NOTES
I got the image from the clothing site Red Bubble. The design I chose was created by morigirl and can be found here. Then I used Microsoft Paint and added the additional text. Note that I do not own any of the characters or the original artwork.
Steve/Bucky sorta, fluff. Fluffy February, fishing, NYC, after Civil War,
“Prospect Park. 6am. Come alone.”
It had been a few months since Bucky had returned. Steve and the rest of the Avengers had apparently made up and were all living together commune-style in upstate New York. Bucky was not invited. Guess Tony Stark could only forgive so much.
Bucky didn’t blame him. He murdered the guy’s parents after all. Even if he had forgiven him and invited him to stay, there was no way he wanted to be stuck with all those people, strangers really, in a secure compound. So Bucky had wished Steve well and vanished into the city. He was sure Steve had looked for him for a while, but if there was one thing Bucky was good at, it was disappearing.
At least, that’s what he’d thought. Then this note turned up on his bed. Bucky was staying in this 6th floor dump of a studio apartment. Sure, the neighborhood was crap and there were drug and weapons deals on every floor, but since he used the fire escape, it didn’t matter to him. He kept the door bolted and the place secure.
And yet, the note. Bucky read it one more time. Prospect Park. He knew the place. He and Steve had been there dozens of times as kids. They used to go fishing there for hours. Sometimes they didn’t catch a thing. But it wasn’t just about catching fish — it was about being together.
He wound up so lost in his memories of simpler times that he fell asleep on the couch. For once, his dreams weren’t full of violence and death, but peaceful water and birds calling in the background.
The next day Bucky was awake before the sky had begun to lighten. He hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but he still had plenty of time to make the rendezvous. He wasn’t at all sure what Steve had in mind, but as he changed into his dark combat gear and strapped on his weapons, he tried to clear his head and focus on the mission. Steve had called. That was all that mattered.
He arrived early enough to pick a good spot with plenty of coverage and a good view of the public. The park was pretty big, but he instinctively knew where Steve would arrive. The same place he always did. The place they had gone when they were younger.
It was nearly an hour before Bucky spotted him. Short trimmed sandy blond hair, parade posture, and – was that a beard? Bit of a change for mister clean cut all-American.
Then Bucky noticed what Steve was carrying. It wasn’t a duffle bag designed for holding a rifle. It wasn’t a backpack or a gun case. It was a – what the hell was it?
It was a fishing tackle box. And he carried a couple of fishing poles. Steve Rogers was going fishing? He wore a New York baseball cap, an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts, for God’s sake. What the hell was going on?
Then he just walked up to a bench and stood there, eyes wandering around the park like he had all the time in the world.
Bucky dropped out of the tree and walked up to him. “You know, I could have shot you a dozen times by now.”
Steve just handed him a fishing pole. “Yeah, but then who would help me catch these fish?”
Bucky tilted his head and stared at him. “Did you really just spend months tracking me down to ask me to go fishing?”
Steve laughed. “Of course not. I got Natasha to do the tracking.”
Bucky didn’t move. Steve sighed. “Look, I tried taking the others. Tony can’t shut up for five minutes. He scares all the fish away. Clint’s not bad, but he’s busy with the kids. Natasha was not interested and Bruce is only interested if Natasha goes.”
“What about Flyboy?” Bucky asked in spite of himself.
“Sam? Sure, we went one or twice. It was fun.” Steve turned to look at Bucky. “But he’s not you.”
Bucky didn’t have an answer.
As Bucky watched, Steve pulled off his baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair. He fought the urge to smooth it back down. Steve continued, “Look, buddy, I didn’t have any ulterior motives. I just thought it had been a long time since I’d seen you and I wanted to be sure you were okay.” Those blue eyes focused in on his own and his heart skipped a beat. “I missed you.”
After a pause, Bucky sighed. “Well, if you’re going to get all mushy on me.” He grabbed the tackle box. “I guess I got a little time.”
The two companions settled into a quiet sheltered spot and threaded their fishing poles. Pretty soon they were just sitting, side by side, not needing to say a word.
This story will also be available on Archive of our own. Comments are welcome!
Speedy Reader 