I haven't written anything based in fantasy in a long while and I miss that feeling of whimsy and brightness, so this is to jump-start that excitement in myself again :) 

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Bucky was used to being called "fairy". Sure, those who used it meant it as an insult against his sexuality, but he found it amusing in the literal sense, because he actually was. 

He was just really good at hiding it. 

Mythical creatures had always existed, and had never died out -- for centuries they learned to blend in, appear human, and Bucky Barnes lived that same life. However, he did enjoy pushing the boundaries to see how much he could get away with. People were incredibly easy to fool, he'd found, unless they were incredibly perceptive. All he dared were essentially party tricks; baffling people by hovering just barely above the floor, playing with their emotions if possible. 

When he was younger, only a few hundred years old, manipulating people to get what he wanted came surprisingly easy -- but the more time he spent among people, the less he wished to manipulate them; in some cases it simply didn't seem fair. 

In other cases it was the only option. 

"Hey, you're gonna wanna back off," Bucky says as he steps up to the burly man cornering one of the women at the bar, looking obviously uncomfortable. The man turns slowly, eyes him up and down. 

"Got a problem, man?"

"You will if you don't back the hell off." Bucky eyes him calmly, and something in his demeanor switches. The girl eyes them uncertainly, spots her friends and slips away to rejoin them, whispering anxiously to them. Bucky remains still as the man towers over him, looking him over with a frown. 

Just as it feels as if something will escalate, the creep backs off and blinks uncertainly at him, sensing something... not right. Without another word, he leaves, and Bucky resumes his place leaning against the wall, folding his arms. 

He listens to the amicable chatter surrounding him, mixed with the thumping of the music, and is almost calm -- when an argument breaks out, and, rolling his eyes, Bucky sighs and pushes off of the wall. Weaving his way through the crowds of dancing people, he focuses on the argument that turns into a shouting match, and as soon as he steps closer a fight explodes as one of the men punches the other in the jaw. 

The room erupts into chaos as people struggle to stay out of the way, some cheer the men on, some trying to join in. Bucky watches uncertainly, eyes wide as he tries to find a way to fix it. Among all the chaos he sees one man fighting with surprising ease, looking somewhat like a vengeful warrior as he brawls with the others. 

"Hey, hey! Break it up!" The manager shoves his way through the crowd, red-faced as he pushes the two apart. "You two, out!" 

"This a**hole was putting something into her drink, that is unacceptable," the fighting blond bites, glowering at the other, who throws himself at him again and is held back by someone else. 

"Get out," the manager seethes. "Both of ya. If I ever see you here again I'm callin' the cops, understand?" One of the brawlers pushes away, drops a few choice curses, and leaves, and the blond glares after him. "And you," the boss hisses. "Cut it out with the goddamn hero routine. You can't do s*** about it, because there's bad stuff all over the world. Now get. Out."

Bucky stares after the blond in awe as he leaves, wiping blood from his lip and muttering under his breath. As the manager tries to calm everyone, Bucky leaves shortly after the blond does. 

Stepping into the brisk winter night, he blows out a breath and scans the quiet, damp streets, and spots him leaning against the side of the building, absently nursing a cigarette. 

Something urges Bucky to approach him, and while his brain yells at him to "stop you idiot you are going to get punched very hard in the face", he continues moving until he's right in front of him and, for once in his life, unsure of what to say. 

"Can I help you with something?" 

His voice is lower than Bucky would've thought, and he feels himself getting strangely self-conscious and very aware of how he's standing, what his hands are doing -- awkward, out of place. He decides he doesn't like that feeling; not one bit.

"Um," Bucky says, wisely. "I just -- I wanted to say that was cool, what you did. I mean, not smart or anything, but, um -- "

He regards him quietly, and Bucky shuts up and looks away, feeling his face heating up. "I -- sorry, I -- "

"Thanks," the man replies, finally relaxing his stance and tilting his head. "What's your name?"

"People call me Bucky."

He studies him quietly and nods, and a brief smile crosses his face. "Rogers." He drops his untouched cigarette and looks off, down the street. "I saw you with that idiot earlier. Guess we have something in common."

Bucky doesn't expect his heart to skip a beat, didn't expect he would be looking at this guy the way he feels that he is. "I -- yeah, I guess so." 

"You okay? Too warm in there, right?"

Bucky looks at him, eyes wide. "What?"

Rogers smiles a little and gestures to his face. "Cheeks are red."

His face burns even more quickly and he laughs awkwardly, pushing his hands into his pockets. "No, yeah. Yeah."

"Well, don't let me interrupt." Rogers brushes himself off and checks the horizon again. "I should get going." He pauses, and looks at him once more. "Hope to see you around, Bucky. Have a good night." 

