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Only If For A Night	By : HarlotOhara Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Ultimate Avengers Views: 1112 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers; Marvel does. No money was made off of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Only If For A Night
- 2-Chapter Two
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Bucky wasn’t sure why it had to be Steve who was pressed on the other side of him when he awoke in the morning, sleeping as peacefully as any soldier ever did. He wondered why it had to be his strong muscular arm wrapped so tightly around Bucky’s waist like he was protecting him from any monsters that might come in the middle of the night. Of course, Bucky knew what the real answer was when he thought about it, the real answer that wasn’t that Steve loved him. Everyone knew what it was. Steve slept beside Bucky that night because Brian and Roger didn’t want to be apart. They always said it was because they were good friends or because they were countrymen, but it didn’t take a lot of effort to figure out what type of friends they were. They were just as fucked up in the head as Bucky was, but they didn’t care and he wondered if that made them worse. Somehow, with all their education and all their money, they weren’t as shamed as the one time bohemian curled beside him was.

Yet for as much as Steve cared about his own sickness, he gave a soft disappointed groan and pulled his partner back against his chest to hold when the boy tried to sit up. The captain wouldn’t have him, but still, he didn’t want him to leave either. Neither, it appeared, would the raging storm outside of the window and Bucky squirmed closer to Jim to be free of the guilt the enjoyment of Steve’s touch still gave him. He relaxed when the torch’s warm solid arm slid down around him and those beautiful silver eyes opened from their miming of sleep, taking in his nervous expression. “You don’t like storms?” Jim asked softly, because he could tell there was unease behind his eyes that had nothing to do with Captain America’s hand still laying low on the boy’s stomach. “I hate them.” Bucky admitted softly, as a clap of thunder sounded loudly enough to have Steve sitting straight up in the bed with a look of fear that mirrored Bucky’s.

For a moment Jim thought that perhaps it was something about humans he didn’t understand and hadn’t noticed before; that they simply were frightened of thunder and lightning. The thought vanished quickly because Steve was babbling something about their plans as he pulled on his pants. Bucky watched him, and there in that moment, was the artist behind the soldier, all blurry-eyed and beautiful in his imperfections. Captain America was only perfection, he was inherently flawless, but Steve Rogers was rubbing sleep from his eyes and lighting a cigarette before he even started to button his shirt. “Namor.” He was trying to explain, and white smoke escaped his mouth in delicate waves as he spoke, swirling around him. “Namor has to stop this, because this is going to ruin everything.” That was the thing about explosives; they couldn’t get wet.

However, that was also the thing about the prince of Atlantis; he couldn’t be displeased or he would willingly let all of their plans crumble to dust to prove he was not to be toyed with. Steve ran a hand through his ruffled blond hair to try to give it some sort of order or style, cursing softly as he did, and Bucky felt a knot in his stomach. It was so common, so unlike the image he upheld, to hear those coarse words come out of his mouth.

Bucky could almost imagine him with paint stained hands in that sad, seedy little apartment with framed poetry written by his mother hung on the paint-chipped walls. He was glad when Steve finally fixed his tie and left; he wasn’t sure he couldn’t handle those images right now. He wasn’t sure that he could see another layer to the man he already had to stop loving. It was hard to do that already, when everything that Steve did always made Bucky wanted to love him more; slowly it had become noticeable that all the stupid little things he did were just as endearing as his greatest moments of heroics. Steve Rogers was just as enchanting as Captain America.

Bucky would never understand how people had once compared Jim to the Devil or how they still whispered cruel comments behind his back, because it seemed like Jim read him better than any human ever could have. The tone the torch spoke in was calm, gentle and as understanding as ever, yet they both knew that he only chose to change the subject to give Bucky the relief of imagining that he wasn’t so easy to read. “So why do you hate rain so much? I know why I hate it, but you’re not liable to turn into a damp cat from it, are you?” Jim said softly, and he rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to settle the boy back against his chest, stroking his hair tenderly.

“I don’t know. I hate the way it feels to go out in damp wool; makes me smell like a hobo.” Bucky said lowly, darkly, and Jim made a sound of disbelief that was so very human. It was sarcastic, teasing and delightfully personal in the way that made Bucky feel comfortable with pulling the blankets around them to talk for a little bit longer. It was still so dark outside. It couldn’t even be 2 AM yet, and neither of them would be able to convince Namor to stop. They weren’t needed. “We used to have some bad storms in Shellbyville.” Bucky finally replied. “Tornados would come through, and that was all kind of distant. We never got struck…but we had to go down in the basement and sometimes when we came out…We could see all the destruction everywhere else. Houses would have been blown down into piles of brick and stone and people would have died under the rubble. Every time I hear the wind whistling like that…it makes me remember that.”

