Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Captain America - All Media Types

Relationships:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Scott Hunter & Bucky Barnes

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), James "Bucky" Barnes, Kip Grady, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Harv Murdock (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Scott Hunter Needs a Hug (Game Changers), He gets traumatised instead, Crack Treated Seriously, The homophobic sniper that is tracking Scott Hunter's every move, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-24 Words: 5,590 Chapters: 1/1

Roommate (Not) Wanted: Brunet, Gay, from Brooklyn

Summary

Scott Hunter has always lived his life like there's a homophobic sniper tracking his every move, who gets a 'ping' any time he acts too gay. After half the government is revealed as a Nazi front, he discovers the sniper is in fact real (though not homophobic). He's now eating Lucky Charms in Scott's kitchen, saying something about a vacancy.

So Scott gets a roommate, but at least he knows he won't fall in love with this gay brunet from Brooklyn. After all, he's still hung up on the last one.

Notes

I cannot put into words just how much fic I have been writing over the last few days that will not see the light of day for MONTHS because I insist on finishing things before posting them. But suffice it to say, THIS fic was the result of one single evening of cackling to myself maniacally.

Shoutout to Azarias for coining "the homophobic sniper who tracks Scott's every move", because it's hilarious. Shoutout to me for deciding to put some more Stucky into these Stucky expies.

March, 2014

Press conferences have a trigger phrase in Scott’s mind, five words that always mean the world’s most insane bullshit has percolated on some god awful new social media website, and now some idiot journalist is making it Scott’s problem.

“I do have to ask,” the middle aged man says.

Scott braces for impact. Has he been outed? Did one of his Team USA teammates post a video of themselves jerking off on their gold medal, and Scott is now expected to comment? Is Rochester seceding from the union and forming a farming-and-carb based microstate?

“Why does HYDRA want you dead?” he finishes.

A thousand lifetimes worth of guesses, and still Scott would not have picked that.

“Uh, what?” Scott asks.

“You’re familiar with HYDRA?” the man (what was his name? Scott’s just going to call him Condescending).

“Yes, I am familiar with the Nazi organisation which was just revealed to have infiltrated half of our government,” Scott says. “I am not familiar with… any attempts on my life.”

“A number of documents in the HYDRA files, recently released, convey a deep-seated desire on the part of HYDRA’s leader, Alexander Pierce, to kill you,” Condescending says, like that’s not the most horrifying thing Scott has ever heard. “Along with Ilya Rozanov, Ryan Price, and Shane Hollander, but to a much lesser extent. And of the four of you, you’re the only one who was on the list to be immediately killed upon the launch of Project Insight.”

“I have no clue,” Scott says. “Should I be worried?”

Hadn’t Project Insight almost launched? Does Scott owe his life to Captain America? Well, everyone owes their life to Captain America…

“Has the MLH contacted you about organising security?” Condescending presses.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Coach Murdock chimes in. “Let’s leave it there.”

“Harv, should I be worried?” Scott asks, as he follows his coach into the tunnel. “I live in a penthouse with a private elevator. All you need is the right code and you’re in my living room. And it’s four digits.”

“The Admirals are on it, don’t worry,” Coach Murdock says. “You know, my cousin used to direct SHIELD? He faked his death a few days ago, and I figured the least he could do after making me cry in public was handle your security, so I put him on it.”

“That story sounds batshit insane, but okay,” Scott says. “Why would anyone want me dead? What the fuck did I do to them?”

“I met the guy once. Big Lincolns fan. He might have just wanted to take out the competition if they ever made the playoffs,” Coach Murdock says.

“That also sounds batshit insane, but okay,” Scott says. “Thank God Washington sucks.”

“It’s been great for the team’s image,” Coach Murdock says. “Everyone figures you must be a great guy if the Nazis want you dead.”

“Right,” Scott says.

*

Scott is sleeping in his far-too-big bed, clutching at a body pillow and pretending it’s Kip, when he hears the elevator chime.

