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Steve pushed against the crowd. He’d thought the cold wind and the darkness would keep the New York streets relatively empty, but nope – it was just as busy as it would have been on any other day. Trust his luck. By the time he reached Natasha’s apartment, he was pretty sure he’d been elbowed four times, stood on three and shoved at least half a dozen. He was gonna have bruises on his bruises, he thought numbly as he climbed up the stairs. The elevator was bust, and even if it wasn’t, he surely wouldn’t get inside. The last time the stupid thing had broken down, Steve had been inside. For 5 hours. Never again – he’d rather struggle up the three flights than go through that again.
He was out of breath when he knocked on her door, and only had a wait a few moments before the door swung open. Natasha was beautiful, one of those people who you didn’t think existed outside of movies, creamy skin and big eyes, dark copper hair and a body that belonged on the cover of a magazine. When he’d first met her he was pretty sure that she’d been pulling his leg about her job – people who looked like her weren’t security workers – but when he told her that and she threatened to break his legs to prove her point… well… he’d been smitten.
He’d entertained a little love story in his head for a few months – she’d see he was a good guy, fall for him, they’d live happily ever after – but that didn’t happen. Rather, he got a best friend he wasn’t expecting and that was better than anything he could have thought up in his imagination. Because when it came to being a best friend, Natasha was the best.
She’d met Clint about three years ago, and Steve wasn’t sure if she was serious at first, because Clint was everything she seemed not to like – he was lazy and ignored what people said sometimes, called everyone ‘Dude’ and even when he was dressed up nice, he still managed to look rumpled. Steve obviously thought his best friend deserved better – but through the years, he realised that Clint worshiped Natasha. His laziness was simply a wish to relax after a long day at work, his overuse of ‘dude’ was because he regarded it as a non-gendered greeting (girls can be Dudes, bro) and his habit of ignoring people was because he actually couldn’t hear them. “Been deaf for years, man.” He’d explained one day, after he’d had to fiddle with his hearing aid. “I can lip-read okay, but it’s hard to catch everything – only works about 30% of the time.”
As for looking rumpled, well, that was just Clint. The man could put on a shirt starched within an inch of its life and within about three minutes look like he’d rolled out of bed.
“You took your time.” Natasha greeted him as he stepped inside. Her voice was raspy, like she smoked 30 a day, even though he knew she’d never touched a packed of smokes in her life.
“People.” He shrugged, pulling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. Natasha was actually a couple of inches taller than him, but he was used to being the shortest person in the room.
“Well, James is here. I don’t think you’ve met him.” She said, ushering him through. “He’s a friend of Clint’s. Pretty weird.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Sam too, and Tony, Pepper, Bruce and Jane.” She paused. “Jane brought a girl called Darcy. She’s nice, Sam’s currently trying to climb into her underwear one bad pun at a time.”
“Full house, huh?” He said, wincing as he reached up to hang his coat on the hook by the door. Yup, a few of those stray elbows had knocked him harder than he would have liked.
She rolled her eyes at him, but let him struggle on. She used to try to help him do things like that, but after a few heated arguments that had Steve insisting that he didn’t need babying, that he was a grown man. “As full as I want with Kate around.” She told him. “Tony looks like he’s holding a live bomb, and I don’t know why, but Pepper looks like she’s got a lot of experience with babies.”
“Right.” Steve nodded, aware that Natasha wasn’t quite letting him through to the living room. He raised an eyebrow.
“Look,” She said, glancing over her shoulder. “James is really fucking weird, okay? Clint’s apparently known him forever, although I’m pretty sure that can’t be right, cause he looks about 20.” She gave him alook. She had a lot of looks, and Steve couldn’t quite decipher that one. “Can you just keep him occupied? Kate hates him.”
Lucky, Clint’s dog, was in the kitchen when Steve went through to get himself a drink before he’d have to deal with the people through in the living room. Steve loved Lucky, and Lucky loved Steve. The issue, of course, was that despite their mutual adoration of one another, Steve was also pretty allergic to the overgrown mutt.
