Chapter Text
While Bucky had enjoyed flirting with none other than Captain America, he hadn’t really meant anything by it, and hadn’t really expected Steve to keep his number nor actually message him.
But a week later, that’s exactly what happened.
Unknown Number: Hi, James, it’s Steve Rogers. I have to attend a fundraiser in a few weeks and need your fashion expertise. Can you please help a guy out?
Bucky saved the number in his phone under ‘Mr America’, along with a handful of American flag emojis, and quickly typed a reply.
Bucky: didn’t I ask you to call me bucky???
Mr America: You did, sorry. So, how about it? You willing to help me out?
Bucky: im surprised you didnt just call tbh, how do you even know how to text???? and why are you so formal???
The texting part wasn’t so shocking to Bucky — he knew the guy wasn’t the grandpa everyone liked to think he was — but he couldn’t help fucking with him anyway.
Mr America: I’ll have you know I was only 26 when I woke up in this century. Ice years don’t count. Can you help or not?
Bucky: sorry, i couldnt help myself. id be happy to help :) send me some pics of your outfit choices and i’ll give you my expert opinion
There were a few minutes of silence after Bucky sent that last text, and he was wondering if he’d offended Steve enough that he no longer wanted Bucky’s help. But that was stupid — his teasing was only light and it seemed Steve had really wanted advice, enough to contact him in the first place.
God, Steve must really be having a fashion emergency if he had to resort to contacting Bucky.
Finally, after almost ten minutes, Bucky’s phone pinged with a new text.
Mr America: This is hopeless. Are you busy right now?
If watching Netflix in his underwear meant he was busy, then yeah, he was.
Bucky: nooooo….. why?
Mr America: You’d better just come over to the tower. I’ll let Jarvis know I’m expecting you.
And, well, shit, Bucky couldn’t believe his luck.
He quickly got dressed and made his way to the tower ASAP, pulling off his leather gloves once he was inside the giant and very warm lobby. There was a reception desk to the right, and as he started over towards it the closest receptionist looked up at him and smiled.
“Mr Barnes,” she greeted, and Bucky was taken aback. He knew he shouldn’t have been shocked that a receptionist of the Avengers knew who he was, but it was still a little startling. “Captain Rogers has been notified you’re here. Please take this identification card and scan it at the optical turnstiles, then head through to elevator number three.”
“Uh, thank you.” Bucky gave her his winning smile and accepted the pass she held out to him. It was a plastic card with one of his headshots from his modelling agency to one side, then his name, date of birth, and contact details to the other. At the top it proclaimed he was a guest to the Avengers, and on the back there was fine print describing that his pass could be used to access private floors and general entry to the tower, but that it could be disabled at any time with no forewarning necessary.
With that in mind, Bucky headed over to the elevator.
Once he was inside, a disembodied British voice greeted Bucky, before the elevator started moving without any prompting. “My name is JARVIS, Mr Stark’s AI. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I will be able to hear you from any room.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in my mind.”
It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination at all, and Steve was waiting for Bucky on the other side. He looked nervous, shoulders all hunched while he leaned against the wall, but the second he saw Bucky his whole demeanor brightened.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Steve greeted, standing awkwardly as if he didn’t know whether to give Bucky a handshake or not. “I hope it isn’t too much trouble.”
Bucky waved him off and glanced around. “Not at all, don’t worry about it. I can officially put ‘Avenger personal stylist’ on my resume.” He grinned at Steve and put a hand on his hip. “So what’re we working with?”
Steve seemed to fold in on himself again, sheepish. “Well, that’s the problem. Let me show you.”
Bucky followed him further into the ridiculously large apartment, to a living space where two suits were hanging up. One was generic black tie formal, while the other was a plain black three-piece.
“Are these your only suits?” Bucky questioned, a little taken aback. It wasn’t unusual for the average man to have so few suits, but for a public figure like Steve who went to many events and galas? Unheard of.
“Yeah, that’s all of them, now you understand my dilemma.” Steve gestured to the black tie suit. “I wear this to pretty much every fancy event, sometimes with the bowtie, sometimes without. The other… uh, the other suit is the one I wore to the funeral of somebody very important to me. I can’t bear to wear it again.”
