Chapter Text
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
“Don’t take too much-”
“-off the top, yeah yeah, right right, thousand times now” Bucky groused, scissors in hand.
Steve was seated in front of him, shirtless and in his boxers because they didn’t have those fancy capes that barbers had and princess here didn’t want to get bits of hair on his clothes.
“You took too much off last time, excuse me if I want to be sure” Steve shot back.
Bucky paused his clipping, one hand on his hip as he held the scissors up. “You wanna fork over a twenty for a professional?”
“Don’t start that again”
“I’ll start whatever I damn want, you either shaddup or you can take the clippers to your own head”
Steve waved him off without turning back, keeping his head perfectly still for his haircut, a lesson learned early on after a botched attempt.
Steve though, good ol’ Steve, needed his hair just so. Which meant bi-weekly cuts, and that was every two weeks, thank god not twice a week. And while they could technically afford to go to the barber that often, the cheapskates they were balked at the very idea.
So here Bucky was, trimming Steve’s hair to just how he liked it: buzzed on the sides and little on the back of the neck, fading into a nice trim until it sat just slightly longer on the top and a nice coif in the front.
And people thought Bucky was vain for his hair.
Snip snip snip.
Bucky continued the trimming in silence, moving around Steve to get all his sides right. There was no mirror in front of them seeing as this was being done in the kitchen, but that was more for an easier cleanup. Steve just had to trust he would get it right, which Bucky didn’t get what the big deal was. Worst case, he’d mess up and Steve would have to have a bad haircut for a couple weeks before trimming all over again. Bucky wasn’t worried, they’d done this same song and dance for years now.
Snip snip-
“ASSEMBLE ALERT! ASSEMBLE ALERT!”
Bucky paused his trimming, swearing under his breath.
“Gaddammit” Steve swore, wiping the little flecks of hair off his shoulders as he stood.
That was the assemble alarm, meaning there was some threat the Avengers were being called to. Lucky them, they were on-call this week.
“How’s it look?” Steve asked, turning to Bucky.
“You’re gonna be in a helmet, why the fuck does it matter how it looks?”
Steve turned and made his way to the bedroom where they kept their gear. “I swear if you gave me another bad cut-”
“Oh, Miss New York wants to win the pageant, huh?”
“Eat my ass, been givin’ me two cuts a month and you still fuck it up”
This riveting conversation was kept up as the two of them changed into their gear, Steve slipping into his suit with ease, Bucky less so as he had to do up the figurative hundreds of buckles, and avoid poking himself with the literal dozens of knives he kept on his person.
Last was Steve’s shield which he slotted onto the harness at his back, then the two of them were making their way out to the garage, where their bikes were. Bucky had a momentary urge to grab one of the many guns he had tucked away in their home, but no, those were for emergencies. His official guns were kept safe and sound at Avengers’ tower, where they would rendezvous with the rest of the schmucks who were on-call this fine Wednesday evening.
“Does it say what it is?” Bucky asked, still clipping on a few more buckles as they made their way down the stairs that led to the garage.
Steve pulled out his special phone that was used only during Avengers calls, opening it to read what the memo was.
“Says it’s aliens and Hydra”
Bucky swore. That was never a winning combo.
“And where are they?”
“Peru, near Puerto Diaz if you know where that it”
“Haha” Bucky said flatly at Steve’s poor joke. He liked to call him a walking GPS because he happened to have many geographies memorized. Funny guy.
They got to their bikes and mounted.
“Really though, it’s not a rat’s nest or anything, is it?”
“Je-sus Stevie, if I hear one more word-”
“Yeah yeah, I’ll be cuttin’ my own hair. Now answer the question”
“Ought to just buzz it all” Bucky muttered, putting on his bike helmet.
“Is my hair a mess or not?”
“It’s fine! Quit bein’ such a baby, you’re gonna be in a helmet most of the day anyway”
“Mister-I-Need-Six-Conditioners here givin’ me flack”
“My hair gets dry!”
Steve scoffed as he put on his own helmet.
“Punk”
“Jerk”
They started their engines, then the two of them were peeling out in sync, off to Avengers’ HQ.