane drowning in the pool! Ridiculous!”

“Maryjane was in the pool? What the hell was she doing in the pool, Celia, she can’t swim! I thought she was going to play in the treehouse!” Jamie watched as the parents turn on each other in a nasty way. He encouraged Maryjane to help him clear the grill and then carried her across the yard to the treehouse he’d built Julie in the old elm.

“Wow, Jamie, it’s like a fort!”

He smiled at her. “Pretty cool, huh? Hey, are you feeling warmer now? Want a fresh towel?”

“No thanks. I like this one!” She knotted it around her neck, like a cape, and made flying motions with her arms.

“Wow, what superhero are you?” he asked--because he’d found it was always better to ask than to guess. Not just because he believed children shouldn’t be put in boxes, but because the answers they came up with on their own were usually way better than what you’d guess for them.

“I’m Jane of the Jungle!” she announced. “And you have to fight me if you want to sit in my treehouse!”

“Whoa.” Jamie backed up, looking intimidated.

“Not you, Jamie!” she laughed. “Those stupid boys!” She pointed at some grubby boys around her own age, trying to climb in the front door.

“Okay, well. No pushing each other out of the treehouse in fun, okay?” Even if he had built it two feet off the ground, no one needed a broken arm today.

“You got it, Captain!” She saluted him and ran over to tell the boys the bad news. Jamie discreetly let himself out the nearest window.

And backed right into the hairy chest of one Mr. Wrong. “Oh, jeez!” He tried not to jump too high. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

His grin was wide. “But I saw you there, handsome. How is she?”

Jamie would have reacted to the second random and inappropriate compliment, but he was thrown off by Mr. Wrong asking about Maryjane. “Seems good. Kids bounce back so fast.”

“They really do,” he nodded.

“How are her parents?” Jamie asked.

“Oh, probably getting a divorce later this year.” He said it with a straight face, so Jamie couldn’t tell if he was joking. “But the dad seems to give a fuck, so my money’s on him for custody if it comes down to it.” He took in the perplexed look on Jamie’s face and misread it. “Oh, my bad. Military, swearing. Still trying to train myself out of it.”

Jamie shrugged, nonplussed. “Brooklyn, remember?”

“Hey, we’re in Connecticut now,” Mr. Wrong grinned. “People don’t swear for punctuation around here.”

“Well, what the fuck do they know?” Jamie asked, grinning.

“Exactly. Hey, wanna go grab a beer?”

“Sure.” Jamie glanced back toward the buffet table. “Are we out?”

“Of that watered-down hipster water?” Mr. Wrong made a face. “No. But I’ve been craving some guinness since I saw it in the fridge earlier.”

“What were you doing in my sister’s fridge?” Jamie asked, smelling a rat. If he was going through Kate’s kitchen, surely he was interested, right? No guy did that to a woman’s house he didn’t plan on sleeping in. At least from what Jamie had heard…

Mr. Wrong rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t be jealous. We were out of mayo. I just volunteered to grab more.” Jamie looked like he didn’t buy it. “You were in charge of the grill--come on! Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Uh-huh.” But Jamie leads the way into the house anyway. They find the bulk of dads in the family room watching the game.

“What? No one said we were allowed to watch sports during the picnic!” Mr. Wrong sounded as offended as any heterosexual man forced to socialize with families instead of watch baseball.

Jamie shook his head. “Go on. I’ll grab you a bottle.”

“What? And abandon my partner before we complete our mission?” he grinned. “No way!”

The guy was weird. Jamie couldn’t figure him out. It was like he was flirting, only not. He would shut him down, but...maybe he was wrong. And he was sure Kate had said the guy was taken.

In the kitchen, Jamie opened the polished steel two-door Frigidaire and leaned in to dig through the enormous stash of food Kate kept on hand for entertaining emergencies. “You said there was Guinness?” he called back over his shoulder. Because he wasn’t seeing it between fruit trays and antipasto plates.

“Trust me, I’m Irish,” the man’s voice was muffled by the candied ham next to Jamie’s head. “I can always find the Guinness.” And suddenly a large, warm body was sliding up behind him, curling around Jamie up close and personal, so that he can feel every muscle in that cut 6-pack.

“Hey, what the--?!”

“Theeere it is.” His strong hand grabbed a bottle from the shelf below the one Jamie had climbed into, and then his non consensual spoon was moving away.

He pushed himself out of the fridge, breathing hard. Slamming the doors shut, he leaned against them. It was not an erection, it was a physical manifestation of his outrage at being spooned in his sister’s kitchen. “Everything okay there, cutie?” Mr. Wrong asked behind him, sounding almost seductive, smug. He knew exactly what he’d just done.

“Listen,” Jamie breathed deeply, holding onto the door handles for moral support. “I feel like maybe I’ve been sending you the wrong signals. Or maybe you’ve been reading them wrong, because I think you should know--”

“You’re gay, right? Trust me, gorgeous, I can tell. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Jamie turned to glare at him. “I’m not--that’s not what I’m trying to say!” Why was he feeling so defensive? And why did the guy have to imply (again) that he was queer? That was not playing fair.

“Oh yeah?” Mr. Wrong leaned close, wrapping his lips around the rim of his beer bottle. Jamie could feel his body heat again.

Jesus. Why does he smell so good? “Look, I’m--” he hated the part of himself that didn’t want to tell him. “You should know I’m married. Sorry if I’ve been sending mixed signals. You’re really hot.”

His grin was smug, too. “Well that’s nothing to apologize for.” He held up his left hand, wiggled the gold band on his ring finger. “I’m married, too. So I guess that makes us even.”

“Then why--if you’re married, I’m really lost.” Jamie crossed his arms and leaned back against the fridge.

Mr. Wrong was just smiling that dazzling smile, shooting it right into Jamie’s eyes, like he was trying to hypnotize him. “We have an agreement. My partner and me.”

Partner? So he’s with a guy, too? Jamie never would have guessed. He was so all-American boy. He didn’t ping the gaydar at all.

“She’s away a lot...for work, and.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Well, there are things she can’t do for me. Not really.”

She? Jamie was tired of this informational roller coaster. He should really have known better than to guess at this point. “So you have her permission to hook up with guys.”

“Pretty much,” Mr. Wrong said.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “What does ‘pretty much’ mean?”

“Oh, I have her permission,” he reassured Jamie. “I just...I don’t go to bars or cruise or anything like that. I’m pretty much a homebody.” He shrugged. “And I like it that way.”

Jamie crossed his ankles, getting comfortable. “So she gave you permission to date guys, knowing that you probably wouldn’t meet any.”

“No, no.” He wagged his beer bottle, as if shaking his head no. “She’s not like that. See, Peg’s real social. It’s part of her job. I think sometimes she just forgets I’m not as...much.”

Jamie was not buying it for a second. “So you’re trying to tell me that you’re the shy, introverted type, who just stays at home all day but can hook up with guys he’s attracted to if he happens to meet one by never leaving his house.”

His grin was embarrassed. “Yeah. I guess that’s about it. Never realized how dumb it sounded before you said it out loud.”

Jamie shook his head. “Well news flash, Mr. Homebody who’s conveniently available to hook up at my sister’s barbecue: I do not cheat on my husband. Whether I leave the house or not.”

“That’s probably better,” Mr. Wrong nodded. “All those hot twinks in your college classes. It’d be too much temptation.”

Jamie was outraged. “Just what the hell kind of professor do you think I am?! My students are impressionable young people. They’re there to learn!”

Mr. Wrong rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and you never saw one almost too pretty to be real. Come on. All gay guys love ephebes. Even if you don’t hook up with ‘em, they’re a thing of beauty.”

“You watch too much porn,” Jamie snarled, kicking away from the refrigerator, ready to storm off.

“Okay, I messed up. I get it.”

Why wasn’t he leaving? “That was super offensive.”

“Yeah, I get that. I was tryin’ to make a joke and it just came out...stupid. I’m really sorry.”

How could he look so hot and so apologetic at the same time?

“Look, we clearly got off on the wrong foot, so I wanna start over.” He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Steve. I live across the street from your sister. My wife’s never home, so I get lonely. I’m kinda new in town, so I came over to see if I could make some local friends. Maybe find some nice guys to hang out with.”  

“Or have sex with,” Jamie said, not shaking his hand.

Steve looked at his extended hand, let it drop, kind of depressed. “Aw, come on. At least tell me your name.”

“You know I teach college, that I’m Kate’s brother...” That I’m gay and married to a man, he thought. “But you don’t know my name? Come on. Who’re you foolin’?”

“Well.” Steve leaned back against the counter, sipping his beer with sinful lips. “Heard your name was James, but you don’t look like a James to me.”

“No?” Jamie raised his eyebrows. “What do I look like?”

“Julie calls you Uncle Jimmy, but that don’t sound right either.”

Jamie tried not to cringe. He’d hated that nickname ever since he hit puberty. It was so...childish.

“Dunno any grown men who go by that. ‘Cept your stereotypical drunken Irishman. In Ireland.”

He shrugged. That pretty much described the uncle after whom he was named in a nutshell.

Steve gestured with his beer bottle. “I bet your husband calls you Jamie.”

He clutched his chest. Too close. How did he guess that? It wasn’t even a derivative of James, honestly.

“But, eeeeh.” Steve waggled his beer bottle. “That’s not quite right either.”

“You’re saying what my husband calls me isn’t right?” He was about to get his back up again.

“Yeah, see?” Steve offered a lopsided grin. “Called it. No, you don’t look like a Jamie to me.”

“Really.” His tone was flat.

“No, you look more like a...what’s your middle name?”

He snorted. That’s a total dead-end, Mr. Smooth. Thanks for playing. “Buchanan.”

“Buchanan.” Steve rubbed his chin, thinking about this. “Buchanan...Scottish, but not bad.”

“You...know your Gaelic family names.” He was a little freaked out now, because when most people found out his middle name, they assumed he was named after the president. Not the Scottish clan of his father’s ancestors.

Steve shrugged, modest. “Like I said, I’m Irish.”

He didn’t understand what that had to do with it, but now his scholarly mind was starting to get interested. Did he know family histories, too? And how? Written accounts? Oral family histories? If so, he would love to hear more-- wait, no! he chided himself. I am not getting interested in this blowhard beefcake manwhore.

Then Steve’s eyes lit up, and it was all over. He raised his bottle of beer, like it was the proverbial light bulb of inspiration. “Bucky.”

“I’m sorry, what?” What the hell was he talking about?

“That’s what you look like to me: a Bucky.”

“A Bucky.” He was not amused.

“Yup. Sorry, sport. You’re Bucky now. I’m not changin’ my mind.”

“Fuck you!” Jamie was spitting mad. “You can’t just go around renaming people!”

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t. I just found the right name for you.”

“You’re a self-important ass, you know that?”

A slow grin spread over Steve’s face. “But which one of us is the one with a Ph.D?”

“ Fuck you.”  

His grin widened. “Like I said, cutie. You’re interested, I’m in.” His eyes looked Jamie up and down like he was a plate of ribs and Steve was hungry. “So in.”

“That’s--!” Jamie didn’t have the right insult in his head right now, but he’d think of one. The nerve! He growled in frustration and stormed off.

“You know where to find me,” Steve called after him.

“I hope you choke on your beer!” Jamie snarled, wondering why he was so worked up over this. This wasn’t the first time he’d been hit on since he’d been married. Over the years, he’d heard every cheesy line in the book, but this guy? Somehow this guy took the cake.

Chapter Text

It was the height of summer, and lawn mowing season was in full force. Jamie found himself going over to Kate’s more and more. It turned out Mr. Wrong liked to garden. Or at least walk around his lawn shirtless a lot. Jamie would sit in the window for hours, watching him trim the hedges, work out, do yoga. “You’re a disgrace,” Kate teased him. “A married man, looking at another man like that.”

“He’s so beautiful,” Jamie sighed.

“I don’t see what’s so great about him,” his niece said. “He’s all weird and lumpy from all the muscles.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agreed, staring at him, wistful.

“Mom, Uncle Jimmy’s acting weird.”

“Don’t worry, bugbug,” Kate had said. “He was born that way.”

“Very funny,” Jamie turned around to snark at them.

“You know he knows you’re watching,” his sister told him.

“What?” Jamie quickly backed out of the window. “No. No way.”

“Yes way!” Kate insisted. “He’s hardly ever out in the yard unless you’re here.”

“Oh come on, Katie, he clearly is one of those guys that just likes to work outside.”

“And if you believe that,” his sister said, “I know a bridge in Brooklyn that might interest you.” Jamie rolled his eyes at her. But he did wonder.

After that, he decided to test her theory. He parked his car around the corner and snuck in through the garage. No Steve in the yard. About halfway through the afternoon, however, someone rang the doorbell. Jamie’s niece was more than happy to jump up from doing her homework and run to the door. “Moooom, it’s Mr. Rogers!” she announced, walking back into the kitchen, disappointed.

Jamie was just wondering who the hell Mr. Rogers was (apart from a PBS personality) when Steve strolled into the room. He looked as surprised to see Jamie as Jamie was to see him. “Oh, hi!” His bright smile turned on Jamie like a spotlight. “Sunday’s usually baking day. Your sister lets me have the ugly ones.”

“Oh yeah?” Jamie smirked. “That the only reason you come over?” He was still half-convinced that Steve was interested in Kate. Sure, he was supposedly married, but no one ever saw his wife, and Jamie couldn’t help but notice he never wore a wedding band. Mr. Wrong wasn’t right for him, of course, but he might not be a bad choice for Kate--if there was some weird marriage sham thing going on, that was.

“Well, usually.” Steve tugged his shirt off, using the fabric to dab his sweat. Jamie was suddenly blind from the view. “But if I’d known you were here, I’da come over sooner.”

“Uncle Jimmy parked around the corner,” Julie told on him. “He wanted to see if you’d work in the yard if he wasn’t here.”

Steve laughed. “You guys’re onto me, huh? Can’t pull anything over on you Barneses.” To Jamie’s surprise, Julie started punching him, and Steve caught her punches in his palms, as if it were a routine they’d practiced before. Behind them, Kate walked in.

“Oh, hi, Steve.”

He straightened up to greet her. “Hey, Katie. I was just tellin’ your brother here I woulda stopped by sooner if I’d known he was visiting.”

“Really?” Kate gave Jamie the ‘I told you so’ glare over Steve’s shoulder. “And why is that?”

Steve turned to look at Jamie again as he answered, “Oh, probably because he’s only the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen.” While Jamie blushed and seriously considered running from the room, Steve turned back to Kate. “I like to bask in the glow, you know?” Julie leaned forward in her chair, staring curiously at her uncle as though she might have missed this important detail about him before.

“You’re shameless!” she scolded him, smiling.

“I believe in being honest,” Steve said. “Besides, I have permission.” He glanced longingly at Jamie, who was packing up his briefcase.

“I gotta head out, Kate. Text me later, okay?”

Kate handed Steve a paper bag of broken and imperfect cookies. “You should really hire out your services as human garbage disposal,” she teased him.

“Ma’am, if all leftovers were as good as yours, I’d be way too fat to charge for that service.” He gave her a sideways hug and walked down the hall toward the door, conveniently following Jamie’s exit. Once they were outside, he increased his pace so that they were touching.

“What are you doing?” Jamie demanded, pulling away reluctantly. That hard body had felt a little too good.

“You think any more about my offer?” Steve asked softly.

“There’s nothing to think about!” Jamie told him hotly. “I’m a married man. To SOME people that means something.”

“Come on.” Steve followed him to the car. “How often do you see your husband in a year. Three months? Two?”

“I see him way more than that,” Jamie said, fumbling his keys and dropping them into the grass. Of course, Steve bent to pick them up. He looked up at Jamie from where he knelt in the grass, his blue eyes angelic. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Watch it, Jamie , he told himself. Almost lost your train of thought there.

“Come on, you honestly think he would mind?” Steve stood up, suddenly a little too close to Jamie. “He can’t expect you to go that long without…”

“I told you.” Jamie’s nostrils flared. “It’s never that long.”

“Never?” Steve seemed to sense the lie.

“Rarely.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“And for your information,” Jamie continued. “He does mind. He minds a lot. So just back off.” He moved away from Steve and his aura of fashion model before it was too late.

“So it’s happened before.” Steve looked intrigued. And Jamie immediately regretted having brought it up.

“I--I didn’t say that.”

“But it did, didn’t it?”

“I--don’t feel like it’s appropriate to be discussing this with you.”

“Aw, come on, professor.” Steve had him trapped between his sexy boy next door smile and the car, not touching him, but not really giving Jamie an easy way to move away from him either. “If you’re gonna teach me a lesson, teach me.”

That sounds wrong , Jamie thought. Like sexual roleplay. And then he pictured it. For a split second, and immediately regretted it. Calm thoughts, I love my husband, puppies, midterm papers, department review boards…

“So what did he say that time?” Steve asked, and Jamie could feel hot breath on his ear.

“He said, next time--” Why was he even answering? “He said next time, let’s talk first.”

Steve laughed, pleased. “So he just wants you to ask permission. Were you a bad boy, Jamie? Did you cheat on your husband more than once already?”

Jamie couldn’t answer, but he looked away, face red. “It’s complicated,” he ground out, needing Steve to back away, to stop pinning him in place with his body heat.

“Alright, I get it.” And finally, Steve did back off. “Well, look, you know where to find me. I mean, if you’re interested in more than watching me mow the lawn.” He offered one last boyish smile before turning to head back home.

Jamie hated himself for watching him leave. Needing to see every twitch of those glutes as he made his way back down the street.

Jamie had to tell Monty. He couldn’t pretend it was just looking anymore. And his husband deserved to know.

Afterwards, Monty was quiet for several moments, until Jamie thought he was going to stop breathing from anxiety. “Well, darling,” he said at last. “What would you like to do? It certainly seems this fellow is interested.”

“He’s just cute,” Jamie said, trying to brush it off. “That’s all. He’s just...just one of those attractive people. Like an actor or something.”

“But surely there’s more to it, my love,” Monty coaxed. “You’ve gone back quite a bit. I do feel personally responsible for leaving you alone so long.”

“It’s not that,” Jamie sighed. “School will be over soon enough, and I can come join you at home. I just…”

“Go on, Jamie.”

“I just wish I wasn’t tempted. It makes me feel weak. Like a bad person.” He sighed. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course not,” Monty said. “You deserve a great deal better than this pitiful man I am. But I adore you for tolerating me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jamie huffed a laugh. But it was Monty’s standard response to Jamie saying he was too good for him.

“My love, you are tempted, perhaps you should simply give this a go, get it out of your system.”

“But Monty--”

“Of course the final decision is up to you, darling. I trust you, no matter what. And to be perfectly honest, I’m quite relieved it’s not that awful Stark fellow again.”

Jamie felt horrible all over again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered with dismay.

“Now, now, my love. We’ve put all that behind us. A little experimentation never hurt anyone. And if I know you, once you take this fellow up on his offer, you’ll lose interest. It’s the cycle of guilt you’re addicted to. And I wish you’d be more kind to yourself.”

Jamie thought he was going to cry. “You’re giving me permission to cheat and telling me I should be more kind to MYSELF?”

“I am, my darling. And...should you decide to go through with this, we’ll talk all about it after. You can describe the highs and the lows, and well. Who knows? Perhaps I might meet him at some point in the future and decide to have a go myself.”

Jamie laughed. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I don’t know, darling,” he smiled, “I said I would consider other methods of making our intimate time more interesting for you.”

“This is not what I meant,” Jamie said, hurriedly.

“No, but. Perhaps adding a third partner is something we might consider.”

“I don’t know.” Jamie squirmed in his chair a little. The idea of sharing Steve with Monty was frustrating and arousing. “Maybe.”

“Whatever happens,” Monty told him. “You know I love you.”

Jamie felt like hell. “You’re the best partner anyone could ever have, you know that?”

“And you are truly the most beautiful person inside and out. I’m foolishly lucky to have married you.”

They talked about more inconsequential things, and finally rang off. And Jamie lay in bed, thinking of whether or not he should take Steve up on his offer. Monty was right. The likelihood Jamie would lose interest after the first kiss was high. Now that he had permission, it seemed much less tempting. So why was he spending so much time considering it?

Chapter Text

It was about this time that Kate went out of town for a conference. She took Julie, because it was close enough to the end of school that all they were doing was watching movies and throwing cupcake parties anyway. Of course Jamie was her housesitter of choice. Of course. Jamie felt that the plants could survive without being watered for a week or two, but sadly the cat could not. He taught Monday Wednesday, so Jamie came out after rush hour Tuesday to make sure nothing had gone awry.

The cat was nowhere to be seen, but she was like that. The food they’d left out for her was gone, and the water bowl was getting pretty low, too. That meant she was here somewhere. Jamie refreshed both, and watched the white Persian saunter out to flip her tail at him and daintily lick her food.

He was just sitting down to grade some papers when the doorbell rang. Hoping it wasn’t Jehovah’s Witnesses, Jamie shuffled quietly to the door and peered out without moving the curtain. It was Steve. What the hell? He opened the door. “What do you want?”

“Well, good morning to you, too.” Steve offered a sunny smile. “I saw your car and thought I’d come over.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Whaddayou mean ‘why’? Because you’re all alone in this big house and I’m all alone in my big house. It just makes more sense to be alone together.”

“That makes no sense,” Jamie said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Man, you are a hard sell,” Steve observed. “What if I just said I’m lonely?” He offered sad puppy eyes.

Jamie rolled his eyes and stepped back from the door. “Fine. But no funny business,” he warned, walking back toward the kitchen.

Steve strolled over to the TV on the far wall and put on Food Network. It was one of Paula Dean’s cooking shows.

“Please.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “Hasn’t the world had enough butter?”

“Okay, fine,” Steve said. “What would you watch?”

“I wouldn’t watch anything,” Jamie told him. “I’m trying to work.”

“What, and you have to do it in total quiet? Come on.”

“It helps, yeah,” Jamie said, feeling testy. “Have you ever tried to grade a college level paper before? There’s a level of hell reserved just for this. Trust me.”

“What? It can’t be that bad.” He walked over to the table to look. When had he taken his shoes off?

“Trust me,” Jamie said, putting his red pen to work.

Steve picked up a random paper off the pile. “Sacajawea--spelled wrong--was really important for history because she helped Lewis and Clark and she was a teenage mom.’ Woooow.”

“You have no idea,” Jamie told him, coming to the end of yet another thrilling read. He graded it and set it aside. “That’s one of the ones they put EFFORT into.”

“But that’s like.” Steve sat down in the chair next to him. “Like sixth grade level, am I wrong? My little sister is in high school and she could do better than this.”

“Oh yeah?” Jamie looked up, taking another look at Steve. Were there things he didn’t know about him? Was he more interesting than his beefy exterior portended? Maybe he hadn’t really been giving Steve a chance as a person. He had been the ultimate hero of the day at Kate’s barbecue.

Steve’s full lips pressed together in a smirk. “What, you don’t believe a bonehead like me could have a sister?”

Jamie snorted. “That’s not what that was at all.”

“Here, I’ll show you a picture.” He took out his phone and held up the lock screen. It showed an adorably tomboyish teenage girl with a spray of freckles across her nose and hair an even lighter shade of blond than Steve’s.

“Cute kid.” Jamie said.

“Look, Barnes.” Steve pretended to be defensive. “I know she’s adorable, but she’s off-limits.” Then his face split in a grin to show he’d been joking. “At least to the boys.”

“Wow, really?”

“Ohhh yeah.” Steve sat back, looking briefly at his phone before tucking it away. “Pat’s quite the heartbreaker. Think she’s on her...fourth girlfriend this school year?”

“Mazeltov.” He wanted to say breaking hearts must run in the Rogers family, but that might sound like flirting, and he refused to do that.

But Steve was looking fondly at the table, thinking of something else. “I like to think I raised her right.”

“You...what?” Jamie was stunned. Was there some tragic backstory he’d been missing?

“Look, our mom was a doctor. It’s not like she was around much when I was growing up. Then Pat came along, and I knew how it was gonna be, so. I just took over. I’d say she came out okay, all things considered.”

“Where does she live now?” Jamie wanted to know.

“Aw, she’s off at boarding school.”

Boarding school?? So much for raising a child yourself.

Steve seemed to sense Jamie’s reaction. “Yeah, I wasn’t crazy about it either, but Peggy said she’d have more opportunities if she started hobnobbing with the right people.” He shook his head. “I don’t know about hobbing, but she sure has been nobbing.” He grinned, boyish and naughty. “Apparently boarding school girls are a lot more open to experimentation than public school girls were.”

Jamie was just blinking. How was this okay?

“Anyway, she’ll be home over the break. Maybe you can meet her.”

Jamie tried to guess the right response to meeting your wannabe something on the side’s teenage sister. “I’d like that.” Wait, would he? If nothing else, she’d have some stories about Steve. And apparently he wanted to hear them. Jamie found himself starting to wonder about Steve as a person, and that was dangerous territory, but it also meant he wasn’t thinking of Steve as just a side of beef anymore. Monty was right. The chances of cheating were going down.

Steve leaned forward, covering one of Jamie’s hands with his own. “Maybe the three of us could go out for dinner sometime. Nothing fancy, but like a drive-in diner or something. Pat loves kitschy retro stuff like that.”

Jamie didn’t know what to say. “Did you just use your sister as an excuse to ask me out?”

Steve’s sheepish grin was entirely too adorable. “Caught that, did you?”

“Um. Yeah.” Jamie rolled his eyes and got up to boil more hot water for tea.

“So is that a no?” Steve wanted to know.

Jamie shook his head. “If it’s not a date and we have a chaperone…”

“Why would we need a chaperone if it wasn’t a date?” Steve grinned.

“Shut up.” Jamie grimaced and opened the cabinet to get more tea.

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed.” Steve was suddenly right behind him.

“Well, I must be fucking adorable right now,” he snapped, wishing Steve would move away. His hard body had this aura that made Jamie distinctly uncomfortable when he was standing too close.

“I’ll say.” Steve didn’t touch him with his hands, but he did lean forward to rest his chin on Jamie’s shoulder. “Whatcha doin’?”

Jamie shrugged his shoulder, trying to shrug off Steve at the same time. “I’m making a four course meal. What does it look like I’m doing, Rogers?”

“If you are hungry, I could make you somethin’. I know my way around a kitchen.”

“You say that like I don’t.” Jamie grabbed the tea bag he wanted and dipped to the side, thus escaping Steve’s chin.

“I’ll take some tea,” Steve said, finally realizing what Jamie was doing.

For a split second, Jamie considered telling him to make his own damn tea. But that seemed unnecessarily ungenerous. “Fine,” he sighed. “Pick out a bag.”

“Wanna know what my favourite tea bag is?” Steve asked, trapping Jamie against the sink.

“No!” Jamie snapped, shoving him away. Sadly, he’d had to press his palm against those hard abs to do it. “I said no funny business!”

“What?” Steve said innocently. “I was just gonna say orange zinger.”

Jamie snorted. “I just bet you were.”

“Why does everything always gotta be sexual with you, Barnes?”

“Are you for real?” Jamie whipped around, leveling one of his most deadly professor’s glares on him.

“Whoa, I surrender!” Steve declared, raising his hands. “Whatever it is, I’m guilty as charged.”

Jamie sat back down at the table for a moment, thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not the best idea for you to be here.” It was clear Steve wanted more than to just hang out. And what did they really have in common, anyway? Who were they fooling?

“It’s probably not,” Steve admitted, dolefully swinging his tea bag back and forth.

“Steve, why did you come over here today?” Maybe if they were both honest it would make things easier.

“Cuz.” Steve shrugged, glancing up at Jamie through long long eyelashes. “I think you’re beautiful and I wish you’d let me kiss you.”

Jamie rested his cheek on his fist. “Is that all? Will you leave me alone if I let you kiss me? Quit this whole weird game of seduce the neighbor you’ve been playing?”

Steve shrugged again. “It’d be a start.” That’s what Jamie was afraid of.

“Fine.” He stood up from the table. “One kiss. But then you go home.”

Suddenly, Steve was all nerves. Jamie watched him clench and open his fists wide, wipe his palms on his shorts. Was he starting to sweat? It was like those words had turned him into an awkward teenage boy. In a cute way. “You mean it?” he licked his lips, worried his lower lip in his teeth, as if holding himself back.

Jamie shrugged. “Sure, if it’ll get you to lay off.” But he had to be honest with himself: he wanted this, had been looking forward to it since the first time he’d seen Steve. He just...hadn’t thought he was ever going to get it.

“Okay.” Steve rolled his shoulders, pacing, clearly trying to psych himself up.

“Wow, what are you, an actor? Is it really this big of a deal, just one kiss?”

“It is,” Steve said, still pacing. “With you.” He glanced back at him. “I really like you.”

Jamie sighed. “You hardly know me, Steve.” But logic didn’t seem to mean much to him.

