good old-fashioned lover boy

[semi_stable]

The 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."

Comments

[thewrongpath]

Loki didn't always rely on magic to do things, and that morning, he'd gone downstairs to start the coffee and to let out the dog, padding on bare feet through the brownstone he and Sylvie shared. Two mugs held skillfully in one hand, Loki scrolled idly through the news feed on his phone with the other. His green, silk robe was unbelted and hung open, beneath it only a pair of black boxer briefs. Bopp trailed ahead of him, her nails clacking along the polished wood floors.

As she entered the bedroom ahead of him, Bopp let out a sharp bark— one that sounded excited and perhaps a bit confused. Frowning, he dropped his phone into the pocket of his robe and stepped through the door. "Ah," he said to her, observing the young man lounging in his bed with an arch of his brow. "I see."

[semi_stable]

A cute dog trots into the room and Bucky grins, but then the dog is followed by a grossly attractive man and Bucky goes very still, eyes widening as an anxious flush rolls down from the top of his head.

All right, yeah, sometimes Bucky fucks men. It’s a thing that he tries not to think about, outside of the brief window of time where it’s actively happening, and he’s certainly never stayed for a nightcap, let alone the entire night.

Maybe he’s jumping to conclusions and that isn’t what happened here, but the guy’s in his underwear, dark hair tousled, and it paints a pretty clear picture.

“Oh. Hi,” Bucky says with a flush, voice nearly cracking. He swallows hard and pats at the covers, then reaches up to drag his hand through his messy hair. “I should, uh— probably get out of your hair.”

[thewrongpath]

"Well, I suppose that answers my first question," he said lightly, padding the rest of the way into the room.

"There's no rush," Loki assured him. With a faint smile curving one corner of his lips, Loki handed over a mug of coffee, prepared to Bucky's liking. His own cup in hand, he sat down on the edge of the bed, one leg drawn beneath him, his body angled towards the young man currently fluttering nervously among the sheets they'd rumpled only hours earlier.

He looked terribly young. Loki wasn't particularly skilled at judging the age of humans, but he feared that Bucky looked barely out of his adolescence.

[semi_stable]

“Does it?” Bucky feels a little dumbstruck as the man approaches, so much so that even though he’d sat up with the intention to grab his pants and flee, he finds himself unable to move. The guy’s maybe twice his age, if that, and movie star handsome. It feels like his face should be in black and white. Technicolor is far too stimulating.

“You’re not from around here, I gather,” Bucky says in a slightly reedy voice, his own accent thick on his clumsy tongue. The guy sits down on the bed and Bucky blushes like a school girl, blinking in surprise as the guy holds a cup of coffee out to him. He takes it because he doesn’t know what else to do, and then just kind of stares at the guy, finally allowing himself to really meet his gaze. He’s so at ease with himself, with all of this, and Bucky can’t help but to marvel at it.

“I— uh, don’t usually—“ He cuts himself off and takes a sip from the mug mostly just to stall, then does a bit of a double take as he swallows. “Christ, that’s good coffee. You made this?”

[thewrongpath]

"It does," he answered calmly, despite a feeling of some disquiet. He knew that, most likely, this was simply a trick of Darrow's making. A temporary inconvenience. Still, having that face peer back at him without a shred of recognition settled uncomfortably in his chest.

"I'm not. Incidentally, neither are you."

At the young man's charmingly earnest reaction to his first sip, Loki stifled a warm smile. "I'm glad you like it." Not wanting to frighten him needlessly, Loki leaned over to set his own mug down on the beside table, instead of ridding himself of it through magic.

Bopp, unable to contain herself any longer, jumped onto the bed as well, shuffling closer hesitantly, her tail wiggling excitedly and her head held low.

[semi_stable]

“Me? I’m Brooklyn born and raised,” Bucky replies, leaning back a little as the man leans across him to set his coffee down. He even smells good, and Bucky feels a wild urge to lean in and press his mouth to the pale skin of his neck. It’s a real shame that he doesn’t remember any of it.

Maybe he could try to angle for another round. It’s not something he’s ever done in the harsh light of day but a part of him still wants to, even as another part wants to run out the front door.

The dog distracts him from his inner turmoil and he laughs, setting his own mug down as he twists to give the dog a scratch behind the ears. It yips at him and Bucky laughs, high and bright, as he reaches for the tag around its neck.

“Bopp, huh? You’ve got some pretty good digs here.” He gives the dog another pat and glances over her head at the man sitting on the other side of him. “Your owner seems like a nice enough fella. Very hospitable.”

[thewrongpath]

"Ah, yes, but you see, darling," Loki stood, crossing the room and throwing open the curtains to give the young man a view of Petros Park below. "We're not in Brooklyn. Or in New York, for that matter."

