Leverage vibes
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The Voltron Vigilantes are on their biggest job yet - stopping the Galra gang from releasing LoveBug; a dangerous drug that will surely kill thousands. With the release day - Valentine's day - just around the corner, do they have enough time to pull it off?
Meanwhile, Lance has grown ever fonder of Keith in the year since Voltron formed. One night after a particularly difficult heist, and too much to drink, they decide to get married in secret. For legal reasons and definitely not because of feelings.
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“But Professor Barnes is more fun,” Steve said, smiling wickedly, pressing the tip of one long finger to Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s brain flatlined at the contact, left him blinking down at Steve. Steve watched him for a bit, then his smile softened and he let his hand fall. “James, then. And you can explain what’s so fascinating about the painting.”
Bucky pulled himself together with an effort. “I think the artist who painted this was having some fun. Maybe he didn’t like the guy he was painting it for?” Steve looked at him sharply. Bucky didn’t quite know why, maybe he'd made some sort of art faux pas, but he pointed at the shadowy spot with the pigs. “Here. You can tell me if I’m imagining it.”
Steve leaned in, following the line of Bucky’s finger, one hand settling gracefully onto Bucky’s bicep for balance. His hand was warm, his long fingers strong and supple as they curled slightly, and Bucky swallowed hard and called himself nine kinds of idiot. He was a grown man, not some high school kid with a crush. Steve’s hand was on his arm, not anywhere interesting. This was stupid.
His suddenly racing heart seemed determined to ignore the message.
Bookmarked by alittlelillium
28 Jul 2023
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Art for Art's Sake By leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)
“But Professor Barnes is more fun,” Steve said, smiling wickedly, pressing the tip of one long finger to Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s brain flatlined at the contact, left him blinking down at Steve. Steve watched him for a bit, then his smile softened and he let his hand fall. “James, then. And you can explain what’s so fascinating about the painting.”
Bucky pulled himself together with an effort. “I think the artist who painted this was having some fun. Maybe he didn’t like the guy he was painting it for?” Steve looked at him sharply. Bucky didn’t quite know why, maybe he'd made some sort of art faux pas, but he pointed at the shadowy spot with the pigs. “Here. You can tell me if I’m imagining it.”
Steve leaned in, following the line of Bucky’s finger, one hand settling gracefully onto Bucky’s bicep for balance. His hand was warm, his long fingers strong and supple as they curled slightly, and Bucky swallowed hard and called himself nine kinds of idiot. He was a grown man, not some high school kid with a crush. Steve’s hand was on his arm, not anywhere interesting. This was stupid.
His suddenly racing heart seemed determined to ignore the message.