good old-fashioned lover boy
Jan. 8th, 2024 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
semi_stableThe last thing that Bucky remembers with any clarity is the harsh burn of cheap whiskey in his throat as Steve walked away from him after another failed double date. Trying to set Steve up with girls made him feel a bit like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a mountain, like he's a little insane, trying the same thing over and over again and hoping for different results.
He'd tried again, and really thought he had something this time. Brenda was a small bookish girl, with glasses and a bouncy red ponytail, and her friend Claire was known for being, well-- money spent buying her drinks wasn't going to go to waste, from what he's heard. Bucky had charmed them both into coming to the dance hall and then drug Steve along with a strong arm around his shoulders, like he had so many times before, but it didn't matter.
Steve's lack of confidence when it came to women was all too apparent, especially to the girls that Bucky tried to set him up with, and he always threw in the towel before anything could ever happen. For some reason, Bucky kept trying. He was Sisyphus and Steve's virginity was that fucking boulder.
Bucky would take it himself, except that wasn't an option. It wouldn't ever be an option, despite what his traitorous imagination got up to.
So, Steve left and Bucky drank. He danced with Brenda and with Claire, then drank some more. And then more, because he's twenty years old and what was left of his meager paycheck wass burning a hole in his pocket, and he doesn't have any damn sense yet.
That led to the present moment-- Bucky waking up in a very comfortable bed with a dull ache in his head and a mouth full of cotton. He groans and rolls away from the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, curling up under the covers to ward off the chill. He stays like that for a few moments until his eyes pop open and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, scanning the unfamiliar bedroom. It looks like something out of picture show, all plush velvet and gold accents, and Bucky frowns. As far as he knew, Brenda and Claire were working class like him. He'd picked them up at a brownstone just down the street, as modest and plain as his own home.
The bedding is plush and soft, and Bucky lifts the duvet to confirm that he at least has underwear on. It wouldn't be the first time that he's woken up somewhere strange after a rough night, but never somewhere like this. A glance next to him tells him that he didn't sleep in the bed alone, given the rumpled bedding and the dented pillow. He reaches out to put his hand on the sheets, finding them still warm, and then lifts his head when he hears approaching footsteps.
Morning afters are always kind of awkward and Bucky sighs, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face.
"Here we go."
He'd tried again, and really thought he had something this time. Brenda was a small bookish girl, with glasses and a bouncy red ponytail, and her friend Claire was known for being, well-- money spent buying her drinks wasn't going to go to waste, from what he's heard. Bucky had charmed them both into coming to the dance hall and then drug Steve along with a strong arm around his shoulders, like he had so many times before, but it didn't matter.
Steve's lack of confidence when it came to women was all too apparent, especially to the girls that Bucky tried to set him up with, and he always threw in the towel before anything could ever happen. For some reason, Bucky kept trying. He was Sisyphus and Steve's virginity was that fucking boulder.
Bucky would take it himself, except that wasn't an option. It wouldn't ever be an option, despite what his traitorous imagination got up to.
So, Steve left and Bucky drank. He danced with Brenda and with Claire, then drank some more. And then more, because he's twenty years old and what was left of his meager paycheck wass burning a hole in his pocket, and he doesn't have any damn sense yet.
That led to the present moment-- Bucky waking up in a very comfortable bed with a dull ache in his head and a mouth full of cotton. He groans and rolls away from the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, curling up under the covers to ward off the chill. He stays like that for a few moments until his eyes pop open and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, scanning the unfamiliar bedroom. It looks like something out of picture show, all plush velvet and gold accents, and Bucky frowns. As far as he knew, Brenda and Claire were working class like him. He'd picked them up at a brownstone just down the street, as modest and plain as his own home.
The bedding is plush and soft, and Bucky lifts the duvet to confirm that he at least has underwear on. It wouldn't be the first time that he's woken up somewhere strange after a rough night, but never somewhere like this. A glance next to him tells him that he didn't sleep in the bed alone, given the rumpled bedding and the dented pillow. He reaches out to put his hand on the sheets, finding them still warm, and then lifts his head when he hears approaching footsteps.
Morning afters are always kind of awkward and Bucky sighs, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face.
"Here we go."
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Date: 2024-04-07 07:00 pm (UTC)"Generally, I prefer to hire people to make my meals, but I can make eggs," he admitted, opening the refrigerator and taking out a carton. There was already bread in the toaster, and fresh, ripe strawberries to be sliced.
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Date: 2024-04-08 11:09 pm (UTC)"Oh, wow," Bucky breathes out, feeling his cheeks heat up as he ducks his head to hide a smile. He glances around on instinct, but it seems to be just them in the house. As far as he knows, no one is going to come running through the door and shout at them for being perverts, so Bucky doesn't feel the need to try to lie about who he is, even to himself. Maybe even especially not to himself. Loki seems to have no qualms with it, seems perfectly at ease with himself, and Bucky wants that, too. He's been wanting that for some time and now, here in this absurdly strange situation, he'll let himself have it.
"I think I like it when you flirt with me," he admits, smiling at Loki as he heads over to the chair Loki has gestured to. He hovers near it for a moment and then looks around at the very modern looking kitchen, and then sips from his coffee again before setting the mug down. "I'd rather help. I mean-- if that's okay? I'm not used to being waited on. You can put me to work."
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Date: 2024-04-11 02:14 am (UTC)"Still over easy?" He asked, depressing the toaster lever with another flicker of magic as he melted a bit of butter in a frying pan on the stove.
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Date: 2024-04-11 06:38 am (UTC)Before he can ponder too much about what Loki meant, things around the kitchen start to move on their own. It startles Bucky for a second, but then he follows the faint green shine that seems to curl around Loki for a moment before fading away. It should have been frightening, but when he looks at Loki, standing there barefoot and cracking eggs into a pan, he finds it hard to muster up any sort of fear.
Loki knows how he likes his eggs, and he just directed Bucky to a drawer full of knives even in such a strange situation. He nods as he steps forward and extracts a knife, and then clears his throat.
“Yeah, please,” he croaks out, then starts to slice up the strawberries in front of him. It feels like stepping into another life, one of domestic bliss, one that up until a few hours ago, he would have thought entirely impossible. He feels almost like an imposter, and he supposes that he is. This is his life but it isn’t his.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it were.
Bucky finishes cutting the strawberries quick enough, used to helping his mother prep for meals. Once he’s done, he turns and stares at Loki’s back, gaze lingering on the soft sweep of dark curls at the nape of his neck. He feels the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him there and he gives into it without much thought, letting his fingertips sweep along the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
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Date: 2024-04-16 02:02 am (UTC)"Would you like to take those to the table?" He asked, gesturing to the tray and sliced strawberries.
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Date: 2024-05-07 02:44 am (UTC)He’s distracted by a shuffling of small dishes and he huffs out a laugh as he drops his hand, twisting away to reach out for the tray. He adds the berries and carries it over to the dining table, setting it near the head of it and then turning to look at Loki again, head tipped curiously to the side.
“I’m still not terribly convinced that this isn’t just some very nice dream,” he admits with a bashful laugh. “I’ll wake up at home any minute now with a kid kneeing me in the kidney.”