Just like TLOU there is an outbreak and cordyceps have taken over leaving the world in dystopia.
This is essentially a Bucky Barnes fanfiction and these are a few of my ideas:
HYDRA is in control of everything (food, supplies, safe shelter). When the outbreak could no longer be controlled the US Government fell and it became a free for all. This became the perfect opportunity for anyone still aligned with HYDRA to step up and take control. In this AU! Bucky is still the Winter Soldier. He was used as their watch dog and keeping people in line. However, at one point he went rogue like in CATWS and is going after HYDRA factions and bringing aid to civilians.
There two sanctuary cities New York run by Bucky and the New AvengerZ and DC which is controlled by Sam and the government controlled Avengers. Bucky’s team believes in free democracy. People should have the right to make their own choices without government interference, especially when it comes to medical aid and finding safe passage. Sam and his team believe in closed boarders. Supplies, shelter and food need to be spared accordingly and the government needs to keep control on distribution. This has turned into a civil war amongst the two factions.
3. This is revised version of option 1. Bucky is the only remaining Avenger. He used to work with FEDRA to give shelter and aid to those who needed but he quickly learned how corrupt they were. So now he has gone rogue. He has formed his own compound and spends most of his time trying to take down FEDRA and bringing aid to areas that the government had neglected.
I'm open to ideas. Please leave your suggestions in the comments below 🙏
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 3,855
Warnings: language, fluff, angst, confrontation, drinking, cheesy romance, kissing, implied sexytimes, somewhat nsfw but not really, a potentially wasted beautiful meal
A/N: This is my last submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. I did it! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
This was the sixth rewrite! LOL….The End! :)
Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
“Something smells amazing in here!”
Bucky gave you a small smile, nodding at the kitchen. “I was making dinner. I figured since you haven’t eaten either, and I made more than enough, we could have dinner together.”
This wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.
There were loads of times when Bucky would ask you to come over and help him choose a new menu item to propose at the restaurant.
Sometimes he’d just hold a spoon up to your lips and casually ask if the food was to your taste or not. Other times, he’d sit you down for a three-course meal and ask you how you felt about both the food and its presentation.
Normally, you’d be so freaking excited to see something like this at Bucky’s place.
It obviously meant free food for you this time, too, but you just couldn’t feel good about it.
This time, he was probably creating a menu for when he finally cooks for the mystery woman Nat told you about, the one he’d spent the whole night texting, or whatever.
Whatever.
“Have a seat,” he instructed, quietly shutting the door behind him and making his way to the kitchen. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Hungry? Not really.
“Sure,” you fibbed, sitting down at the candlelit table. Everything looked so nice, you almost didn’t want to use any of it. There was even a big fresh salad and some garlic bread. “So, why’d you have a rough day?”
Bucky walked over with a pan of the most delicious-looking lasagna you’d ever laid eyes on in your life. There was way more than one kind of cheese in it, and it was nearly bubbling over the pan.
Your traitorous stomach growled.
“I just…it was just a shitty day.” He pulled the oven mitts off his hands and pointed at the lasagna, pride apparent on his face. “This is one of my grandma’s best recipes, so I hope you like it.”
You now faced an ultimate internal struggle: eat the pity food and have a happy belly, or leave now with some self-respect and starve to death (you were pretty sure you didn’t have any food in your fridge).
Bucky really meant business with his mystery woman if he was digging out recipes like this.
You stared at him blankly as he sat down across from you, unfolding his fancy napkin to place on his lap.
Was he already making plans for a future with her?
He’d probably move out of Brooklyn, and get a house with her in the suburbs. Maybe you’d be able to visit him. You’d probably not be welcomed to the house, but maybe you could meet someplace for coffee. Definitely not around the holidays, though, because Bucky would probably have a family with her, and want to spend time with them instead.
No more gift exchanges on birthdays, either, even though the two of you had a long-standing tradition of going to a new show on Broadway to celebrate.
No more Saturday mornings watching ‘I Love Lucy,’ and no more late night couch cuddles under oversized blankets when it was cold outside.
No more impromptu trips to museums and playing hooky in the park.
No more Bucky.
Oh well.
Your friendship had a good run. Nothing that great could ever be meant to last. Had you been paying attention, you would have seen the writing on the wall months ago.
He eyed you carefully from across the table. “Everything okay with you?”
You blinked a few times, forcing a smile to your face even though he’d just caught you staring. “Yep. Do you want to talk about your shitty day?”
Bucky appeared to mull it over. “Not yet.”
“All right.”
An ever-so-slightly awkward silence settled in the room, and you watched with mild interest as he opted to fill his salad bowl first.
Normally, the two of you didn’t need to fill the silence with any chatter. It was always comfortable, and conversations were never forced.
There was a first time for everything, you figured.
Besides, he didn’t need to hear what your brain wanted you to say. You weren’t gonna bring them up…not Natasha, not Rosie, not even the mystery girl.
You weren’t.
You weren’t, you weren’t, you weren’t.
…You so were.
Step one: ask about the perfect match.
“Hey, guess who I saw right before I got home?”
Shit. Well, now it was out there in the universe.
Bucky looked intrigued. “Who?”
“Natasha, can you believe it?” You reached for the glass of water in front of you and took a big gulp. “I sure couldn’t!”
As soon as her name came out of your mouth, Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He focused on getting his own piece of lasagna from the tray.
“Oh?”
