Chapter Text
Steve should have noticed something was wrong when the key to his suitcase didn’t work. He jiggled it, wiggled it, and even looked up a YouTube video for it, but the suitcase would not open. So, Steve being Steve, he simply shrugged and broke the lock off with his bare hands. Who really needed a lock on their suitcase anyway?
Well, that question was promptly answered. When Steve opened the suitcase he saw black. Lots of black. Two hard black firearm cases, an entire roll of sheathed tactical knives, and black clothes, from studded black leather to actual Kevlar. Clearly, this was not Steve’s suitcase. Also, whoever owned this suitcase definitely needed the lock on it, and was also highly suspicious. So, Steve being Steve, he snooped - in the name of justice!
He began unpacking the suitcase to see what else it hid. The body armor was sized for a large man, it might even fit Steve, so the owner of the suitcase was big. The leather jacket was neatly folded. Steve unfolded it to see it’s studded surface, cropped just below the waist for a rather scandalous fit, and tapered in at the sides and back to show off every curve. This piece clearly favored fashion over functionality. Steve sniffed it. He couldn’t help himself! It was musky with the scent of leather and sweat and some kind of heady cologne. Then there was a faint sweet scent around the collar, possibly hair product? Interesting. Steve was profiling this suspicious character, he justified to himself, as he took another, deeper sniff. It was nice. He was tempted to try it on but figured that was going too far.
There was more black clothes, from tee-shirts to skinny jeans to tactical pants, all a mix of fashionable and functional. And then there was the underwear, all neatly folded. A couple pairs of black boxer briefs were folded on top of neat little lacy bundles which Steve unfolded to reveal them as thongs and lacy panties, all designed for the male anatomy. Steve felt himself getting hot under the collar. He quickly, clumsily folded them back up and moved on to the weapons. There were more knives than Natasha carried on the average day, which was saying a lot, and the two gun cases did indeed hold guns. There were also a pair of black knuckledusters (illegal in New York!) and a heavy telescoping baton. He was shocked this suitcase even made it on the plane. Maybe the guy was government or military. Even then, this was excessive, and a lot too sexy. (What kind of military man wore a thong under his tack pants?!) Steve turned the fan on. It was getting hot.
Next there were books. Now this was interesting. There was some heavy, dark stuff like Nietzche and Dostoyevsky and then there were a few sci-fi paperbacks, and then there was The Hobbit. All of the books were well-worn and dog eared. Steve picked up The Hobbit and flicked through it, he remembered reading it when it came out. He opened a dog-eared page and saw an underlined passage. “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.” Steve gasped. He remembered the quote, with his perfect memory, but it hit him differently now, now that he had lost so much, and found so much. He flipped to another page “Where there’s life, there’s hope.” Steve smiled. “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” In the margins beside the underlined quote was scrawled “and sex.” Steve flushed, suddenly remembering who’s book this was. He shut it quickly and moved on to the rest of the suitcase. His investigation was not yet over!
There were a few music CDs that Steve didn’t recognize. The album covers looked rather gloomy, but he figured knowing what the music was would help him profile his perp.
“JARVIS,” Steve called out, “Can you play the album, er, ‘Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge’ by ‘My Chemical Romance’ please?” He was a bit dubious of the title. Steve was opposed to vengeance in theory, despite being a member of a group called The Avengers. The music started with a low, gravelly voice at a near whisper. The lyrics were ominous and morbid. Steve frowned, then the guitars came in and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. The man was nearly screaming now.
The music was horrible to listen to yet it struck a fire in him, lit that flame of low burning rage that ever simmered under his skin, kindled the grief and despair and loneliness that ate at him in the dead of night and brought it all to the surface. Steve was dazed. He didn’t know music could be like this. Though you could hardly call it music.
He left the album playing, feeling strangely energized by the roaring voice, the racing drums, and the raging guitars, as he explored more of the suitcase. There wasn’t much left, just a small black bag of toiletries. Steve unzipped it carefully and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Alongside an electric toothbrush and straight razor was an eyeliner pencil, a set of cock rings in various materials, and a slim vibrating ergonomic prostate dildo. Steve knew what it was because Tony had recently educated him on the subject of sex toys, by buying him a bunch of sex toys when Steve came out to the Avengers as bisexual. What sex toys had to do with being bisexual was beyond Steve, but his brain was now permanently imprinted with the knowledge of every imaginable type of sex toy for male anatomy. Thanks super soldier serum.
Steve found himself reaching for the toy without his permission, picked it up, and nearly threw it across the room when it immediately started buzzing intensely. Steves whole body heated up and he felt himself flush from head to toe. He dropped the vibrator back in the bag and it continued buzzing around even more intensely. Steve panicked and picked it back up, squeezing it all over to try and find the power button, and oh god this had been in Sexy Suitcase Guy’s ass, oh god, oh god!
And that’s when his doorbell rang.
My Chemical Romance was screaming out “I’m gonna set that mother fucker on fire!! Fire!!” and Steve had a handful of vibrating dildo and there was someone at his door and oh, he was also wearing his slutty shirt that he only wore at home because it was so scandalous and made him feel naughty. Steve kind of wanted to die right now. He crushed the dildo in his hand (sorry Sexy Suitcase Guy) and threw it across the room. He looked around for a change of shirt, but there was nothing nearby except for the stuff from the suitcase! He grabbed the leather jacket and threw it on over his scandalous shirt which was technically a workout tanktop but the sleeves were cut off on the sides all the way down to the waist so you could see everything, and the collar was wide and stretched out and it just screamed 21st century and felt very slutty to wear, which was why he only wore it at home.
Steve hurried to the door, the leather jacket was a little tight on him but at least it covered his racy bits. Damn it smelled good.
“Hello?” Steve was saying as he swung the door open, and then Steve’s brain just shut all the way down.
“Hello Steve,” said the sexiest man on Earth. He was wearing a mesh top (you could see his nipples, and they were pierced!!) under a leather jacket, and his face was angelic except for the rough dusting of dark stubble across his chin and the black liner rimming his excessively blue eyes. His hair was long and fell around his face in soft dark waves and Steve wasn’t actually sure if he was still breathing. “Are you having fun with my suitcase?” The man said, and oh, fuck, “I certainly had fun with yours.”
At that Steve glanced down and saw that the man did indeed have Steve’s suitcase, an exact match to the one splayed open on his living room floor. And the man had apparently opened it. Steve blanched in horror. That suitcase was currently full of all the sex toys Tony had thought to gift him for his “sexual awakening” and Steve being Steve, he couldn’t just throw them out (and also he was curious), so he’d packed them all to bring back to Brooklyn. And this guy, Sexy Suitcase Guy AKA the Sexiest Man on Earth had seen it all!!!
The man’s stunning kohl lined eyes flicked down Steve’s body and back up again in a slow once-over that had the hair rising on the back of Steve’s neck. Then, the man’s plush, pink, shiny lips (was he wearing lip gloss??) curled into a filthy smirk and his eyes crinkled just so and Steve could feel his overactive super soldier libido roaring under his skin and between his legs. Like a fool, Steve glanced down at the growing tent in his sweatpants, drawing obvious attention to his engorging problem, then looked up at SSG-AKA-SME in humiliation (and arousal).
Suitcase guy’s smirk grew somehow even dirtier as he licked his lips. “My name’s Bucky, I believe you have something of mine.”