frank catches you bringing your laundry upstairs and you admit that you have a date.. plans change, and you end up having a little date night (if you can call it that) with frank himself!
notes; hiiii I’m sorry this took so long!! I’m gonna try and be more consistent with the 2 week turnaround time but meanwhile take a little tiny taste of frank getting jelly (I promise it will get worse from here) and a cute little couch potato date, WHEN HARRY MET SALLY LOVERS RISE
word count; 3.6k
part 5 of just across the hall
prev | next
Weather’s just getting colder and colder. You find some relief in how lugging a laundry basket up three flights of stairs (two to go!) warms your body up. You blow the frigid air out your cheeks, feeling like your legs might betray you by the time you get to your floor.
Even despite your exhaustion— which, FYI, is not just from exercise, you actually have been running errands on your precious Saturday off— you feel absolutely awake. Because you’re in a good mood, well.. yes and no.
Yes, because your good friend set you up with a guy who, from the pictures, isn’t too ugly. No, because that means abandoning the pipe dream of going on a date with Frank. It means throwing in the towel, not being able to pretend anymore.
Maybe you should cancel. But that’s throwing in the towel twice as bad, and you’re nothing if not afraid of mistepping. Give it a try, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt.
Speaking of things that hurt, you almost just tripped up the stairs, stomping awkwardly on your ankle and huffing. It’s a good thing nobody was in the stairwell to see that. You lug the stupid laundry basket a few steps more before a familiar, gravelly voice ricochets off the plaster walls, "Need help with that?”
You lift your face, meeting Frank’s dark brown eyes peering down at you, across the railing gap and from a few steps above the landing you haven’t even made it to yet. He rounds the corner and meets you where you stand. “I’m okay!”
“Mhm.” Frank’s brows pinch as he smiles at you, doubtful. He reaches for the basket but doesn’t take it until you sigh in defeat. You fall into a familiar step, him naturally slowing his pace to match yours. “How was work?”
“So-so. Charles was bugging me about setting him up with Marcy.” Frank squints at the laundry for a moment, nodding and making a comprehending sound.
“And Marcy is the one..”
“Who just got out of a three year relationship. The one I met from that pottery class.”
“Right.” It’s almost endearing how hard he tries to keep up with people he’s never met. When you glance up at him, he’s not straining one bit to carry the basket you were struggling with. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t weirdly attracted by it. “..Doin’ anything tonight?”
You hesitate. Do you really want to tell him? Your fingers find the clasp of your necklace, readjusting it to the back of your neck. Frank’s eyes follow the movement, though you don’t notice. “I, uh.. I actually..”
Frank’s a patient man if there ever was one. Why not just get it out? He probably wouldn’t care. It’s a normal thing. Normal people go on dates, and not with men that have so many layers it’s hard to tell how deep their core is. “I actually have a date tonight,” you smile, feeling a bit shy.
He’s silent, but he lifts his bearded face from the stairs. You laugh nervously to fill the air as you nod your head. “Yeah, uh. Going for drinks.”
“Drinks.” Frank repeats in a mutter, nodding a little and turning his cheek to glance away.
“Imagine that?” You laugh again. He grunts, lifting his brows and nodding again, but he doesn’t seem to find it all that funny. When four feet land on the last platform, you open the door into your shared hall and he huffs indignantly— jams a boot at the corner of the metal door and juts his bearded chin for you to go first. Old-fashioned. His eyes stay on the floor, though.
“What about you? What’re you up to?”
“Me? Nothin’.” Frank scoffs, curling his lip a little and suddenly slowing as if he just got back into his head and remembered your legs were shorter.
A smile creases your features. “Nothing? Just gonna sit at home and watch some Gilmore girls?” That works another huff out of his lips, which you have to remind yourself to look up from.
“Sure.” You get the feeling he doesn’t have a clue what you’re talking about and it makes your smile become toothy. “You uh, you have fun.” Frank manages eventually, watching you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket and unlock your apartment. For a foolish moment, you were hoping he’d come inside and plunk down the basket for you— maybe you’re reading into the twinkle in his near-black eyes, but he almost looks like he wants to follow you in too.
He doesn’t. Hands off the basket to you, doesn’t smile but nods sternly. You weren’t sure why you felt like something was missing until after the door shuts after you.
With a disgruntled huff you set the basket on your bed. You forgot how heavy it was, the weight had almost buckled your knees (and Frank had grunted a surprised, “Ope-“ with hands jumping to ghost your forearms— needless to say you rushed into the apartment.)
As you’re mulling it over, why something about your neighbor had been… off, a flash of baby pink catches your eye. God damnit. You lift a pair of panties, complete with a little embroidered snoopy at the center of the hem, from over the edge of the laundry basket. How long has that been right there? And— fuck, Frank was carrying the basket, there’s no way he missed it.
You wanna crawl into a hole and die, but instead blow the air out your cheeks. The universe has a cruel sense of humor, you think.
But at least the embarrassment keeps your mind too busy to realize that what was wrong, what was missing, was that Frank hadn’t smiled once since you mentioned that date. Nor do you wonder why you miss that gruff man’s almost-smile.
—
See, when you have plans, and too much time, you tend to start getting ready way sooner than you should. So the text from your would-be date finds you mid-mascara pull on your lashes.
You stare at the little white words stark against your lock screen,
I’m so sorry, something came up. can we rain check?
Y’know what? You feel kinda relieved. With the prospect of a cozy movie night in, you can’t help but grin at yourself in the mirror.
You keep the makeup on— it wasn’t much, not glam by any means, but enough that you felt prettier than normal while sitting on your couch in your favorite pajama set. Absentmindedly you put on a movie you’ve watched twenty times while filling out a familiar Grubhub order on your phone.
You try not to let it be a fallback. So what, you didn’t go through with this one date. That doesn’t have to mean you’re giving up on dating completely, right? And it definitely doesn’t mean it’s a sign from the universe that, yes, you should abandon all other men, and yes, you should throw yourself at your neighbor.
Absolutely not, stupid.
You’re curling up under your very favorite blanket— thick, freshly cleaned and soft sherpa against the material of your pjs but a cute brown plaid pattern on top— and watching Harry stare at Sally from over the top of a self care book on your TV. Maybe you know it word for word, and maybe that’s what makes it such a comforting movie.
Just about when you begin to wonder why your phone isn’t sending you any notifications that your food’s waiting for you in the lobby, knuckles rap on your door. Since when do delivery men come all the way up the stairs?
You don’t check the peephole before you unhook the lock stupidly, throwing the door open, but it’s not a stranger. Maybe Frank is getting you too comfortable with opening doors to big, quiet men dressed all in black. Quiet, for sure, he lifts a takeout bag in one big fist, letting a tentative smile crease his face at your reflecting grin. “Where’s my tip at, lady?”
You laugh, taking the bag from him. “Sorry, I can barely afford the food.” Frank’s eyes dart over you, less in that mechanical, check-all-valves-and-levers way, and with something comfortable softening the corners of his face.
“You didn’t go?” He cocks an eyebrow down at you, shifting his weight and glancing away in that tick of his. It goes without saying that he’s asking about your date. You shrug, turning to put the food on your kitchen island. When you look back, he’s still standing there shyly like a dog waiting for a whistle, making the door look small when filled by his huge frame. You hope he doesn’t think your smile is mocking when you wave him in.
“Psh, yeah. He bailed.”
Frank’s brows shoot upward, an alarmed and almost comically offended look opening up his hard face. He curls his lip, “He stood you up?”
“No, I mean— I wouldn’t say that,” you huff. He doesn’t look convinced, sauntering to the other corner of the countertop bracing his hands on the fake marble behind him. “No, I didn’t even leave my place when he called it off. ‘Cause, when you say it like that, then it sounds like I was sitting alone at a candlelit table, and like— like a waitress kept coming over, and she’s like, ‘are you ready to order?’ but she totally knows that I’m pathetic and just gonna leave because who—“
You stop as Frank drags a heavy paw down his face, eventually covering his rough, huffed laugh with a fist, shaking his head in disbelief. “You got an imagination, woman.”
You shrug, turning back to the plastic bag of Chinese takeout boxes. “It’s a gift.” Feeling brave, or maybe feeling too comfortable, you cock a brow at him. “So what did you do to my delivery guy?”
Frank shakes his head again. “Just caught some kid in the lobby, figured I’d bring it on my way up.” He doesn’t explain any further, and you wonder how he even had the feeling it might be your order. But it got to you in one piece, and you’re grateful for that. You nod.
“Uhm, y’know what.. I was just planning on having a movie night. If you wanna join.” There’s only a subtle change in his expression, you backtrack like instinct. “Just since you’re already here, y’know. Could be fun, watching me cry over When Harry Met Sally. I’ll even let you have some rice.” He laughs at that, low and every bit real.
“Reboundin’?” Frank shakes his head and you laugh in semi-horror, but he’s already stepping to the cabinet you keep your plates in and taking out two. You’re grateful he doesn’t make you ask twice.
“Yeah, sure. Gotta get keep my head in the game,” you joke, but honestly? Not the worst date night.
–
Frank waved you off before you got to an even portion split, insisting he wasn’t crazy about Chinese food. But it’s pretty obvious how fast he scarfs his plate down between huffing and puffing about the movie– it’s growing on him. You strategically leave one of the spare boxes you planned to save for lunch tomorrow unopened on the counter, smiling to yourself when he eventually creeps his way to seconds and grunts, “I don’t get it. How long does it take for ‘em to get t’gether?”
There’s another thing thats growing on him– rom-coms. Whether he wrinkles his nose or furrows his brows doubtfully at a corny line of dialogue or not, his eyes are glued to your TV. “Well.. Kind of like, the whole movie.”
“Ch-rist.” Frank shakes his head, settling back down on the couch beside you, a safe distance away. His black carhartt jacket’s thrown over one of the stools at your kitchen island, leaving him in a black t that just slightly hugs his chest and arms— you try, really do try, to be respectful. He does make it kinda hard to, his lip curling as he huffs, “What’re they doin’ the whole two hours, just fuckin’ ‘round?”
“Two hours, yeah, but it’s like, twelve years.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, “Shut up and watch it! It’s about how they get there.” His lips move indistinctly for a moment, he raises his brows and grins at his fork.
“...Y’know whats a good movie? The fugitive. That’s a movie.” You laugh, actually laugh, maybe the sound startles him because he huffs something that doesn’t sound too dissimilar. When you look at him, his smile is toothy. You feel a little lucky to get that.
But more than admire, you gotta poke at him. “The Fugitive, as in.. Outhouse, backhouse, doghouse?” Frank nods, still smiling with that confused look in his eyes like he’s weirdly influenced by your laughter but still doesn’t get whats funny. “That movie is like, two hours of straight anxiety!”
“Yeah, well.”
You, biting a peeling cuticle around your thumb, look back to the TV. New York looks the same outside your window as it does while Harry and Sally walk through the park. It’s the kind of weather that gives you this sudden need for closeness, jolts you awake and makes you realize whatever loneliness summer had been ebbing for the past three months. You let your eyes wander to Frank, who is absorbed in the movie. Hopefully, this weird stirring in your chest isn’t just that autumnal itch. You get the feeling it isn’t.
Nevertheless. You keep your cards tucked to your chest, and so does he.
You don’t realize that a good ten minutes have passed in silence (is it silent if there’s a movie playing, and your mouths are full?) until Frank grumbles from his chest, almost cautiously, “.. You sure you ain’t bummed ‘bout that date.”
Not so much a question, something in his voice is closed, like he doesn’t want to grant your answer any room for change. You shrug. “I’m pretty sure.” He eyes you, dark almond eyes shining tentative and silent doubt, reflecting the warm incandescent from the floor lamp beside the couch. “I mean.. I dunno. I just don’t.. Have the energy to go through all the motions, I guess.”
“Motions.” Frank repeats, eyes flickering away and back as he squints. You’re starting to see him as just a cycle of the same familiar twitches.
Movie’s long forgotten, your food, too (not Frank’s, he definitely likes the takeout.) “Y’know, the motions. ‘What d’you do?’, ‘where you from?’, ‘are you serious?’” He makes a humming sound like he understands, but something on his face gives him away comically obviously.
You break into a smile without meaning it (stupid, stupid puppy dog eyes) and he concedes, “M’sorry, I uh. Haven’t had a first date in more than a decade.” Is it rude to laugh a little? Probably, but you can’t help it. He grins, though. Frank shrugs his broad shoulders and screws up his lips. “Not t’sound, uh, pathetic.”
“No, no, that sounds better than dating apps and getting set up by friends.” You sigh, laying the crown of your head back against the couch cushion. Your eyes land back on the movie, in your peripheral Frank rubs a paw over his beard. “It’s just forced, y’know?”
He grunts in understanding, but says nothing. Ever the listener.
“And people say to go out, make yourself approachable, I guess. And I do, to all the places in the book. I’ve never been the type that people approach, that’s all.” You purposefully don’t look over at Frank, feeling his eyes back on you. “My brother was, actually. I remember in highschool, people couldn’t believe we were even related. He was just..” Your hands turn into claws, finegrs curling in emphasis, “..Likeable. He had this magnetism, I guess. Not just girl-wise. No matter where he went, he made friends right away. Like that.” Another quiet, low hum from Frank. You almost wish he’d shut you up, it’d be easier than finding the words to explain the memories of your brother.
What’s weird is, you know you don’t have to say anything at all. You could shut yourself up. He wouldn’t pry, he probably couldn’t care less about Charlie. But something stupid makes you want to just spill your guts to him. Maybe it’s because he really does just sit, listen, watch. He gives you the time to find the words. Frank’s steady patience is somehow annoying and relieving at the same time. It’s open space that he just waits on you to fill. So, you do.
“I guess I’ve always been the sibling that you needed to sit awhile with to like. And, y’know, it’s okay, not everyone wants to stop moving long enough to. Does that make sense?”
Frank nods, slow, his dark brows tight and eyes narrowed at you. Maybe it’s just concentration in his eyes. That conclusion is simpler than facing whatever else is in his stare. “Yeah,” he grunts, hardly mouthing the word and glancing away.
Silence falls as he shakes his head, setting his plate on your coffee table, tucking his arm behind his neck as he slouches against the couch cushion. His legs fall further apart, and so what if you settle further into your pillows, too? He sighs, heavy, like one of those pit bulls after a day of doing nothing but laying in the sunny part of the house, and you sigh back as a reply.
“I don’t think you’re hard to like.” Frank grunts, suddenly. As if mustering the balls to disagree with you. You take your eyes off the tv.
“No?”
“No.” That’s all he gives you. It’s almost laughable. But the weight of it, hiding in the Trojan horse of simple line delivery, sits in your chest and you can’t bring yourself to find it one bit funny. You nod.
“Niether are you.”
Frank looks at you, his brows drawing for an instant. But he nods right back, lips a little open, shifting his head in the cradle of his arm (which, bad timing, but his muscle is popping out absolutely perfectly like this?)
“I still can’t fuckin’ believe this asshole.” Frank grumbles after a long, strangely comfortable silence, dragging a large hand down his face. You huff a bitter laugh. “M’ serious. I mean, who— who does this guy think he is, huh? Gimme a break.” The New York in him is showing, he shrugs his shoulders up and scowls as he talks, words quickened with frustration.
You shrug, smiling a little at how dramatic he was. “Something just came up, it’s no biggie.”
His lips tip upwards an instant as he shakes his head before he remembers it’s more upsetting than funny to him. Then he scoffs. “Asshole. Look at’cha, I mean halfway ready, and then he bails? No man does that, tell ya that fuckin’ much.”
There’s something unspoken, there. He was a man. He wouldn’t do that to you. And he doesn’t hint, doesn’t flirt, doesn’t define the shape of that vague thing because to him, this isn’t cute or frilly. To him, this is dangerously precious, as is. This, whatever it is, is a brick precariously balanced on a telephone wire and he knows, deep down, that he’s the kind to blow too hard and knock it over. He’s lucky you let him in your door, wolf he is. So he doesn’t say, you look beautiful. He doesn’t say that, no, if it were him, he would not stand you up, not if there was a gun to his head.
No, Frank doesn’t say a word. He does what he does best. He stays quiet.
You smile appreciatively at his words, nodding and letting your eyes fall to your lap. By the end of the movie, you’re half asleep (if you were to ask Frank, he’d say more than half, three-quarters asleep, he watched your eyelashes fan over your cheeks and thinks he caught a little bit of a snore) and you somehow wrestle him into taking some of the takeout back to his.
He makes it to the door, even gets his calloused fingers around the handle, but he turns, suddenly. Takeout in hand, this almost shy look on his bearded and normally-stony face, he’s huge in the doorway but his voice is gentle and tentative, “Y’know what, uh.. I got this friend, comin’ for dinner tomorrow night.” Frank pauses, for whatever reason, and his brows draw.
You grin, a little confused. “That’s nice. You gonna cook?” He shrugs.
“Uh.. yeah. But, uh. Maybe.. you’d wanna join.” Frank cracks a smile, disarming you a little. Pressing his lips after a second, he shrugs again. “Y’know. You gave me somethin’, I give you somethin’. How it goes, ain’t it?”
“I guess it is, huh.” You laugh, crossing your arms and chewing the inside of your cheek. You squint as if you’re considering his offer. He squints on back. If it’s corny, it’s delightfully so, nonetheless. “Okay, yeah. Dinner tomorrow night. Plus a mystery guest.”
“Not a mystery. Curtis.” Frank corrects, pivoting and grabbing the door handle with a grunt. You hum, meeting those melty brown eyes as he throws you a look over his shoulder and steps out, “Stay safe. Lock this.”
It’s one of those nights where, despite exhaustion, you don’t fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow; instead, you lay there, albeit for just a handful of minutes, thinking. Lazy, dragging thoughts, images without intention, and many of them end up involving the low rasp of Frank’s laughter, the movement of his arm as he draped it across the couch back.
The drift to sleep is soft around the edges, blurred. Warmed by a night with a man who made you laugh easy and let you relax to your bones. You can’t understate that kind of company, really.
Summary: From the moment you walked into the bar, Jo knew deep in her heart exactly what was going to happen. AKA: You and Dean fall in love as told from a series of moments that Jo sees.
Content warning: Suggestive. Nothing explicit. Kissing. Sharing a bed. Drinking. Explicit language (I think I only used fuck one time!). Mentions of reader being shot and stitched up (does not go into detail).
Word Count: 4k
A/N: I have been thinking about this Dramione fanfic I read awhile back that was from Pansy's POV that was so beautiful and sad. I wish I could find it again, but it was so long ago that I read it. But it had this concept of Pansy watching Draco and Hermione falling in love, and I thought I might give it a try. Maybe, one day, in the future, if I can ever try to imagine Dean with someone other than myself, I might try writing one from the reader's perspective of watching Dean fall in love with someone else, but today ain't that day.
Master list.
AO3.
From the moment you walked into the bar, Jo knew deep in her heart exactly what was going to happen. You walked in with a sparkle in your eyes, a smirk on your lips, and a swing to your hips that had everyone's head turning. Dean's included. And that was when she knew, as Dean's eyes widened before he schooled his face into a calm nonchalance, that there was never going to be a chance for her.
Your eyes glanced around the bar, taking in the atmosphere, the jukebox playing in the background, the smell of spilled beer and cigarette smoke lingering in the air. And your shoulders dropped slightly as you relaxed, like this bar was exactly where you belonged. Like you have many nights in places like this across the country.
You sauntered up to the bartop, sliding onto a stool, thankfully several away from Dean, and Jo turns to you, smile on her face. "What's your poison?"
"Just a beer, please. Whatever you have is fine." You say, smiling back at her. Then Dean slid in the barstool next to you.
"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asks, wearing a smirk that has gotten him in bed with plenty of girls before.
"What exactly are you insinuating about this place? Or me for that matter." You ask, turning to face him, eyes assessing his features.
Dean's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Just that you are too beautiful for the likes of the customers around here."
You look around the room before focusing on Dean again. "I don't know. Blue shirt over there has potential."
Dean nearly spit takes the drink of beer he was taking. Of course she had to find Sam in the bar. He just hoped Sam wasn't your type. "Yeah, well, that's my brother."
Jo sets a bottle of beer in front of you. You smile, thanking her. You take a long drink, putting the bottle back on the counter.
"Oh? Your brother. So the good looks run in the family?"
"You can thank my dad for that."
You smile. "I just might. What's his name?"
"John. Winchester."
"Winchester?" Your brow raises in recognition. The way you said that made Dean realize there might be more to you than meets the eye.
"You heard of him?" Dean asks.
"I have. Which means you are—"
"Dean."
"Dean." You repeat, and he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue. He wonders how you might say it in a different context. "I've heard about you too."
The smirk that crosses his face is infectious. "All good things, I hope."
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"There is a lot about you I would like to know, including your name."
Giving him your name, you can't help flushing under his gaze. You grab your beer bottle to take another drink, trying to stall for a moment.
He repeats you name to himself before looking around the bar, his eyes landing on the free pool table. "I got an idea. How good are you at pool?"
You shrug, not wanting to let him know you could probably give him a run for his money.
"Are you a gambling girl?"
"Depends. What do you want?"
"A kiss."
"Is that all?"
"For now."
Jo glances up as she wipes the bartop down with a rag. You and Dean are laughing as he leans over the pool table, him winking at you before taking the shot and balls scatter across the table, sinking an impressive number in the pockets. You stand there, leaning against your cue stick as you play the naive girl. And Jo should know, she has played that part too many times to count as she hustles men who think that just because she is a woman that she doesn't know how to whoop their ass at pool or poker.
And Dean is so caught up, trying to show off for you, that he doesn't realize exactly what you are doing. You miss your next shot, biting your lip in concentration, like it is taking all your effort. Jo knows you are just concentrating on making sure you miss the shot, but Dean comes up behind you, correcting your form, body pressed against yours, lips by your ear as he whispers instructions. She pretends not to see you relax against him, adjusting your stance to purposefully press further back into him.
You make the next shot, but it doesn't save you from losing the game. Even if it is purposefully.
"I think it is time for me to collect my reward." Dean says, grinning from ear to ear as he steps closer, one hand sliding to your waist.
You hold up your hand against his chest. "Hold on, cowboy. Double or nothing?"
"You want to lose again?" Dean asks. "You know, if I win again, I'm going to want more than two kisses, sweetheart."
"Too bad, Winchester. Your bet was for a kiss. Double is two kisses."
His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you closer. "We all know where this is going."
"Do we? Pray, tell, where is this going?" You ask, laughing.
"You and me back at my motel room. With a lot less clothes."
"I do love the confidence. And if I say no?"
Dean holds up his hands. "Then I'll back off. But something is telling me you don't want me too."
Your face twists into a smirk at his audacity. But he wasn't exactly wrong. He was charming and handsome as sin. You could do worse than him at the end of the day. Your hesitation to answer him seems to be answer enough for him.
"See? That's what I'm talking about. You want this." Dean continues, stepping closer again as his hands land on your hips.
"Here's the problem. You are too good looking to be good where it counts. Guys that look like you typically disappoint in the bedroom." You counter, as your hands twist in his jacket and you lean your head back to look into his eyes.
Dean's eyes glow with amusement, ducks his head to hover his lips just above yours. "Why don't you take me for a test drive and see for yourself?"
Jo turned away, not wanting to hear anymore of the conversation. And she definitely pretended not to see you leaving with Dean at the end of the night, his arm around your waist like he was already familiar, already claiming you in front of everyone. It wasn't until later that she realized she wasn't sure exactly what you were playing for, or if you had won the next match.
The next time Jo saw you, Dean burst through the door with you and Sam on his heels. She had heard that you had helped the brothers on a few cases, but wasn't expecting you to still be around. Hunters came and went. That was the nature of this line of work. And often people tended to work alone. It was easier that way, considering how hard headed some hunters were, and you could get killed if you were too busy arguing over plans instead of acting.
Sam went off in search of Ash, while you and Dean came right up to the bar.
"Hey, Jo." You smile warmly.
"Hey. Can I get you anything?"
"Couple of beers, please." Dean interjected. "How ya been, Jo?"
She reaches for a couple of bottles, handing them over. "You know. Holding down the fort."
Dean opens his bottle, taking a drink. "We just took care of a vampire nest in Oklahoma."
"Yeah? How did that go?"
Dean starts recounting the story to Jo as you listen in, adding little quips here and there. Until Dean goes into detail about the nest. "You should have seen her, Jo. Like an avenging angel covered in blood. I about fell to my knees in love."
You scoff, smacking his arm. "Oh my god. You are seriously overstating my help."
"You saved my life."
You roll your eyes. "That is an exaggeration. But you are welcome for keeping you from getting hurt."
"I haven't thanked you properly yet."
Your eyes widen at the implication. "Dean!"