“That doesn’t change my feelings,” he said, and suddenly strode right over to him, trapping Jamie against the sink. “Okay?” he asked, sliding one palm up Jamie’s shoulder to his jaw, cupping his cheek.

Jamie nodded, his heart beating faster. “Okay.”

Steve leaned in, and at first he felt the barest brush of velvet lips, gentle and hesitant. He was afraid Steve would chicken out, pull away. But then he was leaning in, pressing those soft lips hard against his, opening and closing his mouth, like he was tasting Jamie’s lips.

“I said...one kiss…” Jamie protested, but he didn’t try to pull away.

“Not done yet,” Steve said, sweeping his hands back over Jamie’s thighs and suddenly lifting him up to sit on the sink. Then he had to tip his head up to reach Jamie’s mouth, and he did, gripping his knees and sliding his tongue over Jamie’s lips, entreating them to open to him.

“You...this is--” Jamie tried to protest, but as soon as his mouth was open, Steve invaded. When their tongues met, it was like fireworks. He gasped, and Steve gripped his upper arms, kissing him harder. Jamie’s hands fluttered around Steve’s face, wanting to touch yet wanting not to touch. Suddenly Steve’s hand was down his pants and it didn’t matter. “Oh god!” His hips bucked, thrusting against Steve’s fingers as he gripped his dick, jerking him off with quick, needy strokes. He devoured Jamie’s mouth, panting hard, as though he were the one getting a hand job. “Fuuuuck.” Jamie’s toes curled, and suddenly nothing else mattered. “Fuck me,” he begged. “Fuck me, Steve.”

But instead of the predicted enthusiastic agreement followed by a hard dicking, Steve actually backed off, stopped kissing him, let go of Jamie’s cock. Jamie stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t...what?” His body was on fire. Why wasn’t Steve taking him up on it?

“I should go,” Steve told him, looking embarrassed. Awkward. “That was…” He looked down. “Good kiss.” And then it was as though he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

Jamie wanted to throw a shoe at his head. The nerve! After all the flirting he’d done, it seemed he was just a tease after all. He hopped down from the sink and jumped in the shower to finish up. Leave him hanging, would he? So much for Mr. Wrong. At least Monty would be happy. That was something.

Chapter Text

Thursday, when the doorbell rang, Jamie was perfectly prepared for it to be Steve, so that he could slam the door in his face. But it wasn’t Steve. It was worse than all that.

“Howdy, sugar. Heard you were housesitting for Katie; I figured you could use some company.”

“You figured wrong,” Jamie grunted, moving away from the door without shutting it. Tony would get in one way or another. It saved everyone trouble to just let him have his way early.

“Burgers and a movie?” he asked. “I stopped by that place you like.”

“You have no idea what place I like,” Jamie grunted, flopping back on the couch with his half-graded finals.

“That’s not true,” Tony said. “I stalk you until I get the information I want, and then I store it in my personal assistant. Don’t I, JARVIS?”

“Are you referring to the stalking, Sir, or the storage of information ‘in me’ as it were?” Jamie chuckled. Tony had programmed the AI to give some wicked burns, and he could never figure out why. They always seemed to be at his own expense.

“Oh, who needs you anyway?” Tony snapped, sitting down on the couch next to Jamie’s feet. “How you feeling, sweetheart? Been getting enough sleep?”

“Like you care.” Jamie did his best to ignore Tony. He was getting better at it.

“Poor lamb. That bad, huh? Here. Let Tony help.” He readjusted to pull Jamie’s feet into his lap, setting the food aside and chafing his hands together before he started one of his absolutely wicked foot massages.

“Tony,” Jamie warned, glancing back. “Don’t.”

“What, babe? I’m just helping you relax.” His right hand slid up to Jamie’s ankle, gripping and rubbing.

“Tony, stop.” Jamie forgot about his papers, he’d gripped the couch cushions, trying to get his foot back from Tony’s grip without kicking him. Unfortunately, Tony was a mechanic. He had unusually strong hands.

“You know you don’t want me to stop.” He rubbed his chin stubble against the arch of Jamie’s foot.

“I do want you to stop!” Jamie was starting to panic. “Tony, why aren’t you listening to me?”

“Because we both know you want this,” he whispered. “I want this. This is meant to be.”

His right hand was creeping up the back of Jamie’s thigh, giving him goosebumps, making him wish he’d worn long pants today. But how was he to know? He wished there were sirens that warned of Tony’s proximity so that you had time to prepare, but sadly he wasn’t the sort of natural disaster most people worried about. Just Jamie.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind, I let myself i--” Both of their heads turned at the third voice rapidly approaching.

“Steve?” Jamie called, hoping that he was going to come and give him an excuse to get out of his ex’s clutches.

“Steve?” Tony asked, both suspicious and intrigued.

“The front door was open,” Steve said, walking in on a scene that he had clearly not been expecting. He looked surprised, then a little hurt. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

“Steve!” Jamie welcomed him before he had a chance to go. “Come on in, buddy!” And he’d been so looking forward to giving Steve the cold shoulder after what he’d pulled the last time. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Steve drifted in, looking suspicious and confused by Jamie’s tone. “I, uh...made the batch a little too big for dinner, thought I’d bring you some in case you hadn’t had a chance to eat.” He was eyeing Tony the way one might eye a rattlesnake.

“Well well well!” Tony declared, the spotlight of his full attention turned on Steve. It gave Jamie the opportunity to pull his foot back, and race into the next room to wriggle into a pair of jeans. “Who might you be?” He leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the couch. “And where have you been all my life, gorgeous?”

Jamie introduced them from the next room. “Steve, this is Tony, Tony, this is literally the boy next door.”

“You don’t say.” Tony was eyeing Steve like a lion eyes a wounded gazelle. For his part, Steve didn’t look too thrilled about it.

“Tony,” Steve said the name slowly, warily, like he was trying to remember if he’d read it on a wanted poster.

“Don’t let the short intro fool you, buttercup. Barnes here’ll tell you I’m his ex, if you push, but the truth is, we’re soulmates.”

“Really.” Now Steve didn’t look pleased at all.

Tony shrugged, humble. “His husband refuses to admit it, but it’s inevitable. He always comes back to me eventually.” Jamie re-entered the room to an accusatory look from Steve.

“This is him?” he gestured at Tony, as if he were gesturing at chopped liver. Jamie knew what he meant. Steve had guessed he’d cheated on his husband before, and now he knew with whom.

He looked down at the floor, almost more ashamed than he would have been if Monty had caught them. “Please don’t go,” he said softly, knowing what Tony had made him do in the past, what he might make him do now if they were left alone together.

“Yes, sugar, stay.” Tony beckoned Steve over with a smarmy smirk. “I want to get to know you better. A LOT better.”

Steve looked down at the tupperware in his hands, considering. “Well, there’s enough here for both of you, I think. If you’re careful.” He looked back at Jamie. “Wanna turn on the game?”

“Ooo, sports,” Tony wriggled with glee. “I love the manly ones. Let’s all watch sports.” He winked, first at Jamie and then at Steve, who pointedly ignored it.

“I’ll just get this in the microwave.”

*

Two hours later, Jamie was feeling like he owed Steve an apology. Polls universally showed Tony to be one of the most annoying house guests in existence, and he’d been worse than usual today, trying to impress and flirt with Steve all afternoon. For his part, Steve didn’t seem interested, but that made it even worse, right? Jamie wasn’t sure why he’d stayed, but he had.

True to form, Tony was ready to make his exit as soon as they started clean-up. He wasn’t one for housework. “Catch you later, babe,” he told Jamie, spooning up behind him for a too-long kiss on the cheek.

“Nice to meet you, sport,” he told Steve, slapping him inappropriately on the backside. “Hope to see more of you.” He smirked. “Much more.” And then, thankfully, he was gone.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve swore, filling up the kitchen sink with warm, soapy water. “What the hell did you ever see in that guy?”

Jamie sighed. “His personality is strangely addictive.” And when Steve shot him a disbelieving look, he added, “It’s not like this when he’s not flirting. He really liked you, I guess.”

“Yeah. I caught that,” Steve ground out. “He’s so handsy with you. You let him get away with it?”

Jamie sighed, reaching for a dish towel. “With Tony, it’s easier to just give him what he wants than to argue. Arguing with that brain is like...hell.”

“He really smart or something?” Steve asked, handing him a wet, clean plate.

“The smartest,” Jamie said, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t seem so smart to me,” Steve said, “if he can’t tell when he’s not wanted.”

“Yeah.” Jamie dried the plate and set it aside. “He’s not that kind of smart.”

“Oh, you mean more like. Wyle E. Coyote, Super Genius smart.”

Jamie chuckled. “Kind of.”

“Well I think he’s a jerk,” Steve declared with some finality. “He needs to stay the hell away from here.”

Jamie smiled ironically. “I wish I could be as firm as you are.”

Steve turned and looked at him. “Hey. I’m right across the street if you ever need me.”

“Thanks, Steve.” It was a sweet sentiment. If ironic, coming from the guy who’d been trying to seduce him for weeks.

“I mean it,” he said, drying his hands on the apron. “You just give the word, and I’ll bounce his ass right out of here for you.”

Jamie laughed. “Careful, he might enjoy that.”

Steve took a step closer, his eyes intense. “I don’t care. I just don’t like the way he was treating you is all.”

“Steve.” Jamie smiled, embarrassed. When had he acquired this protective older brother? “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Steve insisted. And then, glancing to the side, he seemed to decide on saying more. “Listen, I wanna talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” Jamie said, moving away. He did not want to have this conversation right now. Not when he was feeling raw and vulnerable from dealing with his ex all day. “You had second thoughts, I get it.”

“No, that’s...not it.” Steve moved close behind him, resting his hands on Jamie’s hips. “The thing...the thing is.” Something was hard for him to say. “Thing is, I was hoping...well, I was hoping you’d be up for fucking me.” He paused. “Not the other way around.”

“Oh.” Jamie blinked, clearly not having considered this in all the scenarios he’d come up with to explain why Steve had left so suddenly the other day. “Oh, I...oh.” Steve rested his forehead against Jamie, as if he were trying to hide his face in his hair. “Well...sorry…” He had a hard time trying to find his voice. For some reason, he felt utterly unprepared. “I...I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, moving around to face him, smiling regretfully. “We hadn’t gotten that far yet--at least, I didn’t think we had.”

Now it was Jamie’s turn to be regretful. “You must think I’m the biggest slut.”

“I don’t,” Steve whispered, closing the circle of intimacy around them. “I figure you had a chance to talk to that husband of yours, and he gave you permission. That’s all.”

“How--how’d you know?” Jamie asked.

Steve smiled. “Because a guy like you doesn’t just beg the first guy who kisses him to fuck him without having gotten the green light from his death-do-us-part first.”

Jamie looked away, feeling more awkward than ever about having been caught with Tony. “Look, manipulative ex-boyfriends aside,” Steve said, the soul of forgiveness. “I know you’re not like that.”

“But how?” Jamie wanted to know. Sometimes he didn’t feel like he knew himself.

“I just know,” Steve said, and kissed him again, much more gently and chastely this time. “So,” he asked, swaying in place, his hands on Jamie’s hips. “How do we go from here? Do we...plan it, like make a date? Or do we just...let it flow organically?”

With Steve pressed against him like this, Jamie was feeling more than one thing flowing organically in response. “I don’t know,” he breathed, not trying to be coy, but probably coming off that way. If he hadn’t just escaped Tony... If he felt more in control, he’d be so into this right now.

“I get it,” Steve said gently. “Your ex just left. It’s not the time...only…” He grinned, looking down. “Is that a roll of quarters in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Fuck you for being so sexy and sweet,” Jamie breathed. “Asshole.” And Steve was kissing him again, tasting Jamie’s lips like the first time, only he was tasting back. “Oh god...Steve…” Why did he want this so badly? Maybe because Steve was the polar opposite of Tony. He was Mr. Consent, Mr. Considerate, Mr. Wait While You Decide What You Want.

“I think I know,” Steve said, with a smirk, and suddenly he was moving away from Jamie, sliding down his body, crouching on the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to--” Jamie started to say, but then Steve’s fingers were on his fly, his pants open, warm breath ghosting across his glory trail. Jamie let out a needy squeak. He was halfway there. Then Steve’s warm mouth was on him, and he was melting slowly into the floor like the sum total of his life had led him to this moment, where he slowly dissolved into nothing while the most amazing feeling filled him up from his toes to the tips of his hair. He gasped and came, not having any idea where the in between time had gone, and looked down, stunned, as Steve licked him clean.

“Wow,” he breathed. “You’re married to a woman?” Steve just grinned, wiping the corner of his mouth. “That’s just a damn waste.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Jamie’s waist, looking pleased. “Well it won’t go to waste any more,” he promised Jamie. “That is...if you’re still interested.”

“Still interested?” Jamie gasped. “Are you kidding me? I bought backstage passes.” He slipped his fingers through the loops of Steve’s jeans and jerked his hips close. “And you’d better deliver,” he breathed, sultry.

Steve probably meant to return a sexy chuckle, but instead, he giggled. A boyish, joyful sound that made Jamie laugh in response. “You’re the one who’s gonna deliver, Mr. Barnes,” he smiled. “Right?”

“Pretty sure I can do that,” he smirked back. “Though I can’t say I’ve ever topped a guy bigger than me before.”

“What difference does that make?” Steve asked with the attitude of someone who’d been put off using that excuse before.

“It doesn’t,” Jamie told him easily, then grinned. “It’s just...something new is all.” Why was he getting so excited about this?

“Alright, well.” Steve seemed loathe to let go of him. “I guess this is goodnight...for now.”

“Just for now,” Jamie promised.

“Sweet dreams,” Steve said, his eyes drifting shut in that way that told Jamie he was about to get kissed again. He intercepted it this time, kissing Steve first. His hands weren’t busy. He employed them to rubbing Steve’s chest, clawing down his abs, hungrily. Could this be real? Was he actually going to have this?

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, feeling Steve’s cock pressing hard and thick against his thigh.

He whimpered softly. “I’m...gonna have to take care of this.”

“Want some help with that?” Jamie smirked.

“You don’t have to,” Steve said, but his eyes were pleading.

Jamie couldn’t wait to get his hands on that fat cock now that he knew it was allowed...and welcome. He pushed Steve’s running shorts down, amused to find that was all he was wearing. He looked up at Steve, suspicious. “Did you really come over here just to give me dinner?”

Steve grinned, self-conscious. “Call me an optimist. I like to be prepared.”

“I bet you do,” Jamie growled, turning him around to face the counter so that he could nudge up against him from behind.

“Oh god, yes!” Steve breathed. “Oh, Bucky!” He slid his hand over Steve’s hip and gripped him at the base, slowly stroking.

“Tell me, Steve,” he purred. “Does sucking me off make you hard?”

“Oh god, so hard,” Steve gripped the counter.

“Is that the first time you thought about it?” he asked, grinning.

“N-no,” Steve admitted, blushing. “I thought about it...before...while I was jerking off.”

“Like this?” Bucky asked, sliding his fist up to the tip of Steve’s dick, rubbing the head against his palm.

“Oh god, yeah. Oh, Bucky. You’re so--nnn!”

For a moment, Bucky was worried he’d come. But it was a false alarm. “You think about me a lot when you jerk off?” he asked Steve.

Steve nodded vigorously. “Mmhmm. Guest shower...has a window.” It did, as a matter of fact. But Bucky wasn’t sure what Steve could have seen through it from across the street. Unless he’d really been playing stalker.

“Steve,” he breathed. “Were you looking through that window while I was in there?”

“Sometimes,” Steve admitted.

“Oh, you are a naughty boy,” he grinned, pulling back his hand and giving Steve’s ass a slap.

Steve didn’t reply in words, precisely, but from the almost comical sound he made, Bucky could only assume he’d enjoyed it. So he did it again. “Oh god, yeah. Bucky!” He continued to spank Steve while he stroked him, rubbed his knob and fondled his balls, and it wasn’t long before Steve came hard, all over Kate’s pristine stainless steel cabinets.

“Oh, wow,” Bucky panted. “That was fucking hot.” Steve turned around, pulling Bucky to him and kissing him like he was desperate for something that could only be found in Bucky’s mouth. He kissed back, but slowly brought Steve down. “Alright now,” Bucky told him gently. “You’d better get out of here before this gets really weird.” He smiled to show he was joking.

Steve chuckled, breathless, pulling his shorts back up. “Hot damn. If you’re this good with preliminaries, the main event might put me out for a few days.”

“Go on, Stevie,” Bucky shoved him gently toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Steve half-turned in his excitement. “We can do it tomorrow?”

Bucky snorted. “No promises. But I know we’ll see each other.”

“O-okay. I’ll go get the house ready.” And he was bustling off across the street like he had to prepare for a dinner party.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe and watched him go. “Wow,” he said to himself. “My husband is an amazing man.” He went straight to the computer to write an email while it was all fresh in his mind. Monty had wanted to know details, and Bucky could guess why. The look in his eye when Tony had invited him to watch, once, when he had threatened to take Bucky away in front of him. It hadn’t happened, but there had been something in Monty’s eye the split second before he’d punched Tony in the face…

Chapter Text

The next day came far too quickly. Bucky had missed Monty before bed, which meant he was going to have to wait all day to hit that sweet spot between dinner and bed that was literally the only time he was guaranteed to catch his husband for a video chat.

He found himself full of nervous energy. He walked around the house, cleaning and polishing things he’d never cleaned or polished--it was Kate’s house after all--but he needed to do something to distract from the fact Steve was probably across the street right now, strewing rose petals from the front door to the bed. When would he come over? Or was he expecting Bucky to make the first move? Well, that was never going to happen. So he kept cleaning.

Finally he went for a swim in the pool, trying to exercise his cares away by swimming laps. Just when he was starting to feel waterlogged, he looked up at a muscular pair of legs waiting at the edge of the pool. “Come here often?”

Bucky gripped the edge and braced his feet on the wall of the pool, squinting up at Steve. “Every once in a while. There’s this hot guy comes by now and then, and I always try to catch him.”

“Really?” Steve asked, squatting down. And Bucky wished he hadn’t, because he could see right up the leg of his shorts. There was nothing there but his bare-faced friend from yesterday. All Bucky could do was nod. “Mind if I join you while we wait around for this fabled hot guy?”

“No,” Bucky said, though he did glance around nervously. Were the fences high enough that the neighbors wouldn’t see? It looked like they’d have plenty of privacy. Which was good, because Steve was slipping out of his trunks. “What are you doing?” Bucky hissed. It had never been more clear to him that this wasn’t his pool. Kate would be so pissed if they fooled around in here.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Steve asked, slipping into the water and taking a lap around the pool.

“Swimming around naked...I guess.”

“You should try it.”

“Maybe another time,” Bucky hedged, not eager to do any such thing in his sister’s pool.

“That’s a shame,” Steve said, coming to rest at the edge like he was doing. “You know, I heard there was a mermaid who lived in this pool.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, grinning.

“I heard her tits were so beautiful, they could lure sailors to their deaths.”

“Really?”

Steve grinned. “Or was it her balls?”

“Definitely her balls,” Bucky smiled back. Steve moved over, cornered him between his arms, and leaned in to tease for a kiss. “Not here,” Bucky whispered softly, glancing at the fenced barriers again.

“Where?” Steve wanted to know.

“Your place?” Bucky asked. “I know you made lunch. Don’t lie.”

“Well, I brought it as a picnic basket, but okay.” He walked toward the ladder. “I get the picture.”

“It’s just…” Bucky had to think how to put it. “My niece swims in this pool.”

Steve nodded. “I get it. You need...more time.”

“No, that’s not it,” Bucky told him.  “I truly…” How could chlorine disintegrate sperm? It would be IN here, and just… “Please?”

Steve glanced back, surprised by Bucky’s tone. “Please...what?”

“Can we just eat lunch?”

“Naked?” Steve suggested, wiggling his thing.

Bucky closed his eyes. “Steve.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez. Where’d this prudish side come from?”

“I don’t...know, okay? Can we just…?” He pulled himself out of the pool, grabbing his towel. With Steve, he didn’t feel like his swim trunks were enough coverage.

Steve watched him cover up, regretfully. “Alright, alright.” He grabbed his towel and did the same. “Where do you wanna eat?”

“Just right here?” Bucky said, gesturing to the poolside table and deck chairs. To his credit, Steve went straight into maitre d mode, clearing things off and even laying out a picnic blanket for a table cloth. He had one of those fancy picnic baskets with pockets for wine glasses and real silverware.

“Damn,” Bucky said, “You don’t cut corners.”

“Have a seat,” Steve said, smiling invitingly. But Bucky hovered. He felt like he should be helping. “What’s the matter?” Steve asked. “You don’t like being spoiled?”

That was a good question. Bucky got spoiled a lot...by Monty. Maybe it was just weird to be spoiled by someone who wasn’t his husband. “I guess…” he began--but Steve cut him off, having walked around the table and shoved the chair in, knocking Bucky off his feet, so that he was forced to sit down. “Ouch.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve said. “You were about to protest. Don’t lie. I can tell by the way your forehead creases.”

Bucky reached up to smooth fingers over his forehead, feeling self-conscious. “Really?”

“Trust me,” Steve said. “I watch you a lot. AND think of ways to get around your protests.”

Bucky snorted. “Damn, you really are a stalker, Rogers.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if you’re amazing,” Steve said. “Besides, you already agreed. No take-backs.”

“I did not!” Bucky protested. Just because he’d gotten Monty’s permission to experiment didn’t mean he was actually going to go through with--

“There it is,” Steve said, pointing. “That little crease.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bucky said, snatching the champagne flute from Steve as soon as it was full. He watched Steve unpack the picnic basket. There was a fruit and cheese plate to go with the wine, of course, and then fried chicken and potato salad, a veggie tray complete with radish roses, and cold pork roast, already sliced, with a homemade mustard sauce. “You made this all yourself?” he asked.

“Sure,” Steve said, grinning. “I told you I was good in the kitchen.”

“What can I say? I guess I’ve only seen the...adult fun way you’re good in the kitchen.”

“We can do that, too,” Steve said, smirking deviously. “Just say the word.”

“I’m...kinda hungry,” Bucky said. “For food!” he added hastily. Steve finally sat down, but his smile said it all.

They ate and talked awkwardly about Bucky’s family, Steve’s sister, neighborhood property values, Bucky’s lesson plans. Finally he was full, and Bucky felt like he needed to find a new way to stall. “What are you so nervous about?” Steve asked, chuckling.

“Nothing!” Bucky said, defensive.

“Well you look nervous as hell,” Steve said, smiling charmingly. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“No,” Bucky said, apologetically. “It’s just…”

“I know,” Steve stopped him. “The whole cheating thing. I guess it wouldn’t make you feel better if I told you Peggy has a girlfriend in London.”

“No, not real--what?” Bucky nearly snorted his champagne.

“Yeah.” Steve offered a lopsided grin, leaning his chin on his fist. “I mean, I don’t mind. She hates my guts, so don’t think we ever, you know. Get creative. But she’s accepted Peggy chose me. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, I mean. She’s away for work 8 months out of the year, so. Who really wins?”

“Wait, London?” Was that a coincidence?

Steve grinned, proud. “Sure. That’s where she does most of her work, though she travels a lot, too.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if he should ask what Peggy did for a living or not. “But don’t you ever...go there?”

Steve’s face fell. “I used to, in the beginning. But the press freaked out.”

“The press?” What the hell kind of job did she have? “You didn’t cause a scene or something?”

“No. But it’s kind of scandalous for the director of MI6 to marry an American war hero. And...after that, Peggy decided it was better for me to stay at home...at least while she was in the UK.”

“What?” Bucky was stunned. “That sucks. That means you never get to see her!”

“Oh, I can see her,” Steve said. “It just has to be super cloak and dagger. That’s fun for roleplay sometimes, but it gets old after a while.”

“Damn.” Bucky set his glass down. “I’m sorry.”

“How about you?” Steve asked. “School the only thing keeping the two of you apart?”

“You know who my husband is?” Bucky asked. Because someone in Steve’s position might already know. Most Americans would have no idea.

“Sure. You’re married to the Lord of Dorking. It’s kind of a big deal, but British nobility has been covering up their romantic scandals for so long, it’s not as big a thing as it could be.”

“That’s right,” Bucky said. He almost felt like Steve had read a blotter about him. “Is that why you picked me?”

“No.” Steve gave him a sappy grin. “I didn’t know who you were when I first saw you.”

“But then you stalked me.”

“Then I researched you to see if it would be a good match,” Steve corrected. “Katie’s gay brother is one thing, but Katie’s gay brother secretly married to a member of parliament is a bigger deal.

“It’s not a secret,” Bucky said, defensive.

“No,” Steve agreed. “But when you hardly attend state dinners or go out in public together over there…”

“I...I don’t really like the attention,” Bucky admitted. It made him feel weird. He’d never imagined being part of a celebrity scandal, much less a foreign one.

“Me either,” Steve said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love showin’ off for my gal, but it just felt wrong to be takin’ attention away from Peggy.”

“Do you really think she wants the attention of the paparazzi?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s grin widened. “There’s nothing my gal likes better than stomping the unworthy under her spiked heel.”  

“Oh.” Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Wow.”

Steve shrugged, unapologetic. “That’s my girl.”

“So…” Bucky swirled some leftover potato salad around on his plate with his fork. “This...girlfriend of hers. She like....lives with her when she’s away?”

“I don’t think so,” Steve said, looking thoughtful. “But if they hang out, it doesn’t look so...you know. Not-patriotic.”

“You mean she goes with her to dinners and stuff.”

“Sometimes,” Steve said. “Mostly I think they do relaxing things together, like spa days and girl talk and date night at home.”

“Date night at home?” Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Well, she’s not gonna be obvious about it, out in public,” Steve explained.

“It’d be less of a scandal than I am, but it’d still be a scandal.”

“I guess,” Bucky said, peeling the crumbs off his fried chicken.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked. “I’m fine with it, honest.”

“It’s not my business,” Bucky said. “But I know how I’d feel if Monty had a lover over on the other side of the Atlantic.” He looked up at Steve suddenly. “Hey, this isn’t like. Trying to get her back or something, is it? Because I’m really not into revenge fucks.”

Steve smiled reassuringly, covering Bucky’s hand with his own. “I’m here because I like you. And because it’s okay with her. Not as revenge.”

Bucky still wasn’t sure.

“Come on,” Steve said, getting up. “It’s getting hot out here. Why don’t we head inside?”

“Inside?” Bucky asked, with an audible gulp.

“Yeah,” Steve grinned, starting to clean up. “We’ll head over to my place, do some dishes, fool around a little--like before.” His eyes were twinkling. Bucky wished he could be that pleased about the memory. It had felt fine at the time, but…

“Or not,” Steve said, seeing the look on his face. “We’ll put on the game, see how we feel.” That sounded a bit better.

“Okay,” Bucky said, helping Steve stack the dirty plates and silverware. Before they left, to prove a point, he went inside and put on clothes. Besides, it was weird to lounge on someone else’s couch in your swim trunks.

When they got to Steve’s, he excused himself to do the same, sensing Bucky’s discomfort. While he waited, Bucky unloaded the picnic basket, putting the leftovers in the fridge and starting on the dishes. “Hey,” Steve said, walking into the kitchen. “I didn’t really mean that.”

“I don’t mind,” Bucky told him, reaching for the sponge.

“No, I insist,” Steve said, coming to stand behind him and wrapping his arms around Bucky in a way that gently pinned him.

“Steve--” Bucky wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to protest, but he was.

“I get it,” Steve said softly. “We’ll just hang out like bros unless you change your mind.” He unwrapped his arms, but took Bucky by the hand, leading him into the entertainment room, which adjoined the kitchen. Bucky didn’t think bros held hands while they watched basketball, but he didn’t mind either. He kept it to himself.

Sitting apart on the couch, Steve spread until his knee bumped against Bucky’s. Bucky looked over to see if he was trying to get fresh, but he honestly seemed to just be getting comfortable, and again, Bucky didn’t mind. “Hey, you want a beer?” he asked, feeling like it would help.

“Sure, I’ll grab you one, too, huh?” He started to get up.

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky told him. “I’ll get ‘em.” He stood, needing to walk around a little, still nervous. Was he really going to do this? Did he really want to do this? Maybe he took a little too long. Standing behind the prep island, he looked up to see Steve staring at him. To his credit, he didn’t ask if Bucky was okay.

“There’s brownies in the oven,” he said. “I made those this morning, too, but it seemed weird for a picnic.” Chocolate sounded amazing right now. Bucky opened the oven door to grab the tray, bringing it back to the couch with the beers and a knife to cut them.

“Holy shit, these are good!” he declared, after one bite. “Are these out of a box or something?”

“What? My homemade no-pot pot brownies with marshmallows and chocolate chunks? That’s a family recipe, pal.”

Bucky laughed. “Are you trying to tell me your heart surgeon mother passed you this pot brownie recipe?”

