Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bucky leans into the doorway, pokes his head in through the slot and pretends not to notice Rhodey spilling a bag of tortilla chips directly into his mouth in the corner. Natasha and Clint poke their heads in directly above them, and Bucky can only imagine how much they look like a scene in a cliché spy movie.

“You guys look straight out of a fuckin’ spy movie. What the hell are you doing?” Tony asks incredulously, gesturing a lazy hand in representation of the party room - he called it; they look ridiculous. Bucky starts to slide open the door, but gets interrupted by Natasha shoving him in the middle of his back and stumbles in instead.

He finds he doesn’t really care enough to be embarrassed.

“Bro.” Bucky glances over to see Clint already scoping out the room, and it’s clear his exclamation stems from the view out of the full-length windows. “I can see the fucking Empire State Building. I don’t know why it’s purple, but I definitely don’t mind.” Bucky stares out onto the skyline and sees that Clint’s right - Tony’s building is on 93rd and 2nd, but the 46th floor party room means that they can see all the way to midtown. The Chrysler building shines as if a million tiny diamonds were placed in each window.

“Yup.” Tony smirks, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “I spare no expense.”

“You made each of us pay ten bucks,” Natasha interjects, eyebrow creeping up to her hairline.

“Yeah, well. Profit.” Tony smiles, mouth stretching like plastic before it settles into something more familiar. His eyes crinkle.

._.

“Hey! How are you?” He can barely hear Steve's slurred words over the pounding music in his ears, but a lifetime of reading lips helps him fill in the blanks.

“I'm fine, Steve. You? How're you liking the party so far? What about pronouns?”

Steve burps. "It's awesome! Sucks that we can't have any 'substances'," they complain, dragging out the last word like a curse, "but all in all it's been pretty lit." 

They lean forward to grab the Diet Coke sitting on the table and fill a red cup with it, sipping just a bit and smiling to themself at the taste. “Oh - he/him is fine, thanks love.” He giggles a bit.

Bucky smiles with crinkly eyes. "Okay, cool. Are you high?"

The short blond gasps with obviously faked betrayal, slaps a wild hand to a tiny chest and frowns at himself when the action triggers a cough. "Who, me? Nooo." He slings an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, and Bucky can’t help but smile.

"Right. Sure." Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes. "I'll catch you later, alright?”

Steve doesn't bother with a verbal reply, choosing instead to flash a sloppy salute, smile brightly and stumble away.

“You’re so gay.”

“Fuck off,” he snorts, still watching Steve as he walks into Nat. He immediately slings a slender arm around her shoulder, babbling away at the teenagers in front of him and giggling at something unknown.

“Don’t hate me because I tell the truth, love.” Peggy exaggerates her accent with the last word, and Bucky smiles softly despite himself.

He turns around in his seat to face the girl, taking her in with a sweep of his eyes. She’s dressed in a pair of black skinny  jeans and a soft beige sweater, light and soft makeup and hair tucked into a loose bun.

“You look lovely, by the way.”

“Really? Thanks - I was worried a bit about being too cold, but this is working pretty well.”

Bucky smirks into his cup. “Hey, do you think it still counts as gay if he’s genderfluid?”

._.

"Is that a weed? I'm calling the police!" Bruce softly mimics the beeps of a microwave, a goofy smile lingering on his face. He shivers with an incoming gust of wind but doesn’t seem to notice.

Darcy rolls her eyes so viciously Bucky can almost imagine them rolling off, dropping onto the table in front of them and staring at Bruce judgmentally. It doesn’t actually happen, and Bucky finds himself mildly disappointed. "It's a juul, you dumbass."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’m not a fuckin’ idiot. It's called a circle for a reason, dammit, Darcy stop hogging it." Bruce holds his hand out insistently and Darcy takes a deep inhale, holding the smoke in her chest while she passes the juul to him. He imagines he can see the Empire State Building reflected in Bruce’s slow smile.

Bucky shifts in his cross-legged position, watching as Bruce breathes in the smoke slowly. He coughs as he lets it out and stares at Darcy with narrowed eyes while smoke wafts lazily out of his mouth. "Jesus fuck, Darcy, I feel like I just swallowed a pack of fucking Altoids, what the hell?"

"Well? That's what happens when you put your juul in a mint tin. I dunno what to tell you, man."

Bucky laughs quietly and holds a hand out, palm facing the sky, looking to Bruce for the vape. He inhales, quickly and without any regrets. Smoke coughs out with a breathless laugh.