“Yep. It was so early, and I got really confused, like maybe I had the day wrong or something, because your dates never end that early.”
“Yeah, what can I say? It happens.” He shrugged a shoulder then stood to put a piece of lasagna on your plate, too. “There’s some garlic bread if you want any.”
“Got it. So anyways, Natasha told me that your date only lasted thirty minutes?”
“Yep.” Bucky set the spatula down and moved quickly back in the kitchen, reaching for the fridge door. “Want a beer?”
“Beer? With lasagna? That’s not like you.” You quirked an eyebrow at him. “No thanks.”
“Well I’m having one,” he muttered, opening a bottle and chugging it on his way back to the table. He flopped back in his seat, setting the bottle on the table.
The way Bucky was still shifting in his seat told you there was more to the story, so you decided to dig a little deeper.
“You’ve had headaches last longer than that date, Buck. What happened?”
“This is really good,” he said, gesturing to the food with his fork. “You should try it.”
Ah, the classic avoidance method.
“I promise I won’t make fun of you if you just tell me.”
You jumped a little as his fork hit his plate with a loud clatter and his eyes flickered up to yours. He was irritated now, and while you couldn’t blame him, you needed answers.
Maybe you were a masochist or something, but you wanted to hear everything right from the source.
He gave you a questioning look. “Why does what happened matter? It’s over and done.”
Really?
“For months and months, you basically harassed me for her number, Bucky, you can’t act like you didn’t! She was your dream girl, the one you’d been lusting over, and suddenly you blow off your date like she’s nobody?” You leaned back in your seat, shaking your head a little. “I don’t get it.”
Bucky shrugged again, looking back down at his plate. “She just wasn’t who I thought she was. We didn’t click.”
Step two: ask about his wager date.
You told Wanda that your feelings for him wouldn’t change if he really did sleep with Rosie, and you definitely meant it, but you still wanted to know.
“What about Rosie?”
“Can we please just eat?” He picked his fork up again, digging into the lasagna and avoiding eye contact.
“Fine.” You picked up your fork, too, and grabbed a big bite of lasagna. The second you tasted the food, you wanted to keel over and die, that’s how amazing it was, and you knew it showed on your face.
You didn’t even care, and decided then and there that lasagna was better than friendship.
Italian food would never hurt you the way people could.
Bucky couldn’t resist looking back up at you for your reaction, so you stared right back at him.
“Well?”
You sighed, setting your fork down again. “It’s amazing as always, Bucky.”
“And you aren’t just saying that?”
“I would never lie about food,” you promised. “Especially Grandma’s recipe.”
“Good.” He gave a satisfied nod.
The peace and quiet of enjoying your dinner together lasted for an entire minute. It wasn’t as awkward this time, but you still felt some discomfort. In the end, your sheer nosiness won out.
“Who were you texting the whole time? Who’s the mystery girl? It’s not like you to keep things like that from me.” You feigned hurt feelings, making a face at him. “Was it Rosie?”
Bucky scoffed, his eyes focusing on the flickering candle to his right. “No.”
“Someone new? Maybe from work?”
“No.”
You sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll find out eventually, you know. Steve and Sam can barely keep their mouths shut, and they both absolutely adore me. It wouldn’t be that difficult to-“
“I wasn’t texting anyone,” he said quickly, cutting off your thinly-veiled threat. “Well, not really. I never found the courage to press send on anything I typed. I was checking to see if I’d gotten any texts, too. Natasha didn’t like that very much, and she had every right to be pissed. I was rude.”
So there was someone after all.
Your stomach did that familiar knotting thing it does when you get upset, the thing that wasn’t helpful at all when eating delicious food.
“Did you tell Rosie about your mystery woman? Does she know about Rosie?”
“Rosie and I didn’t even make it through salads and breadsticks, Y/N,” he admitted, his blue eyes locking on yours.
Confusion filled your brain.
Did he really just say that?
He needed to repeat it, just so you know you weren’t hallucinating.
“But, y-you mean…what? But, you said I won, you said…I thought you said…you didn’t sleep with her?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” he confirmed. “I hailed a cab and paid for her to get home safely, and that was the end of it. That’s why I said you won so early…I forfeited.”
You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that he didn’t take either one of your coworkers to bed, but that meant…it meant that there was someone he actually cared about. To you, that would be a thousand times worse.
That meant his heart already belonged to someone.
Step three: uncover the identity of the mystery woman who was stealing your best friend.
“Who is she, then?”
Bucky ran a hand over his face, his eyes showing the weariness from the rough day he’d mentioned. “Honestly, Y/N, I would have thought it was obvious by now. I guess I’m not as good at this as I thought.”
You stared at him, waiting for a better explanation than that.
“I really, really don’t want to fuck this up,” he continued, his voice softer. “I’m afraid I’m reading into things too much, and I’m about to ruin everything.”
“You, afraid?” You scoffed at the idea. “I’ve never witnessed it.”
“I’m completely terrified.”
You started chewing your lip nervously, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. “She must be special.”
“She is,” he agreed, a small smile forming on his mouth. “This person…she lights up every room she’s in, putting sunlight to shame. She’s beautiful and kind, with a big brain and an even bigger heart. And I think she loves me too, based on recent events and conversation, though I think she’s just as afraid as I am.”
His actual perfect match loved him back? No wonder he turned Natasha down.
Something along the lines of mild panic filled your entire body, and you felt like the walls were closing in on you.