“Hey boy!” He said, grinning when Lucky bounced on his paws, knowing better than to jump up at Steve. He’d done it once, and knocked Steve halfway over the room. “I think I’ve got something here for you.” He added, patting down his slacks pockets. Sure enough, he had a couple of biscuits in there, popped in just before he left his house for the exact purpose of feeding them to Lucky when he arrived. The sneeze was worth it.
“He likes you.” A voice said, a rolling Brooklyn accent that was warm and welcoming to a local lad like himself. Spinning around, Steve found himself face to face with one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen in his life. He was pale, with brown hair and deep navy eyes, framed with thick black lashes that made him look like he had some kind of eyeliner on. Maybe he did, Steve didn’t know. He did know, however, that he was standing way to close – and things were… weird… and… “I’m James.” He said, and Steve nodded, soothed by the warmth in those deep blue eyes… he felt… warm… safe… he could feel a dopy smile on his lips, and he distantly wondered why…
James jerked back, spluttering and spitting, knocking Steve from his daze. Steve blinked twice, mind foggy and feeling confused. James was pulling away, wiping at his mouth, looking utterly disgusted. Steve realised that James must have been holding him, and for a moment he thought perhaps he’d fainted (not the first time) but things just didn’t make sense.
“What?” He said, but his voice was slurred, like he’d been drinking – and he knew he hadn’t touched a drop.
“Nothing.” James said, voice warm, “You’re feeling a little woozy, that’s all.”
For a moment, Steve really did feel woozy, but then he blinked. He certainly wasn’t going to let some total stranger boss him around. He wasn’t a child. “I feel fine.” He said, pulling away. “What the he-”
He didn’t get much further.
James was wiping his mouth, lips red with… with blood. Without even registering, Steve’s hand shot up to his neck. His fingers touched warmth – wetness. “Did you bite me?” He burst out, and was rewarded with a hand pressed firm over his mouth, blue eyes flashing with… something. Something that seemed to pull him down, deeper into a half sleep.
“You fell.” James was saying, voice hypnotic and firm. Safe. Steve felt very safe… “You fell, and I grabbed you.”
“I fell.” Steve found himself mumbling against the warm skin of James’ hand. He blinked. He had fallen. No… wait… he hadn’t fallen. The hand was being removed from his mouth, slowly.
“You fell, and I helped you up.”
“You bit me.” Steve managed.
“You fell.”
“No, you fucking bit me.” He said, blinking fast. “You bit me!”
The other man looked slightly panicked around the edges, like things weren’t quite going his way. “You fell.” He said, blue eyes locking with Steve’s. Steve could still see traces of blood on the other man’s lips. They were pretty nice lips, pouty and full and when he spoke Steve could see a flash of white teeth. Pointed white teeth.
Holy shit.
“Holy shit!”
“You fell.” The other man insisted, looking more and more panicked, eyes darting towards the door like any moment he expected someone to burst through.
“You’re a fucking vampire!” Steve hissed, and when he brought his hands up to make the sign of a cross, he noticed that the fingers of his left hand were red with his own blood.
“Don’t be stupid.” The man, James, said, knocking Steve’s hands down with a swipe. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not the one biting people!”
There was a noise from the hall. “Hey, you okay guys?”
The instant and blink panic over James face made Steve pause. “Uh, yeah. Just… talking to the dog.”
“Sweet, dude.”
James blinked, looking at Steve with shock.
Steve was sitting on one of the stools at the little breakfast nook thing in the kitchen, watching as James paced back and forth. A vampire. A real live (live? Was he alive?) vampire.
“You’re a vampire.” He repeated, and watched how James’ eye shot to the door in panic.
“Keep your voice down!” James said, voice low and urgent. “Seriously, people might hear you.”
“Would you kill them?”
“What?” James said, looking at Steve with something like horror on his face. “Kill them? Why would I kill them?”
“Lunch?” Steve hedged. At James frankly disgusted look, Steve shrugged. “I dunno. Everything I know about vampires I learned from Buffy.” He paused. “Are you Angel or Spike?”