"Later." He muses, turning his attention back to Jo. "It was epic."
"I'm sure it was something." Jo says, leaning against the counter.
The way Dean's eyes sparkled when he looked at you. She hadn't seen that look on his face before. And definitely never directed towards her. But that's how he was looking at you. Like you had hung the moon and each and every star in the sky, like you were an aurora borealis and he was utterly mesmerized by you.
Jo excused herself, saying she needed to get something from the back, needing a moment to compose herself before she went back out. Before she had to watch you guys like she wasn't just as captivated by the man who seemed to be consumed by you. And she couldn't blame you for falling under Dean's spell. He could charm the pants off anyone. Hell, he had charmed his way into plenty of skirts across the country. But seeing him equally as charmed by you was new. She wondered how long it would last, or if you would be on your way when the newness wore off.
Over the next few months, Jo got to know you better each time you came into Harvelle's Roadhouse. And try as she might, she couldn't hate you. You were kind, funny, always willing to help out if she needed it. Slowly, over time, you guys became friends, your eyes lighting up whenever you saw her. Pulling her away for 'girl time', as you liked to call it, saying you were tired of being around testosterone all the time.
You thankfully didn't tell her the details of your and Dean's budding relationship. She had a sneaking suspicion that you might suspect of her crush on the older Winchester, but you never pushed anything or made it awkward between the two of you. And you must not have said anything to Dean, because he never mentioned anything to her.
She got to know you too. How you got into hunting when your boyfriend was killed by a rugaru, and you were saved by none other than John Winchester from the same fate. How your family had basically disowned you, calling you crazy when you tried to explain what happened. How you decided you were never going to be caught in a situation that you couldn't get out of again. You poured over lore like it was your full time job, which considering this was now your profession, it kinda was.
But you and Jo bonded over nights of bad karoke, over the fact that you were both young women surrounded by male hunters who thought they knew better, who thought that due to your age and gender, you couldn't possibly outsmart them at every turn.
You had begun to think of her as the sister you never had, and she began to do the same.
As the four of you stand in the motel room, Dean scratches the back of his head as he looks around the room. "Alright. I'll take the couch. You and Jo can have the bed, and Sam can have the other bed."
Jo sighed, knowing what she was going to have to offer to take the couch. She should have just gotten her own room so she wouldn't have to deal with this awkwardness. And this shouldn't have been awkward. She knew you and Dean were together. Hell, she was there when it happened. But it didn't mean she wanted it flaunted in her face.
"No. No. I can take the couch. It isn't a big deal." Jo says, setting her stuff down on the table.
Sam cut in, "We could share my bed. It isn't a big deal. I swear I don't bite, and I won't just randomly start spooning you."
"It happened one time, Sam!" You say.
"And now I'm scarred for life." He counters. "Dean was ready to deck me and it wasn't even my fault."
Any other girl would probably be ecstatic at this arrangement, sleeping in Sam Winchester's bed. He was tall, attractive, had a nice smile. But Jo only had eyes for one Winchester. The one that was extremely off limits. The one that was undoubtedly yours. So Jo smiled and thanked Sam, praying that she wouldn't have to see or hear too much from either you or Dean.
Luckily, you both were either exhausated or were conscientiousness enough to realize you weren't alone, and Jo didn't have to hear more than a few kisses and whispered good nights before the room was quiet and dark.
In the morning, as light filtered through the old dusty curtains of the motel room, all that could be heard was soft snoring and the occasional groan of the mattress as someone would shift in bed. And Jo had woken up after a fitful night of trying to sleep.
Then she heard a deep breath and a sigh coming from the bed you and Dean shared. She risked a glance over and saw Dean pulling you closer, you both turned towards each other.
"Mornin'." Dean murmured softly, voice rough from sleep and disuse and you grinned up at him.
"Good morning, baby." You whisper back, pressing yourself against his warmth. Dean's hand splayed against your back to keep you as close as he can. Your leg hooks over his hip, and you giggle quietly, feeling just how awake every part of him was. "Well, good morning."
Dean's answering chuckle is husky before he kisses you. Deep, desperate, wanting. When he pulls back he murmurs against your lips, "Don't tempt me. It isn't just Sam in the room this time, sweetheart."
You nip his bottom lip. "You gotta be good, Winchester. Keep it in your pants."
Then his hand slips down your body, under your sleep shorts, past your panties as his fingers press against you. You can barely hold back a moan as you breathlessly gasp, your fingers curling in his shirt.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." He says as he leaves you empty, his hand returning to your back.
"You are a menace." You mumble.
"Your menace." He corrects.
You sigh, pressing your face into his neck.
"I gotta take a shower." He murmurs. You pull back and smirk up at him, question in your eyes. "Nope. Even if you are all I'm going to be thinking about today, the answer is no."
You untangle yourself from him to let him shift away. "Fine. But just saying. It saves water."
Dean chuckles again. "Not the way we shower."
"Fine. Leave your girlfriend all alone and unsatisfied."
"Girlfriend, huh?"
"You got a problem with that?"
"Nah. It has a nice ring to it." You kiss him again, all the space between you disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Jo stretches, yawning loudly to make a show that she is waking up, trying to make you guys realize you aren't the only ones awake. She isn't sure just how much more of this she can take. You both pull apart, Dean glancing over your shoulder.
"Morning, Jo. How did you sleep with Sam taking up all the room in the bed?" Dean asks.
"Fine. I think I'm just going to take a quick shower." She says, sitting up in the bed, careful not to wake Sam, still snoring quietly beside her. Grabbing some fresh clothes, she escapes to the bathroom, closing the door behind her as she leans against his and tries to get ahold of herself.
In the back of her mind, she knew this was coming. You and Dean in a relationship. Why wouldn't you fall for Dean? Jo had and he wasn't even trying to make her fall for him. He was magnetic. Eyes such a deep green you felt like you could sink into them forever. And when his attention was on you, it made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. Even if some of his pick up lines were cheesy, his confidence in delivering each and every one was difficult to ignore.
Besides, it wasn't like she was trying to make Dean fall in love with her now. She knew when to back off, even if it did hurt. She wouldn't be that girl who tried to steal a guy. Really, what guy was even worth that much trouble? And if you did manage to get him, was he worth keeping, if he was so easily swayed? She knew she wouldn't respect Dean if she got him that way.
She just wished she could convince her heart to move on.
She was happy for the two of you. Truly, she was. But there was still that loss that she nutured in her heart, the pain of wanting what was just out of reach. And if he had wanted to, he would have made a move before you came into the picture.
Jo takes a deep breath, pushing herself from the wall to turn on the shower, letting the water heat up. She wasn't sure how she was going to manage it, but she was going to get over Dean. One way or another. Because this wasn't fair to you, Dean, or herself.
It was late one night, the bar slowing down as closing time approached. You and Dean stood by the darts, as he played against Sam. You sat on a chair, just watching the brothers try and outmatch the other, sipping your drink.
Jo saw as Sam won a round, and Dean moped, dragging himself to stand between your legs. Your hands running up his arms soothingly. His head drops against your shoulder, your fingers running through his hair. The perfect picture of love.
She didn't hear what you said, but she saw the way Dean's body froze, his hands on your waist. He pulls his head back to look at you. His eyes were wide, unsure, like he isn't sure whether or not to run. Then he swallows, one of his hands cupping your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.
Jo can sense this is a private moment, but she is unable to look away. Your hands shake as they fist in his jacket, keeping him in front of you.
"Say it again." He murmurs. Adrenaline might be rushing through his body, but he holds onto you gently, like one wrong movement is going to break this moment.
One corner of your mouth pulls up, and even though Jo can't hear what you are whispering as you gaze into Dean's eyes, willing him to believe you, she can read your lips as they move.
I love you.
You just told Dean you loved him. And he looks…awestruck. Like he isn't sure how he got this lucky, that you love him. He is just some hunter with more blood on his hands than anyone should, but you see something more. Something better than he ever could in himself.
Then he is kissing you fevertly, like he can't get enough of the taste of you. Like he needs to breathe the same air you do. When you finally part, you both are breathing heavy, staring into each other's eyes like nothing else exists in the world besides the person in front of them.
When Dean pulls you up from the chair, you follow him outside, grinning like a schoolgirl completely and irrevocably in love. Jo just grinned to herself, hoping no one stumbled onto you guys, knowing neither of you were patient enough to ensure you were completely alone before you…celebrated.
Dean holds you close to his body as he carries you inside the bar, you face twisted in a grimace against the pain. You press down on your side, trying to stop your blood from gushing from the bullet wound. Dean's face is frantic as he sets you down on a table, hollering for Ellen.
Everyone comes rushing out, crowding around you. You are breathing heavy, doing your best to put on a brave face for everyone around.
"I'm fine. I'm fine." You say, your voice betraying just how much pain you are truly in.
"You are not fine. You were shot!" Dean says as Sam bursts through the front door.
"Is she okay?" Sam asks.
Your blood covers all three of you. Jo wonders if the boys should have taken you to the hospital instead of here, but that would invite a police report, and no one wanted that. Then her mother goes to lift your shirt, revealing the bullet wound on your stomach. Luckily it had stopped oozing blood quite so much, your body trying to clot off the wound.
"Did it go through?" Ellen asks.
"I think so?" You say, trying to focus on your breathing instead of the pain coursing through your body.
"Let me see." Ellen says.
You grunt as Dean and Sam help turn you so Ellen can inspect your skin, seeing the exit wound on your back.
"You are one lucky girl. Ash, go grab the first aid kit, she is going to need stitches. Honey, we ain't got any pain killers."
"Something strong will work." You say, and Sam crosses the room to go behind the bar and grab a bottle of tequila. Dean holds your hand, his other smoothing your hair from your sweat soaked brow.
When Sam hands you a glass of the tequila, you shakily take a swallow, grimacing against the burn down your throat. You take another gulp, draining the glass. "More, Sam. Please."
Sam is refilling the glass, handing it back to you as Jo goes to grab some fresh water to help her mom clean your wound. When she comes out you are gripping Dean's hand so tight, your knuckles are white. But he doesn't say a word about the pain, completely focused on you, as he leans closer, whispering softly in your ear.
"Dean, this isn't your fault." You say. "Shit happens."
"Like hell this isn't my fault. I'm supposed to protect you." Dean says.
You look at him. "Dean, I love you, but goddamn, you can't keep me completely safe. That isn't reasonable."
Dean frowned. "That's my job. If I can't keep you safe—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence." You say, and Jo thinks for a moment, that maybe you and Dean had had this conversation before, probably under better circumstances. "Don't you even think for one minute that I would be better off without you, Dean Winchester."
"Guys, you can have this conversation after I'm done." Ellen says, eyeing both you and Dean.
"Fuck!" You hiss as Ellen starts cleaning your wound, first with water then rubbing alcohol.
Everything pauses as Ellen slowly stitches you up. Your face is contorted with pain with each draw of the needle through your skin until she is finally done. You breath a sigh of relief, trying to sit up on the table. Dean helps you up, unable to keep himself from trying to keep you from hurting as much as possible.
"Thank you guys." You say, your words starting to slur from the blood loss and amount of alcohol you drank in such a small amount of time.
Sam helps everyone start to clean up, as Dean keeps his arm around your shoulders, steadying you. You head falls against his chest. "You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart. I don't want to lose you."
"I love you, Dean Winchester. Don't let me getting hurt push you away." You murmur quietly.
He kisses the top of your head. "I love you too." He looks like he has more he wants to say, but considering your state, he just repeats the words again.
And Jo knew as she watched you both, helping everyone clean up, that this was the way everything was supposed to turn out. You and Dean were perfect together, practically made for each other. Balancing the other and helping make each other better. And God help whatever monster came after you next, because Dean wouldn't hold back to keep the ones he loved safe. And he loved you.
You are a girl in StoryBrooke mid 20s called (Y/N). She was seen as a beauty to most men but one man in particular who was after her. He’s obsessed with her, he put cameras in her place more than he needed he wanted every angle. He has a lot of footage he has saved in his office. Months and months of material and possible blackmail. That man is Mr Gold the richest man in town. You were out going to granny’s to get your morning coffee when Mr. Gold comes up next to you. “Hello Dearie~” you look ahead knowing who it is. “Third day in a row, Gold.” He smirks “what can’t i see my favourite person.” He continues “I have a proposition for you dearie, I’ll grant you a single task, but be warned-failure will be met with….consequences. You’ll find me awaiting your arrival at my estate. Don’t keep me waiting.” He said the final part handing you an envelope. “This has all the details you need.” He walks to his car. He turns back to you “I’ll see you tonight dearie” he gets in his car and drives off. You go to granny’s and see Ruby “Hey Ruby, can i get a hazelnut coffee. To go please.” She nods and starts your order, you sit at a nearby stool waiting. You sit thinking bout the interaction with Mr. Gold. Your so deep in thought you don’t notice Ruby with your order “Hazelnut coffee to go?” She says in front of you with it in her hand, you snap out of it. “Oh thanks Ruby” you take your coffee, put some money on the counter and leave. You take your coffee you don’t notice a man watching you from car . You go about your da not thinking about Gold’s estate. You head home around 7-8pm. You enter your house, you lock the door and turn on the light, you put your stuff down and start to relax as your about to get changed there’s a knock at the door, you go ad answer it. “Mr.Gold.” He comes in without being invited in, He shuts the door and locks it. “What are you doing here?” You ask, He turns to you with a serious expression “you didn’t come to my estate dearie” something clicks in your mind “I completely forgot about that” he looks at your facial expression. Seeing you genuinely forgot “It’s ok dearie” he lifts your chin to look at him. “But I will punish you and you will come to my estate tomorrow night same time.” You nod, he looks relieved “ good, now time for punishment” he leads you to your couch and sat down and placed his cane to one side, he then pulled you down next to him, he kisses you its hungry, needy. He’s craving you, he shoves his tongue in your mouth. He pulls back and pushes you by the back of your head so your across his lap. He pulls your skirt up and your panties down, he looks at your tight holes. His hand comes down on your ass, you let out a yelp. His other hand holding your head down so you don’t move, he sucks his fingers and rubs them on your pussy, you try not to moan. He pushes his fingers in your tight hole. “Such a tight pussy” He puts his fingers that were behind your head in your mouth, making you suck his fingers while he fingers your pussy. You try not to moan. He wants you to moan, he can feel you trying not to moan. He moves his fingers faster in your pussy. You try not to moan but it’s getting harder and harder, he spanks your ass harder this time, you yelp he takes his fingers out your mouth and rubs it on your clit. Not letting up he focuses on your pussy his fingers and hands on your tight hole and clit making you so wet, you can hear the wet sounds your pussy is making. It’s getting harder to not moan. He spreads your pussy lips and kisses your hole, this catches you off guard and you gasp “Holy shit!!!” You gasp, he smirks and keeps licking your pussy, he squeezes your ass while licking your pussy, he starts spanking your ass while licking your pussy until your a mess and your eyes are crossing over “Fuck!!” You moan. He smirks knowing you’re close, he stops and pulls back from your pussy. He sits up with you still over his lap, he smirks and says “you were close weren’t you, only good girls get to cum” He spanks you “are you a good girl?” He hits your cheek again and again, you were a mess.
Hope you enjoyed and Thank you for reading
Everything feels so good. “Yes, I’m a good girl” you moan. He spanks you again each time harder, he growls “are you?, are you my good girl?” He said in a teasing voice, he grazes your pussy with his fingers making it sweet tortore you shiver in pleasure wanting him to go deeper. “Mmm~ yes I’m your good girl.” You moan. He smirks “louder baby” “I’m your good girl.” You say louder, he spanks harder, your ass is red now, “scream it baby” he says smirking, he has you right where he wants you. “IM YOUR GOOD GIRL!!!!!” You scream. He growls satisfied, he grabs you by your neck and kisses you “good girl” He stops spanking you and said “but I’m not going to let you cum.” He smirked. You look up at him “what?, why not?” You said snapping out of your haze. “Because it was a punishment.” He said liking toying with you like this. “Come to my estate tomorrow and I wont need to do this again.” He says moving some hair behind your ear. “Unless you like being punished?” He said looking into your eyes. He was so close you hadn’t noticed, you hadn’t noticed he grabbed your ass. That snapped you out of your thoughts “Ok, I’ll be there” you say softly “Good.” He said kissing you softly, he moves you off his lap and gets up “I’ll see you tomorrow night” he says leaving with a hard-on, leaving you pent up and wanting to cum. He leaves and heads home. You feel so pent up and go up to your room what you don’t know is someone’s watching you. Mr. Gold mes it back to his manor, his cock is throbbing hard thinking about you and your cunt. He goes to his office it’s big and spacious. He has a couch and coffee table and a flat screen on the wall to watch certain things on there, there’s also a mini bar for those long nights. He goers on to his computer and puts in a password on a security system. He sees you in your place, he sees how pent up you are, he smirks knowing he did that by denying you from cumming. He sits in his chair ad watches you get off in your room. He gets his cock out, instantly feeling relief from being hard for a while. He starts jacking off watching you play with yourself unaware he was watching you. He watches you rub your clit fast to relief yourself from being so pent up, he jacks himself off to the same speed as you, imagining you on his dick. He cums all over his desk and hand as you scream out and squirt on camera. He pants, now he can’t wait for tomorrow night.
dump his ass. move to a walkable city. start hormones. get into fiber crafts. dye your hair weird. grow an herb garden. foster a distrustful cat. take a welding class. invite your friends over for tea and cake. get way too into obscure media. explore a new cuisine. lie to the police. protest in the streets. life has so many possibilities don't it?
Summary — Bucky, hiding out in a Bucharest safehouse with you, becomes quietly fixated on the warmth and steady heartbeat he clings to for comfort, finding the peace and safety he thought he’d lost forever in you.
Author’s Note: I was originally going to write something like this for Bob, which I honestly still might do, but I feel like Bucky kind of suits this a little more. I hope you guys enjoy this! Love ya’ll lots xxx
Bucharest at night was all car horns, murmured arguments in a language you didn’t speak, and the occasional rumble of the tram a few streets over. Through the cracked-open window of the safehouse, the air smelt faintly of rain on concrete and exhaust fumes.
Bucky hadn’t said much since you’d come in. He never really did after dark, not unless Steve was around, not unless something urgent forced him to speak. Now, sitting at the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, he just… watched you.
You were used to it.
Not in a creepy way, not in a way that made you want to pull away. There was something in his eyes when he looked at you like that, something raw and unguarded. Bucky Barnes could stare down a room full of Hydra agents without flinching, but when he looked at you, it was like he was memorising you, piece by piece, in case you vanished when he blinked.
“You’re doing it again,” you murmured, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile.
His mouth quirked, almost a smile back. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me like I’m a puzzle you’re trying to solve.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Not a puzzle.”
“Then what?”
Bucky’s shoulders shifted, the leather of his jacket creaking. He hadn’t even taken it off yet; you knew he slept better without it, but sometimes he didn’t have it in him to peel away the layers. Not until you were close enough to help.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, eyes roaming over you like he couldn’t help himself. Not in the way men sometimes looked, but slower, softer. Like he was searching for something familiar in your shape.
“You… calm me down,” he finally said, almost under his breath.
You crossed the small room, bare feet silent against the uneven wood floor. “How?”
His jaw worked like he wasn’t sure he should tell you. Then, as you stopped in front of him, his flesh hand lifted, tentative, slow enough to let you move away if you wanted, and settled at your hip. His fingers pressed lightly into the fabric of your shirt, just enough to feel the warmth beneath.
“You’re warm,” he said simply. “You’re soft.”
Your lips curved. “You make me sound like a blanket.”
“Better than a blanket,” he muttered, and his metal hand came up to rest on your thigh, gentle despite its weight. “Blankets don’t breathe. Don’t…” He paused, looking down for a beat. “Don’t make me feel like I’m here.”
You understood more than he probably thought you did.
With no more than a quiet hum, you eased between his knees, your hands finding the back of his neck. He exhaled, slow and shaky, like he’d been holding it in for hours.
The next few moments passed in silence, except for the soft hum of the radiator and the faint noise from the street below. His hands, one warm, one cool, anchored you in place as his forehead came to rest against your sternum.
It was the same every time. He would hold still at first, almost rigid, until his breathing began to match yours. Then his grip would tighten, just enough that you knew he was there, grounded. His hair brushed your chest, a little too long and curling at the ends, smelling faintly of the soap you’d given him days ago.
You threaded your fingers through it, slow and careful, and felt him melt.
“Better than a blanket,” you teased again, softer now.
He didn’t look up. “Better than anything.”
You thought that would be the end of it, but Bucky didn’t let go. His hands slid slowly, deliberately, around your waist, pulling you forward until you were perched on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. He didn’t kiss you; he didn’t even try. He just held you there, like your presence alone was something he couldn’t get enough of.
You’d noticed it before, how he gravitated toward you when he was tired or overwhelmed. His fingers brushing your sleeve, his shoulder leaning into yours, the subtle way he’d place himself close enough to catch your warmth.
Now, his head tilted so his cheek rested against your chest. “Your heartbeat”, he murmured, voice muffled by your shirt.
“What about it?” you asked quietly, running your nails lightly through his hair.
“It’s steady. Doesn’t change when I touch you.” His arm tightened around your back. “That’s… not how it usually is. People get nervous.”
You blinked, heart aching just a little. “I’m not nervous with you, Buck.”
He didn’t answer, but you felt him sink further against you, like those words had weight and warmth of their own.
When you finally coaxed him to lie down, he didn’t give you space, not that you wanted it. His flesh hand tangled with yours immediately, thumb tracing the lines of your palm over and over like he was memorising them.
“You have tiny hands,” he murmured into the dark.
“They’re not that small.”
“They are,” he insisted, lacing his fingers between yours, then bringing your joined hands to his chest. “See? Barely cover anything.”
“That’s because you’re built like a wall.”
He huffed out something close to a laugh but kept holding your hand there, over the steady thump of his own heartbeat. Then his metal fingers found your hair, combing through it with a surprising gentleness.
“Your hair’s different in the dark,” he said, sounding almost thoughtful.
You smiled into his shoulder. “Different how?”
“Feels softer. Or maybe my head’s just making that up because I like it.”
You didn’t think it was his imagination. The way his voice had dropped, softer than the low hum of the radiator, made your chest ache with something warm and unshakeable.
Minutes bled into each other, the city sounds fading, his breathing evening out. But every now and then you’d feel it – the subtle squeeze of his arm around your waist, the way his fingers would flex like he was checking to make sure you were still there.
When sleep finally pulled at you, Bucky’s voice came again, barely a whisper.
“I used to think the safest place I could be was where no one could find me.”
“And now?” you murmured.
His nose brushed your hairline, breath warm. “Now it’s wherever you are.”
You squeezed his hand. “Then you’re already safe.”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed himself closer, as though he could breathe you in, and finally, finally, let go of the tension he carried like armour.
a drabble of our big strong beefy bucky becoming a baby around y/n when he got sick plzzzzzz 🥺
your big strong beefy boyfriend is trying so hard to hold it in. he’s been under the weather all day and in dire need of affection—but you’re not giving it to him.
you were watching some tv show, completely oblivious to your chunky baby boyfriend until he’s standing by the doorframe, arms crossed with a frown.
“baby,” he calls out. “look at me.”
you glance at him, and he has the biggest baby pout and droopy blue eyes.
“im sick,” he sniffles. “i want attention. and you’re not paying attention to me.”
his big arms were practically bulging through his shirt with how tight he was crossing them, his gruff exterior a complete contrast to how soft and small he sounded.
“aww,” you coo and open your arms. “come here, baby.”
he sniffles as he makes slow yet eager steps toward you until he practically throws himself onto the couch and into your arms.
he melts instantly, nuzzling his head in your chest, warm big beefy arms wrapping around you tightly.
“finally,” he sighs, his hands roaming all over your body. “i’ve been wanting attention all day.”
“aw, sweetheart. you’re just a big baby boy when you’re sick, aren’t you?”
Summary:
You want Bucky to be happy, even if that means it breaks your heart every time you see him with Natasha. With the aid of Steve, you two devise a series of plans in order to get them together.
What you fail to realize is that Bucky and Natasha are simultaneously devising a series of plans to get you and Steve together, even if it pains Bucky.
Word Count: 10.7k
Warnings/Tags: Reader is implied to be at least slightly shorter than Bucky (it’s like one line), Mutual pining except they’re both stupid, you and Steve wingman, miscommunication, there’s some texting, Avengers tower fic
A/N: Woah not a thunderbolts fic!?!?!!? crazy
Masterlist
You have been friends with Bucky for a while. You’ve been there with him during his low points and high points. After years of companionship, you had foolishly believed you had a chance. You really wanted to believe that maybe after all these years beside him, perhaps you could be the one to be by his side for the rest of your lives.
Like you said, foolish.
