remix fic: There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (Captain America; Steve/Bucky; g)
There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (The Pleasure, The Privilege Is Mine)
Captain America; Steve/Bucky; g; 1,650 words
Steve reluctantly attends Tony's New Year's Eve party, but is glad he did when Natasha brings him a gift.
Remix of There's a light (at the end of this tunnel) by
seratonation. Thanks to
laurificus for looking it over. Title from the Smiths. This is set after Age of Ultron but ignores rumors about Civil War. Or read it at AO3.
~*~
There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (The Pleasure, The Privilege Is Mine)
Steve frowns at his reflection in the mirror. He looks fine--he's just shaved off the beard he'd been growing since the Avengers got back from their last mission in Peru, and his chin feels a little exposed without it. He's had a haircut and he's wearing the gray slacks and blue shirt Pepper got him for Christmas. He'd thought having someone as sophisticated and put together as Pepper buying him clothes would mean they'd fit more loosely than the ones he'd struggled to pick out for himself (even after five years in this new body, he has a hard time with finding things that fit right), but the pants are as slim as ever and he's always afraid he's going to lose a button or two if he breathes in too deeply. Still, the clothes are beautifully tailored by a little old man from Cosenza Tony swears by, and Steve has to admit they look great.
"If only everyone could see how vain Captain America really is," Sam teases. He bumps Steve's shoulder with his own and Steve rocks back as if Sam actually moved him. Occasionally, he misses being small enough for it to happen. "Let someone prettier have a chance at the mirror."
Even though Sam has his own mirror in his own bedroom here at Avengers tower, they've gotten used to being in each other's space all the time after months of sharing crappy motel rooms on the road trip to find Bucky, which ended in nothing but cold leads and dead ends. Steve had hated handing over the search to Sam while he went out and destroyed Hydra bases with the Avengers, and there hasn't been time to restart the hunt since Sokovia. They've been busy training the new team and putting out fires all over the world.
"Do I really have to do this?" he asks plaintively, sitting down onto the bed. It sinks beneath his weight and he thinks longingly of the much harder mattress he'd picked out for his bed at the Avengers training facility upstate. "I see most of these people at least once a week."
"Don't be such a Scrooge," Sam says. "You see us every day, but how long has it been since you saw Clint or Maria? I think even Fury might show up and scare the hell out of everyone as the ghost of Christmas yet to come or whatever."
Steve sighs and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes for a moment. He blinks up at Sam in supplication. "But we'll leave before midnight?"
Sam nods. "Before Stark can even get near a ball-drop joke." He gives Steve a hopeful half-grin. "You never know. You might have fun, though. You still remember how to do that?" Steve gestures to the sketchbook on his dresser, and Sam shakes his head. "Fun outside the pages of your comic book."
"Yeah, all right." Steve heaves himself to his feet. "You think Thor will be there?"
"Sure," Sam says. "Though if you get drunk on Asgardian liquor again, I'm leaving you where you fall."
Steve finally manages a real smile then. "Fair enough."
*
Once they get upstairs to the actual party, Steve is fine. He likes the people he works with, and enjoys seeing the people he hasn't seen in a while.
Sharon comes over while he's getting a beer and says, "Aunt Peggy loves the comic." She leans up and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepts with a blush. It's probably better that she turned him down when he asked her out, but he still feels a tiny pang at having yet another might-have-been with a Carter woman.
"It's, well," he fumbles for the words, even though he has absolutely not had any of Thor's Asgardian liquor yet; he's always awkward talking about his art, "it's not quite the truth?" So much of what Peggy had accomplished is still classified and probably will be until she's truly gone; the SSR material wasn't released when Natasha dumped SHIELD and Hydra's secrets out on to the internet. "But it's truthy." He doesn't have to exaggerate to make Peggy the biggest hero of them all. She did that all on her own.
Sharon laughs. "The truthiest. Stephen Colbert would approve."
"I have seen this Colbert's show," Thor says, joining them at the bar, Jane on his arm. "He is quite insightful for a buffoon. My father's court could use such a jester, I think."
"We could probably make that happen," Tony says, raising his drink in greeting.
