fic: One O'Clock Jump (Young Avengers; Kate Bishop & Bucky Barnes; gen)
One O'Clock Jump
Young Avengers; Kate & Bucky (Kate/Eli); pg; 1,795 words
It was just like the dance lessons Kate's parents had insisted on when she was thirteen, except Bucky was a lot taller and better looking than Cody Pearson had been.
Thanks to
snacky for encouraging me and looking this over.
~*~
One O'Clock Jump
"A team-building exercise?" Bucky actually stopped what he was doing to turn and look at her in surprise. Kate tried not to stare at the way his tank top clung to his sweaty chest. The heavy bag swung back and hit him, but he didn't move.
Kate lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely; just because she had a stupid crush on him didn't mean she was going to stammer and act coy. "More like a morale-building exercise." She deflated a little. "I thought we should go skydiving, but apparently, being able to fly takes the fun out of that."
"And you came to see me because?" Bucky pushed the sweaty hair off his forehead and eyed her skeptically.
"I need your help."
"Barton can't take care of," he made a dismissive gesture, "whatever it is?"
Kate made a low, irritated noise that sounded too much like Marge Simpson at her most disapproving, and then cleared her throat. "Billy and Teddy bought us all tickets for Midsummer Night Swing."
Bucky raised an eyebrow that said more eloquently than words that he had no idea what that was, or, more importantly, what it had to do with him.
"I don't know how to swing dance," Kate blurted.
"Steve--"
"Said to ask you. Said you were the one who taught him."
"Fuck."
"Come on, use your powers for good," she said, and then bit her lip at his nearly imperceptible flinch; if she hadn't been watching him so closely she'd never have seen it. "I mean--"
He waved his right hand, absolving her. "Fine. Steve's probably going to be stuck with Eli, anyway."
Kate grinned and said nothing. She'd finally learned that sometimes it was better not to gloat.
*
He led her through the apartment, calling out for Steve.
"He was on his way out when I got here," she said. She hadn't asked, because he was Captain America and even she respected his boundaries, but it seemed a little weird that he was leaving her and Bucky in his apartment. Unless Bucky was still living here--Eli'd said he'd spent a lot of time there while Steve was gone, and he certainly didn't seem like he was concerned about being in someone else's space. Then again, they'd lived together during the war, and that wasn't nearly as long ago for them as it was for everyone else.
Bucky muttered something in Russian that was probably a curse. "You want some water?" He filled out a glass and when she shook her head no, he drank it himself. When he was done, he rinsed the glass out and put it on the drainboard. "All right," he said, and she thought there was some amusement mixed in with the resignation, "let's get this dog and pony show started."
She'd loaded up her iPod with some Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman before she'd come, but once they were in the living room, she saw there was no need.
"I can't believe you still have records," she said, watching him flip through a crate full of albums, though it wasn't really all that hard to believe. "Do they even make record players anymore?"
Bucky snorted and, having found what he was looking for, walked over to Steve's stereo. He slid the record out of its sleeve, placed it gently on the turntable, and dropped the needle. There was a soft hiss from the speakers before the sound of--she glanced at the album cover--Count Basie's Orchestra poured forth.
"Oh, yeah. That's the stuff." Bucky closed his eyes and smiled. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him smile before. It made him look younger. It made her stomach lurch a little, the way it did sometimes right before she walked onstage for a concert, or when Eli leaned in to kiss her. She concentrated on the music instead, listening for the bass line, memorizing it so she could try to play it at home, on her cello. He opened his eyes and caught her looking. "Good, huh?"
She smiled. "Yeah."
"Music today." He shook his head. "You kids listen to crap."
"You sound like my grandfather."
"I should," he replied. "He's probably my age."
Younger, she thought, but didn't say. "Come on, Grandpa," she said, crooking her fingers, "show me what you've got."
He laughed again. It was a sound she thought she could get used to. Too bad he didn't seem to do it very often.
"All right, let's do this." He took two steps towards her and held out his left hand. She swallowed hard and took it. The metal was cool against her skin. "Like this," he said, shifting it so their fingers were hooked together but not entwined. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and she shivered. If he felt it, he gave no sign. He took another step, closing the gap between them, and put his right hand on her back, splayed out between her shoulder blades, radiating heat. It was just like the dance lessons her parents had insisted on when she was thirteen, except Bucky was a lot taller and better looking than Cody Pearson had been.