You had already considered the idea that he liked Natasha, but you wanted to live in denial until it was confirmed.
You get it, she’s pretty, incredibly skilled, and can empathize with him on a personal level. They’re essentially made for each other. You wouldn’t even be lying when you say that they’d be a good couple. They would, and that makes it hurt so much more.
You walk into the common area, immediately diverting your eyes away from Bucky and Natasha as you walk in. You beeline for the kitchen and grab a glass of water, using Steve as a shield to block your gaze from them.
Despite that, your own eyes betray you and sneak a glance at them. They seem to be invested in their conversation. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you don’t bother trying to listen. If they don’t want you to be able to hear you, you won’t be able to.
“Notice them too, huh?” Steve leans on the counter next to you, a small smile on his face.
You place your glass down, “Huh? Oh, yeah.” You offer a polite smile to him.
“Honestly can’t believe they aren’t together yet,” you try to ignore how your stomach drops at his words.
You both turn to see Natasha smirking at something Bucky said. Whatever he says next seems to have her giggling.
“They really are perfect.” You admit, forlornly.
Steve nods, “Yeah, if he could do something about it.” He taps his finger on the counter before turning slowly towards you.
You turn to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“Well, he hasn’t exactly dated since 1945, I’m pretty sure.” Steve starts.
You raise your eyebrow even more, “‘Pretty sure?’” You quote
He tilts his head, “Well, I haven’t exactly asked. I’m just making an assumption, but that’s not the point.” He waves a hand, shaking his head. “I’m saying that,” he points at himself, then at you, “we help him.”
You almost let laughter escape, but you catch yourself. “You want us to wingman for him?” You smile at the absurdity of the idea. Out of all the people he could’ve asked. How did Steve manage to ask the one person who also likes Bucky?
He offers you the most hopeful grin, and you want to decline. God, how you want to decline, but then you look at them. He looks unburdened, untroubled. He’s smiling as if nothing weighs him down, and at the end of the day, that is what matters.
You turn back to Steve, a smirk on your face, “When do we start?”
-
Dinner.
Dinner is when you start.
Honestly, you should not be surprised. You agreed to Steve’s proposition with (seemingly) no hesitation. Why would he wait to try to push them closer together?
So here you all sit at dinner. You sit next to Steve and across from the source of your pain and misery (and love, but that’s not important right now). Your eyes flicker over to Natasha, who's right next to Bucky.
It’s silent, like uncomfortably silent. Usually, somebody is making noise, but nope, not this time. All you hear is the utensils clatter every couple of seconds.
You glance at Steve, tilting your head slightly across the table to Bucky and Natasha. He returns the stare before looking towards Bucky. “So—”
“You two,” Natasha addresses you and Steve, surprising both of you. “How’ve you two been recently?” She takes a sip of water, giving you both a piercing look.
Both you and Steve glance at each other before looking back at her, “Uh, we’ve been… we’ve been good.” Your confidence falters at her random question.
“‘Good,’ huh?” She traces the rim of her glass, not breaking eye contact with you.
You nod slowly, not sure what she’s implying. “Yep,” you pop the ‘p,’ “‘good.’”
She turns back towards Bucky, for a moment, before humming. “You two been spending a lot of time together?” She phrases it like a question, but knowing her, it’s anything but. It’s a declaration in disguise.
“I mean, we spend lots of time with everyone,” Steve interjects, with you nodding in agreement.
“What about you two?” You try to flip this onto them.
Bucky looks puzzled. You wouldn’t be able to tell if you didn’t know him, but you do. You notice the details, such as a small twitch of his eyebrow, giving away his confusion.
Natasha, undeterred, quips back: “‘We spend lots of time with everyone.’”
You smile, “Touché.”
“We happened to notice that you guys were… conversing in private earlier.” Steve cuts his steak.
“I wouldn’t call that ‘private.’ If you guys could see us, it wasn’t exactly private.” Bucky joins in.
“Well, what else should I call it?” Steve takes a bite of his steak. “Intimate?” He whispers low so that only you four can hear it.
Bucky and Natasha both freeze, eliciting a reaction from one of them is an achievement, but two? They must really be trying to hide their secret.
“‘Intimate.’” Bucky deadpans, eyes flickering to you in disbelief as if asking, “Do you hear this guy?”
You shrug, “We’re only describing what we saw.” You move your food around your plate, avoiding eye contact with Bucky.
“Oh? What about you two?” Bucky scoffs.
You blink, stopping your motion, “What about us?”
“You two looked cozy earlier in the kitchen,” Natasha remarks.
“I was getting water?” You frown, you aren’t sure “cozy” is a word you’d use to describe that situation.
“Really?” She looks at you in mock disbelief. “'Cause I dare say it looked almost,” she smirks, “‘intimate?’”
Just as you’re about to defend yourselves, you’re cut off.
“Okay, what the hell happened? Did something happen? It feels like something happened. Frankly, I’m disappointed in all of you for not saying anything.” All four of you freeze and turn toward Tony.
“Nothing happened,” Steve responds dryly.
“Now why do I find that hard to believe?” Sam asks.
“Maybe we should drop the topic?” You try to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. Thankfully, Bucky and Natasha seem to agree.
Tony gestures his hand to you, “Great idea. I think that’s a brilliant idea.”
The silence that permeates the room is suffocating, but the rest of the team looks relieved. You try to sneak a glance across the table, and Bucky meets your eyes. He raises an eyebrow, and you try to suppress a smile, but you fail. You cough in order to cover your rising laughter. You notice him smirk at his plate, and you avoid looking at him for the rest of the night. Sometimes you wonder if he is aware of the effect he has on you.
As dinner finishes up, Steve gestures for you to follow him.
“Well, that went better than expected.” You comment.
Steve gives you a look. “Perhaps we were too forward with it.”
You huff, amused, “Yeah, maybe ‘intimate’ was a bit on the nose there.”
Steve looks a bit sheepish, shaking his head. “Okay, we need a new plan. Maybe if we can catch them on their own, it might be easier to stage something.”
You shake your head, “That assumes they can be separated from one another. Every time I think I see Bucky on his own, suddenly Natasha appears out of thin air.”
“Well, Natasha does have a solo mission coming up soon.” Steve walks over to the couch, and you follow close behind.
“So what? We basically ambush Bucky while she’s gone and push him into admitting something?” You place your hand on your hip.
Steve smiles, “Your words, not mine.”
“Wait,” you shake your head, “what are we even aiming for at this point? Are we just trying to get him to admit his feelings for her?” The words feel bitter on your tongue.
“If we can get him to admit his feelings for her, then that makes our job a lot easier.” Steve sits down, looking up at you.
“I guess that’s true…” You look down at your feet, contemplative. “You know when she leaves?”
“Two days.”
“Okay…” You sigh, “We can make that work.”
Steve stands up, clasping his hand on your shoulder, “Don’t look so stressed. It’ll be quick and easy. He won’t need much convincing.”
You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, he won’t.” Your voice is barely a whisper at this point. You doubt Bucky will hesitate at the chance to get with Natasha.
“Well, I’m going to head in for the night. We can plan tomorrow. Goodnight.” He clasps your shoulder before giving a small wave and leaving.
“Night, Steve.” You return the wave.
-
The next day, you got up early, not because you wanted to, but because Steve knocked on your door at four in the morning.
“Is somebody dying?” You ask, half joking.
He rolls his eyes, “Wanna join me in the gym?” He asks. “We still gotta talk about what our plan will be.”
“You seem too happy about this.” You rub your eyes.
“Come on, I’ve never gotten to set up a date for him. You know, he actually tried to set me up on some dates in the past.” He leans against your doorway.
“Really?” You chuckle at the image. “How’d those go?”
“Eh, they never worked out. I always found interest in other things.” He shrugs.
“Like what? Enlisting in the military?” You smile at him.
He returns the smile, “You know me so well, now get dressed. I want to get there before Buck does.”
You sigh, mourning the sleep you could’ve had, but get changed anyway. When you open the door, Steve is still standing there. “When does Bucky get there?” You ask, continuing the conversation from earlier.
“Usually we go together a little past five,” Steve explains, walking towards the elevator.
“Oh, so you’re trying to avoid him.” You wait for the elevator door to open before walking in.
“You make it sound worse than it actually is.” Steve comments amused.
“I’m just stating the facts.” You mumble, closing the elevator door and tapping the floor number.
Eventually, the door opens up and you two make your way into the gym. “Okay, so…” Steve slowly trails off as both of your eyes widen. You don’t even hide your shocked expression at seeing Bucky and Natasha already in there.
You four all stare at each other for a moment before you try to break the tension, “Uh, hi?”
“Hello,” Natasha responds slowly, “we didn’t expect you two to be down here.”
“Yeah?” You nod. “Well, neither did we.” Your voice gets quieter the more you speak. You turn towards Steve. “I thought you said you and Bucky—” You whisper.
“I’m aware of what I said,” Steve responds, matching your tone.
Bucky and Steve look at each other for a long moment, not saying anything.
“Were you two planning on coming here alone?” Natasha asks slowly, keeping an eye on the super soldiers.
“I guess?” You frown, Steve turns toward Natasha, shaking his head. “I mean, what about you two?”
“Just wanted to get an early start to our day.” Natasha shrugs.
“Us too.” Steve gestures between you two. You nod eagerly.
It seemed the conversation started to die off after that comment, so you make your way to your preferred piece of equipment when Natasha decides to continue.
“Is this about dinner last night?” She asks, making both you and Steve pause.
“What?” You frown.
Natasha sighs, tilting her head to the side, looking at you two expectantly.
You look at Steve to try to gauge his reaction. “What about last night? I thought we moved on.” You give her a confused smile.
“Did you guys follow us down here?” Bucky asks, his eyes on you and you alone.
Your lips part in genuine shock, “No? Why would we?”
“I don’t know, you two seemed awfully passionate last night.” Natasha raises an eyebrow.
“‘Passionate?’” You repeat incredulously.
You turn towards Bucky as if to plead for him to understand, “In what world was that conversation ‘passionate?’” You shake your head. “What about you two? If we were passionate, then so were you two.”
Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, “We weren’t.”
You cross your arms. “Really?”
“Really.” You are briefly taken aback at his strong conviction, but nod anyway.
Steve sighs, “We weren’t spying on you.” He turns to Natasha. “Why are you two still hung up over dinner last night anyway?”
“We aren’t.” Natasha glares at Steve.
“You brought up the topic yesterday, and you’re bringing it up again today.” Steve frowns.
You groan, “We aren’t getting anywhere.” You turn toward Bucky. “Please, Bucky, I don’t know what you guys are talking about, but I promise we aren’t following you two. This has nothing to do with dinner. We just came to use the gym.” You don’t look away from him once.
Bucky looks at you for a long moment before looking back at Steve and Natasha, who are still talking (or yelling at this point). “Nat, let’s just go somewhere else.” He stands up, sparing you a meaningful glance before he ushers Natasha out.
You and Steve both watch, surprised. “Why didn’t you try that before she started grilling me?” He looks at you.
Your mouth parts, “I didn’t think it’d work.”
-
The four of you silently agreed to let that day go. You don’t even hide your sigh of relief when Bucky gives you the same smile he always does when he walks past you. You were worried he’d be upset at you, but it seems he let it go.
“Okay, so maybe you can trip him—”
“‘Trip him?’” You rub your temples. “Not all of us are super soldiers, Steve. Bucky is more likely to trip me while I try to trip him.”
“Well,” he pauses, frowning, “okay, maybe you can trip Natasha?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” You shake your head, not looking at him.
He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, then what do you have in mind?”
You take a long sip of your water, “I dunno.”
“Great, so what I’m hearing is, we trip Natasha. Make sure Bucky is nearby, and hypothetically, he should catch her.” Steve spins a pencil in his hand.
“How would I even go about trying to trip Nat?” You look up at him.
He shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, you can push her if that makes it easier?”
“‘Push her?!’” You repeat. “Captain America himself wants me to push her so that she can fall in Bucky’s arms?” You look at him, slightly dumbfounded
He snaps before pointing a finger at you, “Yes.”
“Is this how you got dates in the 40s?” You rub your temple, looking away from him.
“I didn’t, remember? Buck set them all up for me.” He responds, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone for the headache he is causing you.
“I can see why he had to, my goodness.” You sigh. He gives you a disapproving look.
“What if he doesn’t catch her?” You ask, leaning against the desk you two were planning on. There is a large piece of paper littered with stick figures sprawled out on top of it. The top of the page has “The Plan” written in black sharpie.
“He will,” Steve says confidently.
“Okay, what if Natasha catches herself?” You put your hand down next to Natasha’s stick figure.
“Well,” he pauses, “make sure you push her hard.”
“Natasha will kill me.” You sit down at the desk, setting your head onto it.
Steve pats your shoulder, “She will un-kill you after she gets with Bucky. Now come on, this will be great.”
You sigh, grabbing your phone before following Steve out of the room. “You sure you wanna do this now?” You ask, speeding up to walk side by side with him.
“I don’t see why not. No time like the present.” He keeps his long stride.
“How are we even gonna position them to be near each other? Maybe we should reconsider.” You frown, following as he sharply turns around corners of the hallway without slowing down.
“Just get Romanoff down, I’ll handle the rest.”
“Okay, well if you—”
You run into somebody, and it’s somebody strong. They immediately cause you to fall back a little, but they immediately clutch your arms. “Shit- You okay?” You immediately recognize Bucky’s voice.
“Oh, uh, yeah?” Your brain freezes the moment you try to speak to him.
“Is that an answer or a question?” He smirks, still holding onto you.
“Answer. It was an answer.” You regain your confidence, smiling back at him.
“Alright,” he slowly lets go of your arm, almost reluctantly, “what are you two speeding around for?” He finally addresses Steve. Steve looks between the two of you, seemingly baffled.
“Places to be,” Steve says slowly, his eyes still on you.
“Oh,” Bucky seems to be surprised. He turns away from Bucky to face you. “Oh.” He suddenly looks uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll leave you guys at it.” He looks towards Steve again, offering a small smile and nod before leaving.
You and Steve watch as he walks away. “You were supposed to trip Nat, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off.
“And didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t trip Bucky?” He adds, walking down the hall you two were heading down.
“I technically didn’t. I ran right into him.” You respond dryly.
“Yeah, I guess.” You follow up right beside him. “It’s a shame that would’ve been perfect. It was just the wrong girl.” He looks toward you, giving you an indecipherable look.
“Yeah,” you look down at your shoes, “the wrong girl.”
-
It turns out that, despite having good plans for missions, Steve actually really sucked at coming up with good plans to get Natasha and Bucky together.
You two didn’t even get a chance to trip Natasha. You somehow failed the mission before you made it into a room. Granted, you imagine that if you successfully made it to Nat and tripped her, it would have been a whole lot worse.
So, you two were out of ideas.
“Why don’t we just wait til Nat leaves to talk to him?” You ask, tapping your pencil’s eraser onto the Bucky stick figure’s head.
“Because Buck doesn’t even have her personal number yet.” Steve takes away your pencil, getting annoyed with the constant tapping noise.
“What? How do you know? Did you ask him?” You immediately sit up, firing questions at him.
“I didn’t need to ask him. He has like four contacts on his personal phone. I figured you would ask me to make sure, so yes, I did ask him.” Steve nods.
“I’m not sure whether to take offense at that. Anyway,” You tap your hands onto the desk. “Idea! Okay, so what if we stage something for them? I have Nat’s personal number. You have Bucky’s right?” You look at Steve optimistically.
“I do.” He responds, not matching your enthusiasm.
“Perfecttt,” You grin. “So maybe we just talk to them and casually mention that ‘Oh, I have their number! Ya know, in case you want it.’ That way, they can stay in touch while Nat is gone.”
Steve looks doubtful, “That’s your idea?”
You lean back, offended, “It’s better than you telling me to trip her!” You cross your arms. “Come on, you’ll just have to talk to Nat and casually add at some point that you have Bucky’s number. Make sure it seems natural. She’ll know if the change in topic seems too abrupt. Meanwhile, I’ll go talk to Bucky, give him Nat’s phone number.” You smile at Steve.
He looks at you, frowning, but he eventually nods. “Alright.”
You hide your joy at your victory, standing up to leave the room. As you begin your search to find him, you’re hit with a wave of dread. Dread that had been previously there, but subdued.
Hanging out with Steve helped you forget that you were setting up your crush with one of your friends. Now it’s getting real. You have an actual plan, and you were so happy that you thought of an actual idea that you almost forgot what exactly you were setting up.
Despite every bone pleading in your body to stay, to not go through with this, you go. You go because you know this is what he wants. This is what will make him happy.
It has to.
-
The next day, you and Steve decided to enact your plan. You had pretty high hopes, after all, there’s not really a way it could fail. Well, they could decline the numbers, but you throw out that possibility.
It was early in the afternoon when you and Steve split up. Knowing Bucky’s schedule (which is not weird at all, he’s your friend) came to be very useful in this situation. There he was, in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. You stare at him for a minute before approaching him.
“Hey,” you grin at him.
He looks startled by your presence, immediately standing up straighter and clearing his throat. “Hey,” he returns your greeting.
“Haven’t seen you alone in a minute.” You start off casually. You don’t want to immediately throw Natasha’s number in his face. You gotta build up to it.
He smirks, “Could say the same about you.”
You chuckle, “Fair enough.” You place yourself on the counter next to him. He watches you the entire time. “So,” you tap your finger on the counter, “how’ve you been?”
He shrugs, “Could be better, could be worse. You?” He looks down.
“I’m alright.” You nod, quickly realizing you aren’t sure how you’ll continue this conversation.
A long moment of silence goes by, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, you almost find yourself enjoying it. You try to look at him a few times, but he continues to stare down at his feet.
“Sorry about the other night.” He breaks the silence.
You turn toward him, slightly confused. “Sorry for..?”
“Dinner,” he clarifies, gesturing a hand out, “and the next day.”
“Oh,” you respond, blinking in surprise. “It’s fine, really. We all moved on.” You place a hand on his shoulder casually. You feel him relax slightly under your touch, almost as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“I know, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to bring it up. I just,” he looks at you, “I didn’t mean to push the topic so hard.”
You shake your head, “Bucky, don’t worry about it. In your defense, we were also kinda pushy too.” You rub his shoulder.
“Yeah, but we started the conversation.” Bucky insists. Does he want you to be mad at him?
“How about we compromise? We are both at fault.” You suggest, he seems hesitant to accept it, but you give him a pleading look. “Please? For me?” You ask.
He scoffs before turning back to you and sighing, “For you.”
You grin at him, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “Great! Now that we have that out of the way, I have something you might be interested in.” So maybe you're a little impatient.
Bucky raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He watches as you scroll through your phone.
“So, Steve tells me you do not have a certain someone’s number in your contact list.” You smirk at him, hiding your screen.
Bucky frowns, “I have all of your guys’ numbers.”
You shake your head, “No, I meant on your personal phone.”
“Oh,” he says dumbly. “Uh, yeah, I guess not.” He mutters.
“Well, I guess you can thank me later.” You scroll down to show Natasha’s number, turning your screen towards him. Her name isn’t visible on the screen, but he knows who this is for.
He blinks slowly at the screen for a moment before turning toward you, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah! I mean it’s always good to expand your contacts with new friends.” You shrug.
He shakes his head, amused, “I guess so.” You watch as he enters the number into his contact before he starts typing her nam-
That’s not her name.
“What… What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he types your name onto the contact that is definitely Natasha’s number.
He frowns at you, confused, “Adding your contact?”
You gape at him as he continues to stare at you, confusion clear in his eyes. “Oh, that’s uh,” you clear your throat, “that’s Nat’s number.” You clarify.
He looks down at the screen, which has your name plastered clearly onto it. “Oh.” He slowly erases it before putting “Natasha” on his phone. Well, at least they don’t have cute nicknames for each other. You might’ve jumped off the tower if that were the case.
“Sorry about the confusion,” you look back down at your phone, slightly embarrassed.
“No, no, it’s okay.” He chuckles as he puts a hand on your shoulder, helping diffuse the tension. He nudges your foot, making you look up at him. “How about I get yours too? After all, I’d like to ‘expand my contacts.’” He holds out his phone, his number reflected on the screen.
You look up at him, instantly feeling your face heat up once you see the smirk on his face. Remembering why you are here, you compose yourself before adding a new contact labeled “Bucky.” You text him a simple “hi” to make sure he gets your number as well.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” You literally feel your heart rate skyrocket.
You nudge his foot, and he laughs, “Bold move there, Barnes.” You look away so that he can’t see the pure fondness in your eyes.
“Worked, didn’t it?” He opens your message, holding it up like it’s a damn trophy.
You exhale, not able to withhold your smile, “Yeah, yeah, it did.”
-
Later that night, you meet up with Steve.
You walk into your meeting room with a smile on your face, “I take it somebody was successful?” Steve asks, leaning back in his chair.
“Yeah, mission successful.” You take a seat next to him. “How’d yours go?”
Steve gives a long exhale, “She got it.”
You nudge him, “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”
“It wasn’t bad,” he shakes his head. “She was just very hesitant,” he taps the arm rest mindlessly, “and confused.” He adds on. “You run into any issues?”
“Not really, he did ask for my number as well. Figured he wants to get past those four contacts you mentioned. Perhaps he’ll reach ten by the end of the month.” You joke.
“He asked or you offered?” Steve tilts his head at you.
“Does it matter? He asked and then said, and I quote, he wanted to ‘expand his contacts.’” You do air quotes as you speak.
Steve looks down at the ground in front of you, contemplative. “You good?” You ask, and his eyes snap back to you.
“Fine. How would we know if Nat texts Steve or vice versa?” He leans against the desk.
You shrug, “We won’t.”
“So there’s a chance that all of that was for nothing?” Steve walks over to the desk.
“It’s not for nothing, don’t be dramatic.” You sigh, at least for you it wasn’t. Steve watches you through his peripherals. “At least my plan has the potential to work. Your plan failed before we even got them in the same room together.” You frown at him, offended.
“That’s because you bumped into Bucky!” Steve points a finger at you.
“That’s because I was trying to keep up with you! You were walking beyond what anybody would consider a ‘normal speed.’” You do air quotes.
He rubs his temples, and you lean into your chair. “What are we doing?” He asks. You aren’t sure if he’s asking you or himself.
“I assumed you were the one with the answer.” You stare at the ceiling. You feel Steve give you that same “Really?” look he loves to give.
“Alright, let’s just wait til tomorrow.” Steve leans against the desk. “We’ll wait til Nat is gone, and then we can talk to him.
“Alright,” you nod, “sounds good to me.” You sit up straight.
“Meet here at eight tomorrow.” Steve looks at you.
You give him a mock salute, “Yes, Cap.” He kicks your foot.
“Get out of here.” He rolls his eyes, but there is a smile on his face.
You bid him goodbye before making your way out of your meeting room. On the way out, you decide to grab a quick snack. You grab some chips from the cabinet before closing it and turning around.
“Oh my— Geez, Nat.” You jump as you see Natasha appear behind you. “Scared me.” You lean your elbows against the counter.
“Sorry,” you note that she doesn’t sound very apologetic, “just wanted to ask you something.”
You stand up straighter. Is this something serious? “What’s up?”
“We were planning on going for a walk later. Perhaps we can get something after, do you want to join us?” Natasha smirks.
Not serious. All that for a not-so-serious question. “Sur-”
“Oh, Steve is coming.” You blink at her interjection. “Just thought you should know.”
“Oh, okay?” You laugh. Did Steve just decide not to mention this? That’s odd, you were just with him. “Yeah, sure.”
“Great,” Natasha smiles before starting to walk away, “meet us in the lobby at seven.” She says over her shoulder before disappearing from sight.
You stand there alone in the kitchen, chips forgotten, “Okay?”
You decided to go back to your room after the strange encounter, not thinking much about it. You tidy up your room a bit and scroll on your phone for a bit. Before you know it, it is time to go. You grab your stuff before heading to the elevator and descending to the lobby.
“Hey guys,” You smile at Natasha and Steve. “We ready to go?”
“Waiting on Buck,” Steve responds, looking towards the elevator as it opens to reveal a person who is decidedly not Bucky.
“Oh,” You weren’t aware he was coming. Actually, you feel substantially worse now that you know he’s coming. Did Natasha invite you and Steve to third wheel?
“Don’t worry, we’ll give you two plenty of space,” Natasha smirks, giving you a small wink.
You blink, “Okay?” You whisper to yourself. Bucky finally appears once the elevator opens again, and he walks over to you three.
“Sorry about that, ready?” He smiles at you and Steve before you all agree to leave.
You let Bucky and Natasha lead for a bit before turning to Steve, “You didn’t mention that you planned this.” You whisper to him.
