i just wanted to let y’all know that i’m having a HUGE writers block right now TT

(this is totally not an excuse to get requests)

but- if you totally wanna request something go right ahead, my brain needs to be stimulated 🧚‍♀️

He’s about to open his phone when one of the ER nurses, Sam, comes in with a handful of files. “ER just got busy,” he says.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky says, taking the folders from Sam. He sets them down by the light box and pulls the first patient. He sticks the x-ray in the box and looks it over. 

“Bennett, Josie. Ten years old. Fell off her skateboard onto her wrist,” Sam supplies. 

Bucky’s fingers dance over the film. “She’s got a hairline fracture right here,” he says pointing to the head of her ulna. He pulls the x-ray from the box and hands it to Sam who places it back in the folder. Bucky quickly enters his notes into the computer by the light box as Sam pulls out another piece of film. 

“Tyler, Marcus. Sixty-five years old. Took a fall in the bathroom. Said his ankle just gave out on him.” 

Bucky places the film on the box and studies it. “I don’t see anything wrong here. He looks good.” Once again, he hands Sam the film and types his notes into the computer. 

“Whoa!” Sam says. “You’re gonna want to actually see this patient,” he says, smirking. 

“I don’t DO patients,” Bucky says, grumpiness seeping through. “You know that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna wanna do this one. Got an excellent Throckmorton’s Sign on it.” 

“What are you? Twelve?” Bucky asks, holding out his hand for the film. As soon as he puts it in the light box, he knows Sam is right. Holy shit. That’s a hell of a Throckmorton. It’s been a long time since he’s seen a dick that big flaccid. Bucky whistles in appreciation. 

“I told you,” Sam says. “Rogers, Steve. Thirty-one. Fell off a ladder onto his left hip.” 

“He’s lucky,” Bucky says. “I don’t see anything.” 

“Other than that huge dick of his?” Sam says. 

“Shut up, Wilson.” 

“You want to tell him he’s good?” Sam teases.

Bucky pauses and thinks for a moment. “Is he cute?”

Sam nods. “I’m thinking about asking him out.” 

“You’re straight.”

“My point.” 

“All right, let’s go,” Bucky says. He quickly grabs a Post-It and writes “Back in Ten” on it, slapping it on the door on the way out. 

When they get to the ER, Sam hands Bucky the file and directs him to the bay Steve is in. Bucky takes a breath and pulls back the curtain. “Mr. Rogers?”

The man who turns to face him is fucking gorgeous. Bucky is a little awestruck by his beauty. Sculpted jaw and cheekbones, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, lips that look like they could suck the chrome off a bumper. 

“Yeah,” he says, shifting a bit in the bed. He’s still in some pain apparently. “What’s up, doc?” he says, unironically. 

“Sorry. I’m your radiologist, Bucky. I just wanted to let you know that your x-ray looks good and after Dr. Stark goes over it with you, you’ll probably be free to go.” 

“Nothing’s broken?” Steve asks. 

“Not that I could see. Now, the doc may have you go for an MRI to be sure, but there’s nothing on the x-ray I could see.” 

“That’s a good thing,” Steve says. 

“Very.” Bucky takes a deep breath before he continues. “Look, this is going to sound weird -”

“Okay….”

“But I saw you come in earlier,” (a little white lie won’t hurt anyone) “and I know you’re in some discomfort -”

“Pain. Pain is the word I’d use,” Steve says. 

“Fair enough. But I don’t suppose that when you’re up and able, you’d want to get a coffee or something?” 

Steve’s mouth drops open and Bucky knows he’s gone too far. He’s gonna get reported and fired for sure. At least his resume is up to date. He thinks. He really should check on that. 

“You’re asking me out.”

“Yes?” Bucky says hesitantly. 

“While I’m in the ER.” 

“Okay, you know what? Bad idea.” Bucky turns to leave the enclosure. 

“No, no. I didn’t say it was a bad idea.” 

“No?”

“Just, really, really unexpected.”

Just then the curtain flings open and Dr. Stark stands there. “Hey, Barnes. Whatcha doing here?”

“I was just, uh, letting Mr. Rogers know that his x-ray looks good.”

“Huh. Isn’t that my job?” Stark asks. He holds out his hands for the file, which Bucky hands him. Stark pulls the x-ray out of the folder and holds it up to the light. “Nice Throckmorton,” he says. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a spot on the pelvis.” He side eyes Bucky, who blushes and looks away. “If Barnes says you’re good to go, you probably are,” Stark says. 

“No MRI?” Steve asks. 

“No. I’d say follow up with your ortho in two to four days. If you’re still having pain, he or she may send you for one. What’s your pain level now?”

“Probably about a five,” Steve says. 

“I’ll write you a script for some Tylenol with codeine. Take them only if you really feel the need too. Otherwise, you should be fine with Aleve. Nice meeting you, Mr. Rogers.” Stark walks out, but not before shoving Steve’s file at Bucky, leaving the two of them alone again. 