Jesus, that's minty.

._.

“Hey, can I get the thing of chips?” Bruce nods wordlessly and passes the container of chips to Bucky, who grabs a handful and walks away. He grabs one from his palm and munches on it, absentmindedly swinging his hips to the beat of the music.

Someone comes up behind him and snatches a chip from his hand, settling lanky arms around his waist and resting a sharp chin on his hair.

Peter.

Bucky smiles reflexively, shoving the rest of the chips into his mouth and turning in place, sliding his hands over the kid’s shoulders. “Hey, Pete. How ‘ya doin’?” Peter smiles down at Bucky, and he clasps his hands tightly around Bucky’s back, silently persuading him to move with shuffling feet until they’re slow dancing to a rap song.

“I’m good! Kinda bummed that Ned couldn’t come,” Peter’s mouth twisting into a wistful grin, “y’know, because of that thing with his mom? But MJ’s here, so everything’s chill at the moment-o.” He stretches out the ‘o’ in the last word, and Bucky can’t help but snort at his destruction of the English language.

Bucky takes the chance to glance around the room. “Oh, awesome. Where’s MJ? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Peter hums thoughtfully.

“Huh. Now that you mention it, I haven’t either… oh, found her.” He giggles suddenly. “I’ll turn you around.” Peter does as promised, and Bucky almost immediately breaks out into laughter. MJ sits, deeply asleep, on Tony’s lap, who’s chatting with a half-asleep Bruce.

“Glad to know she’s having fun, I guess.”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, definitely. Oh - can you do me a favor?” Bucky leans back to look at Peter, who seems the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” The other teen bites his lip momentarily.

“Sorry, it’s just. I have this really bad itch? It’s right above the bottom of my binder, and I’ve been trying for half an hour to scratch it but I can’t fucking get it, so. Yeah.” He trails off awkwardly and Bucky laughs hard, snaking a hand into the back of Peter’s button-down shirt to scratch at the place he had described.

Peter slumps over almost immediately. “You’re a fucking godsend- holy shit, I love you.”

He snorts. “Yeah, I know. Yo, Tony!” Tony jumps the tiniest bit, and leans his head back so that he can see the person who called his name.

“What’s up, dude?”

Bucky takes his arm out of Peter’s shirt (and why the hell hadn’t he done that sooner? jesus) and fishes his phone out of his pocket. “You got any outlets I can use?” he asks, flashing the device at Tony. He points to the corner and Bucky flashes a salute at him. He smiles brightly at Peter, who, still laughing softly, breaks away to get himself a drink.

He heads to the back room, grabs a charger from his bag and plugs the phone into the outlet in the corner, smiling with satisfaction when it lights up.

Now to hope I don’t forget it.

._.

"Sharon, you have the vodka right?" Sharon doesn't jump despite the sudden whisper in her ear, and Bucky can't help but admire her for it.

"Yeah. I had blueberry, but someone -" she glances at Peggy, who's grinding up against an East Asian guy with bright blue hair - "drank all of it, so I only have straight. You want?"

"If you don't mind."

"For you? Of course. You know where it is?"

He smiles. "The silver bottle in your bag, right?"

She tips finger guns toward him, pianist's fingers lined with soft pink nail polish.

“Careful, though - I had to put it in the freezer back at my place, so it’s probably going to taste off for a bit.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Thanks.”

Bucky heads to the back room, finds Sharon's bag - small, black, and with an unreasonable amount of zippers - and pulls out the grey bottle, sniffing cautiously once he gets it open.

It smells like fucking rubbing alcohol.

He shrugs and takes a swig, feeling a shudder run down his spine at the burn that rushes through his throat.

._.

"Waitwaitwait - let me get this straight -"

Bucky snorts. "Ha, straight."

Maria lifts a perfectly plucked eyebrow. He wonders where she got them done - there's no way she did them herself. "Wow, you're so funny. Anyway - so you're saying he likes me, but he just got into a relationship and he doesn't wanna risk it?"

He quirks a rueful grin. "Yeah, some white dude named Riley? He's not here, though."

"Fuck," she sighs, and Bucky takes a sip of his Coke. "Well, his bitch doesn't have to know!"

Bucky almost immediately chokes on his drink, laughing even as he struggles to swallow it. As he manages to get the soda down his throat, Steve drops into the chair next to him with a groan and Bucky jumps.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, placing a cautious hand on the blond's back.

