Fic - MCU - Not the Kind You Leave Behind
Mar. 27th, 2016 04:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grianchlochTitle: Not the Kind You Leave Behind
Relationship: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Fandom MCU
Rating: 18
Word Count: 2000
Disclaimer: Sadly, the characters aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Beta: Seleneheart
Notes: One shot. A little domesticity, a little fluff, Bucky being possessive, very mild D/s themes in places.
Summary: Bucky is tired of being left behind when Steve goes off on missions. He has his own coping mechanisms.
Bucky paces.
It’s been hours since the Avengers left to take on the latest threat to the city and it’s driving him crazy that he can’t be out there with them. He’s been going to therapy since he moved into the tower, but his therapist hasn’t signed off on him being fit for active duty yet.
Every TV network is following the skirmish between the Avengers and a swarm of small robots, with their reporters giving commentaries as if it were the latest prize fight and not a life or death situation.
Bucky watches every blow, yelling at the screen for Steve to watch his back, until Steve is knocked flying, and hits the edge of a heating vent before disappearing from the view of the camera.
“Son of a bitch!” Bucky shouts at the TV, jumping to his feet. “Jarvis, can you patch me into their comms?”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes but that isn’t possible given my current protocols. I can however allow you to listen in?”
“Yeah, please.”
“And I can assure you that Captain Rogers is fine, he was simply winded for a moment. ”
“Thanks Jarvis.”
It makes him feel slightly better to be able to hear Steve giving orders, but next time, Bucky swears to himself as he listens to the end of the battle, he isn’t getting left behind.
It’s a relief when Steve gets back, already showered and changed out of his uniform.
“Hey Buck. You okay?” Steve asks, propping his shield against the wall by the door as Bucky stalks towards him.
“Me? Am I okay? It wasn’t me that got thrown across a roof.”
“You were watching?”
“Yeah, and I can’t do that again. I need to be out there, I need to have your back. I can’t stay behind, not again.”
Bucky takes hold of Steve’s chin, examining his face for bruises and turning it so he can see every inch.
“Strip,” Bucky orders.
“You buying me dinner after this,” Steve grumbles, but complies, unbuttoning his shirt, and pulling it off before opening the fly of his jeans and pushing them down over his hips.
“Mm hm …” Bucky hums, hunkering down in front of Steve, loosening the laces on his boots and pulling them off one at a time, followed by socks. As Bucky stands up, Steve shimmies his hips and his jeans slide down his legs. He steps out of them, and gives himself up to Bucky’s scrutiny.
Bucky runs his hands down each of Steve’s arms in turn, checking them visually too as he goes, grunting in annoyance at the already yellowing bruises blooming over his shoulders. Bucky’s attentions turn to Steve’s torso, fingers skimming over smooth skin, the metal of his left hand making Steve hiss as the cooler fingertips deliberately graze a nipple. Satisfied that there isn’t any hidden damage, Bucky turns Steve around to face the wall, lifting his arms up. Steve puts his palms against the wall above his head as Bucky works down his back.
“Jesus,” Bucky curses, frowning at the deeper bruising on Steve’s back.
“It’s already healing.”
“Not the point.”
Bucky rests his hands on Steve’s hips as he takes in the extent of the damage done when Steve was thrown back. As his gaze reaches the waistband of Steve’s dark blue boxer briefs, he slips the tips of his fingers beneath the fabric and eases them down over Steve’s ass. The bruising fades away to nothing at the top of the rounded swell of Steve’s glutes, but Bucky pulls the briefs further down, running his fingers round to the front to ease them over the now swelling bulge.
Steve’s moan is soft, almost a sigh, as Bucky slides them down Steve’s long, well muscled legs and taps each ankle in turn. Steve lifts his right foot, then his left as Bucky pulls the fabric all the way off. He examines each foot up in turn, running his fingers down the strong bones that he logically knows are well protected by the sturdy armored boots that are part of Steve’s suit, but he needs this, this ritual of making sure that every part of Steve is intact, healthy and unharmed.
If Bucky gets left behind, and isn’t there to watch Steve’s back himself, then this is necessary. Sam would probably say it was Bucky’s coping mechanism, but he doesn’t talk about it with Sam, and he doesn’t think Steve does either.
Bucky’s hands map out the dip and swell of the muscles in Steve’s calves, and work their way up over his knees to his thighs.