“The nurse should be along to discharge you soon,” Bucky says. “I’d better get going.” 

“Wait,” Steve says. “You haven’t given me your number yet.” 

“Oh. OH. You still want to…?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I want to. You might have to give me a few days to heal up, though.” 

Sigh. 

Mr. Barnes. To say that Steve harbors a crush for him is putting it mildly. It’s only natural. Mr. Barnes is one of the most recognized - and good-looking - figures in town. He’s the owner of Barnes Pharmaceuticals, the largest such company on the east coast. He’s a single father to his daughter, his wife having died in a car accident several years ago. 

Steve straightens up as Mr. Barnes makes his way to Steve’s desk. Steve stands, and holds out his hand for Mr. Barnes to shake. Steve tries not to be too self-conscious of his smaller frame in front of Mr. Barnes’ large one. Mr. Barnes is an imposing figure, impeccably dressed, and Steve wishes he could take a Klonopin to calm his nerves. 

“Steve. Good to see you,” Mr. Barnes says, shaking his small hand. 

“You, too, Mr. Barnes.” 

“Please, call me Bucky.” 

Steve makes a gesture for him to sit as Steve sits himself. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need to set up a savings account for my daughter.” 

“Absolutely. I can do that for you.” Steve reaches into the drawer next to him to pull out the necessary paperwork. 

“And I’d like to set it up so that it drafts a thousand dollars a week from my personal checking into her savings account.”

As Steve begins to fill in the sheet, he says, “I wish you were my daddy and put money into my account.” And he freezes. Did he just say that out loud? Fuck. 

“What was that?” Bucky asks in a tone that suggests he simply didn’t hear him. 

“Nothing, sorry,” Steve says. He feels his face flush with heat as he avoids Mr. Barnes’ eyes. He pulls up the program he needs on his computer and takes care of the transaction efficiently and with no more fuckups. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. He takes the transaction over to the teller’s stations to complete it. On the way back to his desk, his eyes meet Mr. Barnes’ and Steve gives just the faintest hint of a smile. Maybe he’ll get out of this situation with his dignity intact. 

“There you go,” he says, handing the receipt to him. “Oh, I just need one more signature.” He points to the spot on the paper which Mr. Barnes signs in his elegant text. “Thank you. Is there anything else I can do for you today?” 

“I think that’ll do it,” Mr. Barnes says, standing. “Thank you, Steve.” He claps Steve gently on the shoulder, leans into Steve, so that only he can hear and says, “I’ll call you later on the whole daddy thing.” 

Bucky wakes slowly. He glances over at the other side of the bed where Steve’s small frame is snuggled up under a blanket like a pea in a pod, all tucked in. He smiles at the absurdity of it all. That he gets to have this man in his bed every night is like a dream come true. 

They’d danced around their attraction to each other for years, finally giving in when Steve had gotten sick a few winters back and Bucky was afraid that that was it for Steve. They still have to be careful considering that even as enlightened as people are in 1941, a man loving another man is, to put it mildly, frowned upon. 

But they’ve got each other, and that’s what matters. They put up appearances like they’re just best friends, which really isn’t far from the truth. They were friends long before they were lovers, so keeping up the charade is fairly easy. Bucky still goes on the occasional date, but he always comes home to Steve. 

His Steve. 

He smiles as he takes in Steve’s sleeping form and shivers. He supposes that’s what he gets for sleeping naked. It’s a little chilly in their apartment, but Bucky’s got the best heater in the world next to him, so he carefully lifts the blanket and snuggles up to Steve, who’s just as naked as he is. 

Bucky snakes an arm around Steve’s middle while pressing his body up against Steve’s. He wiggles a little to find the most comfortable position. As he does, he realizes he’s getting hard, and he gets an idea. He nuzzles Steve’s neck as he thrusts his hips gently, so as not to wake him, or at least wake him up slowly. 

He lets go of Steve, reaches back to the nightstand, and fumbles for the Vaseline. He quickly scoops some out and slathers his dick with it. He rubs the leftover between Steve’s thighs, making him stir just a little. 

Bucky snuggles in again, this time pushing his dick into the space between Steve’s legs. He gives a few tentative thrusts as he puts his arm back around Steve, this time, grasping his cock firmly and stroking it in time with his thrusts. 

“Oh, Stevie,” he coos. “Time to wake up, baby.” 

Steve stirs and tries to stretch, but he’s constricted by Bucky’s form, practically draped over him. “Mmm, Buck?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Whtacha doin’?” Steve asks even as he pushes back into Bucky’s hips, his hand reaching back to pull Bucky closer. 

“I was cold,” Bucky says matter-of-factly. “Trying to get warm.”

Steve twists around so he can kiss Bucky. They kiss lazily, keeping pace with Bucky’s slow thrusting. Steve pushes back into Bucky, trying to get him to move faster. Bucky takes the hint and picks up the pace, his cock sliding along Steve’s perineum, nudging the back of his balls. 

