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Whoever came up with this stupid idea should be shot, Steve thought. Or at the very least, smacked in the head with his shield. Except, he didn’t really think he could hit Pepper in the head, no matter how much he dreaded the evening’s festivities. But really, a Halloween masquerade ball? Still, it was for charity, and all the proceeds from the tickets would be going to children’s hospitals across the country, with Stark Industries making a matching contribution, so Steve couldn’t bring himself to grumble too loudly.
Frankly, he felt a bit ridiculous, even though his costume for the night was a just black, long-tailed tuxedo, with a royal blue bowtie and cumberbund, and red flower in his lapel. The mask though, was blue and outlined in red with tiny, star shaped diamonds. It was worth more than he cared to even think about, and he fervently hoped he wouldn’t lose it tonight.
Before exiting his apartment, Steve gave himself the once over in the full length mirror in his closet, his critical eye picking up on every perceived imperfection. Even though he no longer looked like the skinny, unhealthy, weakling he had been before the serum, sometimes Steve couldn’t help but be self conscious. Sadly, he stared at his reflection, just like he had done so many times in the past before going on one of those disastrous double dates with Bucky. His best friend, who would always come up behind him, warm palms on Steve’s hunched shoulders, and tell him he looked great. He wished Bucky were here to reassure him now. But he wasn’t, having disappeared shortly after turning himself in and being pardoned for crimes he had never wanted to commit. Steve wondered if he’d ever see the love of his life again, or if he should just be content to know that Bucky was alive and free from Hydra’s clutches.
Unable to justify delaying any further, Steve left the sanctuary of his apartment and headed to the elevator. Jarvis was silent throughout the ride, his sensors no doubt reading Steve’s discomfort.
The charity ball was being held on one of the upper most levels of Avengers Tower, the entire floor having been decked out in low twinkling lights, and masked servers circling the room with ornate, silver trays piled high with hors d'oeuvres or champagne flutes. One entire table was dedicated fully to desserts, tiny little petit fours, delicate and intricately decorated in orange and black.
Steve spotted Natasha by the bar, her hair done up in a bun, a black feathery mask covering her eyes and nose, delicate wings attached to the back of her dress. The man standing next to her could only be Clint, in a deep purple tuxedo jacket with black lapels, and black pants. His mask was purple, with small black decorations on the side that looked like bird wings, and a black beak covering his nose. Making a beeline for his friends, Steve weaved through the crowd gathered there, who had each paid through the nose for the opportunity to rub shoulders with the Avengers, and see the inside of the Tower.
No sooner did he join them than Natasha was whisking him out onto the dance floor, much to Barton’s amusement. Steve tried to protest, but the redhead only laughed, a low, throaty sound that made Steve’s heart seize painfully within his chest. It reminded him of years long past, of other dances, another body pressed close to his, a different set of smiling red lips.
Natasha must have known what he was thinking about, however, because she squeezed his hands reassuringly before slipping one around her waist, and holding the other. “Relax, Steve.” Gently, she swayed side to side, in time with the music, something slow and mournful, played by a four piece band decked out in white tuxedo jackets.
Thankfully, Steve made it through the entire song without stepping too badly on his friend’s shoes. When it was over, Natasha led him back to the bar, where a few more of the Avengers had gathered. He smiled at them all sheepishly, and they welcomed him happily, falling into that easy camaraderie that can only come from having saved the world together multiple times.
Steve thought of his war buddies, The Howling Commandos, and it occurred to him that despite everything he’d been through, Steve could count himself as one of the luckiest men on the planet. He’d found not one, but two, families in his long lifetime. People he cared about not because he had to, not because they shared any blood ties, but because they had come into his life when he felt like he had nothing else, and made it better. And even though Bucky wasn’t with him, at least Steve now knew he was alive. The world was a brighter place just for having Bucky in it as far as Steve was concerned.
The next one to pull him out onto the dancefloor was, predictably, Pepper. Her strawberry blond hair cascaded loose around her shoulders, all the more vibrant against the backdrop of her shimmery white dress and matching pearl mask. Steve glanced back at Tony hesitantly, and the billionaire only waved him onward, with a better you than me gesture.
The band was good, and they played a wide range of music, from many of the classics to more contemporary hits that Steve recognized from driving around with Sam, and even a few of the Halloween staples mixed in for good measure. At some point or another, Steve found himself in a sort of strange clustered group with Sam, Clint, and Rhodey, the other three men moving energetically and expertly to an instrumental version of “Suit & Tie” while he stumbled to keep up with them. Before he knew it, he was laughing and actually enjoying himself, not even minding how he must have looked to the rest of the attendees.
