( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

[chatona]

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

Comments

[misdated]

[ It’s almost disturbing easy to forget that they’re on a mission. It shouldn’t be. He’s a professional, has been for longer than most people have been alive and has undergone the kind of rigorous training that most civilized countries would contend is illegal. At any other time, in any other arena, James Barnes would be so focused on the mission and its objectives that the rest of the world might as well cease to exist for all the attention he would be paying it.

The problem, such as it is, is that their cover isn’t really much of stretch. Which is, he knows, why they’d been picked for the mission. No one else works as well together as they do, save for him and Steve, and there’d been no way in hell the two of them were going to do this. That would’ve been asking to borrow trouble neither would have wanted in their lives.

Like this, for all that it’s work, it’s also kind of like a vacation. Huge house in a fancy gated community, nothing much to do all day but putter around, make nice with the neighbors, and pretend he’s writing the next great American novel while the love of his life brings home the big bucks. Bucky doesn’t know shit about writing novels and he’s hardly a sugar baby, but he doesn’t have to act like he stops paying attention to everything else the second Jake walks into the room.

At the moment he’s sprawled out by the pool in the middle of their ridiculously enormous lawn, wearing sunglasses and swimtrunks and not a damn thing else. The holographic imager in his bionic arm projects the appearance of a normal human-looking arm, convincing enough to fool any of the myriad neighbors he’s been forced to socialize with too much in the last few weeks. And since any of them could come parading back here without regard to their privacy, he hasn’t turned it off. Plus, he’s vain enough to admit that it’s nice to pretend, even if the only other person here who matters knows better, that he looks the way he used to.

Noise from the grill catches his attention and Bucky turns his head, peering over the top of his sunglasses at Jake’s back. Cookouts like this aren’t possible in DC. This is nice. Getting up, he walks silently across the patio on bare feet, ignoring the heat, and slips up behind him. Not the wisest decision, perhaps, but Jake’s a professional too. Bucky’s confident he won’t skewer either of them with the spatula even if he is startled. ]

Hey. [ He slides his arms around Jake’s waist, knowing the left still feels like metal even if it doesn’t look it. Temperature regulators prevent it from being too hot from being out in the sun all afternoon, but it’s still a little warmer than the other one. Going up on the tips of his toes, Bucky props his chin on Jake’s shoulder and peers over it toward dinner. ] How’s it coming, Grillmaster?

[component]

[ If he's honest, he'd say he had a lot of trepidations going into a mission like this. It's got nothing to do with being paired up with Bucky, and everything to do with the fact he doesn't want to play pretend over something so serious that could be in the scope of their relationship. It seems almost tawdry on one side and unfair on the other. But, that's a thought he keeps to himself, because there's no way in fucking hell he's going to put a little black raincloud over this mission. Undercover shit is fun (when it goes right... and he's hoping it goes right), and it's even more fun that he can share it with Bucky.

They're a good team in the field, and there's no one he'd rather work with. In fact, he usually doesn't do field work with anyone else and sticks to tech and comms where he's most knowledgeable and feels more in control of the situation. But, it's always hard to say no to Bucky; even more so when a good opportunity presents itself.

The story they have is a good one, the locale is even better. And maybe that's got a little to do with why he so readily went, even though he held reservations. It is like a vacation. Almost. This nouveau riche kind of lifestyle isn't so bad. It's not how either one of them were brought up, and where Jake could take it or leave it, he's kind of happy Bucky gets to luxuriate in the plush luxury. There's no one who deserves it more.

The only complaint he has is that Bucky's got to keep his arm covered up ninety percent of the time. It's disappointing. Perhaps stupidly so. Jake knows Bucky prefers it like this, and it's not as if he can blame him—the arm and the scars are a constant daily reminder of how his life turned out. But, without them, not only would Bucky not be here, but there'd be no proof of just how strong and amazing he truly is. But, again, Jake keeps that to himself, as well.

They've settled into suburban life fairly quickly and Jake would almost be surprised over that if it wasn't for the fact that it's literally the easiest thing in the world to share space with Bucky. Today they're grilling in their backyard and Jake's mind is still sort of boggling that this is his life. Even if it is fake, the memory is going to remain. And that's reality enough.

He hears Bucky's approach, so he's ready for him and pauses his dual wielding of the spatula and tongs. There's kebabs on the top rack, burgers and corn on the cob on the bottom. His stomach is so excited that it can barely stay in its place. (There's even potato salad chilling in the fridge along side some beer. It's great. Good Christ this is fucking great.) A bright grin steals across his lips when Bucky presses against him and Jake doesn't hesitate to lean back against him. He turns his head to stamp a kiss anywhere he can reach before turning back to the grill. ]

Pretty fuckin' good, [ he laughs ] lovebug. [ His terms of endearment still need a shitload of work. But he's trying. ] Should be ready soon. Hope you're hungry. [ He gestures with the tongs, snapping them together toward the table under the veranda. ] Wanna snag that for me?

[misdated]

[ Some couples on an assignment like this would have to fake the level of easy comfort Bucky shares with Jake. They would have to manufacture the happiness too, plaster phony smiles on their faces and go through the motions of what a contented afternoon together outside would look like to anyone happening to glance by on their way past the property.