“I’m Bucky.” The vampire snorted, and Steve noticed how Lucky didn’t seem nervous around him, happy to lounge at the side of the counter James (Bucky?) was pacing beside. “I don’t get it. The glamour thing should work for hours. Days even.”
“Glamour?” Steve repeated, dumbly, before working it out. “Oh my god, you hypnotised me!”
James (Bucky?) rolled his eyes. “It’s… not… fuck.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Natasha walked through. “Hey boys, you planning on joining us at any point tonight?” She said, although her voice didn’t sound annoyed at all. “Or just stay through here and flirt some more?”
“Uh,” Steve started, but James laughed. Warm, safe.
“You told me he was cute,” He shot back. “This is your fault.”
Steve spluttered. “You told me he was weird!”
Her answering laugh was completely unrepentant. “He’s one of Clint’s friends. They’re all weird.” She shot back, before grabbing a large bag of chips and heading out of the kitchen. “You’re welcome.”
When the door swung shut, Steve looked at James. “Are you actually one of Clint’s friends, or did you… I dunno, whammy his mind too?”
The offended look he was shot made him smirk a little. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve known Clint for years.” James said, sounding put out. “I met him when we were at college.”
“What’s an immortal vampire doing at college?”
“Getting a degree, you punk.” James said, eyes rolling. “What, you think it’s easy to stay up-to-date in this job market?”
That made Steve stop for a second. “Wait… you have a job?”
“Yeah, I have a job.” James shot back, far too sarcastically for Steve’s liking. “I work nights at the Amazon dispatch centre.” He paused. “I’m the night shift manager.”
The fact that he sounded proud of that actually stopped Steve from snorting out a laugh. “Really?”
“Yup.” A pause. “No one knows.”
“About your job?”
“Yeah, Steve, about my job.” A snort. Yeah, far too sarcastic for Steve’s liking. “About the whole…” He lifted his forearm over his mouth, like he was holding a cape, and hissed dramatically. “No one. Ever.”
“Are you going to kill me?” Steve asked, really unsure why he wasn’t worried. Maybe the mind whammy thing was still working. “Like, suck me dry and leave the husk of my body in a gutter? Because I know?”
“Firstly,” James said, nose wrinkling up like Steve had just suggested… well… like Steve just suggested something even more gross than killing and dumping a body. “I have absolutely no reason to kill anyone,ever, and secondly, I certainly wouldn’t be draining you dry and leaving your body anywhere.”
Steve blinked. He was pretty sure he’d just been insulted, he just wasn’t sure… how. “What, I’m not good enough for you?”
“You taste like shit.” James said, flatly. “I don’t know what’s going on with your insides, but it’s nothing good.”
Steve reeled back like he’d been slapped. “I’m anaemic!”
“It’s gross.”
“It’s not my fault! I need to take iron supplements!”
“Yeah, well, rest assured, you’re not on anyone’s ‘to eat’ list.”
Steve walked home. He was pretty sure he’d never been so insulted in his entire life. Ever. It actually kind of overshadowed the whole vampire thing, which was saying something. Who the hell was this… blood sucking douche bag to say Steve didn’t taste good? Steve tasted just fine. Obviously his… blood… was for a more refined palette. Not for common ass night managers at Amazon. Seriously. He tasted fine.
By the time he got home he was practically fizzing. He stormed into the bathroom and opened up the cabinet with a click. Sure, okay, he was a little paler than normal, and yeah, okay, maybe he wasn’t about to win any awards for like… being buff, or whatever, but fuck that. He was plenty tasty.
He tipped a pill into his hand and swallowed it dry, gagging a little when it stuck on the way down. Daily multivitamin. With fucking iron. That’ll show that smug asshole.
He snapped awake in the middle of the night.
“Holy fuck!” He shouted. “He’s a vampire!”
