Chapter Text
Lunch the next day could only be described as a complicated affair. Bucky had just gotten out of Spanish III and was heading over to his friends’ usual spot, carrying his soggy bagel sandwich. All he wanted was to monopolize his usual bench and soak up some of the weak fall sunlight.
But as soon as he got there and saw what was waiting, he turned around and left.
“Heeeey, Buck! Buckooo!” Tony’s loud, obnoxious voice shattered the calm midday atmosphere. “Where you going?”
Bucky took a deep breath, then exhaled, closing his eyes. Peace. Calm. Tranquility. Tony would not ruin his vibes today.
“Come on, Bucky!” he heard Nat call. “What are you so afraid of?” He knew that if he turned he’d see her grinning wickedly over at him. Leave it to Natalya Romanova to put aside personal beef to antagonize Bucky.
Hoping at least Clint would be on his side—well, not that that was likely—Bucky turned around, sitting down next to Tony with a resigned sigh. The guy was taking up space on his bench. How was he supposed to sprawl now?
Clint was nonchalantly tucking into whatever was in his thermos, glancing past the rim every now and then to survey the atmosphere. “Hey,” Bucky said, aiming a dark glare at him. “What’s up with this?”
“Tony asked if he could sit with us,” Nat said through a mouthful of pasta. “‘Cause Killmonger keeps calling him a bootlicker.”
It took all of Bucky’s willpower not to snort. Tony, as annoying as he was, didn’t deserve to be laughed at. At least not right now.
“I shouldn’t have to take this from a guy who goes by his Fortnite tag IRL,” Tony huffed.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a bootlicker then,” Clint replied flatly.
Bucky couldn’t hold his laugh in at that, thoroughly losing it at Tony’s indignant face. “I mean…diamond-studded pen, dude.”
“Okay, fine. I’m a bootlicker. So what? ” Tony put his nose in the air. “Does that make me a bad person or something?”
“By definition, yeah,” Nat said, nearly choking on her pasta. “You don’t come to a school full of socialists and expect not to get made fun of.”
Tony was looking a little miserable by this point, so Bucky punched him lightly in the arm. “Hey, cheer up. We’re just giving you a hard time, but we’ll stop if you want.”
Tony relaxed a little. “Nah, I get it. And anyway, ‘full of socialists,’ huh? I don’t think the three of you, Killmonger, and Steve exactly constitute a majority here.”
Bucky cut Nat off before she could deliver a doubtlessly witty retort. “Wait. Steve’s a socialist?”
“Yeah?” Tony tilted his head. “Haven’t you read any of his essays? He’s so lefty it hurts.”
“I…No.” That had never come up during tutoring. Steve helped Bucky with APLAC, not the other way around. Maybe I’ll ask him about it today, Bucky pondered.
“Lost in thought, Barnes?” Clint nudged him in the calf with his toe.
“Wonder why,” remarked Nat.
“Yeah Bucky… lost in thought?” Tony echoed. “I don’t actually know what’s going on,” he added after a second. “I just think he needs to be taken down a peg.”
“Ha, peg,” muttered Clint, dissolving them all into laughter again.
By the time the bell rang, Bucky had finished his sandwich and also decided that maybe Tony was around fifteen percent more tolerable than he’d originally thought. He was still a bootlicker though. A comment about competing caviar brands made that clear.
~
“…but tautology is just the repetition of an idea in different words. That’s actually—Bucky? Hey, Bucky!”
Bucky jolted, then shifted around in his chair and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah. Sorry. You said something about people misusing the word?”
“Mm-hmm.” Steve was giving him a weird look. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Bucky lifted his chin and met Steve’s eyes. “Um…continue. I don’t wanna fail the quiz tomorrow.”
“Right. So some people, like my grandpa, use ‘tautology’ to just mean bad logic, but it actually means repetition. Which is cool, as I was saying, ‘cause that’s another literary device. Malapropism. Like, using a term incorrectly.”
“Rhetori-ception,” Bucky mused, chewing on the end of his pencil.
Steve laughed. “Yeah. I should put that in the mini essay. Might get an extra point.”
Mini essay? “Uh, remind me when that was due again?”
“Next Friday, don’t worry. We just have to write about a rhetorical device and where you see it used a lot in popular culture. It’s only like 350 words.”
“Oh. Okay.” Bucky pulled out his phone and put that in his reminders. “Would you believe me if I said I knew about it?”
Steve considered this. “…Sure.”
Bucky stifled a smile. “Cool. I’m well prepared. And, uh…speaking of essays. Someone said your last one was pretty good.”
A risky gamble. Steve’s brow furrowed, then he grinned. “Really? I thought it was terrible. Maybe I have a chance at a 7 out of 9 this time.”
Bucky snorted. “In Coulson’s class? Nice try. You could write a PhD-level dissertation and he’d still give you a 3 for no reason.”
“Ha, doesn’t look like you have too much faith in me.”
“All I’m saying is we can’t all be Fitzgerald.” Bucky smiled at Steve’s laugh, then added, “No, but seriously, I bet you’ll be fine.”
