Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hey Buck, c’mon,” says Steve for the hundredth time, shifting in his beach chair. He leans over to rummage in the beach bag for some sunblock, conscientiously applying more to his face even though his sunburns only last half an hour. 

Bucky grunts and squirms in his chair. He sits under their beach umbrella, stone-faced, staring straight out at the ocean. His dark grey hoodie is zipped to the neck and his arms are more wrapped around himself than crossed. 

“Seriously, Buck, you’re gonna get heatstroke,” Steve says in a frustrated voice, turning toward Bucky and ignoring the three young women in bikinis who walk in front of him for the dozenth time, staring at him and then giggling and whispering. There’s a light breeze coming in off the ocean, playing at the stray tendrils coming out of Bucky’s bun, but otherwise the day is hot and cloudless and the sun shines strong on the sand.

In response, Bucky unwraps his arms, pulls the hood over his head, and yanks the strings so the fabric pulls tight around his face. 

Steve laughs out loud and stretches his arms over his head, causing a collective gasp from the young women loitering nearby.

“Jesus, Buck, you are such a child,” he says, reaching out and rubbing Bucky’s arm. Bucky pulls away and crosses his arms over his chest again. “You’re like a five-year-old, you realize that?”

Bucky mumbles, “Why are we even here anyway,” under his breath. Steve hears him and says, “It’s the beach! We’re on vacation! This is supposed to be fun and relaxing, Buck.”

“I know,” grumbles Bucky, “but why here? Why Craigville? We could be in Provincetown or Fire Island or somewhere less...family-friendly.” He glares at a cluster of small blond kids shrieking and splashing each other in the surf not far down the beach from their chairs.

“Nat recommended this place - she said it would be more low-key.” 

“It’s packed with families...and fucking Russians. This is Natasha’s idea of a joke. She’s totally screwing with us,” grouses Bucky, kicking a trough in the sand with his feet. 

“Maybe - but it is a nice beach. And Four Seas is right up the road - you already love their ice cream,” says Steve reasonably. He sighs and touches Bucky’s arm again.

“Look, Buck, I know you had a rough night last night,” he says in a low voice. Bucky snorts. 

“Rough night” is a bit of an understatement - Bucky had tossed and turned for hours, occasionally calling out ominous-sounding Russian phrases, and when he finally woke up it had taken him hours to recognize Steve and calm down from the nightmares. Steve had then curled himself around Bucky, kissing his neck and whispering comforting things in his ear, but even then he wasn’t sure that Bucky had gotten back to sleep after that. 

Steve sighs. Bucky’s been doing so much better after his stay in Wakanda in cryo and after Shuri’s treatment, but even now, two years later, he still has flashbacks and bad nights. This has been the worst in the last few months. 

“Anyway, we’re here now, so let’s just relax and enjoy ourselves. Wanna go swimming?” Steve looks anxiously at his partner. Bucky just shakes his head and jams his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Steve shakes his head and goes back to sunbathing. Five minutes later, he turns to Bucky again.

“Sure you don’t want to take off your sweatshirt?” Bucky snorts again.

“Yeah, cause everyone on this beach won’t freak out about a monster with a metal arm or anything,” he mutters sarcastically. 

“That’s why Tony made your sleeve, so you can cover up and people won’t stare,” says Steve, stretching his legs so his differentiated quad muscles flex. More giggling and whispering from the groupies just down the sand. He shakes his head. “God, you can be such a dumbass.”

“You’re the dumbass,” Bucky grumbles. “Dragging us here...”

He’s interrupted by a 13-year-old boy walking by, who takes one look at Bucky shrouded in his hoodie and says, in Russian, <“Hey weirdo, what’s with your bullshit?”> and laughs. Steve doesn’t understand, but gets the general tone. Before he can stand up and defend his boyfriend, Bucky yells back, also in Russian, <“Fuck off you little dickhead, or I’ll show you some real bullshit!”>

The boy runs off, but two minutes later what looks to be his father and uncle start to approach Bucky, saying, <“What did you just call my son, motherfucker...”> They’re fairly well-muscled and wear heavy gold chains that hang down over their pec tattoos. Steve leaps up in an instant, but Bucky takes his time, slowly rising to his feet and removing his hoodie to reveal his ridiculously muscled torso and gleaming vibranium arm. He stands next to Steve and brings his fists together, the plates in his forearm and wrist flexing and shifting with his movements.