"I like Agent Carter, too," says Jane, resting her hand on Steve's forearm for a moment. "I don't suppose you could add some lady scientists in an upcoming storyline?"
"Sure," Steve replies. Normally, he doesn't like discussing the stories before he's drawn and written them, but he thinks Peggy would appreciate what Jane's trying to do. "If you guys are going to be around the next few days, we could meet up for lunch, maybe hash out some ideas?"
"Consider it done," Thor says.
Jane grins and turns to Tony, who's already chattering at her about some new invention or other. It might as well be Greek to Steve. He only ever learned to swear in Greek, though Falsworth tried to teach him to read it once.
Thor plucks Steve's beer from his hand and sets it on the bar. "No need to drink that weak Midgardian brew, Steven. I've brought some mead I think you will like. It has a nice orange and clove flavor, very seasonal, and a kick like an eight-legged horse."
"Sounds great," Steve answers with a smile, and it tastes great too when he takes a sip.
*
Steve hasn't had enough mead to get more than a little tipsy, but the tops of his ears are warm and he feels that fuzziness around the edges of things that means he should probably slow down. It's already eleven forty-five, and so far Sam's kept his promise and steered Tony away every time the subject of the ball drop in Times Square comes up. Steve doesn't feel bad about telling them no when they asked him to appear on the show. He might be seventy years past his time, but he's still enough of a New Yorker to want to stay the hell away from Times Square on New Year's Eve, even if the cold isn't really a problem for him anymore.
He drains the dregs of his glass and is contemplating one more pint of Thor's mead when there's a commotion at the elevator, and then the crowd parts to let Natasha through. She's wearing a stunning green velvet dress and a crown of tinsel flowers in her hair. Every eye in the place is drawn to her, Steve's included, which is how he almost misses the man trailing after her in a dark blue suit, his hair tied back in a messy bun and a look on his face like he's just sucked a lemon. The look is familiar to Steve; it's one he's been seeing since he was eight, usually after he's gotten injured somehow.
Steve feels like all the breath has been punched out of him, and when he tries to suck in more air, he gets a lungful of mead instead, and starts coughing. Bucky's head comes up, like a wolf scenting prey, and his gaze narrows in on Steve, who suddenly feels like he's back in the sights of the Winter Soldier. He thumps a fist against his chest, as if that'll stop the coughing, and then Bucky's there, right hand on his back and left hand on his chest.
"Easy, Rogers," he murmurs softly. "Just breathe through it."
"Bucky," he wheezes, and it's like 1937 all over again. "What? How?"
"Natalia," Bucky says. "She always was a persistent little spider."
Natasha grins and waves at them, like she knows they're talking about her, before she sweeps into the crowd to pull Sam into a very enthusiastic kiss. The guests cheer them on, leaving Steve and Bucky alone long enough to sidle into an alcove hidden by a potted Christmas tree, all lit up in red and gold.
"How are you?" Steve asks. His voice is hoarse, but he doesn't start coughing again, so he counts it as a win.
"Better," Bucky says. "Not sure coming to this shindig was the best idea, but Natasha insisted. Said that how we spent New Year's would influence how we spent the coming year." He takes Steve's glass out of his hand and sets it on the edge of the planter. "And this is how I want to spend it." He slides one hand around the nape of Steve's neck--the metal is cool against his skin--and uses the other to tip Steve's chin down into a kiss.
Steve gasps again, stunned breathless again, and Bucky takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Steve's mouth. Steve's knees go watery and he clutches at the slippery lapels of Bucky's jacket. All he can think is that he hasn't had time to practice, like Natasha suggested, but Bucky doesn't seem to care.
Bucky pulls back just far enough to whisper, "Breathe," before he kisses Steve again, and this time, Steve is ready for him, meets him with a mouth that's open and eager, if not exactly skilled. They kiss for what could be forever (but turns out to be only a few minutes) before either of them pulls away again. Steve feels like his bones are melting and his body's on fire, but in the best possible way.
"Okay?" Bucky asks, ducking his head, surprisingly shy now, and Steve laughs.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah."
He pulls Bucky close again. He knows exactly how he wants to spend the next year--and all the years after that--and he's going to begin as he means to go on.
end
~*~
Feedback is always welcome.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/761783.html.
people have commented there.