“Sure as hell did,” Steve said proudly. “Dad used to have a hard time sleeping because of flashbacks to the war. Mom’s brownies were cheaper than the meds the VA was prescribing back then for PTSD, and they worked way better.”

“Wow.”

Steve shrugged. “Sorry if that was TMI.”

“No,” Bucky said. “I think it’s great. I mean, I feel like real doctors are open-minded about alternative medicine.”

Steve grinned. “She was a real doctor, my ma. That’s for sure.”

And now Bucky suddenly felt like he’d accidentally stumbled into a wake. “Sorry, Steve.”

“Aw, don’t be,” Steve said. “I like to think of her, you know. Even though it’s sad, it’s like she’s here with me when I remember.” All the same, his eyes were a little glassy.

Bucky couldn’t say the same for his own parents. He didn’t miss either of them, though he’d never say an unkind word about his mother now that she was gone. His father on the other hand…

They watched the game in silence, half awkward, half comfortable. During one of many commercial breaks, Steve threw his leg over Bucky’s, playful. “Uh, excuse you,” Bucky said, giving Steve’s knee a friendly shove off. In response, Steve just moved closer, sliding up against him. At least he didn’t do the cheesy, pretending to yawn and then putting an arm around him thing. Still, Bucky chuckled.

“What?” Steve asked, a little defensive.

“You’re cute. That’s all.”

“I am?” Steve said, turning to Bucky and smiling excitedly.

“I mean, kind of,” Bucky said, starting to get butterflies again. “Maybe. You know, for a jock.”

“Hey, don’t you label me, professor. I’m lots of things besides good at sports.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, backing off. “I’m sure you are. But you have to admit, your physique is…” Bucky wasn’t sure how to put it without it sounding like a pickup line. 

“Totally excellent?” Steve asked, doing his best surfer impression.

“It’s righteous, man!” Bucky joked back. And they laughed. It was nice to have someone to dork around with. That was one of the things Bucky missed about Tony. Monty’s sense of humor was...more sedate.

Steve leaned close, murmuring conspiratorially, “So, you want free tickets to the gun show?”

Bucky laughed, not having expected that. “Wait, is this a private show, or…?” Steve winked at him, flexing. “Not bad, Rogers.”

“I got more,” Steve whispered. “If you’re interested.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. “I might be.” Then again, he might not be. There was a chasm between fantasy and reality, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to make the leap.

“Well, when you’re ready, you just give the word, huh?” Steve leaned in and dropped a warm kiss on Bucky’s neck, cradling the other side of his face. His body reacted immediately, flaring to life.

“I--um--” Bucky fell backwards on the couch, and Steve seemed to take this as a cue.

“Oh god, babe, this is so hot.” His weight bearing down on Bucky was nothing to laugh at.

“Um--” To his credit, Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s gently, giving him every opportunity to say no or pull away. But his groin was on fire.

When Bucky didn’t protest, Steve rose to his feet, taking Bucky’s hand and gently tugging him up, too.

Steve drew him back toward the bedroom, literally walking backwards. He let go of Bucky’s hand--perhaps sensing it was a little bit too much--and gently tugged Bucky along by the hem of his shirt.

“Steve,” Bucky was more than nervous, the butterflies in his stomach crashing against his innards with razor-sharp wings. “I don’t--”

But Steve just raised a finger to his lips. “Let go, Buck. Try not to think. Not talking helps.”

But it was easier said than done. “But Steve--” Now Steve’s finger was against Bucky’s lips, and there was something so sensual about that. Maybe it was the way his finger gently caressed the sensitive skin before dipping down to Bucky’s neck, tracing a line over his adam’s apple.

They were at the bed now. Showtime. But suddenly all Bucky wanted to do was back out of the room. “Steve--” He started to pull away, but Steve had already let go of his shirt.

“Come on,” Steve said, unbuttoning his own shirt with surprising swiftness. “Don’t you wanna stay for the show?” Bucky stared at the beautifully sculpted chest that was revealed as Steve pulled it open slowly, teasing. Bucky licked his lips. “There it is,” Steve grinned, and Bucky felt caught, like a deer in the headlights.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve leaned close to growl softly in his ear. “You want this. I want you. So why leave?”

It was the strangest of game show questions. “B-because,” Bucky stuttered, swallowing. “Because this is wrong?” He started to back away. “Because--”

Steve grabbed his hand and pulled it close, placing it on his groin. Bucky could feel all sorts of things going on there, but none of them were boring or familiar. “Come on,” the incubus who called himself Steve beckoned.

“You’re evil,” Bucky realized, feeling afraid for the first time.

“Notice you still got your hand on my dick,” Steve observed with a grin.

So he did. Bucky removed it slowly. He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Steve started to inch his waistband down. Bucky shivered as his glory trail was revealed. “No!” He said it aloud, turning his face away. Stop staring, moron, he told himself. What was it about this guy that fascinated him so much?

“Hey,” Steve said softly, and when Bucky looked back, his blue eyes were sincere. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want.”

“I don’t want this,” Bucky blurted out, surprising himself because he knew full well that he did want this. Badly.

“Look,” Steve told him gently. “I’m just gonna take my pants off. If you see my ass and still wanna leave, hey. I gave it my best.”

His ass? Bucky had already done more to that ass than he should have. But he hadn’t really stopped to look at the time. Their tryst in the kitchen had been a very spur of the moment, bare the least possible to perform a sex act situation. And in the pool earlier today, Bucky had been too paranoid of the neighbors seeing to really get a good luck.

Now Steve turned around and bent forward over the bed, leaning on one hand. With the other, he reached back to push down his waistband. He was wearing briefs, and Bucky understood why. The way the sheer fabric clung to the firm, plump curves of his ass...Bucky could feel his cock stiffen at just the sight of it. “Wow!” he gasped.

“I know, right?” Steve grinned, posing just a little.

“How in fuck can you do chicks with an ass like that?” Bucky was still gaping.

Steve gave him an unhappy look. “You know, women can appreciate a great ass, too.”

“Fuck that.” Bucky moved forward, resting his hands on either side of the work of art that was Steve’s ass. “No woman could appreciate this ass like a man can.”

“You know, that’s kind of sexi---” Steve’s voice cut off when Bucky buried his face in the object in question. “Ho--!”

Bucky was glad to know there was at least one thing that would a) shut Steve up and b) throw him off his game a little. Mostly he was just lovin’ that ass. Steve was making the most amusing noises. Bucky slid one hand up his thigh to grip his johnson. God, it was thick. Maybe it was better he liked to bottom, because Bucky didn’t know how he could go home and explain to his husband why his ass-cheeks were in different hemispheres all of a sudden.

He started moaning into his work, vibrating the sound into the sweet cherry he was tonguing.

“Ho! Hooooo--!”

Bucky wanted to laugh at the way Steve seemed utterly unprepared to have his ass eaten. Did women not do this for their men? What a sad relationship that would be. Bucky came up for air to allow Steve the opportunity to compose himself...if he wanted to.

He leaned face-down on the bed, panting into the blankets for a second. “Shit, man,” he said, voice muffled in the bedding. “I had a lotta people react to my ass before, but never anything quite like that.”

Bucky slapped his ass, gripping it hard. “A lot of people aren’t me.”

The way Steve looked at him, then. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was going to swoon or throw himself at Bucky. “Oh God, I knew you were the one.” He did throw himself at Bucky, then, but just in a hug.

“The one?” Bucky asked, feeling like he should be slowly backing out of the room again.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispered, teasing Bucky’s lips. His hands slid down Bucky’s ribs to his hips, teasing his waistband. He tugged gently at the belt loops of Bucky’s jeans. “Fuck me!” Steve fell backwards onto the bed, tugging Bucky along with him.

“Well jee--” Bucky’s exclamation was muffled by Steve’s mouth. He was working Bucky’s lips like they were a sexual organ. Bucky pinned him by the shoulders and showed him how it was done, pushing his tongue into Steve’s mouth and teasing his tongue until it came out to play. Steve moaned against him, and Bucky reached down to grip his cock. The moan turned almost comical.

“Are you just loud, or do you really never get treated like this?” Bucky asked, coming up for air.

Steve grinned, his embarrassment showing in the pink of his ears. “I just like what you’re doin’. There’s nothing wrong with showing a little appreciation, is there?” Bucky was going to say that there was if it made you sound like a cartoon character, but Steve was literally pulling his shirt over his head, which he was unprepared for.

“Hey, hey!” Bucky protested. “That’s silk. You can’t just rip it off.”

“Sure I could,” Steve said, nibbling his lower lip. “But I thought I’d be nice and leave it in one piece.”

“Well thanks for that,” Bucky said, sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” Steve answered seriously.

“No, Steve, that’s--”

Steve was staring at his chest like he’d just revealed the wonders of ancient Egypt. “I love your nipples. They’re so dark.”

“What the--” But Bucky’s indignation was cut short by Steve’s teeth. On his right nipple. “Hey, what the--?!” Bucky slapped Steve’s face away, protectively covering the injured body part with his hand. “What in the shit is that!? You like ‘em so much, you’re gonna bite ‘em off and keep them in a jar?”

Steve looked sheepish. “What...Peggy always likes it when--”

“I’m not Peggy!” And now Bucky was pissed. But he couldn’t say why. Peggy was Steve’s wife. He was allowed to talk about her if he wanted to.

“I know, baby, I know,” Steve said, reaching out for Bucky, soothing.

“I’m not your baby,” Bucky snapped. “This was supposed to be a one-time thing, and it was a mistake.” He slid off the bed and began casting around for his shirt.

“No!” Steve sounded like he was in a total panic. He followed Bucky, wrapping arms around him from behind. “No, please! I’m sorry. I’m so stupid--I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Bucky stopped. Why did this feel like a lovers’ quarrel? They barely knew one another. He turned to glare at Steve over his shoulder. “Why do you care so much? It’s just sex.”

Steve just looked at him with these puppy-dog eyes. “Because…” He didn’t seem to have an answer.

Bucky glanced down. The mood seemed to have passed for both of them. He sighed. “Look. Pull your pants up. Let’s just go watch the game. I’ll grab a couple beers out of the fridge.”

“O-okay,” Steve said, still looking at Bucky like he was afraid Bucky was going to leave.

“We’ll hang out on the couch...see if anything happens.”

“Are you hungry?” Steve asked, winching up his jeans. “I can make us somethin’.”

Bucky just stared. “She has you trained to cook for her, doesn’t she?”

“No,” Steve said, looking hurt. “I like to cook, that’s all.”

Bucky shook his head. “I bet you’re a fucking gourmet, too.”

“Well I did go to culinary school,” Steve began.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Bucky moved back out to their living room straight out of Better Homes and Gardens.

“What?” Steve followed behind him, still doing that lost puppy thing.

“Do what you want,” Bucky told him, stopping by the polished metal fridge to steal two beers. If his woman really had him trained to serve, it probably made him happy to. Bucky was as disgusted by it as he had been when Becky had dated that guy in college who believed women should all be barefoot and pregnant and in the kitchen.

Steve surprised him by coming up behind Bucky and spooning him standing up, gently pushing Bucky against the kitchen counter. “‘Kay,” he whispered in Bucky’s ear.

Wait, was this happening? Bucky put the beers down on the counter with a clinking jangle of glass. “I thought you said--” Bucky’s eyes closed when Steve’s lips started kissing his neck, up and down. His hands roved over Bucky’s chest and abs, teasing his nipples without being harsh this time. “Fffffffuck!”

“God, you feel good,” Steve murmured in his ear, gently biting Bucky’s earlobe. “Your husband has this to come home to and he stays away for weeks?”

“That’s not fair.” Bucky’s eyes opened; he had to defend Monty. “He has important work to do; besides, your Peggy is home even less.”

He felt Steve shrug behind him. “Peggy and me have a deal. It works out.”

Bucky turned around in Steve’s embrace, laying his hands on that sculpted chest, his fingers gently scratching a trail in Steve’s manscaping. “But still,” he said. “She’s missing out on all this.” He brushed his palms over Steve’s nipples, almost shyly. Steve shivered against him, his erection twitching against Bucky’s thigh.

Steve’s grin was sinful as hell. “That just leaves more time for you.” He gripped Bucky by the waist and lifted him up onto the counter.

“Waaaaaaait a minute,” Bucky said, not sure if he liked sitting on their marble countertop. “This is a one-time thing, and it hasn’t even happened yet.” He felt obliged to add, “It might not even.”

“Sure,” Steve said, distracted, staring at Bucky’s crotch. Bucky had no clue why. He wasn’t fully turned on again yet. But somehow the heat of Steve’s gaze was making things happen down there.

“Can I help you?” Bucky asked, trying to get Steve to look at him again.

Steve bit his lip. “I think so.” He unfastened Bucky’s fly, tugging his waistband down.

“Hey,” Bucky protested. “Beers, remember?”

“You can drink a beer if you want,” Steve told him. “I just remembered how much I love sucking dick.”

Bucky felt his face grow hot at Steve’s vulgarity. “How can you--you forgot?” How did one forget they loved giving blowjobs?

“I try not to think about it,” Steve said, running a hand up Bucky’s bare inner thigh. “When I can’t have it.”

“But I thought you had a dea--eal,” Bucky stuttered when Steve pulled him to the edge of the counter and started teabagging him. Jesus this marble was cold, almost in a kinky way. Bucky whimpered and watched his soldier come to attention. Steve nuzzled it, still playing with Bucky’s sack. He rubbed his lips against it, teased it in his hand, licked it like a lollipop. Bucky was about to scream at him to just suck it already when Steve deep-throated him. “HOly shit!” Bucky had not been expecting that. Not right off the bat, for sure.

Steve’s eyes opened and he watched Bucky as he began to bob on his shaft. Bucky couldn’t look away. How had it gotten so intense? He gripped Steve by the hair and pulled him down, groaning at the things Steve’s tongue was doing while his mouth sucked. “Oh, shit!” Bucky gasped suddenly, realizing he was much closer than anticipated. Steve was good at this. “Look out, I’m gonna--”

But Steve jerked him forward, pushing Bucky back just enough to reach his ass and push a finger up in him. “Steve!” Bucky shouted, part surprise, part indignation, part pleasure. He groaned and leaned back on the counter. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck!” Bucky gasped, liking the way Steve’s finger was moving while he swallowed him. He figured he’d given ample warning, so when Bucky came, he just gripped Steve’s hair hard, then let go. He could spit if he wanted to.

He didn’t. In fact, he made little happy noises as he swallowed Bucky’s load, stopping only to lick his cock clean at the end. Bucky just stared down at him, somewhat dazed.

“Was that good for you?” Steve grinned, already knowing the answer as he tugged Bucky up into his arms again. He carried him to the couch, Bucky’s legs wrapped around his hips, and laid him down.

“You know,” Steve said, lying down on top of him and settling Bucky’s legs around his waist. “I don’t mind fucking you if you’re shy.”

“Fffffffft.” Bucky made a sound of protest. “You get that monster cock away from my ass, mister.” Steve’s grin widened.

“Aww, I bet you could take it.”

Bucky slapped him, half-heartedly. “What the fuck are you saying? I’m some kind of ass-slut who can just take any big dick that shows up?”

“What are you saying?” Steve smirked. “Your husband’s dick isn’t as big as mine?”

“Steve. MY dick isn’t as big as yours.”

“No, but it tastes really good,” Steve said, licking his lips.

“A cock’s a cock, Steve,” Bucky said, but all the same, he was flattered. Because it wasn’t exactly true.

“Nuh-uh,” Steve said, tracing his tongue over Bucky’s collar bone. “You taste good,” he insisted.

“Fine,” Bucky said. “You have a big cock and I taste good. That about cover it?”

Steve chuckled. “Why are you trying so hard to make this just about sex?”

“Because it is,” Bucky insisted. “This is just sex. That was our deal. Nothing more.” It wasn’t about the way Steve’s body fit up against his or those blue eyes for days or the way he held Bucky.

“Well, if it’s just sex,” Steve said, stealing a quick kiss. “I guess you better decide if you can take me or not.”

This guy had some nerve. “It’s not about IF I can take you,” Bucky began. “It’s about if you want our one time together to be you working my ass like you work your girlfriend.”

“Oh, she doesn’t let me put it in there too much,” Steve said, giving way more information than Bucky ever wanted. “Anyway, it’s better with a guy because the anatomy’s different.”

“You don’t say,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

Steve winced a little. “It’s cause I’m talkin about Peggy again, right?”

“Would you stop saying her name? Jesus.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Do you want me to scream Monty’s name while we’re fucking?”

Steve thought about this. “No. That’d be upsetting.”

“Okay, then!”

“I get it.”

“Good!”

“I’ll stop.”

“Thank you!”

“Can I put it in now?” That took Bucky by surprise. His stomach flip-flopped.

“I thought that’s not what you wanted.”

“Honestly,” Steve said, rubbing his cheek against Bucky’s. “Lying here against you is driving me crazy. Somebody better fuck somebody, or I’m just gonna start humping you.”

“We could do that,” Bucky said. “Like horny college kids.”

“Oh-ho!” Steve smiled. How could his smile light up the whole room? “So you’re into role play, huh?” He leapt up and started pacing. “Should I be the straight jock who seems disinterested at first, or the anthro major who wants to study human sexuality?” He stopped and looked down at Bucky. “Or the math wiz who has to be distracted from his homework but then is so eager to please?”

It was embarrassing just listening to him think about this. He and Monty didn’t do any kind of role-playing. Their roles had been pre-determined and were already kind of a turn-on for both of them. “Buck?” Steve was looking down at him, expectantly.

“I...have no idea, Steve. I honestly…”

“I know!” Steve grinned and knelt down. “I’m the kid who’s failing your history class, so he asks to do extra credit.” Steve was just beaming.

Bucky groaned. “God, I hate that trope.”

“But say I did take one of your classes,” Steve prompted. “What would you tell me if I came to your office?” He was resting his hands on Bucky’s knees, reminding Bucky of that blowjob which...had been quite enthusiastic.

Bucky sighed. “I’d recommend you go to the tutoring lab.”

“But I don’t have time, professor,” Steve gave Bucky doe-eyes. “The midterm’s tomorrow. Can’t you help me?”

Bucky folded his arms over his chest. “Go home and study,” Bucky said. “Study hard, and maybe some of it will sink in overnight. But don’t forget to sleep.”

“Man, you’re a rough sell,” Steve complained, standing up and turning his back to Bucky. “Oops!” Steve bent over to pick up an imaginary pencil, shoving that beautiful ass into Bucky’s face again. Bucky bit it and gave him a sharp crack on the ass for his trouble.

“Oh,” Steve said, pausing. “That was kinda nice.” He turned and looked at Bucky over his shoulder. “Maybe I should be the naughty pupil.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed. “Corporal punishment isn’t appropriate in this day and age. Besides, my students are all adults.”

“Oh, yeah!” Steve said, climbing into Bucky’s lap. “Let’s make this adult.” It was hard to think with Steve’s ass in his lap. Steve seemed to think the same thing at the same time, eyes widening before he smiled devilishly. “Oo. Maybe I’ll ride you for a better grade.”

“Steve--”

“Shhhh.” Steve covered Bucky’s lips with one finger. “Can you do me dry?” Steve asked, reaching down to tease Bucky’s cock. “I want to feel every inch of you as you slide it up in there.”

Bucky was so flustered by this dirty talk, he couldn’t find words anymore.

“Please, teacher,” Steve frowned and exhibited some of the worst porn acting Bucky had ever witnessed. “I got this itch.”

“In your ass,” Bucky dead-panned, but he was starting to react to Steve’s stroking.

“Yeah.” Steve bit his lip. “It’s all the way up in there. Can you help me?”

Bucky snorted. “That’s so nasty.”

Steve climbed out of his lap and leaned over the arm of the couch, presenting his beautiful ass. “Please help me. I don’t care about my grade…”

Bucky thought about it. His ass was amazing. Maybe it was worth the distasteful trope and the bad porn acting. It was just one time, anyway. He could fuck that thing once and never talk about it again. “You sure about this?” Bucky asked once more, kneeling up on the couch behind Steve.

“Yes!” Steve panted, impatient. “Please!” He took his own junk in hand, slowly stroking as he looked back to see what Bucky was going to do.

“This…” Bucky bit his lip. That ass… But, no. It was way too corny. Forget about Steve, Bucky wouldn’t be able to look HIMSELF in the eyes if he did this. “No.” Then why was he reaching out for a handful of that sweet ass? “No way,” Bucky repeated. But was he telling himself or Steve? “Turn on the TV.” And with no small amount of willpower, Bucky got up and walked away. To grab the beers in the kitchen.

For safety, he stayed there, leaning against the island and opening one of the beers. “You don’t want it?” Steve asked, looking forlorn. He sure did know how to make puppy eyes. How had Bucky gotten himself into this?

He looked down at the polished hardwood floor before answering. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Suddenly Steve was so much closer, leaning down to catch his gaze and resting one hand on Bucky’s wrist holding the beer.

“I dunno, Steve,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “It’s just...the moment’s gone, that’s all. Let’s just watch the game.”

They did, and it was weird, because they ended up snuggled together on the couch. There was a bit of chest fondling and ass-stroking, but that was it. Not even a kiss. When Bucky took his leave, stepping off Steve’s front doorstep, the big man pulled him back at the last minute, drawing Bucky into a bearhug of sorts. “Remember,” he whispered. “I love to suck dick, so if you ever need it…”

Bucky pushed himself away, blushing. “Jeez, you’re a perv,” he mumbled, but it was tempting. He just gave Steve a weak wave as he walked back over to his sister’s place. Safer there.

Chapter Text

In fact, Bucky was back the next week, pressed up against the wall of Steve’s shower. “Ohhh, God!” Watching the water rain down on Steve’s rippling back while his head bobbed on Bucky’s cock was so sensual somehow. Bucky reached down to gently rub Steve’s shoulders.

He made a pleased “Hmmm” sound, which vibrated down to Bucky’s balls.

“Oh, Jesus!”

“You a religious man?” Steve stopped long enough to ask. “Cuz you sure swear to a monotheistic god a lot.”

“What are you,” Bucky asked him, “a smart-ass philosophy student?”

“Nah, that was just my minor,” Steve said, giving Bucky’s swollen head a teasing lick.

“Bitch, you better stop playing around,” Bucky warned, too close to stop and have a casual conversation at this point. Steve gripped his shaft at the base and dutifully painted his tip with his tongue, rubbing it against his cheek and lips. “You’re fucking dirty!” Bucky declared, watching Steve practically wash his face with the damn thing.

“Nuh-uh,” Steve said. “I just like it. Your cock tastes good.”

“You like to rub things that taste good on your face, do you?” Bucky asked, because a response like that really deserved a come-back.

“Maybe,” Steve said, kneeling up so that he could rub Bucky’s cock against his pecs. Oh shit, that was hot somehow. What the fuck? “Maybe I wanna rub it somewhere else.” He stood up, stroking Bucky, and drawing lines across his body with the moist head of Bucky’s desire. Then suddenly he was turning around.

“Whoa, there.” Steve just grinned. “Wait a minute, Steve, I did not agree to this when I came over today.”

“You came here horny,” Steve said. “I’m taking care of you.”

“Yeah, but I never--” Steve started to draw it across his ass, pushing it out for better effect.

“My god, you suck,” Bucky gasped.

“You know you want it, Bucky.”

“Damnit, Steve, I’m not this improvisational. I have to plan for shit like this!”

“Just let go,” Steve purred. “Let go and let instinct take over.”

Bucky grunted, pushing himself back against the wall as Steve rubbed his cock across the tight bud. “Jesus.” He was clenching his jaw so hard, he thought his teeth might crack.

“Just put it in,” Steve teased. “It’s easy. I want it, you want it.”

“Not here,” Bucky said, panting. His first time--and since when were there going to be more times?--with Steve was going to be messy, and he could almost guarantee at least one of them would slip and fall if it was here.

“All right.” Suddenly the shower was off, and Steve was running toward the bedroom. Bucky had no idea how he’d gotten himself into this. He leaned out of the shower, reaching for a towel.

“Jesus.” I should really just go home , Bucky thought. But he didn’t. He walked into the dark bedroom, rubbing his hair dry, and froze when he found Steve on the bed, fingering his own ass. His other hand held a tube of lube. “I thought you wanted it dry,” Bucky said, unable to think of anything else to say in the face of such pornographic fuckery. He was actually grateful for the lube.

“Well, you seemed kind of gun-shy when I brought it up before,” Steve said, looking down at Bucky upside-down from where he knelt on the bed.

“Can you get your finger out of your ass, please?” Bucky asked, walking up to the edge of the bed and trying to gather his scattered thoughts. Steve dutifully obeyed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to be ready.”

“And are you?” Bucky gave him a dubious look.

“Fuck, yes!” Steve said, pushing his ass back eagerly.

“Jesus,” Bucky said.

“There you go again.”

“Shut up.” Bucky gave him a medium-hard slap on the ass.

Steve bit his lip, rocking forward. “Oh, daddy. Yeah. That’s good!”

Bucky had the briefest flashback to his leather phase. Nope. Not going there. But there was nothing wrong with a little spanking. He slapped Steve’s other cheek, and watched his cock twitch. “You like that?” Bucky asked, but it was a rhetorical question. They’d proven already that he did.

“Fuck. Yeah!” Steve gripped his thick member and started to slowly stroke it. So Bucky slapped him again, and moved up to push a finger inside him. The noises Steve made were embarrassing. But Bucky had come to learn that meant he was enjoying himself.

He leaned forward and bit Steve’s ass gently, twisting a second finger up inside him. He was pretty tight, especially for a guy who bragged about sucking dick and getting fucked so much. The noises Steve made sounded a little pained, so Bucky took it slow, easing him open gradually.

“You’re pretty tight,” Bucky observed. “How many times did you say you’d done this before?” There was a long pause. “You have done this before, right?”

“Well,” Steve said. “Most guys always want me to top if we go that far.”

“Most guys is how many?” Bucky asked, removing the second finger. He was starting to suspect foul play.

“Well…” Steve seemed to be counting in his head. “Five or six?”

“Five or six!?” Bucky withdrew all together. “Steve, how many of those guys actually fucked you?”

“I mean, with their mouth--”

“Steve.” Bucky moved up to where he could see Steve’s expression. “How many of them put their dicks in you?”

Steve looked away. “Well, one tried…”

“Tried?”

“I mean...my best friend...he’s really straight.”

Bucky blinked. “You’ve fucked your best friend?”

“Well, no,” Steve admitted. “I mean, he says I can suck his dick any day, but. Actual fucking is too gay for him.”

“Steve.” Bucky was kind of concerned now. “Why are you seducing your friends? Don’t you ever go to clubs, or…?” Any guy he wanted would take Steve home. Any guy. Though Bucky knew from experience most of the cruisers wanted to bottom.

Steve was staring at the blanket. “I gotta make sure to be safe...Peggy--”

“Say no more,” Bucky said. Please. “But you don’t know if I’m safe,” he pointed out. “And I don’t know your best friend, but you know straight guys never use condoms unless they’re vets, right?”   

“No,” Steve said. “Sam is clean. I know it.” Bucky shrugged. It was his funeral if he was wrong. “And you…”

“What about me?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ve been watching you for longer than you probably think.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to take that. “That doesn’t mean I’m--”

“Whenever you cheated with Tony, it must’ve been a long time ago. The only times you leave your house are to work or come here...to your sister’s I mean.”

“Are you some kind of stalker or something?” Bucky was a little pissed, but not as scared as he probably should have been.

Steve looked ashamed. “I got a lot of time on my hands.”

“And you need a lover who’s safe.” Steve nodded. Bucky sighed. “Steve, I don’t know about this.”

Steve stretched out on his side, looking at Bucky with the saddest eyes.

“I mean, what you really want is a boyfriend. Like some weird wife-approved boyfriend. I can’t-- I don’t even know you. This is some crazy shit, and we haven’t even done anything yet.”

Steve reached out and took Bucky’s hand. “Would it help if we went on some dates first?”

Mentally and emotionally, Bucky recoiled from the idea. That he would date anyone now...he couldn’t stand the thought. But Steve...why was he so drawn to this muscled meathead? Surely it was just physical, so why was he tempted? “I--I don’t know, Steve,” he admitted. “Dating is pretty fucking serious. I--I’d have to discuss it with Monty.” He considered how he would feel if Monty asked him to date another guy. Bucky would feel like a divorce was imminent. But Monty was so conciliatory. He might be okay with it. But was Bucky?

At some point, Steve had crawled closer on the bed, because now he lay his head in Bucky’s lap. He looked up at Bucky with those baby blues. “If we did go on a date, what would you want to do?”

Bucky sighed. Monty had never asked him that, back when they’d been dating. He’d always had these lofty ideas about dinner in Paris or flying to Egypt to watch the sun rise over the pyramids. “Shit, I don’t know,” Bucky said. “Maybe just a walk through the park or something? Do you rollerblade?”