Welp. He’s gonna fucking die. What a run he’s had. At least Kip’s not here to see it. Why the fuck did he think SHIELD’s director would be enough to protect him, when the idiot couldn’t spot the Nazis percolating under his nose?

Scott refuses to go out without a fight. He grabs his hockey stick and, despite being naked but for his boxers, goes out to confront his murderer with dignity.

The living room lights are on, which seems stupid for an assassin. The guy at the counter, however, is absolutely fucking terrifying, holy shit, and Scott drops his stick… and also feels a lot of blood rushing south, because he’s insanely hot too.

“Heard you had a vacancy,” the guy says, eating cereal from the box like an animal. Scott doesn’t even own cereal, this guy brought his own. “I’m Bucky, your new roommate.”

“What the fuck?” Scott asks, picking his stick back up in a flash and brandishing it threateningly. “This is my house!”

“Looks more like an apartment to me, man,” Bucky says. “Besides, I know you were shacking up with a gay brunet from Brooklyn until two months ago, so you can’t pretend you don’t have room.”

Scott has no fucking clue what to do here. This dude is obviously crazy. His giant metal arm with a red star on it keeps making this horrible whirring noise, and if Scott has to live with that, he’ll go insane… wait, why the fuck is he even considering this?

“You have to leave!” Scott says. “You can’t just take over my home!”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Bucky says, frowning. “I just figured you would want to live up to your title. But if you’re gonna be a dick about it, we can talk squatters rights.”

“My title?” Scott asks.

Bucky nods at the framed newspaper article – ‘Captain America’ Scott Hunter Leads Team USA to First Gold in 34 Years.

Bucky. Captain America.

“Holy shit, you’re Bucky Barnes?” Scott asks. “Aren’t you dead?”

“No, I got captured by Nazis and brainwashed. It was a whole thing,” Bucky says.

He recognises that flippant humour, the this is extremely traumatising but I’m pretending it’s fine thing. Fuck, now Scott is empathising with the guy. He drops the hockey stick instinctively.

“You have an incredible body, by the way,” Bucky says. “I feel like you need to drink more water, but still, great abs.”

“Thank you,” Scott says instinctively.

“Great dick, too,” Bucky says, chewing another mouthful of cereal.

“That’s a bit much,” Scott says.

“Is that why your boyfriend left, cause it was too much?” Bucky asks. “Wanted someone more average?”

Scott flinches – that’s fucking harsh, what the fuck did he do to deserve that – but then he realises something.

“Hey, hold on,” Scott says. “How do you know about Kip?”

“Wait, I thought it was Kit. His name is actually Kip?” Bucky says, incredulous. “KIP? He’s a grown man named Kip?”

“Says Bucky,” Scott says.

“Hey, Bucky is a perfectly normal nickname!” Bucky says. “It’s what you call a guy who’s good at sports.”

“So I’m also Bucky?” Scott asks.

“No, I’m Bucky,” Bucky says. “And I found out about your boyfriend because I spent ten years getting a ping on my phone any time you did something especially gay. Pierce didn’t like gays in his MLH, said it was the one pure sport left.”

“Pure?” Scott asks, because he doesn’t even want to go into the homophobic sniper aspect.

“You’re surprised that the Nazi leader didn’t love the gays?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not sure I’m physically capable of surprise anymore,” Scott says.

He gives in to the utter absurdity of the situation, and sits at the counter opposite Bucky, who is still chewing Lucky Charms from clammy handfuls.

“Can’t you put a tea-towel under that,” Scott asks, displeased at the mess. “I’m gonna have to clean it later.”

“I’ll clean it,” Bucky says. “I’m not an animal.”

“You’ll do it wrong,” Scott says.

“How the fuck can I clean wrong?” Bucky asks.

“You need to disinfect it three times, or I’ll get sick,” Scott says.

“That’s insane,” Bucky says. “You need a shrink.”

The brainwashed assassin at his kitchen counter talking about squatters rights in his one-bedroom, occupied Manhattan apartment thinks Scott needs a shrink. Every day since Kip left is a new low.