“Turn round.”
Steve follows orders and turns around, gazing down at Bucky, who completes his inspection before taking any notice of Steve’s dick. It’s hard, jutting straight out as Steve tilts his hips forward.
Now he’s satisfied Steve is okay, Bucky relaxes, and leans forward to nuzzle Steve’s dick, relishing the hard heat against his cheek. He drinks in Steve’s clean musky scent, and turns his head to press his lips against the base before working his way up the shaft with wet, open mouthed kisses. He runs his tongue around the head, glancing up at Steve as he opens his mouth and pauses at the wrecked look on Steve’s face.
“Bucky …” Steve moans as Bucky sucks him down, laving him with his tongue as he slides up and down the shaft until Steve’s hips are jerking and his hands are grasping Bucky’s hair.
Bucky cups Steve’s balls, swallowing him further down at the same time, and Steve comes, pumping in hot salty spurts down Bucky’s throat. Bucky swallows, not wasting one drop, and cleans Steve up as he pulls off, grinning as Steve sags back against the wall.
“Hey to you too,” Steve rasps out, dazed and still petting Bucky’s hair.
Bucky gets to his feet and wraps his arms around Steve, kissing his pliant lips, feeling Steve smile against his mouth. Steve’s hand cups Bucky through his jeans, but Bucky shakes his head. He knows Steve will return the favor later and sometimes it’s all the sweeter to wait. And he’s hungry.
“Steak?” he asks Steve, who nods enthusiastically.
Bucky squeezes his ass before walking through to the kitchen to throw four steaks on the grill. One will do for him, it’s not like he’s expending a lot of energy sitting around like a kept man in the gilded cage that is Stark Tower, but Steve will need more to fuel that crazy metabolism of his.
Steve wolfs down the steaks and the pile of potatoes Bucky pulled out of the oven. When he’s finished, he leans back, patting his still flat belly and grinning at Bucky. His eyes widen when Bucky puts a warm apple pie down on the table along with a jug of cream.
The crust is decorated with pastry stars surrounding a capital “A” in the centre.
“You made this?” Steve asks.
“Not like I’ve got anything better to do,” Bucky shrugs. “You Tube’s helpful and that British dame, Nigella, she’s a fox.”
“Bucky …”
Bucky stops him before he apologizes again. “Not your fault. But I can’t sit around doing nothing.”
“When’s your next assessment?”
“Ten days.”
*****
Ten days later, Bucky leaves the assessment with a grin on his face. Steve grins back, and allows himself to be swept up into a bear hug.
“Did you bribe them? Threaten, maybe?”
“I pointed out that none of the Avengers would pass many mental health tests. And I might have strongly implied that I wanted my second in command back ASAP.”
“Thanks. I won’t let you down.”
“You still gonna bake for me, right?”
“I could be persuaded …”
****
Bucky’s first mission with the Avengers is a relatively simple one. They all get knocked about, and since Bucky feels like he has to prove himself, he’s right there, ready to take out the bad guy when he gets thrown back, and tumbles off the roof. He only falls one floor but the impact knocks the air from his lungs and leaves him unable to confirm he’s okay over the comms. Seconds later, Steve’s there, landing squarely on two feet and dropping straight to his knees at Bucky’s side.
“I’m ‘kay,” Bucky manages to wheeze out, but Steve’s hands are already patting him down, testing for breaks. “Bad guy?”
“In custody. I knocked him out.”
Bucky huffs out a laugh, then grimaces. It’ll take a few hours for what feels like heavy bruising to heal enough to stop hurting.
There’s another thump as someone else lands on the roof.
“Air lift?” Tony sounds amused.
“Yeah, thanks,” Steve replies.
“Wait, I don’t need help. And I don’t want special treatment.” Bucky glares at Steve.
“You’re not getting special treatment. If anyone else had put themselves in direct danger like you did, and got themselves blown off a roof, I’d be doing the same thing. And I’d also be debriefing them later to make sure they don’t try and prove themselves like that again.”
“Debriefing, right, like that isn’t disturbing to think about,” Tony mutters under his breath.
Bucky looks up at Steve, and sees Captain America staring down at him. There’s still a little trace of Steve in his eyes, but Bucky has to acknowledge that right now, Steve is his commanding officer. He’s been here before, and knowing Steve was in charge had always steadied him. It’s Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th that speaks.