The very next day, after a terrible night’s sleep (he’d met a vampire. That was a thing that happened. A vampire!) that he was going to blame on James no matter what, he found a package sitting at his door. From Amazon.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He said, pulling it inside. It weighed too much for him to carry. It rattled.
It took him a few tries to open the ‘easy open’ packaging, which he was pretty sure could be some cosmic joke at his expense. There was a note on top of the brown paper used to stop everything rattling around in transit.
Hey Steve, (It read)
Sorry for being a total jerk. I guess I just freaked out a little and didn’t handle it too well.
I hope that the package is taken in the way it was meant.
The package (once Steve had re-read the note twice because blood sucking immortal or not, he had terrible handwriting) consisted of three different types of vitamins, two iron supplements, a cookbook for ‘healthy living’ and a fucking state of the art juicer, complete with little jars of green powders that he assumed you added to the juice for an extra kick. It looked like a rocket ship. The kind Steve saw on TV and always really wanted but was pretty sure the whole thing was a fad and he didn’t earn nearly enough to give it a try.
He wasn’t sure if he should be seriously offended, or not. In the end, he sat on the couch and laughed until his ribs hurt. What a fucking asshole.
“So, James was asking after you,” Natasha told him, as Steve walked with the phone tucked under his arm. He preferred the all-night places for his groceries. It meant that there were less people bumping into him and pushing him around. So far, his cart was full of vegetables. The whole ‘juicing’ thing was costing him a fortune, it took like, a kilo of veg to make a single drink.
“Bucky?” He asked, looking at his list. He’d been putting off buying fruit. It was way more expensive than the veg and you needed even more of it to make a decent ‘portion’.
“Bucky now, is it?” She said, sounding smug as hell. “I see how it is.”
“No, you really don’t.”
“Hmmm.” She snorted. “Anyway, he asked for your number. Which I gave him, of course.” A pause. “And because I’m a good bro, I also told him that you’re pretty much nocturnal and he’s not to get weird if you don’t answer him right away.”
“You told him I was nocturnal?” Steve said, stopping in his tracks. “I’m not!”
“You work all through the night, sleep through the day and do your grocery shopping at 2am.” She shot back. “I’m pretty sure you’ve turned your internal clock on its ass.”
Steve paused. He wondered what a vampire might think of that news. Like… would they think that was… good? Not that Steve gave a crap about what some bloodsucking demon thing thought of him. Didn’t matter how cute he was. He glanced at his cart, filling up with veg and fruit he never normally ate. He was a take-away and re-heated pizza kind of guy. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing, really. Clint’s friends are weird – wanted to know if you’d mentioned anything… unusual.”
“Unusual?”
“Yeah.” Steve could hear Kate gurgling on the other side of the line, and a shuffle as Natasha moved. He’d assumed she was nursing, she normally called him through the night so she’d have someone to talk to. “I told him that the whole ‘gay’ thing was kind of obvious, and he laughed.” Another pause. “He totally likes you.”
Steve was struggling with his groceries (because he only had two arms, okay, and neither of them were pretty strong) when he heard footfalls behind him.
“Hey, little guy, why don’t you let us help you with those, huh?” A male voice said, a little too sweetly to be genuine. Someone sniggered.
“I’m okay, thanks.” He said, trying not to pick up his pace. He certainly wasn’t going to manage running – and out-running anyone was always out of the question – with his bags piled high with heavy fruit and veg. Somehow, he was pretty sure, this was all Bucky’s fault.
“Yeah?” Someone said. Someone else. “Wasn’t a question.”
Steve found himself hustled into an alley. It wasn’t the first time in his life this had happened, but every time, he wished it’d be his last. His bags were pulled from his hands, and a hard shove sent him sprawling on the filthy ground, hands scraping over the debris and knees hitting hard – he already knew his slacks were ripped, blood already running down his legs, an unpleasant heat.
“Fuck this,” One of the men said, tipping out all of Steve’s carefully selected vegetables on the dirty alley. “Just grab his wallet.”
A pair of strong hands hauled him to his feet – Steve was face to face with some track-suited thug, blond hair greasy and stinking of stale cigarettes. “You heard us. Wallet.”
