“THIS ISN’T ABOUT SHARON”
(IT’S TOTALLY ABOUT SHARON)
(aka: Bucky Barnes is Jealous, Vol. 87)
(Featuring: Bucky Barnes slowly combusting, Steve Rogers being tragically dumb, Sharon Carter weaponizing charm, and a cat named Alpine with better emotional intelligence than both men combined.)
It started with Sharon saying, “Wow, Captain, your shoulders look even broader lately.”
And it ended (so far) with Bucky wondering if it was physically possible to flip a conference table without breaking eye contact.
He sat across the room, legs crossed, arms folded tightly, watching Sharon flirt with Steve like she was trying to land an internship in his personal space.
She laughed at everything. Everything.
“Oh, you lead a team of elite soldiers and survived being frozen for seventy years? Haha, you’re so funny, Steve!”
Bucky was going to vomit. Possibly out of spite.
Alpine, curled in Bucky’s lap (yes, he brought his cat to the compound meeting because he’s emotionally supported by a fluffball and that’s valid), sensed his rising blood pressure and softly headbutted his chin.
“Yeah, I know, she’s still talking,” Bucky muttered under his breath.
Alpine blinked in slow, feline judgment.
Steve, meanwhile, just stood there with that golden retriever expression, smiling like he had no idea he was being visually undressed by a Carter for the second generation in a row.
“I mean, seriously,” Sharon giggled, brushing nonexistent lint off his chest, “Do you train every day?”
“I try to stick to a routine,” Steve replied, like she had asked if he owned a gym membership and not if he wanted to bench-press her soul.
Bucky’s fingers tightened on Alpine’s fur. The cat let out a single annoyed meow.
“Sorry,” Bucky whispered, giving her an apologetic scratch. “Daddy’s going through some… psychological warfare.”
Steve looked over then, smiling. “Hey, Buck! Sharon was just asking about our training schedule. Maybe you could help coordinate something with her?”
Bucky blinked slowly. “Mmm. No, thanks.”
Steve tilted his head. “Why not?”
“You’re literally sitting with your cat—”
Steve turned back to Sharon, utterly lost. “He’s been weird lately.”
“Is it… something I said?” she asked, biting her lip in mock concern.
Bucky made a sound that could only be described as audible scowling.
“Let me guess,” Sharon said with a smirk, “He’s the strong, silent, broody type?”
Steve chuckled. “Yeah, he gets that a lot.”
Bucky whispered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “You get a lot of head trauma too, but we don’t talk about that, do we?”
Later that day, Steve walked into the kitchen to find Bucky glaring at a mug.
Bucky didn’t look up. “Fine.”
Steve peered into the mug. “That tea offending you or something?”
“You’ve been weird since this morning.”
Bucky sipped. “Maybe the room’s weird.”
Steve leaned against the counter. “Is this about the briefing?”
Bucky’s eye twitched. “No. Why would it be?”
Steve frowned. “She said you were upset. Thought maybe I did something.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Wow, a Carter making up narratives about me. Shocking.”
Steve squinted. “Wait, you are mad.”
“No, I’m just cursed with facial expressions.”
“Did she say something wrong?”
“Oh my God, Steve,” Bucky snapped, slamming the mug down. “She flirted with you so hard she might as well have thrown her badge at your face and you just stood there like a giant patriotic tree!”
Steve blinked. “She was flirting?”
“…I thought she was being nice.”
Alpine, now lounging on the counter like the queen she was, let out a tired meow of pure disappointment.
Bucky pointed at the cat. “Even she knows.”
Steve looked between Bucky and Alpine. “Okay, but… why does it bother you?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Because. She’s annoying.”
Steve stared. “You sure?”
Alpine jumped onto Bucky’s shoulder and licked his cheek in what was either affection or a sarcastic “you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”
Steve narrowed his eyes. “Do you—do you not like the idea of me with Sharon?”
Bucky’s eye twitched again. “You’d die. She wears heels. You’d fall down the stairs trying to impress her.”
Steve laughed. “I’m not trying to impress her.”
“Oh my God,” Bucky muttered. “I need to go scream into a wall.”
“You wanna spar later?” Steve offered. “You seem tense.”
Steve scratched his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m here if you wanna talk.”
Steve blinked. “…Did you just quote yourself?”
Bucky stood, Alpine in arms. “I’m taking my daughter and leaving.”