Captain America; Steve/Bucky; g; 1,650 words
Steve reluctantly attends Tony's New Year's Eve party, but is glad he did when Natasha brings him a gift.
Remix of There's a light (at the end of this tunnel) by
seratonation. Thanks to
laurificus for looking it over. Title from the Smiths. This is set after Age of Ultron but ignores rumors about Civil War. Or read it at AO3.
~*~
There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (The Pleasure, The Privilege Is Mine)
Steve frowns at his reflection in the mirror. He looks fine--he's just shaved off the beard he'd been growing since the Avengers got back from their last mission in Peru, and his chin feels a little exposed without it. He's had a haircut and he's wearing the gray slacks and blue shirt Pepper got him for Christmas. He'd thought having someone as sophisticated and put together as Pepper buying him clothes would mean they'd fit more loosely than the ones he'd struggled to pick out for himself (even after five years in this new body, he has a hard time with finding things that fit right), but the pants are as slim as ever and he's always afraid he's going to lose a button or two if he breathes in too deeply. Still, the clothes are beautifully tailored by a little old man from Cosenza Tony swears by, and Steve has to admit they look great.
"If only everyone could see how vain Captain America really is," Sam teases. He bumps Steve's shoulder with his own and Steve rocks back as if Sam actually moved him. Occasionally, he misses being small enough for it to happen. "Let someone prettier have a chance at the mirror."
Even though Sam has his own mirror in his own bedroom here at Avengers tower, they've gotten used to being in each other's space all the time after months of sharing crappy motel rooms on the road trip to find Bucky, which ended in nothing but cold leads and dead ends. Steve had hated handing over the search to Sam while he went out and destroyed Hydra bases with the Avengers, and there hasn't been time to restart the hunt since Sokovia. They've been busy training the new team and putting out fires all over the world.
"Do I really have to do this?" he asks plaintively, sitting down onto the bed. It sinks beneath his weight and he thinks longingly of the much harder mattress he'd picked out for his bed at the Avengers training facility upstate. "I see most of these people at least once a week."
"Don't be such a Scrooge," Sam says. "You see us every day, but how long has it been since you saw Clint or Maria? I think even Fury might show up and scare the hell out of everyone as the ghost of Christmas yet to come or whatever."
Steve sighs and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes for a moment. He blinks up at Sam in supplication. "But we'll leave before midnight?"
Sam nods. "Before Stark can even get near a ball-drop joke." He gives Steve a hopeful half-grin. "You never know. You might have fun, though. You still remember how to do that?" Steve gestures to the sketchbook on his dresser, and Sam shakes his head. "Fun outside the pages of your comic book."
"Yeah, all right." Steve heaves himself to his feet. "You think Thor will be there?"
"Sure," Sam says. "Though if you get drunk on Asgardian liquor again, I'm leaving you where you fall."
Steve finally manages a real smile then. "Fair enough."
*
Once they get upstairs to the actual party, Steve is fine. He likes the people he works with, and enjoys seeing the people he hasn't seen in a while.
Sharon comes over while he's getting a beer and says, "Aunt Peggy loves the comic." She leans up and gives him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepts with a blush. It's probably better that she turned him down when he asked her out, but he still feels a tiny pang at having yet another might-have-been with a Carter woman.
"It's, well," he fumbles for the words, even though he has absolutely not had any of Thor's Asgardian liquor yet; he's always awkward talking about his art, "it's not quite the truth?" So much of what Peggy had accomplished is still classified and probably will be until she's truly gone; the SSR material wasn't released when Natasha dumped SHIELD and Hydra's secrets out on to the internet. "But it's truthy." He doesn't have to exaggerate to make Peggy the biggest hero of them all. She did that all on her own.
Sharon laughs. "The truthiest. Stephen Colbert would approve."
"I have seen this Colbert's show," Thor says, joining them at the bar, Jane on his arm. "He is quite insightful for a buffoon. My father's court could use such a jester, I think."
"We could probably make that happen," Tony says, raising his drink in greeting.
"I like Agent Carter, too," says Jane, resting her hand on Steve's forearm for a moment. "I don't suppose you could add some lady scientists in an upcoming storyline?"