You had to get out of there.
“Well thanks, Bucky, but I have to go, I’m so sorry. Thank you for the lovely meal, and –” You stood, pushing your chair back to move as quickly as possible to the front door.
“Y/N, wait!”
The sound of another chair scraping against the hardwood floor told you Bucky was following you. You grasped at the door knob, and even managed to get the door open a few inches before it shut in your face.
Bucky stood directly behind you, one arm over your head while he rested his hand on the door. “Why are you trying to escape?”
“I have to go, Bucky, let me out!” You pulled on the door again, but he maintained his weight against it.
By now, you knew your struggle was in vain. Your body deflated against the door as you gave up.
You had to tell him before this broke your heart any further.
Bucky gently spun you around toward him, and you watched his face fall when he realized there were tears pooling in your eyes. “Talk to me,” he pleaded.
Oh, he was about to get an earful.
“I can’t…I can’t listen to you drone on and on about your new woman over dinner. It’s totally my fault, I know I asked, but I take it back. I can’t watch your eyes light up over the thought of someone else, I just…I can’t freaking do it.”
The smell of his cologne wafted to your nose as he leaned over you, his lips near your ear. “Ask me who she is again, Y/N.”
Bucky pulled back, but the damage was done. Your heart was racing so fast, its energy could probably power Stark Tower for a week.
“No,” you refused, eyes wide. “I don’t wanna hear her name.”
“Just ask.”
“No!” This time, your temper flared. He should respect your change of mind if he really cared about you, and let you leave with what little dignity you had left.
Bucky planted both feet firmly in front of him, crossing his arms. “Fine. Let me do the talking, then. Let’s talk about how I don’t want to hear you go on about how perfect Natasha and I are for each other, ever again.”
“Fine!”
“Fine. Not done yet! I don’t want to hear Rosie’s name ever again. I don’t want to hear any more about your singles apps, or your bad dates with the Alex McDouchenozzles of the world, and I definitely never want to hear the name Peter Quill from your mouth ever again!”
This conversation wasn’t quite taking the turn you were expecting. The sudden shift of attention to you and your suitors raised a bunch of new warning flags in your brain.
You knew Bucky better than anyone, and everything about him right now was screaming something you had previously thought to be impossible.
Anything you said now could either make or break your changing relationship.
Before you could open your mouth to ask again, he motioned for you to go back to the table. “Dinner now, talk later.”
What?
WHAT!?
“No,” you said, straightening to your full height, your hands on your hips. “Talk now, dinner later! You have to explain yourself!”
He stood there, silently waiting for you to go on, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Anyone who didn’t know Bucky as well as you would never have caught that gleam.
Time to test your new theory, for your sanity and for his.
Start with a joke.
“What about Starlord? Do you wanna hear about him?” You couldn’t stop the small smile from appearing on your face.
Bucky lifted his chin indignantly, and you were pretty sure he flexed his arms a little. “Especially not Starlord.”
Get him to talk.
“What do you want to hear about then?” you breathed out, eyes searching his. You knew what you wanted him to say, but would he go for it? Or were you completely misreading him right now in a bout of wishful thinking?
You did love to daydream, after all.
Oh, and that pain in your stomach? That stupid, sharp ‘am I gonna die soon’ feeling that had been churning all night?
Yeah, it shifted to more of a ‘this moment is potentially filled with everything you hoped for and you still might die soon’ chest pain. The anticipation was killing you, and you watched him carefully, trying to gauge whether you were right or not.
The weariness that had been in his eyes moments ago was completely gone, replaced by a new look: pure, unmistakable adoration.
“I want to hear about your day,” Bucky answered, his arms dropping to his sides. “I want to hear about your lab sessions, and what you had for lunch. I want to hear about your favorite things that happened to you this week. I want to hear you laugh when Lucy does something crazy, and groan when Ricky catches her in the act. I want to hear your scratchy voice in the morning, and your loud yawns at night.”
He was so utterly charming.
Reciprocate.
After all, two could play at this game.
“I want to hear about your promotion,” you told him, your smile widening.
The look in his eyes gave you the courage to keep talking.
“I want to hear the pride in your voice when you talk about your creations. I want to hear about how much you hate the laundry machines downstairs, and how much you love those blueberry scones from the bakery two blocks over. I want to hear the laughter in your voice when you’re agitating me on purpose.”
You stepped right up in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. “I want to be the last person you talk to before you go to sleep.”
“I want that, too,” Bucky murmured, reaching out for your hands and holding onto them gently. “It took me having this stupid wager to realize it, but…”
His forehead rested on yours, and you felt like your breathing might never return to normal.
“The second I saw you in your dress, getting ready for a date with that douchebag…” Bucky leaned away to look at you, shaking his head. “I couldn’t stand it.”
“He was…different.”
“He wasn’t right for you.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m always right,” he agreed, dropping your hands unceremoniously. “Anyways, glad we settled that. Let’s finish eating, shall we?”
You blinked incredulously. “That’s…settled? We have settled nothing, sir.”
He laughed, his bright smile a welcome sight. “No, I guess you’re right this time.”
“Of course I’m right! I’ve been so stressed about ever-“
Bucky cut you off by cupping your chin and gently pressing his lips to yours for the first time.
You immediately took action, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body even closer. There was no way you were going to let him get away with a chaste little kiss like that.
