“Hey, 6B.” – chapter 6

Story Summary: Bucky is on a Mission: Find out about his past and try to remember the Man in Blue. His “mission” takes him to Boston where he meets the fun and flirty, Colin Shea. With Colin’s help, he might just find all the answers he’s been searching for…but he also might find love. With outside pressures, Bucky has to decide between remaining in the dark and staying with Colin or going after the man who haunts his nightmares.

Crossover: What’s Your Number? meets Captain America: Winter Soldier/The Avengers/Captain America: Civil War (more the movies and less the books or graphic novels)

Rating: R if this was a movie. MA if it was a TV show. Mature on Archive of Our Own. Not rated on Tumblr. There is some LGBTQ/slash sexual situations, though nothing erotic. It’s a simple Rated-R romcom. No porn. (Think along the lines of Wings meets Love, Darrows, kiTT.) As Cap would say: Language! Because yes, there is some language and double entendres. Not so much violence as of now.

Genre: RomCom/Action

Chapter word count: 1,611

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Colin Shea

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their original creators. There is no copyright infringement intended. This is all done in fun and love for my favorite movies. Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Notes:  Well, the more I type, the more I watch Captain America, the more I watch What’s Your Number?, the more I love this story. Chapter one of two posting today. Total inspiration for this chapter:

Really, it’s anytime that Colin is playing the guitar and singing in What’s Your Number?

Now, on with Bucky’s story…


 

6.

 

Sunday morning and the quiet roars. The city noise is barely a whisper in the far distance, her lights as dim. Colin shuffled around his apartment until two when all noise on the other side of the wall died. Not enough sounds to distract my mind into sleeping. I missed the sex god reviews. It was something to think about instead of laying here and thinking about the Man in Blue. And why I think his name is Steve. Or about how Natasha or Nancy or whomever she is has taken a quick interest in me. The different names. She’s a spy, though not for Hydra, because I’d be dead already. And if she’s with S.H.I.E.L.D., she would have taken me in moment one.

There has to be something I can find about her…

…but I can’t scour for any information until I figure out this computer thing. Six hours now and I’m still staring at starry skies and bouncing images of foxes and music notes. Crackles and pops fill my ears as I roll my head in frustration. The “genius” promised me this would give some answers. I am doing the exact thing the salesman did—click on the fox to get a blank white screen, click the red dot to close the emptiness. I can’t figure out how the bouncing things are supposed to get me onto the internet he mentioned. I must have stolen a defective model.

I need to rethink my research options. Library. Newspaper archives. I’ve done it in DC and Philly, but it took too long and the information was severely lacking.

After a few more arrow adjustments, a few clicks, still no progress. “I give up.”

“You’re once…twice…three times a lady,” comes through the bricks. A beautiful medley accompanied by a strumming guitar. Distracting and catchy in a good way. On his fourth play, I find myself singing along.

It figures that Colin can sing. Colin can flirt. Colin can do lots of things.

dig up dirt…

The defective computer crashes on the floor as I scramble to my bare feet. I fasten the button on my black jeans and grab my t-shirt. It goes over my head, arms out quickly, as I pad up the four steps in my apartment. My door flings open and I find myself in front of 6A. I knock just below the brass designation. “Colin?”

6A’s door pops open and I taste floor. Colin seems to wear this outfit every morning and is willing to show it off. Not that there is anything wrong with a muscular chest and tight abs falling into a lovely V. The hand towel has been replaced by a yellowish-tan guitar, starting at the V and covering his…

“Hey, 6B. I didn’t think you’d want to be with me yet.”

“Um…” What was I going to ask?

“Come in.”

Colin takes four steps down into the belly of his apartment, showing off that tight, bubble-shaped ass and leaving me to gape in awe from the front door. His guitar drops into his desk chair as he shuffles by, leaving him completely naked. He pauses to pick up a navy robe from the end of the bed. He slides into it and fastens the tie around his waist as he continues on his path into the kitchen portion of the large room.

“Would you like a beer?”

“Sure.” I step inside the small apartment and shut the door. My eyes take a guilty roam around his room, trying their damnedest to stay off the robe gaping below the belt. A guitar, a desk and a barely made bed round out the real estate on the left side of the room—our shared border. The brick wall over the desk holds a giant white board with a bunch of papers taped to it. “4D” is dead center and circled in blue. Lines of red and green shove off the center loop, one of them landing on a circled, blue “Bandit”. Question marks hover over another blue “2C” and the words “new neighbor: C-something” is in a black rectangle. Then in the bottom corner, “Julie from college” is scribbled in black.