“Do I rollerblade?” Steve grinned. And Bucky immediately regretted asking.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind something active?”

Steve was nodding. “Okay.”

“But, Steve, I’m serious. It has to be okay with Monty.”

Steve beamed up at him. “Does that mean it’s already okay with you?”

Bucky thought about it. He didn’t want to admit anything. But if it was all right with Monty, he did sort of want to get to know Steve better. Sex with a tool was difficult for him. Maybe if he knew him…

When Bucky didn’t respond, Steve drew his own conclusion, smiling, elated. “Oh man, Buck, we’re gonna have so much fun!” Steve pulled him down next to him on the bed, and just started kissing Bucky. It was a little disturbing, because casual sex was one thing, but being kissed with actual affection felt like far more cheating than sex would have been.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve urged between kisses. “Let’s make out like teenagers. We don’t have to fuck today.”

“But you’re all lubed up,” Bucky pointed out.

“Whatever,” Steve said, his lips descending Bucky’s neck. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Bucky insisted, and his hard dick wasn’t going to get the same kind of relief from frotting as it would deep sea diving.

“Okay,” Steve leaned back, grinning. “We can do whatever you want.” He rolled over, wiggled his ass in the air teasingly. Bucky gave it another smack. “Oh god.”

“Now who’s swearing to monotheistic gods?”

“Just...come on,” Steve panted, glancing back at him, pleading. Bucky thought about how Steve had teased him in the shower, how tight his ass had been around his fingers just now, and he found himself moving up behind Steve, pulling his ass up, pushing his cock into position. “Ohh, this is really happening!” Steve whined, thighs trembling.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Bucky told him, soothing, swiping his thumbs across Steve’s plush cheeks. “We’re gonna do this slow. And easy.” But he was already easing in, too eager. “And if it hurts or you don’t like it...at any point…” he gasped. Sighed, feeling the head of his cock nudge past the second ring of muscle. “You tell me.”

Steve was just whimpering, crouched forward, his hand gripping his dick. “You okay?” Bucky asked, because Steve wasn’t giving him much information.

“More,” Steve whispered. “Go deeper.” So Bucky did, gripping his cheeks and pushing in slowly, trying to breathe. Steve was so tight, this was almost painful.

“God.” He stopped, tried to catch his breath. “Jesus.”

“P-please,” Steve begged, pushing back on him, taking Bucky in a little deeper. “Please, I wanna feel you balls-deep. Want you to fuck me right. Come on, Buck. Pop my cherry good.”

Bucky thrust in hard, then, worried when Steve cried out. “God, more!” he said. “Harder! Give me that dick.” So Bucky did. He got up on his knees, pulling Steve’s ass along with him. And, gripping his hips, he started to piston in and out, slamming his dick in, all the way each time. The noises Steve made. He was clearly having a good time.

“How’s that feel, Stevie?” he asked, keeping up the steady pace. He groaned at the feel of his hip bones pressing against those soft cheeks.

But all Steve could do was groan with pleasure. “More. Harder,” he begged. Bucky took a deep breath and started to pound his ass, driving it home with each thrust. Steve lost it quickly after that, gasping and shouting with pleasure. Bucky jerked him off as an afterthought, but he was already most of the way there. When Steve came, he pushed his ass back onto Bucky, hands fisting in the sheets. “Oh god, that’s good. Oh god, I never came like this before…” He glanced back at Bucky over his shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not about to stop,” Bucky grunted, still grinding against him. “I’m gonna fuck you till I come.”

“Ohh yeah,” Steve writhed on his dick. “I wanna see the money shot...no, come inside me...no, take video on your phone so I can watch it later and get off again.”

“I am not stopping to take out my phone right now,” Bucky told him, unamused. “And I sure as hell am not making amateur porn that could get back to my husband.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve said. “Just give it to me, baby. Hard. Man, I’m gonna think about your dick every time I get off now.”

“Every time?” Why did Steve keep saying things that were distracting him from his climax?

Steve’s cheeks colored. “Probably.”

“What, even with your wife?” Steve hid his face.

“I wear a butt plug when we’re together sometimes. Definitely gonna pretend it’s you.”

“What the--why?” Now Bucky was starting to lose the mood altogether.

“Cuz I’d come so much harder if you were fucking me while I did her.”

Now Bucky felt borderline affronted. “I’m not going to fuck you while you bone your wife,” he said, having half a mind to withdraw.

“I know,” Steve told him calmly. “It’s just a fantasy.” Bucky didn’t know how he felt about being a fantasy by which Steve fucked his wife. No, he did know. And he didn’t like it.

“Hey, hey, where you goin?” Steve asked, clenching as Bucky tried to pull out.

“This got weird, Steve. Come on, it’s over.”

“No it’s not,” Steve insisted with a frown. “You still haven’t come yet.”

“It’s fine.” And Bucky pulled out, his balls screaming at him that it was not fine. It was not remotely fine.

“Come on, Buck.” And he’d forgotten how strong Steve was before he found himself suddenly flat on his back on the bed.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “Judo?”

“Sex Judo,” Steve grinned, leaning over him, quickly straddling Bucky and sitting back on his dick. Okay, that was unexpected.

“WHAT the fuck?”

Steve started to move his hips, smirking. “Pretty much.”

“I’d call bullshit on your being a virgin, except no way would your ass be this tight otherwise.”

“You like it?” Steve asked, flexing and posing as he kept riding Bucky.

“No, I fucking hate it.” How was it possible to be so annoyed and so turned on at the same time?

“Oh, yeah, Buck. Oo.” Steve was starting to get into it again, fondling his junk and increasing his pace.

“Are you--are you seriously getting hard again? Already?” This did not bode well.

“You feel really good,” Steve whispered, needy, bouncing higher. “I told you.” He tok a second to grind, making Bucky gasp. “That was the best I ever had.”

“Steve.” He suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah, baby?” He was too into it himself, hardly paying attention to Bucky’s voice now.

“Here it comes.”

“Oh yeah!” Steve moved faster, clenching and moving his hand on his dick more urgently. “Oh god, yeah!”

“Shit!” Bucky groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. How was this so hot?

“Oo, I’m all slippery inside.” Steve sounded surprised, and inordinately pleased. “Oh god, your come’s inside me.” Bucky opened his eyes to find Steve jerking off hard, hips still as he felt Bucky’s withering length slip out, and yet he was undeterred. Bucky watched him reach climax again, spurting hot pearls across his abs.

“Jesus.” Bucky needed to get away from him before they did nothing else all afternoon. “You’re like a porn star or something.”

“Thanks,” Steve grinned, flushed and refreshed looking. “Wanna finish that shower?”

“What, together?” Bucky looked dubious again. Not a good idea.

Steve smirked down at him, tilting his head. “What, you afraid of me now or something?”

It was a fair question. “No,” Bucky answered quickly. He was afraid of how much he wanted to do that again. Cheating on Monty with his permission was one thing. Starting an affair was totally different.

“How about a bath, then?” he offered. “Or...we have a jacuzzi?” That was even worse. And there were some things Bucky couldn’t say no to.

An hour later found them sloshing the water out of the tub in the jacuzzi, Bucky pounding Steve’s ass to kingdom come, the hot water both relaxing and arousing. “Oh god, baby. Yeah!” If only Steve weren’t such a porn star. Maybe he would have a hope of getting home to his sister’s house today. But sex in the hot tub led to sex on the kitchen counter, which led to sex on the couch.

Finally, Bucky lay back, panting, feeling dehydrated from all the fluid loss. “No more,” he begged Steve. “Uncle. Please.”

“You say that like this was all my idea,” Steve grinned, standing up to catch the fluid dribbling out of him on a tissue before pulling his boxers back on. He winced a little. Even Mr. Eager had to admit they’d done it a little too much when his ass was sore.

“I gotta get out of here,” Bucky panted, rolling off the couch and crawling for the door, not trusting either of them if he stayed the extra minute to pull his pants back on.

Steve giggled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” Bucky kept crawling. Just 20 more feet.

“What, back to Brooklyn?” Steve followed him, slowly.

“No, back to my sister’s.” Details, details.

“So you’ll be right across the street if I get lonely later,” Steve said.

“Don’t even think about it!” Bucky grumbled, almost within reach of the front door.

“You’re not really gonna crawl across the street naked from the waist down, on your hands and knees.”

Bucky stopped. Okay, when he put it that way. “Give me my pants,” he demanded. “But don’t come near me.”

Steve laughed, tossing over his boxers and jeans. “What are you, afraid of me or something?”

“Yes!” Bucky told him, rolling over to pull on his pants. “You keep that beautiful ass far away from me, Steve Rogers.”

Steve, of course, thought this was hilarious, and couldn’t seem to take a sip of his beer for all the giggling he was doing. “Stop being cute!” Bucky scolded him, pointing an accusing finger.

“Who’s being cute?” Steve said, coming over to stare down at him. “You’re the one lying there on the floor like a helpless turtle.”

“I’m not!” Bucky protested.

“Okay, well in that case, get up, turtle.” Bucky floundered a little, all of his muscles screaming for him to stop moving. “See?” Steve said, crouching down, smiling. “Turtle.”

“I told you,” Bucky gasped. “Stay away from me, Steve Rogers.”

Steve laughed, helping Bucky to his feet and standing back until he could cover his lower half again. “Stop looking!” Bucky grumped. Steve’s eyes were heavy on his bare skin, as though they hadn’t just fucked for 12 hours straight.

Steve grinned. “Hey, I’m keepin’ my distance, ain’t I?” Bucky turned his back on him, needing some pretence of privacy. But he realized too late that had been a bad idea. Steve snuggled up behind him as soon as his jeans were zipped.

“Steeeeve,” Bucky warned.

“I’m just sayin’ goodbye, honey,” he murmured, kissing Bucky’s jaw below his earlobe.

“Goodbye, Mr. Handsy,” Bucky told him. “Now it’s time to let go.”

“What if I don’t wanna,” Steve whined softly.

“Too bad,” Bucky told him, feeling cruel. “I don’t belong to you.”

“K.” Steve let go and stepped back. “Honest, though, pal. Thanks. It was really...nice.”

Bucky turned and gave him a cordial nod. This was the weirdest morning after ever. “Same to you, buddy.” Wait, were they buddies? Everything about this felt fake. And what did he do now? Hug goodbye? Hearty handshake?

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Steve wanted to know, hitting Bucky with the sad puppy eyes.

“Maybe,” Bucky said, though he really didn’t think it was a good idea for them to spend time together so soon. “I’ll let you know.”

Steve seemed to know he was getting the brush-off. “Well…” He scuffed his foot against the hardwood floor. “Sounds good.” Bucky didn’t know what he’d been about to say, but that wasn’t it. He walked to the door, because he wasn’t sure he’d ever leave if he didn’t force himself to do it now.

“See you,” he said, turning back.

Steve nodded, unable to look at him. “Later.”

Chapter Text

Bucky felt strange walking across the street in the early morning light. It hadn’t hit him until just now that they’d been fucking all night. He’d been so wrapped up in Steve, in sensation, in getting to be with the ripped body of every gay boy’s dream. He hadn’t even realized he was tired. That he hadn’t slept at all. He wondered what time it was, but realized his watch had come off before the jacuzzi, and was probably still in Steve’s bathroom. He couldn’t even remember when he’d lost his shoes, but he certainly didn’t have them now. But he knew if he’d gone back for them, he wasn’t going to leave.

Bucky could tell himself that it had been a one-time thing (though by his count, it was more like 8 times by now), that it had just been sex, that there was nothing more between them. But he kept remembering Steve’s goofy giggle, the way he made sad eyes to get Bucky to do what he wanted, how warm his body felt pressed against Bucky’s in the afterglow, how he called his name--or the silly nickname he’d given him--when he was about to come. Were those things you thought of when you recalled a one-night stand? Bucky wasn’t sure.

Entering Kate’s house, he made sure everything was still where it was supposed to be, fed and watered the cat, and went to get his computer. It was 10, and just about teatime in London. That meant Monty could at least check messages, even if he wasn’t able to reply. Bucky texted him, sent a snapchat of his tired, smiling face, telling his husband he missed him, and then wrote an email that there had been developments in his ‘allowance’ with Steve, to phone him when he was ready and he would give a full report. Monty’s text came back right away. “Free soon. I’ll call you.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky.” Monty was so romantic. And eloquent, and poetic. He made Bucky feel like a dunce sometimes, which wasn’t easy, considering he did have a PhD. Now that Bucky had made contact with his husband as ordered, he crawled into bed and stretched out, feeling every last one of the sore muscles he’d exercised to the point of strain, fucking Steve all night. Had it been worth it? At the time, hell yes. To the point of becoming frenzied for more. But now? Had it been worth it to cheat on his husband 6, 8 times? Not really. He just hoped Monty didn’t regret having given him permission, because Bucky felt that he’d more than taken advantage of his husband’s generosity.

The skype ring woke him up. Bucky had no idea how long he’d been asleep. He pressed the answer button, trying to get himself together. His husband’s handsome face was looking at him from the other side of the Atlantic. His moustache was still a pristine dark brown, but after almost ten years together, the hair at his temples was brushed with hints of gray. “Hello, my darling. Did I wake you?”

“No.” Bucky rubbed his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Monty’s eyes twinkled. “Long night?”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah.”

“Give me details, love. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

Bucky glanced around at the background of the picture, trying to gauge if Monty was somewhere truly private. “Are you...alone?”

“Alone but for you, sweet angel. Now…” He shrugged out of his starched shirt and half-rose, showing Bucky the open fly of his pants. “Tell me everything.”

So Bucky did. He did it as if he were writing erotica, giving the details in the most sensual way possible, telling it to Monty as if he’d been there instead of Bucky--or Steve, depending on who’d been doing what. His husband gasped and came as Bucky was recounting how it felt to push his cock inside Steve’s plush, virgin-tight ass. Bucky stopped, and waited, resting his cheek in his hand. Monty really was cute when he got so worked up. His cheeks were rosie. “Good god, darling!” he panted. “You almost make me wish it had been on video.”

“Don’t say that,” Bucky said quickly. “We can’t risk your reputation by having footage like that.” He didn’t mention that Steve had asked for video to be taken himself. Maybe he hadn’t just been being freaky, maybe he’d meant to show Peggy.

“Of course you’re right,” Monty said, reaching for some tissue just off-camera. He rolled his eyes. “Good heavens! If that’s just the start, I can hardly imagine how the rest went.”

Bucky smiled, feeling all the warm fuzzies for this amazing man who basically let him get away with murder and then thanked him for it. “I’ll tell you the rest later, sweetheart. When you’re ready. Now why don’t you tell me how the votes went today?” He waited for Monty to clean up and then spent the next hour listening to boring gossip about lord so and so and his eternal feud with the earl of blah dee blah and how they were constantly stabbing one another in the back with dessert forks in every vote and pretending no one else could see. Most days it was amusing. Today, Bucky was just tired. And when his eyes would drift shut, he would see Steve. Smiling at him. Steve’s giant pecs. Steve’s paddled-pink ass, pushing back against him, hear him begging for Bucky to take him deeper, harder.

Bucky blinked, realizing he was a) falling asleep b) supposed to be listening to his husband and c) hard.

“But you mustn’t let me go on like this, darling. I know it’s all terribly boring stuff, for you even moreso than I. And you’re falling asleep, poor dear, I can see your eyes closing.”

Bucky smiled sleepily. “Sorry. I’m usually more awake this time of day.”

“That’s alright, my love. You go get some shut-eye, and I shall go tie things up here. It looks likely we’ll have an early end to the week. Shall I come home for the weekend?”

Bucky’s eyes were suddenly wide open. “You’re not--you--baby, you know I always want to see you…Are you sure?”

Monty chuckled, that rich sound that used to give Bucky Cary Grant flashbacks. “You’re wondering am I coming home early to go fisticuffs with this new admirer of yours.”

Bucky couldn’t help but blush and stammer.

“My darling, I meant what I said. I’d still like to meet him, but if you feel it’s too soon, I understand.”

“Please come home,” Bucky found himself reaching for the screen. “Come home, honey. We can do whatever you want.”

Monty smiled. “How could I resist such an invitation from my dearest love?” He blew Bucky a kiss. “I’ll ring you on the way to the airport, shall I?”

“Please.”

“I love you, my darling.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, watching his husband hang up the phone. Why was he crying? Was he worried? Relieved? Upset that his time with Steve had come to such an abrupt end? Bucky closed the laptop and sagged back into the bed. Maybe he could sleep until Monty was back home, and worry about what it meant and how he felt about it later.

*

It was dark when Bucky’s eyes snapped open, having felt the weight of another person pushing down the mattress. What time was it? What day was it? “Monty?”

“Aw, you forgot my name already?” It was Steve’s voice.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped. “What the fuck are you doing here?” This was his sister’s house. “How did you get in?”

Like an affectionate golden retriever, Steve’s bulk crawled over to him and settled on top of Bucky. “Okay, so I came over to see if you wanted some leftovers, found the door unlocked.”

“Oh my god!”

“Don’t worry,” Steve told him. “This neighborhood is safe as they come. But I figured...might as well make sure you were okay, so long as...you know.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how he felt about Steve lying on top of him. Hadn’t they talked about not seeing each other so soon? “Steve. I gotta tell you somethin.”

Steve drew back. “What?” He gasped. “You’re pregnant?”

Bucky swatted him. “No, dumbass. Very funny. Anyway, aren’t you the one who’d be pregnant?”

Steve considered this. “No, I mean. We’d probably both be.”

“ONE time, Steve!”

He could hear Steve’s grin in his voice. “Hey, with me, maybe that’s all it takes.”

“Well maybe I got you pregnant 7 times. You could have octuplets. Be the new octodad.”

“Aw, sweetheart.” Bucky really wished he’d stop with the endearments. And the soft kisses. “I’d be your octodad any day.”

“ Steve. ”

“What?”

“Monty’s coming home this weekend.” He expected Steve to be intimidated. Or at least worried, back off a bit. He expected wrong.

“Buck, that’s great news! Congrats!”

“...what?”

“Hey, I mean, if Pegs came home for a short weekend, I’d pee the floor like an overexcited dog. How often do either of our partners come home to see us in the middle of their jobs?”

“Not...often.”

“Hey, you want me to cook you a romantic dinner for two?”

Bucky was the one in shock. Why was Steve so excited? And why was he still lying on top of Bucky? “For real?”

“Who else do I have to practice my culinary training on?”

“You’re crazy!”

Steve just looked at him.

“Steve Rogers, are you for real? You spent last night letting me bone your brains out, and now you’re cheerfully offering to cook dinner for me and my husband, like you’re the damn poolboy slash butler?”

“Poolboy slash butler. I think I saw a porno like that once.”

“Steve! I’m serious!”

“Okay, okay.” He finally rolled off Bucky to plop onto the mattress next to him, both of them looking up at the ceiling now as if they were stargazing. “I mean, hey,” Steve said, reaching for his hand. “You want me to stay out of your hair, give you the whole weekend alone together, I’m totally cool with that. I mean, I’ll even housesit so’s you can go into the city or head to the Hamptons or somethin’. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I want what Monty wants,” Bucky replied firmly.

“And if he wants to fight me?”

“He would never fight you. He’s not that kind of guy. Besides, he did give permission.”

Steve’s grin was slow. “So he’s a lover, not a fighter?”

“Steve, don’t even go there.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m up for it if you think he’d want it.”

“Steve, please.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve squeezed his hand. “I admit, I’m just tryin’ to think of excuses to get more of that hot dick.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“No I’m not.” Steve rolled back over on top of Bucky. “I just happen to think you’re swell, and super hot in bed, and the only guy I ever met brave enough to fuck me in the ass.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “You make it sound like the loch ness monster is hiding up there or something.”

Steve shrugged. “The way guys avoided it, I was starting to think maybe there was.”

“First of all, it’s way too tight up there.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah?”

“Second of all, even with lube…”

Steve sat up, straddling his hips. “Go on.”

“There’s just no way a cryptozoite could fit up there.”

Steve’s hips were already rocking, rubbing his plush cheeks against Bucky’s groin, and he couldn’t feign surprise. He figured he’d kind of done it to himself.

“There’s only one thing I want up there.” He reached down, unfastening Bucky’s pants.

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, pupils blown.

“Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll stop.”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. “Give me that ass.”

“Your wish is my command.” Bucky reached up, gave it a sharp slap, eliciting a moan from Steve. “God, I love it when you spank me.” So Bucky did it again. “Yeah!”

“Take those fucking shorts off. I wanna feel that luscious ass in my hands.” Steve was naked in the blink of an eye. “Damn.” But it was hard to think, because he’d pulled Bucky out of his pants, and was stroking him like he was trying to start a fire. “Steve.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“You’re gonna peel the skin off. Let up a little, huh?”

“You got lube?” Bucky pointed to the pump bottle on the bedside table. “Oh-ho! Someone’s been spankin’ their monkey.”

“My husband is two thousand miles away. How do you think I have sex when he’s not here?”

Steve grinned. “I got a new way for you to blow off steam.”

“Shut up and bring that ass up here.” Steve shifted, rubbing his erection against Bucky’s stomach and abs. Bucky groaned, grabbing Steve’s ass and spreading him, tucking his head up against that tight pucker like he’d been doing it for years. Steve gasped, trembling. “Slick it up, cowboy,” Bucky growled. “We don’t need the ride to be THAT rough.”

Steve seemed to come to himself a little, reaching for the lube and sliding slick fingers up and down Bucky’s shaft. “Give it to me, daddy,” he moaned, pushing his hips back to take Bucky in past the first ring of muscle.

Bucky started to gasp and squirm. It was so hard not to just thrust home. “Steve,” he panted, reaching up to steady him by placing his hands on Steve’s chest.

Steve giggled, and it sent weird vibrations down his shaft. “Did you just grab my tits?”

Bucky glared. “Yes. You got a problem with that?”

Steve laughed, shaking his hair back. “No, I like having my titties played with.” He grunted, taking Bucky in a little deeper.

“You are one weird guy, Steve Rogers,” Bucky told him. But he hardly cared at this point. Groping Steve’s pecs was kind of hot, and nothing really mattered except thrusting deeper into that crushing velvet heat.

It wasn’t long before Steve was riding him like a mechanical bull, taking Bucky balls-deep, bouncing and grinding against his abs by turns. Bucky had caught onto something Steve really seemed to like and had his fingers clamped on Steve’s nipples, jerking them roughly as he moved. For Bucky, it would have been torture, but Steve was leaking pre-come like crazy.

“You like riding that hard dick, don’t you?” Bucky growled, thrusting to give Steve more height.

“I love it!” Steve gasped, nearly drooling with delight. “Bucky...you make me come so good…”

“Turn around, sweetcheeks,” Bucky said, gripping Steve’s hips to get them to stop moving.

“Huh?” Steve was punchdrunk with lust. It took him a minute to process Bucky’s request. Then he got it, reversing his seat with the ease of a gymnast, offering Bucky a view of his backside.

“Move!” Bucky ordered with a hard crack delivered to Steve’s right cheek.

Steve gasped, but then his hips were moving like he was trying to win the triple crown. Bucky lay back and enjoyed the view, slapping Steve’s cheeks by turns, trying to hold off his orgasm for as long as he could. “Oh god! Oh god, Bucky! Oh god!”

“Show me, honey,” Bucky tugged at Steve’s hip. “I wanna see you come.” Steve twisted just enough for Bucky to see his hand moving on that fat cock. Steve bounced and stroked, throwing his head back and making a sound somewhere between a scream and a roar when he came, hot cream shooting out in messy arcs all over Bucky’s thigh and the bedspread.

That was it for Bucky. He gripped Steve’s hips and thrust up and up until he was shooting his load between those round globes, gasping and groaning as he filled Steve’s ass for at least the fifth time that day. He fell back, exhausted. “Fuck!”

“Mmmmmm.” Steve was doing some weird kind of meditating thing, still perched on Bucky’s hips, gripping his knees, and bearing down on him.

“Whoa! Are you trying to break my dick?” Bucky gasped.

Steve turned around and looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t squeeze you out?”

“Hell no!” Bucky growled. “What am I, a tube of toothpaste?”

“I thought you’d be soft...after.”

“Well I wasn’t quite there yet, okay?” It was hard not to be cranky when someone had a death grip on your manparts. Steve’s lips curled.

“You mean you’re still hard for me?”

“Well not anymore!” Bucky lied. You didn’t get to play with the toys if you were going to break them. Steve bore down again, more gently this time, his expression contemplative.

“You are still hard!”

“Shut up!” Bucky started to withdraw. “Gimme my dick back, asshole.”

Steve laughed. “Literally.”

“Fuck you, Steve.”

That was a sexy smirk if Bucky had ever seen one. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Please.”

“Give a guy a break, would ya?”

“Okay.” And then, finally, he pulled off.

Bucky immediately checked his dick for injuries. It was red, a little chafed, but not too bad, considering.

“I’m gonna go make us some sundaes and we’ll have an ice cream break.”

“Break?”

Steve paused at the door, looking back deviously. “Oh, you’re not getting off that easy, Pokey.”

“Gross, Steve!” Bucky yelled after him. That was all the mental image he needed: pornographic claymation.

But he enjoyed the ice cream break. Steve made a mean sundae. They watched ESPN and Steve pretended to drop whipped cream and fudge on Bucky by accident. A lot of wrestling and hair-pulling followed, and then more ice cream. They couldn’t just let it melt, Bucky had told Steve, who reluctantly agreed.

But once the ice cream was gone, Bucky found there was still whipped cream and hot fudge to spare. “Now I get your thing with food,” Bucky said, jumping when Steve shoved the cannister up his ass and filled him with a different sort of cream.

“Ohhh god, you suck,” he moaned, letting his head fall into the pillow as Steve happily ate his ass. “How are you married to a woman?”

“You keep askin’ me that,” Steve said, voice muffled in Bucky’s ass.

“And I’m gonna keep askin--ohhh god...Steve.”

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, hon.” Hon? When had he started returning Steve’s endearments?

“Can I put my dick in you?”

Bucky sighed, laughing. “Like you gotta ask.” That was a real straight guy move, though. Eat a thing, then fuck it. “Just make sure you spread me really good first.”

Steve paused, halfway to pressing his tip against Bucky’s wet hole. “Uh...k.”

Bucky glanced back, catching him. “Steve!”

“Hey, I asked because I was horny. So sue me.” Bucky tried to swat him and missed. “Mind if I grab my vibrator while I wait?” Bucky looked back at him, nervous. “I mean for ME, dummy,” Steve smirked. “‘Less you wanna try--”

“No. Thanks. I’m good, Steve.” Steve gave his ass a grope before he left to get astroglide and a toy for himself. Bucky tried to think of how they’d gotten here. Not even two days and they were already speaking easily about what they wanted and how it should work. Like lovers, not one night stands. He sighed. He really hoped Monty could forgive him.

After Steve opened him up and inserted his own anal pleasure toy, he fucked Bucky until he begged for Steve to finish. Not only was he thick, but he was apparently suffering from pig dick. Which was one thing when you were doing oral and could tell a guy to go fuck himself, and another thing when that guy was up your ass, pounding for the gold medal. “You’re gonna make me bleed, Stevie,” Bucky whined. He really did go at it like Bucky’s ass was a vaj, and that was just wrong.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Steve said, rolling Bucky over onto his back. “Just five more minutes. I promise.”

Bucky sighed. “More lube, please.” Steve obliged. “Come here, monster dick,” Bucky said, looping his knees over Steve’s shoulders. The face Steve made pushing back in said maybe he was closer to his nut than Bucky had thought.

“Play with my tits?” Steve asked, grinding against Bucky’s cheeks. He reached up to pinch and squeeze. “Oh yeah, baby. That’s good.” And he started to pound Bucky again. Maybe Steve was curved a different direction than he’d noticed before, because this angle was way better. Bucky’s toes were tingling, and he was yelping his way through a prostate orgasm in less than two minutes. “You like that, baby?” Steve was asking him. “Does taking me make you come hard?”

“Shut up and fuck me!” Bucky hissed, pinching him. And Steve did, coming himself not long after.

“Oh, Buck,” he collapsed on top of him, and Bucky wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

“Now let my ass rest,” Bucky said. “You about scraped me raw, bear dick.”

“Hey, I’m not a bear,” Steve grinned. “Before I started manscaping, I was totally a wolf.”

“Okay,” Bucky smiled. “Fair enough.” And that explained his inability to get fucked, as well. They lay there for several minutes, panting, letting the sweat dry. “Hey, Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I meant it. You get that monster dick out of my ass right now.” Steve grinned, pulling out. “What the hell, man?”

Steve shrugged. “What can I say? You make me hard.”

“Okay, but you literally just came less than ten minutes ago.” Steve just grinned. “Asshole!” Bucky threw a pillow at him.