Steve watched him go, utterly baffled. “What just happened?”
Alpine turned in Bucky’s arms and gave Steve one last look over Bucky’s shoulder.
It said, very clearly: You’re an idiot. But he loves you anyway.
And then she blinked slowly, like she pitied them both.
Three days of bitter silence, passive-aggressive grunting, and Steve trying (and failing) to figure out why Bucky was mad while Bucky pretended not to care at all, except he very obviously did because he started going to the gym at 5:00am to avoid Steve’s golden retriever aura.
She had her routine: nap at 11am, destroy the couch at noon, get worshipped by her emotionally stunted human by 3pm - and this cold war between Bucky and Steve was throwing off her entire emotional support schedule.
So she devised a plan. A plan of chaos. A plan of genius.
Step 1: Manipulate Steve Rogers.
She found him in the common room, sitting with his elbows on his knees, looking like someone who had just been told his best friend hated him and also might be allergic to happiness.
“Hi, Alpine,” he said softly.
She meowed. Loudly. With purpose.
Then she jumped in his lap.
Steve blinked. “You don’t usually sit with me.”
She meowed again, then turned around three times and settled in. She looked up at him meaningfully.
“…Are you trying to tell me something?”
Steve squinted. “Did I screw up?”
Alpine blinked. Slowly. Like, glacially slow.
“Okay, okay, alright…message received,” Steve muttered. “But he won’t talk to me. He just keeps glaring and saying ‘I’m fine’ like a damn liar.”
She slapped his knee with her tail.
“Okay, okay! I’ll try again!”
Later that evening, Bucky walked into the kitchen to grab a protein bar and found Alpine sitting in the middle of the room, tail wrapped around her dainty paws, looking like a cult leader.
“Hey, baby,” he said, scratching her head. “What are you doin’ in here all dramatic?”
She stood up. Meowed. Then ran off.
He followed. Because obviously.
She led him down the hallway, into the training room, where the lights were already on and—
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bucky muttered.
Steve was already standing there, arms crossed, like he’d just been lured in by a very bossy cat.
They both looked down at Alpine, who promptly sat in the exact middle of the room and meowed once, loudly, like a judge banging a gavel.
“I think she wants us to talk,” Steve said awkwardly.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Bucky muttered.
Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Look. I know I’m bad at reading people. You probably wanted me to pick up on something you weren’t saying and I just… didn’t.”
Bucky crossed his arms. “You think?”
Alpine let out a long, suffering meow like “Tell him you love him, you emotionally constipated winter muffin.”
Steve stepped closer. “I just..- if I made you feel replaced or overlooked, I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t realize Sharon was coming on that strong. I wasn’t trying to flirt. You know that, right?”
Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. I know. You’re just stupid.”
“No, I mean..- you’re stupid in a way that makes it real hard for people to tell you how they feel without needing a damn PowerPoint.”
Steve laughed under his breath. “You could’ve just said you didn’t like her.”
“I didn’t not like her,” Bucky snapped. “I didn’t like her near you. There’s a difference.”
“Oh,” Bucky mocked. “Wow, it finally clicked.”
“You jealous?” Steve asked, smiling.
Bucky rolled his eyes so hard he could see the previous day. “Not of her. Just… of the idea of someone else knowing you better than I do.”
Steve cleared his throat. “I don’t think anyone knows me better than you. Not even me sometimes.”
Bucky’s lip twitched. “You saying I’m your emotional translator?”
Steve stepped forward again. “So we good?”
Bucky sighed. “Yeah. Just don’t make me sit through another Carter monologue about your arms.”
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, until Alpine meowed again, like “Are you gonna kiss or just stand there like idiots?”
Steve reached over and ruffled Bucky’s hair. “I missed you, grumpy.”
Bucky smacked his hand away. “Touch me again and I’ll replace your shampoo with mayonnaise.”
They both looked down at Alpine, who stretched out like a satisfied villain and purred loudly.
“Smartest one in the room,” Steve muttered.
“Don’t let her hear that, she’ll start charging rent.”
Alpine yawned, victorious.
Love was restored. The Cold War was over.
She simply returned to her throne (a.k.a. the back of the couch) and plotted her next meddling.
After all, Tony and Bruce were clearly in denial too.
2087
amandla
pixelskylines
ellievsbear
stormborns
titsay
