Chapter Text
Your beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green
Your smile is like a breath of spring
Your voice is soft like summer rain
And I cannot compete with you, Jolene
--"Jolene", Dolly Parton
One Month Later:
They’re camped out in the middle of nowhere, but Carter is supposed to rendezvous with them tomorrow, and Steve is vibrating halfway out of his skin with excitement and nerves. Bucky doesn’t mind; he’s had Steve all to himself for the past month, and he doesn’t begrudge Carter the next couple of nights. That doesn’t mean he wants to put up with Steve’s fidgeting, though.
“Steve, relax. Fussing ain’t gonna make her come any sooner.”
Steve sighs. “I know, I just... I’m nervous.”
Bucky raises himself on his elbows to get a good look at him. “Is this about sex?”
“Bucky.”
“Well?”
Steve slumps against Bucky’s side. “Maybe a little.”
“You two haven’t--?”
“No! I don’t even know if she wants to.”
Bucky sits up properly, so he can wrap an arm around Steve’s waist from behind. “Stevie. Honey. Doll. That woman wants to eat you alive. I really don’t think you need to worry.”
“I just—I don’t want to screw this up.”
Bucky kisses the side of his neck, feeling the little thrill that goes through him every time he does this—that this is allowed, that he can touch. “You’re not gonna screw it up, baby. If she was on board with this—with us, she’s not gonna kick you out just ‘cause you still don’t know a thing about women.”
Steve leans into him, rubbing his cheek against Bucky’s. “I don’t know how you manage to be so comforting and insulting at the same time.”
“Practice.” Bucky kisses him again, hands drifting lower on Steve’s abdomen. “You want me to distract you awhile?”
“Oh, well, if you insist...”
There’s a knock on the front pole of their tent, and the two spring apart, Steve rolling all the way across the tent before righting himself. “Uh—come in!”
The flap is pushed aside, and Peggy Carter ducks inside, carefully closing it behind her. “’Evening, boys.”
“Peggy!” Steve blurts, going red as a tomato. “I thought you weren’t getting here ‘til tomorrow.”
“I wasn’t,” she says. “But I—was in rather a hurry, so... I rushed things a bit.”
Steve is looking at her with that soppy, adoring expression that used to break Bucky’s heart. Now that he's seen it directed at himself, he finds it kind of amusing.
“Should I find someplace else to be for the next couple hours?” he asks.
Carter looks at him a consideringly. “No, Sergeant,” she says after a moment. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” She pulls off her boots and plops onto Bucky’s bedroll. “I’ve been thinking. Don’t give me that look, Steven, it’s nothing bad.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, doll,” Bucky drawls. “Steve’s gonna expire of nerves.”
She punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Just because Steve likes you doesn’t mean I have to put up with your lip, Barnes.”
He grins at her, trying to ignore the little voice in the back of his head telling him that his attraction to a mouthy, scrappy little blonde punk might easily translate into affection for this bossy, fierce, and frighteningly competent woman.
“Anyway, I thought it seems—inefficient—for Barnes and me to... take turns with you, as it were.”
Steve blushes again, because of course he does. His voice, though, is admirably steady. “What do you suggest?”
Carter’s smile is wicked. “Well, if we’re going to share, we might as well go all in, don’t you think?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns to Bucky. “What do you say, Barnes?”
Might as well be hanged for a chicken as an egg, Bucky’s mother used to say, although she probably never meant this. Between HYDRA and Steve’s transformation, though, this feels almost mundane. He shrugs, casual as he can. “I’m game if you are.”
“Steve?”
Steve grins, with a look in his eye that Bucky recognizes from every scrape they got into as kids. “Are you kidding me? Of course I am.”
“Good,” says Carter. “That’s good, then. Erm.”
They all stare at each other for a long, awkward minute. Eventually, it occurs to Bucky that none of them actually have a clue what they’re doing.
“You gotta come here, Stevie,” he says, and Steve obeys with obvious relief, slotting himself in between the other two.
From there, it’s easier; Steve kisses Carter, then Bucky kisses Steve, and they all sort of collapse into a heap on Bucky’s bedroll.
“Clothes. Off,” says Carter, in between Steve’s breathless kisses, and Bucky is all too happy to help her strip Steve’s shirt off. Steve, meanwhile, makes short work of Carter’s buttons, but is clearly at a loss when confronted by her brassiere.
“There’s hooks in the back,” Bucky tells him, and Carter actually laughs, raising herself on one elbow to watch them.
“Show him, Barnes,” she says, and so Bucky, flushing despite his best efforts, pulls her gently into his arms and shows Steve how to reach around her to unfasten the little row of hooks.
All three of them get a little distracted after that, and it’s awhile before Carter manages to redirect Steve’s hands to her belt; she’s wearing trousers, as she usually does when they’re in the field.
Bucky begins unbuttoning his own shirt, but is stopped by a cool hand on his wrist.