Chapter Text

They spent the rest of the night lounging in bed and fucking intermittently. Bucky felt like he’d given Steve ample warning of Monty’s return. Though there was no way Steve was still going to be here when Monty got here, their deadline just seemed to force things into honeymoon mode.

For the next two days, they spent every second together, cooking, sleeping, doing chores, watching TV, and of course, fucking each other’s brains out. Bucky was a little worried. He was getting stretched to the point he could take Steve without too much prep. Steve still preferred to take Bucky from the bottom, but he had a weird habit of switching right when Bucky had decided now, for sure, he was going to stay on the bottom. And Bucky was slowly training him to be a better top, letting him know having a fat cock wasn’t enough, you also had to know how to use it. Assholes were different from vaginas. Though really, shouldn’t he already know that? Maybe he and Peggy had been married so long, he’d forgotten. Bucky hadn’t actually asked; he didn’t want to know.

Finally the day arrived. They spent the morning cleaning and airing out the house, and then Bucky drove to the airport to pick up his husband. Parting that morning was odd. Steve just kept looking at him like it was the last time he was going to see Bucky. And maybe it was. Maybe that would be for the best. All the same, Bucky grabbed him and kissed him like a romance novel heroine before he left. And Steve clutched him like he was never going to let Bucky go. Then he plodded back across the street to his own house, and disappeared.

The whole drive, Bucky talked to himself about what he was going to tell Monty. Tried to shrug off the weird honeymoon he’d just had with Steve. It hadn’t meant anything. Back to real life. Back to normal.

Except it wasn’t normal, because normal was being alone and only seeing his husband on skype and snapchat.

Bucky didn’t have to pick Monty up from the airport. They could certainly afford a cab or a rental car or anything else his husband wanted to drive home. He just couldn’t wait to see him, and vice versa. Bucky parked and got to the security checkpoint an hour early. He didn’t mind waiting. It gave him more time to think about what he was going to say.

But then Monty was coming out of customs, and Bucky couldn’t stand it. He nearly got bodychecked by the TSA for running toward his husband. Fortunately, Monty was even faster than Bucky, and caught him before he could pass the officers. “My darling!” He grabbed Bucky up in a classic romance swingaround hug. “Let me look at you, my gorgeous love.” He stood back, smiling and smiling. Bucky grabbed him in another hug when he saw Monty’s eyes welling up.

“Don’t you fucking cry!” he told him. “If you start, I’m gonna start, and that’s it!” They walked arm in arm down to baggage claim.

“I’m astounded how I can be perpetually overcome by the sight of you again. Just when I think I might be getting used to this life.”

“Do you want me to quit?” Bucky asked, glancing over at him. “Should I look for a job over there?”

“And leave your family? Your beloved Brooklyn? How could I ask you to do that?”

“It’s not your fault you’re a house of lords.”

“Well, it is a bit,” Monty admitted. “I could have been born a pauper.”

Bucky laughed. “Since when have you had control over that?”

“Touche.” Monty sighed, stopping as they got outside to take in the smoggy New Haven air.

“Still better than the city,” Bucky offered.

“Indeed.”

“So, you never told me.” Bucky took the shoulder bag from his husband, insisting on carrying all the luggage to the car. “Where do you want to stay this weekend? St--a friend offered to take care of Kate’s cat, so we’re good for wherever.”

Monty’s reply was a little too casual. “Well, I thought we should continue your house-sitting venture. Greenwich is charming, as I recall.”

“I mean, parts of it--”

His husband had a devious twinkle in his eye. “I don’t believe we’ll be getting out much, so it may not be of any consequence.”

“Oh.” Why was Bucky blushing?

Monty’s hand slid over his hip, gently tugging Bucky close. “Kiss me, my darling. How I’ve ached for you.”

Bucky couldn’t not jump him after that. They made it to the car, but just barely. It was a relief to feel the familiar body underneath his again.

When they got back to Kate’s, Monty showered while Bucky ordered in from one of the fancier places downtown. They could pay the delivery. Pretty much everyone out here could. He was just pouring the wine when his husband emerged from the steamy bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. Bucky couldn’t help but admire his slender, wiry figure, so different from Steve’s. “Penny for your thoughts,” his husband said, patting his hair dry with a second towel.

“Just thinking how nice it is to have you back home,” Bucky smiled. Monty came over and kissed him sweetly, reaching behind Bucky to grab a glass of wine.

“What shall we do while we wait for the food?” he asked.

“Massage?” Bucky was nearly sexed out from the last few days, but he did want to put his hands on his husband’s body.

“You’re a treasure,” Monty told him, kissing Bucky again. Naturally, the massage led to more adult activities. Bucky had a mouth full of cock when the doorbell rang. He glanced up at his husband, who didn’t seem to have heard it. He backed off carefully.

“I’ll get it,” he told Monty, patting his thigh apologetically before turning to go to the door.

“Hurry back, darling!” Monty called after him.

The door, that proved to be a problem. Because it was food, but not the food Bucky had ordered. It was Steve, carrying his romantic picnic basket. “Steve, what the hell?” Bucky hissed. “Get out of here! Monty just got back.”

“I know,” Steve grinned, walking in. “I just brought you guys somethin’ to eat, so’s you wouldn’t have to worry about cooking.”

“We ordered in!” It was so hard to convey anger in a whisper. “Now get out!”

For a moment, Steve looked hurt. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it--wait.” He took a closer look at Bucky. “You been suckin’ dick.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, Buck. Sorry. Didn’t think I’d be interruptin’ already.”

“Well you are!” Bucky tried not to flap with anxiety. “So scram!”

“You got it, pal.” Steve hurried to the door, trying to be stealthy. Of course, he paused on the threshold. “Just tell me one thing.”

“No!” Bucky started to shove at him, intending on slamming the door in his face. Unfortunately, Steve weighed almost 250 pounds, and didn’t budge.

“Who tastes better? Me or him?”

“Steve!”

Steve grinned, pleased. “Cool. See you later, alligator.”

Bucky grunted with frustration, slamming the door on him. That had NOT been his answer. But at least it had gotten Steve out the door.

Bucky returned to the bedroom, doing his best to not think of Steve and not succeeding very well. Fortunately, his technique was not affected, and his husband climaxed as usual. Afterward, Bucky held him, letting him cool back down.

“We shouldn’t let the food get cold,” Monty said, making an effort to get up in spite of multiple orgasms since getting off the plane, jet-lagged and all.

“Oh.” Bucky realized he hadn’t told him. “That wasn’t the food, that was--”

Monty blinked down at him. “Your blond beau? Already?”

Bucky squirmed. “He just came by to drop off something homemade for us--I didn’t ask him to!” he added, hurriedly.

Monty chuckled. “No, I’m sure you didn’t. Shall we see what it is?”

“If you want to?” Bucky asked. For some reason, the picnic basket on the kitchen counter was like a bad omen for him. He didn’t want to touch it, take a chance at ruining his first night back with his husband.

“Absolutely. I’m dreadfully curious.” Monty rose from the bed, taking the sheet with him. “To be perfectly honest, I should have liked to have met him--”

Bucky looked shocked. “But we were--”

Monty put a gentle finger to his lips, smiling. “But the timing was not fortuitous.” He towed Bucky out to the main room by the hand, making a beeline for the picnic basket. “How quaint,” he declared, opening the left-hand side. “Darling…”

The tone of his voice made Bucky worry what in the hell Steve had put in there. If he’d brought over a picnic basket full of dildos, Bucky was going to kick his ass.

“He’s somewhat of a gourmet, you say?” Monty was asking.

“Well...he went to culinary school…” Bucky couldn’t say much more. Steve hadn’t exactly cooked for him outside of the original picnic basket, which had been quite edible, but not orgasmic. His husband lifted out a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries.  “Oh my god.”

“Indeed.” Monty poked at them. “They look exquisite.

Had Steve seriously brought over sex food for them? Bucky felt like an asshole for having yelled at him. But it was also weird. Was this Steve’s way of participating?

He couldn’t even think about that. Too many visual images. Too many feelings. But that apparently wasn’t all. Monty was reaching in and pulling out a chocolate cheesecake topped with raspberries. “Oh my god.”

“He seems to be quite the chef,” Monty observed. He glanced over his shoulder at Bucky. “Do you really think he made it himself?”

Bucky sighed, nodding. He could absolutely believe it. Steve was just...too perfect.

“Shall we try a piece, darling?” Monty asked. “It looks divine.”

Bucky had to admit it really really did. But there was something more pressing. “What’s the last thing you ate?” he asked his husband.

He took a moment to think about it.  “There was an in-flight meal, but…”

“You didn’t eat it,” Bucky already knew the answer.

“No.” Monty looked guilty.

“Did you at least eat breakfast before you left?”

His husband looked dismayed. “I might have had a piece of toast…”

Bucky carefully took the cheesecake and set it on the end of the counter. “You need something solid before you start jumping into things like rich dairy desserts.” His husband had a notoriously fussy stomach. Bucky thought it was all the British food he’d eaten as a young man.

“But darling…” Monty’s begging puppy eyes were almost as bad as Tony’s.

Bucky laughed, sliding his arms around him. “Why don’t we go finish getting dressed? I can whip us up an appetizer, but I bet the food will be here any--” the doorbell rang. Bucky looked at Monty draped in their bedsheet meaningly.

“Be back in a tick, my love.” He kissed Bucky again before disappearing into the guest bedroom. Bucky answered the door again. This time it WAS the food. He thanked the delivery person and gave him a tip. He was just about to shut the door when he caught movement from across the street. Steve was outside on his doorstep, watching. Well, that was creepy. Bucky waved at him and went back inside.

The rest of the evening went quickly. Monty was falling asleep at the table once he’d gotten a bit of food into him. He fed Bucky a strawberry and drifted off in his arms without trying a single bite of Steve’s amazing cheesecake. Bucky tucked him in and settled down with a book, hoping to get sleepy if he spent a while reading.

His phone went off. It was Steve. Of course it was.

Did he like it?

Haven’t had a chance to taste it yet.

What?! What a waste!

He’s jet-lagged, give him a break.

...okay.

Can I come over?

No you cannot come over! What the hell is wrong with you?

Lonely.

Deal with it.

Bucky shut his phone off and set it beside the bed. Monty reached for him in his sleep, and Bucky curled up with him, finally lulled to sleep by the warmth of his husband’s body.

They ate the cheesecake for breakfast the next morning. It wasn’t a very healthy breakfast, but Monty was eager to try it. They were finishing up tea, chatting about maybe going out to play some tennis when there was a knock at the door.

Oh no. It couldn’t be. Bucky realized he’d never turned his phone back on. Monty rose to answer it before Bucky could stop him. He was chasing after him when Monty opened the door.

“Hi.”

“Good Morning…”

“Just thought I’d drop by and see how you liked the treats.”

“Oh my.” Bucky could see the moment his husband realized Steve was Steve, and actually stood back to check him out. He wasn’t sure how he felt about his husband checking out another guy so thoroughly. Which was completely unfair, given...everything.

Steve grinned. It was hard to miss. Bucky had a theory he enjoyed being checked out. Regardless of who it was doing the checking. He had feelings about that, too, but he was going to push them down as far as they would go. He leaned on the door, just smiling while Monty finished being aroused and intimidated.

“I beg your pardon,” he said at last. “You must be my Jamie’s Steve.”

“Jamie?” He saw Steve glancing over his shoulder to look at Bucky like he’d somehow hidden his identity. Had he really been using the nickname for that long?

Monty glanced back, uncertain. “He doesn’t call me Jamie,” Bucky told him, rolling his eyes.

“Oh?” Monty looked back at Steve, extending his hand a bit after the fact for a shake.

“That’s Bucky.” Steve pointed, as though they might not be sure whom they were discussing.

“I see…” Monty sounded puzzled. Bucky had had enough of keeping his distance. If Steve was going to grab him for getting too close, he was going to have to deal with the fight Bucky would give him.

“It’s a play on my middle name, sweetheart,” he said, sliding an arm around his husband’s shoulders.

“Well. How clever!” Monty declared. “Bucky.” He tried it out. “Bucky.” He glanced over at Bucky, as if trying to fit the name to the face.

“He’s a Bucky, for sure,” Steve said, gently pushing his way into the house.

“Ah--er. Actually…”

“Steve, you can’t just push your way in here,” Bucky scolded him.

“Aw, c’mon. You’re both dressed finally--” That worried Bucky. Just how much had he seen last night? “--and I been waiting patiently. Wanted to come see if you have real English breakfast over here.

“Ugh, no way!” Okay, that was distracting. The mention of disgusting food was a sure turn-off.

Monty pressed his lips together. “My husband doesn’t entirely approve of traditional English breakfast.”

“Please don’t act like beans on toast with runny eggs and smoked fish is a normal breakfast.”

“Now, darling, you’re simply picking those items at random.”

“All English breakfast foods, though,” Steve pointed out.

“Thank you!” Bucky said. Wait, when had he sided with Steve over his husband?

“I like ‘em all,” Steve admitted. “Except spaghetti. Whoever thought of havin’ spaghetti for breakfast?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Monty said. Then he got a certain look in his eye. “It seems you’re somewhat of a chef, Mr. …?”

“Rogers,” Steve told him. “Captain, actually.” He grinned warmly. “But please, call me Steve.”

“Captain?” Monty raised an eyebrow, looking at Bucky like he’d been holding out. Bucky shrugged. He’d had no idea. Apparently military ranks were things that were trotted out to impress the competition, not the prey.

“Yes, well,” Monty did his best to recover quickly. “I’m certain I can have a traditional English breakfast prepared for you, should you ever wish to join--”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do,” Steve said, heading toward the dining table.

“Steve, what the--!?”

“Aww, you’re eatin’ my cheesecake for breakfast,” Steve observed, touched. He glanced back. “A little too busy last night, huh?”

Bucky just covered his eyes. Steve was clearly not going to stop. Monty stepped forward in his defensive hunting spaniel pose. “You seem quite interested in our...er. Activities yestereve. Do you feel that’s wholly appropriate?” His tone said that clearly he did not.

“That depends,” Steve said. He slowly turned back toward them. Bucky wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn Steve was flexing. “What do you think of me?”

Monty spluttered. Americans could be so forward. “Well, I hardly know you!” He backed off a little. “You seem like a decent fellow, and yet. You behave...less so.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve said. He reached down, whipped off his skin-tight running shirt. “I meant what do you think of me?”

Bucky was going to lose it. Why was Steve coming onto his husband? Did he think they were going to just--ohhhh. He probably did. That way, he could keep having sex with Bucky even though Monty was back. Was that his aim? Or was he just a horny bastard who wanted to fuck as many guys as possible?

Bucky pondered that. No, that couldn’t be. Steve had told him he’d only ever been with a handful of guys. This sure was an odd way to show his affection, though. As Bucky watched, Monty walked closer to Steve, for a moment looking like he was even going to reach out and touch those glistening abs.

“Pardon me, Captain Rogers,” he said, letting his hand fall back to his side and looking down guiltily. “While I appreciate you may have questions, I’d like to speak with my husband alone first.”

“Sure,” Steve said easily, pulling his shirt back on and casually strolling back toward the door. He glanced back once at Bucky and winked before disappearing back outside. The nerve!

Bucky walked toward Monty, reaching out to take his hands. Monty was cool in return. “I assume you understood that little exchange?” he asked.

Bucky nodded. “I’m sorry, honey. I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“Is it…” Monty licked his lips. “Is it...worthwhile?”

Bucky blinked. “What, the sex?”

“A bit,” Monty said, looking nervous.

Bucky put his arms around him. “I mean...for me, yeah, it’s pretty good. I’m not sure how he’ll be with you.”

“How do you mean?” Monty asked, looking up at Bucky.

“I mean…” How to put this delicately? “Steve wants to receive, not give.”

“Ahhh.” The look on his husband’s face said he’d known there was a catch. Then he started to consider it. “The rest of him is quite as exquisite?”

“Quite,” Bucky admitted.

“Oh, but, darling, how must you feel standing here with me contemplating such a thing?”

Bucky shrugged. “I did it first, remember?”

Monty nodded, taking his hands in his. “But must we repay tit for tat?” he asked.

“I think it depends what you want,” Bucky told him. “Do you want to have sex with him?”

Monty made a face. “Doubtful.” And then he continued, after a brief pause. “Though I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more.”

“I’m sure he’d do a strip-tease for you if you asked,” Bucky told him.

“I should like that,” Monty said, looking maybe too pleased about the prospect.

This was all super-weird for Bucky. He understood it, but it was still wrong somehow. Mostly he didn’t want to pull Steve into a threesome with his husband when he’d only just gotten back. And Monty agreed on that point.

They finally decided to enjoy their time alone. Steve could always join later. So they played tennis, had brunch, went shopping, and had plenty of cuddle-time and sex back at Kate’s. By the end of the week, though, Monty was starting to get curious again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Finally, the girls were back, and Bucky’s second life was over. He felt relieved. He felt sad. But whatever it was, at least it was over.

“So, how’d it go?” Kate asked. Bucky had the sneaking suspicion that she had been hoping something would happen between him and Steve. Which was weird, because she’d always loved Monty.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How much time you got?”

Sensing a big scoop, Kate quickly arranged for Julie to spend the night at her best friend’s house, and she dragged Bucky out drinking. She knew full well Bucky always spilled more beans when he was liquored up. As he recounted the story, Kate’s eyes got bigger and bigger. “Holy wow!” she declared. “You’re in love with the boy next door!”

“Am not,” he protested. “We’ve just been...doing it a lot.”

“You’re having a torrid affair!” she accused, delighted. “Admit it!”

“Honestly, Katie. It’s just sex.”

“Bullshit!” she poked him in the chest. “How many times have the two of you just snuggled on the couch?”

Bucky tried not to look at her. “A couple times, maybe.”

“Does he rub your back? Make you breakfast?”

“Shut up.”

“I knew it!” She looked triumphant. Then began to sing-song, “Pretty’s in love with Stee-eve, Pretty’s in love with Stee-eve.”

“Kate, please!” Bucky glanced around to see who was listening. But it was Friday, and the pick-up crowd was in full-swing.

“I’m not in love with him, okay?” Bucky told her. “I love my husband.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else,” she pointed out.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You know, for a single gal, you sure do have some interesting notions about how relationships work.”

She shrugged. “I’m a single mother; I have to be flexible. If a hot guy wants to pick me up, it’s not my business that he’s married. I’m just in it for the sex. If one day his wife decides, ‘wow, that floozy you’ve been seeing on the side makes damn good cookies, invite her over for dinner sometime,’ I’ve got no beef with that.”

“And you’d do the wife,” Bucky said, incredulous.

“Heck yeah, I would,” she replied without hesitation. “Do you have any idea how hot women who’ve given birth are? That’s the fine wine of vaginas right there.”

When he made a face, she flashed her dimpled grin. “Will you please stop talking about eating pussy in front of me?”

“You started it,” she pointed out. “Also, you really need to get over this whole squeamishness of the female form thing you’ve got going on. You came out of a vagina. Deal with it. Women are not gross, you big fag.”

“Okay.” Bucky had to close his eyes and swallow his bile for a minute to keep it from going any further. “Women are beautiful. They’re just not for me.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head, taking another swig of beer.

“Anyway, if you like women so much, why aren’t you with one?”

“You’re the homebody,” she said, pointing at him with one finger while the rest held onto her beer. “Lesbian couples are nesters. I’m always on the move. If I had a wife, she’d divorce me for neglect in the first six months. I’d have to get her a sub-wife, and they’d both have to be okay with me hooking up on the road. And then we’d be right back to poly shapes.”

“I love you,” Bucky told her, petting her hair back from her forehead. “But you are one messed-up gal.” She cheerfully flipped him off before ordering another round.  

“So what happens now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “I guess...just back to business as usual.”

“Business,” She said flatly.

Bucky shrugged, trying not to look broody. “I’ll go back to the city and...you’ll have your hot neighbor back.”

“Um, news flash, pretty.” She put her hand on his back, comforting. “I’ve always had that hot neighbor. Not interested.”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean. He’ll be back to being your neighbor again.”

“You mean he won’t be your fuckbuddy anymore,” Kate said. Bucky just shrugged. “You really think it’ll be over just like that?”

“Isn’t that what happens with affairs?” She clearly had a lot more experience with that than he did.

Kate sipped her beer, thoughtful. “Is that how it was with Tony?”

“Oh, God!” Bucky nearly threw his shot glass at her. “Do you gotta bring him up at a time like this?”

She just smirked. “You asked me how affairs went. I’m just pointing out--”

“Shut. Up.”

“If you care about him, it doesn’t have to be over.”

Bucky couldn’t help being broody then. “Yes it does.”

“Because?”

“For one thing, Monty was gonna ask the wife.”

“Oh, shit.” Kate’s eyes got big. “Why?”

“He wants to make sure everything’s above board.”

“What the hell? It’s an affair. There’s nothing aboveboard about it!”

Bucky sighed. “I know. But they work together, so…”

“Oh, SHIT.”

“Basically.” Bucky hung his head, fidgeting with the empty glass. She ordered him two more. “Kate, what are you doing?”

“Come on, Pretty.” She rubbed his back. “Let’s drink those cares away.”

Bucky figured he might as well. He had nothing better to do anymore. Definitely not Steve.

*

They took Lyft home because they were both trashed, though Bucky was far more gone than Kate, who drank for business networking, and held her liquor better by necessity. “Come on, you,” she said, pulling him out of the car when they were home. Bucky stumbled, leaning heavily on her. “Has anyone ever told you you’re fucking heavy?” she complained.

“I got him.”

Kate shrieked, nearly dropping Bucky. She hadn’t seen Steve standing there.

“Oh, Steve.” She breathed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, Katie. Sorry. I was just worried about Buck.”

“Who?”

Steve tugged Bucky into his arms, supporting his half passed-out ass. “This guy right here,” he smiled.

She looked perplexed. “You have nicknames for each other?”

“Sure do,” Steve grinned. “At least...I do for him.”

“That’s cute,” she smiled. “Okay, I’m drunk. Gonna go home.” She pointed at the front door. “You boys play safe.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve watched her swing her heels by their straps as she walked barefoot up the drive. “I think your sister is sexy,” he murmured to Bucky.

“Fuck you,” Bucky grunted. “You lay one hand on her and I’ll knock you out.”

Steve giggled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. She isn’t the Barnes I wanna bang.”

“I’m drunk,” Bucky said by way of protest.

“Good, then you won’t object too much when I fuck you.”

“Steeeeeeeeeeeve,” Bucky whined. “I’m tired and your dick’s too big.”

“Come on, pal.” Steve threw Bucky over his shoulder. “Let’s stretch that tight ass.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky whined. “I’mma throw up.”

Steve paused. “For real?”

He waited while Bucky considered. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” Steve patted him on the ass and walked inside. He laid Bucky gently on clean sheets and went to do...something. Bucky drifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t sure how long it was before Steve came back.

But suddenly he was there, tugging Bucky’s pants down and groping his ass. “Steeeeeeeeeve,” Bucky complained. “Tiired.”

“Quiet,” Steve said. “I’m having fun.”

“Asshole,” Bucky grunted. Then his eyes snapped open as there was suddenly a finger in his. “Steve, what the fuck?” He was being rolled over, and a hot mouth was suddenly nibbling at his cock. “What are you doing?” he whined.

“I told you.” Steve licked it like a lollipop. “Having fun.”

“You bastard.” Bucky flopped back, but he didn’t complain anymore. If Steve could make him hard drunk, he deserved to do whatever he wanted.

Turned out he could.

“Jesus.” Bucky was gasping, fingers twined in Steve’s hair as he bobbed on his cock. “What the fuck?” But it wasn’t all wine and roses. Steve had two fingers inside him now, slowly fucking him.

“More lube,” Bucky whispered, and suddenly his ass was slick with jelly. “Fuuuuuuck.”

“You wanna come in my mouth?” Steve asked.

“I have no idea,” Bucky said. Being hard while he was dead drunk was a new experience. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Okay.” Steve was quiet again as he sucked and stroked him.

“You fucking…” Bucky gasped. “Knob-gobbler...fuck!”

“I love suckin’ your dick, Buck.” Steve said, licking it slowly while he looked up at Bucky.

“Yeah, I can tell,” he said. “So you wanna come up here and sit on it or what?”

“Or what,” Steve said, gently rolling Bucky over, his cock protected in Steve’s fist. He tugged Bucky’s hips up and moved behind him.

“Steeeeeve,” Bucky complained.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll go slow.” He nudged the tip of his thick member up against Bucky’s stretched pucker and sighed, rubbing Bucky’s hips.

“A slow freight train up my ass is still a train,” Bucky complained.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “I wanna be inside you. One last time.” He kissed Bucky’s back. “Give me one last memory to jerk off to after you leave.”

Bucky couldn’t really say no to that. “Okay, but don’t pound me so hard this time.”

“Promise,” Steve said. “Slow and easy.” Bucky squirmed and writhed as Steve pushed his way in, pausing to give him time to adjust. In the end, he felt like he’d been impaled on a sequoia.

“Jesus.”

Steve reached forward to lay his hand over Bucky’s where he had himself braced on the mattress. He kissed the back of Bucky’s neck gently, sensually, as he moved. They were slow, easy pushes that couldn’t even be called thrusts.

“Fuck.” Bucky could tell from how hot his face was that he was red, veins standing out.

“Does it hurt?” Steve asked, nuzzling him.

“There’s a fucking tree trunk in my ass,” Bucky grunted. “What do you think?”

Steve adjusted, pushed in a little more, adjusted again. Bucky gasped as that big head gently nudged his prostate. “Better?”

Bucky couldn’t answer in words, just whines and whimpers. “There’s my baby.” Steve started to rock his hips just at that angle, short nudges up and in that made him see stars.

“Not...your...baby,” he gasped.

“Okay,” Steve agreed easily. “But I love you like you were mine. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”

“Cheating,” Bucky gasped out.

Steve paused, hovering over Bucky, poised to give him more. “So it’s cheating if I love you?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky whined, needing more. “Just seems wrong somehow.”

Steve wrapped an arm around him, starting to move again. “I love you, Buck.” His hand rubbed Bucky’s abs, a strangely soothing motion while he was impaled on Steve’s thick cock. “Love you so much,” he whispered.

“You’re crazy,” Bucky told him, trying to squirm away. But Steve held him fast, starting to thrust in earnest. “No!”

“Come on, Buck. Love can’t be a bad thing.”

“Steve.” Was he protesting, or begging for more? Bucky’s thighs were tingling. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“Let me love you, Buck.” He pressed warm lips to Bucky’s shoulders and back, still moving inside him.

“Like I can stop you,” Bucky said.

“Thatta boy.” He gave Bucky’s ass a little slap.

“Hey!”

“Fuck, I love your ass.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “You love my ass or you love fucking it?”

Steve’s hips were moving faster, pistoning in and out. “All of the above.” It sounded funny, because Steve’s rapid thrusts made his voice vibrate.

“Are you gonna come?” Bucky pushed his hips back a little.

“Yeah I’m gonna come,” Steve gasped.

“Ooo, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Bucky. Nn!”

“Your dick’s so big.”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Spread me with that fat cock.”

“Nnn...yeah.” And then he shifted angles again, and Bucky was screaming like Robert Plant in “Whole Lotta Love.”

“Oh, Buck. I wanna make you scream. Wanna fuck you till you come. Take it. Take me. Oh--ohhhh!” And then Bucky’s ass was suddenly slick with come.

“Damn, Steve, “ he panted.

“Oh, Buck,” he grunted, collapsing on top of him. “Fuck. Been. Been wantin’ to do that.”

“Fuck me?”

“Yeah.” Bucky reached back to stroke his arm. “Why?”

“You’re so hot. I want you every way possible.”

“Steve.”

“I know you’re married.” He sounded annoyed. “I don’t care.” He wrapped arms and legs around Bucky like a clingy octopus.

“Steve.”

“He can have you when he comes back.”

“Steve.” His dick was softening, slowly sliding out. Thank god.

“I’ll share,” Steve murmured, sleepy. “Promise.”

“Steve.” Suddenly he was sliding away, rolling Bucky over.

“You didn’t come,” he said mournfully.

“The hell I didn’t.” Tell that to the cramps he had in his legs from squirming on Steve’s hook just now.

“You didn’t ejaculate.”

“Romantic,” Bucky told him, relaxing against the pillows. But it was too late. Steve was already nuzzling his sleepy dick. “Steeeeve.”

“I want it,” he whispered.

“Steve, I’m done. Please.” Steve grumbled, climbing up the bed to snuggle up against him.

“Fine, don’t give me your come,” he muttered. “Deprive me of my bedtime snack.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “You’re sick, Rogers.”

“Nuh-uh,” Steve said, pulling Bucky closer still. “Just want all of you for myself. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“Does Monty swallow?” Steve looked up, needing to know.

“Black card.”

“Well it’s a waste of perfectly good come.”

“Black card, Steve.”

Steve grumble-whimpered, sounding like a grumpy puppy. “Well if you were mine, I’d drink your come every day.”

