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Bucky hadn’t expected to like the sound of his old nickname coming out of John’s mouth so much. When Sam had said it, all those years ago, it had felt wrong. Intrusive.
When John had said it- heat of the moment, gasping and panting under him- it had sent a frisson of heat down into his stomach. It had felt right. Welcome.
Like coming home.
He wants John to say it again. The problem, however, is that John refuses to call him by the name- unless he is sweaty and panting underneath him, mind forgotten in pleasure- so Bucky is resorting to some more… extreme measures.
Like today.
“Hey, Bucky, you finish that report yet?” Bucky ignores John, casually turning a page of his book. “Bucky? Bucky!”
When Bucky feels it’s clear that he is ignoring John on purpose, he lowers his book enough to peer at John over the top of it.”I told you to call me ‘Buck,’” he says calmly.
Almost immediately, an uncomfortable look crosses over John’s face. “Oh. I- uh… I kinda thought you meant only when we… you know.” Bucky shakes his head. “Okay, um, Buck.”
He nods in approval. “It should be on the desk in your room.” Where it all started, he doesn’t say. Hopefully John will appreciate the reminder.
“Thanks,” John says and stumbles backward, red dusting his cheeks.
The next time John says it, Bucky doesn’t really have a chance to appreciate it, as he’s being tackled by a squid-looking creature the size of a minivan. He’s thrown off the 18-wheeler he was standing on, impacting hard with the macadam. The wind is knocked out of him, and he chokes on his next breath as the creature goes bounding off.
Knees skid to a halt next to him. “You okay?” A gloved hand takes him by the elbow, helping him up.
“I’m fine,” he says, dusting himself off, then taking off after the creature, John a step behind him.
They finally manage to subdue the thing, but John’s shout that half-second before impact lingers in Bucky’s mind.
The time after that, they’re all having dinner together. Not just the Thunderbolts, but some of the other Avengers as well, namely Sam and Joaquin.
Dinner is good. Chicken, roasted vegetables, wine and beer- it’s a feast. Sam had cooked as it was his idea to get them all together. Some of his own team couldn’t make it, but that was okay- the Thunderbolts were unique in that most of their family was already there.
“Hey, Bucky, can you pass the salt?” Unthinking, Bucky does what he’s always done when John calls him by the wrong name, and ignores him.
On his other side, Yelena nudges his elbow. “Walker asked you for the salt.”
Shit. He hadn’t quite meant to enforce the rule in public like this, but now that he has- subtly- he can’t go back on it. Bucky looks up and meets John’s gaze. “Ask me again. Properly.”
Immediately, John’s ears turn bright red, and there’s some muttering off to the side that says they’ve garnered the attention of the others at the table. Something in John’s gaze flickers. “Buck. Can you pass me the salt please?”
Bucky rewards him with a small smile, and hands him the requested item. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say ‘good boy,’ but he holds off. Barely.
“Wait,” comes a protest from Sam’s end of the table. “I thought you didn’t like being called ‘Buck.’ You told me only Steve could call you that.”
“And now John,” Bucky replies casually. The red of John’s ears spreads down to his neck.
“Does that mean I get to call you ‘Buck’ now?”
“No.”
“Why not? I’ve known you longer than him,” Sam says, gesturing at John.
Bucky doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, but you're not the one I want shouting my name as he co-” A small hand over his mouth prevents him from finishing his sentence. John is looking down at his plate, red burning brighter. Bucky glares at Yelena, and she removes her hand.
There’s a beat of silence, then “Ohhh… congratulations then?”
“Thanks.”
Across from him, John buries his face in his hands. “I just wanted the goddamn salt.”