"Sure," Steve replies. Normally, he doesn't like discussing the stories before he's drawn and written them, but he thinks Peggy would appreciate what Jane's trying to do. "If you guys are going to be around the next few days, we could meet up for lunch, maybe hash out some ideas?"
"Consider it done," Thor says.
Jane grins and turns to Tony, who's already chattering at her about some new invention or other. It might as well be Greek to Steve. He only ever learned to swear in Greek, though Falsworth tried to teach him to read it once.
Thor plucks Steve's beer from his hand and sets it on the bar. "No need to drink that weak Midgardian brew, Steven. I've brought some mead I think you will like. It has a nice orange and clove flavor, very seasonal, and a kick like an eight-legged horse."
"Sounds great," Steve answers with a smile, and it tastes great too when he takes a sip.
*
Steve hasn't had enough mead to get more than a little tipsy, but the tops of his ears are warm and he feels that fuzziness around the edges of things that means he should probably slow down. It's already eleven forty-five, and so far Sam's kept his promise and steered Tony away every time the subject of the ball drop in Times Square comes up. Steve doesn't feel bad about telling them no when they asked him to appear on the show. He might be seventy years past his time, but he's still enough of a New Yorker to want to stay the hell away from Times Square on New Year's Eve, even if the cold isn't really a problem for him anymore.
He drains the dregs of his glass and is contemplating one more pint of Thor's mead when there's a commotion at the elevator, and then the crowd parts to let Natasha through. She's wearing a stunning green velvet dress and a crown of tinsel flowers in her hair. Every eye in the place is drawn to her, Steve's included, which is how he almost misses the man trailing after her in a dark blue suit, his hair tied back in a messy bun and a look on his face like he's just sucked a lemon. The look is familiar to Steve; it's one he's been seeing since he was eight, usually after he's gotten injured somehow.
Steve feels like all the breath has been punched out of him, and when he tries to suck in more air, he gets a lungful of mead instead, and starts coughing. Bucky's head comes up, like a wolf scenting prey, and his gaze narrows in on Steve, who suddenly feels like he's back in the sights of the Winter Soldier. He thumps a fist against his chest, as if that'll stop the coughing, and then Bucky's there, right hand on his back and left hand on his chest.
"Easy, Rogers," he murmurs softly. "Just breathe through it."
"Bucky," he wheezes, and it's like 1937 all over again. "What? How?"
"Natalia," Bucky says. "She always was a persistent little spider."
Natasha grins and waves at them, like she knows they're talking about her, before she sweeps into the crowd to pull Sam into a very enthusiastic kiss. The guests cheer them on, leaving Steve and Bucky alone long enough to sidle into an alcove hidden by a potted Christmas tree, all lit up in red and gold.
"How are you?" Steve asks. His voice is hoarse, but he doesn't start coughing again, so he counts it as a win.
"Better," Bucky says. "Not sure coming to this shindig was the best idea, but Natasha insisted. Said that how we spent New Year's would influence how we spent the coming year." He takes Steve's glass out of his hand and sets it on the edge of the planter. "And this is how I want to spend it." He slides one hand around the nape of Steve's neck--the metal is cool against his skin--and uses the other to tip Steve's chin down into a kiss.
Steve gasps again, stunned breathless again, and Bucky takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Steve's mouth. Steve's knees go watery and he clutches at the slippery lapels of Bucky's jacket. All he can think is that he hasn't had time to practice, like Natasha suggested, but Bucky doesn't seem to care.
Bucky pulls back just far enough to whisper, "Breathe," before he kisses Steve again, and this time, Steve is ready for him, meets him with a mouth that's open and eager, if not exactly skilled. They kiss for what could be forever (but turns out to be only a few minutes) before either of them pulls away again. Steve feels like his bones are melting and his body's on fire, but in the best possible way.
"Okay?" Bucky asks, ducking his head, surprisingly shy now, and Steve laughs.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah."
He pulls Bucky close again. He knows exactly how he wants to spend the next year--and all the years after that--and he's going to begin as he means to go on.
end
~*~
Feedback is always welcome.
~*~
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/761783.html.
people have commented there.