“Hey man, I don’t want actually want to take anything you don’t have to give,” Bucky says. “I just figured that we had a lot in common, you and I.”

“Oh yeah?” Scott asks. “Like what?”

“Like we’re both in love with guys the world won’t ever let us be with,” Bucky says.

Scott deflates.

“No calling Captain America, then?” Scott says. “You want to stay here, with his crappy knock-off hockey player equivalent?”

“You’re not a crappy knock-off!” Bucky says. “You didn’t even need a serum to get those abs! And you won the most important thing in hockey!”

“The most important thing in hockey is the Stanley Cup, and I’ve won none of those,” Scott says.

“Really? Not the Olympics?” Bucky asks. “But no one gives a shit about hockey, and everyone loves the Olympics!”

“If you’re going to be staying here, you need to learn about hockey,” Scott says. “And you’re not allowed to root for the Scouts. I know they’re from Brooklyn, but you are now an Admirals fan. And when you see him again, so is Steve Rogers.”

“So, I can stay?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, you can stay,” Scott says. “You’ve already proven that my security is shit, so congratulations, consider yourself promoted to bodyguard.”

“Yeah, I don’t why you thought Nick Fury would be a good choice, considering his track record,” Bucky says. “He was technically my boss for twenty years and didn’t know I existed until I tried to kill him.”

“His cousin is my coach,” Scott says.

“Really?” Bucky asks. “Small world.”

*

Scott will give Bucky this: he is a very polite houseguest. Unfortunately, that means that when he gets home from practice the next day, he does not have a gay Brooklyn brunet to greet him, and he is slightly disappointed about it.

“What are you moping about?” Bucky asks when he returns two hours later.

“Nothing,” Scott says.

What is he gonna say, I was hoping you’d be waiting for me after practice?

“Oh, is this the I want you to be waiting for me after practice thing?” Bucky asks. “Cause I’m not going to lie, my brains were being regularly scrambled with electroshock therapy to suppress my memories, and even I thought he was gonna run after that.”

“How much of my fucking life have you been listening to?” Scott asks. “Anyway, it’s fine. I’m sure you had a very busy day of, ah…”

“Setting up a bank account,” Bucky says. “Civilian identities are hard work.”

“Oh,” Scott says. “I thought you’d be, like, clearing out old HYDRA bases or something.”

“I’m tired of fighting,” Bucky says simply.

“Me too,” Scott says. “But my fights are much easer than yours. You ever tried to throw a punch on ice skates?”

“I killed a Soviet official with ice skates, once,” Bucky says. “Pretended it was a freak accident.”

Scott doesn’t know how to respond to that one, so he just moves to the kitchen, opens the fridge door, and looks unhappily at its contents. Practice days mean no regular deliveries from his nutritionist, and everything here needs to be cooked.

“Oh, I can cook, by the way!” Bucky says. “I was thinking some nice pasta tonight, what were— why are you crying?”

“Sorry,” Scott says. “It’s just… Kip used to make me pasta.”

“My God you’re a sap,” Bucky says. “Alright, I have to say it: there’s no brainwashed homophobic sniper chasing after you anymore, why can’t you be with Kip now?”

“I never knew about the sniper in the first place!” Scott says. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but hockey is a full contact sport, any guy who doesn’t like me being gay – which is at least two-thirds of them – can just fucking attack me at any time!”

“Wait, I thought things were better now?” Bucky asks. “You’re telling me they still beat guys up for that?”

“Better doesn’t mean good.” Scott lets the fridge door swing closed. “It’s still pretty fucking awful.”

“And I guess you can’t stick a nail in a bat and beat up the homophobes?” Bucky asks.

“HYDRA made you do some weird shit, huh?” Scott asks.

“No, that was just Brooklyn in the 30s,” Bucky says. “HYDRA mostly just gave me a rifle. So if things are so bad, why doesn’t he get why you can’t tell people?”

