Stucky One-Shots (Angst, Fluff, Smut)

Neurotic to the bone

this is an au that i want to take further and develop a story from it, so let me know if that's something you'd be interested in. i'm actually super hyped for this idea. this chapter's not really a smut or fluff, just a taste of stucky :)))))

words: 3.4k

I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it

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Steve stands in the corner of his apartment and watches his friends settle in one by one. Once he has their attention, he tosses them each a beer. The quiet room fills with the sweet sound of cans opening. He brings the drink to his mouth, grateful for the buzz to come. He's been on edge the entire week, and the "emergency meeting" that was called has definitely not helped him relax. He speaks up, "And you called us to my place because...?"

"We have a gig," Sam explains, throwing himself into the open armchair and takes a sip before continuing, "And it's a pretty goddamn important one, kids, so listen up."

"Yes, sir," Natasha mocks, rolling her eyes as she fiddles with the tuning keys on her bass guitar from the couch. She expertly dodges a pencil lobbed at her head and gives Sam a sarcastic smile. "Honey, if you throw another fucking pencil at me, I just might have to kick your ass."

Sam scoffs in fake disbelief, "The redhead's feisty today.... Isn't she, Lang?"

Scott just shrugs, not particularly interested in the banter.

Natasha doesn't dignify Sam with a sassy remark, shaking her head as she says, "Would you just get on with it already? Why is this gig so important?"

"Yeah, dude, let's get this 'emergency meeting' going. I have better things to do than entertain three nut jobs in my living room," Steve interjects.

"Shut up, Shortstack! I'm getting there," he retaliates. Steve glares at his bandmate, cursing him silently for the nickname. Sighing, Sam uncrosses his legs and leans forward. His eyes drag across the room, scanning over the others, likely for dramatic effect. "I managed to snag us a gig at The Garage on the 13th. I know we've played there before, but it's not the venue that's important: it's the audience. Stark and Banner are going to be there, and they're scoping out a new band to sign. I'm thinking we can catch their attention."

"Wait wait wait." Nat focuses on Sam, scowling. "You're telling me that the biggest label company in the state of New York is looking for new recruits? And that the two founders of said company are going to be at the show we're playing in?" He nods. "And you're telling us this only two weeks ahead of time? And without consulting us first?"

"Uhhh.... Yeah."

"Sam!" the three band members shout in unison, clearly exasperated.

"Hey! I would have brought it up earlier, but I just found out! I have a buddy who works at the venue, and he just told me that he managed to squeeze us in since one of the other performers decided to ride his bike one night, and he got hit by a fucking car. Cut me some slack!" Sam puts up his hands in defense. "And I would have asked if you were down if the answer wasn't needed immediately. It was either I put us down or we lose the opportunity!"

"Damn, I hope that guy's okay." Scott says, brows furrowing together.

"Me too, but do you know what this means for us? Guys, we have a shot at getting signed and producing a motherfucking album!"

"True, but that also means we need to start working our asses off to do that," Steve points out, chewing on his bottom lip. Teeth catching on his lip ring, he winces slightly.