FIC: Innocent When You Dream (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes) PG
Title: Innocent When You Dream
Summary: "Relax. I'm not after your virtue." Continuation of "Romeo Is Bleeding." Rentboy AU.
Fandom: Captain America Movieverse
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
Rating: PG
Words: ~800
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: This is an AU in which Bucky has sex for money, though there is no actual sex in this story. (AGAIN.)
Availability: LiveJournal || Dreamwidth || AO3
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: I offered up some wee ficlets in celebration of my 10,000th Tumblr post, and, to no one's surprise,
musesfool requested more rentboy!Bucky. So here it is!
Transformative Works Policy: Can be found here.
Originally Posted: October 27th, 2012
Innocent When You Dream
Bucky sleeps a lot the first three days, sprawled face down in the middle of Steve’s bed while Steve makes do with the couch. Then Steve is gone on Avengers business for the next two days, with the result that Bucky has been living with him for nearly a week before Steve realizes he actually doesn’t sleep in any kind of established pattern at all.
When global crime-fighting isn’t throwing his schedule into disarray, Steve gets up early and goes to bed late, rising refreshed and bright-eyed after only four or five hours. Bucky sleeps at random intervals, and for completely unpredictable lengths of time. Sometimes Steve wakes up at three in the morning to the sound of soft footsteps and the refrigerator being quietly raided, or the television in the bedroom painting a strip of soft blue light around the closed door. Once he even tip-toes into the bedroom in the late afternoon, nearly fifteen hours after Bucky went to sleep, and stands nervously over him until he’s sure he can see his chest rising and falling, checking to make sure he’s still alive.
But the dark smudges under his eyes start to fade, and the hollows behind his collarbones slowly fill in, and he stops looking so wary all the time. Being here is good for him. Steve wants it to stay that way.
Steve wakes in the dark, eyes snapping open before Bucky’s even out of the bedroom, his entire body tense and still for a second until he processes where he is and who is there with him. This time, Bucky doesn’t head for the kitchen, he heads right for Steve. Before Steve can even sit up or ask what’s wrong, Bucky’s lifting the blanket and crawling half on top of him, not even trying to avoid touching him. The couch isn’t big enough to bother.
He says, “Bucky-wait-” but he notices, distantly, that his arm is curling around Bucky’s waist, one of his knees slotting itself neatly between Bucky’s, so even if his brain is resistant, his body knows what it wants, or at least what Bucky wants. Bucky’s head settles on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve is aware that his own jaw is clenched tight, the muscles in his neck and upper back rigid and unyielding.
Bucky huffs a warm laugh against Steve’s throat as he slips his arm across Steve’s ribs. “Relax. I’m not after your virtue. I’m just used to having someone else in the bed with me most of the time,” he says. Steve’s stomach twists a little thinking of all the strange bodies Bucky’s molded himself against during the night. His hand tightens on Bucky’s hip before he can stop it, which Bucky takes as encouragement, letting out a low, “Mmmmm,” and burrowing in a little closer.
“All right,” Steve says, as if it isn’t already too late. As if he really has any say in the matter at all.
“Not that I’m not open to taking a run at your virtue,” Bucky adds, the curve of his smile riding the words. His mouth hasn’t touched Steve’s since that morning in the bathroom, an embarrassing moment of weakness that Steve’s brain can’t seem to leave alone, especially when Bucky’s voice sounds like this.
Steve doesn’t bother to reply. He’s getting better at not acting like he’s being gutted every time Bucky makes it clear he’s willing to-
Bucky slides his hand up under Steve’s T-shirt, and his thumb softly strokes across one of the ridges high on Steve’s stomach, the one closest to his ribs, over and over again. Steve forces himself to not move, not even twitch. Bucky doesn’t try to take it any further, and he doesn’t say anything else, just seems content to touch him a little. For a few minutes it’s absolute torture, and Steve imagines he’ll never be able to sleep, but after a bit Bucky’s breathing evens out and the touch slows, then stops.
Steve lets out a long, slow breath and finally allows himself to relax into the couch cushions, taking more of Bucky’s weight. Bucky shifts slightly in his sleep, all the delicate angles of him-hip, cheekbone, elbow-melting pleasantly into the places where Steve’s own body has made room for him. It feels wonderful. It feels a lot like something Steve could get used to, until sleeping any other way wouldn’t feel nearly as nice.
That’s a problem to worry about in the morning, he decides.
Right before he drifts off, he brings his hand up and slips his fingers into Bucky’s messy hair. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispers against Bucky’s forehead, but that’s another problem best tackled in the daylight, so Steve closes his eyes and sleeps, warm and happy and needed.
The End
Count von Count would like you to know that over at Dreamwidth this post has
comments! Ah ha ha ha ha!