“He gets it,” Scott says. “He just would prefer not to have to deal with it, I guess. Stayed around til the sex got dull, then fucked off.”

“Hmm,” Bucky says again.

*

Scott comes back from practice the next day to a far stranger sight.

“Kip!” Scott says. “What are… Bucky, what did you do?”

“I went for a nice walk to my childhood home,” Bucky says. “You know, Brooklyn’s changed a lot. Anyway, I just wanted to hear Kip’s side of the story, and it’s weird, because it was very different to yours.”

“You thought I got sick of you?” Kip asks.

Scott is immediately on the back foot, but he’s not taking this crap lying down.

“You’re the one who decided not to tell anyone other than Elena,” Scott says. “You’re the one who was fine with me staying in the closet until it suddenly got inconvenient. You’re the one who left!”

“You’re the one who said that your family was the fucking MLH!” Kip says. “How the fuck am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You weren’t competing!” Scott says.

He’s trying not to raise his voice, but honestly.

“You said you weren’t coming out until your career was done,” Kip says. “It sure sounds like we’re competing to me.”

“Because you gave me an ultimatum!” Scott says. “You sprung it on me last minute, like I can go to a fucking gay bar and not immediately have everyone know! You lied about Maria not knowing, like she wasn’t right fucking there when we were eyefucking over the counter! How the fuck was I supposed to respond?”

“Alright, here's your ultimatum,” Kip says. “If it was me or hockey, which would you pick?”

“I would pick you!” Scott says. “But you never fucking gave me that choice, Kip! You told me come to this gay bar with all my friends or I’ll leave!”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Bucky says. “But it sounds like you’re both going in circles. Kip, do you want to get back together with Scott?”

“As long as I can tell the people I care about, then yeah,” Kip says.

“And Scott, are you fine with that?” Bucky asks.

“I never had a problem with that in the first place!” Scott says. “I said it was fine when you told Elena, didn’t I?”

“It didn’t seem like you thought it was fine,” Kip mutters.

“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t immediately fucking enthusiastic about it, since you never even mentioned you had anyone you wanted to tell!” Scott says.

“It’s implied!” Kip says. “Did you think I had no one else in the world?”

“I had no one else in the world, Kip!” Scott says. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that you did, when you didn’t tell me?”

“Again, I’m getting a lot of anger,” Bucky says. “I think you two should maybe jumpcut to the makeup sex.”

“I…” Scott says. “Actually, that does sound like a good idea.”

“Yeah, I’m sold,” Kip says.

*

“So Bucky’s our roommate now?” Kip asks.

“Hmm?” Scott replies into Kip’s back. “Oh yeah. He doesn’t sleep much, though. Or at least, he’s never on the couch when I wake up in the night.”

“How did that happen, exactly?” Kip asks.

“Something about squatter’s rights,” Scott says. “It’s fine. He cooks! Apparently one of his covers was as a French chef, so he’s actually really good at it.”

“Isn’t he a fugitive?” Kip asks.

“His legal situation is currently unclear,” Scott says. “Technically, he was still a prisoner of war until a few weeks ago.”

“That sounds like a really fucking tenuous legal situation for you to be wading into, Scott,” Kip says.

“HEY!” Bucky shouts. “I FIX YOUR RELATIONSHIP AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?”

“SORRY!” Kip shouts back.

“You don’t need to shout, he has super-hearing,” Scott says.

“YOU JUST DEAFENED ME, ASSHOLE!” Bucky shouts.

“Don’t call Kip an asshole,” Scott says.

“SORRY, KIP!” Bucky shouts back.

*

April, 2014

“Is it normal to play on an ACL tear?” Bucky asks.

“What?” Scott asks. “Whose ACL is torn?”

“That guy!” Bucky says, pointing out Tomlin, the New Jersey goalkeeper who has single handedly knocked the Admirals out of the playoffs two years running. “I know what an ACL tear looks like!”

“Interesting,” Scott says. Does this count as cheating? “Who else on the team is injured?”