“No chance.” Steve spat out, which got him a slap across the face that probably wouldn’t have hurt anyone else, but Steve was small and thin and it hurt like hell. “Let me go and we can settle this like men.”
The laughter around him was… well, really insulting, honestly. Steve wasn’t going to let some fratboy in sportswear laugh at him, so he kicked the guy holding him right in the balls. After that, things started to move a little faster.
Before he could so much as blink, he was thrown backwards, ‘little shit’ echoing in his mind. He grabbed what he could to defend himself – a trashcan lid, battered and stinking – but it was quickly ripped from his hands. Blows started to come, faster and harder, until he could hardly breathe and…
“Hey, Stevie?” A voice called out, coming from deep in the alley, where the street lamps didn’t quite reach. “That you?”
“Bu…ck?” Steve managed, before blacking out.
He woke up on a couch. His couch. His eyes snapped open, almost diving off the seat, but the pain that shot through him at even the slightest movement made him groan in pain. Yup, he was gonna feel that beat down for weeks at least. He hadn’t been aware of voices until they stopped, and:
“Hey, dude, your boyfriend is awake.”
The accent, the voice – it was the same guy that Steve had kicked in the balls – they were in his apartment! He tried to sit up, head swimming until a strong hand was on his shoulder, and Bucky’s face came into view. “Hey Stevie, you okay?”
Panic was forcing his heart to beat faster, lungs closing up. It was one thing to face down a group of thugs in the street, but having them in his house, with all his things… that was something else entirely.
“Does he need a doctor? I know a good guy, no questions asked.”
“He’s fine.” Bucky said, not breaking eye contact with Steve.
“He’s fine.” Four distinct voices repeated back.
“If you’ve finished putting all the stuff away you can go.” Bucky said, and Steve realised that he must have… done something.
“Yeah.” They repeated, and Steve… blinked. His heartrate was returning to normal, panic fading under the weird knowledge that Bucky had done something that meant that Steve wasn’t quite in danger. Not from the thugs who’d tried to mug him at least.
“And you’re going to forget this ever happened.”
“Yeah.”
There was a sound of shuffling feet and the tell-tale click of his door, and Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Bucky’s hand was still on his shoulder, warm and heavy. “You okay?”
Steve shook his head.
“Right, I guess… Um, I was in the area.” Bucky said, looking around. “I was gonna call you but I thought it might be weird, and then I caught a scent and… found you.”
Steve nodded, and that hurt too – making him wince. “They’d thrown all your shit around, so I… made em replace it.” Bucky said, sounding annoyed. “I mean, really, they didn’t have to do that, it’s just a waste of food.” He blinked, navy eyes darting toward the kitchen. “They paid for the new stuff, they won’t remember.” He paused. “Look, if it won’t freak you out, I can… help?” Bucky was saying, looking at Steve as though he wasn’t sure if he should even be asking. “It won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Steve blinked. He was pretty sure that trusting a vampire was probably a bad idea. He was also pretty sure that Bucky wouldn’t deliberately hurt him after saving him from being beaten to death… so…
He nodded.
“I swear it’s not gonna do anything to you,” Bucky was saying, lifting his wrist to his perfect, full lips. “It’s just gonna feel gross.” When he pulled his wrist away, there was a swipe of bright red over his mouth, and too soon for Steve to understand what was going on, he’d pressed his wrist to Steve’s mouth.
Blood passed his lips, and Steve gagged, trying to pull away.
He’d seen the movies – he’d been watching (and reading) a lot of vampire stuff since he’d found out about Bucky, and he was pretty sure that at some point, he was supposed to be filled with some rapturous delight that would make Bucky’s blood taste like the best thing to ever pass his lips. He waited, the bitter, sharp taste not becoming anything other than what it was. Blood. In his mouth. He gagged again, and Bucky pulled back. “Sorry, I said it was gross.”
“No shit.” Steve shot back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna throw up.”