“Let me,” says Carter, and Bucky lets his hands fall away, startled and pleased by her attention. Her fingers are cold when she removes his shirt, but he doesn’t mind, and he refuses to be embarrassed at his thinness, or the scars littering his body. It’s part of the price of war, and if there’s one thing all three of them ought to understand, it’s that.
Sure enough, Carter doesn’t seem either surprised or daunted by what she sees when she’s stripped him bare; on the contrary, her eyes darken, and she licks her lips in a way that suggests a lioness eyeing a wounded gazelle.
“Steve,” she says, smirking, “I’m beginning to think you do have some taste, after all.”
Steve, who has managed to get both himself and Carter completely naked while she was busy with Bucky, grins and pulls Bucky into a kiss. “I know.”
They take their time, learning each other’s bodies. At first, Bucky is hesitant to initiate anything with Carter, preferring to keep Steve between them; but eventually, when Steve’s mouth is otherwise occupied, Bucky leans across him, and Carter meets him halfway.
The kiss is far sweeter than he expected, both of them gentle and nearly cautious, keeping their movements languid even as Carter pants and moans under Steve’s attentions. Everything is warm and soft and liquid, his hand buried in her hair and Steve’s fingers gripping his thigh; he’s suspended between the two of them, experiencing their pleasure as well as his own, and for once he feels like he fits comfortably inside his own skin. When he pulls back, he finds Steve watching him with dark eyes, and can’t help but bend down to him, biting back a moan as he tastes Carter on Steve’s tongue.
After that, he finds himself caressing and kissing whomever is closest, the three of them doing their best to help each other fall apart with hands and mouths and whispered encouragements, bodies moving in slick harmony in the dull lamplight.
When they are all sated and worn out, and Steve and Carter have fallen asleep beneath the scratchy wool blankets, Bucky leans back against the balled-up shirts he’s using as a pillow and lights a cigarette. He feels warm and comfortable, as though sex has worn away the sandpaper-feeling that usually fills him with anxious energy.
The tent is completely dark now, the lamp extinguished hours ago, but he can still see the shapes of his companions beside him: Steve, facing him with one arm curled around his head, the other flung over Carter’s waist, and Carter on her back, one white hand just barely touching Steve’s wrist. He inspects himself for any sign of jealousy, but finds none: in a few minutes, he’ll snuggle down beside them, knowing he’s wanted, that he’s loved, just as much as either of them.
“Barnes,” Carter whispers, and he turns his head to look at her, startled out of his reflections.
“Pass me that fag, would you?”
He blinks, smiles, and hands her the cigarette. She braces her free hand on his thigh to push herself up, then leans back against his chest, exhaling a cloud of smoke before she hands the cigarette back.
“I think I see it now,” she says thoughtfully.
“What?”
“What he sees in you.” She turns toward him a little more, and he automatically puts his arm around her. “I have to admit, my first impression was not… ideal.”
He groans, but softly, so as not to wake Steve. “Oh God, that night at the pub. I was such an asshole.”
“You really were,” she says, amused, “but with the benefit of hindsight, I can understand why.”
“Well, thanks for being so understanding. You’re—” His brain catches up with his mouth, and he stops abruptly, embarrassed.
“I’m what?”
He can feel himself blushing, and blesses the dark for hiding it. “You’re one hell of a woman, Carter, that’s all.”
Her laughter barely makes a sound, but he can feel the motion of it, with her tucked up so close against his chest. “Thank you, Barnes. Incidentally, you may call me Peggy, if you wish. I believe we’ve reached that point.”
“Okay, then, Peggy.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He feels her laugh again, and takes a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. “You might as well call me Bucky, then.”
“That’s such a ridiculous name for a grown man.”
“Well, we already got way too many Jameses around here,” he says with a shrug. “Anyway, I like it.”
She pats his cheek. “You’re sweet. I never would have guessed.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t. I expect your men already know, anyway.”
“Everyone to the moon and back knows Bucky’s a fuckin’ soft touch,” Steve mumbles unexpectedly. “Jus’ give ‘im a sob story and he’ll be… tryna wrap you up in blankets and… beatin’ up whoever hurt you.”
“That’s only when it’s you, idiot,” says Bucky fondly.
“Nuh uh. That girl that time, remember? You let her stay on our couch?”
“Go back to sleep, Steve.”
“I would, if you two’d stop talking.”
Bucky sighs, long suffering, and stubs out his cigarette. “Alright, alright, jeez. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your beauty’s sleep.”
“An’ don’t you forget it,” Steve slurs, already mostly asleep again.
He scooches closer, however, so he can wind his arm around both Peggy and Bucky. Peggy turns and tucks her head under Steve’s chin, and Bucky curves himself around her back, throwing his leg over them both.
None of them knows what tomorrow will bring, and Bucky’s fine with that. He doesn’t want to know what else this war has in store for them. Tonight, it’s enough to be wrapped up in these two extraordinary people, the man he loves and the woman who, against all odds, has chosen to throw in with them. Tonight, he is content.