He turns towards you, frowning. “I thought you planned this. Buck told me you were coming, so I thought you had some plan.”
You both turn toward Bucky and Natasha, then back to each other. “They got us.” You sigh.
“No, we can work with this.” Steve tries optimistically.
“We can try.” You mumble tiredly.
The four of you walk around the city, eventually getting to the park. Natasha seems to attempt to make eye contact with you on multiple occasions. You offer her a small thumbs-up. At least things seem to be going well for her and Bucky. You and Steve haven’t needed to do anything.
“I have an idea.” You nudge Steve. “You see them on the bridge over there?” You gesture over to where Bucky and Natasha are talking on the bridge. “Let’s offer to take photos for them.” You smile at him.
“That’s an… idea.” Steve watches as you pull out your phone.
“Come on, let’s go.” You elbow him before heading over to the bridge.
“Hey! You two want a photo together?” You walk up to them, phone in hand.
Bucky freezes before turning around to face you. Even Natasha looks startled. You smile at him innocently, holding up your phone with the camera app.
“Do we get a choice—”
You cut Bucky off, “Annnnd smile!” You take various photos of them.
“Put your hand on her shoulder, Buck,” Steve calls out from beside you.
“Are we photographing a family portrait?” Bucky retorts, amusement in his tone.
“A future one, maybe.” You whisper to yourself, slightly bitter.
“Okay, done.” You give them a thumbs up. “Those were so cute, you two. I’ll send them to you both.” You smile at them. The sooner you send them, the sooner they are out of your gallery. Those are not photos you need to keep in your phone, for your sanity’s sake.
The four of you continue to trek your way through the park. At some point, Natasha and Steve get caught up talking about the mission she’s leaving on.
“There are ducks over there.” Bucky finds his way next to you.
You turn to where he’s pointing, seeing five, maybe six ducks on the shore of the lake. “Oh my goodness,” you frantically pull out your phone. You were honestly surprised that Bucky remembered that you liked taking photos of animals.
“Want me to take a picture of you with them?” Bucky asks.
You slowly pull your phone down, “Oh, sure.” You hand him your phone.
He steps back, and you let him take a few pictures of you with the ducks. “Thanks, Bucky.” You smile.
“It’s no issue at all.” He smiles.
You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, but you grab his shoulder and pull him next to you.
“What are you—”
“Smile!” You snap probably a dozen selfies of you and him in front of the ducks. He initially looks stunned by your action, but then he eventually gives the camera a small smile.
“Aw, these are cute.” You say scrolling through the photos. “Look at how shocked you look in this one!” You turn around to show him your phone, only to find he’s already been staring at the photos from over your shoulder.
“Send those to me.” He whispers, his voice right next to your ear.
“Of course.” You smile at him.
“Hey!” Natasha’s voice catches both of your attention. “Where’ve you two been?” She asks, frowning.
You point your thumb to the ducks behind you two, “Oh,” she looks towards Bucky. “Well, come on, we were going to go get ice cream.” She walks away before either of you responds.
Despite your actual objective having no progression, with Steve talking with Natasha and you talking with Bucky, you’d say that the whole adventure was pretty fun. By this point, it was pretty dark, so the group decided to wrap things up.
You guys walk to a small ice cream shop a couple of streets away from the tower. Steve and Nat go in first to order. You tell the worker what you’d like before Bucky comes along.
“I’ll have chocolate chip cookie dough.” He tells the employee. You all decided to get cups this time around. Once Bucky gets his ice cream, you all pay before walking out.
You happily enjoy your ice cream, and you feel almost at peace right now. You could almost forget the fact that you and Steve are probably intruding on what could’ve been a date. Bucky and Natasha do such a good job of hiding their relationship that you almost think they aren’t dating. Bucky has actually spent more time next to you this trip than anyone else.
“Your ice cream good?” You walk up to Bucky. He nods, “Wanna try?” He asks, tilting his cup towards you.
This means nothing. This means nothing. This means nothing. “Sure!” You take your spoon and get a small bit of his ice cream before eating it. “Oooh, that is good!”
He chuckles, “You want more?”
You shake your head, “Nah, it’s okay.” You tilt your cup towards him. “Do you wanna try mine?” You try not to think too much about what you offer.
He seems hesitant to accept, but you offer him a warm smile as if you want him to try it. “Sure.” He gets a small bit of your ice cream. “That’s good.” You smile, happy he enjoyed your choice.
You eventually cave under Bucky’s persistent offers to share the ice cream. By the time you both finish, you realize you basically just split ice cream. You failed to notice how Steve gave you both odd looks as you shared ice cream. Before you know it, the four of you arrive at the tower and are crowding into the elevator.
“Well, I’m done for the night,” Steve says as you guys walk out into the common area.
“Yeah, that was fun though.” You add, and everybody murmurs in agreement.
You all bid each other goodnight, and you start to get ready for bed. Right as you plop into bed, ready to knock out for the night, you check your phone. Who is texting you at—
Hey, so I noticed you haven’t sent me those photos we took by the ducks. Do you mind sending them?
Instantly awake, you grip your phone, staring at the message. Do you open it now? What if he thinks it’s weird that you read his message so fast? Does he even care if you read his message immediately? Does he know general texting etiquette like that?
Oh shoot my bad
You attach the photos and send the best ones you could find.
I only sent you the best ones :)
You stare at your phone, watching as the bubble appears, showing he is typing.
Just the best ones? I’m sure all of them are perfect. Send them all.
You instantly feel your face heat up, and you kick your feet against the bed. Damn, you are glad he can’t see you acting like this.
Please.
You snort as he adds on that last text. It’s okay, though. Nobody is in your room. Nobody can judge if you act a little crazy.
Alright, but don’t blame me if they’re bad lol
You attach all the photos you guys took in front of the ducks.
Sorry I may have spammed the camera without thinking. There’s a lot.
You watch as he types his next response out.
That’s okay. Thanks.
You decide to heart the message, and then put your phone down, thinking that’s the end of the conversation. You look up at the ceiling with a massive grin on your face. You turn off all the lights and get under the covers when you hear it: a vibration.
Instantly, your hand shoots out from under the blankets into the cold air, grabbing hold of your phone.
Don’t you find it funny how Nat made us all go out to get away from work, and then proceeded to talk to Steve about work for the whole walk?
You stare at the message, an actual conversation?
Omg fr I was like bro come on why did they ditch us like that??
You eagerly await the next message. You watch the texting bubble.
I haven’t heard “fr” yet. What does that mean?
You beam at the screen.
-
You walk into the meeting spot right on time, rubbing your eyes.
“Okay, so— What happened to you?” Steve starts out before frowning at your disheveled state.
“I was up late.” You respond shortly.
“I knocked out last night. How long were you up til?” He asks.
“Like two? Maybe three?” You shrug, sitting down in one of the chairs.
“Doing what?” He asks, you didn’t realize he was so nosy.
“On my phone. Anyway,” You wave a hand for him to continue his original rant.
“What could you be doing on your phone that late?” He asks, frowning.
“Watching videos, doomscrolling.” You say, trying to ignore the voice in your head saying, “I was texting Bucky for hours, my bad.”
He looks at you, “Alright, well, maybe avoid doing that.”
“Yes, sir, Captain.” You spin in your chair twice before stopping. “Alright, now what is this plan you wanted to tell me about?”
He sighs, “As I was saying, Natasha is already gone by this point. Her mission shouldn’t take more than a day, as it’s pretty close to New York. I will talk to Bucky and try to open him up to the idea of a relationship.” You nod along to his plan.
“Then, later that day, you will just casually bring it up to him. Maybe even mention Nat by name. We won’t do it immediately, though. We don’t want him to think our efforts are coordinated. Let it roll around in his head for a bit. This is where you come in. You bring up dating again. Make him think ‘Wow, two people are telling me I should date somebody? Maybe I should.’ By this point, it’ll be night, and he’ll fall asleep thinking of Nat. Then I come around the next morning, and he agrees to let us help him get with Nat.” Steve gives a proud smile at the end of his plan.
You blink at him slowly, your brain still sluggish. “Yeah, sure.”
Steve smiles, “Oh, come on, give me more than that. It’s a good plan.”
“It’s a plan.” You say dryly. “Let’s just hope it works.” You stand up.
“It will, trust me. Okay, as for specific timing, I will go talk to Bucky now. You will wait at least six hours before talking to him.” Steve checks the time.
“Alright,” You give a small smile, “if this works though, Bucky owes us bigtime.”
“Oh hell yeah, he does.”
-
You went about your day normally. You didn’t really want to think about how you were going to approach Bucky. Hours and hours passed until you eventually got the text from Steve. “It’s time.” It read, perhaps a bit ominous for your liking.
You walk around the tower in search of Bucky, and surprisingly, it doesn’t take long to find him. You walk into the common area, having zero expectations, and find yourself staring at Bucky on the couch.
He looks up straight at you, and you’re both frozen in place. For some reason, you get this feeling that he expected you.
“Hey,” You greet him, walking over slowly.
“Hey,” He returns, and it’s so quiet.
“Mourning the absence of the other half?” You joke, leaning onto the couch opposite him.
He raises an eyebrow, “Steve? Didn’t realize he left the tower.”
Thrown off guard, you frown, “What? I meant Nat.”
He nods slowly, glancing at the elevator before nodding, “Right,” he draws out.
“How’ve you two been anyway?” You ask, taking a seat on the couch, facing him.
“Nat and I? Fine?” He seems a bit puzzled by the question, but answers it regardless.
You cross your legs, leaning onto the armrest, “Just ‘fine?’”
He frowns, shrugging, but nodding nonetheless.
You open your mouth to speak, but hesitate. He’s looking at you, and it feels like he can read your mind. Does he know how much you hate this? He couldn’t. This whole time, you haven’t struggled with aiding Steve in this operation. You’ve been doing well. Pull yourself together.
You shake your head inconspicuously before continuing, “You’d be cute together, you know.” Your voice doesn’t stutter, and it sounds confident.
Bucky’s mouth parts, as if surprised by the assessment. “You think?”
You nod, fidgeting with the fabric of the couch in order to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, I mean, you two spend a lot of time together. She’s badass, you’re badass. Power couple, ya know?”
You feel Bucky smirk at your comment, “You think I’m badass?” He chuckles.
You turn to look at him reproachfully, “That’s what you took from that?”
“I heard the rest, don’t worry.” His smirk widens.
You debate throwing a pillow at him, “Yeah huh.”
“I’m serious. What, you don’t believe me?” He shakes his head, as if offended. You know he isn’t.
“No, not really.” You can’t help the smile that appears on your lips.
He chuckles lowly, “That’s painful, sweetheart.” He gives a quick glance at the elevator.
You have to stay focused. Do not look at Bucky. Do not look at Bucky. That’s just how he is. You can’t help but think back to how Steve said Bucky was always the one who set up dates for him. If this was how Bucky talked to girls back then, you would’ve also caved.
“You’ll live, sweetheart.” You mock him, if only to detract attention from your embarrassment. You await his laughter, perhaps a scoff, or even an overly exaggerated sigh.
Instead, he remains silent. You turn to look at him, but he just seems frozen, staring at you. The moment your eyes meet, he laughs, but it sounds strained. You raise an eyebrow at his odd behavior.
Suddenly, the elevator rings out. You don’t think much of it, but Bucky gives it an oddly conflicted look. Relieved? Pained? You can’t tell. Then you turn around.
Natasha walks in, and you feel your brain short-circuit. You watch, trying to hide your obvious shock, as Natasha walks over to where Bucky is. They greet each other casually, as if you aren’t there. Ouch.
You guess that Steve was wrong.
It’s fine. Really, it’s okay. It’s okay. Steve didn’t exactly give you a backup plan on what to do. This is going great.
Eventually, Natasha turns to greet you, and you smile at her. “I didn’t realize your mission would be so quick.”
She gives a knowing smirk, “I left last night so I could finish it early.”
“Oh,” you respond eloquently. “Welcome back.” You aren’t feeling very “welcome” yourself, but that’s not important right now.
“Thanks,” she takes a seat on the couch next to Bucky.
You look between the two of them. Sorry Steve.
“Well, I’ll leave you two—”
“You and Steve? How’ve you been?” Natasha smiles, crossing her legs.
“Uh,” you glance between her and Bucky, “Good. Good? I guess? I can’t speak for him.”
“You can’t?” Natasha raises an eyebrow, clearly doubting your statement.
“No? Should I?” You frown.
Natasha sighs, “Look, we wanted to catch you on your own since we concluded that you’re less clueless than Steve.”
You blink, “Thanks?” You don’t like where this is headed. You need to get out.
“As your friends,” Natasha gestures between her and Bucky, “we feel obligated to help you.”
“Did you two plan this?” You ask them. Both of them ignore your question, but Bucky decidedly avoids your eyes.
“Look, we saw you two talking.” Bucky leans forward from his spot on the couch. “And it’s,” he looks away, “agonizing seeing you two dance around each other.”
You gape at Bucky, “You are severely misinterpreting what you saw.”
“You guys have been meeting in one of the old storage rooms.” Natasha deadpans.
“You are…” You point to Nat, “also misinterpreting that.”
“Really?” Bucky responds detachedly.
“Yes. Whatever you guys are seeing is not what you think.” You sit up straighter.
Bucky scoffs, and Natasha gives a long sigh. “Fine, live in denial.” He looks directly into your eyes. You take a deep breath as he shakes his head, “I- We will be here when you want to tell us the truth.” Bucky stands up, ready to walk away.
You furrow your eyebrows, “You aren’t going to believe anything I say, are you?”
“I’ve seen you two.” He seethes.
You shake your head, looking away from him. “Fine, believe whatever you want.” You toss your hands up in the air. “If you want to believe I’m sneaking around with Steve, you can believe that. I told you the truth. It’s your choice whether you want to believe that.” Bucky seems to falter at your words.
You don’t wait to hear what they have to say next before you walk off. Of course, you had to be the one they confronted. Couldn’t be Steve, no.
You make it back to your room, closing the door behind you. You pull out your phone.
They think we’re sneaking around together
You don’t even have to wait a minute before Steve responds.
What?
You flop onto your bed.
Bucky and Nat think we’re trying to hide some secret relationship or something
This time, you wait a bit longer for a response.
How? How could they possibly come to that conclusion? Did Bucky tell you?
Bucky and Nat told me. They’re both here.
She’s back already?
Yupppp, I think they planned to confront me about this. She left for her mission early. She not tell you?
Not a word.
He sends another text immediately after:
I’ll talk to her.
You groan, throwing your phone onto the mattress before grabbing a pillow and slamming it onto your face.
-
You lean against the wall, waiting for Steve’s door to open. You had gone to sleep that night, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of whatever that was. Steve hadn’t said anything after his last text.
You have your phone in your hand, and you tap the side of it anxiously. The door opens up, and you immediately move to greet Steve.
“What happened?” You ask, making him stumble.
“Jesus, how long have you been there?” He asks.
“Like twenty minutes,” you follow him as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Now what happened?”
He starts to make himself a smoothie, and you lean on the counter watching. “I talked to Nat.”
You raise your eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue. “Okay? Details?”
He sighs, “I told her that we aren’t in a relationship.”
“Did she believe you?” You grab an apple from the counter.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Seemed like it?”
“‘Seemed like it?’” You take a bite of the apple.
“Yeah, I dunno.” He grabs the ice tray from the freezer.
“How are you so calm about this?” You watch him in disbelief.
Steve pauses his movement, looking up at you, conflicted.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” He puts all items down on the counter, giving you his full attention.
“What?” You blink.
“About Bucky.” He almost looks sympathetic.
“What are you talking about?” Is he implying what you think he’s implying?
“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “Don’t play stupid.”
You remain silent.
“When you bumped into him in the hallway, I thought it was odd. He was acting bizarre.” Smoothie forgotten, he moves closer to you to keep your conversation quiet.
“I thought maybe it was a fluke, but then you told me that he gave you his number.” He gives a small chuckle. “He is picky with who he adds to his contacts.”
Suddenly, your mouth feels dry. You can’t form words; you can only listen as Steve lists out the different pieces of evidence.
“Then he shared his ice cream with you.” Steve shakes his head at you.
You look down, away from his unwavering stare. “We’re just good friends?” You respond, but even you’re questioning it.
“I’m his best friend, you don’t see me scooping ice cream out of his cup.” Steve deadpans. You cover your face with your hands.
“Were you ever going to say anything?” Steve asks softly, a frown on his face.
“I dunno, you sounded so convinced that he’d be happy with Nat, I tried to ignore it.” You mumble into your hands.
“I wouldn’t have done any of this if I knew you actively liked him.” Steve sighs.
You shake your head, “I didn’t think it mattered. You’re his best friend. If you thought he liked Nat, then that was probably the most likely scenario.”
Steve leans against the counter, “This is a mess now.” He says softly.
You laugh humorlessly. “Yep.”
He turns to you, “Are you going to do anything about it?”
You give a dead stare to the fridge in front of you, “Nope.”
Steve looks like he was slapped, and it’d be funny in literally any other situation. “So you’re just going to leave him with Nat?”
“Yeah,” You look down at the ground.
He remains silent for a moment before standing up straight. “I gotta go.”
You blink, “What—”
“I’ll talk to you later!” He calls out, pulling out his phone.
You look at the cluttered counter, “Your smoothie?” You look at the forgotten ingredients.
“Guess I’m making one now.” You sigh, picking up where he left off.
-
After your talk with Steve, you pretty much locked yourself in your room for the rest of the day. Was it sad? Absolutely. However, you didn’t have the energy to face any of the people involved in whatever that was. The chances of seeing those people are pretty high, seeing as they live here, so yeah, you stayed in your room.
You didn’t get any texts from anybody (not that you were checking). So, you put on some of your comfort movies and watched those for most of the day.
Steve didn’t come to say anything, which you do find a bit surprising. You expected at least a text of “You okay?” He seemed concerned about your feelings earlier. Perhaps he realized that you and Bucky were a hopeless case. Which, yeah, true, but it still hurts.
You couldn’t help but rethink the past few days. When Steve laid it out like he did, it really seemed like Bucky could’ve liked you. You had ignored the signs because, well, Natasha was right there. Despite everything that’s happened, you still have that infinitesimally small spark of hope that he returned your affection.
You pull out your phone, the movie droning on in the background. You open photos and see the selfies you took with Bucky. You tap on the first one, smiling at how unprepared he looked. You scrolled through some of them until you stopped at one.
It wasn’t one of the ones you had originally considered the best. After all, he wasn’t looking at the camera. What made you pause is where he is looking.
You.
He was looking at you.
You had a smile on your face, staring at the camera, oblivious to his gaze. The look he gave you wasn’t something you recognized. It wasn’t a look he gave Natasha, nor a look he gave Steve.
You dare to say it looks lovesick. The same emotions that had you giggling and kicking your feet late at night. The same emotions that had you avert your gaze when the word “sweetheart” was uttered by him. The same emotions that had you texting until early mornings, awaiting a response instead of sleeping.
You favorite the photo, immediately hiding your screen as if somebody would see you.
A loud knock startles you, and you stand up, frantically throwing your phone (which lands safely on your mattress). You approach the door to see Steve there.
“Hi?” You ask, looking at his hand still raised to knock.
“Hello,” he puts his hand down, “so I may have done something.” He whispers to you.
“Okay?” You raise an eyebrow.
“So, remember how we were talking about Bucky earlier?” He asks.
How could you not? “Eh, maybe a little.” You respond sarcastically.
“I made a plan.” He looks at you proudly. “For you two, not Nat.”
You look at him in horror, “All of your plans for helping him with Nat were awful. How is this going to be any better?”
“Uncalled for, but this is good, I promise.” He gives you a small smile.
“Okay,” you look at him doubtfully.
“I told him I’d meet him in the common area to hang out in fifteen minutes. However, I want you to be there before then. He will be expecting me, and then see you. Then you two can hash out.” He leans against your door.
You look at him, blinking. “You serious?”
“Yes. I figured it’s the least I owe you for making you suffer through all of that.” He waves his hand as he talks about the past. You stand there speechless. “You might wanna go now, no rush.” He gives you a smirk before leaving you standing at the door.
You turn around and zip around the room, you try to make yourself slightly presentable with the less than fifteen minutes Steve gave you. You are about to walk out of your room before you decide at the last second to grab your phone.
You walk to the common area, taking deep breaths. You eventually pick a couch to sit on, pulling out your phone so that at least if somebody (Bucky) walks by, you aren’t staring at nothing. You stare at your reflection on the screen, feeling your heart race.
The couple of minutes you sit there feel like an eternity. While waiting, you open every app on your phone before closing it seconds later. Maybe this was a terrible idea. Perhaps Steve is making a mistake, and wouldn’t that be soul-crushing?
Minutes go by before you hear them: footsteps. You fight the urge to look up as they approach.
He says your name.
You look up casually, as if you haven’t been waiting for his arrival. “Oh, hey, Bucky.” You smile at him, giving him a slight wave with your phone. You both remain silent.
You try not to watch as he slowly makes his way over to the couch opposite you. He sits down, and your gaze flickers to him a few times. You should put your phone down. You should definitely put your phone down. The issue with that is it’s the only thing protecting you from just blatantly staring at him.
“I believe you.” He breaks the silence after what felt like minutes.
You look up to him, confused.
He meets your gaze, “The other night. When I thought you were with Steve.” He clarifies.
“Oh,” you pause, “don’t worry. I’m sure the situation did look weird from an outsider's perspective.”
“That shouldn’t have mattered.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve believed you, I was just…” He looks away. “Steve is my best friend. He looked happy with you. You two would sneak away and meet up secretly. I wanted him to be happy. He hasn’t found somebody who made him act like that since Peggy. I thought that maybe you’d be the one.” He looks up at you. “And I know, I know, that isn’t what you two had. I just made an assumption, a bad one.”
“You were upset that I was taking away that potential happiness from him?” You begin to understand.
“No.” He instantly says, “I mean, yes, but that wasn’t the main reason.”
You take a deep breath, digesting the information. “Because of me.” You whisper.
He gives you a tired smile, “I thought that maybe if I made Steve happy, that would triumph over the ache I felt for you. When you rejected the idea of getting with Steve,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to do. I assumed you didn’t like me because you never attempted to do the things you did with him with me. You never snuck away to talk to me, never conspired with me like you did with him or anything. I figured it was a lost cause and damage control by that point.”
“You liked me?” The words are a question, but your tone makes it sound like a statement. He nods slowly.
You stare at him before leaning back and covering your eyes with your hand. “I know, please don’t feel obligated to—”
“I liked you too, but I thought you liked Nat.” You say, abashed.
That makes him stop talking instantly. “What?”
“You were talking with her that one night, Steve and I happened to see it at the same time. He started telling me how he couldn’t believe you two weren’t dating.” You chuckle, looking up at Bucky’s astonished expression.
“So we came up with a lot of plans,” you continue, “to try and get you two together. It failed, obviously.” You gesture between you both.
Bucky rubs his temples before leaning forward from his spot on the couch. “You aren’t joking?”
You smile, but it comes out more like a grimace, ”I wish.”
“That night,” he starts slowly, “we saw you two plotting. Nat instantly spotted it. She told me she had been wanting to set him up with somebody.” You feel your stomach drop. There’s no way this story goes where you think it’s going.
“She told me how cute it’d be if you two got together, and well,” he gestures to the room around him.
“That night she came over and asked if I wanted to join you guys on a walk…” You shake your head.
“Her idea.” He responds dryly. “I assume the phone number thing was one of your guys’ plans?”
“Yeah,” you respond, laughing in disbelief.
He stands up, watching you. You copy his movement, moving closer to him. Neither of you looks away, staring at one another as if the other will vanish once eye contact breaks. “I can’t believe…” He chuckles. “This whole time?” He slowly reaches his vibranium hand up to cup your face. The moment the metal touches you, he flinches back, as if forgetting it wasn’t his flesh one. You grab it before he can pull away, slowly bringing it back to your face.
He gently cups your face before freezing, “Wait, do you still like me?” He looks genuinely concerned.
You smile, stepping closer, “I never stopped.”
He leans in, and before you know it, the gap between you two is nonexistent. You feel your heart beating faster than ever. This time, however, it’s not out of stress or fear. You think that maybe this is it, you are going to melt under his touch, but he holds you firm and in place as if to tell you he will be there to support you. You find yourself relaxing in his hold. Love, the word places invades your thoughts as if it always belonged. It cements itself in the trenches of your mind. All those times you doubted who felt what now feel insignificant. The moment feels like it lasts less than a second, but oh— how you wish it was your eternity.
He pulls back, a smile on his face.
-
“I swear you guys can’t pull this every damn dinner.” Tony points his fork around the table. “You did this last time, where you start off quiet, and then end with unsubtle glares across the table. Please, we are better than this.” He sets his fork down.