“You like it? Doing some research on my neighbors. You can never be too safe when it comes to strangers.”

A cold beer bottle taps into my metal arm with a clink as though he’s toasting me. I grab the bottle and turn my head. My heart skips a beat as our eyes meet. A twist in my gut senses that he knows more about me than I previously thought. With more regret, my eyes drop. As they tumble, they snag on the hint of chest hair on his well-defined pecs, fall down those washboard abs until I’m staring at…

“Sorry,” Colin says in a quick breath. He pulls the blue fabric over himself, hiding it all away. “Remind me to never play guitar naked again. That thing gets way too cold against my penis.”

If that large size is a result from his penis being cold, then I’m inviting him to my igloo in the arctic.

Colin motions to the other end of the couch and says, “Don’t just stand there, make yourself at home, Buck.”

I sit on the other end of the couch. Colin twists off the lid of his beer allowing a pshht to interject. Pshht answers from my bottle as the lid twists free. I fling it on the table and take a long draw.

“The Patriots game doesn’t start for another hour. Did you want to catch the pre-game show?”

My eyes land on the white board again as I answer with a nonchalant, devil-may-care shrug. It hasn’t escaped my attention that my name and apartment number are missing from the questions the board is posing. “We could, or…you know the other day, you mentioned it was in your nature to dig up information on people?”

Colin tosses a quick glance at the board. “Oh, please tell me you have something on 4D. That’s been eating at me for weeks now.”

“Um…no. I, uh…wanted to ask you to help me with looking someone up.”

“Oh, yeah? Who? An old flame? A friend?”

I lean back and straighten out my legs. My hand dives into my pocket and pulls out the small, tan notebook I’ve been carrying around since I escaped Hydra in the Washington DC skirmish. It has my notes about life’s mysteries that are plaguing me, mostly about The Man in Blue. I flip past the first twenty pages or so, skipping the details I wrote about him and landing on a blank page, bearing my name and a few found details.

“His name is James Buchanan Barnes,” I say, reading my messy penmanship.

Colin takes a swig of beer and sets it on the small table in front of us. He reaches for the notebook. “May I?”

My notebook shrinks in Colin’s large hands. He reads the page and turns, reading the last few pieces of fact I have. His eyes don’t falter from the page. He swallows down some knot stuck in his throat and hesitates a moment before asking, “Is he your ex?”

“No. Distant relative. Grandfather.”

The notebook is returned to me. A satisfied smile toys at the edges of Colin’s mouth. “This seems a little fishy to me, Buck. Something isn’t sitting right. You’re telling me you haven’t covered the basics first—Google, Ancestry.com, Twitter.”

“Twitter?” I ask, returning the notebook to my pocket. “I’m not sure how giggling about something is supposed to help.”

Colin grabs his chest, a laugh bursting onto the scene. “I get it now. You’re Pennsylvania Dutch.”

“No. Why would you assume…?”

“Because you possess no knowledge of basic search engines or social networks.” With his arm draped across the back of the couch, his fingers run lazy trails up and down my metal arm. “Did you lose your arm during a crazy night over Rumspringa?”

“No.”

“Shame. I’d figure that’s why you were ousted from the community. And with a name like Bucky, I can only imagine what all you’ve done.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Right, Buck?”

Damn his flirtatious nature. My heart will beat the life out of itself. “So, will you help me?”

Colin scratches the divot over his upper lip with his thumbnail as he thinks. He reads over the whiteboard information. Mumbled curses lodge a complaint about not finishing the task at hand. And something about his father teaching him to take only one detective job at a time.

Before he can turn me down, I make an offer. “I’ll pay you. Free coffee and cannoli. Anytime I’m working at See You Latte or we could go to another shop if I’m off duty. I’d also pay for any other incidentals.”

“Well, Buck…” he says, staring at me, “…when you put it that way, I’m in. But, first things first.”

He leans forward and grabs a button covered black device from the couch. He points it to the black rectangle sitting on a small dresser. The rectangle comes to life, showing off images of men in red, white, and blue running onto a bright green field marked with numbers.

“Today we watch the Patriots kill Dallas. Tonight, you order us dinner from Anthony’s. Tomorrow, after you’re done at work, we start. Deal?”

He reclines into the sofa, arms behind his head and feet up on the table, legs crossing at his ankles. The bottom of the robe falls open, exposing his long lean thigh. I swear he’s flexing those tight muscles on purpose.

I divert my eyes to the rectangle, clear my throat, and say, “Absolutely.”


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Ending Note: Thank you for reading!

 

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