Jason leans over Bucky's shoulder to look over the blueprints. "Tell me you didn't fake my death and bust me out of jail to rob a museum."
Steve looks up from across the table where he's sketching something. "No," Steve says. "We broke you out because you're the best at what you do."
"And," Bucky adds, wrapping an arm around Jason's waist. It's summer, and hot as fuck in this room, but he's wearing long sleeves to cover up the scars from a few years back when he nearly had his arm burnt off in an explosives mishap. "We faked your death because we missed you."
"That, too," Steve agrees.
"Definitely feelin' the love," Jason says. "Still." He makes a face. "Museums? They're just a bunch of old stuff."
"You're a bunch of old stuff," Bucky says, poking Jason in the ribs.
"Me?" Jason asks. "'Scuse me, but last time I checked, you two were the cradle-robbers around here. I mean," Jason teases, sighing, "Before you found me, I was just an innocent seventeen-year-old kid with a heart full of hope."
Steve stares at him. "You mean a seventeen-year-old kid who conned our doorman into letting you into the apartment?"
"You mean, a seventeen-year-old punk who made off with half a dozen art forgeries before we tracked you down?" Bucky adds.
"You say tomato…"
They'd tracked him down to the hole he'd been squatting in off and on since his mom took off and his dad went to prison. Bucky wanted to kick his ass and take the stuff back. Steve, seeing all the other lifted stuff maybe or maybe just being Steve, offered to buy him lunch – and then offered him a job.
Jason didn't get it at first, what they were giving him. Most guys who had approached him before wanted something else - but Jason practically had to crawl into their bed before they asked for anything else from him but a decent work ethic.
Bucky even laughed it off, that first week they met, when Jason lifted his wallet so effortlessly that it took him hours to even notice.
Jason could've left any time, a couple hundred thousand to his name, and they would have let him.
But the thing about thieves is, sometimes they steal your heart.
"Look," Steve says. He puts his sketchpad down, comes around the table to stand next to Jason. Without even thinking about it, Jason leans back into him. "You can say no, and we'll understand." His breath is warm on Jason's skin, and his hand presses against Jason's chest, right over his heart.
Bucky stands, too, and he and Steve share a look before he looks back at Jason. "You could've turned us in any time, kid, and you didn't. We get that."
"But," Steve says, "if you want out – if you want to stay with us or – whatever, Jason. We'll get it."
Jason thinks about it for maybe half a second. Yeah, maybe now that he's out of jail, and no one's looking for him, he could be some normal guy somewhere. But then again –
He pulls Bucky forward by the front of his shirt, kisses him hard. Then he leans back, tilts his head so he can do the same to Steve. Steve turns Jason around so they're pressed together chest to chest, and Jason gets that same need as ever to just curl up around Steve like a damn cat.
For a while, when Jason first met them, he thought about breaking them apart, stealing one from the other. Then he realized he could never choose.
Jason breaks the kiss. He looks at Steve, presses back against Bucky and says, "You kiddin' me? I leave for six months and you guys are lost without me. Of course I'm in."
Bucky snorts, and Steve shakes his head. "He's hopeless," Steve says to Bucky, and Jason moves sideways so Steve can bow his head toward Bucky.
"I've been telling you that for years," Bucky says. He gets his hand on the back of Steve's neck and kisses him. Jason watches them, the way they move against each other, easy and messy and right, and he feels hungry and needy and something like home.
"Yeah," Jason says, "That's what I missed."
They stop to look at him, and Jason says, "Well, that and stealing stuff. You know. It's kind of a tie."
"So maybe we should break that tie," Steve says, and Bucky starts working on Jason's belt while Steve helps Jason with his shirt, and yeah, Jason is exactly where he's supposed to be.
fill
Steve looks up from across the table where he's sketching something. "No," Steve says. "We broke you out because you're the best at what you do."
"And," Bucky adds, wrapping an arm around Jason's waist. It's summer, and hot as fuck in this room, but he's wearing long sleeves to cover up the scars from a few years back when he nearly had his arm burnt off in an explosives mishap. "We faked your death because we missed you."
"That, too," Steve agrees.
"Definitely feelin' the love," Jason says. "Still." He makes a face. "Museums? They're just a bunch of old stuff."
"You're a bunch of old stuff," Bucky says, poking Jason in the ribs.
"Me?" Jason asks. "'Scuse me, but last time I checked, you two were the cradle-robbers around here. I mean," Jason teases, sighing, "Before you found me, I was just an innocent seventeen-year-old kid with a heart full of hope."
Steve stares at him. "You mean a seventeen-year-old kid who conned our doorman into letting you into the apartment?"
"You mean, a seventeen-year-old punk who made off with half a dozen art forgeries before we tracked you down?" Bucky adds.
"You say tomato…"
They'd tracked him down to the hole he'd been squatting in off and on since his mom took off and his dad went to prison. Bucky wanted to kick his ass and take the stuff back. Steve, seeing all the other lifted stuff maybe or maybe just being Steve, offered to buy him lunch – and then offered him a job.
Jason didn't get it at first, what they were giving him. Most guys who had approached him before wanted something else - but Jason practically had to crawl into their bed before they asked for anything else from him but a decent work ethic.
Bucky even laughed it off, that first week they met, when Jason lifted his wallet so effortlessly that it took him hours to even notice.
Jason could've left any time, a couple hundred thousand to his name, and they would have let him.
But the thing about thieves is, sometimes they steal your heart.
"Look," Steve says. He puts his sketchpad down, comes around the table to stand next to Jason. Without even thinking about it, Jason leans back into him. "You can say no, and we'll understand." His breath is warm on Jason's skin, and his hand presses against Jason's chest, right over his heart.
Bucky stands, too, and he and Steve share a look before he looks back at Jason. "You could've turned us in any time, kid, and you didn't. We get that."
"But," Steve says, "if you want out – if you want to stay with us or – whatever, Jason. We'll get it."
Jason thinks about it for maybe half a second. Yeah, maybe now that he's out of jail, and no one's looking for him, he could be some normal guy somewhere. But then again –
He pulls Bucky forward by the front of his shirt, kisses him hard. Then he leans back, tilts his head so he can do the same to Steve. Steve turns Jason around so they're pressed together chest to chest, and Jason gets that same need as ever to just curl up around Steve like a damn cat.
For a while, when Jason first met them, he thought about breaking them apart, stealing one from the other. Then he realized he could never choose.
Jason breaks the kiss. He looks at Steve, presses back against Bucky and says, "You kiddin' me? I leave for six months and you guys are lost without me. Of course I'm in."
Bucky snorts, and Steve shakes his head. "He's hopeless," Steve says to Bucky, and Jason moves sideways so Steve can bow his head toward Bucky.
"I've been telling you that for years," Bucky says. He gets his hand on the back of Steve's neck and kisses him. Jason watches them, the way they move against each other, easy and messy and right, and he feels hungry and needy and something like home.
"Yeah," Jason says, "That's what I missed."
They stop to look at him, and Jason says, "Well, that and stealing stuff. You know. It's kind of a tie."
"So maybe we should break that tie," Steve says, and Bucky starts working on Jason's belt while Steve helps Jason with his shirt, and yeah, Jason is exactly where he's supposed to be.