“I could see why that would scare you.” Jim told Bucky, and the next words he said were stronger, firmer. They were the words he would say to Tom over and over, no matter how many times they were rejected. “I’ll keep you safe.” He promised, and Bucky laughed at the words in the same way. They didn’t want to hear it, not as boys who were trying so hard to be men. “Gee, Jim, gonna catch the rain on fire?” He inquired, and the torch squeezed him tighter in his arms as if he wanted to hold in that joking tone that was given a brief reprieve from misery. “Quit laughing, I’m serious. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Jim promised, despite the fact that it hurt to know that might not be as possible as he would like. He would keep the deal to the best of his ability, down to the very last day, to the moment where it was no longer within his control to save the boy and all that laughter finally would stop.

Bucky looked down at his rough calloused hands when he heard the words; he appreciated the gesture, the protective nature – despite the fact that if anyone on the team needed protecting it wasn’t him – and he wished he knew what he should have said at that moment. He wanted to just accept it, snuggle close and stare up at Jim in a way that would leave such a soulful statement that it wouldn’t matter what he said, but he was Bucky Barnes not Betty Davis. He wanted to tell the man thank you, and he wanted to make it clear that he meant it but all he could do was mumble “I can take care of myself.” It felt stupid to say, like he was still a kid pouting at some perceived wrong, but he didn’t want any of the guys treating him like he was a dame.

“I know.” Jim agreed, and he knew that Tom would have said the very same thing despite the many occasions which he had been more than happy to be saved by his mentor. It was the thing about boys their age, he had found; they were not as taken as girls by that promise. They believed that they needed to be the one to protect, not the one to be protected, to prove that they were men already. Bucky was pouting then, in the way that Toro might have after being scolded and in such a way that it went against his desire to prove that he was mature. Jim reached forward to cup the boy’s face in his palm, looking down into his eyes with a slow smile as he examined his features. The gaze that returned was searching, somehow naïve in the motion despite all the darkness that he had seen. “Still, sometimes I’d like to be able to do that for you.” Jim insisted. “You’re a great boy, Bucky.”

“Sure, Papi.” Bucky teased, and the last word was so mocking and bitter out of his mouth, nowhere near as sweet as the way Tom said it. It had the same effect though, the same warm feeling of appreciation that just made Jim feel wanted. He mocked tapped Bucky’s cheek for the tone and gave him a kidding firm look that still made the sidekick shrink down into the bedding like a little boy. “You know, if you were my son, what do you think I’d do?” He inquired, and he hadn’t expected the response to be quite as telling of the boy’s mental state as it was.

“Gee, you’d probably be pretty ashamed.” The sniper replied, and he rolled over in the blankets so he wouldn’t have to face Jim any more. No one seemed to have awoken but Steve, so Jim didn’t feel so bad to slide down behind him and wrap his arm around Bucky’s waist like a lover. “I’d be proud of you for being so responsible.” He informed him softly, because that’s what he wanted…what he needed…to hear. “But I would still hold you close till the storm blew over completely. It would just be you and I together, and I would keep you warm under the blankets like this.” Jim guided and he let himself heat up enough to make the boy sigh. “I’d make you feel safe no matter what I had to do.” He promised, and Bucky’s hand slowly found his, entwining their fingers together as he listened.

The younger man’s breathing was slow, careful and controlled. He licked his lips before he replied, tone guarded. “Toro’s real lucky to have such a good pa.” Bucky informed him, but he guessed that Jim probably wouldn’t have been holding Tom this way. He wouldn’t have been holding the boy to him like he was his wife, or letting him feel the beginning of his interest pressing against his backside. Jim wasn’t human; he couldn’t have known better, even when he knew better than any of them. He didn’t know better, but Bucky didn’t care, he wanted that closeness. “I’d like it real well if you were my Pa…and…when you were holding me…sometimes we could…we could get to talking.”

Jim finished the words for him. “Then maybe,” He suggested. “I might do something for you that no one else is brave enough to do.” Something that after all of the horrible things that he had done, all the blood on his hands, and the nightmares that still woke him…Captain America still wouldn’t do. It was the balance on the thin line that made him still feel that he was good. It didn’t change Jim, though; he had no soul to lose from touching Bucky like a lover, even when he closed his eyes and pretended it was Tom instead.

“What’s that?” Bucky inquired, and he gave a small sigh of excitement when Jim’s hand slid down to rest on his thigh. The simple motion sent twinges like electricity through him, and the warm heavy hand gripped his leg. “Love you like you need.” The android replied, and he leaned down to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss. The boy was startled by how warm his breath was, that his lips were nearly hot against him and that his motions were gentle and careful. Jim, in the same spirit, was thrown by how cool the returning kiss was; cold like the rain which had frightened him and passionate enough to rival the cracking thunder of the clouds outside. It was nothing like kissing Toro would have been. The boy’s temperature would have risen to match his, and their flames would have danced against each other as they touched and the motion would have been naïve and searching. With Bucky it was icy and an unending reminder that this was not his sidekick, and that this boy knew far more than his years should have allowed.