You lips parted slightly, and he took advantage, his tongue finding yours as he deepened the kiss. The feeling shot all the way down to your toes, curling them instantly. You were vaguely aware of his other hand moving down your figure, his fingers pressing into your hip almost possessively.
It was almost too much, but you felt like if you pulled away now, he’d disappear and this would all be a really fucking awesome dream or something.
It was better than a dream.
Bucky ended up breaking the kiss after a moment, resting his forehead on yours again. “We could have been kissing like that this whole time,” he pointed out, a small smile playing on his lips.
You pulled back to give him a look. “Please. With your line of trampezoids here all hours of the night, every week night and weekend? I don’t think so.”
“I wouldn’t have been seeing them if we would have just realized the obvious.”
“Hindsight,” you said, clucking your tongue at him. “It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
“We can always make up for lost time,” Bucky suggested, his eyes gleaming wickedly.
“What about the lasagna? You went through all this trouble, and neither of us really ate that much…”
“It’ll still be there when we’re done.” He shrugged, glancing between his bedroom door and you. “I’ve got a microwave.”
“Oh no, no no no. No way, Bucky. I don’t know the last time you changed your sheets,” you protested, making a face at him.
“What? I clean my sheets!” he retorted, making a face at you.
The mere thought completely disgusted you. “I remember bombshell Becky, and all the others before her. We go to my apartment if this is happening.”
“Well, it’s not not happening, so, let’s get a move on.” Bucky grabbed your shoulders and tried to shove you out the door.
“This also means you have to buy a new bed,” you added jokingly, hauling ass across the hall and into your own apartment with Bucky in tow.
It was uncanny, how quick the two of you ended up in your room, with him crawling over you as you landed on your mattress.
“Natasha insinuated that it’s wrong to put out on the first date,” you informed him cheekily.
“This doesn’t feel like our first date, though,” he reasoned, pulling your arms over your head and holding them in place with a predatory look in his eyes. “It feels like we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”
The feel of his weight on you, the smell of him, even the touch of his calloused fingers was driving you insane. You couldn’t believe how many nights you’d spent next to him without experiencing this.
And god, that look in his eyes gave you shivers.
You stared up at him, eyes tracing his face so that you’d never forget this moment. “Yeah, I would agree with that.”
“Let’s make another wager,” he suggested, nuzzling your neck before planting hot, open-mouth kisses there.
“What kind?” you breathed out, trying to resist the urge to order him to take off his pants and get to it already. You knew this wasn’t something you wanted to rush.
No, you were going to savor every second of his hands, his hard muscles, and that extraordinary mouth of his having their way with you.
“I wager that I can make you forget all about that lasagna next door.”
You pretended to think about it. “I don’t know, that lasagna was really good. I didn’t even get to try the garlic bread, I bet it’s delicious.”
Bucky lifted his head to grin wickedly at you. “I was just about to say the same thing about you.”
You made a face. “So you’re saying I’m on the menu, too? That’s such a corny chef joke!”
“I think you mean corny head chef joke. I’m allowed to make those now. You’re tonight’s special,” he quipped. “And tomorrow, and the next day, and…”
“I love you,” you told him, just because you could. You freed one arm from his grasp to reach a hand out and stroke his stubble-covered jawline. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” He grinned at you. “Say it again.”
You rolled your eyes and laughed. “I love you.”
Bucky’s blue eyes sparkled. “I could never get tired of hearing you say that.”
“Good, because I probably won’t ever get tired of saying it.”
He cleared his throat. “So, um, now that we’ve established an ‘us’, you’re gonna delete your dating apps, right?”
Well, duh.
Who the hell needed dating apps when Bucky Barnes was in love with you?
“Stop talking,” you muttered, leaning up to kiss him again. “Dinner’s getting cold.”
Summary: AU. Reader left behind a hometown full of misery to make a new home in Brooklyn. A death in the family forces her to briefly return to the place that has haunted her dreams and memories for three years. Will she finally be able to move on, or will a figure from the past change everything?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,837
Warnings: angst, language, more angst, mention of alcoholism, mention of death, mention of funeral, mentions of neglect, mentions of estranged family members, heartache, sadness, mentions of sad childhood
A/N: This is the first part of my submission for the talented and wonderful @tatortot2701 ‘s AU writing challenge. (Tay, please disregard until it’s completed!) Y'all wanted angst, well…I took a fluffy prompt and darkened it. I tried not to but this story wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m not sure how many parts it will have.
My prompt was 28 .“____ is not a real word.” “Yes it is!”
Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6
You knew it could only be bad news when your phone rang at three in the morning.
That call was the whole reason you were standing back in your hometown’s local airport, watching the luggage carousel loop around over and over.
Logically, there were a limited number of reasons as to why someone would call at three in the morning. Maybe it was the wrong number, or a butt dial. Maybe someone was drunk, or someone was going into labor. Since your only two friends in the entire world didn’t fit any of those categories, you knew that it was a stranger calling.
Bad news was a relative term, too.
Was it really all that bad? To some the news you received would be devastating. To you, it had been a long time coming, and you were sort of relieved to have the weight of it off your shoulders.
That didn’t stop you from feeling guilty about it, though.
“Hey, friend.”
You looked over at your best friend and roommate as she gave you a gentle smile. Darcy Lewis might be one sarcastic bitch for most people, but with you she always showed kindness without pity.