You glance at Bucky, who is sitting across from you. As if sensing your gaze, he turns toward you, matching your expression.
“Oh, and now that is happening. Love it.” Tony remarks sarcastically.
“I take it things worked out.” Steve comments.
“You can say that.” You sneak a glance at Bucky before turning to Steve.
“Oh, kinda hate it actually,” Tony adds helpfully. “You know, when I said I was disappointed in you all for not telling me whatever you’re up to, I lied. I don’t think I want to know anymore.” He shakes his head as if trying to tune out the situation.
You roll your eyes, turning toward Bucky, who shakes his head at Tony. He meets your eyes and throws you a small wink.
“No, you really don’t.” You smirk at Tony.
The only reason that the last plan of Steve's worked is cause it wasn't his lmao. He 100% asked Nat for help. Bucky thought that you were "planning on meeting Nat" in the common area, and Nat told him to go meet you there.
Okay real side note, thank you SO much for all the support on my fics so far. I have no words. I read every single comment you guys leave (reblogged or not), and they bring me tremendous joy. Thank you so much for reading my work. I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog :D
summary: after two years of you talking into his ear, bucky meets the face behind the voice on the comms after a tricky mission.
pairing: tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader
insp by: an instagram reel from an art account that drew bucky on the phone with someone screaming at him…….. guys trust me my brain was thinking big things… also inspired by the goat penelope garcia!!!!!
word count: 10.1k… wowza… read at your own risk
content warnings: usual description of violence (blood and punching and stuff), being trapped under rubble, swearing, mentions of dying death and murder, very slightly suggestive content, explosions, guns and shooting
a/n: my first bucky fic!!!! for @opheliabbarnes since you got me hooked into bucky with all of your bucky propaganda and also becuade you cheated in my poll and used your bucky powers to make me write this. also guys for the sake of the book just imagine that bucky is working with sam and doesn’t divorce him
"comms are live. hello, can you hear me?"
a pause.
there's a static crackling that rings through your headset before bucky's voice comes in, low and gruff, "yeah, unfortunately."
"good morning to you too, barnes." you smirk as you lean back in your chair, the screens in front of you flickering to life one-by-one. "it's nice to hear that your sunshine and optimism lived to see another day."
"play nice, you two." sam warns, "we haven't even gotten inside."
"i am playing nice." you retort, "that was me being sweet."
"define sweet..." bucky grumbles. you're not sure whether he's forgotten you can hear everything he's saying or if he's doing it just to spite you— but you let it slide.
you glance over to a screen where you can see joaquin's boots— and only his boots— thanks to his poorly angled body cam. it's shaking like he's struggling with something.
"joaquin, you there? i think your mic's off."
"yeah, he's here. he just can't figure out his ear piece." sam sighs. you watch him step into joaquin's screen and grab something from his hands, "you just have to click the button, man. it's not that hard—"
there's an awful screeching noise that pulses through your headset. it sounds like someone had just murdered a sentient robot and then fed its screams through a megaphone.
you pull it off in a hurry, waiting until it goes silent, and then place it back onto your headset with a huff. "everybody just... stop touching things."
another screen immediately catches your eye. blotches of red and orange pop out amongst a deep blue background— heat signatures patrolling the perimeter of the building that sam, bucky, and joaquin are in. you watch as a handful of them enter the warehouse.
"we've got movement." you still up in your chair, zooming in as the thermal overlay focuses, "there's about four patrolling the west perimeter. there's five— no— seven of them have just entered through the east side of the first floor."
sam peaks around the corner, but he can't see much unless he wants to compromise their position. he pulls back, "super soldiers?"
"i can't tell. they move like it, but nothing’s confirmed." you narrow your eyes. your eyes flicker to a smaller screen and a controller that sits beside it, "i'm sending scout. incoming!"
from somewhere in the sky, a grey blur cuts across the roof of the warehouse. bucky rolls his eyes as he watches it zoom past.
on your screen, scout's POV snaps into focus— clear, high-res, infrared, and absolutely glorious. it’s practically your child. you guide the bot with a simple flick of your wrist.
a small drone no bigger than a tennis ball and stamped with a white 'S' on its side zips through the air like a wasp on a mission. it's virtually silent, zipping low as it peaks around the corner of the east wall.
"okay, they aren't armed, but—" you pause as you rotate scout, "wait, there's a truck pulling up on the east loading dock."
sam furrows his brows. they didn't plan for anything other than a simple surveillance and a couple catch and arrests. "can you see what's inside?"
you turn to another screen— a thermal drone that's zoomed into the truck. "one driver and one passenger. there's a few crates in the back, but i can't see what's in them. they must have some sort of cooling system because they're freezing."
joaquin glances between sam and bucky, "that has to be the serum, right?"
"this must be one of the meeting points for their buyers." sam says, "they're gonna be here any second."
"don't worry. i've got eyes on them." you cut in, fingers flicking across your keyboard as another feed pops up, "i'm guessing it's the four black range rovers approaching from the south along franklin street."
there's a pause, then bucky asks, "what's our game plan?"
he's not looking at sam or joaquin. he hasn't moved a muscle. his voice is low and steady, his eyes fixed straight ahead— like he's waiting for your voice to tell him what to do next.
and you don't hesitate.
"we need to seperate them from the buyers. if this is an exchange, they're going to have bodyguards. we can't have thirty armed criminals in one warehouse. can you handle that, torres?"
joaquin nods, "loud and clear."
without another word, he takes a running step off of the warehouse's broken wall. his wings snap out from his jet pack with a hiss, catching the wind as he flies south along franklin street. you watch his tracker blip across another screen, already zeroing in on the buyers.
"and you two have to take these guys out." you continue, focus turned on sam and bucky, "there's five on the perimeter, all armed. there's two that have just wandered off towards you guys. pick them off."
sam's voice crackles in, "i'll take the guys with the guns."
there's a pause—
"we can take the guys with the guns." he corrects himself a moment later— probably after a look from bucky.
"they're unloading the crates now. the truck is electric, so i think can stall it long enough for you guys to get close— maybe cut off their exit entirely. we still don't know if they're enhanced, so be careful and don't be stupid."
you watch sam's body cam as bucky turns to him, his voice flat through the comms, "yeah, sam."
sam scoffs and waved him off as he readjusts his shield, "i think she means you, man."
"i was just throwing it out there." you roll your eyes, fingers flying across your keyboard as you send joaquin backup, "torres has already contained the buyers, so you're up— go."
bucky's already moving before you can even finish your sentence, heavy boots almost silent against the concrete floor. sam vaults the barrier to his left, moving fast and low.
sam closes in. a pacing guard turns just a moment too late— sam drives his fist into the side of his face. he drives into another guard, sending him tumbling into a wall with a dull thud. another one spins around with a gasp. he fumbles for his weapon—
crack.
a metal fist drops him before he can even point it. bucky steps over the guy, barely slowing his pace or breaking a sweat. but then another guard rounds the corner— one who doesn't fumble with his gun— and shoots.
you look over to another screen. the thermal camera shows more figures closing in on sam and bucky, clearly on high alert. the tension in their movements show that they're panicked. the four crates that had been unloaded were now being covered back up.
"you've got six of them heading your way, and fast." you scramble. the truck's screen is visible on your screen, but your software is still trying to figure out the password, "they're unarmed, but be careful."
sam's wing fans out in a practiced motion and shields them both from the bullets. the shots ping right off of the reinforced metal. his wing retreats, and the guard looks terrified. he tries to reload the gun, but he's struggling.
sam's voice comes through, dry but amused, "i guess we're past the stealth phase."
"i didnt like that phase anyways." bucky grunts as he shoves the guard against a wall. he makes a point by grabbing his gun and snapping it in half like a twig, tossing it out reach. he knocks the guy out with one swift punch to the jaw.
they're doing good— clearing the path with ease and making sure to be vigilant— but then they walk into the main area of the warehouse. it's wide open and humming with the sound of the truck and trailers shoving the crates back into the back, and there's at least a handful of masked figures standing there.
the six figures you had seen nearing sam and bucky are already stepping into the light of the warehouses main floor— calm, coordinated, and slightly intimidating.
each one is broad-shouldered and looks battle-worn. their body temperatures come up significantly warmer than both sam and bucky's, and you can tell something is wrong.
"you think they've taken the serum?" bucky shifts his stance, fists already clenched.
you watch as one of the men lurches forwards— blindingly fast— and throws sam across the room, far too fast for sam to catch himself. he hits a pillar, sliding down it with a groan.
"shit." you inhale.
"i think so!" sam yells, voice strained.
the rest of them charge. bucky's the first to meet them head-on. he lands a solid punch to one of their jaws— and it should've dropped him— but the guy just snarls, barely flinching, and drives his knee into bucky's stomach.
sam's back up, his shield snapping into place just quick enough to block a hit. he's fighting hard and moving fast, wings flicking around for balance and defence, but for every hit he dodges, there's another one right after.
you're watching the fight from a drone overhead like a game you can't control. youre working on trying to stall the truck, but it's difficult when youre also watching your friends get their asses beat.
sam takes out one guy with a swing of his wing and a nasty uppercut, but two more corner him. bucky slams a guy through a metal beam— literally through it— but it only buys him a second before another super soldier grabs him by his jacket and tosses him across the room, back slamming into a shelving unit.
then— like a miracle— a screen on your right starts beeping. a red dot farts across the radar, closing in on the warehouse. you spin in your chair to check the corresponding feed just as a figure cuts through the sky.
you grin, "torres incoming!"
not even a second later, joaquin bursts through one of the warehouse windows, wings flaring wide. his visor glints as he absolutely bodies two super soldiers like bowling pins just as one of them winds up to hit bucky again.
he lands with a thud, wings retracting quickly as he jogs up to sam. bucky is close behind, but he's still fighting off two super soldiers.
"about damn time." sam huffs.
bucky wipes the blood leaking from his nose, taking a moment to catch his breath, "what the hell took you so long?"
"traffic." he grins and holds his hand out for sam, who's literally holding on by a thread, trying to prop himself up with his shield, "was getting your asses kicked a part of the plan?"
sam groans as joaquin pulls him up, "don't push it, joaquin."
you're still watching the fight through various monitors. the comms are full of grunts and sharp breathes, but now that joaquin's there, they're struggling a little less.
and then there's a beep— a small, sad beep— and a window that says 'OVERRIDE FAILED' in big red letters. you freeze.
"they've locked me out of the truck's system. they're overriding my remote access." you scramble to restart the process, but it doesn't let you.
you glance at another screen. the camera feed confirms your worst fear— they're escaping. one of the super soldiers is climbing into the driver's seat, the rear doors slamming shut as the engine hums to life.
"they're taking off—" you panic as you watch the truck pull out of the warehouse driveway, "shit, someone stop that truck!"
before anyone can respond, bucky takes off in a full sprint— no hesitation, no plan, and clearly no intention of letting that truck get away or waiting for anyone. his boots pound against the asphalt as he trails it.
"barnes—" you call through the comms, stressed out of your mind.
you hadn't expected him to chase after it. he was the only one without wings or a jet pack, yet you watched him run after that truck like he was chasing all he's ever wanted. the panic in your voice doesn't help. if anything, it only pushes bucky harder.
he barrels out onto the street, only a few metres from the truck. you send a drone up ahead, the camera feed glitching as it races to keep up. you're trying to calculate every route the truck could take to evade capture— until your eyes land on a large clearing.
there's a river glittering under the sun, splitting the city in half. a large drawbridge stretches over it, connecting the two sides of land. just next to it, there's an enormous cargo ship waiting to cross— and your heart stops when you notice the bridge is already at a 70 degree angle.
"they're gonna jump the bridge, barnes." you quickly warn, "if they make it across before the split—"
"they're gone." he finishes, breathless but ready. you can hear his sharp breathes through your headset, "i'm not letting it get away. 'gonna jump it."
"fall back, barnes, you're not going to make it." you bark through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady. you watch as he speeds up, running faster than you've ever seen him run.
"you better listen to the lady, bucky." sam adds, wings slicing through the air as he tries to catch up.
you watch as the truck barrels forwards, climbing up the incline of the rising drawbridge like it's easy work. bucky's close— too close to stop. he digs his feet into the ground harder as he launches himself up the incline.
you can see it all through a drone— the truck about to leap, bucky on its tail, the bridge yawning wide open underneath them, and the water far below shining like teeth. the cargo ship blares its horn as it draws closer to the bridge, wary of what's happening.
it happens too fast—
the truck leaps across the gap. its front wheels leave the ground for just a split second before the back wheels follow, and then its airborne. behind it, bucky jumps too.
you're on your feet now, eyes locked onto the drone feed. your hands are braced on either side of the desk and your knuckles have gone bone-white. you're not breathing or thinking. you're not even sure if your heart is beating.
for a moment, he's airborne. then just as quickly, he's falling straight through the gap and into open air. the wind catches in his jacket, gravity yanking him down towards the water and the cargo ship below.
just before he hits the ship deck, a blur of red, white, and blue zips past— sam.
his wings flare as he dives, hooking one arm around bucky with precision, the two of them twisting mid-air as the momentum nearly sends them spiralling. they hover under the bridge for a moment before sam takes off towards solid ground.
you collapse in your chair and yank the joystick for scout, who zooms towards bucky and sam. its camera focuses, cutting through the haze of the sun to check on them.
"jesus christ, buck, are you okay?" you panic into your mic, already trying to see if he needs medical attention.
"i've caught the princess, he's safe." sam replies, smug as ever.
you lean in closer to the screen as scout zips around him, "are you injured? you might need to take your vest off so i can assess it and let medical know."
"take me to dinner first." he doesn't look thrilled about the rescue. he brushes off his jacket with a clenched jaw, then narrows in on scout, who's circling him. he flings his hand at it like a fly, "and get that stupid drone out of my face. it's ugly."
"rude." you frown, "he just risked his tiny propellor life to check up on you."
"yeah?" bucky asks flatly.
you narrow your eyes, "yeah."
bucky gives scout a fake smile and says an insincere 'thanks buddy'. then— without hesitation— bucky grabs scout mid-hover. you barely have time to shout at him before he launches scout straight up into the sky, spinning wildly and almost vanishing.
the feed spins out of control as the stabilisers struggle to compensate with the speed it'd been hurled at.
sam clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "ooooh, she's gonna kill you."
bucky shrugs, utterly unfazed, but there's a shadow of a smile sitting on his lips, "i didn't like the way it was looking at me."
"you better pray he still works when you get back or else i'll murder you in your sleep." there's a lowness in your voice that should be intimidating, but bucky doesn't falter.
"i'd like to see you try." he retorts, his tone bordering amused.
"you've never seen me." you reply matter-of-factly, "you wouldn't even see me coming.”
"oh, trust me, the moment i hear nasally breathing, i'd know exactly who was about about to beat my ass."
"that sounded like a compliment, barnes." you roll your eyes, ignoring the insult and simply smirk, putting on your best mock-sultry tone, "are you complimenting me?"
"don't flatter yourself. i've just taken too many hits to the head."
he hears you scoff, and it makes his grin widen. he can almost imagine you in your little computer room at the base, sitting in front of your set-up with an unimpressed look on your face, or even pacing back and forth muttering about how annoying he is.
it's weird how he knows so much about you, but still can't really picture what you look like. he's tried, but it's mostly just a blur— almost like a familiar face from a dream.
sam stops walking and turns to bucky with his hands on his hands, "are you guys done flirting or do you want me to circle back in a couple of hours?"
"you should've just let him fall into the river, sam." you grumble through the comms.
"hey guys?" joaquin's voice comes in clear and troubled.
sam pauses, his eyebrow furrowing, "what's up, torres?"
"you might wanna come and check this out."
it's later in the day. the team had gathered back at the base to debrief, worn out and trying to gather themselves after the failed mission.
sam is slouched on a chair, eyeing the information on the screen to figure out what went wrong, bucky's leaning against the wall with a towel around his neck and a band-aid above his brow, and joaquin's icing his shoulder and holding up his phone, where your voice comes through the speaker.
"so youre telling me that they just abandoned two entire crates full of super soldier serum and then just dipped?" you spoke— sharp and unmistakably done with everything.
"uhhhhhhhh... yeah." joaquin blinks, then tilts his head in confusion, "i thought you were already caught up with this?"
"do i sound caught up, joaquin?" you roll your eyes and take a deep breath, "it just doesn't make any sense. they went through all that effort to keep up busy, only to leave the serum behind like its nothing?"
"you think it was a decoy?" joaquin asks.
"i don't know." you half-shrug, "they've barely touched it, and i just got a message that they want me to check it out before they log it and send it into evidence."
sam straightens in his chair, "you want backup?"
"it's sitting in the middle of an air-force base, sam. if someone pops out, they've got bigger things to worry about than me— like the twenty armed guards surrounding it or the drone that's been circling it for the past hour."
"you're actually leaving your cave?" bucky jokes.
"yeah, barnes, i am." you deadpan, hand already on your 'caves' door handle, "since you threw scout into orbit, i'll have to use my eyes like a normal person. he's fine, by the way. just a bit of whiplash."
sam huffs out a laugh, but his shoulders are still visibly tense, "hey, just be careful, okay?"
"always. i'll call back in ten." you say, more to yourself than anyone else, then hang up.
the room is silent for a few seconds. the low him from computer monitors fills the space, punctuated by the slow ticking of a clock nearby.
joaquin sighs, then mutters, "can't believe they left the crates behind." he shifts the ice pack on his shoulder, "feels... off."
sam leans back in his chair with a tired sigh, "if anyone's gonna spot something we missed, it's her."
then another moment of silence stretches through the team. outside the window, the airfield lights burn against the dusk. the base is usually quiet at this time of day.
bucky stares out of the window. then he asks, "is she always like that when she's out in the field?" he doesn't clarify what he means by that, but the others seem to understand what he means.
"what, annoyingly confident?" sam lets a small smile wander onto his face as he thinks about you, "she's about ten times worse when she's not behind those screens. but it's good. she doesn't miss much. and when she's got a gut feeling..."
sam doesn't finish his sentence. he doesn't need to.
"you should see her during intel briefings." joaquin adds with a goofy grin, "she'll shred a guy's whole thesis with like... three words. it's brutal."
"and that weird 'incoming' thing she does?" bucky frowns, like he's genuinely confused, "what is that?"
joaquin laughs under his breath, "she's been doing that since we were recruited. it's like... her thing."
bucky's quiet for a moment. his eyes glance at joaquin's phone where your voice had just crackled through not even a minute ago. it sat idly on the table. there's a weird feeling in his chest— almost embarrassment. he'd known you for two years and was only just now asking questions.
"is she tall?" bucky blurts out.
joaquin blinks, caught off guard, "what?"
there's another beat of silence. sam turns his head away slowly from the monitor, clearly unimpressed, and gestures vaguely to bucky. he deadpans, "he's never seen her."
"seriously?" joaquin raises his brows, "you've been working with her for two years, and you've never ever seen her face?"
bucky runs his tongue against the inside of his cheek. he wants to just get over the subject, but he's brought it onto himself. he shrugs like it's nothing as he pulls the towel from around his neck, but the pink tips of his ears say the opposite.
"she's always behind a screen or..." bucky runs his hand over his face, exhaling like he already regrets having this conversation, "or on encrypted phone calls, or in a control room in some random part of this place. she's not exactly the easiest person to bump into."
"you've never looked her up? never seen a photo?" joaquin still looks utterly amused, inching ever so slightly across the table, "you haven't even stalked her, just a little bit?"
bucky looks at him like he's spewed gibberish, "no."
"she was standing right next to you last week." joaquin exclaims incredulously, "at the debrief? she was standing next to you with her arms crossed? we could go check out to the crates right now. she'd be there."
bucky furrows his brows, completely silent.
sam leans back with a knowing smirk, "trust me, if he'd seen her, he'd remember her."
"what's that supposed to mean?" bucky frowns, unsure if he should be offended or if he actually has a point to make.
"it means she's memorable, man." sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "voice like that? brain like that? you think the looks don't match? she’d have you thinking about her 24/7.”
joaquin raises his brows in agreement, "he's got a point."
bucky doesn't respond, and his silence says more than any smartass comeback ever could. he's just sitting there, absentmindedly playing with the towel in his hands and staring at nothing in particular, his gaze far off— maybe trying to picture you again. maybe trying to figure out if he should go out and see you— but it feels wrong.
sam watches him for barely a second and has already read him like a book. he rolls his eyes and leans forwards with intent, like he's seen this before. and he has. "don't go getting all obsessed, buck."
that snaps bucky out of his head. he scoffs, "i'm not—"
"she called you buck and you didn't say anything about it."
joaquin watches the exchange like its an intense tennis match.
"i've known you for, like... ten years. i called you buck last year and you didn't like it." sam points out, gesturing emphatically, "and you just asked if she was tall like you were filling out your dating profile preferences."
"it was a question." bucky defends.
"a weird question." sam retorts.
"oh, give me a break." bucky clenches his jaw, "you're telling me that if you there was a voice in your ear 24/7 for two years, you wouldn't be going insane?"
and he meant insane. you were everywhere. in his ear during missions, on his phone when you need to let him know important intel at ungodly hours, in briefing folders where half of the intel had come straight from you, and even in conversations he overhears whenever he walks through the base.
you— the genius air-force captain who works directly for the new captain america.
no one really knew how you ended up running tactical for sam, but no one had questioned it either. you were just good. scary good. the kind of smart that made people shut up and listen, and the kind of precise that made bucky trust your voice more than his own gut.
bucky had fought his entire life— in wars, for and against hydra, stared down gods and aliens and wizards— but somehow, it was you, the staticky voice in his ear, that kept him on edge.
how can someone be everywhere, but nowhere to be seen?
but then there's a loud bang— loud enough to jolt sam and joaquin out of their chairs. its sharp and feels wrong in their guts, the kind of sound that doesn't belong in a secure military base.
"what the hell was that?" sam shouts.
an alarm starts blaring in the main sector of the air base— where you are.
the three of them were already sprinting down the hallway before they had even registered that they'd moved. the smell of smoke hits their noses before they even make it out of the doors— acrid, bitter, and smelling off chemicals.
outside, the air is thick of it. it sticks low to the ground, a handful of military personnel already corralling debris and shouting orders at each other amongst the wreckage. something had definitely exploded.
"jesus—" sam mutters with his mouth shielding his face from the smoke, "isn't that where the crates were?"
bucky's jaw tightens. there's a crunch under his boot, and when he lifts it, a tiny vial with blue liquid stares back at him. his eyes sweep through the smoke, but he's not sure he could even recognise you. a figure in fatigues passes by and bucky's wastes no time in stomping towards them.
"hey—" he calls, voice rough with urgency. your name slips from his mouth, "was she here? was she hurt?"
the figure turns and points to the other side of the base, "they took her to medical." they quickly reply.
joaquin wastes no time and bolts in your direction, not bothering to ask any questions or where you are— he'd find you.
sam is already stepping over the debris to try to figure out what had happened. when they'd transported it back to the base, there had been no signs that anything was wrong. and now, after hours of silence, one had detonated after you had checked on it.
"she said she felt something was off." sam stiffens, "and she was right."
bucky rounds the edge of the blast zone, his eyes scanning the ground. bits of scorched wood and metal are strewn everywhere with dark smoke still curling upwards like it's taunting them. his boot kicks something small and metallic, half buried in the dust.
"sam." he calls, crouching down.
sam looks over. his eyes narrow as bucky reaches for a small warped disc. it's blackened, but not completely unrecognisable— a thin casing, circuit etching, and what looks like melted adhesive around the edges.
"they were never gonna come back for it." bucky turns over the deflated bomb, "wanted to cause serious damage to whoever took it."
"yeah, and it worked. they've put our man in the chair in hospital."
bucky rips off a flailing piece of plastic from the bomb. underneath, there's writing writing in minuscule block letters and unintelligible to him at first glance. its not english or in any language he recognises.
he squints, turning it slightly, "you seeing this?"
sam leans over and brushes soot off of the surface, "some kind of... manufacturing tag?"
"could be a location." bucky matters, pointing at a short line of text half-buried under the sticky residue, "this part here looks like latitude and longitude."
sam exchanges a stumped look with bucky, "so what, they booby-trap the crates, nearly kill our comms specialist, and then give us a return address?"
"looks like it."
they both fall silent. there's still a hum of chaos and confusion in the air with military personnel running back and forth to figure out what's happening, and joaquin's still in medical trying to find you. sam's jaw ticks.
"you thinking what i'm thinking?" he asks.
bucky nods once, "yeah. time to pay 'em a visit."
the moon hangs heavy over the towering complex. the building hangs on the edge of a tree line, swallowed by both nature and time. what used to be a lavish apartment complex in the 70s was now home to spiders, rats, and bird nests, the crumbling skeleton of concrete and steel forgotten, but not untouched.
joaquin frowns, craning his neck just to look up at the building, "you guys sure this is the place?"
before he can even finish his sentence, a slow gust of wind passes through. it whistles through the exposed windows and cracked walls, groaning like its alive. the metal structure groans under its own weight and it sways.