“I won’t believe that until you actually read it,” Steve said, waggling a finger at him. “I’ll send it to you today…I mean, if you’re okay with it.”
Score! “No, yeah, of course. Send it. I’d be happy to take a look.”
“Awesome.” Steve beamed. “Now tell me what a malapropism is.”
“Uh.” Shit. “When someone uses one term to mean something else?”
“Close! It’s actually…”
Bucky leaned on his hand and listened as Steve re-explained it. Maybe he’d committed multiple tautologies by Bucky’s hand, but that was fine. Coulson would probably forgive it.
~
Conversation with steverogerssss, Sept 13
bucky: i just read ur essay. 6/9
bucky: lol
Steve: Aw. At least it’s not a 3 B-)
bucky: maybe ur not fitzgerald. but ur close
bucky: like if he was a commie and also 16
Steve: Dang.
Steve: I don’t think you’re wrong. I just never thought an essay on local eating would call me out like that.
bucky: lol
bucky: locovores
bucky: you know what that reminds me of
Steve: Not you too.
Steve: Gamora started something that she shouldn’t have.
bucky: her power is too immense for u, a mere mortal, to comprehend
bucky: she did the lord’s work by educating us all on the intricacies of v*re
Steve: Even you censored it.
bucky: i don’t want my fbi agent seeing this shit
(Steve unsaved “she did the…”)
bucky: thx
Steve: You need to watch yourself.
bucky: is that a threat, esteban?
Steve: ????
bucky: code name
Steve: Thanks.
bucky: also
bucky: what was that last paragraph about dude
bucky: if u don’t mind me asking ofc
Steve: It’s kinda…
Steve: I don’t know. I guess I channeled some of my personal life into it.
Steve: Because my mom is really passionate about this kind of stuff, and all. She used to have this big garden full of vegetables she’d grow and give to the neighbors.
bucky: aw that’s sweet
bucky: what happened to the garden?
Steve: She doesn’t really have the energy to take care of it. I still weed it and keep the pests away and everything, but we don’t grow much anymore. The meds she’s on tire her out a lot…some days she can’t even get out of bed.
bucky: oh shit
bucky: dude is everything ok? that sounds really serious
Steve: I mean…I haven’t really told anyone this, but
Steve: She has cancer.
Steve: She’s doing a bit better now, but it’s not gone.
bucky: holy shit
bucky: i’m so sorry man that must be so tough
Steve: Thanks. Sorry I kind of unloaded on you there. It’s just good to talk to someone, I guess.
bucky: for sure talking always helps
bucky: i know i’m not the hugging type but im giving you the fattest hug tomorrow morning
Steve: Aw, thank you :’)
bucky: keep ur head up okay. i know how hard this sort of thing can be, but you can always talk to me
bucky: when i moved after my sister left i was having a really hard time with all that family shit im so thankful to have met nat at hms
bucky: so yeah talking helps
Steve: Thank you :-)
Steve: I didn’t know you had a sister.
bucky: yeah. her names rebeccah
bucky: when our parents died our grandparents couldnt take care of both of us, and shes the younger one so it made more sense
bucky: im so glad though our uncle is super shitty i wouldnt want her to live here
Steve: That sounds rough. Is everything ok on your end?
bucky: i mean
bucky: im still here i guess lol
Steve: Bucky…
bucky: gd im so sorry to just dump this all on you
bucky: especially after you told me all that about your mom
Steve: No!! It’s okay. You said it yourself, talking helps. I’m glad you trust me.
bucky: :’)
Steve: I’m also here if you need anything, okay? Don’t bottle it all up.
bucky: thanks stevio
bucky: i won’t make fun of u anymore
bucky: or not as often
Steve: Thanks…I think?
~
Bucky planned to make good on his promise to hug Steve the next morning, but he realized once he got to school that they didn’t even share any classes that day. Bucky had no morning class—he might as well intercept Steve in the foreign language building before heading over to his usual haunt in the library.
He didn’t have to wait long. Students trickled into the building as the clock ticked closer to nine. Finally Steve rounded the corner, tapping at his phone.
“Hey,” said Bucky, heart beating weirdly fast.
Steve glanced up—their eyes met, and Steve’s widened. “Bucky? What are you—”
He couldn’t finish his sentence. Bucky stepped forward and threw his arms around Steve, praying fervently that he wasn’t overstepping his bounds. For a moment Steve stood frozen, Bucky’s face heating up as embarrassment overtook his brief surge of bravery.
Then Bucky felt Steve’s arms wrapping around him in return, the latter’s forehead resting on Bucky’s shoulder. They swayed in place for a second. “Thank you,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s jacket.
When they finally broke apart, Bucky felt like he was going to crumble into pieces. He glanced up. Steve’s eyes were glistening, a tender smile on his face. “Buck…”
“I—I gotta go.” Bucky turned around and left. And that was it.