Bucky nods, looking at the ground. "Yeah, see you later," he responds a second too late as Rogers starts walking down the street, and soon disappears into the night. 

Bucky finds himself staring after him, and he sighs softly, a strange feeling in his stomach. 

////

"What-- no. Oh, no," Bucky groans as he drops his head into his hands. Walrus, his lizard -- long story -- crawls onto his lap and Bucky huffs as he lifts him up. "So apparently it's called a crush, buddy. And I hate it."

Walrus licks his eye and says nothing, for he is a lizard. 

"Good, so you agree. Never see him again and get some friends who actually talk." He runs his free hand over his face. "Great."

////

"He's so cute," Steve huffs as he pouts on Natalia's couch, his muscular and intimidating look softened slightly by the massive blanket Nat had thrown over him and the cat on his lap. 

"Okay but what are you supposed to do, Rogers? Not fall in love with a human."

"I never said love," he protests, but she holds up a hand to stop him as she slides to sit next to him. 

"I just listened to you talk about his eyes for, like, twenty minutes." She frowns at him. "It's not like you to get hung up on a boy."

"He's... different, Nat." 

"Oh my God, you sound like such a -- "

"Hey, if you say a woman, women are strong and trying to insult me by calling me a woman diminishes what women go through -- "

Nat closes her eyes and interrupts him again. "I was going to say lovesick puppy."

"Somehow I find that worse." He pets the sleeping kitty thoughtfully as she rolls over with a quiet bwerr sound. "I... wanna see him again, Nat. I promise I'll be safe," he says softly, so as not to wake the kitty. 

She hesitates, then finally nods as she sighs wearily. "Fine."

////

Probably should've gotten his number, Bucky thinks as he absently drifts from bar to bar, hoping to stumble across him again. 

He hears a commotion in an alleyway, and he knew he didn't know Rogers yet -- but something tells him to check, just in case; something instinctual at this point. So, he does -- and finds Rogers attempting to brawl with five other people. Bucky throws himself into the chaotic situation to help, and soon everything is a frenzy of cursing, kicks and punches, blood and bruises. When the dust settles, Bucky pulls Rogers to his feet as the latter shakes out his scraped fist.

"Buck?" 

"The hell happened here?" Bucky breathes as he pulls him away from the men, struggling to get up again, angrier than before -- they'd kicked the hornets' nest and apparently made everything worse. 

"I don't like bullies," Rogers spits, and Bucky groans in exasperation.

"We need to get out of here."

"But -- "

"Hey," Bucky interrupts, and he looks at him, willing him to trust him -- staying wouldn't end well. Steve blinks, and allows himself to be swayed as Bucky tugs him back into the street. 

////

"One thing I've picked up about you, Rogers," he pants as they stop running, resting against a building, "you're stubborn."

"I beg to differ," he replies, taking a breath and closing his eyes. Bucky studies him for a second, wincing as he takes in his injuries. 

"Um -- this might seem a weird question since we kind of just met, uh... would you like to come over to my place?" After seeing his expression he hastily continues, saying, "I offer because... well, you're not looking so good. You look really hurt... "

Steve raises his eyebrows but doesn't make a move to check for himself. "Okay," he finds himself saying. 

////

"This is it. I'll get some supplies." Bucky moves further into his tiny, spotlessly clean apartment, and Steve waits outside uncertainly. Bucky pokes his head around the corner when he realizes Steve isn't with him. "You can come in, you know."

"Oh -- thank you." He takes in the space and smiles a little, spotting multiple plants thriving with life, an unfinished painting next to the window, a vivarium in a well-lit area. 

"Jesus, how are you bleeding so much?" Bucky mutters as he beckons him into the bathroom, and Steve shrugs absently, eyes averted as Bucky helps fix him up. "So do you go out and pick fights, or conveniently find yourself in fights?"

"I don't like bullies and I like to help people," he answers, looking up at him. "It's not fair if I see injustice and do nothing."

"I guess I can understand that." He falls silent again, lifting his chin as he dabs blood off of his face. Steve practically melts, staring up at him -- as Nat would say, his lovesick puppy look, and Bucky tries hard not to notice. "So is that your shtick, to impress the ladies?"

"Not exactly my intended audience."

Bucky nods in understanding as he meets his eyes. "Right." After a moment Bucky looks away, breathing in slowly and letting it out. "Okay, I think I got the worst of it."

Steve looks in the mirror and nods absently. "Um, thank you." He hesitates a second and feels the urge to tell him, but Natalia's voice echoes in his head. 

He decides to let it sit for a second, changing his mind. 

He'd tell him later. 

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This is getting too long so I'll be updating a part two -- on time! I hope y'all enjoyed :)