“I’ll write up a list,” Bucky says. “Can’t have fucking Boston winning. Oh, by the way, I got you something.”

Bucky unearths a file folder from behind his back on the couch, which he tosses to Scott.

“What the fuck?” Scott asks.

“Cool, right?” Bucky says.

“How the fuck do you have so much blackmail on the entire MLH?” Scott asks.

“I told you, Pierce was a big fan,” Bucky says. “Safer for you to come out now, right?”

“Vincent Lemaire fucked his GM’s wife?” Scott asks. “What the… how do you know exactly which players are homophobic?”

“I told you,” Bucky says patiently. “Big, big fan.”

“Rozanov is bi?” Scott asks. “Hollander is fucking Rozanov? Is that why he got so pissy when I brought Rozanov up?”

“I really thought you knew that one,” Bucky says. “Well done on hitting his biggest insecurity by accident, I guess. But then, he did the same to you, so…”

“No, he didn’t,” Scott lies.

Hope next time we play you decide to show up has definitely not been playing in his brain on a loop ever since that fucking game.

“I was watching you, remember?” Bucky says. “I swear I could hear Hello Darkness My Old Friend playing as you went back to your hotel that night. The whole scene was in black and white. And raining, too.”

“Kip, what have I told you about showing Bucky art memes?” Scott shouts.

“Sorry!” Kip shouts back.

“Again,” Bucky says, less patient. “My ears?”

“Sorry,” Scott says. “Why are none of the Admirals homophobic? Well, except Zullo, I guess, thank God he left, but… wait, are you the reason he traded away on the last day of the deadline?”

“See, that was my original audition for Best Roommate Ever,” Bucky says. “But I didn’t even need to bring it up! Anyway, I can’t take credit for the rest of it, your buddy Carter Vaughn has been bullying homophobes out of the team for years.”

“Huh,” Scott says. He navigates over to that part of the file. “Why is he in dark green?”

“That means he knows about you specifically being gay, and is fine with it,” Bucky says. “He wants to be your favourite ally so bad. Poor guy.”

“Eric is bi?” Scott says. “Since when?”

“Birth, probably,” Bucky says. “Anyway, I think you should try Sports Illustrated, when you come out.”

“Good plan,” Scott says.

*

May 2014

“To destroying New Jersey!” Bucky says, before sipping at his whiskey. “Doesn’t get me drunk anymore, but still delicious.”

“Cheers to that!” Scott says. “Montreal will be easier, probably. Their goalie is shit this year.”

“Their whole team is shit, besides Hollander,” Kip says.

“By the way,” Bucky says. “If Captain America were to start sniffing around here, you’ll tell him to fuck off, right?”

“Right,” Scott says. “Why are we telling Captain America to fuck off?”

“Because we can never be together,” Bucky says. “Remember?”

“Sure, but you never really explained why,” Scott says.

“Because he’s a hero, and I’m a monster!” Bucky says.

“Incorrect,” Scott says. “You were brainwashed. It doesn’t count.”

“Legally, it literally doesn’t count,” Kip says. “You can’t commit a crime without voluntariness, it’s an essential component of every actus reus. And that’s before you get to the mens rea aspect, or defences, or the fact that, as a POW and under the Hague Invasion Act, you’re only subject to the jurisdiction of a military tribunal, even if you weren’t in the United States.”

Scott and Bucky both look queerly at Kip for that one.

“I did a law class once,” Kip says. “Wasn’t for me, but I still remember how to do the research.”

“Not for you? Not a big fan of being employed, huh?” Scott teases.

“See, I’d make you sleep on the couch for that, but your plan A was professional athlete and that was before the concussions, so I can’t hold it against you,” Kip says, sweet as sugar.

“Rude,” Bucky says. “This is why Scott thought you were only with him for his body.”

“Shut up, Barnes,” Kip says. “If Captain America comes around, I’m selling you out in a second.”

“No, you’re not,” Bucky says. “I can tell when you lie.”

“What, with your magical hearing?” Kip asks.