Summary: "Relax. I'm not after your virtue." Continuation of "Romeo Is Bleeding." Rentboy AU.
Fandom: Captain America Movieverse
Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
Rating: PG
Words: ~800
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: This is an AU in which Bucky has sex for money, though there is no actual sex in this story. (AGAIN.)
Availability: LiveJournal || Dreamwidth || AO3
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: I offered up some wee ficlets in celebration of my 10,000th Tumblr post, and, to no one's surprise,
musesfool requested more rentboy!Bucky. So here it is!
Transformative Works Policy: Can be found here.
Originally Posted: October 27th, 2012
Innocent When You Dream
Bucky sleeps a lot the first three days, sprawled face down in the middle of Steve’s bed while Steve makes do with the couch. Then Steve is gone on Avengers business for the next two days, with the result that Bucky has been living with him for nearly a week before Steve realizes he actually doesn’t sleep in any kind of established pattern at all.
When global crime-fighting isn’t throwing his schedule into disarray, Steve gets up early and goes to bed late, rising refreshed and bright-eyed after only four or five hours. Bucky sleeps at random intervals, and for completely unpredictable lengths of time. Sometimes Steve wakes up at three in the morning to the sound of soft footsteps and the refrigerator being quietly raided, or the television in the bedroom painting a strip of soft blue light around the closed door. Once he even tip-toes into the bedroom in the late afternoon, nearly fifteen hours after Bucky went to sleep, and stands nervously over him until he’s sure he can see his chest rising and falling, checking to make sure he’s still alive.
But the dark smudges under his eyes start to fade, and the hollows behind his collarbones slowly fill in, and he stops looking so wary all the time. Being here is good for him. Steve wants it to stay that way.
Steve wakes in the dark, eyes snapping open before Bucky’s even out of the bedroom, his entire body tense and still for a second until he processes where he is and who is there with him. This time, Bucky doesn’t head for the kitchen, he heads right for Steve. Before Steve can even sit up or ask what’s wrong, Bucky’s lifting the blanket and crawling half on top of him, not even trying to avoid touching him. The couch isn’t big enough to bother.
He says, “Bucky-wait-” but he notices, distantly, that his arm is curling around Bucky’s waist, one of his knees slotting itself neatly between Bucky’s, so even if his brain is resistant, his body knows what it wants, or at least what Bucky wants. Bucky’s head settles on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve is aware that his own jaw is clenched tight, the muscles in his neck and upper back rigid and unyielding.
Bucky huffs a warm laugh against Steve’s throat as he slips his arm across Steve’s ribs. “Relax. I’m not after your virtue. I’m just used to having someone else in the bed with me most of the time,” he says. Steve’s stomach twists a little thinking of all the strange bodies Bucky’s molded himself against during the night. His hand tightens on Bucky’s hip before he can stop it, which Bucky takes as encouragement, letting out a low, “Mmmmm,” and burrowing in a little closer.
“All right,” Steve says, as if it isn’t already too late. As if he really has any say in the matter at all.
“Not that I’m not open to taking a run at your virtue,” Bucky adds, the curve of his smile riding the words. His mouth hasn’t touched Steve’s since that morning in the bathroom, an embarrassing moment of weakness that Steve’s brain can’t seem to leave alone, especially when Bucky’s voice sounds like this.
Steve doesn’t bother to reply. He’s getting better at not acting like he’s being gutted every time Bucky makes it clear he’s willing to-
Bucky slides his hand up under Steve’s T-shirt, and his thumb softly strokes across one of the ridges high on Steve’s stomach, the one closest to his ribs, over and over again. Steve forces himself to not move, not even twitch. Bucky doesn’t try to take it any further, and he doesn’t say anything else, just seems content to touch him a little. For a few minutes it’s absolute torture, and Steve imagines he’ll never be able to sleep, but after a bit Bucky’s breathing evens out and the touch slows, then stops.
Steve lets out a long, slow breath and finally allows himself to relax into the couch cushions, taking more of Bucky’s weight. Bucky shifts slightly in his sleep, all the delicate angles of him-hip, cheekbone, elbow-melting pleasantly into the places where Steve’s own body has made room for him. It feels wonderful. It feels a lot like something Steve could get used to, until sleeping any other way wouldn’t feel nearly as nice.
That’s a problem to worry about in the morning, he decides.
Right before he drifts off, he brings his hand up and slips his fingers into Bucky’s messy hair. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispers against Bucky’s forehead, but that’s another problem best tackled in the daylight, so Steve closes his eyes and sleeps, warm and happy and needed.
The End
Count von Count would like you to know that over at Dreamwidth this post has
comments! Ah ha ha ha ha!