“Good to know.”

“Are you still drunk?” Steve looked up at him.

“Probably.”

“Better get out all the toxins…”

“Steve!” But it was too late. He was snaking down Bucky’s body again. This time, his dick responded, and Steve got the bedtime snack he’d asked for.

*

The next morning, Bucky woke to a pounding headache and the smell of bacon. “Katie?” He squinted at the bright light filtering under the curtains.

Steve walked in wearing only an apron, and Bucky remembered where he was. “That’s fucked up,” he told him.

“No way,” Steve said. “I’m not wearin’ clothes today, but I gotta protect my parts.”

“What, all day?”

“You got it.” Steve turned around, wiggling his ass at Bucky.

“Get over here.” Steve hurried over, carrying a cold glass of water and some fresh-squeezed orange juice. He turned around, dutifully.

Bucky slapped his ass until both cheeks were a dark pink.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve gasped, a tent pole now holding up the apron.

“Go back and finish breakfast,” Bucky told him, giving Steve’s rump one more slap. And he did, leaving the glasses behind for Bucky. Who was this guy? The perfect wife? It was kind of...freaky. He also couldn’t imagine having the perfect partner and leaving him in another country. But whatever.

Bucky drank the water like he’d been wandering the desert. He sipped the oj more reservedly, slowly getting his hungover ass out of bed, searching out his pants, wandering into the bathroom to freshen up a little bit. He didn’t want to drive back to the city smelling like come and booze; Bucky had no desire to return to his college days.

Hesitantly, slowly, he pulled back the curtains and let his eyes adjust. Then he was ready to wander out to the kitchen. Steve’s house was nice. Like Kate’s, the front was centered around the kitchen. Unlike Kate’s, he had a dining area adjacent to the prep island.

Steve was at one of the fancy ranges, flipping french toast. He turned when Bucky wandered in. “Hey, sweetheart. You didn’t have to get up, I was gonna bring it to you in bed.”

“I’m good,” Bucky told him, settling at the breakfast bar and sipping his juice. “You got any eggs?”

“Depends how you like ‘em,” Steve said. “We got boiled, poached, fried, scrambled, and florentine. What’s your pleasure?”

That smile. It was like the sun was shining inside the house. Bucky quickly looked away. “Oh, uh. Fried egg sandwich?”  

“Hangover cure,” Steve nodded. “You got it.” He threw two thick slices of sourdough into the pan to toast them.

“Don’t you got a toaster?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, grinning. “Toaster can’t cook the butter in, and it never stops at the right golden.”

Bucky snorted. “Showoff.”

“I’m bein’ precise here!”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You can’t sound Brooklyn when you’re talking about toasting bread in a pan.”

“Fuck you,” Steve told him, waving the spatula. “This is a cast iron griddle. What kind of cretin toasts bread in a pan?”

“I rest my case,” Bucky laughed.

“Eat some potatoes,” Steve said, shoving another plate at him. It was covered in lacework of the most perfect, crisp hash browns Bucky had ever seen.

“Jesus.” He took a bite. “These are like crack.”

“Thanks,” Steve grinned. “Try my special sauce.” He pushed a condiment dish toward Bucky with the spatula.

“Think I already did that,” Bucky smirked.

“Funny guy.” Steve shook his head.

The special sauce turned out to be homemade catsup with hot peppers. Bucky rolled his eyes, in ecstasy. “Holy crap this stuff is good.”

Steve winked at him. “I just know how you like it.”

Bucky ate his potatoes in silence. He was going to have to leave all of this behind. This ideal dream life with someone else’s husband. And he hated it. And he hated how much he hated leaving. It was wrong. So much worse than just having sex with someone else.

Soon enough, his fried egg sandwich was in front of him. Bucky dug in, and it was amazing, too. “Is there anything you do that’s not completely amazing?”

It was rhetorical, but Steve didn’t seem to take it that way. He grabbed the breakfast bar stool next to Bucky and sat down, thoughtful. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty okay at some things.”

Bucky just gave him a look. Understatement much?

“Only…” He looked down, suddenly very serious. Clenched his fingers together. “I can’t get Peggy pregnant.”

“What?” Where the hell had this conversation wandered off to?

Steve shrugged, fidgeting. “We’ve tried and tried. Been to all kinds of doctors.” He smiled sadly. “Turns out it’s me, not her.”

“You really want to have kids?”

Even though he was pushing 30, Bucky still felt like he was too young to have kids of his own. But he and Monty had discussed it. For Bucky, he had classrooms full of kids at work. He didn’t really need his own. At least, not yet. Maybe the baby bug just hadn’t bitten him yet. But for Monty, he needed an heir. Neither of them really had time for kids now, so they’d put the discussion on the back burner. But he supposed it couldn’t stay there forever.

Steve just looked sad. “I love kids. I want at least two.” He dragged fingers through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. “But honest, what else do I got to do all day? Maybe four or five kids would keep me busy.”

“Jesus.” When Steve looked back at him, questioning, Bucky asked, “Have you ever had to take care of five kids at once?”

Steve shrugged. “No. But when I used to dogsit--”

Bucky held up a hand. “Steve, I’m gonna stop you right there. Dogs aren’t children, but beyond that, you should really put yourself in front of that firing squad before you volunteer to do it every day.”

Realization slowly dawned on Steve. “Did you ever have to teach young kids?”

“Yes I did. And let me tell you, it’s hard enough dealing with a classroom full of young adults. Children? Will eat you alive.”

Steve laughed.

“I’m serious.”

But Steve just had a stupid grin on his face. “I’d love to see you teachin’ a first grade class. ‘Mr. Barnes, Mr. Barnes!’” He mimed raising his hand. “You’d be adorable.”

Bucky just shook his head. “Look, all I’m saying--as someone who professionally works with young people--is that you should start slow.”

Steve’s grin faded. “If I could have just one…”

Bucky felt like shit. This was obviously a big thing for Steve. He reached out and laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Listen…” Steve put his hand over the top of Bucky’s. “Have you really tried everything?” Didn’t in vitro help for couples having issues? Bucky didn’t know enough about fertility treatments. Those involved vaginas, which had nothing to do with him.

Steve nodded. “We been talkin’ adoption, maybe fostering first, but. Peg’s just not around enough to really get things settled and start fillin’ out paperwork.”

Bucky leaned toward him, resting his forehead against Steve’s temple. “When’s the next time she’s back?”

“A couple weeks, if I’m lucky.”

Wow, that was soon. “That’s great!” Bucky lied. “So you could theoretically get things ready ahead of time, if you wanted.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s gotta be somethin’ we decide together. It’s a big step.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Bucky was starting to feel really awkward. When had he become Steve’s therapist or cheer squad? He was going to pull away, but Steve’s other hand cupped the back of his neck, keeping their faces close.

“When you headin’ out?” It felt like a long goodbye.

Bucky shrugged. “After breakfast.”

Steve nodded, his head moving against Bucky’s hair. “One more for the road?”

Bucky laughed. “Steve, no. You did plenty enough damage last night.” In fact, he was having trouble sitting comfortably this morning.

“What, really?” Steve’s soft blue eyes were apologetic.

“Little bit,” Bucky admitted with a smirk. “But it was nice. I’m not gonna go back in time and do it over.”

Steve’s smile was a little sad. “Well, at least there’s that.”  

Bucky left after ten. He knew if he stayed until eleven, he’d be there for lunch and maybe dinner. There was no reason to make this harder than it already was.

At the door, Steve was still wearing just his apron. He tugged Bucky close and kissed him goodbye like they were in a Nicholas Sparks novel and would never see each other again.

Bucky held him but not too tight, waiting for Steve to break the kiss first. Then he turned and walked to the car without looking back. He thought if he did, it might be the end of him.

Chapter Text

The apartment in New York felt dusty. It wasn’t; the maid service had been in just last week. Maybe it was that it felt unlived-in. In spite of the heat, Bucky went to the windows and opened the ones he could, just to get some fresh air flowing through the house.

He stepped out on the fire escape for a smoke. It was bad. He’d quit so many times. But knowing just where the pack was hidden in the potted plants, being alone here with his thoughts, he couldn’t resist. There was something ritualistic about standing out on the latticed metal, feeling the stale tobacco burning the back of his throat.

He made a point of throwing the pack away as soon as he came back inside. How desperate was he to be smoking stale cigarettes?

Bucky sighed, mussing his hair in frustration. He logged into his classes online, made sure all of the students’ grades were posted. Checked and double-checked his emails. Made sure everything had been turned in on time. Now he had the rest of the summer to make any plans to his curriculum he’d want for fall, submit them to the department. He could do some research, maybe submit an article or two to peer-reviewed journals.

But right now he didn’t have the heart for any of it. He felt...strangely abandoned, which Bucky realized wasn’t fair. He was the one who had left.

He waited for the right time and skype-called his husband. Seeing Monty’s smiling face helped a lot.

“How are you, darling?”

“Back at home,” Bucky told him. “Though it feels empty without you.”

“I’m sorry, love. We’ll be done soon.”

“I know.” Bucky felt sheepish. “I just miss you is all.”

“It’s the first time you’ve been alone in days, isn’t it?” Monty knew the answer; it wasn’t really a question. Bucky nodded. “Poor lamb. It’ll be over soon.”

Then he was looking at someone off to the side. Which was odd. Monty was usually alone when they spoke. “Darling, I’ve been meaning to speak with you…” Well, that sounded ominous. “I told you I’d approach Director Carter about...our situation.”

Oh god.

“And, well--she has a counter-offer.” That sounded ominous, too. But Bucky didn’t have time to think about it. Suddenly Monty was moving to one side, and a new figure peered into the camera.

It was no woman Bucky had seen before. She had carefully-made brown hair and wore bright red lipstick. He guessed she was pretty. But a determined look on her face made Bucky apprehensive.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes,” she said in a precise accent. Middle class, if Bucky had any ear for such things by now. “My name is Margaret Carter, and it seems you’ve been sleeping with my husband.”

Bucky went white as a sheet. He didn’t even have words to respond. And if he had, no clue what the right response should be.

“You needn’t confirm; I already know. In fact, Steve’s told me everything.”

“Everything?” Bucky was horrified.

“Now, it’s true. Your husband asked just to be safe, and I appreciate that. But Steve has my permission to engage sexually with other men. You can give him something…” She looked down. Was that emotion regret? Anger? Shame?

“Something I can’t. And I understand.” Then she looked up. “But he’s become awfully fond of you.”

Bucky was both excited and full of dread at this pronouncement. Had Steve told Peggy he was in love with Bucky?

“And so I must make you a counter-offer.” She stare through the screen at Bucky, and he felt like a fish on a hook. “I’d like you to have sex with me as well.”

Bucky’s mouth went dry. Bile rose in the back of his throat. He was going to be sick; he knew it. “M-m--I don’t--” He could do nothing but stutter.

“You see, we’re trying to have a child. True, we could adopt, but there are potential drawbacks to that. And we both feel strongly about carrying on the genetic line of the other.”

“I--I could maybe donate--” Bucky didn’t even know what he was saying. Mostly right now it was just anything to keep from agreeing to have sex with this terrifying, direct woman.

“Honestly it doesn’t matter to me whom the donor is,” she said, glancing sideways at Monty in a way that made him very nervous. Her eyes pinned Bucky again. “But Steve has chosen you.” Her bright red nails tapped a staccato on the desk. “You see, he...admires you very much.”

Jesus . What a weird way to show it.

“And so I’m asking to have your child.” Now she looked awkward. “However it happens...in exchange, I’d like to offer to be a surrogate for you and Lord Falsworth. You’re naturally in more of a bind than we are.”

She folded her hands primly. “Of course you’ll want to discuss this with your husband. I just wanted to lay out the offer, so that you could think it through.” She looked up at Monty. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Bucky heard his husband’s voice off-screen.

He watched Peggy stand and move off, as someone heading for the door. When Monty returned, he just stared at him, blank.

“What do you think, darling?”

Bucky shook his head slowly. “I think it’s...weird. That’s what I think.”

From his husband’s sheepish smile, Bucky knew Monty had already made up his mind. “I think it’s well worth it for what we stand to receive,” he said. “A flesh and blood heir, with no strings attached…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. So how do you guess this is going to work?” Bucky asked him.

“Well, darling, as is evident, she’s quite an attractive woman…” Why wasn’t Monty looking at him?

“You already slept with her,” Bucky realized with horror.

Monty looked at him with soft, hurt eyes. “Of course not, my love. I should never do such a thing without consulting you first.”

“You did!” Bucky was freaking out, though he knew it was totally unfair. “You slept with her!”

“Darling, please. Do calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down! You’re trying to have a baby without me! How could you do this without asking me first?”

“Jamie--” But Bucky didn’t stop to listen, he just shut the laptop and threw himself on the bed to cry. The phone rang, and he refused to answer it. His cell rang, too. But he was too emotional to talk about it right now.

*

Bucky woke in the dark. The digital clock read 3am. He realized he’d fallen asleep with all the windows open.

Then he heard footsteps in the house. Thinking of the gun he usually kept in his bedside drawer, Bucky realized a second too late he’d put it in the safe before he’d left for Kate’s. The nearest weapon he could think of was the wooden shoe rack in his husband’s closet. He was just about to grab it when the hall light came on.

“Bucky? Are you okay?”

“Steve!” Bucky snatched up the shoe rack anyway, ready to beat him with it. “Why are you breaking into my house?” He ran out in the hall, ready to do battle.

“Whoa, whoa!” Steve put his hands up and backed away. “I came to surprise you with dinner, but you didn’t answer the door or your phone. I got worried, so I climbed the fire escape.

“From the street?!”

Steve shrugged. But Bucky shouldn’t have been surprised. He was quite an athlete. The ten foot jump to the drop ladder had probably been a breeze for him.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah.” He walked back into the bedroom and threw the shoe rack back into the closet.

“That’s not very convincing,” Steve said.

“I don’t care.” Bucky flopped back down on the bed.

“You look okay,” he observed.

“Thanks.” How did you even answer that?

“So what happened?” He came to sit down on the bed next to Bucky.

“Where did you leave the food?” he asked.

“It’s in the car,” Steve said. “You hungry?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Just curious.”

“Buck, what’s goin’ on?” He knew something was wrong.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “You talked to your wife lately?”

Steve pulled out his phone and checked it. “Yeah, why?”

“Did she tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s been sleeping with my husband?”

“What?!” At least he sounded genuinely surprised. And Steve was a terrible liar, so Bucky believed it.

“I talked to her over skype earlier. She asked me to have sex with her.”

“Oh, she did?” The bastard sounded relieved. “Good, I thought she was gonna make me ask.”

“You knew about this?!” Bucky sat up, outraged.

“Well, I mean.” Steve backed off a little. “I want it to be you.”

“Why?” Bucky was upset. This was upsetting.

“Well, because--” Steve looked like he wanted to touch him, but Bucky did not want to be touched. “I think you...have a lot of great qualities…”

“Why are you talking this over with your wife instead of with me? Don’t I get a say in this?”

Steve realized his mistake too late. “I just...I tried, but...I didn’t wanna ask you before she and I talked it over.”

“Well good job.”

Steve looked crestfallen. “You won’t do it.”

“I’m not sleeping with your wife, Steve.”

“Oh. Well, you don’t have to. We got this great fertility doctor…”

Bucky shook his head. “What the fuck is going on, Steve? Why is she asking to sleep with me, then? Why is she coming on to my husband?”

“Now wait just a goddamn minute. My wife is not that kinda gal.”

Bucky shook his head. “Your wife has a girlfriend that she loves, Steve. That she spends more time with than she spends with you.”

“Look. I know you’re upset.” Steve took a deep breath. “Please don’t judge us. We have things arranged in a way that works for us.”

Bucky glared at him. “Who gets the baby, Steve? You or Dottie?”

Steve looked stricken. “Well, me of course.”

“And are you allowed to be in the same country as your wife? Or is she just gonna not see your kid except a couple times a year?”

“That’s not fair, Buck.” But he could tell Steve hadn’t even thought of it, and that made him sad.

“Hey, this is gonna be my kid, too. I think I have the right to ask.”

Steve’s expression softened. “You...you wanna see the kid?”

Bucky shrugged, uncomfortable. This was all theoretical, because no way was he agreeing to it. “I don’t...this feels weird, Steve. It feels wrong.” Even before Peggy had asked him to do it the old-fashioned way.

Steve reached out, gently touching his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Buck. I shoulda talked to you about it first.”

Bucky shrugged his hand off. “You’re damn right, you should have.”

“I just want a baby so bad.” He looked so depressed staring down at the floor.

Bucky knew he was telling the truth. But how much of that was being all alone in that big house? Seeing his wife only a couple times a year? Steve would make a good dad, he was pretty sure, but was that the right reason to have a baby? Bucky realized it wasn’t up to him to judge.

“I--I’m sorry, I really need to find out if they’re doing it.”

“Why?” Steve looked at him, curious. “We did it.”

“That was with permission!” Bucky was almost shouting.

“Not that first time,” Steve pointed out.

“That was just a kiss!” and he’d felt really guilty about it.

Steve shrugged. “My hand was in your pants and you asked me to fuck you.”

“But we didn’t!” Steve didn’t look convinced. “What, you think he’s getting back at me?”

“No,” Steve said firmly. “Because Peggy wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t have permission.” He seemed so convinced.

“Neither does Monty.” But maybe it was only fair. Bucky just couldn’t stomach the idea of his husband on top of a woman. It pissed him off. He knew Monty had been with women in the past. Jut not since they’d started dating.

He rested his head in his hands, feeling terrible. For being a hypocrite, and thinking of the two of them together.

“Hey.” Steve put an arm around him. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”

“How can you say that?” Bucky asked angrily. “My husband is thinking of having sex with your wife!”

“Look, I’m not crazy about it either,” Steve answered calmly, “But I kinda fucked him already, so it’s kinda fair.”

“You blew him,” Bucky clarified. “While I fucked you.”

“Okay, so maybe he eats her while I fuck her.”

Bucky made a face. “Steve.”

“But honest, the point is for him to come inside her. I mean, for baby-making. So maybe it should be the other--”

“Steve!”

He stopped to finally look at Bucky. “Oh, you don’t want that.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Well.” Steve shrugged. “I guess that leaves us one option.”

“Which is?”

“You do her while we do you.”

Bucky scowled. “That is not the other option.”

“Oh, you meant artificial insemination.”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, it’s not as fun…”

“Steve!”

“Okay, okay.” He paused for a few seconds. “Does that mean your answer is yes?”

How had they gotten to this point? “It means...I wanna talk to my husband first, before I agree to go donating my swimmers.”

Steve nodded. “Makes sense to me.” Another pause. “You hungry yet?”

Bucky sighed. “Well I’m sure as fuck not sleeping anytime soon.”

Steve’s phone went off. He glanced at it. “It’s Peg.”

Bucky pushed himself off the bed and walked away. He didn’t want to hear any more right now. Bucky walked to the bathroom to take a leak. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when Steve appeared in the doorway during.

“What the fuck do you want?” The look on Steve’s face made him immediately regret it. Bucky finished up, grumpy, and moved to the sink to wash his hands.

“Buck…” He looked so lost. “You want me to leave?”

He sagged against the sink. “No.” Being alone with this could only be worse. “Sorry. Sorry I took it out on you.”

Steve, in typical Steve fashion, walked up behind him and gently put his arms around Bucky. “I’m sorry you found out the way you did. It’s my fault. I shoulda asked you sooner.”

“Is this what you meant?” Bucky looked back at him. “When you said you knew I was the one?”

Steve blushed, stepping back so Bucky could turn around. “No…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”

Bucky folded his arms, waiting.

“I meant...the one to fuck me.” He looked awkward for a moment. “And you were. You were, Buck.” He tentatively reached out for Bucky’s hand. “You’re the only guy for me, Buck.”

He returned an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

Steve blushed a deeper shade of pink. “You’re the one I really want. Like, in my heart.”

“But your dick has other ideas?”

He shrugged. “Honest, I just thought your husband might be less...pissed if I offered to do him, too.”

“But you didn’t really want to?” This was news to Bucky.

Steve nodded, awkward.

“You big dummy.” Bucky stepped forward to wrap his arms around Steve. “You shouldn’t do stuff you don’t want.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a trade, right? I had you, so...it should be fair.”

“Fuck fair!” Bucky spat. “Since when are feelings fair?”

Steve began to relax against him. “Honest, you’re all I want.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to feel awkward. “You mean as far as guys go?”

Steve shrugged. “I love Peggy. I do.” He continued, more quietly, “Sometimes I think our lives have just gone different roads. We still love each other, but we’re not…”

“Jesus, Steve. How can you plan to have kids with someone you think you’ve grown apart from? That’s the worst--”

“It’d be your kid,” Steve interrupted. “That’s how. It’d be your kid, Buck. And Peggy’s. The two people I love the most.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “You’re the worst.” But he didn’t let go of Steve, just buried his face in Steve’s shoulder.

Steve’s hold tightened a little. “I’m sorry, Buck. I can’t help it, just. The way I feel about you...I can’t help it.”

“You don’t even know me.” Said the guy who was clinging to him in his home bathroom.

“That don’t matter.” He started to comb fingers through the hair at the back of Bucky’s neck.

“Why?” Bucky needed to understand it. Why he was even considering donating sperm to the wife of this man he’d only known for a month?

“Cause love is love.” He seemed so certain. Bucky wished he could be that certain, about anything.

Bucky took his hand. “Can you really be in love with two people at once?”  

Steve shrugged. “I am. So I guess yes?”

That scared Bucky. It scared him to think he could love anyone else besides Monty. Did that devalue his love for his husband in a way? Was one of the loves false? He certainly felt something for Steve. But as far as he was concerned, it was just friendship. Friendship and a healthy dose of lust.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Steve wanted to know.

“I’m just trying to understand.” He wasn’t sure he ever would, but it made him feel better to hold onto Steve.

“Come on,” Steve said. “Let’s go have a seat, maybe put some food in that sour belly.”

“Hey!” Bucky pinched him. “How do you know my belly is sour?”

Steve chuckled. “Come on, grumpy kid.” He led him by the hand back out to the sitting room. “You want me to make you somethin’ fresh? Or I could grab the food from the car…”

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, sitting and leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. “You spent time on that food. Why don’t you go get it?”

Steve returned a dubious look. “You’re still gonna be here when I come back, right?”

Bucky snorted and made as if to kick him.

“Okay, okaaaay.”

When he left, Bucky got up and found his phone. So many messages and voicemails from his poor husband. If he’d been thinking of having an affair with Peggy, ignoring him was a sure way to drive him into her arms.

“Genius, Jamie, you giant asshole.” He sighed and typed out a text without reading any of the messages.

Sorry I overreacted. I guess I needed some time to think it over. Love you.

Monty’s message came back before Steve got back up the stairs.

I love you, my angel. This was my fault. It grieves me to upset you so. Please accept my apology? I handled this badly.

For some reason, his reply made Bucky cry. Was he the kind of high-maintenance, demanding spouse that he made his husband bend over backwards groveling when he got upset?

“Hey. What’s goin’ on?” Steve set the picnic basket down and came over to wrap an arm around Bucky.

“I’m an asshole,” he wept.

“Aww, no you’re not,” Steve reassured him. “You just don’t want your husband fuckin’ anybody else. I get that. Me and Peggy aren’t normal.”

“But I did it,” Bucky says. “So I have no right.”

“Okay, I want you to do me a favor,” Steve said. “Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Bucky looked up at him, uncertain.

“Just turn your brain off for a minute, okay? Try it.”

Bucky laughed. Wouldn’t that be nice?

“Come on. Lie down. Let’s try this.” He towed Bucky into the master bedroom.

Bucky lay down on his stomach, stretched out. “Just try to relax,” Steve told him, and started to give one of those deep body massages that had gotten them into trouble before.

Bucky sighed. “Oh god.”

“Better?”

He nodded. And Steve kept going until Bucky was almost asleep. Then he felt a throw blanket settle over his back, and Steve moved off.

Unfortunately, Bucky started to get those needles in his brain again as soon as Steve stepped away. At 30 minutes, he cracked his eye open to find Steve napping in a chair close by.

“Steve.”

Steve blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“Get over here.” He was like the most obedient dog, and again Bucky felt like a monster. “Lie down with me?”

Steve quickly stretched out on top of him. “You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Bucky chuckled. “Hey. Hey.”

“What?” Steve was trying to get comfortable without squishing him.

“Is that a banana in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

“So happy.” Steve began nibbling his earlobe, gently humping him.

It made Bucky giggle. “Jesus. Are you ever not horny?”

“Not when you’re around.” Now he was groping Bucky’s ass, groaning.

And he realized, there was a very easy way to keep from thinking. Bucky started to push his pants off. “Wait, for real?” Steve asked.

Bucky answered his question by shoving down Steve’s pants and pulling his cock between his thighs. He was answered by a needy whimper and some desperate thrusting.

They got stains on the mattress, but it was fun, and Bucky didn’t think about Peggy having sex with Monty or donating sperm toward anyone else’s baby for at least an hour.

Then they slept.

When Bucky woke, things looked less bleak. And Steve’s weight next to him was a comforting presence. He slid out of bed to grab a shower.

What was the next step? Go to the UK? Have a skype meeting? Pretend none of this had ever happened?

The latter was his favorite option. Bucky wanted little more than to spend the rest of his summer here in New York, maybe with Steve, maybe with just occasional visits from Steve. But he absolutely did not want to think anymore about kids.

Chapter Text

When Steve woke up, he wandered out to the kitchen where Bucky was cleaning out the fridge by juicing anything remotely juiceable.

“Sorry. Did the machine wake you up?”

Steve shrugged. “I dun mind.” He slouched around the counter to drape his arms around Bucky and lean on him, drowsing.

Bucky snickered. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I can bring you something.”  

“Don’t wanna go back to bed,” Steve whined. “Wanna stay here with you.”

“Fine.” Bucky walked them over to the couch, where he plopped Steve down and brought over the juice he’d juiced so far in two glasses. Then he turned on the BBC news so that they could catch up on current events without the partisan politics that plagued U.S. cable news.

Steve fell back to sleep quickly, and Bucky was happy to just use him as a pillow. His juice turned out to be questionable, but Bucky drank almost half of it before he decided to give up.

Once he’d had his fill of news, he turned off the TV and just relaxed, listening to the sounds of traffic down on the street. It was a comforting white noise of the city he’d come to know as a child. Steve didn’t seem troubled by it either, sleeping like a log in spite of Bucky leaning on him and shifting around.

He let Steve sleep and just continued his day like he normally would, grabbing his laptop and a cup of coffee. Doing a little research, he checked the hours of the archives and museums he wanted to take a look through and tried to think of what he should do tomorrow.

Around noon he curled up with Steve for a nap, and woke to the smell of frying bacon. “Steve?” he sat up. Steve was moving around the kitchen like he knew where everything was.

“I feel like casserole’s too heavy for lunch, don’t you?”

He slid a sandwich onto the counter and Bucky got up to investigate. “A club sandwich?”

“You got it,” Steve smiled. “You just barely had ingredients, but we should probably go grocery shopping tonight or tomorrow.”

“We should?” It wasn’t the shopping but the ‘we’ that gave Bucky pause.

“Sure,” Steve tried to act casual. “I figure I’ll be staying with you for at least a few days in the city.” He glanced back nervously. “Right?” And started scrubbing the oven rack like he was the maid.

Bucky just looked at him, slowly relaxing. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

He actually wasn’t sure it was, but he realized it was what he wanted: just a lazy summer at home with Steve.

At least, until Monty got back.

Maybe even after. Bucky tried to imagine what that would be like. He couldn’t; he just kept envisioning himself palling around New York with Steve.

“How do you feel about museums?” Bucky asked suddenly.

“Considering my degree’s in Art? Pretty excited, actually.” Steve stopped scrubbing to look up.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“No?” Now he looked self-conscious. “Is that weird?”

“No! I just don’t understand why you’re so perfect!”

A sly grin quirked Steve’s lips. “Only someone who’s perfect would think that.”

Bucky grunted and bit into his sandwich, cut along the diagonal, just how he liked it. “Oh my god!” His eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Too much pepper?” Steve asked, concerned.

“Mmm, no. It’s perfect.”

Steve walked over to the counter, leaning on the marble surface across from him. “Then why don’t you marry it?”

Bucky’s eyes opened. “Hah hah.”

But it made his stomach flip-flop. The more perfect Steve revealed himself to be, the more scared he got.

What would have happened if he’d met Steve before he’d met Monty? How would his life have been different? Would they be crammed together in a railroad apartment in Greenpoint? Their apartment too close to the train so that the whole place shook every time an express passed? And why did that thought appeal more than it repulsed him?

“What’s wrong?” Steve had an uncanny way of seeing what was going on in his head.

“Nothing,” Bucky said, looking down.