“Yes,” Bucky confirms. “But also because you’re both terrible liars.”

“He’s got us there, Kip,” Scott says.

*

June, 2014

Scott is not a petty man, but winning a Stanley Cup before either of Hollander and Rozanov and their endless chirps on his age is very fucking sweet icing on an already delicious cake.

Bringing Kip down to the ice, and kissing him in front of God, a cowed Roger Crowell (shouldn’t have embezzled all that money, dickhead!), and 18,000 New York fans has his pathetic little heart full to bursting. Truly, nothing can bring him down from here.

*

July, 2014

“Uhh,” Scott says eloquently.

“Hello, Scott,” Steve Rogers says, sitting at his kitchen counter and eating a bowl of lucky charms. With milk. And a spoon.

Why does this keep happening when he’s in his boxers? It’s the middle of the night, and all he’d wanted was to know when Kip would be coming home from work.

“This is breaking and entering?” Scott says, annoyed at the way his voice cracks and inflects up, like he’s asking a question.

“Just one guy wishing another guy a happy birthday,” Steve Rogers says. “You know, since we both famously have the same birthday, 65 years apart?”

“Right,” Scott says. “Happy birthday?”

“And for my birthday, I think I deserve a gift, right?” Steve Rogers asks.

“Right,” Scott says, beginning to worry.

His breath hitches as he’s pinned, a knife placed at his throat. Immediately, his heart is pounding at quadruple speed. Holy shit. Holy shit. He’s too young, too pretty to die. He has so much to live for. He—

“HEY!” Bucky says. “Back the fuck away from him!”

“Bucky,” Steve Rogers says. “You’re confused. It’s fine. He’s your handler, right? We can get him to talk—”

“He’s not my fucking handler, you fucking buffoon!” Bucky says. “He’s my roommate.”

Scott’s pretty sure he could be dying with more dignity than this, but he’s sobbing profusely and begging for mercy, not for him, but for Kip, because where is he, please God tell me Kip is okay. He’s also hard, again, because for some reason having his life threatened is hot to him.

“Then why was he in the HYDRA files as a personal enemy of Alexander Pierce?” Steve asks. “If not his potential replacement as head of HYDRA?”

“Do you not remember being a Dodgers fan, Rogers?” Bucky asks. “Do you not remember telling me, to my face, that you would asphyxiate Babe Ruth with a dish towel to win a World Series?”

Steve Rogers makes a gesture, and Scott is dropped to the ground, the knife at his throat letting up at last.

“Bucky, where’s Kip?” Scott asks. “Please God tell me he’s okay?”

“He’s fine, I promise,” Bucky says, to Scott’s immediate relief. “And would a fucking HYDRA agent be begging for the return of his gay lover, Steven Grant Rogers?”

“It is possible I have slightly misread the situation,” Steve Rogers says.

“You fucking traumatised him!” Bucky says. “Look at him! He’s got anxiety now!”

“I definitely had anxiety already,” Scott says, through his tears.

He can already feel the stone walls of compartmentalisation slamming around this day in his mind… but he can also feel his arms sliding around his scrunched up knees, as he rocks himself into a foetal position. The knife wielding maniac, who he now recognises as the fucking Black Widow, pats him commiseratingly on the shoulder that, a minute ago, she’d had effortlessly pinned. He wants his Kip, a hot toddy, and a hug. He wants them now.

“You made his anxiety worse!” Bucky says.

“What was I supposed to think?” Steve Rogers asks. “When Fury told me you were staying here—”

“Do NOT mention that idiot’s name in my presence!” Bucky says. “And you, Natalia! I trained you better than this.”

“Sorry, what?” Steve Rogers asks.

“You attacked my roommate!” Bucky says. “On his birthday. I’m glad I already beat you up, Rogers, because I have half a mind to do it again! That pounding you took on that carrier? Think of it as punishment for this!”

“He’s fine!” Steve Rogers says. “You’re fine, right?”