~
Bucky tried to nap in the library until lunch. Or, well, not nap, but he wallowed. He wasn’t sure what he was wallowing about, but talking to Steve the night before had been the first time he’d told someone that wasn’t Nat or Clint about his family. It was freeing, but he still felt as if he was going to get in trouble—although he didn’t know with whom.
When the bell rang for lunch he went back to his bench, wondering if Tony would be there again and what he’d get clowned for if he was.
Usually Bucky was the first one there on the days when he didn’t have a morning class. When he turned the corner, though, Tony was sitting on his bench again, this time with Rhodey. They were looking at some video on Tony’s phone and cackling like witches.
“Is this a joke? Am I a joke to you, Tony?” Bucky demanded. “Get off my bench!”
“Whoaaa, chill out, Barnes!” Tony held up his hands as Rhodey got up. “I didn’t know this was your bench.”
“Well, now you do.” Bucky glared daggers at him.
“Aren’t you a socialist? Isn’t this our bench?”
“We’re in America. This isn’t our anything. Get.” Bucky nudged Tony off the bench with his toe and lay down, closing his eyes. The sun was bright and hot today, warmth leaching into his skin. Ah. All was well again.
“Rhodey, can you believe this? He kicked me off our bench, bro. He kicked you off our bench.”
“It’s like a married couple getting kicked out of their house.”
“Right?”
Bucky cracked one eye open. Clint and Nat were approaching, whispering to each other and pointing at Bucky. “Stark, get out of here. Rhodey, you can stay.”
Rhodey burst out laughing as Tony spluttered a protest. “What! You were fine with me yesterday!”
“One, not both. You can alternate.”
“What’s going on here?” Nat piped up, taking her usual seat. “Do we have another infiltration attempt?”
“Yeah. Code 49,” said Bucky.
“Oh, okay. Stark, come back tomorrow. Rhodes, you stay.” She shooed Tony away like a fly.
“This is ridiculous! Clint, say you’re on my side, buddy.” Tony threw an arm around him. “Come on, my man.”
Clint raised one eyebrow. “We hadn’t even talked before yesterday. I’m pretty sure you fought me over a swing in first grade.”
“Water under the bridge, bro.” Tony punched him lightly in the chest. “I’m a changed man!”
Everyone exchanged glances wordlessly. Tony sighed.
“Well,” said Bucky, standing up and shouldering his bag. “Either you guys leave or I leave. This family is over.”
“Nooooooo!” Tony cried as Bucky strode away.
~
Halfway through lunch, Steve heard a backpack thudding to the ground in front of him. “Whoa!” said Sam. “Look who’s here.”
Steve glanced up from the latest episode of Game of Thrones, which he was trying to catch up on so he could discuss Dany’s treason with Sam.
“It’s Mr. Short, Dark, and Kinda Emo himself,” Sam quipped as Bucky came to a halt in front of them. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“Tony Stark,” Bucky replied through a mouthful of bagel.
Steve and Sam both made the exact same sympathetic noise at the exact same time. Whatever Tony had done, it was enough to drive Bucky away from his bench. That was no small feat.
“You mind if I sit?”
Steve shook his head and moved his bag off the table to make space.
“I can’t stand Tony. He broke my friends. I need to be around normal people.”
“Sorry, you're out of luck then. Sam was just googling pigeon color morphs for an Instagram edit.” Steve rubbed the back of his head.
“Hey!” Sam snapped. “That’s normal people activity.” He looked over at Bucky. “It’s not like I’m emo or anything.”
“Sorry I have good music taste,” said Bucky. “What do you listen to when you cook? Post Malone?”
“God, no,” scoffed Sam. “Ever heard of Imagine Dragons?”
Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I…respect that.”
Steve sarcastically made jazz hands next to his face. “Finally, peace in the courtyard.”
“Steve, you’re the only one who hasn’t shared your tastes in aural entertainment yet,” said Sam, elbowing him. “Gimme your phone. What’s on your Spotify?”
Steve rolled his eyes and handed over his phone. “It’s nothing you haven’t heard of, Bird Boy.” Maybe he should plug his ears.
“TAYLOR SWIFT?!” screeched Sam, sure enough. “Wait. How did I never know you were a Swiftie? ARIANA GRANDE?”
“What about Ariana Grande?” Nat’s voice chimed. Steve glanced up as Bucky whirled around. Clint, Tony, and Rhodey followed, much to Steve’s chagrin. The whole gang.
“I divorced you all,” Bucky told them, standing up and shouldering his backpack. “Bye.”
Steve turned as Bucky walked past him. “Hey, wait! Where are you gonna go?”
“…I’ll figure it out.”
“No, come back! You can sit with me. I’ll shield you,” Steve laughed.
Bucky turned, rolling his eyes as a begrudging smile broke through his composure. “Fine, Esteban. I’m counting on you.”
“Esteban! That’s a good one,” Tony chimed in.
“Silence, Antonio.” Rhodey pointed his spork at him. “You’re the reason we had to move here in the first place.”
“I get bullied no matter where I go,” Tony grumbled as everyone stifled laughter.