"that cannot be good." sam audibly winces.
they shake it off, moving without speaking. joaquin checks his wings and weapons, bucky is staring up at the windows like he's trying to see something through them, and sam is trying to get redwing to scout the area— a poor substitute for the tech they had gotten used to.
there's a silence surrounding them that crawls under their skin. no crackling in their ear pieces, no humming from drones zipping around in the air, and certainly no voice in their ears telling them what to do next. all that accompanies them is the sound of wind and the thud of concrete as chunks occasionally fall from the building.
then joaquin exhales through his nose and shifts uncomfortably like your lack of presence is physically effecting him, "yeah, this feels weird."
"right?" sam lets out a relieved laugh like he's been thinking the same exact thing, "it's almost too quiet. i dont know what to do with myself without someone yappin' in my ear."
he glances sideways at bucky, who looks like he's thinking the same, but is keeping his mouth shut about it. "you miss her too, don't you, buck?"
bucky pauses like he's about to say something witty that'll get sam off of his back, but he lets out a small breath in amusement and nods once instead, "yeah. i guess i got used to her bossing us around all day."
then, as if summoned by pure magic, there's a crackle that hits all three of their ear pieces.
"you guys can't get rid of me that easily." your voice slips in, smug and unhurried— like you'd been listening the whole time and were just waiting for the perfect moment to turn your mic on.
sam jumps so high that he nearly flies redwing straight into a power line, "jesus christ—"
bucky's head snaps straight up. his hand flies to his ear piece like he can't believe that your voice is actually there. "what the hell are you doing on comms?" he asks sharply, but he can't hide the hint of relief he feels.
"it's nice to hear you too, barnes." your roll your eyes, amused.
"they cleared her." joaquin laughs, answering the question before they could ask.
"yup." you nod and gesture to your face as if they can see you, "i'm a little burnt and they had to remove a piece of metal from my cheek, but other than that, i'm fit as a fiddle."
your monitor flickers to life. in one of them, you can see the tips of bucky's fingers pressing against the lens of the small camera he usually wears on missions.
"what are you doing, barnes?" you deadpan as you watch one of your screen flip back and forth.
"i'm trying to put—" bucky sighs as he tries to jam the camera into a small hole in his vest, but it twists and turns and wont stick. "this camera's broken."
"it isn't broken. you're just putting it in upside down."
"... didnt the nurse tell you to stop talking?" bucky grumbles as he messes with the small camera. he flips it around and scoffs when it sticks on with ease, "y'know, to preserve your vocal chords and prevent any more damage or whatever?"
"a bomb exploded in my face, barnes, not in my throat." you roll your eyes, "and look— it's in now. see what listening to me does?"
"i thought i was... zooming in."
joaquin snorts, "dude's out here trying to fight super soldiers with the tech literacy of a toaster."
"i've killed people with a toaster—"
"love the attitude today, guys. very inspiring." sam grumbles. redwing flies back into their radius and clicks back into sam's pack, "now that you're here, you mind checking out the perimeter?
"whatever. scout is in—"
"incoming." the three of them chime in unison, perfectly timed and perfectly familiar. there's a silence before you laugh.
"wow, you guys." you sigh with dramatic flair, a mix of both sarcasm and genuine amusement, "i've babied you guys for so long that you're finally taking after me. wanna call me mama next?"
you can hear joaquin snicker loud and clear through the mic, and you watch through sam's body cam as bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes like he's annoyed with your antics.
sam gives the camera a flat look, knowing that you were probably laughing at their faces, "this is what happens when they let her out of medical early."
scout zips into the scene, a quiet mechanical sound whirring past the team. it flies high up into the abandoned apartment complex, small enough to squeeze into the cracks of broken windows and rusted beams like a bird, scanning the surroundings and mapping them out on sam's tablet.
"scout's in." you announce, weaving scout through dusty cloth and abandoned furniture.
from outside, the guys glance up, watching as scout disappears for a moment before darting back inside.
"i'll never get used to how fast that thing moves." sam mutters as he watches scout zip through the top floor.
"he's faster than redwing." you simply reply, but sam doesn't miss the slight edge of challenge in your voice.
"excuse me?" he scoffs, glancing at bucky's body cam like it's you and you're actually there, "trust me— if your tiny little tennis ball goes down, you're gonna be begging to use redwing."
"i'm not touching your freaky little robot bird. i have standards."
"hey, i met your ex. don't you talk to me about standards—"
there's a sharp bark of laughter from joaquin, but bucky cuts in before you and sam's banter can escalate. "can we focus?"
you roll your eyes, but narrow in on scout's POV.
"something moved on the fifth floor. it could've been the wind and some tarps, but it could've also been— woah."
that gets their attention.
"what is it?" bucky asks, immediately alert.
you zoom in slowly. "there's... something big in here. looks like machinery— lots of it. the whole setup looks old, but it doesn't look abandoned."
"what kind of machinery?" sam asks.
"hang on." scout scoots a little closer, and your eyes widen. "it's a production lab— specialised injectors, gene sequencers, stabilisers— i think this is where they were were making the serum."
joaquin narrowed his eyes in confusion, "they used this place as a super soldier factory?"
you shook your head, "no, not anymore. looks like it's been stripped clean, but the setup's still here. they didn't even bother hiding what it was and just left it to... rot. scout's picking up residual heat signatures, so whoever was here cleared out recently— maybe a few hours ago, maybe less. it should be safe."
“should be." sam mutters under his breath, but he's already pulling his shield to his chest and heading towards the door, "never feels comforting when you say that."
the team fans out as they enter the apartment building— or what's left of it.
sam sticks to the lower floors, descending down stairs leading to a basement. the flashlight on his vest isn't bright enough to cut through the vastness of it.
bucky decides to check out the machinery to see if they left anything of importance behind. he mutters something about it smelling like a meth lab as he heads upstairs.
joaquin jets to the rooftop. he wants elevation, to see the layout of the place and the potential leads that could find the group behind this— but he also wants to avoid being on the ground floor if the building decides to give way.
"scout's overhead if you need backup. keep your comms clear and open. let me know if you find anything." you tell them before turning your microphone off.
"wouldn't dream of ignoring you." joaquin teases.
and then you're alone in the silence of your command room. you lean closer to your monitors, hands intertwined against your mouth as you watch your boys disappear one by one into the dingy bowels of the apartment complex.
it's dark, and even with scout's night vision, you can barely see ahead. the hallways look more like underground tunnels, and you can only imagine how cramped it must feel. the camera stutters with static as scout floats ahead, probably from the lack of service. you're almost afraid you might lose contact with them.
scout rounds a corner. you dont necessarily know where you've guided him— it's too dark to see— but you know you're somewhere down below. you're half-focused, watching bucky's body cam and keeping tabs on joaquin's feed— until something jolts scout off course.
the small drone clips the corner of a wall and bumps into sam's shoulder, startling him.
"what the hell?" he whips around, staring down at scout like he'd just punched sam in the face, "don't sneak up on me like that."
you click your mic on with an apologetic smile, "sorry. wasn't looking where i was going."
sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the basement. it's almost a labyrinth with how many empty boxes and crates are stuffed down there, and it smells of mold and rot. sam scans the room, and you do too. there's an old supply crate shoved into the corner of a hallway, covered by a measly and moth-eaten tarp.
"hang on..." sam mutters as he nears it.
"sam, wait, don't touch it—" you warn, but it's too late. sam nudges the tarp aside, and what's underneath sends your stomach plummeting.
"it's a bomb." you breathe, "get out, sam, now—"
"sh—"
the comms explode with static— not just sam's, but bucky's and joaquin's too. there's a high pitched ringing noise piercing through your headset and sam's screen goes white, then black.
your hands fly to your keyboard, pulling up scout's emergency override system. he's still functional— wobbly and a bit glitchy, but functional— and through his lens, you see smoke and chunks of plaster. there's a section of collapsed ceiling sitting beside scout's whirring body.
before the smoke even clears, another explosion rings out— louder and closer, and then there's another. for a split second, all you can see is light, your screens showering you in a horrible, horrible feeling of dread. for a second, you think you've lost all of them.
"sam!" you yell, "sam, can you hear me? sam?"
there's movement— and then there's a groan.
"still alive." he coughs through the dust, his voice strained, "think i caught the edge of it. damn shield saved me."
"okay. you're okay—" you let out a horribly shaky breath, "just... hold still. i still need to— joaquin? bucky? someone, come in."
there's nothing but static, and then one of your screens flashes back to life. it's joaquin's, who's outside and on flat ground.
"i'm fine— jesus, i barely made it out of there." joaquin pants, doubled-over with his hands on his knees, "the roof's collapsed. i managed to fly out just before it gave out."
you close your eyes for a split second, relief washing over you— but then it's gone just as fast as it came. you whip your head towards the last monitor, the screen still static and your heart clawing in your throat.
"what the hell happened?" sam grunts as he pushes a chunk of concrete off of his chest.
"i don't know, man." joaquin replies, still catching his breath, "i was heading down and there was a POP, and then the whole building blew up like a chain reaction."
"it was a chain reaction. they must've known we were coming." your voice is low, urgent, "one in the basement near sam, one on the roof, and—" you pause as you glance at bucky's feed, "one near the lab."
sam presses his hand to his ear, trying to filter out the crumbling concrete from the static in this ear piece, "bucky, do you copy?"
"barnes?" you call again, leaning over your console like it'll bring you any closer to him, "barnes, can you hear me?"
"come on, buck, say something." sam mutters, pacing through the wreckage, "try bouncing the signal again."
"i am." you snap, more out of fear than anger, "i've already rerouted twice. there's just— there's nothing." then, more quietly you add, "he was right by the lab. that blast radius—" you swallow hard.
"i'm going after him." sam says immediately, already pushing his way out of his entrapment.
"no— no, wait, sam. the buildings not stable. i have to run a structural integrity scan before you can move." you pause, frantically typing, "follow scout— he'll find a way out. i'll find barnes."
sam clenches his jaw, but he listens.
"i'm going to try switching stations. maybe in the explosion he accidentally hit a button. maybe he just lost signal— a tech issue, maybe. either way, i can fix it."
you try reasoning out loud— trying to stay calm— but you're not convincing anyone, least of all yourself.
from the middle floor, bucky lets out a wrangled sound— half-cough, half-groan.
he doesnt know where he is. everything's dark and dusty, choking him every time he takes a breath. his ears are ringing, and the ground is cold and damp beneath him, and it even takes him a moment to register that he’s on the ground.
and there's a throbbing pain in his leg— dull at first, but then sharp, like someone lit a fire in the muscle just below his knee. he tries to shift it, but the pressure doesn't give.
"shit.."
its hard to focus. he can't remember where he was or how he had gotten there. he blinks, once, then twice. it's silent, and he's alone. he can tell before the thought even forms, and a deep unsettling feeling forms in his stomach.
there's no chatter or humming of a drone. there's no voice telling him where to go or what to do— there's no you.
bucky clenches his jaw as he pulls himself up on one elbow. he grits his teeth as he shifts, enough to look down. there's a large metal beam pinning him down just across his shin. he exhales, trying not to move too much— trying not to panic.
he reaches up to his ear, pressing against it just to see if there was anything at all. his fingers press the buttons, trying to switch the dials— anything to get a hold of someone— but there's static.
"sam?” he rasps, "sam, come in.”
a shifting groan in the walls answers him.
"torres?" his voice cracks, "joaq— joaquin, come on. hey—"
the metal beam pinning him down just creaks under pressure.
panic starts to creep into his minds, replacing all logic. the pressure on his leg is sharp now, his side aches, and the silence is starting to weigh on him.
and then— barely a whisper— your name slips from his mouth. once, twice, and then once more, calling for you like you'd appear and rip the rubble from off of his body yourself.
"c'mon, talk to me." he pants, "tell me that i'm holding the camera upside down, or... or that scout's incoming. anything— just— say something."
he waits, and waits, and waits, but only static answers.
bucky doesn't know what to do. if he moves, he's afraid the rubble around him will crush him. if he doesn't, he'll never get out.
he squeezes his eyes shut, his forehead pressing against the dusty concrete as his breath stutters. his heart is pounding in his chest and he can hear it in his ears, unsure if it's from fear or the lack of oxygen.
he doesnt want to die. at least not like this. not alone.
a sharp, dry laugh escapes him— bitter and breathless.
"shouldve told you i missed your voice before i got crushed by a goddamn support beam." he mutters to no one, "that would've been smart."
his hand slips from his ear and falls to the floor. he's tired.
then—
"barnes? barnes?"
his earpiece glitches as he turns his head, looking around like the voice might be there. there's a sputter, and another glitch— but the voice in his ear is unmistakably you.
"bucky, can you hear me?"
your voice cuts through the static like a blade of light in the dark. youre clearer now, sharper— desperate.
and bucky laughs. its all he can do. a soft, disbelieving laugh into the stagnant air, his chest stuttering with pure, aching relief. its the sound of someone trying not to fall apart.
"you—" he coughs, dragging a shaky breath into his lungs, "you dont know how happy i am to hear your voice. where's sam and joaquin?"
he can hear a loud breathy laugh and then a thud, almost like you just collapsed at your desk from sheer joy, "they're fine. they're out. you just... you scared the hell out of me, barnes—"
"call me bucky’."
there's a silence on your end— like you're letting his words find their way into your brain. like maybe you needed to hear that.
then softer, you smile. "okay. bucky."
he closes his eyes again. he lets the sound of his name in your voice carry him through the weight pressing down on your leg.
"can you move? are you bleeding? are you—"
"i'm trapped." he cuts you off. he knows you're stressing yourself out far too much, "there's a support beam pinning my leg down, but otherwise, i think i'm fine. i can't get a hold of sam or joaquin, so... you're all i've got now."
"good. i've got you all to myself now." you try to joke— trying to keep bucky from panicking— but he can hear the quiver in your voice and the way your words wobble just enough to betray you.
"hey." he softens, "you don't need to worry. i'm okay. i'm alive."
"right. sorry, i'm just—" you swallow, eyes boring holes into bucky's monitor, "i was scared."
there's a silence, and for a moment, you're afraid bucky's been knocked out— but then he laughs. with his usual calm certainty you're so used to now—
"takes a little more than bombing a building to get rid of me."
you smile— watery and breathless— even if he can't see it. but he can hear you, and that helps with his pain. bucky huffs out a soft laugh, but it catches in his throat when the rubble around him shifts against his chest.
you catch the sound immediately. "what was that?"
"i'm under five hundred pounds of concrete and steel." bucky grunts under his breath, "i don't think it likes me moving."
"okay, okay. hold on. i'm pulling up scout's last scan of your level." you're already typing, eyes darting between monitors. "there's a structural weakness about two feet to your left. if you can push against it, i think i can guide you out."
"you think?" he mutters.
"barnes—"
"bucky."
you sigh, "i'm going to get you out, bucky. just.. trust me."
"i do." he says without hesitation.
you breathe in. "alright— now lean over and try to pull out your leg out from under that beam. it's cracked and scout thinks you can snap it. from there, you should be able to push some of the concrete away on your left and climb out."
"i'll try."
there's a deep rumbling sound coming from bucky's mic, and it was now more than ever that you wished his body cam had worked. there's a sharp grunt from bucky, and then—
there's a metallic groan, and then a cracking noise.
"bucky?"
"i'm out."
"jesus christ, bucky, don't ever do that again. i thought you broke your leg or something."
"you just told me to do it."
"that's not the point. i just—" you stop yourself and place a restless hand against your forehead like you can scrub the panic away, "i'm re-routing scout to find you. sam and joaquin are moving to help you from the outside.
there's a pause— just the low hum of your tech and the faint hiss of static in bucky's ear.
"you're doing great." bucky says gently as he pulls away a handful of debris, "seriously. you've got me halfway out already."
"halfway doesn't count." you mutter. youre focused on scout's monitor as it zooms up multiple levels towards bucky. you're barely blinking, and you're thumbnail is torn up from where you've been nervously chewing on it.
he smiles faintly— dusty, tired, but honest. "it counts to me."
scout clears the floors— each level scanned and discarded— and then, like a light in the dark, you can spot the unmistakable glimmer of bucky's vibranium arm under the rubble.
you switch back to sam and joaquin's channel, your voice breaking through the comms, "bucky's on the sixth level's east corridor. he's trapped, but he's okay."
"copy that!" joaquin responds instantly.
before long, bucky can hear two pairs of boots thudding against the ground. he blinks slowly as a flashlight burns into his face. he turns his head just enough to see them through the haze— sam on the left and joaquin on the right.
"took you long enough." bucky jokes as he shoves another piece of debris out of the way.
"oh, he's alive." joaquin exhales as he grabs at chunks of metals, "i thought we were gonna be digging out a corpse."
bucky rolls his eyes, holding out an arm, "love the optimism."
sam practically leaps forwards, crouching beside him, "you're a damn cockroach, you know that? an explosion, six floors of concrete, and you're still alive." he says, grabbing bucky's arm and slinging it over his shoulder, "can you walk?"
"i'll manage." bucky leans on sam and joaquin more than he wants, but at least he's upright.
as they make it out, scout trails behind them like a loyal shadow. your voice crackles through, but not in their ear pieces— through scout. "you've got a clear past east. the stairwell's stable, but don't waste time."
bucky glances up, and although he can't see you, there's a softness in his expression as he limps down the hallway, "still with me?"
you smile, "still with you."
joaquin glances awkwardly at sam, then rolls his eyes, "alright, you can flirt later. let's just get out of here."
the hangar is dim, lit only by overhead lights that flicker slightly and the occasional sensors that turn on when a janitor walks by. sam, bucky, and joaquin stand in a semi-circle staring down at atleast ten full crates of super soldier serum, the lids pried open and the vials staring— almost mockingly— back at them.
no one speaks for a while.
"so you're telling me..." sam pauses as he holds his hand to his mouth, trying to make sense of the unbelievable situation in front of him, "we almost died... and the serum was in john walker's hands?"
joaquin tilts his head, "hell of a sentence."
bucky leans over and plucks a vial from it's foam confine. it's heavier than he expected. he tilts the vial, watching the blue liquid slink to its side, an inkling of suspicion growing in his chest.
"who's to say this isn't a trap?" he places it back into the crate and crosses his arms against his chest, "walker drops off ten crates of serum and walks off, no questions asked? i mean... how'd he even manage to take these guys down? he doesn't have the shield or the government's support."
sam turns around and shakes his head, too stressed out of his mind to even think about it anymore, "i don't even wanna know, man."
behind them, a door opens with the familiar hiss of hydraulics. and then there's footsteps— soft, but certain.
"what are you guys looking at?"
bucky freezes.
it hits him like a punch in the chest— he knows that voice. he hears it in his sleep. in the quiet between missions. in the static of a dead ear piece. and now it’s just here— fast approaching.
it’s you. he knows it’s you.
he doesnt want to turn around— not yet— because turning around would make it real, and if it’s not— if its just his mind trying to comfort him with something familiar in a world that keeps pulling itself from under his feet— then he’s not sure he can handle it.
but then—
“why do you all look like someone died?”
and something breaks lose in him. bucky turns— he can’t stop himself— and there you are. you’re walking towards them, headset around your neck and your sleeves rolled up, clearly just finished with reports, debriefing and damage control. you look tired, but so alive that it almost knocks the air out of his lungs.
he doesnt know what he expected, but you look better than anything he could have possibly conjured up in his mind.
it’s instant, like something short circuits in him. you’re safe. you’re here. there’s no more static through a headset, no dust, and no explosions. you’re real and you’re standing ten feet away, completely unaware of the fact that he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since you said his name over comms.
you walk closer, hands on your hips as you peer into one of the crates. you speak, but bucky barely hears you over the roaring in his ears.
she’s fine. she’s fine. she’s fine.
he swallows hard. his metal hand twitches. you feel his stare before you see it. you glance over.
there's dust still smudged along the side of his jaw, and a faint scrape just above his eyebrow. but he's standing there and breathing, watching you like he can't believe you're real.
“hi, bucky.” the corner of your mouth twists up into a warm smile as you give him a proper once-over, “you look good.”
you say it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
as you walk up to them, your shoulder brushes his for a fraction of a second. you just stand beside him like it's nothing— like this isn't some world-shattering event for bucky and that you weren’t a disembodied voice talking in his ear less than an hour ago.
even sam and joaquin are surprised, side-eyeing each other over the crates with identical expressions of is this really happening right now? and why is he just staring?
he's trying to play it cool, but he can't— he just can't keep his eyes off of you.
"holy shit, is that—" your jaw almost goes slack as you peer into the crates, eyes glazing over the glass vials in their foam casings, "where the hell did these come from?"
joaquin lets out an exasperated laugh, "you'll never guess."
you blink, "john walker?”
sam snorts, “okay, maybe you’ll guess.”
"i heard you say his name before i came in, i just didn’t think he was the one who dropped these off." you exclaim. you’re sort of impressed, "are you kidding me? how'd he even manage to get in here?”
your voice pitches with incredulity, the question half-rhetorical, half pure disbelief. you’re already running through possibilities in your head, and none of them are good.
you’re still peering into the crates, but bucky’s barely processed a single word since you walked in. his brain short circuits a little, and he speaks before he can stop himself.
“you’ve got… pen on your cheek.”
you blink, caught off guard, “what?”
bucky gestures vaguely to his own face, like his hand can explain for him, “right there. blue. it’s… smudged under your eye. must’ve been from the, uh… debrief reports or something.”
there’s a pause.
"seriously?” sam turns to face bucky’s, his brows raised so high that they’re practically part of his hairline, “you see the lady's face for the first time and that's what you say?
joaquin chokes on a laugh. you stare at bucky with an amused grin. he looks absolutely mortified.
“wh— it was distracting.” bucky waves sam off, trying to get him off of his back.
but you only laugh as you watch bucky scoff, "two years and you still don't know how to greet me. you could at least tell me i look good.”
he furrows his brows, caught somewhere between embarrassed and flustered “that’s a bit egotistical, don’t you think?”
you shrug, “oh, my bad. i forgot that you were the only one who’s allowed to be a little full of yourself around here.”
joaquin sucks in a breath through his teeth, “she’s got you there, man.”
bucky rolls his eyes and sighs. he opens his mouth, then closes it, and then he just shrugs, “you look good. really good.”
its awkward and a little stiff, but something about the way he says it makes it feel real— a little vulnerable— like he means it more than he knows how to physically express it.
you soften, just a little, “thanks, bucky.”
a short silence passes again, more comfortable now.
“okay, but seriously, what the hell are we gonna do with these?” you nod towards the crates, nudging one with the toe of your shoe.
sam blows out a breath, “i don’t know, but i do know one thing.”
you, bucky, and joaquin all look at him as he claps his hands together like he’s had a brilliant idea.
“i think we deserve a drink— y’know, to celebrate not dying.”
joaquin raises his hand, “i second that.”
“best idea you’ve had all day, sammy.” you grin, “i’ll go grab the good stuff.”
bucky watches as you turn and leave, something unreadable in his eyes. he stays frozen as he watches you disappear behind a door.
once you’re out of earshot, sam turns to bucky and pats him firmly on the shoulder—
“don’t worry.” he says with a knowing grin, “i’ll make sure you get another chance to say something better.”
bucky doesn’t reply, but the faintest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
🐸 here!! imagine bucky coming home to find reader wearing his henley and absolutely nothing else. just standing in the kitchen eating strawberries like it’s normal. chaos ensues pls.
stop it right now!
----------
Bucky smelled the strawberries before he saw you.
The scent drifted through the apartment the moment he stepped inside—sweet, ripe, mouthwatering. It was quiet, no music or TV playing, just the soft creak of floorboards and the faint rustle of movement somewhere near the kitchen.
He set down his keys, rubbed the back of his neck, and toed off his boots. It had been a long day. One of those days where traffic was a nightmare and everything felt heavier than it should. He just wanted to see you. Maybe hold you. Definitely kiss you. Ideally, fall asleep with you wrapped around him.
He rounded the corner—and his thoughts stopped dead.
There you were.
Standing in front of the fridge with your back to him, barefoot, half-turned in the warm glow of the under-cabinet lights. You were eating strawberries straight from the bowl, plucking one out lazily and popping it into your mouth.
And you were wearing his shirt.
Not just any shirt. His charcoal henley—the one that always fit just right, hugging his shoulders and stretching perfectly across your hips when you “borrowed” it. Except this time, there was nothing underneath. No leggings. No shorts. No attempt to pretend it wasn’t a very intentional choice.
Bucky blinked.