Closing his robe about himself and belting it loosely at the waist, he said, "It's rather difficult to explain, but first, I want you to understand that you're safe. You, and the dog, who just so happens to be yours." Gesturing to Bopp's collar, he said, "Turn it over, have a look."

On the other side of the tag was the name Bucky Barnes, with the phone number beneath.

[semi_stable]

Bucky has never been called darling by another man and normally he might not take it so well, but there’s something about it being said in this beguiling man’s deep accented voice makes him straighten up instead. His eyes widen and he swallows hard, throat clicking as his eyes track the man moving across the room.

Admittedly, he’s not really listening to what he’s actually saying. He’s too busy staring, but eventually he processes the view out the window. Bucky does a double take and then stands up abruptly, letting the blankets fall away as he crosses the room to take in the city below him. It’s definitely not Brooklyn, or Manhattan or any of the boroughs. Beyond that, Bucky doesn’t have much of a frame of reference.

“Wait— what?” Bucky sucks in a ragged breath, brow pinched and mouth slack as he looks over at the other man’s face. “What the hell is this?”

The dog is whining at his side, pressing her face into his hip, and Bucky nearly pushes her away until the guy motions to the leather collar around her neck. It looks nicer than any belt that Bucky has ever owned.

He shoots the guy a wary look and then crouches, blue eyes wide before he turns to look at the tag.

IF FOUND PLEASE CALL BUCKY BARNES

Underneath it is a line of numbers and Bucky swallows hard, hands shaking as the dog rubs herself against him, pressing until he falls back onto his ass, nuzzling at him with obvious familiarity. “I don’t understand.”

[thewrongpath]

Bucky seemed unaware of his nudity as he rushed for the window, confusion winning out over his rather obvious, wide-eyed lust.

"She's trained to respond when you're anxious," Loki explained, though he knew that wasn't the question he'd been asked. Crouching down at Bucky's side, though careful not to crowd him, Loki said, "I know you believe you must've gotten very drunk last night and gone home with a stranger, but that's not quite the truth of it."

Standing, he crossed to the dresser and opened a drawer, producing a pair of pajama pants that would fit Bucky perfectly, because they were his. He held them out, allowing Bucky to take them, if he wished.

"You're in a city called Darrow. A strange, inexplicable world outside of time, that brings people from every corner of every universe together. Now and then, it likes to play little games like this. Fiddle with your memory. Your body. Your age. The man I know as James Buchanan Barnes is quite a few years older. And with a bit more experience under his belt."

Smiling warmly, he took a seat in the chair by the window.

[semi_stable]

"What?" He looks at the dog again, blinking when she meets his gaze and perks her ears up. Her tag is swinging back and forth and Bucky looks down to see his own name engraved into it again. He tenses a little when the man crouches next to him, and swallows hard as he looks over at him. "This is-- what I thought, yeah. So, we didn't-- um."

His cheeks flush and he lets out a crazed sort of laugh, putting his face in his hands for a long moment. He looks up in time to see a pair of soft pants being held toward him and he looks down at himself, eyes widening as he curses under his breath. "Fuck, sorry."

He gets up and wrangles himself into the pants, pulling the strings tight, and stares at the guy in shock as he attempts to explain the situation Bucky has found himself in. The other man is so calm, so steady, and Bucky blinks when he uses Bucky's real first name.

"I-- um." He's silent for a long moment as he tries to process it all, because the thing is that he doesn't think this guy is lying. He seems so sincere, even if what he's saying sounds full on crazy, and him being so calm might be the only thing keeping Bucky from fully flipping his lid. "You seem to know a lot about me. I don't even know your name. Or-- or who you are."

[thewrongpath]

"I am Loki," he said, ignoring the dull ache in his chest, settled there at having to reintroduce himself to this man, whom he'd shared a life with now for over a year. "Laufeyson," he added with a sigh. Then, with a vague gesture of his hand, he said, "And a long list of titles it's better I not get into at the moment."

Sitting forward, elbows on his knees, Loki said, "You did come home with me last night, but we weren't strangers. I'm your partner. Boyfriend. Lover. I'm not sure we've ever settled on a label," he sighed, scrubbing both hands over his cheeks before letting them fall, a small, only slightly unsteady smile on his face. "You being here like this, not knowing where you are, not knowing me... it should only be temporary. A week, tops."

[semi_stable]

"Loki Laufeyson," Bucky repeats slowly, finding himself staring at Loki again because that seems to be easy. At least it is until Loki explains their relationship, and Bucky coughs a little in surprise, backing up a little until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

"No, I'm not-- I can't," he starts, feeling panic swell again because yeah, he sometimes has sex with men but it's not something that he ever even considered acknowledging in the light of day. But again, Loki seems so honest and he suddenly seems so sad that it distracts Bucky from reaching up to tear his hair out.

