— Lessons Learned in Life (via onlinecounsellingcollege)
Anonymous said: stevebucky, bodyswap?
"What the hell,” Bucky says, delighted. ”I knew you didn’t wear underwear under this thing!”
Steve scowls, spits a strand of hair out of his mouth. “You need a damn hair cut,” he says.
Sam glances at Natasha, gun still trained on the evil scientist holding a smoldering cannon and ruining the menacing effect by looking completely stunned.
"Body swap?" he asks warily.
Natasha sighs and aims a flying kick at the evil scientist’s head.
“Body swap,” she confirms.
"Look, all I’m saying is you can use your powers for a little evil,” Bucky argues, propping his feet on Sam’s dining table.
Sam tries not to focus on how weird it is to see Steve’s body tipping backward in a chair, eating a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with his hands.
Steve ignores Bucky in favor of plaiting his hair back.
Sam also tries not to focus on how weird it is to see Bucky’s face visibly contemplating the finer points of fishtail over French.
"Wouldn’t going rogue kinda ruin his cred as a superhero?" Sam asks, stealing a handful of cereal. Bucky slaps his wrist, which is—a lot less painful than it usually is, considering his hand’s not metal this time.
"I’m not talking about stealing or taking over the world or anything," Bucky says. "But if I was Captain America, I’d—”
His eyes light up. Steve stops braiding, eyes narrowing.
"Bucky," he begins, warning evident in his tone.
"See you losers later!" Bucky crows, then with a quick feint left and a dash right, he’s evading Steve’s grasping hands and bursting through the back door.
Literally bursting through. The door gives a mournful creak before it falls off its hinges, slamming to the ground with a crash.
Sam thinks wistfully of life before making friends with two giants who have no concept for 21st century property damage.
So. The situation is handled now, buuuuut you MIGHT get a couple messages about Captain America streaking on the National Mall. Just heads up. FYI. Natasha texts.
When Steve watches the footage on TV later, he’s got a weirdly pleased expression on his face.
"Is that really what I look like from the back?" he asks.
Sam figures all the Captain Booty jokes have finally clicked.
"Okay, but how are you going to get James back?" Natasha asks, filing her pinkie nail into a sharp point.
Bucky snorts. “He’s not,” he says idly, taking a selfie with the phone he stole from Tony Stark last time they were in New York. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Sam has the sneaking suspicion that Bucky’s just sending all the pictures to his own damn self for later perusal.
Steve frowns. “It would be a pretty big violation, using his body to do something he didn’t want. Especially after all he’s been through.”
Bucky’s face goes soft. And since it’s actually Steve’s face, it genuinely looks soft, not just darkly handsome and sort of wounded and a little murder-y.
"That’s nice, Steve, thanks—" he says, and that’s when all their phones chime with a text message picture of giant pectorals with little Captain America shields drawn around the nipples.
Natasha grins. “I like the little stars,” she says.
Steve comes in the next day wearing head to toe Yankees gear.
The newspaper headline that day reads: Captain America nearly brains unsuspecting Yankees fan. Does Cap hate baseball?!
They end up switching back into their bodies at the precise moment when Steve is about to punch a robot full force with his metal arm and Bucky’s doing some complicated parkour off a building about twenty stories up.
Needless to say, it could go better.