You turned at the sound of his bag dropping to the floor, your expression perfectly casual. “Hey.”
“You’re… wearing my shirt.”
You glanced down at yourself, feigning surprise. “Huh. So I am.”
His gaze swept from your bare legs to the curve of your hips to the hem of the henley that barely reached mid-thigh. You were completely nonchalant, biting into another strawberry like this wasn’t an ambush designed to destroy what little self-control he had left.
“And… nothing else?” he asked.
“Nope.” You chewed slowly. “Just the shirt. Want a strawberry?”
Bucky stared at you for another long moment before letting out a dry, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’ve been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for forty minutes, I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I walk in to this?”
“I thought you’d appreciate a snack.”
He shook his head, walking toward you, that low, slow smile creeping across his face. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw you over my shoulder right now.”
You grinned, unbothered. “So lucky.”
He stopped just a foot away, eyes raking over you again. You knew what you were doing. He knew you knew. And he loved you for it.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, crossing his arms. “You put on my favorite shirt, skipped the pants entirely, and waited in the kitchen like a goddamn centerfold—just to mess with me?”
“I was hungry.”
“For strawberries?”
“For attention.”
He snorted. “At least you’re honest.”
You offered him the bowl, but he didn’t take it. He stepped in closer, crowding you gently against the counter. You tilted your chin, eyes shining with mischief as he reached over your shoulder, plucked a berry from the bowl, and bit into it.
Juice ran from the corner of his mouth.
Your breath caught.
He leaned in, voice low and teasing. “So. You’re half-naked, eating fruit, and pretending like it’s completely normal. That about right?”
“Mm. Sounds accurate.”
“And you didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, I’d walk in and lose my goddamn mind?”
“I was counting on it.”
He huffed a laugh, brushing his knuckles down your bare thigh. “You’re evil.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
Bucky reached for the bowl again, but you caught his wrist.
“Wait,” you said. “You can’t have another until you kiss me.”
He gave you a mock look of exasperation. “Is that how this works now?”
“House rules.”
“Well then—” He set the bowl aside, hands sliding to your waist. “I’d better follow them.”
The kiss he gave you wasn’t rushed. It was slow, sweet, patient—like he was tasting the strawberry on your lips and you all at once. He deepened it with a soft growl when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in.
You could feel him smile against your mouth.
“I missed you,” you murmured.
His voice was quieter now. “I missed you more.”
He kissed you again—this time longer, firmer, until your knees felt like they might give out. One of his hands slipped under the hem of the shirt, fingers trailing along your bare thigh, and you shivered.
“Jesus,” he breathed, pulling back an inch to look at you. “You really weren’t wearing anything under this?”
“Nope.”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
“Maybe just a little.”
He stepped back then—only barely, just enough to lift you by the hips and set you on the counter like you weighed nothing. You let out a surprised laugh as the bowl of strawberries slid out of the way.
“Bucky—”
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “You started this. You don’t get to back out now.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. “I don’t plan to.”
He kissed you again, this time harder. His hands settled on your thighs, thumbs brushing lazy circles into your skin. You felt his day melt off of him with every touch, every press of his mouth to yours.
“You wore this just for me?” he asked, lips moving against your neck.
“Mmhm.”
“Waited here on purpose?”
“Guilty.”
His laugh rumbled through your chest. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Worth it.”
He pulled back slightly to look at you, his hands still resting on your bare legs. “Next time you want to kill me with strawberries and no pants, at least give me a warning.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re dangerous.”
“And you like it.”
He kissed your cheek, your jaw, then nuzzled into your neck with a groan.
“God, I really do.”
Later, after you’ve been thoroughly kissed, flustered, and spoiled—and after he’s had his fill of strawberries, courtesy of both you and the bowl—you sit curled up on the couch together, wrapped in a blanket, your legs thrown over his lap. He’s still wearing the hoodie he came home in, but now it smells like you. Like warmth and sugar and something he’d chase across galaxies for.
“You’re gonna keep stealing my clothes, aren’t you?” he murmurs, tugging the collar of the henley where it slips off your shoulder.
You smile sleepily against his side.
“Only the good ones.”
He grins. “Guess I better start hiding ‘em.”
“Go ahead,” you mumble, eyes already drifting shut. “I’ll just steal yours next.”
He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
Summary:
For the longest time, you thought the cat roaming the tower wasn’t owned by anybody. Then you eventually realize that the “Tower Cat” does, in fact, have a name, and is owned by none other than Bucky Barnes himself, the one team member you aren’t exactly best friends with.
After Bucky finds out that Alpine has become fond of you, he starts giving you odd looks and passive-aggressive comments. This leads you to the conclusion that he is jealous of you for taking his cat. However, as time goes on, you come to the realization that it might be the other way around.
Word Count: 9.6k
Warnings/Tags: Bucky is so bad at feelings, Reader is an unreliable narrator, miscommunication at its finest, happy ending, Reader is very oblivious (it’s bad)
A/N: Is it realistic for somebody to get jealous over a cat? Probably not (keyword being probably), but I thought it was funny, so here you guys go! First post on this account :) Enjoy!
Masterlist
Cats.
You, like many people, adore the creatures.
They can be affectionate and cuddly on good days, purring and rubbing up against you as if nothing else exists. However, they can also be mischievous little demons.
Either way, you’ve always loved cats.
Recently, you had been planning on getting a cat, but after moving in with the rest of the team, the plan had been put on hold.
It was a tragedy. You were really looking forward to adopting one for yourself. You weren’t exactly sure if pets were allowed in the Watchtower. Technically, you didn’t see any rules against it, but you didn’t want to adopt a pet immediately after getting new roommates.
That being said, you did ask Valentina, but that didn’t really go well.
-
You shuffled anxiously, hearing the phone ring before it eventually picked up. “Hey, so—”
“Is this an emergency? You do know this number is for emergencies only, correct?” She said, and you could practically see the eye roll.
“Welllll, not exactly, but you haven’t exactly been around for us to ask any questions. You also don’t respond to my texts…” You trailed off, mumbling the last line. It’s not as if you wanted her around, but it would have solved this issue ages ago.
She remained silent for a moment, and you heard her sigh, exasperated. “Well, what is it?” She asked.
“The policy for pets?”
She sputtered for a moment, “I’m sorry, what?”
“Pets,” you said slowly as if talking to a child, “can we have them?”
She huffed, and sharp laughter rang in your ears. “Oh, absolutely not.”
You exhaled, “Damn…” You mutter to yourself, thinking she wouldn’t catch it.
“I do not want to see a pet there. I don’t care if it’s a dog, cat, guinea pig, snake, or turtle. No pets. Now, please, save this number for emergencies only. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone before you got a word in.
You soon realized after that incident that either people didn’t know about the policy, or didn’t care (likely the latter).
You didn’t immediately notice the animals. You weren’t even sure if they were always there or a new addition. The story of how you found out is actually pretty anticlimactic.
Yelena walked in with a guinea pig in hand.
That's really about it.
You watched as she sat down on the couch, petting the animal without a care in the world. You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t sure if this was a deliberate act of rebellion or if Yelena just didn’t know. Either way, you didn’t mind. You just needed to know where everybody stood, you know, for… reasons.
“Did Valentina ever mention the policy for pets?” You asked casually, walking over to sit next to Yelena. The guinea pig crawls over her lap into yours. You smile as you pet them gently.
Yelena pauses, “You know what? I don’t know.” She looks down at the guinea pig on your lap, “I also don’t really care. I don’t think Valentina knows I have her anyway.”
You nod, chuckling. “Fair enough. Would you care if she told you otherwise?”
Yelena laughs before her smile falls, “Not one bit.”
Frankly, you find it hard to believe Valentina did not notice the guinea pig. She seems like the type to have cameras everywhere and have constant monitoring. However, you let that slide, after all, it wasn’t exactly an animal that freely roams the tower.
What truly surprised you was the cat, or “Tower Cat” as you began to call her. She just appeared one day. Nobody said anything, no “hey guys we’re going to have a cat around, hope you don’t mind!” You wouldn’t have minded, but it's the principle that matters.
You had just finished up a solo mission. It was nothing too difficult, but you were exhausted nonetheless. You walked into the empty common area, blinking in confusion. Normally, there’s always one person here. You cautiously entered the space, looking around for any signs of life.
“Uhh, anybody home?” You asked, your voice echoing slightly in the empty space.
You walk over to the couch to try to catch a breather for a moment before you see her.
A cat. A fluffy white cat.
How’d she get in? You aren't sure, but you weren’t going to complain. You look around one more time to make sure nobody is nearby.
“Hello there!” You slowly moved to the cat loafed up on the couch. You tried to extend a hand to her, but she immediately moved away as if offended by your attempt to pet her. “Not the cuddly type, huh? That’s okay.” You now had a new goal: befriend the cat.
Over the next few weeks, you had taken to various methods of befriending Tower Cat. You had bought some toys and treats for her. While she was initially very hesitant, and you mean very hesitant, she slowly started to warm up to you. She would now walk up to you to eat the treats you offered her. You considered that progress since the first time you tried to feed her treats, she hissed at you.
The first time she approached you was a moment to be written down in history. You were hanging out in the kitchen, making yourself a quick snack, when suddenly you noticed something fluffy next to you.
You immediately paused whatever you were doing, looking down at Tower Cat. You didn’t want to scare her away, so you slowly started to turn your attention away from her. As you cooked, you noticed that she didn't leave the area. She didn't try to engage with you, but she watched you cook, never straying very far.
Eventually, when you finished, you went back to your room to grab the cat treats. To your surprise, she actually followed and made herself comfortable on your desk.
“Oh, so you just own my space now?” You asked her, grabbing a treat out of the bag. You hesitantly offered her a treat from your hand. You hadn’t tried this since the initial scratch incident. She stared at you for a moment before eventually deciding to approach you and take the treat. You withheld your gasp, allowing her to lick your hand before she became disinterested and claimed your desk as her own once more.
“You’re cool there?” You asked her.
She watched you silently.
“Okay, have fun, I guess.” You smiled, leaving the door to your room ajar in case she wanted to leave.
You weren’t sure if the rest of the team noticed the new addition, but you can’t imagine they didn’t notice. With how many former assassins and super soldiers you live with? No way they didn't notice. The first time you heard anything about it was when you were talking with Bob and Yelena.
“Oh, damn it.” Yelena sighed, groaning in frustration. You and Bob, being the only ones in the room, turned towards her. She was looking into her room, looking less than pleased.
“What happened?” You ask.
“Damn cat got into my room again. Knocked over all my stuff.” Yelena responded, walking into her room, leaving the door wide open. You watched as Tower Cat came out from her room looking innocent.
You blink, “The cat? Didn’t realize anybody knew she was here.” You looked between Yelena and Bob.
“She’s not exactly hard to miss,” Yelena said, walking out of her room, closing the door behind her. She looks down at Tower Cat before shaking her head and walking back over to you and Bob.
“It’s just that nobody talks about her. I just assumed it was one of those things that everybody sees, but never speaks about.” You leaned against the armrest of the sofa. “So I’m assuming she isn’t any of your guys’ cat?” You raised an eyebrow, looking between Yelena and Bob.
Yelena shook her head, “Nope.”
Bob similarly shook his head, “Not mine either.”
“Huh, do we know whose cat she is?” You asked.
Yelena shrugged, “I thought she just wandered in one day, and everybody let her stay. Haven’t really asked though.”
You hummed, “That’s funny. I was actually considering getting one too. Maybe it’s fate.” You joke, smiling.
Yelena laughs, “Please, take her. The first, and only, time I tried to pet her, she hissed and tried to scratch me.” You nodded in sympathy.
“Yeah, she did that to me the first time, too. She eventually warmed up to me, kinda. She actually came into my room the other day just to relax.” You said, looking over to the cat in question, who is walking through a hallway. Bob and Yelena followed your gaze, watching as the feline slowly walked over to your door before waltzing in like it was her own. “Oh, hey there she goes, what timing.” You laugh at their stunned faces.
“Does she have a name?” Bob asked.
“Well, I was gonna name her, but her original title of ‘Tower Cat’ just kinda stuck.” You explained.
“How’d you get her to like you?” He asked, looking at you with genuine curiosity.
“Treats and patience. Wanna see if we can try and get her to warm up to you a bit?” You asked, grinning.
Bob smiled, nodding silently. Yelena laughs sharply before bidding her goodbyes for the night. She did not want to deal with that cat any more than she already did that day.
That’s how you started your “Cat Time” with Bob. You grew close over your similar love of cats. However, there’d be times where Tower Cat wouldn’t be anywhere in the Watchtower, betraying her name entirely. You and Bob would walk around, checking around, but there’d be nothing. She always showed up the next day or two after, so you assumed somebody would just let her into their room, but you didn’t know who.
Eventually, after weeks of exposure, she warmed up to both you and Bob considerably. She’d hang out with you two while you watch TV or talk. Everything was going well. You finally got the cat you wanted.
Then you found she wasn’t your cat to claim.
-
If there was one person on the team where you weren’t sure where you stood, it was Bucky Barnes.
To be clear, you had tried to establish friendly relations, seeing as you were living together, but after multiple attempts being met with nothing, you eventually gave up.
When you first moved in, you wanted to make a good impression on everyone, and for all intents and purposes, you were successful.
Alexei was not very difficult. You just engage in conversation with him often and laugh. He could actually be pretty funny sometimes, much to Yelena’s embarrassment.
Ava was a bit more difficult, but she eventually warmed up to you. Sometimes when you baked, you’d offer her some cookies, and you two would talk. Yelena would join in too occasionally. Those nights were always fun.
John was John, meaning he was kinda an asshole. You eventually got somewhere with him... kinda. You both would banter back and forth, but initially it was not banter. The insults over time turned less aggressive and more along the lines of “you annoy me, but you’re alright, I guess.” In your defense, you did try to be nice to him at first, but he made that very difficult with the way he treated other people, especially in the beginning. You eventually figured it out, though.
Yelena was the easiest next to Bob. She immediately became one of your best friends. She was one of the people on the team you really looked up to. You two would often end up hanging out with each other. This was how you were introduced to Bob.
Initially, it was kind of awkward with Bob. Both of you were friends by association, meaning you both liked Yelena, but didn’t really know each other. Eventually, once Tower Cat came into the picture, you both would hang out. You realized how funny he was once you actually got to know him. This led to a lot of late nights with you, Yelena, Bob, and Tower Cat. Sometimes Yelena would insist that Tower Cat must go, but for the most part, that was your little group.
So overall, you thought you did a good job establishing a positive relationship with the team. If you try to forget about Bucky, that is. You almost feel embarrassed thinking about it. By the end, you had gotten pretty desperate and had tried bringing him coffee in the mornings, or checking in to see if he was injured after missions. If you two were friends and your efforts had succeeded, you wouldn’t be embarrassed. However, they failed, and failed miserably.
The coffee incident? You wince even thinking about it.
“Oh, hey, I left some coffee on the counter for you. Not sure how you like it, so I left the sugar to the side.” You smiled as you watched Bucky walk in. He looked like he had just woken up, hair disheveled, rubbing his eyes.
He looked over to you before glancing at the mug you left for him, filled with coffee. He nodded slowly, walking over to it hesitantly. He stared at it for a bit before clearing his throat, “I was actually going to go to the gym.”
You tried not to sigh and look over at him. “No worries. I’ll just, uh, clean it up.”
He nods, looking at you, muttering a small “Thanks anyway.”
As he walks away, you immediately feel embarrassed. Well, that was pathetic.
Of course, that wasn’t the only embarrassing incident.
Bucky had been returning from a mission with John. However, you only saw Bucky exit the elevator and head toward his room. You noticed that his face had a deep cut on it.
“Hey, you need help with that?” You asked, walking over to him. He paused before looking at you.
He smiled reassuringly, but you can see in his eyes he’d rather be anywhere else than talking with you. “I’m good, thanks.”
You blinked, watching as blood dripped down his face from the wound. “You sure? I don’t mind-”
“I am fine.” He cut you off. “I will be fine, thanks.” He told you, not even looking you in the eye. His words sounded so final that you didn’t even try to follow him. He closed the door behind him, leaving you staring at it.
That was when you realized that the “good impression” mission you had was a failure.
You had tried, and maybe it was because of your personality, you aren’t sure. He just did not like you. After that incident, you backed off of him, not offering aid or doing small gestures for him. His previous interactions sent you a clear message, and you received it.
Were you hurt by it? A little. You did put effort into trying to make him at least think you were an okay person. You couldn't help but admire him from a distance. Anyway, you tried not to take it too personally, after all, he’s been through a lot. He probably just isn’t comfortable with you, which you get, but it still hurts putting in effort for such blatant disregard.
So you can imagine your surprise when he approaches you on a random day.
-
“. . . and I was so confused, like how did you come to that conclusion?” You raise your hands, gesturing confusedly. Bob chuckles at your outrage.
You sigh, putting your hands down, petting Tower Cat on your lap softly. “I dunno, I was just so over it. I eventually confronted her, and she had the AUDACITY to act confused.” You continue to rant, neither you nor Bob noticing the elevator opening.
“And I’m assuming you weren’t going to let that slide?” Bob asks with a soft, amused smile on his face. You grin back at him.
“Not a chance. So—”
“Is that Alpine?”
You and Bob immediately turn toward Bucky. You blink. “When’d you get here?” You ask.
“Just now,” he pauses, “since when did Alpine start hanging out with you two?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.
“‘Alpine?’” You repeat the foreign name back at him. You and Bob look at Tower Cat, or apparently “Alpine.”
You look up at Bucky, “She’s your cat?” You feel your mouth drop in surprise.
“Whose cat did you think she was?” He asks, looking at you in disbelief.
“I thought she was like the communal tower cat or something.” You say, your voice quiet as if that will quell Bucky’s growing bewilderment.
“The ‘communal tower cat?’” He repeats incredulously.
“Okay, sorry, sorry.” You apologize profusely, hoping that he won’t murder you for taking his cat. Bucky seems to stare at you for what feels like forever. You shift uncomfortably under his stare.
“Uh, you can have her back, if you want.” You eventually say, mumbling the last part. Bucky just continues to stare at Alpine in your lap. You look toward Bob to see if he is feeling the same awkward tension you are. He quickly glances at you, then Bucky, then back at you before shifting awkwardly.
You try to pick up Alpine without disturbing her. The moment you try, her eyes snap open. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” You coo softly to the cat. You offhandedly notice Bucky shifts stiffly.
“Bucky’s back, though. Wanna go with him?” You speak softly to her. In response, she pushes herself closer to you, purring against your collarbone. “Aw, I’m sorry, I wanna cuddle with you more too.” You frown at her before gently handing her to Bucky. Your hands brush his as you try to give her to Bucky without disturbing her too much.
She meows softly, and you feel your heart break. “Didn’t realize you liked cats,” Bucky says.
Bob laughs, and you both turn to him before he covers it with a cough and low “Sorry.” He knows you love cats.
“Love them.” You respond with a strained smile. He looks at you for a moment longer. Eventually, you clear your throat and look away from his gaze, “Sorry, Bucky.”
Bucky seems to stare at you for a moment longer before leaving. Not a word said, he just leaves.
“Well, at least we know why Tower Cat or ‘Alpine’ disappears some nights,” you comment, Bob shaking his head, amused, “but damn, he hates me.” You whisper as if Bucky will hear you, and knowing him, you can’t be too sure.
“I doubt that. He just has…” Bob pauses for a moment, trying to find the word for it, “struggles.”
You huff, “Yeah, that’s one way to say it. I don’t even know what I did to him. It’s not my fault your cat likes me.” Actually, it is your fault, but Bucky doesn’t need to know the details.
In your defense, Alpine did just waltz around the entire place like she owned it. There was no indication she was owned, let alone owned by Bucky of all people.
“He do that often?” Bob asks. You raise an eyebrow at him to elaborate. “The staring.”
You scoff, “Only in days that end in ‘y.’” You shift on the couch so that you’re lying down instead of sitting. “I assumed it’s one of his weird quirks. I thought it was just a former assassin thing where he just stares at you as if assessing if you’re a threat,” you hold your hand up to emphasize your next point, “which I am not.”
“Maybe he thinks you’re pretty?” Bob suggests, and you laugh loudly, making him raise his eyebrows at you in slight concern.
You smile at Bob, “That’s so sweet,” you put your hand on his shoulder gently, “but so very wrong.”
Bob shakes his head but smiles, “You never know.”
You shake your head confidently. “No, I do. He’s probably planning different ways to kill me if needed. The stare of ‘I’m planning your murder because you took my cat.’” You stick your hands up into the air, doing jazz hands, still staring up at the ceiling.
“Is that a thing?” Bob asks, doubtful.
You look at him, contemplative. “I don’t know, but if it was, he definitely invented it.” You respond.
Bob frowns, but he nods, agreeing with the sentiment anyway.
-
You initially thought Bucky was jealous of you.
After all, Alpine decided that you were now her favorite person, and Alpine was his cat. Therefore, it’d make sense if he were a little upset over how Alpine clung to you.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little smug.
“Hey, whatcha guys doing?” You walk into the common area, watching as the team stands surrounding the center coffee table.
“Don’t fuck this up—”
“Shut up, John. I’m trying to concentrate.” Yelena cuts him off.
You eventually walk over and see the situation.
“What are you doing?! Don’t pick that one!” John points at the Jenga tower in front of him. Yelena leans over it, slowly tugging at a piece that’s halfway out.
Yelena stops, turning toward John, “John, I swear if you don’t be quiet, I will knock over this tower on purpose.” She points a finger at him, and he mutters a quick “Okay,” his hands held up in mock surrender.
You notice that on the couch sits Bucky Barnes himself, which immediately strikes you as odd. Bucky, while not explicitly against these little bonding activities, didn’t ever seem to care for participating in them. He’d support them, but from his own room. Seeing him actively engaging with these activities is definitely new. You also notice that Alpine is curled up on his lap.
Everybody else is standing, eagerly watching the game of Jenga. It appears that Yelena and John are on a team, which is a concerning team-up on its own, and Ava and Alexei are on a team. Bob seems content watching the game.
“GOT IT!” Yelena raises the Jenga piece into the air in victory.
Ava groans, looking at the tower, and you feel her pain. There were seemingly no good moves. You decide to walk up to Yelena and John to see how they’re doing.
“Oh, finally decided to join us?” Yelena pats you on the shoulder as you walk up to her.
“Didn’t realize you guys would be out here still.” You admit, you’d come back from a walk around the city.
John shrugs, nodding his head slightly, “Yeah, I didn’t think we’d still be here either.” He mutters.
You raise an eyebrow, “How long have you guys been at it?”
“Eh, not that long.” Yelena waves a hand casually.
”Two hours.” John deadpans at the same time.
You chuckle, deciding to sit down. “For one game?”
“We’re determined.” Yelena joins you on the couch.
You smile, nodding, “Say, since when did he start joining?” You quickly glance at Bucky, sitting on the other couch.
Yelena shrugs, “I don’t know, why?”
“Well, I mean, he just doesn’t ever show up to these. Was wondering how you guys got him to actually sit through a game.” You whisper, hoping he can’t hear you. However, you suddenly get the feeling that he’s watching you. You try to discreetly look at him, but when you do, he’s still staring at the game in front of him.
“What happened?” John asks, hovering over you and Yelena sat over on the couch.
“None of your business.” Yelena rolls her eyes.
“Well, if you are talking about B—”
“Oh, so now you’re eavesdropping.” You click your tongue, disappointed in him.
“You guys aren’t quiet.” He looks unimpressed.
“That’s not fair. We are quiet by normal people’s standards.” You turn to face him. You’re so focused on proving John wrong that you don’t even register Ava yelling “Alpine! No! Get off the table!”
“Well, I thought to inform you that perhaps the person you’re discussing can hear you, seeing as he wouldn’t fall into ‘normal people standards.’” John does air quotes.
You slowly turn to see if Bucky is watching you three have your not-so-quiet discussion. To your surprise, he is looking at you. Also, to your surprise, everybody is looking at you.
You feel yourself shrinking under their scrutiny. Did they all hear your conversation? “What?”
“The kitty cat likes you! I did not think she liked anybody.” Alexei laughs, and you furrow your brows, confused. You eventually sit up to find Alpine looking up at you, sitting right at your feet.
“Oh.”
She meows before hopping onto your lap. Yelena immediately shifts away from you, and John similarly moves away.
“Keep her there, please? She almost knocked over the tower.” Ava sounds exhausted.
“Uh, yeah sure.” You respond, still processing everything that just happened. No wonder Bucky was looking at you.
You glance up at him to find him no longer sitting laxly, but instead leaning forward, staring directly at you.
You grimace, trying to mouth an apology to him, but his expression stays the same. By this point, everybody else is sucked into the game again, except you two. You think that maybe he’ll just resolve to stare at you for the rest of the game, but no, he stands up.