She inhaled and squared her shoulders, then rested her hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm and a little sweaty, which was good, because hopefully it meant he wouldn't notice that her palm was sweaty, too.
The music was loud and rollicking and the beat made her want to swing her hips, so that was a good start.
"Okay," he said. His breath smelled like stale coffee and she tried not to wrinkle her nose. "You're gonna do what I do, only reversed, okay?"
She watched his feet move and tried to mirror him. After the first few steps, he moved his hand from her shoulder to tip up her chin. The touch made heat flare up in its wake.
"Look at me, not at your feet."
"Okay."
He was good, more graceful than she'd expected, which was stupid, because she'd seen him fight and knew he could move. There was an ease of motion, a looseness in his hips she tried to replicate.
"That's pretty good," he said, giving her a small smile. She'd seen more of his smile today than she had in the entire time she'd known him.
"You should come," she said as he spun her under his arm.
He snorted again. "I've done my time at the kids' table, Kate."
"No, I mean--Wasn't Natasha a dancer? Maybe she would enjoy it."
His smile disappeared for a second and then came back, tighter around the edges. "Maybe," he said, but it sounded like no.
Interesting. She liked superhero gossip as much as the next person, but she had a feeling speculating out loud on his relationship with Black Widow was probably not the smartest thing she could do, so she kept her mouth shut and focused on the music.
He was a good partner, letting her know by how he moved what he wanted her to do. "You up for something a little more exciting?" he asked after she felt like she'd gotten the hang of it.
She wasn't sure what he meant but she was game. "Sure." And she found herself being lifted and spun over his shoulder. "Uh, I don't think Eli is going to try that any time soon," she said, laughing breathlessly when he set her down.
He laughed and she felt proud that she'd been able to get him to do that, especially after inadvertently bringing the mood down earlier.
"Probably not. Steve was always kind of sedate on the dance floor. Bit of a wallflower, you know."
She snickered at the thought of Captain America as a wallflower. "You were a real ladies' man, though, right?"
"Oh yeah, the dames loved me," he said mockingly, though she was willing to bet he'd done all right in that department.
"'Dames' is definitely better than 'broads,'" she told him, letting him fling her out into another spin and then reel her back in, "but I can't figure out if it's better or worse than 'chicks.'"
He huffed a laugh. "How about 'dolls'?"
She wrinkled her nose. "No, that's creepy."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm here to help with all your non-offensive twenty-first century slang needs."
He hummed noncommittally and whirled her around the floor. He didn't try to lift her again, which was a shame. She'd enjoyed it after the shock wore off.
The tempo shifted as a different song began, even faster this time, and she had to concentrate on not stepping on his feet. But he held her gaze, his fingers quick and warm under her chin when she tried to look down at her feet. There was something intimate about it, about letting him guide her with the pressure of his fingers on her hand or waist, and she found herself caught up in it.
The music ended unexpectedly, or maybe he was expecting it, but Kate wasn't, and she found herself being dipped over his arm. Neither of them was breathing heavily but there was something in his expression that made her heart beat a little faster. A new song started, this one slower, full of the low ache of a saxophone, and he slowly straightened her up. He didn't let go, though, and she felt the need to lick her suddenly dry lips.
"I think you'll do fine," he said, his voice a little rough, and a little thrill of triumph ran through her, that maybe he'd felt it, too.
"Thanks." Her voice was steady, though her pulse was racing. She swayed towards him and he pulled away. The spot on her back where he'd been holding her felt cold.
"Eli won't know what hit him."
Kate took a deep breath and reminded herself that she loved her boyfriend, even if she had a hard time letting him know it. "He rarely does."
That surprised another laugh out of Bucky. "Good strategy. Always keep him on his toes."
"I'll keep that in mind," she answered. She touched his shoulder gently. "Thanks, Bucky."
"Someone's gotta teach you kids the important stuff," he said gruffly. "Barton sure as hell couldn't have done it."
She laughed.
Kate didn't put on her headphones on her subway ride home. Instead, she found herself humming "One O'Clock Jump."
*
"Wow," Eli said when they met up at Lincoln Center, "you look great." His hand was warm and sure against Kate's cheek when he kissed her hello, and she gave him a small smile as heat blossomed through her at his touch.
"You're not so bad yourself," she answered, taking his hand and leading him onto the dance floor. "Come on, let's show these bozos how it's done."
~*~
Notes: Midsummer Night Swing is a real thing they do at Lincoln Center in the summer. I listened to One O'Clock Jump and Jersey Bounce a lot while writing.