“Yes sir.”
Steve nods, and just like that, there’s another dynamic to their relationship. Out in the field, Steve’s in charge. Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, out on his own, he’s home, and finally he feels like he’s slotting into a new life.
Steve and Tony help him to his feet, and he would admit, if anyone asked, that he’s glad of the ride back to the tower. Tony walks him down to their floor and helps him out of his tac gear. He leaves with a wave when Bucky decides to take a shower. Bucky’s halfway passed out on the bed, towel around his waist, when Steve gets back.
“Steve?” Bucky groans as he lifts his head.
“Yeah, I left Cap at the door. Geez, Buck, what were you thinking?”
“I thought you left Cap at the door.”
“I did. This is me being concerned for your stupid ass.”
“That’s not what you usually call my ass.” Bucky squirms on the bed, pushing his ass into the air, but regrets it at the ache the movement causes that spreads through his back. He hisses unhappily, burying his face in the pillow.
Steve tuts, and Bucky braces himself for another nagging, but instead, he feels Steve’s hands running across his shoulders, and then down his right arm, fingers checking for damage, in a gentle imitation of Bucky’s previous examinations of Steve. He checks Bucky’s left arm too, proving that he was paying attention when Tony showed Bucky how to do basic maintenance in the field himself. Bucky’s heart swells at the care that shows, and he relaxes into the touches which now wander up his neck into his hair, then down his spine, smoothing feather light over the visible bruising, making Bucky shiver.
Steve runs his fingers under the edge of the towel, and Bucky moves just enough so that Steve can pull it free. Then his hands are back, cupping Bucky’s ass, which does things to him despite the aching muscles. When Steve’s touch runs slowly down his legs, Bucky moans and melts into the bed, his mouth slack as he relaxes. He doesn’t realize he’s dozed off until Steve is pressing a kiss to the top of his head and draping a blanket over him.
“Wuh?” Bucky’s unable to be more coherent than that.
“Get some sleep. I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Make?” Bucky whines in protest.
“Okay,” Steve sighs. “I’ll order in.”
Bucky smiles, and as he lets himself doze again, he swears he can hear Steve’s eyes rolling.
Relationship: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Fandom MCU
Rating: 18
Word Count: 2000
Disclaimer: Sadly, the characters aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Beta: Seleneheart
Notes: One shot. A little domesticity, a little fluff, Bucky being possessive, very mild D/s themes in places.
Summary: Bucky is tired of being left behind when Steve goes off on missions. He has his own coping mechanisms.
Bucky paces.
It’s been hours since the Avengers left to take on the latest threat to the city and it’s driving him crazy that he can’t be out there with them. He’s been going to therapy since he moved into the tower, but his therapist hasn’t signed off on him being fit for active duty yet.
Every TV network is following the skirmish between the Avengers and a swarm of small robots, with their reporters giving commentaries as if it were the latest prize fight and not a life or death situation.
Bucky watches every blow, yelling at the screen for Steve to watch his back, until Steve is knocked flying, and hits the edge of a heating vent before disappearing from the view of the camera.
“Son of a bitch!” Bucky shouts at the TV, jumping to his feet. “Jarvis, can you patch me into their comms?”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes but that isn’t possible given my current protocols. I can however allow you to listen in?”
“Yeah, please.”
“And I can assure you that Captain Rogers is fine, he was simply winded for a moment. ”
“Thanks Jarvis.”
It makes him feel slightly better to be able to hear Steve giving orders, but next time, Bucky swears to himself as he listens to the end of the battle, he isn’t getting left behind.
It’s a relief when Steve gets back, already showered and changed out of his uniform.
“Hey Buck. You okay?” Steve asks, propping his shield against the wall by the door as Bucky stalks towards him.
“Me? Am I okay? It wasn’t me that got thrown across a roof.”
“You were watching?”
“Yeah, and I can’t do that again. I need to be out there, I need to have your back. I can’t stay behind, not again.”
Bucky takes hold of Steve’s chin, examining his face for bruises and turning it so he can see every inch.
“Strip,” Bucky orders.
“You buying me dinner after this,” Steve grumbles, but complies, unbuttoning his shirt, and pulling it off before opening the fly of his jeans and pushing them down over his hips.