“Please, Buck. Faster.” 

Bucky picks up the pace just a little. He swipes his thumb over the head of Steve’s dick and rubs the precome over the glans, making Steve suck in a breath. Bucky’s breathing becomes labored as he thrusts harder. Steve opens his mouth, a silent curse on his lips. 

“You like that, baby?” Bucky asks. Steve can’t answer - he’s getting close, Bucky can tell. Which is just fine, because so is Bucky. “Gonna come for me, Stevie?” All Steve can do is nod. 

Bucky’s pace falters as he gets closer to the edge. He nibbles on Steve’s ear, and that’s it for Steve as he comes all over Bucky’s fist. Another few thrusts and Bucky comes between Steve’s legs, making more of a mess over Steve. 

They lay there a moment, trying to catch their breath. Bucky is first to move as he rolls away from Steve and finds the Kleenex on the nightstand. He pulls a few tissues from the box and coaxes Steve to open his legs so he can clean him up. 

Once they’re not quite so sticky, Steve rolls over into Bucky’s chest and throws his leg over Bucky’s. His fingers dance over Bucky’s chest. “I love you, Bucky,” he says softly. 

He’s on line at the Starbucks drive through with an order for Natasha, in her big-ass truck, even. Why he agreed to take it, he’s still wondering considering how high up the cab is. He’s going to have to practically lean outside the window to place his order. Maybe he should just go inside. 

Fuck it. He’s already here. Might as well see it through. The line inches forward and he’s at the ordering kiosk. He’s right. He does have to lean out of the window to place the order. He sighs and checks his phone as he waits for the barista. 

“It’s a great day at Starbucks, this is Bucky, what can I get started for you?” 

“Can I get a tall black American?” 

There’s silence on the other end. Steve’s not sure he was heard, so he repeats the order. 

“Do you mean an Americano?” Bucky’s voice comes back. 

“A tall black American,” Steve repeats. 

“I’m pretty sure you mean an Americano. Otherwise, you’re on the wrong line, man.” 

Steve looks at the text from Natasha. It clearly says tall black American. It must be an autocorrect. Fuck. 

“Yeah. An Americano,” Steve says. He hears the guy in the car behind him laughing his ass off. He blushes furiously as he sits back in the truck and pulls around the corner of the drive through. 

As he gets up to the window, the barista, Bucky, laughs at him. “You wanted the tall black American?”

“Yeah, I’d be grateful if you’d forget I ever said that,” Steve says. 

Bucky hands him the coffee as Steve presents his card for payment. “Not a chance.” He pauses before adding, “Would you like a receipt?” 

“Sure. We’ll call it a work expense.”

“Gotcha,” Bucky says. He rips the receipt off the register, but doesn’t hand it to Steve right away. “Tell you what,” he says, clicking a pen open. “If you’d consider a moderately tall white barista, here’s my number.” He hands Steve the receipt and winks. “Seriously, that was the best laugh I’ve had in awhile.” 

Steve takes the receipt and blushes. “I’ll do that,” he says as the guy in the car behind him shouts a “Woo hoo! Get it!” 

Steve’s breathing is labored, barely able to get a full breath. Bucky lays next to him, breathing just as hard. They’re naked, tangled in each other, snuggling close. 

“That was….”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “It was.” 

They laugh. Fucking for them is always good, even when they’re both pissed at each other, but this time seems special. Bucky detagles himself from Steve and stands. Steve pouts at the loss of the warmth. 

“I’m just getting a cloth,” Bucky says as he makes his way to the bathroom. He runs the sink, getting the water warm and pulls a washcloth out of the cabinet. He wets it, squeezes it out, and wipes off his cock. He hisses at the bit of sensitivity still there. Once done, he rinses the cloth and takes it into the bedroom to wipe down Steve. 

Bucky sits on the bed. “Lemmie see,” he says to Steve. 

“Don’ wanna,” Steve slurs, still high from his orgasm. 

“Come on, Punk. Gotta get you cleaned up.” 

Reluctantly, Steve lays back and pulls his legs up to his chest exposing his well-used and puffy hole. He sucks in a breath when Bucky touches the cloth to him, gently wiping him down. He hums in approval. “Beautiful,” he mutters. 

When a little bit of come dribbles out of Steve’s hole, Bucky can’t help but lean forward and lick it up. He smiles when Steve gasps at the intrusion. “You okay, sweetheart?” Bucky asks. 

“Y-yeah,” Steve mumbles. “Feels good.” 

Bucky places his thumbs on either side of Steve’s hole and pushes a little, coaxing more come out. He licks that up as well. 

Steve sucks in another breath. “Okay, maybe a little sensitive,” he says. 

Bucky takes pity on him and sits back. He wipes Steve’s hole once more, tosses the cloth in the direction of the bathroom, and crawls up Steve’s body, grabbing his ass and kissing him as he goes. “Hi,” he says when he gets to Steve’s face. 

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Good. Good.”