It wasn’t until he was actually throwing up, head over the porcelain bowl, that he realised he’d ran to the bathroom.
And nothing hurt.
He had a shower, noted the even his old bruises were completely gone (even when he pushed hard where they had once been) and had put on a change of clothes before he walked back out into the living room. Bucky was still there – lounging on the couch with a book in his hand. Steve could feel the blush spread over his face when he realised it was Twilight.
“I made you a drink.” Bucky said, pushing a glass twice the size of the one Steve normally drank, towards him. “And your medication.”
His ‘medication’ consisted of three separate multivitamins and two iron tablets. All thoughts of thanking Bucky flew right out of his mind. “Are you trying to make me taste better?” He burst out, looking at the dark green juice and pills, and very aware that Bucky was starting to blush. He wasn’t even sure vampires could blush.
“No!”
“You are!” Steve shot back, grabbing the juice and the pills in his hands. He was going to throw both away, until he realised that he would probably just end up taking them later anyways, because he did feel a little better after taking them – although he certainly wasn’t taking them because some weird ass vampire wanted him to taste nicer. Figuring that a bit of a thank you was in order, but certainly not wanting to be the one to say it, Steve swallowed the pills with a deep gulp of the juice. It was nice, actually, one of the recipes he’d been making a lot of, despite the massive amounts of ingredients that it needed. He was a little concerned that Bucky knew that. “So,” he said, slouching down into the couch where he’d woken up. “You’re either stalking me like some pre-teen with a crush or you’re planning on killing me.”
Bucky didn’t look up from the book. Considering it was Twilight, Steve was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was lost in the stellar writing. “I already told you I don’t kill people.” He said, after a long moment. “And I’m not stalking you.”
“Yeah, okay.” Steve shrugged. “You just… what? Stumbled over me in a back alley completely at random?”
“I could smell the blood of some stuck up little punk getting the tar kicked out of him,” Bucky shot back. “And I needed a snack.” He glanced over at Steve. “Imagine my disappointment when the only one bleeding tastes like crap.”
“I already told you, I’m anaemic!”
Bucky snorted dismissively, and Steve bristled, before realising that (once again) he was actually about to start arguing that he was perfectly delicious to a man who could probably eat him. The laugh that bubbled up his throat took him (and Bucky) by surprise. “Have you already eaten?” Steve asked, once his burst of laughter had subsided.
“Yeah.”
“You wanna watch Netflix, or are you developing a crush on Edward Cullen now, too?”
Bucky threw the book at his head, not bothering to even wince in sympathy when it connected with the bridge of Steve’s nose.
And that was when it started.
Three weeks later, Bucky has a key to his apartment, and spent an hour or so every night badgering Steve about taking his vitamins and making sure he sticks to his juice drinks. The payoff for Steve is that when Bucky arrived, he brought the groceries – and there was much less chance of a mugging too – not that Bucky would mind, because Steve has discovered that Bucky can turn any situation his benefit. So sometimes he’d show up with a swipe of red over his bottom lip and Steve completely ignored the way he wanted to lick it off because that was fucking gross and Steve was weird.
But Bucky seemed to like the fact that Steve knew he was a vampire. He’d go off on rants about how it wasn’t like the fucking books, and that if Steve asked him one more time if he’d sparkle in the sunlight, he was going to beat him to death. He laughed at Steve’s love of old WWII documentaries and filled him in on what life was really like in the trenches. He sat on Steve’s couch and watched Steve drink his juice, and take his vitamins, and Steve fell stupid, crazily in love with him.
And Steve stubbornly refused to acknowledge that. Mostly because he was pretty sure the whole thing was a fucking joke, he was the teenage protagonist in a YA novel, he was the lamb to the lion, he was the stupid kid who thinks that a 90 year old vampire is going to be into someone born in 1980 (ish). He was pretty sure Bucky didn’t think of him like that, that was for sure. The other man would simply lounge on the couch, watching Steve for any sign of becoming slowly more appetising – and Steve was starting to realise that he was so far gone he’d actually let him.