“Mm hm …” Bucky hums, hunkering down in front of Steve, loosening the laces on his boots and pulling them off one at a time, followed by socks. As Bucky stands up, Steve shimmies his hips and his jeans slide down his legs. He steps out of them, and gives himself up to Bucky’s scrutiny.
Bucky runs his hands down each of Steve’s arms in turn, checking them visually too as he goes, grunting in annoyance at the already yellowing bruises blooming over his shoulders. Bucky’s attentions turn to Steve’s torso, fingers skimming over smooth skin, the metal of his left hand making Steve hiss as the cooler fingertips deliberately graze a nipple. Satisfied that there isn’t any hidden damage, Bucky turns Steve around to face the wall, lifting his arms up. Steve puts his palms against the wall above his head as Bucky works down his back.
“Jesus,” Bucky curses, frowning at the deeper bruising on Steve’s back.
“It’s already healing.”
“Not the point.”
Bucky rests his hands on Steve’s hips as he takes in the extent of the damage done when Steve was thrown back. As his gaze reaches the waistband of Steve’s dark blue boxer briefs, he slips the tips of his fingers beneath the fabric and eases them down over Steve’s ass. The bruising fades away to nothing at the top of the rounded swell of Steve’s glutes, but Bucky pulls the briefs further down, running his fingers round to the front to ease them over the now swelling bulge.
Steve’s moan is soft, almost a sigh, as Bucky slides them down Steve’s long, well muscled legs and taps each ankle in turn. Steve lifts his right foot, then his left as Bucky pulls the fabric all the way off. He examines each foot up in turn, running his fingers down the strong bones that he logically knows are well protected by the sturdy armored boots that are part of Steve’s suit, but he needs this, this ritual of making sure that every part of Steve is intact, healthy and unharmed.
If Bucky gets left behind, and isn’t there to watch Steve’s back himself, then this is necessary. Sam would probably say it was Bucky’s coping mechanism, but he doesn’t talk about it with Sam, and he doesn’t think Steve does either.
Bucky’s hands map out the dip and swell of the muscles in Steve’s calves, and work their way up over his knees to his thighs.
“Turn round.”
Steve follows orders and turns around, gazing down at Bucky, who completes his inspection before taking any notice of Steve’s dick. It’s hard, jutting straight out as Steve tilts his hips forward.
Now he’s satisfied Steve is okay, Bucky relaxes, and leans forward to nuzzle Steve’s dick, relishing the hard heat against his cheek. He drinks in Steve’s clean musky scent, and turns his head to press his lips against the base before working his way up the shaft with wet, open mouthed kisses. He runs his tongue around the head, glancing up at Steve as he opens his mouth and pauses at the wrecked look on Steve’s face.
“Bucky …” Steve moans as Bucky sucks him down, laving him with his tongue as he slides up and down the shaft until Steve’s hips are jerking and his hands are grasping Bucky’s hair.
Bucky cups Steve’s balls, swallowing him further down at the same time, and Steve comes, pumping in hot salty spurts down Bucky’s throat. Bucky swallows, not wasting one drop, and cleans Steve up as he pulls off, grinning as Steve sags back against the wall.
“Hey to you too,” Steve rasps out, dazed and still petting Bucky’s hair.
Bucky gets to his feet and wraps his arms around Steve, kissing his pliant lips, feeling Steve smile against his mouth. Steve’s hand cups Bucky through his jeans, but Bucky shakes his head. He knows Steve will return the favor later and sometimes it’s all the sweeter to wait. And he’s hungry.
“Steak?” he asks Steve, who nods enthusiastically.
Bucky squeezes his ass before walking through to the kitchen to throw four steaks on the grill. One will do for him, it’s not like he’s expending a lot of energy sitting around like a kept man in the gilded cage that is Stark Tower, but Steve will need more to fuel that crazy metabolism of his.
Steve wolfs down the steaks and the pile of potatoes Bucky pulled out of the oven. When he’s finished, he leans back, patting his still flat belly and grinning at Bucky. His eyes widen when Bucky puts a warm apple pie down on the table along with a jug of cream.
The crust is decorated with pastry stars surrounding a capital “A” in the centre.
“You made this?” Steve asks.
“Not like I’ve got anything better to do,” Bucky shrugs. “You Tube’s helpful and that British dame, Nigella, she’s a fox.”