<“I said,”> he says in a voice of ice, <“that he was a little dickhead. Maybe you should teach him some manners...you big dickhead. Unless you want those chains shoved up your ass.”> 

Steve raises his hands up and together in mimicry of Bucky’s pose, shoulders, biceps, and pecs bulging. Gun show? More like Katyusha rocket launcher show. 

“I suggest you move along and leave my friend alone,” he says quietly. “Sir.” 

The man and his brother stand stock-still for a moment, faces red with co-mingled rage and fear, and then walk away, grumbling angrily to each other. The groups around Steve and Bucky on the beach stare fearfully at them for a minute, then turn their backs and began to edge their chairs and blankets a bit inward and away from the two men. Even the groupies turn serious and walk off.

Steve looks at them, sighs, and runs his fingers through his short hair. 

“Well, that went swimmingly,” he says, grabbing Bucky around the shoulder. “Let’s get outta here...go back to the house and take a rest out of the sun. And get away from those assholes. I don’t wanna start a fight on the beach, especially in front of all these kids.” 

Bucky still holds his hands together as if ready to fight. Then he shakes himself, punches Steve lightly in the kidneys, and says, “OK.” Pause. “Even if it was a kid who started it.”  

Steve gathers their stuff and puts the chairs and folded-up umbrella in a pack on his back. Bucky picks up the big Bean’s tote bag with their towels and sunblock and his hoodie, and then says, “Wait a second.” Then he rummages in the bag and pulls out the flesh-colored arm sleeve and puts it on. With his vibranium arm covered, he looks about 100 percent less threatening. 

Bucky puts the tote bag over his shoulder and says, “OK, now I’m ready.” He gives Steve an angelic smile. Steve looks at him, chuckles, and shakes his head. 

“Oh, NOW you put on the sleeve, just as we’re leaving?” he says, punching Bucky on his flesh shoulder. “Nice. Jerk.” Bucky gives him a shit-eating grin and they start walking down the beach toward the road. 

*****

Steve and Bucky are staying at a large house set back about 300 yards from the Craigville Beach Road on the opposite side from the beach. As they get ready to cross the road to the house, Bucky looks to the left. A causeway bridge carries the Beach Road over the ocean inlet just as it joins up with the Centerville River. The tide is fairly high and a group of people, mostly teenagers and young men, are jumping off the bridge into the water.

“Hey Steve,” says Bucky. “Let’s go jump off the bridge - that looks fun.” 

Steve adjusts the pack of chairs and umbrella on his back and says, “Can’t we take this crap back to the house first?” 

“What, are ya all tired carryin it? Captain America getting old?” says Bucky teasingly, pulling Steve down the sidewalk toward the bridge. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.” They walk down the road to the bridge and stop in the middle. Bucky puts the tote bag down on the sidewalk and jumps up on the railing. 

“C’mon Stevie, let’s do this!” he shouts. A couple of the teenagers giggle, but most just ignore the crazy older guy. 

“Buck, we can’t just leave the stuff here, it’s not ours, it goes with the house...” Steve starts to say, but Bucky cuts him off.

“Screw the stuff!” he yells. Steve sighs. 

“You go ahead,” he says, resigned. “I’ll watch the stuff.” 

“Party pooper,” says Bucky, grinning, and without warning does a perfect back flip off the bridge and disappears into the water. Steve and the teenagers gasp. After a few seconds, Steve expects Bucky to surface.

But he doesn’t. There aren’t even any bubbles. 

After a minute, Steve starts looking around the water to see where Bucky might have gone, but there’s no sign of him. He crosses the street and looks to see if he’s come up on the other side of the bridge.

No sign of Bucky. 