"I'm sorry," he finds himself saying, taking a jerking step forward and then going still, curling his arms up against his chest as he looks out the window again. Absurdly, it feels a little like he might cry, and he takes a shaky breath. "I gotta be honest; this is outside the scope of what I know how to deal with. Buddy, it sounds completely insane."

He swallows and looks at Loki again, brow furrowing as he studies his face. He's a little like a magnet, and Bucky finds himself wanting to move closer even if what he's saying scares the absolute hell out of him. "But-- you're not lyin', are you? You don't look like you're lying."

[thewrongpath]

It was both amusing and terribly sad, watching Bucky practically scramble away from him.

Loki arched a brow. "Which part? The existence of multiple universes, or that you might be in love with a man?"

Sighing, he said, "no. I'm not lying. I can only imagine how confused and frightened you must be. Believe me, the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable."

[semi_stable]

"Love," Bucky repeats, because somehow that seems like the craziest thing of all. He's never been in love, he doesn't think. Not the kind he means, anyway. He goes from girl to girl and, more recently and less frequently, man to man, but love has never factored into his sex life.

But then he thinks about all the things that he's trying been trying to ignore for so long, and it doesn't seem all that crazy, being in love with a man. He's pretty sure he was halfway there anyway.

"But to answer your question, it's both," he mumbles, moving back so he can sit down on the bed, twisting to look at the expanse of it for a long, thoughtful moment. Eventually he clears his throat and looks back at Loki again. "We live here?" His expression goes a bit wary, nervous. "People leave us be? I can't imagine that."

[thewrongpath]

"The world isn't what you remember. For better or worse," Loki said, watching the way Bucky moved. Despite his nervousness, he seemed freer. Younger, yes, but he was... innocent. Undamaged, right down to the flesh and blood of his left arm. While he hated the circumstances of how he'd come to get it, and would've done anything to shield him from all that if he could, Loki found himself missing the prosthetic.

"You have a place of your own. A little house, by the sea. We split our time between the two."

Loki need to tell him about Sylvie, but he needed to stagger the bombshells, lest he overwhelm the poor boy entirely.

[semi_stable]

“I have oceanfront property? Now I know you’re fucking with me,” Bucky quips, laughing nervously and then taking a deep breath as he looks around the room. There’s a watch on the nightstand on the side of the bed where he woke up, a slim shiny rectangle that he can’t identify, and a small bottle of clear liquid. Anal lubricant, it reads, and Bucky goes pink as his stomach flips nervously.

This can’t be true, any of it. This has to be some trick, and he tells himself that because it’s easier to believe than the alternative, the enormity of which feels too big to comprehend. Loki hasn’t mentioned his family, or Steve, and he takes a shuddering breath when he realizes that if he’s in some far off place, they’re probably not here.

“If we’re— together like that, tell me something that only someone I’m close to would know, huh?” He says shakily as he twists to look at Loki again, chin jutting out defiantly even as his eyes shine. Even to his own ears, his tone sounds more desperate than accusatory, and he lifts his left hand to scrub it over his face.

[thewrongpath]

With a sigh, Loki sat forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between them. "I didn't know you as a young man, James. But if I had to hazard a guess, you've never told anyone of your feelings for Rogers. You've spent most of your life finishing fights he started, and you're about to run off to war now, but it's him you'd follow anywhere. Does that sound personal enough, for you?"

He arched a brow.

[semi_stable]

Loki’s gaze makes Bucky feel pinned down, seen in a way that Bucky isn’t used to. It’s intimate and unnerving, in a way, because he isn’t used to it. He almost misses what Loki says because he’s staring, again, but then Loki mentions Steve and he almost misses the rest of it because there’s a sudden ringing in his ears as his heart seems to leap into his throat.

Bucky stands up and swallows hard, gaze sweeping around the room as he takes a step back. He wants to deny it and can practically feel the words clawing at his throat, but it would be a lie. It’s just shocking to hear it out loud, this thing that he’s been keeping to himself and trying so hard to get rid of. And Loki says it so casually, like it’s no big deal at all.

He raises his brow in a challenging sort of way and Bucky curls his hands into fists, wanting to lash out, but he takes a deep breath instead and feels the fight sort of go out of him. Loki had done exactly what Bucky had asked of him.

“It’s mighty personal,” he says as he sinks back down onto the side of the bed, mortified to hear that his voice is trembling a little. “But I get the feeling you’re not one to pull your punches.”