Steve groans. "I don' feel good."

"Okay..." Bucky mutters, eyes narrowing. "Hey Maria, can you get me a bottle of water from the fridge?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She hops off her chair, walking around the bar to enter the tiny kitchen. Steve lifts his head to watch her walk away, and Bucky stops short for a second. Steve’s eyes are lined with a thin layer of eyeliner, and his eyelids shine with gold that somehow reflects against the soft lighting in the room. Bucky can distantly see the layer of blush someone must have dusted onto high cheekbones, the lipstick smeared onto frowning lips. The rosy tint matches, somehow, with the maroon painted onto his fingertips.

“Who did your makeup?” he asks, and lays a hand carefully in his hair.

Steve pushes into the touch, nuzzling softly into the calloused palm carding through his hair. “Mmm - Bruce, once I asked ‘im.”

“It looks really good.”

Steve mumbles something that might be “Thanks” right as Maria comes back with the bottle of water, handing it to Bucky with the cap already twisted off.

He signs Thank you - three fingers tipped forward from his chin - at her, figuring it’d be best to only talk to Steve for the moment.

“Hey, love, can you drink this for me?” Steve nods shallowly, takes the water bottle in shaky hands and gulps until the bottle is empty and crushed in his hands. Maria leaves without Bucky having to ask her, returning with two more bottles and nodding in response to his thankful smile.

Bucky shoves the first one in between his knees and cracks it open, passing it to Steve. “I’m gonna go grab some food, ‘kay? Wait here for me.” He nods shakily and Bucky circles around him to the food table, grabs a plate and loads it with lukewarm pasta and a fork.

When he comes back, Steve is finishing off the first water bottle. He sets the food down in front of the blond and places an arm around his shoulders. “Eat, alright?” He nods and picks up the fork, curling his body into a comma to fit into Bucky’s torso. Bucky opens the second one, taking a sip before tipping it slowly into Steve’s waiting mouth. It’s almost empty by the time Steve is done, so Bucky finishes off what’s left of it and drops it in the garbage.

“You think you’ll be alright to take care of him?” Bucky shifts his body to see Maria better and he takes in her concern, the way her eyebrows (seriously, he has to find out who does them for her) twist and she sucks the fat of her cheeks into her mouth. He smiles gently at her.

“Nah. I only had a few puffs off’a Darcy, so I’m good, promise,” he responds, then turns his attention back to Steve, whose eyes are shut tightly. “Steve, love, do you want to go sit on the floor?” He nods slightly and stands up, grabbing onto Bucky’s shirt tightly. Bucky takes one pale hand in his, covers it tightly. They walk over to an empty space of floor right next to the door, Bucky supporting Steve, and sit on the floor.

He maneuvers them so that Steve ends up sitting in between his legs, back pressed against chest and Steve’s head leaning on his shoulder. Again, Steve curls up into Bucky’s body and he responds automatically, shifting to accommodate him and running a soothing hand across his back. The metal plates in his arm realign themselves to hold the additional weight of Steve’s back. He presses a soft kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

Bucky lets himself scan the room while Steve shakes against him. Darcy and Jane are giggling on top of each other, Maria’s toasting with Sam about something, MJ’s still asleep on Tony’s lap - with Peter sitting next to them and smiling - and Bruce across from them, snoring softly with his head pillowed on Thor’s shoulder. Peggy and Sharon are blowing smoke into the wind out on the balcony, Rhodey next to them and Pepper on his lap. A collection of people he doesn’t know are dancing to a random pop song - something about the capital of Cuba?

After a couple of minutes of oddly calm silence, Sam walks by with a cup in his hand. He stops, and turns to the two with a curious tilt of his head. “They okay?”

Bucky smiles. “He’s fine, yeah. Could you do me a favor, though?” Sam nods with a kind smile and lidded eyes. He wonders if Sam managed to coerce Darcy into a hit. “Thanks - would you mind grabbing me a couple of waters from the fridge and a sandwich? The kind with the soft bread. Oh - and you don’t have to, if you have too much to carry or something, it’s not really important - but a cup of Diet Coke would be awesome? Yeah.”

Sam laughs quietly. “Yeah, no problem. I’m going to leave my cup here, though.” He bends down and places his drink to the left of Bucky’s outstretched leg, outside of the range of Steve’s body. As Sam walks away, Steve pushes his head softly into Bucky’s cheek and he leans his head on Steve’s in response, taking off the fake glasses Bucky had put on purely for the purpose of looking like even more of a hipster.