*

The next day they went to the museum. The Brooklyn Historical Society. Steve seemed fine with it. He stopped to peer at anything remotely visual art while Bucky descended into the archives and went through old documents. Afterwards, they grabbed a late lunch at Le Pain Quotidien before just walking around Brooklyn Heights, holding hands like a couple of assholes.

On some level, Bucky realized it was wrong, but he also really wanted to do it. Walking next to Steve and not touching him gave him inordinate anxiety. Doing something wrong was actually preferable to that feeling.

The next day, they hit another museum, and then another. Finally, after a full week of history museums, Bucky decided to give Steve a break and they hit the Cloisters, which was a combination of both. They palled around the gardens and sat inside cloisters together and napped a little. The security guards knew him, and didn’t say anything. It was also a fairly quiet Thursday.

On the way down from the park, they hit Sylvia’s and walked home through Harlem. It was a hike, but not an unpleasant one. After the second time they got called fags, Bucky let go of Steve, but they continued on. It was just one part of Manhattan versus another. Not every place was as tolerant as Chelsea or the Village.

Once they were back on Park, they stopped for coffee in a small cafe full of antique furniture. Steve plucked one of the books off of the shelves set out for customers. Bucky went over his notes on his tablet. It felt comfortable. The whole week felt comfortable.

Too comfortable. Like Steve and he had been friends for years. Friends who came home after a long day out in the city and fucked like teenagers.

It was a crazy life. Bucky couldn’t believe it was real. But he also refused to give it up any sooner than he had to.

*

After two straight weeks of bliss, the spell was broken with a single phone call. “Hello, my love,” Monty said.

“Hi, Honey,” Bucky was leaning back on the couch while Steve rubbed his feet. They’d walked a little too far today.

“I’ll be flying out this evening. I hope you’re ready for me.”

“I’m always ready for you,” Bucky smiled, but inside his heart was falling like a stone. “Hey, just so’s there’s no surprises…”

“Ah, the Captain is there?” He already knew.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding at Steve.  

“Well that’s alright, darling. He’s welcome to stay as our guest, if he wishes, although I think he may be a bit busy himself, soon.”

Bucky looked at Steve. “Peggy’s coming back?”

Steve sat up straight, like a bird dog sensing prey in the bushes.

“I’m sure I don’t know a thing about that.”

“Riiiiiiight.” Now Bucky was nervous. If Peggy came state-side, would the awkward conversation be reopened? He wasn’t sure he could really handle that.

“We’re scheduled to arrive at 0800 hours tomorrow. Should I take a cab?”

“No, of course not,” Bucky told him. “I’ll be there to get you.”

“Very well. Until tomorrow, darling. I must pack, or I know I shall forget half the gifts I’ve bought for you.”

“You know you don’t have to do that,” Bucky told him for the umpteenth time.

“Now, darling, no arguments. You promised.”

Bucky sighed. “You’re right.”

“I love you madly, my darling. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Hardly, but I adore you for saying so.” He kissed the receiver and hung up.

Bucky put the phone down and just stared at Steve. “What?”

“Help me clean up?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “You want me to go back to Connecticut tonight?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “He said you’re welcome here as our guest.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Like...guest?”

Bucky shrugged. “I have no idea. But please don’t make me sleep alone tonight. My nerves are already fried.”

Steve reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Do you need to get things ready in case Peggy comes home?”

“Aw, nah,” Steve said. “I straightened up before I came out to the city.

“What if she goes home first and finds you gone?” Bucky asked.

“Buck, my wife’s the director of MI6. She knows damn well where I am.”

“Oh.” Bucky swallowed. “Well...great.”

Steve squeezed his hand again, rubbing his thumb across Bucky’s knuckles, trying to be reassuring.

They spent the rest of the day cleaning up and doing laundry. It was nice having someone to help him fold sheets--Bucky always felt bad asking Monty to help with the domestic stuff--and Steve had such nice, long arms. When it was done, they ordered in: Chinese, and watched black and white horror movies. They fell asleep on the couch together, limbs entangled.

The alarm woke Bucky about 5am. He jerked awake with a start, having been dreaming that Steve was going off to war without him. Speaking of Steve, he was mysteriously absent. When Bucky looked for him, all he found was a note apologizing that he had had to leave suddenly. That could only mean one thing as far as Bucky was concerned.

He’d left breakfast for Bucky on the stove: scratch-made cornbread and salsa with an heirloom tomato and spinach frittata. He ate it, feeling like his belly was full of lead. 

Bucky took a quick shower and picked up flowers from the grocery downstairs on his way to the car. He got to the airport early and stood outside the line at customs, waiting with everyone else who was expecting family from overseas. He talked to an Iranian lady who was so proud of her granddaughter for winning a scholarship to Johns-Hopkins. There was the guy from Uruguay whose wife was returning from a stint with Doctors Without Borders in West Africa. And little kids who were waiting to meet their Korean cousins for the first time. Something about the family’s story made him think at least one of the cousins might have been smuggled out of North Korea. They were all sweet people, but the longer Bucky waited, the more anxious he got about this whole baby thing.

Steve had been like a wet blanket on his anxiety, keeping the flames low for the last two weeks, but now the embers were starting to flare up again. He excused himself from the crowd to use the restroom. On his way back, Bucky bought a newspaper from one of the outrageously overpriced newsstands and a $5 bag of honey roasted peanuts that would have cost $3 from any street vendor in Manhattan, fresh.

“I beg your pardon.” Someone with a British accent tugged his elbow. Bucky was slow to respond, because it was a woman’s voice. He turned to find himself face to face with one Margaret Carter.

He blinked, stunned. Terrified. The woman stood all of five foot eight in her six inch heels, and yet she was hands-down one of the most intimidating people he’d ever met. She was definitely pretty, Bucky could see that in person. But he had no idea what to say. Or to expect. Was she going to clock him? Jump his bones? Either seemed likely right now.

“Y-yes?” he said, too late.

“Have you seen my husband?” Was that supposed to be a joke?

“Um. Like, recently?” Bucky screamed like a college co-ed in a slasher film when he was suddenly grabbed from behind with the force of a freight train and lifted off his feet.

“I did try to warn you,” she said drily, as Bucky struggled, recognizing the arms around him as Steve’s.

Peggy seemed to think the whole thing was very funny, smirking into her phone as she checked her messages...or was it her reflection in the camera?

“Steve, you asshole!” Bucky grumbled. “Put me down!”

“Okay, okay.”

Finding himself back on his feet, Bucky turned and started to hit Steve with the newspaper. “Bad, Steve! Shame on you!” Which just made Steve laugh and his wife raise an eyebrow.

“I say, are you two trying to abscond with my spouse?”

Bucky turned and flung himself at Monty. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I was waiting and waiting. I swear, I just left customs for a minute.”

“There, there, darling, that’s quite alright.”

Bucky kissed him and pressed the bouquet of flowers into his hands, taking his bags.  

Peggy stared at Steve, her eyes cold. “Where are my flowers, Captain Rogers?”

“What? Oh, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Guess I’m not as good a husband as old Buck here.”

“I still haven’t got used to that nickname.” Monty shook his head, taking Bucky’s elbow because his hands were full.

“Well, then.” Peggy stepped forward and took Bucky’s other elbow, leaving Steve with her bags.

“Hey!”

“Shall we, Mr. Barnes?”

“Um…” Bucky was trying not to choke on his anxiety. “Sure.” Peggy and Monty both chuckled, which was simultaneously adorable and terrifying.

“Hey, wait for me!” Steve called, as they headed for the escalator.

The way things were going, Bucky half-expected the night to end in a double date at the Rainbow Room. But it turned out Monty didn’t have the energy for black tie after having flown all day. So they ended up at Nobu instead.

“My angel simply adores sushi,” Monty was telling Steve and Peggy in the lobby.

“He does?” Steve looked surprised, and why wouldn’t he? Bucky had never eaten much besides Steve’s home cooking when they were together.

“Well, it seems we have more than one thing in common,” Peggy observed with a strange look in her eye.

Wait. Was she talking about--? Bucky suddenly felt queasy.

Steve grabbed his shoulder to steady him, having seen something was amiss. “You okay, honey?”

Three heads whipped around to stare at him, Bucky in a panic, Monty curious, and Peggy with slightly-narrowed eyes. “Uh...Bucky? I meant Bucky.” But it was too late.

At dinner, Bucky made sure to sit on the opposite side of the table, across from Peggy, not Steve. The two English people kept the conversation going, but Bucky was uneasy and Steve joined in the conversation only seldom, casting Bucky worried looks.

They’d just ordered dessert when Monty asked the dreaded question. “Where will the two of you be staying for your time in New York? Surely you won’t flee the bright lights of the city for the country quite yet.” Steve and Peggy exchanged a look.

“No, I don’t think we shall.” Peggy shrugged, arranging her chopsticks carefully. “Of course the firm has several apartments where we might stay. And we often take a room at the Plaza…”

“Nonsense,” Monty said. “I insist you stay with us. We’ve got a lovely guest room and three baths. Plenty of room for both of you to stay as long as you wish.”

Bucky’s hair was standing on end. He wasn’t sure what to make of this.

“Aw, Monty, we couldn’t--” Steve began.

“We should be delighted,” Peggy cut him off with a smile. “Thank you, James.”

“Please, Peggy, call me Monty.”

Bucky just stared at him as his husband leaned one elbow on the table and played James Bond for Steve’s wife. Then he glanced at Steve, who just shrugged. He didn’t seem concerned.

“Very well, Monty.” Peggy’s smile warmed several degrees. “Now who’s going to share my green tea ice cream with me? I can’t possibly shoulder all of those calories alone.” They all agreed to have a spoonful, though after the fact, Bucky felt weirdly gangbang about it, and passed his portion on to Monty.

Thankfully, once they got home, Steve and Peggy went straight to their room. Feeling drained, Bucky headed to bed, too, but not before a hot bath. He had his earbuds in while he was soaking, so he didn’t realize what was going on until he walked into the bedroom and saw his tortured husband lying face-down on the bed. “What’s--” But his question was interrupted by Steve’s loud, moose-like groans, and a steady knocking coming from the wall of the guest bedroom. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yes, they er...seem to have missed one another.”

Bucky sighed, sitting down next to his husband, who had that longsuffering look of pent up sexual frustration in his eyes. “You want...help?”

“Turn out the lights?”

Bucky nodded, getting up to make the room dark. A performance artist his husband was not. When he slid back into bed, Monty moved close, arms winding around Bucky, pressing against him urgently. Bucky kissed him sweetly while he jerked him off, helping him get out the initial frustration caused by Steve and Peggy fucking thunderously down the hall. It was even making Bucky a little hard, but maybe that was because he’d been hearing those noises from Steve in a different context for the past few weeks.

“You next, darling?” Monty asked, after Bucky had cleaned him up.

“I’m tired, honey,” Bucky told him. Because he was. It had been a long day. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, my love.” Monty pulled him close. “I just shouldn’t like you to think I was being selfish.”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “Never.”

*

The next morning, Bucky was the last person to wake up. Everyone else was in the kitchen, Steve cooking and the other two enjoying the fruits of his labor. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Steve greeted him with a smile.

“Morning.” Bucky glared at Steve, wanting to say more, but remaining polite for the other two.

“So what have you planned for today?” Monty asked Steve and Peggy.

She looked at Steve.

Steve looked at her. “Well, I thought maybe we’d hit MOMA--” Steve began.

“To be honest, I’d like to become pregnant as soon as possible.”

Bucky spit his coffee straight across the room and began to cough. “Oh dear.” How was she so calm about this?

Steve left his pancakes on the griddle and ran over to make sure Bucky was okay.

“It seems that some discussion is in order.” Monty frowned, looking at Bucky struggling to breathe. “Perhaps...over tea, this afternoon?” He thought Bucky could do with some time to recover.

“Yes. I think that will do.” Peggy finished her tea and left to get dressed.

“Jeez, I’m sorry about that,” Steve apologized after she’d left. “Peggy, she’s kind of--direct.”

“Direct!?” Bucky was still having a panic attack.

“Come along, darling,” Monty said, rising from his seat. “Let’s go out for a bit of fresh air.”

“Direct?!” Bucky was still asking as Monty towed him out the front door.

“Don’t worry about us,” he called back to Steve. “Should you need to leave before we return, simply close the door behind you.”

Steve nodded, looking thoughtful. He found Peggy in the guest bedroom, pulling on her stockings. “You could go a little bit easier on him, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Steve,” she told him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, I’m just not sure it’s the best way to handle it.”

She paused, garters clips dangling loose against her bare thigh. “And what would you propose?”

“First of all,” Steve’s eyes hadn’t strayed an inch. “That you sit on my face. And then, just let me talk to Bucky. Give him some time.”

She finished fastening her stockings. “It seems to me he’s had quite a bit of time already.”

Steve walked over to the bed and lay down. “He’s had barely a couple of weeks. You don’t know what he’s like.”

“Clearly,” she said, lifting her skirt to straddle his face. And that was the end of the discussion for some time.

*

“I can’t do this, Monty. I can’t.” Bucky was panting as if they’d been jogging as they passed the first block down from the apartment building.

“Then you don’t have to, my love,” Monty promised.

“Are you sure?” Bucky glanced sideways at him. “You won’t hold it against me forever if we end up having to adopt?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Monty smiled indulgently. “We don’t have to have children at all if you don’t wish to.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing his forehead. “But you do want it...right?”

“It would be lovely having a true blood heir,” Monty said. “But it’s not necessary. Not...precisely.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asked. Oh god, it was some Pride and Prejudice bullshit, wasn’t it?

“Well, I suppose the estate can simply go to the cousins…”

“STOP right there,” Bucky said, and they both stopped walking. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

His husband shrugged, uncomfortable. “It wasn’t an issue yet, darling. We still have time to find a surrogate…”

“Okay, but I need to know this, honey. Sweetheart. You need to tell me, ‘hey, Jamie, I need a blood heir, or the deal is off.’”

“That’s not precisely true,” Monty said. “I believe we could legitimately pursue a legal case…”

“Honey. Stop.” Bucky took his hands. “This makes a difference. Now we have to.”

Monty frowned. “You mustn’t do anything you don’t wish to do, my love. Of that, I am 100% certain.”

Bucky kissed him. “Don’t be ridiculous.” It was easy enough to ask the other couple who their fertility doctor was, leave a specimen. He could do this, Bucky told himself. He could do this.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t do this. Bucky wasn’t sure exactly how they’d gotten here, but watching the tangle of bodies on their oversized guest bed, it was hard to deny that they were here.

Monty was watching Peggy hungrily as she began to disrobe. It was fine, he told himself. Monty missed this when he was with Bucky--he had to, right? Loving someone and having them fulfill all of your needs weren’t the same thing. He could admit that, after having spent the last month with Steve.

Between them, Steve sat with his dick already out and ready. But it was Monty’s hand that stroked it. Not Peggy’s.

All of a sudden, it was just too much for Bucky. He turned to go.

“Buck.” Steve’s growl froze him in his tracks. “C’mere.”

Bucky couldn’t turn around. “Uh, no thanks, Steve. I think I’ll sit this one out.”

He made the mistake of looking back. Steve was alone at the edge of the bed, his eyes pleading with Bucky. Behind him, Monty was slowly burying his face in Peggy’s cleavage, opening her blouse one button at a time. She clung to him, apparently fine with this.

Bucky turned away again, wishing he hadn’t looked. “Buck, please.”

“I’ll be in the living room, Stevie,” he said, turning and wandering down the hall.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve caught up with him while he was still in the hall, gently grabbing him and pulling him back to lean against the wall. “What’s wrong?”

It was an odd juxtaposition of things. Steve looked mournful, but he was also horny. “This ain’t easy for me either, you know, “ Steve said. “Knowing some other guy has to knock up my wife. That I’m not man enough--”

“You stop right there. What a stupid way to judge the worth of a person.” Now Bucky was angry. “How do you even know it’s you? Maybe this whole thing is for nothing.”

“It’s me,” Steve said sadly. “We went through so many tests…”

“Oh.” Bucky really wanted to argue on his behalf, though. “Well, that doesn’t mean Monty will be any better. Or me,” he added, before Steve could protest.

“We’ll go to the doctor,” Steve said. “For you, we’ll make an appointment and see.”

“Maybe we won’t have to,” Bucky said, taking Steve’s hand. He glanced back at the guest bedroom. Left to their own devices, Monty and Peggy might just…

Bucky shrugged and headed back to the living room. His suggestion seemed to have depressed Steve, who followed him. They ended up curled together on the couch, kissing and holding one another for the rest of the night.

*

When half of their party left, Peggy pulled away, quickly losing interest in Monty, who was more slow to respond to their absence. “It seems tonight won’t be the night after all.” She bid Lord Falsworth good night and went to take a hot shower alone.

Monty left to see what the trouble was and found Steve and Jamie curled together on the couch. It seemed rather platonic, and so he left them to their devices, pleasuring himself before falling asleep in the master bedroom. It had been a long time since he’d touched a woman.

*

When Steve still wasn’t in bed after she’d done her shower, Peggy wondered. Whose idea had it been to leave the guest bedroom? Was Steven comforting his precious Bucky, or had they merely chosen to continue alone? She sighed and went looking for him.

Peggy found him asleep on the couch with Jamie, both of them looking rather miserable. Shaking her head, she went to the kitchen to get something to drink. Steve slept like a log, and it was hard to say just how she was going to manage to actually wake him, separate him from his real life teddy bear and bring him to bed. Was it worth it?

Considering he was hogging the man who’d been designated to get her pregnant? Yes.

Peggy slipped onto the couch by their feet, slowly moving up on the couch, sliding in close to their intertwined bodies, ever so slowly.

Jamie woke first. He knew someone he wasn’t used to was touching him. He lay there in the dark with his eyes open, waiting for them to adjust.

“Mr. Barnes,” Peggy identified herself politely, pressing up against his chest, her silk robe not covering much.

She watched him startle. “Miss...Director Carter?”

If he wanted to pull away, he had a problem as Steve was right behind him. He didn’t make much of a move at all, however.

Encouraged, she slid one hand up to his shoulder, as if they were dancing.

“I don’t...I’m sorry, I just feel kind of lost in all this.” He seemed strangely comfortable lying here with her. Perhaps he’d had similar late night chats with his sisters. He had two of them, according to the dossier.

“You weren’t told the right way,” she said. “It was bad planning.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure I ever would have been ready for that news.”

“ Touche . But you and Monty must have talked of having children?”

“We have. It’s just...always something in our future. I never expected it to just. Happen one day.”

“Well, your biological timer is a bit more forgiving than mine.”

He looked guilty. “Yeah. Kate--my eldest sister--she goes back and forth on whether to have another one before it’s too late. But she’s real busy with work--not as much as you, I guess, but. It makes things hard.”

“Indeed it does.” How businesslike this talk was as they lay here together, almost naked.

“You’re lucky you have Steve.” At first, she wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “Kate’s alone. Well, she’s got me. But there’s no one to help her with a baby full time if she wanted to have another one.”

“Ah. Yes. Though a woman can do perfectly fine without a man.”

He wanted to say a few things to that. Considering she had a lesbian lover back in the UK. “It’s easier with a partner, though,” he said. “For everyone.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Peggy adjusted her body against his, gently fitting her curves against his edges.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly. Not panicked...quite. But curious. A little nervous.

“Do you want to touch me?” she asked. “If you don’t, I’m not offended.”

“You’re already touching me,” Bucky pointed out.

“Do you mind it?” She was curious. He’d looked so disgusted earlier.

“No,” he said. “It’s fine.” She leaned down to rest her head against his arm. Perhaps if he got used to her, this would be easier. He reached up with his other hand and stroked her hair. It was a very fraternal gesture, but it was something.

“Big as your seating group is…” she began softly. “Do you think we might move to the bed?” They hardly fit as it was. Definitely not comfortable.

“I should let the two of you get some rest,” he said. Then Steve’s arm began to move over his shoulder, clutching him closer, wrapping around him like a boa constrictor.

“I suppose we might do that,” she said, knowing what Steve wanted even before the surprised look on Bucky’s face proved there was a large erection poking him in the back.

*

“Buck,” he murmured, kissing Bucky’s shoulder.

“Steve!” he hissed. “Peggy’s here.” But if he was expecting contrition from Steve, he’d thought wrong.

Steve merely peered over his shoulder at her with sly eyes. “Hey, doll. You come to play with the big boys?”

Had he meant to insult Bucky’s husband? Probably. Bucky sighed.

“One in particular,” she smirked up at him.

“Aw, babe.” Steve sure was ready. Bucky just wasn’t sure why he was jabbing him in the back with his dick if it was his wife he wanted.

Steve reached around Bucky to tug her robe open, revealing bare breasts that were...large. Bucky quickly looked away. “Why don’t you take that off?” he growled, grinding against Bucky’s back.

“Why don’t you let me slip out of here so that the two of you can--”

Peggy put her other hand on Bucky’s chest, and Steve’s arm snaked out to grab her and yank her close.

“--um…” Bucky wasn’t really sure what to do. Peggy had been right. He hadn’t minded her curled against him, though he couldn’t say why. And Steve behind him was always nice. But what was happening here? Just how did they think this was going to work?

For starters, they both leaned past him, their lips meeting over his shoulder. As they kissed, Steve pushed Peggy’s robe off her shoulders, then tugged it away all together, tossing it onto the floor. Bucky wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel.

Weirded out was how he did feel. Then Steve’s pants were off, and he was pushing his long dick between Bucky’s legs, the tip poking out the other side. Peggy reached down and caressed it, her fingers sliding against Bucky’s thighs, touching his groin, too, in the process.

“Ohhh yeah. Peggy. Give me those beautiful tits.” He reached out and groped one, the soft pillow almost disappearing into his meaty hand.

Peggy began to rub against him. “Steve…” She was still rubbing the head of his dick between Bucky’s legs. Steve was thrusting and straining toward her, one hand on Bucky’s hip, the other on her breast.

He was quite literally caught between them. They continued to kiss, both grinding against him from opposite sides. Steve’s hard body behind him, the stimulation in his groin, was making Bucky aroused. Confused, but a little aroused. Peggy’s fingers moved to his groin, stroking him until he was stiff. Bucky tried to concentrate on Steve behind him. He closed his eyes. “Steve…”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve started to suck his neck.

“Steve.” It was suddenly easier to concentrate, because Peggy had moved. Bucky wasn’t sure where to until he felt the pressure at his thighs. She bent forward and noisily sucked the tip of Steve’s dick, still thrust between Bucky’s thighs. Steve reached into Bucky’s pants and gripped his stiff length, jerking him off.

“Oh, god, Peggy.” Steve moaned for all he was worth.

“Steve, are you sure you don’t want me to--”

“I want you,” Steve breathed. “Want you, Bucky.”

“But Steve, I--” His other hand now free, Steve slid it down the back of his pants, fingering his ass.  

“Steve!”

“Fuck, yeah, Bucky. Nnnn…” He glanced down. “Peg, stop. I wanna fuck.”

Bucky had no idea whom he meant.

“Alright,” she said blithely, as though they were simply talking about a game of chess.

Before he knew it, Steve was jerking his pants down, scissoring his fingers, trying to open Bucky up.

“Whoa, I cannot do this without lube.” Wait, was he really considering this? Peggy disappeared again, and he had a bad feeling. “Steve?” Bucky turned to glance back at him.

“Yeah, baby?” he was pressing sloppy kisses to the back of Bucky’s neck.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re thinking too much, Buck.” He kissed his jaw. “Is it okay if I fuck you?”

“In front of your wife?”

“In back of my wife,” Steve corrected. He sighed. “If it was safe, I’d fuck both of you at once, but...it’s not.”

Bucky was still trying to wrap his brain around ‘both of them at once’ when Peggy returned, and Steve’s fingers pushing inside him were now slick. Bucky whimpered. “Steve…” When had he come to want that giant lumber inside him?

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve breathed. He spread his cheeks and nudged the tip against Bucky’s entrance.

“Fuck you and your giant dick,” he gasped.

Steve chuckled. He started to nudge his way in, gasping and groaning. And suddenly there was something warm and wet on Bucky’s groin. It was Peggy, matter of factly sucking his dick. Bucky shivered. He was both repulsed and turned on. What guy didn’t like a blowjob? He’d just...not expected it. “Oh, god!”

“Peg’s gonna make you feel good,” Steve told him, pushing in deeper. “It’s okay,” Steve told him. “Just close your eyes and try not to think.”

Bucky tried. It wasn’t easy. Two people at once? This had always been hard, and that was with two guys! But then Peggy was swallowing him and Steve was starting to thrust in and out, and it was hard to concentrate on being freaked out. It was also hard to concentrate on coming.

Finally Peggy gave up, sliding back up on the couch to wrap her arms around them. Bucky felt like he should kiss her. She had put his dick in her mouth without being asked. That deserved something.

As Steve fucked him slow and easy, Bucky experimented with kissing Peggy. She was soft. It was strange to kiss someone with no stubble. Took him back to his teenage years.

She moved against him, and it felt nice. Comfortable, somehow. He felt himself getting hard again, and he tried not to overthink it. She caught his swollen cock between soft thighs, and suddenly he was going on instinct. There was a hole nearby that needed filling.

A thrust and a gasp, and he was inside her. It felt...strange. But Bucky had to move. He pistoned his hips, thrusting deeper, and Steve matched his speed, pushing Bucky into her with his own thrusts.

“Oh god, Buck,” Steve sighed. “This is so hot.” Peggy leaned forward, kissing both of them, moving her hips to meet Bucky’s thrusts, groping her husband’s backside as he fucked Bucky into her.

Steve’s hand slid over Bucky’s hip to rub her clit, making sure Peggy was getting some enjoyment, too.

“Steve!” she bucked against them, and Bucky gasped as her muscles clenched around him. Holy shit, women were aliens! What the fuck?

“Yeah, Peg.” Steve kissed the back of her neck. “Fuck her harder, Buck,” Steve instructed. “I like to see her titties shake.”

Bucky felt that was rude, but he couldn’t really help how fast he was thrusting now. She was gripping and releasing him, almost like an inner hand jerking him off. “Oh god!”

“Harder, Buck.” Steve started to pound his ass, as if demonstrating.

Bucky mewled. It felt too good. “No...no…!”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve whispered. “Come. Come for us.”

“Fuck off, Steve!” Bucky had the strength to grunt before he lost it, hips thrusting fast as he blew his wod inside of Peggy.

“Sorry.” He collapsed on top of her, feeling the need to apologize. He felt like he’d just pissed in someone’s pool.

“Why?” Peggy asked, stroking his hair back.

“My turn,” Steve grunted, pulling out. He disappeared, which was an odd thing to do, then came running back into the room, sporting a magnum over his throbbing erection.

“Oh.” Bucky, who’d been blinking stupidly at Peggy, rolled out of the way.

Steve jumped onto the couch and jerked Peggy into his lap, fucking her cowgirl style. That position seemed to work a lot better for Peggy, who controlled the pace and ground against Steve’s hand touching her. She came in less than five minutes, shouting her pleasure, riding Steve hard.

Afterwards, he turned her around and fucked her from behind. She wore a patient yet slightly bored look, waiting for Steve to finish. Bucky wanted to laugh. He knew exactly how she felt. Steve and his damn pig dick. He moved around the kitchen, making hot cocoa, pretending not to watch, still feeling mighty weird about what had happened.

When Steve grunted and groaned his way through orgasm, Bucky came back, offering Peggy a mug. “Thank you.” She seemed to be totally ignoring her husband at this point. Steve collapsed on top of her, breathing hard.

“You want...help?” Bucky asked, wondering if she might want to sit up and get her robe back on instead of being pinned down by her beefy husband for the next half hour.

She smiled. “Thank you. It’s best for me to lie down for a bit...after.”

Oh, right. Baby-making. That’s what they’d been doing. Bucky crept over and retrieved his pants. Steve tried to kiss him when he came close, but he was half-asleep and not trying very hard.

“Go to sleep, Steve,” Bucky told him.

“Do you want...company?” Bucky asked her.

“I shouldn’t mind,” she told him. She didn’t seem particularly tired, but she was probably still on UK time. Bucky grabbed a throw blanket and draped it over her shoulders. Then he sat down close by and turned on the TV.

“Did you know the only time I ever watch television is after sex?”

“Really?”

She smirked, rolling her eyes back at the side of beef pinning her down. “Not all of us fall right to sleep afterward.”

“True,” he said.

They watched old Spencer Tracy movies until Bucky fell asleep over his mug of cocoa. When Monty came to bring him to bed around 3am, Peggy and Steve were gone. He felt odd as Monty led him away. Like something more significant than heterosexual sex had just happened. He didn’t like to recall the sensations, though they had been fine at the time. He just felt...different now, somehow.

*

That was the end of their visit with the Rogerses. So much for the pretense of friends hosting friends from out of town. Bucky was a little relieved. Honestly he couldn’t imagine trying to pretend things were normal between all of them after what had happened. He wasn’t upset, but things had certainly changed.