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/368272.html.
people have commented there.
Young Avengers; Kate & Bucky (Kate/Eli); pg; 1,795 words
It was just like the dance lessons Kate's parents had insisted on when she was thirteen, except Bucky was a lot taller and better looking than Cody Pearson had been.
Thanks to
snacky for encouraging me and looking this over.
~*~
One O'Clock Jump
"A team-building exercise?" Bucky actually stopped what he was doing to turn and look at her in surprise. Kate tried not to stare at the way his tank top clung to his sweaty chest. The heavy bag swung back and hit him, but he didn't move.
Kate lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely; just because she had a stupid crush on him didn't mean she was going to stammer and act coy. "More like a morale-building exercise." She deflated a little. "I thought we should go skydiving, but apparently, being able to fly takes the fun out of that."
"And you came to see me because?" Bucky pushed the sweaty hair off his forehead and eyed her skeptically.
"I need your help."
"Barton can't take care of," he made a dismissive gesture, "whatever it is?"
Kate made a low, irritated noise that sounded too much like Marge Simpson at her most disapproving, and then cleared her throat. "Billy and Teddy bought us all tickets for Midsummer Night Swing."
Bucky raised an eyebrow that said more eloquently than words that he had no idea what that was, or, more importantly, what it had to do with him.
"I don't know how to swing dance," Kate blurted.
"Steve--"
"Said to ask you. Said you were the one who taught him."
"Fuck."
"Come on, use your powers for good," she said, and then bit her lip at his nearly imperceptible flinch; if she hadn't been watching him so closely she'd never have seen it. "I mean--"
He waved his right hand, absolving her. "Fine. Steve's probably going to be stuck with Eli, anyway."
Kate grinned and said nothing. She'd finally learned that sometimes it was better not to gloat.
*
He led her through the apartment, calling out for Steve.
"He was on his way out when I got here," she said. She hadn't asked, because he was Captain America and even she respected his boundaries, but it seemed a little weird that he was leaving her and Bucky in his apartment. Unless Bucky was still living here--Eli'd said he'd spent a lot of time there while Steve was gone, and he certainly didn't seem like he was concerned about being in someone else's space. Then again, they'd lived together during the war, and that wasn't nearly as long ago for them as it was for everyone else.
Bucky muttered something in Russian that was probably a curse. "You want some water?" He filled out a glass and when she shook her head no, he drank it himself. When he was done, he rinsed the glass out and put it on the drainboard. "All right," he said, and she thought there was some amusement mixed in with the resignation, "let's get this dog and pony show started."
She'd loaded up her iPod with some Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman before she'd come, but once they were in the living room, she saw there was no need.
"I can't believe you still have records," she said, watching him flip through a crate full of albums, though it wasn't really all that hard to believe. "Do they even make record players anymore?"
Bucky snorted and, having found what he was looking for, walked over to Steve's stereo. He slid the record out of its sleeve, placed it gently on the turntable, and dropped the needle. There was a soft hiss from the speakers before the sound of--she glanced at the album cover--Count Basie's Orchestra poured forth.
"Oh, yeah. That's the stuff." Bucky closed his eyes and smiled. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him smile before. It made him look younger. It made her stomach lurch a little, the way it did sometimes right before she walked onstage for a concert, or when Eli leaned in to kiss her. She concentrated on the music instead, listening for the bass line, memorizing it so she could try to play it at home, on her cello. He opened his eyes and caught her looking. "Good, huh?"
She smiled. "Yeah."
"Music today." He shook his head. "You kids listen to crap."
"You sound like my grandfather."
"I should," he replied. "He's probably my age."
Younger, she thought, but didn't say. "Come on, Grandpa," she said, crooking her fingers, "show me what you've got."
He laughed again. It was a sound she thought she could get used to. Too bad he didn't seem to do it very often.
"All right, let's do this." He took two steps towards her and held out his left hand. She swallowed hard and took it. The metal was cool against her skin. "Like this," he said, shifting it so their fingers were hooked together but not entwined. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and she shivered. If he felt it, he gave no sign. He took another step, closing the gap between them, and put his right hand on her back, splayed out between her shoulder blades, radiating heat. It was just like the dance lessons her parents had insisted on when she was thirteen, except Bucky was a lot taller and better looking than Cody Pearson had been.
She inhaled and squared her shoulders, then rested her hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm and a little sweaty, which was good, because hopefully it meant he wouldn't notice that her palm was sweaty, too.