The difference between your life and Darcy’s was staggering. She grew up in Boston, the daughter of a business tycoon and socialite, set to inherit millions of dollars when they passed away. They kept up her monthly allowance into adulthood, and she’s never wanted for a thing in her life, except maybe friendship.
“Hi, Darce. I’m sorry, I guess I spaced out again.”
Darcy reached a hand out to rub your back gently for a second. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be the tough one today. Let me.”
The running joke between the two of you was there was no way you were some rural kid, since you were as tough as any native New Yorker. Your move to a small two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn had changed your life, your personality, and your outlook tremendously, and meeting Darcy had been a part of that, too.
She could have afforded the Upper East Side, or Downtown Manhattan. The only reason she had even bothered to move to a small apartment in Brooklyn is because she wanted the hipster experience to help her art and photography.
Her ad for a roommate had even said that exact phrase, and you thought it was a joke until you met her. She opened the door wearing dramatic eye makeup and covered in paint, with a small camera in her hand. Darcy’s impromptu pre-screen interview was full of questions like, ‘do you dream in color or black and white?’ and ‘if you had to be a type of architecture what would it be?’ Her last question was ‘Red Sox or Yankees?’
You told her that you didn’t always remember your dreams, but you were pretty sure it was both, and that you didn’t care what kind of architecture you were, as long as you were in New York.
Oh, and you couldn’t give a rat’s ass about baseball.
Facts and reality were your game. You were an analyst by day, and an over-analyzer by night, and you were damn good at both.
The two of you balanced each other well. She made you remember to enjoy a more colorful life, and you reminded her to bring her feet back down to earth.
Three years later, the two of you were still best friends and still living in that small apartment. She never threw her circumstances in your face, and you never held it against her. On the rare occasion, she would bail you out of your financial woes, but you always paid her back.
Today, you were so very grateful for her. You offered her a smile. “I’m fine, I promise. Just…tired.”
“There’s a taxi outside. I told him to stay put for us for an extra twenty bucks.”
The second you saw your bag come around the bend on the carousel, you hauled it to the floor and grabbed the handle. “Good, let’s just get this over with.”
Early spring always felt the same here.
You were standing on the sidewalk, just outside of the hotel that Darcy had booked for the two of you. It was halfway between your old neighborhood and the airport, declared by her to be a neutral zone to clear your head if you needed to.
Not that you would. This was a clear, cut-and-dry kind of visit. It shouldn’t take long.
Brooklyn had been unseasonably warm, but this place? It was as if the grey winter just wasn’t ready to let go. A crisp chill remained in the air, allowing you to see your breath every time you sighed. Small piles of snow still littered the grass, and you couldn’t help but think to yourself that out here, everything seemed frozen in time.
That was one of the reasons why you left in the first place.
Your hometown was, for lack of a better word, stuck. It was stuck in a time that didn’t exist anymore, stuck in an era where the generation above yours refused to change in even the smallest ways, even if humanity begged for them to grow and prosper. You avoided them, you resented them, and most of all you pitied them.
It also didn’t help that bad memories haunted you wherever you walked. Thinking about your childhood usually only brought you down.
Your mother’s unexpected death when you were just two years old left your life in a tailspin, though you were much too young to know it then. Thankfully, you were an only child, because your father’s neglect and subsequent alcohol abuse made you grow up faster than you wanted to.
It wasn’t until you were sixteen years old that everything turned around for you personally. Life at home didn’t change, but you were able to be there less, thanks to…
No. Nope. Not thinking about him right now.
Your head turned to the left at the sound of Darcy’s boots clicking on the cement path. She gave you a bright smile, and you gave her a small one in return, trying to reassure her that you were still okay.
“So, what’s up first? Should we get this morbid show on the road?”
“First I have to accompany his ashes to the plot next to my mother,” you answered, turning on your heel to walk beside her to the rental car that was dropped off a little bit ago. “I don’t really want to, but I…I can’t imagine…”
The thought of the groundskeeper being the only person at a makeshift funeral kind of made you sad.
“It’s okay. I’ll be there, too.” She unlocked the car and threw the keys to you. “You don’t mind, right? You’re more familiar with the place.”
“I don’t mind,” you assured her, sliding into the driver’s seat.
Driving through town was easy, mostly because there was never any traffic here. You made your way on some winding roads, until the outskirts of your town were finally reached. The same old welcome sign stood at the edge of town, desperately needing some upkeep.
“It’s, um…cute,” Darcy said, staring out the window. “Like in a creepy Deliverance kinda way, but still.”
You laughed for the first time since arriving. “It’s not that bad, but…yeah.”
Familiar locations passed by in your periphery. There was the old post office, and the only market for about ten miles. Houses that used to be familiar to you were now mostly occupied by strangers; some were painted a different color and nearly unrecognizable.
The one place that nearly broke you when you passed was your old high school. You’d tried to think of ten different routes to get around it, to avoid even seeing it, but road construction crews made that impossible.
Darcy picked up on your discomfort, nodding toward the building as you went by. “Did you go there?”
You nodded grimly. “Graduated at the top of my class.”
“Holy shit, no wonder that analytics firm wanted you to work there so much!”
School was absolute garbage on a regular basis, but your high school in particular had little to nothing to offer a student who wanted to advance in a science field. When you specifically requested more computer classes, more anything that would be helpful for you when you graduated, the administrators tossed you into a Home Ec class like it was nothing. You were heartbroken…until…
You shook your head, trying to clear thoughts from your brain that you weren’t ready to process.