“Bucky …”
Bucky stops him before he apologizes again. “Not your fault. But I can’t sit around doing nothing.”
“When’s your next assessment?”
“Ten days.”
*****
Ten days later, Bucky leaves the assessment with a grin on his face. Steve grins back, and allows himself to be swept up into a bear hug.
“Did you bribe them? Threaten, maybe?”
“I pointed out that none of the Avengers would pass many mental health tests. And I might have strongly implied that I wanted my second in command back ASAP.”
“Thanks. I won’t let you down.”
“You still gonna bake for me, right?”
“I could be persuaded …”
****
Bucky’s first mission with the Avengers is a relatively simple one. They all get knocked about, and since Bucky feels like he has to prove himself, he’s right there, ready to take out the bad guy when he gets thrown back, and tumbles off the roof. He only falls one floor but the impact knocks the air from his lungs and leaves him unable to confirm he’s okay over the comms. Seconds later, Steve’s there, landing squarely on two feet and dropping straight to his knees at Bucky’s side.
“I’m ‘kay,” Bucky manages to wheeze out, but Steve’s hands are already patting him down, testing for breaks. “Bad guy?”
“In custody. I knocked him out.”
Bucky huffs out a laugh, then grimaces. It’ll take a few hours for what feels like heavy bruising to heal enough to stop hurting.
There’s another thump as someone else lands on the roof.
“Air lift?” Tony sounds amused.
“Yeah, thanks,” Steve replies.
“Wait, I don’t need help. And I don’t want special treatment.” Bucky glares at Steve.
“You’re not getting special treatment. If anyone else had put themselves in direct danger like you did, and got themselves blown off a roof, I’d be doing the same thing. And I’d also be debriefing them later to make sure they don’t try and prove themselves like that again.”
“Debriefing, right, like that isn’t disturbing to think about,” Tony mutters under his breath.
Bucky looks up at Steve, and sees Captain America staring down at him. There’s still a little trace of Steve in his eyes, but Bucky has to acknowledge that right now, Steve is his commanding officer. He’s been here before, and knowing Steve was in charge had always steadied him. It’s Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th that speaks.
“Yes sir.”
Steve nods, and just like that, there’s another dynamic to their relationship. Out in the field, Steve’s in charge. Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, out on his own, he’s home, and finally he feels like he’s slotting into a new life.
Steve and Tony help him to his feet, and he would admit, if anyone asked, that he’s glad of the ride back to the tower. Tony walks him down to their floor and helps him out of his tac gear. He leaves with a wave when Bucky decides to take a shower. Bucky’s halfway passed out on the bed, towel around his waist, when Steve gets back.
“Steve?” Bucky groans as he lifts his head.
“Yeah, I left Cap at the door. Geez, Buck, what were you thinking?”
“I thought you left Cap at the door.”
“I did. This is me being concerned for your stupid ass.”
“That’s not what you usually call my ass.” Bucky squirms on the bed, pushing his ass into the air, but regrets it at the ache the movement causes that spreads through his back. He hisses unhappily, burying his face in the pillow.
Steve tuts, and Bucky braces himself for another nagging, but instead, he feels Steve’s hands running across his shoulders, and then down his right arm, fingers checking for damage, in a gentle imitation of Bucky’s previous examinations of Steve. He checks Bucky’s left arm too, proving that he was paying attention when Tony showed Bucky how to do basic maintenance in the field himself. Bucky’s heart swells at the care that shows, and he relaxes into the touches which now wander up his neck into his hair, then down his spine, smoothing feather light over the visible bruising, making Bucky shiver.
Steve runs his fingers under the edge of the towel, and Bucky moves just enough so that Steve can pull it free. Then his hands are back, cupping Bucky’s ass, which does things to him despite the aching muscles. When Steve’s touch runs slowly down his legs, Bucky moans and melts into the bed, his mouth slack as he relaxes. He doesn’t realize he’s dozed off until Steve is pressing a kiss to the top of his head and draping a blanket over him.
“Wuh?” Bucky’s unable to be more coherent than that.
“Get some sleep. I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Make?” Bucky whines in protest.
“Okay,” Steve sighs. “I’ll order in.”
Bucky smiles, and as he lets himself doze again, he swears he can hear Steve’s eyes rolling.