The music was loud and rollicking and the beat made her want to swing her hips, so that was a good start.
"Okay," he said. His breath smelled like stale coffee and she tried not to wrinkle her nose. "You're gonna do what I do, only reversed, okay?"
She watched his feet move and tried to mirror him. After the first few steps, he moved his hand from her shoulder to tip up her chin. The touch made heat flare up in its wake.
"Look at me, not at your feet."
"Okay."
He was good, more graceful than she'd expected, which was stupid, because she'd seen him fight and knew he could move. There was an ease of motion, a looseness in his hips she tried to replicate.
"That's pretty good," he said, giving her a small smile. She'd seen more of his smile today than she had in the entire time she'd known him.
"You should come," she said as he spun her under his arm.
He snorted again. "I've done my time at the kids' table, Kate."
"No, I mean--Wasn't Natasha a dancer? Maybe she would enjoy it."
His smile disappeared for a second and then came back, tighter around the edges. "Maybe," he said, but it sounded like no.
Interesting. She liked superhero gossip as much as the next person, but she had a feeling speculating out loud on his relationship with Black Widow was probably not the smartest thing she could do, so she kept her mouth shut and focused on the music.
He was a good partner, letting her know by how he moved what he wanted her to do. "You up for something a little more exciting?" he asked after she felt like she'd gotten the hang of it.
She wasn't sure what he meant but she was game. "Sure." And she found herself being lifted and spun over his shoulder. "Uh, I don't think Eli is going to try that any time soon," she said, laughing breathlessly when he set her down.
He laughed and she felt proud that she'd been able to get him to do that, especially after inadvertently bringing the mood down earlier.
"Probably not. Steve was always kind of sedate on the dance floor. Bit of a wallflower, you know."
She snickered at the thought of Captain America as a wallflower. "You were a real ladies' man, though, right?"
"Oh yeah, the dames loved me," he said mockingly, though she was willing to bet he'd done all right in that department.
"'Dames' is definitely better than 'broads,'" she told him, letting him fling her out into another spin and then reel her back in, "but I can't figure out if it's better or worse than 'chicks.'"
He huffed a laugh. "How about 'dolls'?"
She wrinkled her nose. "No, that's creepy."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm here to help with all your non-offensive twenty-first century slang needs."
He hummed noncommittally and whirled her around the floor. He didn't try to lift her again, which was a shame. She'd enjoyed it after the shock wore off.
The tempo shifted as a different song began, even faster this time, and she had to concentrate on not stepping on his feet. But he held her gaze, his fingers quick and warm under her chin when she tried to look down at her feet. There was something intimate about it, about letting him guide her with the pressure of his fingers on her hand or waist, and she found herself caught up in it.
The music ended unexpectedly, or maybe he was expecting it, but Kate wasn't, and she found herself being dipped over his arm. Neither of them was breathing heavily but there was something in his expression that made her heart beat a little faster. A new song started, this one slower, full of the low ache of a saxophone, and he slowly straightened her up. He didn't let go, though, and she felt the need to lick her suddenly dry lips.
"I think you'll do fine," he said, his voice a little rough, and a little thrill of triumph ran through her, that maybe he'd felt it, too.
"Thanks." Her voice was steady, though her pulse was racing. She swayed towards him and he pulled away. The spot on her back where he'd been holding her felt cold.
"Eli won't know what hit him."
Kate took a deep breath and reminded herself that she loved her boyfriend, even if she had a hard time letting him know it. "He rarely does."
That surprised another laugh out of Bucky. "Good strategy. Always keep him on his toes."
"I'll keep that in mind," she answered. She touched his shoulder gently. "Thanks, Bucky."
"Someone's gotta teach you kids the important stuff," he said gruffly. "Barton sure as hell couldn't have done it."
She laughed.
Kate didn't put on her headphones on her subway ride home. Instead, she found herself humming "One O'Clock Jump."
*
"Wow," Eli said when they met up at Lincoln Center, "you look great." His hand was warm and sure against Kate's cheek when he kissed her hello, and she gave him a small smile as heat blossomed through her at his touch.
"You're not so bad yourself," she answered, taking his hand and leading him onto the dance floor. "Come on, let's show these bozos how it's done."
~*~
Notes: Midsummer Night Swing is a real thing they do at Lincoln Center in the summer. I listened to One O'Clock Jump and Jersey Bounce a lot while writing.
~*~
Feedback is always appreciated.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/368272.html.
people have commented there.