Steve re-crosses the street and pushes down the panic rising in his throat. Has Bucky done something stupid? Has he hit his head under water? Or is he just being a prick and hiding? He knows Bucky can hold his breath for a long time - they both can - but he expected him to surface somewhere in the vicinity. He looks out toward the ocean and back toward the river, but there’s no Bucky. It’s like his partner has disappeared. He walks over to the other side of the bridge where a teenage boy is climbing up the bank and back onto the bridge to make another jump.

“Hey, did you see my friend down there?” he says, trying to sound calm. Tall guy, long dark hair?” The kid shrugs and shakes his head. Steve goes back to the pile of stuff and exhales. His heart is tight in his chest and the sound of the surf pounds in his ears. 

“Buck?” he calls, looking around wildly. “BUCKY!!” It’s been more than five minutes. He’s about to kick off his flip-flops and dive in to look around underwater when a small voice sounds in his ear. 

“Ya lookin for someone called Bucky, punk? I heard he swam out to sea.” 

Steve whirls around and comes face to face with his lover, who’s soaking wet and squeezing the water out of his hair. Bucky smirks and a mischievous sparkle lights up his ridiculously blue eyes. 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” says Steve in a low voice, grinding his teeth. “I am going to fucking kill you.” 

“C’mon Stevie, it was just a joke, whatsa matter with you,” says Bucky in over-accentuated Brooklynese. He reaches into the tote and pulls out a towel, drying off his torso and rubbing his hair. 

Steve says nothing but turns beet red, grabs the tote bag and beach accessories, and starts marching down the street toward the driveway to their house. Bucky follows behind, clutching the towel, a look of combined mulishness and uncertainty on his face. 

*****

As soon as they enter the house, Steve turns to Bucky.

“What the fuck, man?” His face is still red and his eyes are shiny. Bucky opens his mouth to protest, closes it again, and says, “Hey, I was just havin some fun, c’mon now, it wasn’t that big a deal.” 

“Of course it was a big deal!” Steve shouts. “I was worried about you! I thought something had happened to you, like you’d hit your head or just decided to disappear on me.” 

“I wouldn’t just disappear on you...” Bucky starts to say but Steve cuts him off.

“Oh you wouldn’t, would you?” he says. “You wouldn’t disappear after the Triskellion, or Bucharest, or that time in Wakanda when I couldn’t find you for 48 hours and I had to find someone to help me feed the fuckin goats. Or when you ran off right before Thanksgiving last year and didn’t come back until we were all sitting down to dinner and you were all covered in bruises.” 

“Or,” he says, voice wavering, “that time back in January when you had a bad night and then you fucked off from the Tower for three days and came home with blood everywhere, but wouldn’t tell me where you’d been or what had happened. I couldn’t find you. Tony and Bruce couldn’t find you. Even FRIDAY couldn’t find you. I was out of my mind, Buck. I thought you were gone for good.” 

Steve tips over into real crying then. His shoulders shake and he wipes his face with the back of his hands. Bucky leads him to the big black leather couch in the austere living room that looks like something out of an architecture magazine. He sits down, pulls Steve down next to him, and maneuvers Steve’s head onto his lap, stroking his hair gently as he sobs. 

“I know you were worried, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly when the sobs have subsided. “I just panicked after those bad times and I felt like I had to get away from everything, and I didn’t want to dump it all on you.” 

He pauses. “You’re too good for me, you know,” he continues. “You deserve someone good and solid and reliable who doesn’t disappear on you and doesn’t have trauma flashbacks all the time. Someone whole.” 

“Fuck off with that bullshit!” cries Steve, sitting up. “I’m not too good for you, Buck. I’m not whole. I’m a fucking disaster. I have nightmares all the fucking time too.” His breath catches in a leftover sob.

“And my biggest nightmare is losing you again. I don’t think I could deal with that.” His voice breaks and he cups Bucky’s face in his hand. 

“I don’t want someone good and solid and reliable,” he says, looking intensely into Bucky’s eyes. “I want YOU. I love YOU. Just...don’t disappear on me. Stay here with me and let me love you.”