When they’d parted ways, Bucky had embraced Peggy, still feeling vaguely guilty about what he’d done to her. Steve kissed him on the cheek, pretending to just be continental up to the point he’d groped Bucky’s ass in front of Monty.

Now that they were alone, Monty wanted to travel. But Bucky needed to try and get a handle on just what had happened before he went jetting off into the great beyond. So while Monty wrapped up some business and got what they needed for their trip, he drove over to Connecticut to see Kate.

“Hey, Ugly,” he said. “What’s up?” He’d let himself in, and she was as usual bustling around the kitchen, fiddling with recipes. “Where’s the kid?”

“At a sleepover. Thank god.” She looked up at him and grinned. “Now I get mommy time.” She reached for a glass of red wine on the counter.

“Drunk cooking,” Bucky grinned. “My favourite.”

She pulled out a second glass and poured him one, too. “So, Pretty. How come you’re here instead of banging your long lost husband? Did you come to see the newlyweds across the street?” she teased.

“Oh god.” Bucky put his head in his hands.

Her face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Katie...something fucking weird…” he couldn’t even tell her.

“What, you guys had a threesome?” She leaned back against the counter, drinking her wine, calm as ever.

He looked up at her. “How the fuck--?!”

She smiled. “Come on. Your sweetie’s wife is back. You look like you just swallowed a cactus. What else could it be? You’d be crying if he’d left you.”

“Oh please, Kate.”

She rolled her eyes, amused. “Just saying.” She took a step closer. “Alright, so you had sex with a woman, am I right?”

He made a face.

“And it wasn’t the end of the world, right?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that. What if she--what if they…?”

Kate tried to fill in the blank. “What if they want to do it again?”

“Please,” he begged. “God.” Seeing that he really was having a hard time, she came around the counter and hugged him.

“Come on, little brother. Spit it out.”

“They want a baby.”

“Ohhhhh.” She squeezed him.

“I don’t...what if it’s my baby?”

“Well, I mean. It could be really great.”

Bucky wasn’t so sure. “If my baby is...being raised by people I might never see again…” He sighed. “It’s so stupid. Why do I even care?”

“Hey.” She sat down next to him. “It’s not stupid. If you care, that means something. You should pay attention to it.” She sipped her wine and took his hand, squeezing.

“Do you want this baby?”

“Jesus, no!”

She laughed. “Okay, that was easy.”

“But Monty wants one.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know. They get one, we get one. It’s like giving away a litter of kittens. But human beings aren’t kittens.”

She looked at him sardonically. “You don’t say.”

“Well, what would you do?” he asked, frustrated.

She drank some more. “Listen, if I grow a baby, it’s mine. That’s my baby.” Kate shook her head. “I wouldn’t bet on her being able to just give one to you and Monty.”

“So the whole deal is pointless,” Bucky said.

She shrugged. “I didn’t say that, I’m just telling you how I’d feel. Can you do a joint custody thing? Like the kid has four parents?”

“Is that a thing?”

“You want me to call my lawyer?”

Bucky recoiled. “No! I don’t want anyone else knowing about this! Besides, she might not even be knocked up.”

She pinched his cheek. “You’re so romantic.”

“Come on, Kate. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” She finished her wine and poured another.

He stared at the wine in her glass. “We should just get hammered.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” she grinned.

Bucky pulled out the hard liquor and started mixing drinks. They made dinner, and dessert, and were barely functional enough to eat once it was finished. The kitchen was trashed, but Bucky wasn’t thinking about being a father or a sperm donor anymore.

Chapter Text

He woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover. He was getting too old for this. When Bucky slid to the edge of the bed, trying to climb out, a strong hand jerked him up to his feet. He had to take a moment to push back the nausea. “Steve?” He squinted at him through the too-bright light in the room.

“You need to rehydrate,” Steve said, passing him a water.

“Thanks. What are you doing here again?”

“Kate went to the store. She said keep an eye on you in case you wake up.”

“She said that, huh?” What the hell was his sister trying to pull?

“Look. Peggy’s home. Shouldn’t you be back at your house enjoying her time off?”

He shrugged. “She has work to do, and I saw your car…”

“So you had to come over.” So predictable.

Steve looked hurt. “You don’t want me to?”

“No. That’s not what I meant.” Steve wrapped himself around Bucky, needing to touch him. Bucky hated how much he seemed to need it, too.

“Steve, what are we?”

“Huh? How do you mean?”

“What is this?” Bucky pulled back to look at him. “At first, it just felt like an affair, but now…”

“I love you,” Steve said stroking his hair back from his face. How he could say it so easily blew Bucky’s mind.

“But...what about Peggy?”

“I love her, too.” Steve smiled, sincere.

“How is that even possible?”

“Oh, I get it. You’re still stuck on mono-brain.”

Bucky made a face that said ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

“Come on, let’s get comfy.” He sat back down on the bed and patted the mattress next to him for Bucky to join.

Bucky sat down, wary. “See, all the love stories we hear growing up are between two people. Right?”

Bucky nodded.

“But what if they’re wrong? I mean, they’re already wrong about true love only being between a man and a woman, right?” Bucky nodded again. That bit made sense. “Well, what if they’re wrong about it being only one person you can be in love with? What if Cinderella married the prince and then she met the handsome stable boy who knew just how she liked to be held?”

It hit a little too close to home. Bucky sagged against Steve, putting a hand on his waist.

“Aw, Buck. You been strugglin’ with this.”

He hid his face in Steve’s shoulder. “Jeez.” Steve stroked his back. “What a asshole I am.”

Bucky slowly slid his arms around Steve, squeezing. “It’s not that.” Bucky sighed. “I just never...thought. I just--”

“You’re thinkin, maybe you were always this way.” He kept rubbing Bucky’s back. “Maybe that’s why you couldn’t let go of Tony.”

“No.” Tony was bad for him. And mean to Monty. “I don’t--”

“Hey. It’s okay. Just take some time. Think about it.” He moved back to brush Bucky’s hair again with his fingers. “Huh?” He smiled. “If you can.”

Bucky sighed. “What good is thinking going to do?”

Steve laughed. “Is that your modern critique of Hamlet?”

Bucky snorted. “No.” He punched Steve gently in the shoulder.

“Look.” Steve sat back, holding Bucky at arm’s length. “I know you’re married to someone else. But I feel like we belong together.” He touched Bucky’s cheek. “And I think you do, too.”

Bucky ducked forward, hiding his face against Steve’s chest. “Honest, Peggy’s fine with it. She’s got Dottie back home, and we all make it work.” He stroked Bucky’s hair. “Maybe...we can make it work, too.”

“I’d have to talk to Monty,” Bucky said, resting his cheek against Steve’s chest.

“Sure. Of course.” Against him, Steve seemed to tense a little. “What if he says no?”

Bucky couldn’t think about it right now. “I don’t know.”

Steve held him tight. Since neither of them seemed willing to let go anytime soon, eventually Steve lay down on the bed, where they curled together.

Cuddling led to kissing which led to some desperation m&m. Then they took a shower together and came back out to the living room just in time to help Kate with grocery bags.

“What have you two been up to?” she asked, smirking.

“None of your beeswax,” Bucky told her. Steve giggled.

While Kate unpacked groceries, Steve tugged Bucky out onto the front step. “Tell me what he says?”

“‘Course I will,” Bucky told him. “Dummy.”

Steve hugged him desperately one more time. “I want you. We want you, Buck. We could be a family. Monty, too.”

Bucky couldn’t even get his brain around the idea. But it sounded...nice. Even if there was no fucking outside of either marriage, it might be nice to have another couple to get together with now and then.

Steve kissed him before he left, and Bucky could feel the pressure of his lips all the way back to the city as he drove home.

*

After that, he and Monty stayed in New York long enough for Bucky to submit a paper he’d been working on. Then they were traveling, renting a Tuscan villa for a week, zip-lining through the rainforest in Costa Rica, playing tourists in the Forbidden City in Beijing. Bucky was trying to find the right time to talk to him about...everything. But it never seemed to be the right time.

Finally, they were at a rented house in Santorini. Bucky was out on the terrace, looking down over the rest of the village, drinking his after dinner tea. A text came in from Steve--they’d been texting every day, but this one was different.

She missed her period.

Bucky had a lot of feelings about that one sentence. What it really told him was that it was time to talk to Monty. He went back inside, ducking out of the wind to find his husband playing a very serious game of solitaire. It was how he relaxed, unplugged.

“Sweetheart.” Bucky sat down at the table. “There’s something I been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Yes, my love?” Monty looked up, took off his reading glasses. Bucky smiled. It was a cute gesture.

“How do you feel about...being a family...with Steve and Peggy?”

“Well, I think it should work out quite well. Of course, both of the children will be yours and hers…” He worried his lip. “Perhaps they should be raised together.”

Bucky was nodding. He didn’t like the idea of separating siblings. “But who should they stay with?” He looked a little sad, finally realizing the possibility of not having their own child.

Bucky licked his lips. “What if they stayed with...me and Steve? The two of you could continue working, and see them in your off time.”

“What, in the states?”

Bucky shrugged. “We could move to the U.K. I don’t know if that would scandalize the British press…”

“Nonsense,” Monty said. “We Brits have been hiding scandalous family secrets for centuries. If you came to the estate, no one need know about any of it.”

“But publicly whose would they be?” They had to have a story.

“Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves? We may be trying for some time, darling.” He didn’t say it, but there was always a possibility that he and Peggy wouldn’t be a good match either.

Bucky showed him Steve’s text.

“Oh.” Monty looked stunned. “Oh my!” He flew around the table to throw himself at Bucky in an exuberant hug. “We’re having a baby!”

He was so excited, Bucky didn’t want to point out that it could just be a false alarm. “So by we, you mean…?”

“You and I,” Monty said, kissing Bucky’s cheek, “And Rogers and Carter, too, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Bucky grinned.

“We’ll manage,” Monty told him. “Somehow we shall all make it work.”

*

Making it work turned out to be three nervous dads in the delivery room all at once. Bucky couldn’t stop pacing, and was the first to get thrown out. Then Monty, who Dottie claimed was giving Peggy a complex by staring in horror at her dilating vagina. Steve made it almost the whole way. But there was a particularly bloody push that left him passed out on the floor. After that, all three of them waited together, hand in hand in hand.

Steve was called in to see their daughter first. When Bucky was allowed in, he found the big oaf weeping over a tiny swaddled raisin, very pink and pinch-faced.

“Is that how babies are supposed to look?” he asked, concerned. Then Steve let him hold her, and he didn’t care anymore. Monty put his arms around Bucky, leaning his chin on his shoulder. Bucky was out of words. Beautiful, perfect, miraculous. They all seemed to fail.

Finally, she started sticking her little tongue out at him and Dottie took her away to practice nursing. Peggy looked beyond exhausted. He went over and kissed her on the cheek. She squeezed his fingers and kissed his hand.

*

It was a typical crisp fall day in Manhattan. Hydraulic brakes were hissing, vendors were hawking. Steve went and got them some candied almonds. Bucky kept his arms wrapped around little Sarah. The baby carrier was secure, but he just felt better with his hands on her. At all times.

Steve fed him almonds as they strolled toward the park. “Kinda chilly out here,” Steve said. He reached over to feel the baby’s cheeks.

“She’s good, Steve.”

“You sure?” Steve had brought an extra hat and socks just in case.

“Trust me, she’s like a burning hot coal against my chest.”

Steve laughed, but Bucky wasn’t kidding. This kid put off some heat. All the same, he had his jacket zipped up around her tiny feet. Once they were in the park, Bucky relaxed a little, let Steve take his hand. The other one stayed on Sarah.

Steve turned and smiled at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a cute dad?”

“Quiet, you,” Bucky told him. “I didn’t come here to get picked up.”

Steve laughed. “Aw, babe.” He grabbed Bucky and kissed him until Sarah started to protest, frog-kicking and shouting for attention.

“Here, you take her, Dad. She can kick you in the belly for a while.”

“My pleasure,” Steve smiled, and held her while Bucky detached the harness and buckled him in.

It felt weird not to have her against him, though. Bucky kept glancing over, nervously.

Sarah stared around them at everything, practicing her babbling. At six months, she could say “Dah” and “Mah” and “Bah” in response to the different parents in her life, though she admittedly applied “Dah” to all three of her dads intermittently.

Monty flew back to New York nearly every weekend, afraid she might forget him otherwise. When he was home, Bucky and Steve let him babysit while they racked up alone time. Monty didn’t seem to mind in the least, ultra-focused on their daughter.

Peggy had shifted her office to New York for her semi-maternity leave. She had six months, and was very ready to stop breast-feeding by the end. Milk teeth were sharp.

Once her six months were up, Monty took his. That meant moving to Europe so that he could get to parliament for important votes, but re-do the manse in his off time.

Bucky practically slept in the nursery. Steve spent more time with Peggy, helping design and coach her through an exercise routine to take the baby weight back off--retaining it was exacerbating Peggy’s postpartum depression, and none of them wanted that.

That Christmas, Peggy crawled into bed with Bucky and Steve again and their second child was conceived roughly the same way their first had been. Bucky couldn’t imagine having sex with Peggy, just...on his own. But caught between them in a Jamie sandwich, it felt easy.

Threesomes were a common sleeping arrangement at the estate. The nights Steve slept over without Peggy, he and Monty usually ended up curled around Bucky. It was strange, but. It felt right. Bucky was slowly learning not to think about it too hard.

Monty and Peggy were the only ones who never really made that intimate connection. Bucky could never tell if it was manners or mutual agreement--there was certainly no lack of attraction on Monty’s end. But if he was jealous that Bucky had gotten to have sex with her and he hadn’t, he never said so.

Jackie had dark hair and eyes, like her mother. Steve liked to joke that Sarah was his and Bucky’s, because of her coloring: blond and blue-eyed, and that Jackie was his and Peggy’s. But Bucky wasn’t worried. His sister Becky had started out blond and turned brunet around age 6. Other than that, the girls looked just alike. No one ever doubted they were sisters, in spite of Steve’s joking.

*

At two, Peggy put her foot down, declaring that she needed a break. She claimed pregnancy had completely wrecked her body, though Steve vehemently disagreed. Bucky couldn’t really comment, though Monty was on Steve’s side. Still, it was her body, and she’d put it through a lot.

That next year, she and Steve set up a brutal exercise routine designed to make her feel at home in her body again. As Steve was her personal trainer, that meant moving to the U.K. again once Peggy’s maternity leave was over.

They’d gone back to New York when Monty’s paternity leave for Sarah had run out in March, and waited to start the cycle all over again when Jackie was born. Both of them felt more comfortable in New York City, and as they were the primary caregivers, Steve and Bucky got final say. Also, it was nice to be able to drop the baby off at Kate’s for the odd weekend to fly to Nantucket and fuck like teenagers.  

Now they returned to England with both daughters in tow. Monty was ready for them. He’d had two nurseries set up in the Deepdene, though in the end, Bucky decided to keep the girls together in one. There was plenty of time for them to live separately later on. He and Kate had shared a room until they were nine, and he felt it was one of the reasons why they were so close. He wanted that for his girls, though Kate had warned him it was different with two girls.

He’d taken sabbatical, so he had plenty of time to watch the kids while Steve worked with Peggy. Bucky took them on morning walks through the gardens on the estate, getting his own workout pushing the all-terrain double stroller. Monty said they could get a nanny or two if they wanted, but neither he nor Steve were really for that.

Steve was almost always home for lunch, and they watched the girls together until it was time to meet Mummy or Daddy #3 for tea. That was the part where it was very convenient to have a driver. Bucky didn’t think he could have survived Steve’s driving with both of his children in the car. The stress alone…

This routine continued through the summer until Steve looked the most like a bodybuilder since Bucky had known him, and Peggy was back to a size 10, and content.

The summer gave them all more time together. Dottie had started to act more cold toward Peggy since her second pregnancy. Maybe it was that she’d come to rely on the boys more after the children were born, maybe it was that Dottie had anticipated them raising her children together. Either way, she spent her vacation at Dorking Manor, tanning by the pool and going on long walks in the rain with Steve and the girls. Bucky had to let go and let them do it. It meant more time with Monty, which was a plus, but no matter what he did, his mind was always with his daughters.

When Peggy and Steve invited him to their room one night, Bucky was nervous. He’d thought they were taking a break from all this. But they just wanted to cuddle. Bucky liked sleeping with the two of them--relaxing.

But Monty started to get jealous. He started to pay particular attention to Peggy, perhaps in an attempt to make Bucky jealous as well. But they’d been together for so long now, all four of them, Bucky was over it.

A drunken night of cards found Monty and Peggy slow-dancing on the enclosed porch. Bucky looked at Steve, who was watching them, his arms wrapped firmly around Bucky. “Is it...weird for you?” Bucky asked.

“Seein’ her with a guy who’s not you? Kinda. But it’s up to her.”

Bucky wasn’t sure she had a real chance. Peggy had a steel will, but Monty was a charmer, and there was a bottle of vodka sitting empty on the card table. When they’d started to strip, Steve and Bucky had watched for a little bit, but then left them to their privacy--if a couch on a porch can be called private--and gone to bed to have a bit of their own fun.

Two months later, Peggy was crying into her tea. “I bloody hate this.”

Monty was all contrition. “Truly...I am sorry.”

Privately he blamed Steve and Bucky for not having reminded him to wear a rubber.

Steve just laughed.

“You were drunk. I would have had to put it on for you,” Bucky told him. “It was a lost cause.” But like Bucky, Monty seemed to feel general guilt for having knocked Peggy up, and he understood that.

They took turns holding her and waiting on her hand and foot when she was sick. But after the first trimester, her third pregnancy seemed a breeze for Peggy. They almost didn’t make it to hospital, her labor went so quickly.

Monty was obscenely proud when it was a boy. Bucky delighted in poking him awake to go take care of Brian when he turned out to be as collicky and fussy as the worst infant boy while his own angelic daughters slept quiet as mice.

But it was Steve who really stepped up and did most of the mothering for Brian. He had oodles more patience than Bucky, and Monty worked for the first six months, which were undoubtedly the worst.

On his own, Bucky would have hired a nanny. Even Peggy looked haggard after ten minutes of Brian’s screaming. Bucky started calling Steve Zen Dad because it never seemed to bother him. He’d talk to the tiny monster in a soothing baritone, patting his little bum and walking him all over the house until he finally quieted down.

One day, Sarah asked Peggy why Brian screamed so much. Peggy said it was because boys needed more attention than girls because of their fragile egos. Bucky had started blogging his daughters’ more amusing conversations after that-- yes, he’d become that dad.

He was walking through the gardens one morning, holding Sarah’s hand and pushing Brian and Jackie in the stroller when Bucky suddenly realized: he wasn’t going to go back to City College. He missed teaching, but not one thousandth of a percent as much as he missed his children when he was away from them. Maybe he would return to the collegiate scene one day in the distant future, when his children were angry teens or living in dorms at their own colleges. But right now, in this moment, he was happy.

Sarah wanted to stop and smell some bright orange day lilies, so he waited while she crouched down in her duck yellow sun dress. He got out his phone and took photo after photo, sending the best ones to the family group chat.

“Baddy?” Sarah differentiated her three fathers by giving each one a different starting consonant. Monty was Maddy and Steve got the actual Daddy. Really Bucky just got a kick out of her English accent. For some reason, after spending most of her waking hours with American accents, she’d still picked the lesser heard one.

“Yes, pumpkin girl?”

“Can I be a flower fairy when I grow up?”  

“You certainly may. You can be whatever you want.” She beamed and did a little dance, and Bucky wished he’d had the video recorder on.

“And can I live in a castle and have three daddies like Mummy does?”

“Whatever you want, Princess Sarah.”

She crouched down, covering her lips, smiling. “I want five daddies.” Five was the highest number Sarah could think of lately. “And they’ll all love each other like you and Daddy and Maddy.”

Bucky smiled. “I think that sounds like a great idea.” Had they normalized polyamory for their children? It looked like they had. But he wondered...was it a good thing or a bad thing?

His phone pinged. It was Steve, responding to the photos.

Where are you?

Bucky bent down by Sarah. “Daddy wants to know where we are, so he can come find us. Do you want to tell him?”

Sarah nodded and he turned on the mic, holding the phone up for her. “Daddy, we are by the orange flowers and the lavenders on the way to the roses.” It was as good a way to give directions as any. English gardens were so organized.

“Also I’m going to be a fairy princess and I love you. Can I have a banana?” Bucky smiled, letting her ramble. Just before he turned the mic off, Brian woke up and started to whinge.

Nevermind, I hear my son has turned on the Bat Siren.

He must be close, because this was a 1 on the Richter scale of Brian wails. Your son needs you, Batman. He went to pick Brian up before he got louder and upset Jackie, who was happily playing with some colored golf balls on her snack tray.

True to form, Brian got louder as soon as Bucky put him over his shoulder. “Come on, pal,” Bucky begged. “Let’s not go deaf this early in the morning, huh?”

Sarah already had her fingers stuffed in her ears. She squealed and ran to Steve when he walked up behind Bucky, doing his best Christian Bale impression. “I’m Batman!”

“Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!” Sarah shrieked, and Steve took a detour to toss her up in the air and catch her in a way that made Bucky scowl.

“Is this the lair of the princess?” he asked her, when she was safely in his arms again.

Sarah nodded. “I want you to play with me but first you better take Brian.”

Steve smiled, putting her down on her own two feet again. “Yeah, I guess I’d better.” Then he came to rescue Bucky from the collicky one.

“Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi,” Bucky begged. “You’re my only hope.”

Brian quieted down almost immediately when Steve took him. It was completely unfair. “I swear he can smell you.”

Steve chuckled. “You just don’t try as hard when you know I’m coming.”

“Bullspit,” Bucky said (swear words had had to be adjusted for a child-full household). “Your son hates me.”

“Awww, c’mon, Buck.” Steve reached for him with his free hand. Bucky took it.

“Do you think we’re good parents?” he asked, out of the blue.

“What, are you kiddin’ me?” he asked. “They grow up in a mansion with two stay at home dads? Who could ask for more than that?”

Bucky smiled a little. “Sarah told me she wants five daddies when she grows up.”

Steve seemed to think about this. “I figure she’s not aimin’ high enough. I mean, why stop at five?”

Bucky laughed. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing, though?” he asked. “I mean, will they expect all families to be like ours?”

“Hey.” Steve put his arm around him. “They’re not gonna grow up weird.”

Bucky sighed, unconvinced.

“You’re happy, aren’t you?”

Bucky nodded. That was an easy question to answer. “Well, look at it this way: this gives them more ways to be happy, if that’s how they decide to go. Imagine how you would’ve been if you’d known it was an option sooner.”

Bucky tried as he watched Sarah skip through the flowers with Jackie toddling behind. “I guess...maybe I would have kept Tony around.”

That made Steve grimace. He hated Tony even more than Monty did. But he squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Would that have been better?”

He shrugged. Somehow, he thought if it had been allowed, Tony probably would have quickly lost interest. But there was no telling now. “Least I wouldn’t have had to feel guilty about frackin’ him.”

Steve nodded. After a few beats of silence, he said, “You should call him.”

“What?” Bucky looked at him like he was crazy. “Why?”

“Because...he loved you, right?”

“In his own way. I guess.”

“Losin’ you probably fucked him up.”

Bucky shrugged. Tony was already plenty fucked up before he’d gotten there.

“Just call him,” Steve insisted.

*

It was Jackie’s third birthday party that finally ushered Tony back into Bucky’s life. He came swooping in with presents for all three kids. Too many. And a petting zoo--they already had ponies.

Leaving the usual trail of chaos in his wake, Tony left Monty and the staff to sort through where the petting zoo was supposed to go and came in to find Bucky.

“Hey, gorgeous. Long time no see.” Bucky hugged him, and it felt good. Especially with no funny business. Tony actually behaved around the kids.

Bucky introduced him to his children first, letting him ingratiate himself to them with presents. Apparently Tony could also do some sleight of hand now. The kids thought he was a magician.

Peggy looked on, semi-disapprovingly. Steve had had to work hard to convince her that a sometimes-recovered drug addict should be allowed around her children.

“Peggy, this is--”

“Anthony Edward Stark. Yes, I’m familiar with his dossier.”

“My dossier?” Tony raised his eyebrows. “You been researching me, Red-hot Riding Hood?”

She didn’t look amused.

Bucky tried to finish introducing them. “Peggy...you know--”

“Oh, I know Agent Carter,” Tony grinned. “I hacked the files.” That was Tony, though. Always pushing the line of acceptability.

“And you’ve met Steve,” Bucky moved on, before it evolved into a catfight.

“Ah, yes. Beautiful Steve.” Tony sighed.

“Tony.” Steve nodded, curt. He had Brian balanced on his knee, feeding him applesauce because Brian wanted nothing to do with birthday cake all of a sudden. Tony wasn’t quite sure what to do with the kid.

“And of course you know Monty.” This was Bucky’s opportunity to look away while the two of them locked horns. Tony’s arm snaked around his waist.

“Falsworth. I see your family grew since the last time I came to take Jamie back.”

“Oh, is that why you’ve come?” He looked pointedly at Bucky.

“Come on, Tony,” Bucky told him. “Let’s talk.”

As soon as they entered the private drawing room, Tony started to take his clothes off. “Whooooa, Tony.” Bucky grabbed his hands, stilling them. “That is not why you’re here.”

“Can it be, though?” Tony pleaded. “It’s been years, sugarbear. I’m dying of thirst over here.”

Bucky sighed, sitting down, forcing Tony to join him if he wanted to stay on the same level. “Tony, you know I care about you…”

“Oh god, here it comes.” Tony grabbed his jacket and prepared to leave.

“Stop. Will you just listen for a minute?”

“Not if you’re gonna thank me for everything I ever did for you, sayonara.”

“Tony. Listen.”

“Alright, sweetcheeks.” Tony slid into his lap, wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I’m all ears.”

“Steve thinks we should be in touch again.”

“Steve?” Tony looked genuinely surprised. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Bucky was careful in his reply. “I worry about you when we’re out of touch.”

“You do?” Tony was nuzzling him.

“Come on, Tony. I’m bein’ serious.” Tony kissed his jaw and then stopped, pulling back to listen. “Can we see each other again? Like...regularly? So I know you’re okay?”

“Are we talking sex or no sex?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky sighed.

“Sounds promising.”

“Just...please don’t trample all over this. It’s got a lot of moving parts.”

“You mean because the kids are yours and Peggy’s but you and Steve play dad full time?”

“That’s part of it,” Bucky said.

“And because Monty’s in love with Steve’s wife, but you’re in love with Peggy’s husband?”

“I don’t know if that’s--”

“And Peggy’s the only woman you’d willingly sleep with even though you love her like a sister?”

Now Bucky’s eyes were narrowed.

“Oh, you’re my new soap opera. I love trying to figure out all the twists and turns.”

“We’re not a show, Tony.”

“No,” Tony agreed. “You’re real live boys and girls, and I want my Jamie back.” He nuzzled him again.

Bucky sighed. “I’m not leaving them, Tony.”

“I know,” Tony said, kissing his way down Bucky’s neck. “But I want in. Where do I sign?”

*

It was awkward trying to fit Tony in at first. Bucky kept it strictly platonic. The hard part about holding him at arm’s length was that the kids loved him.

“Is Uncle Tony coming over to play today?”

“Uncle Tony promised me a motorcycle.”

Even Brian loved Tony. He rode all over the house perched on Tony’s back, like a stoic Tusken raider on a bantha. Bucky watched them go with a sigh. “Regretting your choice yet?” he asked Steve.

“No.” Steve was smiling. “Though I know he drives Peggy nuts.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “He does that when he knows he annoys people.”

Steve’s smile widened. “I guess it’s her own fault, then.”

Bucky leaned against him. “Thanks for letting me call him again.”

Steve nudged him gently. “Family is family. Why let guilt keep you apart from someone you care about?”

Bucky sighed. “I guess.”

“And rob our kids of a great uncle?”

Bucky smiled, watching Bantha Tony stop to fix some tracks for Sarah’s toy train. “Good point. You know, I never knew he was good with kids.”

“That’s fair. I never knew the love of my life was two people...till I gave it a chance.”

Bucky looked up at him. “Steve Rogers, you’re a giant sap, you know that?”

“Bucky Barnes, have my babies.”

Bucky giggled as Steve pulled him close and tickled him with his stubble. “Steve, no! You already have three!”

“Come on, we still outnumber ‘em.”

“Steve!”

“I really want twins this time!”

“Steve!” Bucky was still trying to escape. “You should really talk to Peggy about that.”

“Come on,” Steve teased. “She can’t impregnate herself!”

“Steve!’ But Steve grabbed him close and wouldn’t let go.

“I love you, Buck,” he murmured, squeezing him.

“Damn you, Steve Rogers,” Bucky sighed, petting his hair. “I love you, too.”

But seriously. Twins!?