A year ago, when he’d still been fighting off the remnants of Hydra’s programming, trying to figure out where the asset ended and this hazy ghost of James Barnes began, he never would have imagined himself capable of anything like this. Not of acting the part this flawlessly and certainly not actually feeling it to the point where acting has become unnecessary. But he does now. He’s happy in a way he hasn’t been for seventy years, in a way he’s often thought wouldn’t be possible to feel again. Sometimes it makes him feel a little like an overfilled balloon, so full that he’s stretched far too thin and if he gets any happier, he’s going to burst with it.

He can’t say that he’s terribly alarmed by the prospect.

The nickname makes him snort, which leads to unabashed laughter that he muffles against Jake’s shoulder, subtly tightening his grip on him for a moment while he leans against him and gives in to the hilarity of the moment. Lovebug. That’s a new one. He’s not going to let him forget that he used it. Ever.

Eventually, he has to straighten up. Jake needs the table, and as the only one of the two of them not currently tasked with keeping food from burning, Bucky knows he has to stop lollygagging around and get it. He presses a kiss to Jake’s shoulder, then another to the side of his neck as he slowly withdraws. ]

Sure thing, cupcake. [ Cupcake, he thinks, turning it over with a smirk. He might keep that one. ] I’m starving.

[ To illustrate the point, he swoops in and bites painlessly at his shoulder, just pressing his teeth against his skin hard enough to feel the pressure. It takes half a second, maybe a whole one. Then he really does step back, gives Jake a playful swat on the ass, and goes to retrieve the table.

It isn’t terribly large and he’s a muscular guy. Anyone looking at him wouldn’t think anything amiss by the way he handles it. Because he uses two hands when he carts the thing over, like a normal guy, instead of one-handing it the way he normally would. He sets it down near the grill and steps back out the way, though he doesn’t really go very far. ]

What say after we eat, you and me go skinny dipping in the pool?

[component]

[ If anyone had ever told Jake that one day he'd leave Black Ops and shift over to a "secret" branch of the government (and, mind, this is after he and his team were fucked over by the government) to take down other secret sects—sects responsible (in part) to Bucky's physical situation—all while navigating through the trials of being in a serious, loving, committed relationship with a war hero and former assassin, he would've told them to jump right up their ass. Then, after living it, Jake knows he wouldn't trade any of this for anything in the world.

A fact that Bucky keeps proving to him every day. Especially in moments like these when the happiness isn't forced and Bucky seems content with life. That Jake can be a part of it means more than he can say.

He makes a feigned weak noise as he's bitten, like some little cub relenting to the bigger lion, but laughs soon after because of that light smack. Oh, he'll get him back for that. Rest assured. ]

Hey, hey, hey. [ When Bucky returns with the table, Jake shifts a few plates and a longer platter on top that had been resting by the side of the grill, then moves closer to Bucky. One hand curls around his side and he rests his hand against Bucky's ass and gives it a hard squeeze as he tips his head down to press a kiss against his shoulder. ] I'm not on the dinner menu. [ He rubs his hand lightly over where he just squeezed and steals a quick kiss. ] Dessert, well, that's another story.

[ He pulls away then, starting to pull things off the grill and plate them. Everything smells amazing, if he does say so himself—and he would—and his stomach gives an excited rumble at eating everything. It doesn't take long before the last piece of delicious grill-charred animal carcass is off and plated and he turns the gas off on the grill and gives Bucky a heated look. ]

Looking to scandalize the neighbors already with my pasty white ass? Like the moon's come out early.

[misdated]

[ During moments like these, Bucky thinks that it’s a wonder that they manage to actually get anything done. The food smells delicious and he is hungry, but with Jake’s hands on him and his lips at his shoulder, all he wants to do is turn toward him, get his arms around him, and push him back toward the table. Get him pinned against something hard and unyielding so that he can’t scramble away and just… The urge is conflicting: one part of Bucky wants to devour him, lose himself in Jake’s body until he can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins, and the other part of him wants to curl around him and just be there with him, soaking up the simple pleasure of being alive, together, without any interruption or demand from the world.

It’s becoming a familiar problem. He thought the impulse would have diminished over time, as he got used to having Jake in his life, but as it’s turning out, it’s been getting stronger, more prevalent. Despite quite a bit of self-reflection during the night, when he should be sleeping and instead is wide awake to keep the nightmares at bay, he is no closer to finding an explanation for the bizarre behavior than he had been at the start.

Now isn’t the time to sort it out. Bucky just hums into the kiss, lips curving into a smile as Jake pulls away. ]

You should be on the menu. [ It’s a low murmur, honest and an utterly shameless verbalization of his desires. ] Nothing tastes as good as you.

[ He would offer to help Jake get the food ready, but he seems to have it in hand and Bucky thinks he’d probably end up being more of a hindrance at this juncture. So he stays out of the way, lingering at Jake’s side, though not so close that it impacts his freedom of movement.

For a moment, he meets the look Jake gives him, then his gaze drops to the ass in question. Tragically, it’s concealed by what Jake’s wearing, but Bucky can’t help the fond, somewhat longing stare—partially joking—that he gives it anyway. ]

It’s not any pastier than mine. [ Lifting his eyes back to Jake’s, he raises his eyebrows too. ] I don’t think it’s seen the sun in decades. Besides. [ The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk. ] Neighbors gotta get used to us sooner or later, right?