#jack files

don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s nothe’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that i’ve got

cas ur so right i love the civil wars omg ??? it fits them ?? so much ???

cas i know exactly what you’re doing, but i guess i’m writing it anyway

“Bucky, Bucky, not here, we need to meet— shit,” Steve moaned, though his words weren’t firm in his conviction. Instead he tilted his head to the side, so Bucky’s lips could travel up the column of his neck. He shivered, clutching weakly at Bucky’s hips when he felt a smile forming without his doing. 

Bucky hummed, hands roaming down the length his shirt, then he leaned back, giving Steve the view of a lifetime. Bucky’s low-lidded gaze and his newly cut hair a mess with the barest hint of stubble covering his jaw. He looked like he was ready to ruin him. “Baby, it’s not like Sam or Clint are here.”

“Well, first of all you’re wrong. Man, I love you guys, but you really need to keep it in your pants after the show,” Sam quipped, lounging on the arm of the chair Clint sat on. Steve rolled his eyes and tugged back his shirt down to a respectable level. Bucky groaned and walked over to Clint, snatching the chips from him and munched on them. Steve sat down at the edge of one of the sofas and picked up a spare water bottle, chugging it down.

Clint said, “Hey! I’m hungry, Barnes.” 

“And you guys cockblocked me, so I think that this is a fair trade,” Bucky said, plopping his down at the other end and placing his legs in Steve’s lap. Steve shook his head when Bucky motioned the bag in his direction. 

“We need to record the next song,” Steve said, rubbing his hair in one hand. “Nat’s gonna meet up us at the hotel to set up.” 

“Ah, fuck I thought that was after the Atlanta gig,” Clint groaned, “I had a date with a pizza and my bed.” 

Sam snorted and Steve grinned, then said, “The bed’s outta the question, but pizza sounds good. Let’s meet up with Nat in twenty.”

“I got pizza duty,” Clint shot up, almost knocking Sam down. 

“I’ll join him,” Sam added after a moment, wiggling his eyebrows at them before he bounced out.

“They’re idiots,” Bucky said, fondly. 

Steve chuckled because he wasn’t wrong. They probably all were, but they had to be a little bit stupid to agree to get signed by HYDRA when they were just teenagers, but their fans made their experience worth it. When everything seemed hopeless, some of their fans were just so supportive. Maybe a little too supportive at times (at least he was glad that they weren’t homophobic) because he and Bucky were still heavily closeted. 

There was a knock on the door before Sharon came out, face pinched and Steve’s heart dropped. Sharon said, “Pierce requested to meet you, Bucky.”

“And by request you mean order,” Bucky said flatly and Sharon came over and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently before she handed him a plane ticket then headed out. 

“Sorry, Bucky,” was the last thing she said before she closed the door.

Steve could see Bucky restraining not to clench the ticket in his hand. He laid a hand on Bucky’s ankle and wanted to do nothing more than to punch Pierce in the face, but that wouldn’t help anyone. Punching their bullies away was still a habit he never got over, even when he went through his growth spurt and grew to tower over most of the assholes he encountered.

Bucky gritted out, “Was I acting too fucking gay today? Or was it because I looked at you for more than two damn seconds?”

Steve’s heart broke when there was a little hitch in Bucky’s speech, and he laid down on Bucky’s stomach, hugging him like it would make all the bad go away if he did. Bucky’s breath was shaky when he exhaled. 

Steve felt a warm hand card through his hair and then he spoke, “Buck, I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Bucky said, placing a soft kiss on his head before he wriggled out of their embrace. “Tell the others to record without me. I have a meeting to get to.”