Several hours and glasses of champagne later, when the band played Boccherini, they were all treated to the sight of Natasha and Clint waltzing, gliding around the room effortlessly, eyes gleaming beneath their masks. Natasha’s cheeks were flushed, and though she would say it was from the dancing, Steve thought perhaps it might have something to do with the way Clint held her in his arms, a safe refuge from the chaos their lives could devolve into at any given moment.
Towards the end of the night, in what Tony announced loudly would be the last hour of revelry, Steve sat at the team’s table, fingers idly plucking a loose thread from one of the black linen napkins, when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Surreptitiously, he chanced a quick look around, not wanting whoever was staring at him to realize he had noticed them.
At first, he didn’t see anyone out of place. On the pretense of watching Bruce try to teach Thor the “Thriller” dance, Steve turned completely around in his chair. His eyes scanned the room rapidly, seeking out any possible threats. His gaze passed over the lone man sitting at the furthest table from him the first time around. On his second sweep of the room, Steve locked eyes with the stranger, and his breath caught in his throat.
Steve placed his palms on the table in front of him to steady himself. The man wore a black tuxedo, and his mask resembled the one worn by the character in Phantom of the Opera. It covered his forehead, nose, and half of his face. Red, full, sensuous lips were visible, a pair of lips that Steve would know anywhere. He watched as that perfect mouth curved upwards at the corners, coming to rest in a sinful, taunting smile.
Unable to help himself, Steve shot out of his chair, and took his first shaky steps in the man’s direction. In horror, he looked on as the man rose from his seat and turned his back and strode away, a sleek, black silhouette that glided like a ghost through the crowd.
Just then, Steve was distracted by a loud peal of laughter to his left, and he turned instinctually, only to find a group of women gathered around Sam, while he turned one of them in his arms, dipping her backwards and causing the others to squeal loudly once more. By the time Steve dismissed the situation and focused his attention on the mystery guest once more, the man had disappeared.
Had he even been there, or had Steve’s lonely, reminiscing mind conjured him up? Steve couldn’t be sure; he only knew he was struck with a sense of loss so profound it felt like he had just watched Bucky fall from the train all over again. Dropping into the nearest empty chair, Steve buried his face in his hands. He didn’t care who was watching him or what they might be thinking of him.
The lively, upbeat song came to an end then, and the bandleader tapped at the microphone. “This next song is by special request. The gentleman didn’t give us his name, or say who it was going out to, only asked us to play this one for a little punk he knew. So, whoever you are, punk, this one’s your song.”
The first chords of “Moonlight Serenade” wound through the air and made a home in Steve’s ears, nestling there for the winter, and warming his cold heart and soul to their depths. The song was one that had been popular in the dancehalls and USO’s during the war. Bucky never danced that one, no matter how much the girls pleaded with him. That had been “their song,” and each time it had played, they spent it sitting next to each other, legs touching underneath the table, hands resting on top, close enough for fingertips to stretch out and entwine, but never quite daring in public.
They’d made up for it later, though, at night in Steve’s private quarters, or sometimes, when they couldn’t wait, pressed up against the wall in a dark alley, or a tree not far from basecamp, a mesh of lips and hands and hot breaths and rushing blood. It had always been that way between them, their love something they could only share in the dark in those times.
Jolted from his reverie by a heavy hand coming to rest on his shoulder, Steve lifted his head. From beneath the ornamental mask, his eyes glanced upwards, blue and fathomless as the sky and full of hope.
Standing above him, brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail, wintery eyes glittering like frozen lake waters, was Bucky. Steve was rendered speechless, pink lips falling open and uttering the softest of “Oh’s.” Before he could even be certain what was happening, a hand was offered to him, one made of cold metal, bright and shining and catching the lights from the chandeliers. As he took it, Steve was not at all surprised to find it hard and unyielding, unnecessary confirmation that the person who stood in front of him was the one he’d been searching for for so long.
With an ease and grace he would not have believed himself capable of, Steve stood from his chair, and allowed himself to be led to the floor once more. His eyes drank in every movement of Bucky’s body, the way his hips swayed slightly with each step, the careless toss of his head. Steve was a starving man in the desert, and Bucky the life saving paradise he stumbled upon just before his body gave out.
Once they reached the center of the dancefloor, Bucky turned and held out his arms. Steve slid into them, catching them and guiding them up to his neck, while he wrapped his own around Bucky’s trim waist. Bucky wound his arms tighter around Steve, forcing him closer, their bodies leaving no room for Jesus in between them. The two inches or so of height difference put Steve’s lips just at Bucky’s eye level. When Steve’s tongue darted out to wet his suddenly too dry lips, he watched as Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, and a thrill shot through Steve, knowing for sure now he wasn’t the only one who still felt this way.
“Buck-” he began, but was cut off quickly.