“You killed his afterglow!” Bucky says. “This is the first time he’s been happy since his parents died, and you killed it! He’s never getting that back!”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you’d just come to me instead of replacing me with the nearest substitute you could find!” Steve Rogers sounds outraged, now. “What, you googled ‘Orphan + July 4 Birthday + New York + Nicknamed Captain America’ and thought huzzah, new best friend?”

“You attacked me in my home because you thought I had stolen your boyfriend, and you didn’t even think we were dating?” Scott asks his knees.

“Uhh,” Steve Rogers says. “I think it’s important to keep in mind that we are all imperfect human beings who make mistakes. I am… very sorry, Mr Hunter. We really did have intelligence suggesting you were working with HYDRA. And we wouldn’t have actually harmed you unless you appeared to be a threat.”

“Did that intelligence come from Nick Fury?” Bucky asks. “Because he’s a massive Raiders fan.”

“I’m sure Nick wouldn’t try and have someone killed because he played for the wrong hockey team,” Steve Rogers says.

“No, he probably would,” the Black Widow chimes in. “He’s a bit nuts about hockey. But he had credible intelligence here.”

“He let a HYDRA assassin come into Scott’s apartment multiple times and did nothing?” Bucky asks. “This is the guy you trust? He probably realised I wasn’t actually going to kill Scott and decided to speed it up.”

“Every file on the Winter Soldier says that when your primary command leader is killed, you go down the list to secondary command leaders until you find the most senior handler left standing,” the Black Widow says. “It was credible intelligence! He would have stepped in if, ah, Mr Hunter was actually in danger. It’s not our fault you… magically reversed years of brainwashing.”

“Fuck off and die, Natashenka,” Bucky says. “I have enhanced neuroplasticity from the serum, they had to fry off my frontal lobe every other day and deeply embed trigger words into my psyche with the fucking Tesseract to stop me from escaping and I still managed it half the time, we don’t all need five fucking years to shake it off. It was a shitty lead and you know it! Scott, you should sue both these clowns.”

“Seriously?” Steve Rogers asks. “Well, this has been a fucking awful experience on multiple levels. Scott, I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

“Please don’t kill anyone else,” Scott tells his knees. “You saved my life once, we’re even, just leave me alone. Where’s Kip? I want Kip.”

“He’s in the second bedroom,” Bucky says.

“I don’t have a second bedroom,” Scott says.

“Yes you do?” Bucky says, confused. “Behind the giant false wall? Where I’ve been sleeping for the last four months?”

Scott looks up, confused, as Bucky points at the very real feature wall. The wall which splits in two to reveal Kip, looking as angry as a 5’8 art snob ever could.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Kip asks Steve Rogers, snarling, pointing an actual finger in his chest. Scott is starting to understand why Kip’s always so ripped. He is an angry man. “You think cause you’re a big guy, you can push Scott around? You think you can just march in here and start attacking people in their homes? Glove up, tough guy, fucking try me!”

“Wow,” Steve Rogers says. “It’s like looking into a mirror.” To Bucky, he says “How did you find two guys who are somehow both of us at once?”

“Kip,” Scott cries out. He doesn’t want anger, he wants a hug.

Kip takes a moment to detach from his rage, but then he’s off like a shot to Scott’s side, hugging him tight, kissing his brow and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Scott just crumples into him, not crying any more but still breathing deep, the terror of the day crashing down on him and leaving him tired, weak.

“This is what happens when you trust the fucking government,” Bucky is ranting in the background. “You attack a civilian.”

“Since when do you hate the government?” Steve Rogers asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe since they captured and brainwashed me, you half-wit roid-abuser!” Bucky says.

“Please leave,” Scott says. “Bucky can stay.”

“He’s a fugitive,” the Black Widow says.

“He’s legally only subject to a military tribunal, and neither of you are in the military,” Scott says.

“Bucky, please?” Steve Rogers says. “None of this would have happened if you’d come to—”

“Go ahead, asshole,” Kip says. “Finish that fucking sentence. Spew out the victim blaming bullshit on your lips.”