Bucky’s teeth nipped at Jim’s lower lip, and he closed his beautiful eyes and let his tongue brush at the side of the man’s mouth. It was far more than Tom would have known; this boy had explored and experimented with girls more than his own sidekick and it helped to break the spell of that momentary self-doubt. He wasn’t so entirely naïve, not so entirely virginal and pure as Tom was. Bucky’s hand moving down to press against Jim’s arousal promised that, and the sure motion of his hand stroking him was the final proof enough that Bucky was no innocent. The kisses moved from Jim’s mouth to his neck then, and he sighed in pleasure at the feeling of the boy’s mouth against him like that, nipping and biting but unable to leave a mark against the synthetic skin.

Slowly then, Bucky moved and he was under the blankets, tearing Jim’s pants down his firm muscular thighs. His mouth was hot and tempting against Jim’s cock, and it took him a moment to manage to control the urge to thrust forward up into the boy’s mouth. The gentle tremble of Bucky’s lips around him was almost too much, and Jim closed his eyes for a moment to intensify the feeling of his cool mouth working against him eagerly. His eyes opened again quickly when he heard the creek of the door, and in the doorway stood a bleary eyed Tom. Wordlessly, the younger man came to get in bed beside Jim. “I had the worst dream.” He told him softly; Bucky sucked harder when he realized who it was. It was a touch of jealousy which drove him to continue, a twinge of cruelty he hadn’t realized he had inside of himself which wanted Jim to be in this position.

“What was it about?” Jim inquired, and Bucky could hear him swallowing audibly before he spoke. Jim was nervous that he might be caught, that it might have been wrong to continue, but he wasn’t nervous enough to make any motion for the other boy to stop what he was doing. Jealousy hit the sidekick hard; he missed the days when Steve still spoke to him with all of that tenderness and affection. The days before Steve had known that Bucky would have liked to be doing this to him. He swirled his tongue around Jim’s cock, tears burning his eyes in a mixture of shame and hatred. It was so unfair that he had been born with this sickness, and he couldn’t just be as happy as Tom was with being only a partner and only a friend.

Tom settled himself beside Jim, moving into the crook of his arm so he could rest his head against the man’s chest as he spoke. “I dreamt that we didn’t win…that all of this was for nothing.” The boy explained sadly, and Bucky felt a tear trickle down his cheek as he sucked harder against the man. He had the same dream so many times, he and Tom talked about it together, but there was the one thing that made it so different in Tom’s. “All of this was for nothing and Ann and I never got to be together.” There was the possibility for Tom that once this was all over, he would be able to be happy. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want Tom to be happy; he wanted him to be the happiest man alive…he just wished that he could be happy along with him.

Bucky moved down as far as he could, just barely choking around Jim’s arousal when the man shifted under him. He was moving a knee upwards to make the blankets’ movements seem less obvious, and the motion made it feel like he was fucking the sidekick’s mouth. “Tom, we’re not going to lose.” Jim promised, and he sounded just like Steve did whenever he gave some promise that seemed so impossible to keep. It was as if he was saying that everything would be alright, but he was the only one who believed it. How could he be so sincere, act so virtuous, walk with that swagger of pride…and still be intimate with a man as if it were nothing to be ashamed of?

“You really think so?” Tom inquired, and he snuggled closer to Jim to get comfortable there. It was still early in the night and he could stand to sleep for as long as they’d be able to before they left; Steve and Jim often forgot how much more sleep average humans needed than them. “I really think so. I wouldn’t tell you that otherwise.” Jim said and he was glad his son didn’t seem to hear any hitch to his breathing as their bodies touched. Bucky seemed to be working even harder underneath the blankets now, and he could feel the tears sliding down the boy’s face to land against his hipbones. He wanted to reach down and pull him up, but he couldn’t, not with Tom beside him. It was anything but pleasant to know that Bucky was upset and he couldn’t help him, that it was likely his fault now. It was even worse than knowing that watching Toro’s beautiful face now was making it hard to control his approaching orgasm.

“It’s okay.” Jim said and the words were intended for them both. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Papi.” Tom replied finally and Bucky choked a bit around Jim at hearing that. His throat tightened as the man’s body tensed under him in climax, urged on by his son’s gentle voice and youthful disheveled appearance. He relaxed slowly then; face never even changing enough to give himself away. The orgasm left the boy’s mouth free of any reminder of their union; apparently androids didn’t leave a mess but Bucky swallowed firmly around him as if they did anyhow. He moved carefully to lay his head against Jim’s thigh then, letting the last of his tears fall there.

After several moments, Tom relaxed into his father enough to sleep again fitfully. None of them slept peacefully these days, and Tom was worse for it all, because none of them seemed to remember he didn’t have the benefit of a soldier’s training to pull him through. Jim frowned at the sight, but didn’t dare to try to comfort him; it was sleep even if it wasn’t pleasant. His hand snaked under the blanket to rest against Bucky’s shoulder when he was sure his son wouldn’t awake and he pulled the boy upwards from under them. He could read his expression well enough to know not to speak. Instead he pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, guiding him to lay on the other side of him, an arm wrapped tightly around him. Things would be better. They had to be.
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Only If For A Night