[thewrongpath]

Loki watched the pain etching across Bucky's face, the way Bucky sprang to his feet, warring with the desire to flee, and then with the deeper instinct to fight. He remained calm, aching to provide comfort, but knowing there was little to be had.

"It's not my intention to hurt you, but, no. Trying to convince you of something so ludicrous can't be done by halves, I suppose," Loki said, with something of a sad smile.

[semi_stable]

This is awful. Bucky feels entirely unmoored, like he’s suddenly lost a limb, and he spends a few moments staring at the wall as he tries to process all he’s just learned. He believes it, mostly, because it’s too outlandish to be real and this place feels too strange, too different, for him not to take it seriously.

And then he looks over at Loki again, catching the sad but resigned look on his face, like he’s used to bad things happening to him, and suddenly feels like an ass.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Bucky says suddenly, springing boyishly up from the bed and coming closer to Loki. Yeah, Bucky is going through something of a crisis, but according to Loki, he woke up to someone he loves not remembering who he is. “This has to be rough for you, too.”

It’s awkward and Bucky really has no idea to do, still feeling a bit in shock, but he eventually reaches out to put his hand on Loki’s shoulder and give him an encouraging smile.

“I bet you miss me real bad,” Bucky chirps, which feels like a very strange thing to say. “But you said it’s temporary, right? So you’ll have me back in no time flat.”

[thewrongpath]

It struck him, how light Bucky seemed. Even frightened and lost, there was none of the wariness, none of the darkness he'd come to associate with the other man. Now, Bucky scrambled to comfort him, boyish in his sincerity, and Loki was just so desperately sad.

Yes, Loki missed him terribly.

"Yes, I suppose I will," Loki said, offering what he hoped was an encouraging smile. He gave Bucky's hand an encouraging pat, wishing terribly that he could pull the young man into his arms and hold him, if only for a moment.

[semi_stable]

Loki’s hand covers his and lingers there. Bucky stares down at it and resists the urge to jerk it away, or look around to check for prying eyes. He’s safe here, so he can just—

He trips over his own train of thought when he realizes it. He’s safe here. Yeah, all of this is crazy, and he’s terrified enough that his heart is beating in his chest, but part of him is safe here. For the first time in his life, Bucky can be wholly himself around someone.

“Is it okay if I ask you questions?” He says after a moment, breathing out shakily as he twists his hand so that Loki’s fingers are resting against his palm, and then curls his own fingers over them. Maybe it’s easier to focus on this than anything else. As enormous as it feels, acknowledging this part of him, it’s somehow the least of his current worries.

“I’ve never—“ He chuckles and then blushes fiercely, tilting his chin down as he looks at Loki’s face. “Christ, you probably know everything about me, huh? It’s not like I’ve got a ton of stories to tell.”

He takes Loki’s hand in both of his, thumbing at his knuckles and looking curiously at his fingernails. They’re immaculate and shining, and one corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches upward in amusement.

[thewrongpath]

"As I've said, I knew you quite a few years from now. You've got your own stories," Loki assured him, though he decided to remain vague— for now.

"You can ask me whatever you'd like," he said, smiling fondly at the way Bucky studied his hands. He curled his long fingers over Bucky's left palm, which he'd never held before, and fought the urge to bring it to his lips.

[semi_stable]

“Right,” Bucky breathes out, trying to imagine the man he is years from now. He assumes that he’s around Loki’s age, and he’s been living a life so different than what he imagined. He’s not settled down with a wife and kids and some stable factory job. He’s with a man in some strange city outside of time and space.

It’s kind of exciting, really. Or maybe he thinks that because it’s better than spiraling about it. It’s temporary, if Loki is to be believed, and Bucky thinks that he is. He gets a small number of days to explore this place, so he should make the most of it, right?

“You can touch me, you know,” Bucky says, ducking his head in a way that could only be described as shy. He’s confident with women, and even with men, but this is different. Loki is different, and Bucky finds himself fascinated. The way that Loki looks at him is bewildering, and more than a little intoxicating. No one has ever looked at him like that before.

“I mean, I already woke up thinkin’ we’d had sex, and I wasn’t disappointed when I saw you,” he says almost jovially, chuckling a little and giving Loki’s hand a squeeze. “You’re not gonna spook me, I don’t think.”

[thewrongpath]

"As much as I appreciate knowing I've passed muster, my darling, you'll need to set the pace for any touching," Loki said, smiling warmly. "As you've said, I know a great deal more about you than you know about me, and I won't put you into a position where you're not fully aware of what you're getting into."

Squeezing Bucky's hand in return, he said, "So, ask me. Whatever you'd like. I'll answer."