“It’s fine, Kip. He just misses his boyfriend,” Scott says.

God knows he remembers his desperation when Kip was out of his life, and that was just a few months, not literal years. He is still sympathetic.

“He’s just also a fucking weirdo who has no idea how to express that normally. And I would like for him to leave,” Scott finishes, because he’s not a saint.

“Fine,” Steve Rogers says. “I’m very sorry, again,” he says to Scott on his way out.

“What do you see in him?” Kip asks Bucky, not even bothering to wait until Steve Rogers has left.

“Down, boy,” Bucky says. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Scott.”

*

The next day dawns bright and early, and the sunlight is stinging Scott’s tear-stained eyes.

“You alright?” Kip asks him, squeezing him so tight they might as well be a single person.

“No,” Scott says. “I’ll need lots of blowjobs to feel better.”

“You’re fine,” Kip says.

“I’m in agony!” Scott says. “I need it, my love! I— AHH!”

Scott isn’t proud of it, but he literally shields Kip with his body at the sight of Black Widow and Steve Rogers in his kitchen again.

“Please don’t hurt him,” Scott says. “He’s done nothing.”

“Sorry, guys, I invited them in,” Bucky says. “No one’s getting attacked this time.”

“You’re terrified of them, and you’re still protecting me?” Kip asks Scott, pure love and devotion in his eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Gross,” the Black Widow says.

“Insult my boyfriend again and you can get the fuck out of my apartment,” Scott says, now that it’s obvious no one is getting attacked.

The Black Widow mimes zipping her lips, though not without a derisive glance down, because Scott is once again in his fucking boxers and once again he is fucking hard.

“I hate you so much,” Scott tells his penis.

“I’m flattered,” Black Widow says.

“I’m gay,” Scott says. “I just like knives.”

“Who amongst us doesn’t have a knife kink?” Bucky asks.

Not one of them raises their hand.

“Anyway, Scott, it looks like our roommate arrangement is coming to an end,” Bucky says. “I can’t really let anyone else get hurt for me.”

“Please don’t leave on my account,” Scott says. “I’d take a thousand knives to keep you safe.”

“Once again, gross,” Black Widow says. “Your boyfriend is the other one.”

“You’re in danger as long as you’re around me,” Bucky says. “I thought I was hot shit, could keep everyone away from me, but clearly not. So I’m leaving, but! I will keep in touch.”

“And I won’t let him get black bagged,” Steve Rogers says. “Once again, very sorry about the mix-up last night.”

“It’s fine,” Scott says. “Just… if you come back, give me a chance to get dressed first?”

“Oh, I put a proper front door in front of your elevator,” Bucky says. “It took some doing to put in some walls, but it locks, and everything. Keys are on the counter, or you can set a code if you want, but I suggest the keys. They’re more secure.”

“How?” Scott asks.

“I have a bachelor’s in civil engineering from Columbia,” Bucky says. “Class of 1939.”

“No, I mean how did you install a door in twelve hours while we were sleeping?” Scott asks.

“I killed Hitler, Stalin, and JFK without anyone noticing,” Bucky says. “I think I can manage a door.”

“Maybe don’t mention that at the tribunal,” Steve Rogers says.

*

August, 2014

“Well, it’s better than nothing?” Kip says.

The tweet, from @OfficialCaptainAmerica, reads FYI, if any homophobes at the MLH want to harm/insult/look funny at my good friend @HuntingforScotts, I’ll provide a free rhinoplasty.

The number of vaguely threatening text messages Scott has received has dropped to almost nothing, and he’s instead received a number of desperate apologies, which he is leaving on read.

“This is just embarrassing,” Scott says.

He glances down to see yet another text. This one, from Ilya Rozanov, a screenshot of the tweet accompanied with a question of how long he’s been cheating on his “much younger boyfriend” with “someone age appropriate”.

Scott shouldn’t, but…

He texts back tell Shane I said hello.

Rozanov doesn’t reply.