Sam comes back and sits heavily next to Bucky with a grunt, unloading with everything he brought. Along with two sandwiches, half a plate of pasta, and Bucky’s drink, he managed to fit three water bottles and a small bag of chips in the pockets of his sweater.

God bless men’s clothing.

Bucky takes one of the sandwiches and passes it carefully to the blond curled in his lap (“C’mon, love, just one bite, please,”), who takes it and nibbles on a corner. Sam passes him the Coke and he takes a large swig, sighing in relief at the cold feeling rushing down his chest.

He feels a sudden tap on his chest and looks down.

“Ma’s pickin’ me up at ten,” he mutters. “I need t’ be okay by nine thirty.” Bucky narrows his eyes.

As if.

Bucky snorts. “Okay, no problem,” he assures Steve, who immediately turns back into his chest. Sam raises an incredulous eyebrow at Steve’s slurred declaration, and Bucky returns the unspoken question with a shrug. What can you do?

._.

Bucky checks the time on his phone (“Hey, Nat, can you grab me my phone from the corner?” “That’s a lot of work.” “Yes, I know, that’s why I’m not doing it.” “Touché.”). 8:57 - so he’s got maybe fifteen minutes before he has to start getting Steve up? Good enough.

Suddenly, the teenager in question sits up, back ramrod straight and a pale shaky hand pressed to his mouth, and Bucky immediately understands what’s about to happen.

“Go, go, go, go -” and it’s too late; liquid-like vomit spills from Steve’s mouth and onto the floor. Bucky winces as parts land on his shins - oh well, these jeans were an (admittedly nice) present from his homophobic grandmother, he doesn’t need them - and boots, and leaps to his feet. Steve is one step ahead of him, stumbling on shaky feet and running into the bathroom.

“Woah - holy shit, what happened?” he hears at least five separate people ask, and resists the urge to flip them off. It’s pretty obvious what just happened, after all.

Bucky stands up calmly, pockets his phone, and snags both a water bottle and a napkin from the bar in front of the kitchen.

He walks to the back room where a group of people are huddled around the girls bathroom - the one closest to the entrance, which is probably why Steve went into that one - all talking over each other to ask if Steve’s okay, and does he need anything, and what should they do to help, and how does he -

Whatever.

Bucky shoves his way through the crowd, friends and classmates parting easily once they see the look on his face.

Bucky knocks on the door gently; once, twice, three times. “Hey, it’s me. Can I come in?”

Steve makes a noise that could be a yes (maybe it’s a no, but damn it if he doesn’t care), and Bucky opens the door.

The first thing he notices is Steve, standing in front of the sink with his knuckles clenched so tightly they’re white. Bucky’s eyes scan the room, landing on the toilet - vomit filled - the floor - also vomit filled - and the sink - he’s starting to sense a pattern here, and it doesn’t feel like a good one.

Steve looks up when Bucky enters the cramped room, wiping a hand across his mouth and wiping his hand on his sweater. “Hey.”

“... hey. How are you feeling?” Steve shrugs - his legs are shaking, and he looks about two seconds away from bursting into tears.

“Surprisingly okay, actually.” Bucky just hums in response.

He pulls his shirt off and places it on the corner of the sink, which (not so coincidentally) is almost the only dry spot on the table. Left in just his undershirt, he walks the few steps over to Steve, thanking the God he doesn’t believe in that he didn’t take off his shoes, as was his instinct when he first got to the party. 

Steve stands still as Bucky carefully lifts his sweater over his arms, whispering “Arms up, love,” to him as it gets pulled up and off. He stands stock still, shivering with thin arms wrapped around himself. Bucky grabs a paper towel from the automatic dispenser (seriously, how fucking fancy is this place? This is getting kind of ridiculous) and wets it lightly with warm water, softly wiping Steve’s face - and yes, maybe he wipes a bit behind his ears, but he already knows that he’s a fucking sap so that detail is entirely unimportant, thank you.

Bucky grabs his shirt from the corner and passes it to Steve, gesturing for him to put it on. The shirt dwarfs him - no surprise, considering it’s his dad’s, and his dad is one of the biggest guys he knows- and Bucky rolls up the sleeves so that his fingers can be seen. He smooths his hands down Steve’s arms once he’s done, smiling softly.