Pausing for a moment, Bucky reached out and and laid a comforting hand on Steve’s arm. “Hey, that’s completely understandable. It’s more normal than you’d think to form an emotional attachment to the clothing you were wearing at certain times. I still have the outfit I wore to my first photoshoot when I was a teenager. It’s horribly out of style now, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.”
“Thanks, Bucky, I’m glad you get it.” Steve shot him a small smile, then nodded back to the suits. “So, you got any suggestions?”
“We go shopping.” Bucky grinned, wide, at both his statement and Steve’s horrified reaction to it. “Bring your black tie suit, we’re gonna need it.”
The dread that had filled Steve the second Bucky had uttered the word ‘shopping’ was replaced with relief once he saw that they were only going to a hole-in-the-wall tailor, and not the brightly lit mall that he’d been fearing. Bucky greeted the tailor in Italian, before telling him all about Steve’s fashion dilemma. The man, who Steve soon learned was named Giuseppe, approached him.
“James tells me you are absolutely hopeless, so we’ll choose the colors and designs, then you can let us know if you like them, sound good?”
“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
“I’m glad you agree.” Giuseppe gestured to a curtained-off section of the shop. “Please change into your suit, then stand on the platform so I can take your measurements.”
Steve did as he was told, suddenly feeling nervous again. He’d had his measurements taken before, but that had been for his Cap costume back in the 40s. His measurements were on file, and had been used when making his modern uniforms. But obviously neither Bucky nor Giuseppe had access to those files, and to be fair, tailoring a suit was far different to creating a costume with padding and armour for protection.
Giuseppe was quick and efficient with taking Steve’s measurements, for which Steve was grateful. Then he headed over to a wall of fabrics, eyeing them for only a few moments before he turned to Bucky. “James, come help me decide.”
Bucky headed over and together the two men went back and forth over different materials in varying shades of blue, maroon, grey, and even green. They brought the swathes of fabric over and held them up to Steve’s shoulder, comparing the shades with his skin tone and hair.
“Hmm,” Bucky mused. “Maybe we should swap the maroon for a burgundy. The steel blue is nice, but I feel like we should get ultramarine as well.”
“You’re right.” Giuseppe nodded, chin in his hand as he observed the colours they had selected. “I’m definitely liking the onyx, and the midnight green. It would make a beautiful three-piece.”
They hurried off and collected all the desired fabrics, and briefly brought them over to Steve for his approval. He didn’t know much about fashion, but he liked the colors they had chosen, and found himself proud that he spoke their language, so to say.
As an artist, it was nice to hear people use actual shade names when talking about colors… and it was nice to actually understand. He was well and truly integrated into modern society, and he liked to keep up with pop culture references and modern slang, but there were times when people referenced something from the decades he was in the ice, and it would knock him for a loop.
Steve relaxed into a velvet armchair and watched Giuseppe and Bucky pore over illustrations and suit designs. He was interested in the images, but purely as an artist. He resisted the urge to go over there just in case they asked for more of his input. He was an artist, yes, but he sure as well had no knowledge in fashion design.
Bucky did, of course. Not as much as Giuseppe, obviously, but as a model he had worked closely with designers before. Steve found himself entranced by the way Bucky pointed to different elements of the designs, the way his brow furrowed or his mouth quirked at the side. Like when Steve had first seen him on that runway, his fingers twitched with the urge to draw him, more a need than a want.
Surely he could just ask Bucky to be his model, that was his job after all. But Bucky barely knew him, and while Steve figured he could pay Bucky for his time, he’d rather it be a more intimate moment, even platonically as friends. Something Bucky could enjoy just as much as Steve.
To become friends, Steve would have to see Bucky more often. Maybe he could ask Bucky to be his date to the fundraiser? Steve instantly banished the idea. It was not only too forward, but Steve was nowhere near ready to come out yet. The part of himself that wanted to come out for the sake of the LGBT community warred with the part of himself that cherished his privacy and goal to stay under the radar while he was Steve, not Captain America. Oh, and then there was also the fact it would most likely tarnish Cap’s reputation.
To not out himself, Steve could simply use his inept fashion sense as a way to continue seeing Bucky in future. Suits were now out of the equation - they’d chosen so many fabrics because Bucky insisted that Steve get several suits now so he wouldn’t be put in a situation like this again. But his casual wardrobe was still lacking, so it was entirely plausible that Steve would contact Bucky for more mundane fashion expertise.
Yes, that was exactly what he’d do.