“Shhh. Don’t say anything. Just dance with me.” The Brooklyn drawl in that voice was so familiar, and Steve smiled and nodded, powerless to do anything but whatever Bucky asked of him. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull the mask off, and reveal the handsome face of his best friend, but he knew he couldn’t.
The music floated on in the background, and Steve shuffled his feet side to side, swaying to match Bucky’s movements. The other man’s lips lifted into a smirk, and he spoke.
“You’re a better dancer than I remember, pal.”
“Maybe I just found the right partner,” Steve quipped.
That startled an honest laugh out of Bucky, both of them remembering the awkward scene in the bar with Peggy. Back before Steve had gotten up the courage to tell her that even though he thought she was a class act, he would always be in love with Bucky.
“I’ve missed you, Buck,” Steve chanced.
“Me too, pal. Me too.”
The song was coming to its conclusion, and Steve desperately wished he could extend this moment forever. “So, it’s Halloween, Buck.”
“Yeah. And?” The smirk was back on Bucky’s face; Steve wanted to kiss it away.
He tried for a playful grin. “So, you gonna give me a trick or a treat this year?”
Bucky smiled at him teasingly. “Really, pal? That the best you could come up with after not seeing me in months?”
“Well, I-” But Steve never got to finish his sentence. The song ended with a flourish, and it was only then that Steve noticed his teammates moving towards them quickly, but with as little fuss as possible from several different directions.
It angered Steve that his friends didn’t trust Bucky. He had been cleared by Coulson after months in a facility, and intensive therapy sessions, and a full military tribunal. His hands tightened momentarily on Bucky’s waist. Any normal person would have flinched under the force, but some of the same super serum flowed through his veins too.
Steve let go of Bucky and rotated on the spot, sending them all what he hoped was his best stay back glare. In the confusion, though, he lost sight of Bucky. He knew before he’d even turned back around that his friend was gone, melting back into the aether like a wisp of smoke, disappearing and taking all of Steve’s hope with him.
He had no words for his teammates. Steve understood they were only trying to protect him and the rest of the innocent people at the gala, but their actions had clearly spooked Bucky so badly he’d felt the need to run. That was something he wasn’t ready to forgive them for. At least not tonight.
No longer in the mood to celebrate anything, Steve made his exit, and rode the lift down to his floor. In the elevator, Jarvis attempted to speak with him.
“Captain Rogers, if I may-”
“Not now, Jarvis” It sounded absurd, but he hated himself for being so rude to the AI. “Just, please. I don’t wanna talk about it.”
The long suffering sigh was audible in Jarvis’ voice. “Very well, sir.”
Reaching his room, the door slid open to admit him. Steve wasted no time in ripping the mask from his face, and yanking his bowtie off. He threw them across the room as far as he could and the mask collided with the wall.
Steve winced, passed his hand over his face, and moved to collect the discarded items. The mask was valuable after all, and his mother would be ashamed if she saw him treat something so expensive in such a careless manner.
Picking the mask and bowtie up off the floor, Steve crossed to his desk to deposit the items neatly in a stack and froze. There, resting on his desk, right next to his laptop, was the Phantom mask Bucky had been wearing upstairs.
“Hey, Stevie.”
Steve whirled around, dropping the things he held on the floor again. “Bucky… How did you get in here?”
Bucky was reclining on his bed, shoes off, bowtie and jacket missing, and his tuxedo shirt open, the long, pale column of his throat exposed, making Steve swallow convulsively. The other man leaned up and clicked on the bedside lamp, revealing his form fully. Long legs stretched out on the mattress, muscles visible beneath the black fabric, taunting Steve with their grace.
“It wasn’t too hard. Your butler let me in.” Nervously, Bucky licked his lips, his eyes turning wary. “But if you don’t want me here, I can just go.”
He stood and began to gather his things, draping the jacket over one arm. Steve didn’t move, his feet having apparently grown roots and rendering him immobile. He tried to speak, but his lungs felt like he didn’t have enough air in them. Funny that. He didn’t have asthma anymore, but he was still as out of breath around Bucky as he had been when they were growing up.
Just as Bucky brushed past him, Steve’s arm shot out, gripping his best friend’s metal arm tightly. “Wait, please. I want you to stay.”
Bucky’s shoulders sagged. He didn’t turn around to meet Steve’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure, Buck. I want you here. Forever would be great, but I’ll take whatever you can give me at this point.”
Finally, after what seemed like a thousand years, Bucky turned his body. His blue-grey eyes were shining, and the smile on his face was radiant. “That’s just what I wanted to hear, pal.”
They moved as one, falling into each other’s arms just like they had so many times in the past. Steve walked Bucky back to the bed, their lips pressed together as he learned the taste of that wicked mouth all over again.
And upstairs, the celebration carried on.