Alpine purrs on your lap, but not even that can ease your growing stress levels as you see Bucky maneuver his way to your couch. You expected him to talk to you, perhaps ask for his precious cat back, but he does none of that.
Instead, he sits on the couch with you, saying nothing. He makes himself comfortable as if this is a normal occurrence. He decided to sit on the other side of the couch, pretty much the furthest he can sit from you while still being on the cushions. You can’t help but glance at him a few times, as if that would elicit an explanation.
Alpine looks up at you as you stare at the game in front of you, rigidly. You don’t dare to move or say anything. After minutes of silence from you two, you eventually turn toward him.
“Did you want Alpine back?” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, as if afraid that any louder would garner the team’s attention once more.
He turns toward you, and for the first time, you are struck by how blue his eyes are.
“It’s fine.” He matches your volume, glancing toward Alpine on your lap. If you weren’t looking for any sort of reaction, you wouldn’t have caught the way his eyes narrowed as he gazed upon Alpine in your lap.
You feel obligated to give Alpine back, even if every bone in your body is telling you to keep her. He even said, “It’s fine,” meaning it is definitely not fine. That, combined with the narrowed look towards his cat, probably means that he wants his cat back right now.
“No, really,” you start to shift, Alpine’s purring ceasing, “it’s okay. Sorry about that.” Just as you’re about to pick her up to give her to Bucky, he reaches over and gestures for you to stop, putting a hand on your shoulder.
He says your name, making you pause as your hands freeze under Alpine, ready to pick her up. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. If she likes you, she can stay with you.” You nod, very aware that his hand is still on your shoulder.
“If you’re sure…” You trail off hesitantly.
“I am.” He looks at you smiling, but can’t help but think it looks forced.
The rest of the night continued without a hitch. The game of Jenga eventually ended, with Ava and Alexei winning. John swore that he saw Ava cheat and phase her hand through the tower in order to grab a piece at just the right angle, but he couldn’t prove it. He grumbled about it for the rest of the night, taking snips at them, but he eventually let it go.
Throughout the entire night, you sat there with Alpine. Bucky did not ask for her. However, you did notice that every now and then, he’d turn to look at you, or more accurately, look at Alpine. You thought that maybe he did want to say something, but didn’t want to cause a huge scene. You would’ve assumed it’d be to ask for his cat back, but he seemed insistent that you keep her.
So you sat, watching as the team started slowly turning in for the night. As one by one went, you waited for Bucky to say something, anything, yet he sat there.
By the time almost everybody left, it was just you two. You had pulled out your phone by this point in order to look as if you were busy. Feeling a weight lift itself from your lap, you look and see Alpine get off of you, slowly walking across the couch to make her way to Bucky. You decide that this is your cue to leave.
You stand up, brushing off loose cat fur left on you. Just as you are about to leave, you sneak a glance toward Bucky, only to find he is already staring at you.
“Sorry about that.” You break the silence, casually pointing at his cat, as if his whole behavior hasn’t put you on edge all night.
He seems surprised that you spoke to him, looking from you down to Alpine. “It’s alright. She seemed to like being close to you.” You thought you could detect a hint of bitterness in his tone.
“Yeah,” you chuckle, unsure how to respond.
Silence permeates the room once again. “Well, I’m gonna head out.” You slowly start walking towards your room. “Good night,” You bid him before turning around and heading out, not expecting a response.
“Night,” he returns softly.
You pause in your retreat, turning around, to see him looking down at Alpine. You offer him a small smile before heading back into your room.
-
So yeah, you thought that between the constant looks, bitterness, and not-so-subtle glares, he was jealous.
Not wanting to fuel his anger, you tried to avoid being in the room at the same time Alpine would be with Bucky. Alpine could be cuddled next to you, but the moment Bucky walked in, you’d vanish.
He gave you weird looks, as if he were trying to figure out what your deal was. You just continued to give him a polite smile every time.
Cooking in the kitchen was always an invitation for Alpine to join. She liked it when you cooked because she’d just watch you, and Alpine decided watching you cook was the most fascinating thing. You didn’t mind, so you let her.
You wash the final dish before going to consume the results of your Alpine-monitored cooking session. Just as you’re about to eat, Bucky comes walking in. You make direct eye contact with him, before glancing to Alpine perched on the counter next to you.
“What are you doing?” He asks, approaching you two.
“Eating,” you look down at your plate of food, “I was going to go eat in my room anyway. Alpine is all yours.” You did not plan on eating in your room, but you did that night.
Incidents like this didn’t stop as you had hoped.
Whenever you folded your laundry, Alpine would magically find her way onto your clean clothes. She liked the warmth, and so she’d make herself cozy. You pretended to be upset, but you enjoyed her company.
Then you hear a knock at your door, which was already open, so you turn around to see Bucky.
You can’t mask your surprise before he makes a comment. He clears his throat, “Sorry, I was just wondering if Alpine was in here.” You shift to the side, allowing him to see the very asleep feline on your bed in a pile of clothes. You immediately put down any hangers in your hand.
“I am so sorry. Here, sorry.” You gently pick up Alpine, apologizing to both her and Bucky. She meows softly, annoyed at being disturbed from her rest. You would be upset too if you were suddenly woken up and removed from warmth. “Sorry, she just likes sitting on the warm clothes. Here, take her back.” You give Bucky the fluffy cat, and he looks hesitant to accept her, but does so anyway.
“I’m sorry about that, won't happen again.” You smile, embarrassed. Bucky stares at you as you slowly shut the door on him and cover your face in embarrassment.
What made all of these incidents worse is that instead of becoming less frequent over time, they seemed to almost increase in frequency as time went on. You’d always see Bucky or Alpine. You couldn’t walk around the tower without seeing one of the two. Even worse, once one shows up, it wouldn’t take long before the other magically appeared.
You would be sitting with the team, Alpine on your lap, when the sound of the elevator would ring out. Most of the time, it wouldn’t be an issue, but since you had Alpine on your lap, it had to be Bucky because the universe hates you.
“Do you still want to try that new cafe you were talking about earlier?” Ava crosses her legs as she leans back in one of the chairs.
You grin, “Oh yeah! I heard their pastries were amazing.” You pet Alpine as you pick her up to walk around with. She wouldn’t let anybody else hold her, even Bob, but she would allow you to hold her. Actually, now that you think about it, she’d probably let Bucky hold her too, but you haven’t asked him (and you don’t plan to).
“Did you wanna try and go today? I don’t know when exactly they’re busy, but we can always check.” You walk around the coffee table already thinking about what you might order once you get there.
Then the elevator rang out.
Unconcerned, you turned around to welcome the newcomer. That is, until the doors open to reveal Bucky.
Feet frozen in place, you look down at Alpine in your arms. Bucky walks out of the elevator and immediately meets your eyes before he looks at your arms.
You don’t break eye contact with him as you slowly put Alpine down on the ground. Immediately, she heads over to Bucky and rubs up against him.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, despite not being very apologetic. If given the chance, you'd absolutely pick her up again. To make things worse, you completely forgot that Bucky can definitely hear you. Feeling his focus shift from Alpine onto you, you internally wince.
Forgetting Ava is witnessing this interaction, you hear her call your name out, and you turn to face her. “Sorry, what?”
“Do you wanna head out now?” She looks between you and Bucky, raising an eyebrow.
“Absolutely, let’s go.” You nod enthusiastically, ignoring the piercing eyes on your back.
“Where are you two going?” Bucky asks, grabbing Alpine for himself and holding her in the same position you were sporting not even a minute before. Hoping Ava won’t say anything, you look dead into her eyes, pleading.
“New cafe,” she ignores your plea, “wanna come with us?” Feeling your stomach drop, you decide to confront the problem yourself by doing the one thing he does best: staring directly into his eyes.
He matches your stare, unsurprisingly, and then looks towards Ava. “You sure?” He asks hesitantly.
“Yeah, it’s all good. We were planning on asking Yelena to come with us anyway.” Ava dismisses casually, as if this isn’t gonna be a miserable trip.
Continuing your staring contest, he breaks the silence with one dreadful word: “Sure.” He ends whatever trance you two were in, turning to smile at Ava before returning his gaze to you.
“Alright,” Ava gives you two an odd look, “well, I’m gonna go grab Lena, I’ll be back in a minute.” She starts to walk away, and you feel your soul leave with her.
“You sure this is okay?” Bucky questions, startling you.
You nod, turning to face him, “Yeah, she said it was all good.” You smile at him.
He nods slowly, “Yeah, ‘she said,’” he quotes, “I was asking if you are okay with me coming along.”
You nod, “Yep, no issue with it.” You lie.
He nods, watching you and definitely not believing you, “Alright, if you say so.” He walks over to the couches where you’re standing by. “Didn’t realize she liked you that much that she let you carry her.” He comments casually.
You immediately understand the hidden meaning. He may seem all innocent there, standing with a fluffy cat in his arms purring up against his chest, but you know it isn’t that simple. He is challenging you right now. He is asking you how you managed to win her affections over and is silently reminding you that she is not yours. Talk about being passive-aggressive.
You keep your smile, “Yeah, it’s actually pretty crazy. She doesn’t even let Bob hold her. To be honest, I’m surprised she let me carry her around.”
Bucky smiles, it’s softer than you expected. “Perhaps she feels as if you’re a safe person to be around.
You nod, humming in acknowledgment.
“Alright, are we ready? Come on, I want to get some coffee.” Yelena walks out, Ava at her side.
“It’s almost nine at night.” Ava comments in disbelief.
“Yeah?” Yelena pauses, “Well, I like coffee. Let’s go.” She enters the elevator, waiting for you all to join her.
The elevator ride wasn’t as awkward as you thought. Yelena and Ava managed to ease the tension for the most part. Whether or not they were even aware of it is a discussion of its own, but knowing them, they probably knew.
The walk to the coffee shop wasn’t very eventful either, for the most part. About halfway through, you realize that Ava and Yelena are heavily engrossed in their own conversation. Earlier, you couldn’t stop talking, but as the topics changed, you started to say less and less as they transitioned to your less knowledgeable topics. By this point, you didn’t even know what they were talking about. This led to you walking ahead of them.
To your surprise, somebody else decided to join you in what you thought was your brief solo walking moment.
“They seem to be passionate.” Bucky comments, and you both look behind you to see Ava nodding her head with a drawn-out “Yes!” All of this occurs while Yelena gestures wildly, seemingly approving of Ava’s agreement.
“Huh, yeah, I guess so.” You add on, amused. You two walk in silence for a moment before you eventually just decide to ask the question bugging your mind. “So, uh,” you pause as Bucky immediately gives you his full attention, “why exactly did you want to come?” You look at him.
He seems slightly taken aback by your question, but smiles anyway. “I like coffee, you guys said the cafe was good.”
You nod along, finding yourself questioning previous incidents. You had offered him coffee before, and he had decidedly not accepted it. So either he was lying, or he just really wanted to embarrass you that one time. You can’t tell which one is worse.
“You do? Really?” You ask, unconvinced.
“Yeah.” You laugh at his answer, “What?” He asks, matching the smirk on your face. “You don’t believe me?” He asks, acting as if he’s offended.
You continue to laugh, and he once again stares at you, resolute. “No, no, I believe you.” You smile at him.
He looks at you, nodding as if accepting that to be the end of that discussion. You eventually stop at the door of the cafe. The moment you’re about to open it, Bucky puts his hand in front of you, halting your action. You pause. What is he about to do?
Dazed for a moment, you watch as he opens the door for you. You smile at how unabashedly old-fashioned he is.
“Thank you.” You tell him, walking in. He smiles at the gratitude, garnering Yelena and Ava’s attention.
“What is it you are doing?” Yelena asks him as she walks inside. Bucky follows in behind her and Ava.
“Holding the door?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.
“No shit. I meant the” she gestures to her own face then to Bucky, “smile.”
“Am I not allowed to smile?” Bucky asks, disbelief written all over his face.
“I mean, you can,” Ava asks, but even she seems doubtful of her statement, “you just… don’t.”
“Oh, so you want me to have a restriction on being happy now?” Bucky asks, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. The three of them join you in line.
“I mean, I thought you already did.” Yelena blatantly admits. You all turn to her, “What?”
“Next up!” You roll your eyes at their discussion before going to the counter and telling the barista your order. Yelena and Ava peep over your shoulder and tell her their order as well. However, Bucky stands behind you three silently.
“What do you want?” You ask him.
He pauses, “Uh, black coffee.”
“‘Black coffee?’” You repeat, and he nods in confirmation. It was the exact same coffee he had rejected months ago.
“Okay, black coffee for him.” You turn back towards the barista, telling her your name before pulling out your card to pay.
Just as you’re about to tap the card, Bucky pulls you back, “Hey—” He taps his card.
“Oh, thanks, Bucky.” Yelena nods at him. Ava also gives him a quick “Thanks.”
You look up at him, suddenly feeling unsure about everything. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs, “I wanted to.”
“Thanks.” You tell him, and he accepts your gratitude with a nod before you all find a table to sit at.
This whole situation is odd. You genuinely thought he hated you. Well, hate is extreme, but he decidedly went out of his way to avoid your previous attempts at friendship.
Tagging along to a cafe with you, walking with you, and generally acting like a gentleman was not exactly what you expected this trip to be. You expected more backhanded compliments like before. If this was some sort of way to get to you, he was really playing the long game.
He hasn’t mentioned Alpine once during this whole excursion. It makes you wonder if you’ll have to be the one to confront him about that. That’s not exactly something you want to do, but you feel like it’s coming anyway.
You take a look at him to see how he’s faring here. He’s in a deep conversation with Yelena and Ava, all leaning away from you. You can’t hear what they’re discussing, but Yelena and Ava both make eye contact with you throughout their little talk. You aren’t even sure if you want to know what they’re talking about.
Hearing the barista call your name, you grab the drinks and pastries for the group, and you thank them before heading back to the table.
“So,” Ava starts cautiously at your return, glancing at Bucky for a split second before looking back at you, “when did you two… start?” She gestures between you and Bucky.
You take a slow sip of your drink. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You know this whole,” Yelena interjects, “thing you two have going on. It’s painful.” She takes a sip of her coffee.
Suddenly, the room feels hot, and it doesn’t help that your drink is also hot. You turn to Bucky, but he just looks at Yelena and Ava, bored. You take another sip, hoping he will say something, anything.
After a period of silence, you accept the fact that he will not be denying anything, so you eventually speak up. “No idea what you’re talking about.” You shrug.
What makes it worse is that you truly don’t know. Your excuse is terrible, and so they will think you’re lying when you genuinely have no idea.
Ava nods her head, “Mhm, okay.” She says, looking between you two.
You turn towards Bucky, who has not taken a sip of his coffee once. “Thought it was your favorite.” His attention snaps to you.
”I never said that.” He shakes his head.
“Then why’d you order it?” You raise an eyebrow, amused.
He looks at you before taking a long, slow sip of his coffee. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “Happy?” He asks.
You smile, “Thrilled.”
Walking home is not exactly silent, after all, you’re in New York, but it’s definitely quieter. Once again, Bucky decides to walk next to you. He makes a big deal about you being on the outside of the sidewalk, you roll your eyes, but let him have his moment.
You turn around every now and then to check and make sure Ava and Yelena are behind you. However, every time you turn around, they are already looking at you. Ava gives you a nod with a small smirk, and Yelena gives you a thumbs up. You give them a horrified look the first time it happens. However, by the third time you turn around and they repeat their same shenanigans, you give up, shaking your head, trusting that they will stay behind you and Bucky for the rest of the walk.
When you get back to the tower, you all enter the elevator. The ride up is relatively quiet, but then the door opens. You walk out, Bucky on your left, and John walks by, turning to see who came back, only to look at you two with an appalled expression.
“Did you two go on a date?” John looks at Bucky as if doubting what he’s seeing.
Ava and Yelena step out right after John’s question. “No, they just walked side by side together, and got coffee while teasing each other across our table.” Yelena walks over.
Alpine makes her presence known and walks over to you, rubbing herself against you. “You wanna take her for the night?” Bucky leans toward you, whispering to your ear. You feel your heart rate increase.
“Oh God, they’re sharing custody over the damn cat.” You hear John remark, exasperated. You both ignore him.
You frown at him. For somebody who is so protective of his cat, you would never have expected an offer as gracious as this one. “Are… are you sure?” You ask him hesitantly.
He smirks, amused, “Yes, I’m sure.”
You nod slowly, “And you won’t be upset?”
He tilts his head slightly, “Why would I?”
You look at him, his eyes on you with a fondness that sends your stomach whirling. You feel instantly conflicted. Why is he acting like this? What happened to being upset about you stealing Alpine’s affection? Were you wrong? There’s no way you were wrong. He was definitely upset when he commented about how much she liked you.
“We should go.” Ava looks towards the remaining team members who are watching you and Bucky. “Give them some privacy.”
John scoffs, “‘Privacy?’ There is no privacy here.”
“Just because you ruined your love life doesn’t mean you have to be bitter over other people’s, John.” Yelena snaps, disapprovingly.
His eyebrows raise, “Jesus, okay. Let’s give them some privacy.” He walks away from them, not even checking to see if Yelena and Ava follow behind him.
As that whole discussion went down, Bucky continued to look at you, confused.
“I just thought you might be upset?” You eventually respond to his question, unsure whether you're stating something or asking.
“Over you sleeping with my cat next to you?” He asks, sounding progressively more perplexed.
You open your mouth to say yes, but the look he gives you leaves you speechless. You try to say something, but everything that your brain comes up with sounds unreasonable. How do you tell somebody that yes, you thought they’d be upset that you were snuggling with their cat?
He huffs, his voice softening, “Why would I be upset about that?” You briefly wonder if he can read minds, but shove that thought away.
You eventually muster enough brain power to speak, “It’s stupid.”
He looks at you, shaking his head, “I doubt that.”
“No, it’s really fucking stupid. You’re going to think I’m insane after this.” You reiterate.
“I promise I won’t think you’re insane.” He chuckles, picking up Alpine, who was demanding attention.
You remain silent for a moment, staring at him, holding Alpine in his arms. Both Bucky and Alpine stare at you as if awaiting your response. You look around, as if checking to make sure nobody is going to hear what you’re about to say.
“I thought you were jealous…” you look up at him, finding him patiently waiting for you to explain, “of me taking Alpine all the time.” You look away from him.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you look at him once more. He isn’t reacting at all. You shift on your feet, unnerved. Suddenly, he cracks a small smile, exhaling amused. However, your dismayed reaction causes his smile to fall.
“How on Earth did you come to that conclusion?” He desperately tries to keep the amusement out of his voice, but you can hear it as clear as day, much to your chagrin.
You open your mouth to explain, but hesitate for a brief moment. “So you’re not jealous of me taking Alpine… I just wanna confirm.” You mutter.
He shakes his head, amusement lighting up his eyes, but he humors you, “No. I am not jealous of you taking Alpine.”
You walk over to the couch and sit down, leaning over and placing your palms against your eyes. “So you weren’t making passive-aggressive comments about me taking her?”
“No, promise.” He confirms, joining you on the couch.
“Okay, well,” you look towards Bucky, who nods for you to continue, “I thought you hated me cause in the past every time I tried to talk to you, you’d just ignore me. So eventually I just kinda assumed that you did not like me. Then you saw me with Alpine, and started acting weird, so I was like ‘oh no, he’s going to be upset that I took his cat.’” You ramble, watching Bucky’s eyes get wider as you progress.
“You thought I hated you?” He asks, as if the concept were absurd.
“Yeah, I mean, there was that time I made coffee for you and you just rejected it. Then I also tried to help out with an injury you got during a mission, and you said no and sounded upset at me, so I just figured you didn’t like me around you.” You explain sheepishly.
Bucky exhales harshly, “I never disliked you. I thought it was sweet when you did all that.”
You blink, “You did?”
He laughs, Alpine moving off his lap onto yours. “Yes, I did.”
You frown, “But you always rejected my offers.”
Now he avoids eye contact, “Well,” he locks eyes with Alpine, “I didn’t know how to approach you. I didn’t know how to talk to you without messing everything up, so I didn’t. I was scared.”
“‘Scared?’ Scared of what? Me?” You repeat.
He laughs softly, “Terrified.”
“I am like the least scary person on the team. Why the hell would you be scared?” You laugh at the idea.
“Because,” he looks at you, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly before going back up to your eyes. You look at him, anxiously awaiting his response.
“You said you thought I was jealous of you,” he shifts the topic, “because you won Alpine’s affection.” He shook his head at the thought. “I was never jealous of you.” He reiterates, moving closer to you. You remain in your spot, watching as he grabs your hand. “I was jealous of her.” He looks down, smiling at the ridiculous notion.
“Of… Alpine?” You repeat dubiously.
“Because,” he looks up to meet your eyes, “she was able to get close to you. She was able to just insert herself into your life like she always belonged.” He looks down at Alpine purring on your lap. “Something I wasn’t able to do.”
You take a deep breath, “I thought you disliked me…”
He shakes his head, “I could never. I was stupid, but I have never once disliked you. I never wanted to hurt you, but I guess I did that anyway.” He exhales with a soft huff of laughter, but there’s no humor.
“This whole time?” You ask softly. “This whole time you’ve…” You glance down at his hands, clasped in your own.
He nods slowly, “All this time.” He confirms softly.
You gape at him, not saying a word. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something. Instead, you say nothing, shifting closer to him on the couch, closing what little space is between you two. Alpine doesn’t even move from your lap despite the disturbance. You look at him, and his lips part open. Your eyes flicker between his eyes and lips, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Slowly, you inch closer, giving him time to back out. You feel his breathing quicken before you close the gap.
It wasn’t a long kiss, but a soft one. You barely linger, removing yourself from him, before he can react. His mouth is slightly open out of pure awe. He looks at you, as if ready to lean in again, pupils dilated. You put your hand on his chest, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise.
“At least take me out on a date first, Barnes.” You smirk, chuckling breathlessly despite the short-lived kiss.
He grins, looking awestruck, eyes lighting up with that same amusement from earlier, “I did.” He squeezes your hand tighter, trying to move you closer once again.
You shake your head, “No. You tagged along to my cafe quest with two other team members.”
He chuckles, looking down in disbelief that this is even happening. “I would take you out on a date every single day if you asked me,” he rubs his thumbs along your hands. “But all I want right now, all I need right now, is you.” He slowly raises his arm up to hold your face, his hand cradling you gently.
You feel your face heat up at his words, “You drive a hard bargain…” You pretend to think about it. Eventually, you shift yourself so that you're leaning against him. Alpine looks up at you two, annoyed. “Aw, did we disturb you?” You ask her. She meows before climbing to rest on both you and Bucky. You laugh, feeling her purring resume and leaning just a little closer to him.
-
“Oh my God.” You blink away the sleepiness from your eyes. Oh, right, you’re still on the couch from last night. Alpine is on top of Bucky’s chest, peacefully asleep. You are cuddled up next to Bucky’s side.
“What the fuck, we sit there.” John sounds affronted, loosely gesturing to you and Bucky on the couch. “You could’ve gone to your room to do that.”
Bucky, now also awake, raises an eyebrow at him. “Sleep?”
“You know what you did.” John narrows his eyes at you two. You stand up, stretching as the rest of the team walks in.
“What happened?” Yelena asks, walking in.
“Nothing, we just fell asleep on the couch last night. Nothing crazy.” You shrug, giving a pointed look to John.
“Oh, so you two figured it out, great.” Yelena walks over to make herself coffee.
“You knew?” You walk over to her, not entirely surprised. You notice in your peripherals that Bucky, still lying down, is now being scrutinized by the rest of the team, John standing over him disapprovingly.
Yelena pauses, giving you a look. “Yes, I knew… Everybody knew. You even asked me about him.”
“Yeah! He stares at you like you hung stars.” Alexei adds on, pointing to the ceiling.
“You mean the moon?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Eh, moon and stars.” He adds on.
You roll your eyes, looking over at Bucky. He’s sitting on the couch, the rest of the team asking him various questions, presumably about you two. Seeing him now, he looks so stoic. Then, almost as if he can feel you watching, he turns towards you, and you physically see his eyes soften.
“Oh wow, he’s bad,” Yelena comments next to you, watching him. You laugh at her, but continue to admire just how soft he looks. The image is something you could not have imagined merely weeks ago, but now you have the pleasure of experiencing it.
“I’m glad it worked out, it was getting difficult to watch,” Yelena adds.
You give a small smile, “Thank the cat.” You look down at the feline rubbing up against your legs.
I hope you guys enjoyed that! This is my first Marvel fic so it might take a moment for me to find my footing. I really don't want to make characters too ooc, so feel free to leave any feedback. Thank you for reading if you made it all the way through :D