Bucky’s eyes flash and he leans over and fastens his lips onto Steve’s. Within seconds the kiss goes from sweet and sincere to heated and urgent. Bucky licks Steve’s bottom lip and with a groan Steve opens his mouth to Bucky’s tongue. A dark urgency overtakes them; Bucky kisses Steve like he wants to devour him and Steve kisses back like he wants to be devoured. Then Bucky moves his lips over to Steve’s ear. 

“I love you too, Steve. I’m sorry about scaring you today, and I’m sorry about bailing all those times before. And I also...” his metal hand drags down Steve’s torso to the band of his swim trunks and brushes over the tip of his fast-hardening cock, “...want you.” Steve inhales and his breath hitches in his throat, and Bucky takes that opportunity to silence him with his mouth again. 

A few minutes later, Steve takes the initiative and, as Bucky breaks away briefly from their kisses, puts his mouth to the skin below Bucky’s ear and begins to trace slow, languorous kisses down his neck to his collarbone. Now it’s Bucky’s turn to gasp, and he leans his head back and grabs Steve’s head to keep it in place. Steve shakes off his hand and licks back up his neck until he sits face to face with Bucky again. 

“Salty,” he whispers, flashing a crooked smile. Bucky leans in to lick the salt off Steve’s lips. “Yep,” he says, and grins himself. 

Steve pushes Bucky back against the couch cushions and kisses and licks his way down his torso. At the waistband of Bucky’s swimsuit, he sucks a dark bruise into the skin above Bucky’s hip, listening with satisfaction as his partner’s breathing intensifies. Then he pulls off the trunks, smiles up at Bucky’s face (he’s so beautiful), and slowly licks from the base of his cock to the tip. Bucky moans out loud as Steve takes his cock into his mouth and begins sucking. 

“So good,” Bucky says, panting. “So good, Stevie, aaahhh....” and breaks off as Steve’s tongue swirls around the head of his dick. 

Suddenly Steve stops mid-blowjob and sits up. He stares intensely at Bucky, rips off the sleeve covering his vibranium arm, and holds out his hand. Bucky takes it, a bit confused and still wildly horny, and Steve pulls him up to standing. 

“C’mon,” he says, tugging Bucky toward the stairs, and they go up a flight to the giant master bedroom. They’ve only arrived the night before and their bags still lie unpacked at the side of the king-size bed. Steve rifles in his duffel for a moment, then pulls out a bottle of lube. He hands it to Bucky, steps out of his bathing suit to reveal a massive hard-on, and says, “Make love to me.” 

Bucky’s pupils dilate as his metal hand closes around the lube, and he steps forward and kisses Steve breathless, reaching down to grab his perfect ass and grind their hips together. Then he muscles Steve down onto the bed and pulls his legs open. 

The lube drips over Bucky’s flesh fingers and he eases them down under Steve’s balls and against his asshole. He leans over to lick Steve’s nipple and hisses, “Open up for me, baby,” gently probing a finger into Steve’s tight hole. Steve makes a noise between a squeak and a moan and he opens his legs further and says, “Yeah...stretch me, Buck.” A second finger is added and more lube and then a third and...

“Fuck me, Bucky, please!” begs Steve, clamping hard on Bucky’s fingers. Bucky removes his fingers, pumps his dick two or three times, and pushes the tip against Steve’s hole. He enters him slowly, eyes closed, ignoring Steve’s entreaties to fill him up already, reveling in the tight heat and the feel of Steve’s hard cock straining against his lower abdomen. Finally he’s all the way in and he opens his eyes to the magnificent image of Steve laid out beneath him, head back, mouth open, arms clutching the bedsheets. 

“Steve,” Bucky says softly. “Steve. Look at me, Steve.” Steve reluctantly opens his eyes - so blue, such long lashes - and looks him in the face, panting with desire. 

“I’m here, Stevie,” he says, stroking Steve’s hair, caressing his neck. “I’m here, inside you. Can you feel me inside you?” He angles his hips so his shaft rolls over Steve’s prostate and Steve grunts out loud in response. 