“What the hell happened to you?” Steve asked, as Bucky actually fell through the door, looking like shit and smelling like death. There was a trail of blood on the wood, where Bucky had pushed the door open, and it took Steve a few seconds to realise that Bucky never seemed to have blood on his clothes when he’d been out looking for someone to nibble on (they all lived, Steve found out) and that the blood was actually coming from Bucky.
“Holy shit!” He gasped, scrambling to his feet, grabbing at Bucky who looked like he was a few moments away from passing out.
“I’m fine. Gimme a minute.”
“Holy shit, okay, okay – was it... a slayer?”
Even near death, Bucky was still able to roll his eyes. “Punk.”
“Jerk.” Steve shot back, without thinking. “Seriously, what... what happened?”
“Got hit by a stray bullet – was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He paused. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.”
“Why the hell are you near bullets?” Steve burst out, too loud for the room, especially since his door was still wide open and there was a trail of blood over his door. Great. Anyone saw that and...
Something sharp pinched the stop of his arm, and Steve jerked back, only to find himself held in place. “Are you biting me?” He snapped, jerking his head at where Bucky’s mouth was wrapped around his (admittedly tiny) bicep. His thin t-shirt wasn’t exactly covering him up.
Bucky rolled his eyes as though to give Steve a ‘duh’ and Steve could actually feel the other man’s teeth in his arm, the suction, the swipe of his tongue over skin. “I thought I tasted gross.”
Bucky snorted, which was not cool, especially since the action blew damp breath over Steve’s arm. He needed to remind himself that it wasn’t hot. The whole thing wasn’t hot. It wasn’t.
Fuck, it was hot.
“You taste better.” Bucky said, after he’d had a shower, washed down the freaking blood stain on the door and was sitting on the couch, watching Steve eat an omelette.
“Yeah?” He said, mouth full, not looking anywhere but the TV. Getting turned on by a being bitten wasn’t a new thing, right? He was pretty sure that was a kink. He was pretty sure he was going to go online as soon as Bucky left and Google the ever-loving crap out of that. When Bucky left. Which he seemed in no rush to do, even though he’d fully healed.
“Yeah.” Bucky said, leaning back and grinning. His teeth were a little crooked. It was one of those little things that Steve noticed, kind of adored, and then tried not to notice ever again. He had a long list of things that he noticed about Bucky that he was no longer trying to notice. Like how he had the longest eyelashes, or how his mouth was perfect for kissing, or how good he looked in his jeans, or his ass, or the way his eyes scrunched up when he laughed, or when he would roll his eyes at Steve when Steve was being a smart ass. Those things, Steve was trying not to notice. “I mean, you still taste like shit, but...”
Whatever he was going to say was masked behind the cushion Steve threw at his face. His laugh was loud, and warm, and Steve hated it.
(He didn’t hate it. He really, really didn’t hate it.)
“Don’t you have a job?” Steve asked, one night, looking up from the page he was translating. Bucky was sitting on the couch, feet kicked up onto the small table that Steve was using as a coffee table.
“Yeah.” Bucky said, not even looking over his shoulder at Steve. “It’s my day off.” He glanced at Steve and gave his best shit eating grin. "Hey, did you take your vitamins today?"
"Is that a nice way of asking if you can open one of my veins?" Steve replied as dryly as he could - because seriously, how was this his life?
"Yeah?" Bucky said, trying to look sheepish, but his pout looked more like a smirk. He probably knew just how hot Steve found the whole thing. "But I promise you I'll not make a mess, and I'll heal you up after..."
Puppy dog eyes looked up at him.
"Fine. Jesus."
“So I worked on the docks.” Bucky was explaining, feet on the table. “With my maw and three little sisters at home, and my ol’ man drunk more often than not.”