The brakes squeaked a little as you parked in front of the funeral home. When you didn’t make a move to shut the engine off or get out of the car, Darcy reached over and turned the ignition for you.
She didn’t even mind, sitting there silently with you while you had a death-grip on the steering wheel, trying to find the courage to face your father for the first time for years.
Or, rather, trying to find the courage to face what was left of him.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she murmured, laying her head back against the headrest.
You didn’t even blink.
Hours later, the last of the dirt was tossed unceremoniously over the small vault box you’d chosen for your father’s urn to be laid to rest in. When they thought you weren’t paying attention, you heard the one groundskeeper joke, “Which side goes up?” You couldn’t even muster enough anger to reprimand him, though. He was the product of his less-than-stellar upbringing in this hellhole.
Darcy was having a hell of a time in her fashionable boots, so that kind of lightened the mood. She didn’t know that lingering snow combined with warmer temperatures meant ice melt, and soggy, muddy ground.
“Careful,” you told her, turning away in your much more sensible shoes. “It’s slippy.”
“Slippy is not a real word,” she called out behind you.
“Yes it is! It’s real here. Say it to literally anyone and they will understand.” You rolled your eyes to the sky as you made it back to the car ten times faster than her. “We won’t be here long enough for you to get used to the local vocabulary, though, unless you walk this slowly everywhere we go.”
“Thank goodness,” she muttered to herself as she finally reaching the car. “I never saw this much mud in Boston!”
“Do you realize how pretentious you sound right now?” You eyed her carefully before getting into the car. “You never saw much mud because you never went outside unless it was to your deck or patio or whatever.”
“Pretentious? Maybe. Yet you love me anyway,” she retorted, slipping into the car and shutting the door with a sigh of relief.
You glanced over at her. “You’re right. I really do. Thank you for being here. Thank you for helping me through this.”
Darcy shrugged. “I love you, too. Now, I hope you remember some decent places to eat because I’m freaking starving.”
You knew what this was.
She was trying her best to distract you from falling into a pit of despair, and once again you found yourself counting your lucky stars that you had this wonderful, beautiful, kind-hearted sarcastic bitch as your best friend.
The only restaurant you recognized (since so many had closed when the markets crashed years ago) was a little bar and grill down on Main Street. It used to be called Jet’s, but it must have changed ownership, because the name The All-American was emblazoned in neon lights above the door.
By now, the dinner crowd had already arrived, and that included the regulars and the drinkers in town (though to be fair, most regulars were the drinkers).
You didn’t care for crowds, but for Darcy’s sake you’d put up with it. Besides, you’d just come from burying your estranged father. Who gave a shit if the town drunks remembered you?
Darcy led the way this time, fully intent on getting some kind of salad and a glass of wine ‘if this place even has such things.’
You followed feebly, fully intent on getting food and biding your time until you could go to sleep, wake up, and leave this god-forsaken town.
Once you were seated in front of your burger and fries, and Darcy had her house salad with a side of ranch dressing (which she doused the salad with, thereby negating its health benefits), she started in on the questioning.
What did you do for fun here?
Who was your best friend when you were younger?
Did you ever leave the town for field trips?
No seriously, there’s nothing fun here. What did you do to pass the time? Study? No wonder you’re so smart.
Thankfully, she avoided your family history. She knew a lot of it already, thanks to some tequila-induced confessions back in Brooklyn.
You reached for a french fry in silence, trying to prevent any further questioning for the moment. You didn’t mind talking about it, but you’d prefer questions in small doses.
It wasn’t all that special of a sob story, anyway.
Your mom and dad were high school sweethearts. No one knew she was sick. When she died, he died with her in every way but physically.
He resented seeing you, because you look so much like her. It wasn’t fair, in his eyes, that she was gone but you remained to remind him of what he had lost. He hated that you hated this town. He thought you were an ungrateful, intellectual snob. He didn’t want to see you, didn’t want to remember his pain, so he drank his days away.
He never went to your recitals…never saw you score a goal during your very first soccer game…never chastised any boys for flirting with you…never watched you get your diploma…all because he just didn’t participate in your life.
You didn’t lash out, though. You didn’t become a statistic, didn’t join the crowd doing drugs and sleeping around, even when the offers were tempting. All you’d have to do is picture him, a stumbling mess, shaking his head at you.
The only goal you had in mind was to get out and better yourself, make your life worth living, and you managed to do that somehow.
There was only one person who could have possibly kept you here. If he had asked you to stay, you would have given up everything to spend your life with him. Instead, he broke your heart…he rejected you, he gave up on you, he told you he didn’t love you anymore.
You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since.
There were nights where you missed him, and you thought maybe you still weren’t over him. You’d lie awake at night letting the what-ifs drown out any rational thoughts. Sometimes you would dream about a life with him by your side, only to wake up far away and completely alone.
Man, there were some nights where your dreams felt so real, like if you reached out you could feel him again. The harsh reality was, you never had any intention on staying here. You didn’t want to, even if he were to come to you right this minute and ask.
That was completely farfetched, though. You knew he never would, not after that night.
Being home only reinforced the idea that you leaving was the best thing for you.
When Darcy finally stopped her interrogation to take a bathroom break, you allowed yourself the time to glance around the room. Most of the patrons were total strangers, including lots of gas well workers that drifted from all over the country to make twice as much cash as they were used to seeing. It was a shame they didn’t hire locally instead, maybe that would kick-start the town’s economy.
