Argyle Socks, Chamomile Tea, and 3 AM Cookies

Chapter 1 -

Bucky Barnes was feeling good tonight. He'd managed to knock off on time and even had time for a few drinks before he got tired of the company and headed home.

He wandered down the hall to his apartment feeling happily hazy. It was still early. Maybe he'd make cookies. He giggled a little at the thought and somehow got the key into the lock in one try. He could feel the caffeine from two Red Bulls buzzing in his veins and making him jittery. He needed to burn it off and what was better for burning off caffeine and alcohol than dancing? He unlocked his phone while still standing in the doorway and opened his radio app. He wrinkled his nose as 'Call Me Maybe' started playing, but his head was already bopping along. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd begun to mumble along to the verse, which he didn't know, but he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna own the chorus.

"Hey! I just met you! And this is CRAZY! But here's my number! So CALL ME MAYBE!"

***

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kiddin' me," Steve grumbled. He reached for his phone. Three AM. It was three freaking AM. It was also the third night in a row. It was one thing on Friday night, when it was '867-5309' and he didn't have to get up early. It was almost cute on Saturday, when it was 'Call Me' by Blondie and, again, he was able to sleep in on Sunday. But tonight, 'Call Me Maybe' was the last straw.

Steve got out of bed and pulled on his warmest robe. It was colder than cold in the hallway and he didn't really care if his star spangled robe garnered curious looks. He was about to pound on his neighbor's door to tell him to shut the hell up with the karaoke.

"Steve, go tell him to stop," Sam groaned from his room.

"You could go, too, you know?" Steve grumbled.

Sam merely gestured vaguely and rolled back over.

Steve stepped out of his apartment and into the hall, immediately thankful for his thick woolen socks. He knew knitting would come in handy someday. He was even getting good enough to do patterns. This pair was orange and purple argyle.

He squared his skinny shoulders, tilted his chin at what Sam would undoubtedly describe as a truculent angle, and knocked on the door as noisily as he could. He wasn't sure if he'd been heard at first, and was raising his fist to knock again when the door burst open and there in front of him stood the most handsome man he'd ever seen in the history of his 22 short years.

Taller than Steve (not that that was any great feat), he had fluffy brown hair, grey eyes that made Steve think of a storm about to break, the crookedest, easiest grin playing on his outrageously sexy lips, and what looked like the end of a very intricate tattoo that ended on his wrist where his long sleeve rode up. This guy managed to take the wind out his sails before he even got to yell at him for making too much noise.

***

Who the hell was knocking? It was three in the morning! Bucky opened the door and found the sexiest little thing he'd ever seen staring up at him with a truculent tilt to his chin. Frankly ridiculous blue eyes glared up at him from under thick, long lashes and Bucky would be damned there wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't do to see those full lips smiling at him, especially with that little hoop in the corner. Fuck, but Bucky wanted to bite it. As it was, he was being frowned at so severely that he was becoming legitimately concerned that the blond, skinny sex-god in front of him would hurt himself. So, he leaned against the door, purposefully allowing his shirt to ride up and grinned.