Tattoo artist Bucky/Cap Steve meet-cute

galwednesday:

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

“Okay, listen,” Bucky says immediately. “I know the shield is a trademarked symbol, but I’m not selling the temporary tattoos, I’m giving them away, so I’m not making any revenue off of them and fair use would cover my adapted design.” Maybe. Bucky would really rather not put it to the test in a court of law. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to print out some designs inspired by Captain America’s shield, but with a heart instead of a star in the middle and rainbow rings instead of red and white, to give out as freebies along with the custom temporary tattoo designs he was selling. It was free advertising, and the number of couples walking hand-in-hand with the rainbow shield designs on their shoulders (with Bucky’s Etsy url along the bottom in discreet blue lettering) proved it was working.

“Oh, that’s–”

“And it would be really bad PR to sue over this,” Bucky says, a little desperately, visions of Stark’s merciless army of lawyers dancing in his head. “Trust me, this isn’t what you want to be known for.”

“That’s not what–”

“Also,” Bucky says, cutting Captain America off yet again, because if Captain America is about to yell at him for tarnishing his public image he won’t be able to say this part with anything approaching grace, and he needs to get it out or else his Ma will smack him the next time he sees her, “you saved my sister’s life during the Battle of New York so thankyouforyourservicepleasedon’tsue.”

Captain America stands by, a little crease in his forehead, while Bucky sucks in air. “You done?” he says finally.

Bucky coughs and thumps his chest. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Captain America squares his shoulders. “I tracked you down because I saw your shield design and I thought it was amazing and I wanted to buy one.”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I’m all out.”

Captain America’s face visibly falls. It’s the saddest and most flattering thing Bucky’s ever seen. “Would you be interested in printing more? I’m supposed to keep an eye out for merchandising opportunities, according to Ms. Potts.”

“I would love to print more, holy shit, hang on.” Bucky performs some highly unprofessional shimmying maneuvers to get a business card out of his wallet, wishing for the first time that day that he wasn’t wearing his tightest skinny jeans. When he looks up, Captain America’s eyes are pointedly averted, but he has a very pretty flush climbing up his neck. “Let me give you my card, call me any time and we can talk logistics.”

Captain America takes the card, reads it, and gives an adorable little nod like he’s just committed Bucky’s instagram URL to memory. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, Jesus, call me Bucky.”

Captain America smiles at him and offers a hand. “Then please call me Steve.”

“Good to meet you, Steve.” Their handshake lingers, neither of them pulling away, until someone blasts an airhorn a block over and they jerk apart.

“You too, Bucky.” The flush is darker now. Bucky wants to lick it. If the way Steve didn’t want to let go of him is any indication, he might actually get a chance to. Steve steps backwards, his eyes still on Bucky, and smiles. “Have a good Pride.”

“You, too,” Bucky says, a lot more insinuatingly than he would have a few minutes ago, and Steve’s smile widens before he turns away.