“Don’t leave me, Buck,” he moans, turning his head to kiss Bucky’s outstretched hand. “I need you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not goin anywhere,” Bucky says, pulling halfway out and then smoothly shoving all the way into Steve. “I’m here. I need you too.” Steve whimpers, his face flushed. 

“And now...” Bucky growls, with another half-thrust, “I’m gonna need you to come. Can you do that, baby? Can you do that for me?” And he fucks Steve with long, smooth strokes and reaches between them to cradle Steve’s balls. 

“HHNNNNNNGGGGG,” yells Steve, “Oh yes, oh God, Buck, yes...” and a minute later his dick pulses and Bucky feels warm cum spurt onto his stomach. This sends him over the edge and his cock jolts as he spills his load into Steve. Steve flexes his arms as his orgasm subsides and he feels Bucky empty himself inside him and...RRRIIIP tears a two-foot hole in the sheets he’s been clutching. 

Steve and Bucky look at each other in surprise for a moment and then burst out laughing. Steve’s laughs contract his asshole around Bucky and his dick twitches with almost unbearable pleasure. After a minute when their laughter subsides, Bucky makes a move to pull out, but Steve says, “Wait!” and grabs his hips. He lookes down at Steve.

“What’s up, Stevie?” says Bucky softly. Steve looks up at him with huge eyes. 

“Bucky...promise me you won’t disappear anymore. Please. I know things are tough sometimes and I know you still have flashbacks and nightmares, but I’m here for you. I love you. Please... PLEASE promise me you’ll stay. We’ll get through all the tough times together. Please.” Steve’s eyes get shiny and tears leak out of the outer corners as he blinks. 

Bucky looks down at his partner and feels a deep pang in his chest as he realizes how much Steve has been hurting. And it suddenly strikes him that, instead of protecting Steve by taking himself away at his worst times, he’s just been hurting him more. He leans over and drops the lightest of kisses on Steve’s forehead. 

“Yes, my love,” he whispers. “I’ll stay. I promise.” And he kisses the tears away from Steve’s eyes. Now they’re happy tears - Steve’s smile is radiant. 

***** 

Ten minutes later, Steve and Bucky are still lying in bed on the wreckage of the fancy sheets. Bucky is spooning Steve, kissing his neck, and stroking his metal hand over Steve’s chest. They’re laughing and joking about the sheets and the house. 

“What’s up with this fuckin place?” Bucky says, looking around the minimally furnished, fully white/grey/black bedroom with a measure of contempt. “It’s like a movie set or something. Do people really live here?” 

Steve chuckles. “It belongs to one of Tony’s rich friends - he leant it to us this week ‘cause he owes Tony some favors,” he says. “He only comes here once a year, so he’s planning on selling it.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says, laying slow, wet kisses down Steve’s shoulder. “How much?” Steve shivers and said, “$2.6 million. Ya got an extra few mil lyin around, Buck?”

“Oh sure,” says Bucky, nipping lightly at Steve’s shoulder bone. He loves making Steve’s breath catch. “It’s in my other jeans pocket. But who would want to buy it? I mean, it’s huge, but it’s so unwelcoming and uncomfortable.”

“But hey, the mattress is good quality and nice for some things,” Steve laughs, turning his head to catch his partner’s lips in a sweet kiss. “Wonder how much we’ll owe to replace these sheets?” 

“Hey, it’s not our fault that this fancy-ass house has some seriously weak-ass sheets,” retorts Bucky. “If they’re gonna sell this as a luxury vacation place they should have sturdier linens that can take more of a beating.” 

Steve laughs and his stomach growls, the sound echoing around the cavernous bedchamber. Bucky pats Steve’s abs with his metal hand. 

“Now that you and the sheets have taken a beating, it seems like we need to feed the machine. Wanna go grab some food?” 

Steve turns over in a flash, grabs Bucky around the neck, and kisses him hard on the mouth. Then he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Race you to the shower,” he says, grinning. 

*****

“Oh God, this is so good,” moans Bucky as they stand outside Four Seas Ice Cream later that night, eating giant hot fudge sundaes. Steve says nothing but grunts in assent and shovels his sundae faster into his mouth. They’ve gone to Spanky’s in Hyannis for dinner and eaten two lobster rolls each, with an extra order of fries and two shrimp cocktails for starters, but they can still put away giant portions of ice cream. 