You saw a couple of guys who were a few grades below you in school watching a baseball game on the giant television in the corner. It had only been three years, but to see them look almost the same as they did in school was a little unnerving.
For you, High School felt like a lifetime ago, after all.
Some women who were dressed in far too little for this chilly weather were playing pool, while some of the older men stared at them as if it wasn’t a creeper move.
Your eyes flitted from face to face. You had this strange feeling that you were being watched, but no one was meeting your gaze yet. One quick glance to the restrooms told you it wasn’t Darcy making her way back to the table.
That familiar anxious feeling started up again as you kept searching for the source of your discomfort. It took a minute or so, but you finally found it…found him.
Your spine stiffened at the sight, and anger started bubbling up inside you.
You should have known better.
Bucky Barnes was staring at you from across the bar…and he didn’t look happy.
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 4,608 (went really overboard)
Warnings: language, lots of bad language, fluff, sarcasm, drinking, implied drunkenness, angst, regret, hangover, confrontation, stupid feelings are stupid yeah?
A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
Second to last part! Tags are closed. I loved all your messages so much!
Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
The next morning, you awoke with a ridiculous pounding headache. Your mouth tasted funny and dry, and you knew you were still in your outfit from the night before. That also meant that last night’s makeup was probably smeared across your face and pillow.
Thank goodness it was Saturday. At least that would give you time to get over the hangover from hell. You groaned at the memory of what caused you to get so inebriated in the first place.
You win.
After seeing Bucky’s text, you didn’t reply to him. Instead, you conned Peter into taking you for some drinks.
His bar of choice? Red Room, another exclusive spot downtown.
Expensive alcohol (paid for by Peter) flowed for the rest of the night, as did Peter’s mundane chatter. The only reprieve you had was when you passed out in the taxi home.
You sat up gingerly, squinting at the clock on your bedside table as you wiped some drool off the corner of your mouth. Your phone was halfway across the room on the floor, as if you’d thrown it in a fit of rage.
Wait a minute…
Yeah, you definitely had thrown it in a fit of rage from the looks of it. Or, a fit of some emotion…the details were sort of cloudy at the moment.
You stepped out of bed, moving slowly over to the discarded device, but as soon as you picked it up (and it wasn’t broken, thank you OtterBox!) you saw the battery must have died.
The charger was back over near your bed, so you plugged it in and waited for the screen to light up.
When it finally came back to life, you cringed again. The number of missed calls and unread texts was higher than you’d ever seen in your life. Fourteen missed calls, all from last night. You clicked those first.
Three calls were from Peter (that made you chuckle, since you probably wandered away from him for some peace and quiet).
Eight were from Wanda. Why the hell had Wanda tried to call you that many times?
One missed call from…Natasha?
Oh god!
Your eyes widened as you remembered something else from last night. Natasha had been there with a couple of her friends.
You’d drunkenly gone up to her and offered her Bucky’s number in person, telling her nearly every sinful thing he’d ever said about her and how much he wanted to date her. Why had she called though? Maybe to make sure you had her number?
You smacked your forehead at the hazy memory, wincing as it added on to your hangover headache pain.
What the hell was the matter with you?
With another low groan, you looked at the last two missed calls of the night.
Both were from Bucky.
Oh geez. He probably called to confirm that he slept with Rosie, or to thank you for giving Natasha his number. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck…
You moved on to the dozens of unread text messages.
Most of them were from Peter, asking where you were, asking if you were ready to go home. The last couple from him were interesting.
Bucky texted me to say if I didn’t get you home soon he was gonna kick my ass.
Can you please meet me near the door so we can head out? I have a cab waiting.
There were texts from Natasha that you found just a little disturbing.
Thank you again! Sorry I missed your call. I tried to call back but no answer!
I’m going to ask him out tomorrow! Can’t wait! - Nat
Wanda seemed to have gotten the bulk of the text messages, replying to what started as you complaining about your date, to you sending her strings of gibberish with a lot of sad emojis.
I can’t understand what you’re writing, Y/N. I think you should get home.
Should I text Bucky to come get you?
Do you need me and Vis to come pick you up?
Finally, the last few were from the man himself.
Y/N, please get in the cab with Peter.
You’re not making any sense.
I’m getting worried. Just come home!
Ugh, you really mucked things up this time, didn’t you? A quick scan of your messages told you by the time you started texting Bucky, you were too far gone to type properly. At least you didn’t confess anything, like how you’d kept Nat from him for that long.
How humiliating…
You never ever drank this much, knowing that it always led you to make poor decisions.
At least Peter Quill wasn’t in your bed. That was a plus-one for your night, for sure. Thankfully, you were always good about going to bed alone. Stranger danger (or in this case nearly-a-stranger danger) was a real thing, and you weren’t having it.
With another groan, you found Wanda’s name in your contact list and pressed call, putting her on speaker.
After a few rings, she finally picked up. “Y/N? You’re alive then?”
“I’m sorry,” you said softly, eyes filling with tears involuntarily. “I’m so sorry, Wan. I made a fool of myself last night.”
“You were just hurting, friend. It’s fine. You didn’t really like Peter anyway, from what you were saying when you could still type properly.”
“I know, but it’s not even just that. I’ll probably have to apologize to him later, but Wanda, I saw Natasha when I was out last night.”