“Can you -” Steve starts.

Bucky looks back from where he’s hanging the sweater up on a hook. “Yeah?” he asks quietly, letting his hands drop.

“C-could you ask Tony if I could have, like, a shower, maybe? I just -” He gestures to his body.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bucky walks out of the room, shutting the door carefully. He walks out to the main room, hoping to find Tony, but his face is indistinguishable from all of the others dancing.

“Yo, Tony!” Bucky yells into the crowd. A head pops up among the swaying people, and the teenager weaves his way through to get to Bucky.

“Yeah? How’s Steve doing?”

“He’s…” he trails off, and waves his hand back and forth. “He could be better, I guess. Listen, do you think you could convince your dad or whoever to let him shower, and maybe a change of clothes?” Tony bites his lower lip, and his eyes dart around the room nervously, finally landing on the balding man leaning against the kitchen wall.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll ask Jarvis, okay? No promises, though. Sorry,” he says, and hurries towards the butler with an apologetic shrug.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, barely noticing the motion in his anxious state of mind. He goes through the list of possibilities - he’s already asked Tony, doesn’t Peter live like three blocks away? He supposes that’s a last resort, if anything.

He glances over at Tony, who’s currently in the midst of a hushed conversation with Jarvis. Bucky can barely hear what they’re saying, but the sympathetic way Jarvis calls Tony “young sir” tells him it can’t be anything good.

A few seconds later, Tony turns back to him and shakes his head slightly. Bucky sucks in his cheeks, but mouths It’s fine at Tony and returns to Steve, rubbing a hand across his face.

“So, uh. Howard’s a dick so you can’t shower here, but I’m going to talk to Peter, okay? He’s a couple blocks away, I’ll ask him.” Steve looks up from where he’s hunched over the sink, splashing his face, and nods.

He walks up to the living room and pokes Peter, who tips his chair backwards to look at Bucky with what he assumes is supposed to be an unimpressed expression, but just looks mildly distressed. “Yeah?”

“Can Steve come over to your place for a shower?”

Peter looks incredibly excited. “Yeah, of course!” he exclaims, then falters. “Well, maybe I should ask Aunt May first. But I’m sure she’ll say yes! I’ll let you know.” He pulls out his phone, presumably to send a text to his aunt, and Bucky starts to turn away -

“Hey, Peter?” He looks up with raised eyebrows. “Did you bring a jacket with you?”

“Uh, yeah - it’s just a varsity jacket, but yeah. Why, do you - oh.” He looks down at Bucky’s chest and rolls his eyes at his absentmindedness. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling gratefully. Bucky follows Peter into the back room, and he puts on the varsity jacket that Peter passes him, not bothering to button it up.

Peter’s phone buzzes, and they both freeze, one of the plates of Bucky’s arm getting caught on a loose thread.

“She said yes!” Peter shouts excitedly, while Bucky groans exaggeratedly at the minor inconvenience. “Oh shit, do you want help with that?” Bucky waves him off with his free arm, pulling at the sleeve until the thread detaches and he can pull his arm through again.

Bucky pops his head into the bathroom. “Hey love, you ready to go? Peter’s aunt said it’s no problem.”

The boy in question wraps his arms around his torso and nods. “Can you - can you grab m-my bookbag for me?”

He nods, mouth stretched into a wide smile to hide his concern, and grabs Steve's bookbag, along with his own jacket. Bucky passes the jacket to Steve and watches as it swallows his body whole, Steve’s fingers poking out of the navy blue sleeves.

Bucky grabs Steve’s sweater from the hook it’s hanging on inside the bathroom and rolls it up into a ball, trying to make sure none of the leftover vomit can touch him. Bucky slings the bookbag over his shoulder and walks out, glancing back to make sure that Steve knows to follow him.

“Yo, Tony - I’m heading out, my shit’s in the back room. Watch over it for me, okay?” Tony nods in response, and Bucky smiles back. He nudges Peter, who’s standing right next to Tony, and he pivots rapidly, nods at Bucky and Steve, and holds the door open for the both of them. They walk to the elevator, get in, go down, get out.

It’s all very monotonous.

The walk to Peter’s apartment is, too - his aunt’s place is, apparently, only “like, three or so?” blocks away, and he doesn’t bother making conversation with the two shivering boys walking next to him. Steve tucks his arm into the crook of Bucky’s elbow.