Steve finishes his ice cream, throws his bowl in the garbage, and says, “Damn that’s a good sundae. Fuck.” 

“Language, Captain America,” says Bucky, smirking. He finishes his own sundae a minute later. 

“My language is a tribute to the deliciousness,” Steve says, ignoring the group of girls nearby in scrunchies, cropped sweatshirts and Birks, giggling and trying (and failing) to be covert as they stared at him. He reaches out and punches Bucky in the shoulder. “Ready to go home?” he says. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” sighs Bucky as they saunter down South Main Street toward the Beach Road. “But it’s not really a home. I mean honestly...that house is impressive and all but it’s not very cozy. Too big for just the two of us. Five bedrooms. And seven bathrooms! What are gonna do with seven bathrooms, Stevie?”

“Guess we’ll just have to change up where we piss,” says Steve sarcastically. Bucky laughs, thinking just how little people really know Steve - they think he’s America’s #1 Boy Scout but underneath he’s still just that earthy, troublemaking little shit from Brooklyn. 

“At least it’s a beautiful night,” says Bucky, staring up at the sky. “Look at all the stars! You can’t see all those constellations from the Tower.” 

“Yeah, but I miss all the traffic and horns going off, don’t you?” says Steve, still sarcastic. Then his face softens as he looks up, and then at Bucky.

“It is beautiful,” he says softly, “and so are you.” He reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand as they walk down the road. 

An hour later Bucky exits the immense master bathroom after brushing his teeth. The bedroom is dark except for a candle and the glow of Steve’s phone positioned on Bucky’s pillow. Steve lies in his boxer briefs on his side on the ripped sheets, the light from the phone reflecting on his stupidly handsome face. His mouth is split into a big grin and his eyes are excited. 

“Wow,” says Bucky, taking in the scene, eyes dancing, sliding onto the huge bed and caressing Steve’s shoulder. “Is this all for me? How are we gonna use the phone, foreplay?” 

Steve says nothing, just grins even bigger and hands Bucky the phone. He takes it and looks at the screen, scrolls up and down for a minute, and turns to Steve, confused.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky says. “A cottage? In Provincetown?” 

“It’s for us,” Steve says. “It’s two bedrooms and one bathroom, perfect for two people. I texted Nat earlier and she checked VRBO and this place came available at the last minute, so she booked it for us. Starting tomorrow. Isn’t it great?” 

“But...but...what about this place?” Bucky looks around the room with a frown. 

“We’re leaving it,” Steve says patiently. “Tomorrow. Tony’s fixing it all up with his buddy, it’s not a problem. We’re going to stay in a little cottage, Buck, right near the beach. Check it out.” He holds up the phone and flips through the photos.

“Damn, look at that woodwork...” Bucky murmurs. “And that porch...and that cute kitchen...”

“It looks welcoming, right?” says Steve. “Comfortable? Just big enough for the two of us? And it’s right in Provincetown, so definitely less...family-friendly.”

Bucky looks up from the phone at Steve and his eyes soften. 

“It looks amazing, Stevie,” he says in a voice just above a whisper. “Thank you.” 

Steve reaches over and runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. 

“We didn’t start this vacation on the best foot,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make it better.” 

“Damn straight,” says Bucky, luxuriating under Steve’s touch. Then he looks at Steve with a crooked smile and a growing light in his eyes. “You know what else would make it better?”

Steve’s lips part and he says, “What’s that, Buck.” Bucky says nothing but leans over and gives Steve a searing kiss on the mouth, then trails his lips across his cheek to the skin just below his his ear.

“Making you come apart for me right now,” Bucky whispers, making his way down Steve’s neck with a series of small nips. 

Steve moans and says breathlessly, “So...right now...what I’m hearing you say...is that you want to completely destroy these sheets.”

Bucky grins wickedly and reaches down between Steve’s legs as he says, “We’ll take them with us tomorrow. As a souvenir.”