Steve was leaning back on his chair, listening with half an ear. He’d heard that story before – it was one of Bucky’s favourites to tell, the day he was turned. “And I was mad, cause he’d spent the last of the rent, and...” He grinned at Steve, head lolling over the back of the couch and not looking anything like a vampire on TV, or in any book Steve had ever read. He looked young. “And this slick gent, he’s got a thick wallet and I’ve got nothing to lose.” He looked up to make sure Steve was still paying attention, and winked when Steve nodded encouragingly, papers on his lap, half completed.
“So I tried my hand.” He laughed. “And he beat the ever-loving shit right outta me.”
Steve gave a non-committal hum. He knew how the story went.
“And I was there, in some back alley – bleeding to death – and this asshole, pulls out this knife – tells me he’s going to change my life.” He paused. “And next thing you know, I’m sitting there, covered in blood – and he’s walking away like... like it wasn’t nothing.”
He grins up at Steve again, and Steve ignores the way his heart flips over, because really.
What idiot falls in love with a vampire?
Steve knows it’s stupid. Knows it probably better than anyone else, because it’s not like he ever thought he’d be around a long time. His list of medical problems took up their own filing drawer at his doctors, and his heart alone was going to kill him one of these days. And Bucky was going to be young and beautiful forever, and Steve was so stupid, because he was the girl in a teen romance. Bucky might not be Edward Cullen, or Angel or Bill from True Blood – but Steve was Bella, and Buffy and Sookie all rolled into one colossally stupid lump. Seriously. Idiot.
“I gotta quit my job soon.” Bucky was saying. “I’ve been there for six years. Starting to look a bit weird with the whole not-aging thing.” Steve could hear the sounds of the Bucky half heartedly shuffling paperwork back and forth.
“You need to do that a lot?”
“Yeah.” Bucky said, “I normally just go somewhere else, another city.”
“You’re leaving?” He asked, because that was just the worst thing Steve could think of happening. Bucky just leaving, leaving like it was nothing. Steve wondered how many people like Steve he’d left through the years. Friends that never knew what happened.
“Nah,” came the reply. “I, uh, I think I might stick around a bit longer.” Down the phone it sounded more like a question than an answer and Steve was glad that Bucky wasn’t around to see the stupid expression of relief that played over his face, probably making him look like an ever bigger idiot than normal.
“It’s a big city.” Steve agreed. “I’m sure you can find someplace new to work where you won’t be recognised.”
“Yeah.” Bucky said. “Yeah.”
He was walking back to his apartment after a night of babysitting Kate so Clint and Natasha could celebrate their engagement at a swanky restaurant, when the lights turned. The streets were quiet, Tuesday’s at 3am were a bit like that, so he didn’t think twice to cross the street.
He was on his phone, because Bucky was making dinner.
“Seriously, it’s not even a vampire thing, it’s a ‘stinking of garlic’ thing.”
“You gotta have garlic bread with spaghetti, Buck, it’s not natural.”
“You’re not natural.”
Steve found himself laughing at Bucky’s insulted tone. “Coming from the immortal child of the night.” Steve scoffed. “Seriously, I love you, but the garlic bread better be in the oven when I get in.”
He only had a second before he realised what he’d said, the sharp intake of breath on the other end of line. Shit.
“Steve, I-”
The car hit him, speeding through the red light and obviously unaware of his presence. The cop car that was tailing him though, saw him thrown from the middle of the road, and called it in.
He could remember that he’d dropped his phone – tried to tell the cop – but must have passed out.
“Sir, you can’t go in there!” Someone was shouting, and bright lights shone down on his eyes, making his head hurt. “Sir!”
“And then I was walking home, right, and I saw this guy, nice suit – way too nice to be in my part of town. Silk tie and everything.” A voice was saying, somewhere in the distance. “And I thought, fuck it, my paw had just thrown the rent down his throat for the second month in a row, and Becca needed new shoes, so what did I haveta lose?” A laugh, Steve didn’t remember it being so bitter before. “He said he was gonna change my life, but he just walked away.” Steve wanted to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. It felt like the whole world was pushing down on his ribcage, and breathing hurt. “Stevie, I’m gonna change your life, and I promise, I’ll never, ever, walk away.”