At one point, Steve nudges him slightly. He holds out his phone, already open to his messages with his mom, and folds it carefully into Bucky’s bare hand. He grasps it with both hands and sends a text to Steve’s mom (Hey, Sarah - it’s Bucky. Steve got really sick during a party; is it okay if you pick him up at my friend’s house instead?), shoving it in his pocket afterwards.

Eventually, they reach Peter’s building - he unlocks the door with a bronze key, and they climb up four flights of stairs before reaching 4B. They make it up the stairs, only to find the door already unlocked. Bucky can hear the distant sounds of water running from where he assumes the bathroom is.

Bucky loves Peter’s aunt.

He knocks on the door before entering, and Aunt May almost immediately swings her head out from the kitchen, balancing on one foot with her upper body tilted sideways. “Hey, kids!” she says brightly, making sure to keep her voice low. “Shower’s that way -” she points in the direction of the water, and Bucky totally called it, “- and there’s body wash, shampoo, conditioner, the works. The purple loofah is yours and there’s a blue towel on the toilet for you, okay?”

Steve smiles weakly and sits down on the small seat next to the door, leaning down to untie his sneakers. He stops halfway, chest resting against his shins, and rests his head on a knee in defeat. Bucky sighs lightly and sits down in front of him, unties the shoelaces of his left sneaker for him and taps his shin gently.

“Lift, please?” Steve does as requested and Bucky pulls the shoe off of him, grasping him by the ankle to help the process along. He takes off Steve’s sock, too, and shoves it into the shoe. Bucky repeats the action with his right foot and lifts himself up, grasping Steve’s hands in order to help him up too.

He cups Steve’s cheek with a calloused hand. “Are you going to be okay in there?” he asks with a wrinkle in his eyebrows. “You know I don’t mind going in with you.” He really doesn’t - to be honest, he’s lost count of how many times he’s seen Steve naked for one reason or another.

Steve shakes his head, though, and walks on unsteady feet towards the bathroom. Once Bucky sees him close the door behind him, he drops into a crouch, slips off his shoes quick as lightning, and springs back up while sliding Peter’s jacket off.

“Hey, Pete, do you think Steve can borrow some of your clothes?”

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, sure, as long as he gives it back at some point.” He leads Bucky into his bedroom, and together they pull out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized sweater. Bucky takes them with a nod of thanks and heads to the bathroom.

Bucky knocks on the door softly. “It’s just me, love. Can I come in?” Steve hums in reply and Bucky takes it as a yes, opening the door slowly.

“I’m dropping your clothes on the toilet seat, okay? They’re right here.” He grabs his discarded shirt and slips it on.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, and Bucky closes the door softly behind him.

._.

“Left foot, love.” Steve props his left foot on Bucky’s knee, wiggling his toes, and Bucky smiles while he shuffles the bright pink sock onto his foot. He shoves Steve’s shoe back onto his foot, ties up the laces, and repeats with Steve’s other foot. He taps Steve’s knee once he’s done and stands up, stretching with a wince when he hears his back crack (ha, he rhymed).

“Okay, your mom texted me - she’s almost here. Ready to go?” Steve nods and stands up with a sigh. Bucky grabs his bookbag, the plastic bag filled with vomit-y clothes, and his jacket, and Peter holds out the jacket Steve had dug out of his bag for him to slip into.

“Thanks, Aunt May!” Bucky yells, and gets a chirpy “No problem!” in response. They walk down the flights of stairs and Sarah’s leaning against the awning outside, scrolling through something on her phone. She looks up when they step outside, and her eyes crinkle when she sees Bucky and Steve, though her smile outshines it all when her eyes land on Peter.

“Peter! My god, I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you? You’ve gotten so tall, I can’t believe it, but lord you need to eat more - who’s been feeding you?” she gushed, holding her arms out wide. He grins in response.

“Hey Aunt Sarah! I’m doin’ great, thanks - May says hi, by the way.”

“Oh lovely - I’ll have to go up at some point, it’s been far too long.” She turns to Steve and takes him in, smile twisting into a sympathetic tight-lipped look at the sight of him.

“Come on, let’s get you home, alright?” Steve nods and, after hugging both Peter and Bucky and whispering a “Thank you” into their ears, walks off with her, arm around her waist.

Peter looks at Bucky carefully. “Race you back?” he asks, referring to Tony’s place, and Bucky nods with a huge grin.

“Hell yeah.”