“Oh, shit!” she exclaimed. “What did you say to her? Please don’t tell me you said anything about Bucky!“
“I told her Bucky lusted after her, then gave her his number,” you admitted, closing your eyes to try to stave off the stinging tears. “She texted me last night and said she was going to ask him out today.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.”
Sorry? Huh?
“Don’t be. He’s wanted her for a while now, I just didn’t have the guts to lose my best friend to her.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.
“Are you still there, Wan?”
“I’m still here, but I’m wondering why you’re a total moron.”
You opened your eyes, glaring at the nearest object, which just so happened to be your lamp. “Excuse me?”
“All you did last night, Y/N, was text about Bucky. Did he sleep with Rosie? Do you think he slept with Rosie? Do you think he’s in love with Rosie? What about Natasha? Did he still want Nat? Doesn’t he care about me at all?”
The only thing you could do was groan again, feeling utterly stupid.
“Don’t you see, you absolute moron? You’re in love with Bucky. I had my suspicions all along, but now this kind of solidifies it, don’t you think? That’s why you didn’t want to give Nat his number, and that’s why you don’t want to lose him.”
“Have you picked up the drinking where I left off, Wan? You’re so far off from the truth, it’s not even funny.”
“Am I? Then explain these texts: Wanda he doesn’t care about me. Bucky hates me. He’ll forget all about me. I can’t lose him, Wan! Not one message said anything like that about Peter. Not one, Y/N. You really love Bucky, and you’re scared because you finally realized it.”
That was like a kick in the gut. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? I think you need to take some time and think about what…or who…you really want, Y/N. Before it’s too late, preferably.”
“Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?” you whispered into the phone, feeling like your heart was cracking. “I need someone to be with me today. I know if I’m alone, I’ll sit and mope all day.”
“I won’t let you be alone,” she promised.
---
We’re going out tonight! Just wanted to say thank you again! –Nat
You stared at the screen, wondering if your brain was still so muddled from your hangover that you were no longer capable of reading correctly. Surely, this newly received text didn’t say that they were already going on a date, one day after the whole debacle of the wager went down?
Boy, he didn’t waste any time, did he?
There was still no word from your supposed best friend after last night. There was no way you were gonna text him first, not after remembering what went down, and everything you may have said.
He was probably a little bit mad about the Natasha thing, but couldn’t he get over it? He told practically everyone how he felt about her. Steve and Sam knew…even Vis and Wanda knew!
He was finally seeing her tonight, and all would be well with them. Why did he have to hold it against you? What a baby.
Anyways.
You got out of bed, and the first thing you did with what little energy you could muster was grab a blanket and move to lay on the couch.
Wanda promised she wouldn’t let you spend the day alone thinking about your humiliation, but she still hadn’t arrived yet. You hoped against hope she was stopping for coffee and bagels or something. You could really use some strong caffeine right about now.
You pulled the blanket over you with a sigh, and flipped through the channels until you came across a movie that looked familiar. ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ Just what you didn’t need to see.
“Oh, screw you. Guys and girls can be just friends,” you yelled at the TV, throwing your tissue box at the screen. You clicked through some more channels.
It was like the world was laughing at you.
My Best Friend’s Wedding was on, too.
Another farce.
The best friend is about to marry this beautiful woman that you can’t help but like, while Julia Roberts tries desperately to sabotage the wedding because she realizes (or maybe just thinks) she’s in love with him. That was so stupid. Who lets it get that far? If she loved the guy, she should probably just go ahead and tell him.
When Bucky and Natasha eventually got married, you weren’t going to run up and make out with him to try to stop him. You wanted him to be happy, even if-
Your eyes widened, no longer seeing the movie on the screen, but picturing Bucky standing at the altar with Natasha, looking happier than ever.
You’d been about to say ‘even if it wasn’t with you.’
What.
The actual.
Fuck?????
Your hands got all clammy again as you thought it through. What the hell kind of thought was that? You pushed the blanket off your legs and stood up, pacing back and forth anxiously.
Was Wanda right?
Were Harry and that stupid Sally right, too?
Were you…in love…with Bucky?
Your heart started racing as you heard a knock on the door. When you swung it open, Wanda stood there, coffee and bagels in hand as you’d hoped for.
“Y/N, it’s been so long,” she answered dryly. “I promised I would be here, so here I am.”
“Wanda, get in here!”
You shoved your friend inside the apartment while she tried to balance the coffee without spilling.
“What the hell, Y/N? Careful!”
The door slammed shut behind you, and you turned to her with anxious eyes.
“Am I really in love with Bucky?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your voice down just in case he was across the hall.
Not that someone could hear you when they weren’t home, but in bed with another woman…ugh…
“Wanda?” you repeated, feeling like you might be sick. “Am I?”
“What?” She laughed, moving inside and heading for the kitchen counter. “Why are you asking me? I already told you how I felt about it, how I think you feel. Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if you’re in love with Bucky or not?”
“I don’t know! I’m so confused right now, and I just don’t know,” you rambled, following behind her, your hands wringing together. “He’s my best friend. People can be just friends, Wanda!”
“Calm down, Y/N. Let’s think this through, okay?”
“Okay,” you nodded, reaching for a coffee and taking a sip. “Okay, yes, coffee is good, thinking is good. Thinking is my best skill.”
“Over-thinking, maybe.”
“That’s not helping!”
“All right, all right!” Wanda held her hands up in surrender. “When you picture yourself with someone, settling down with them forever, who is it? Who do you see beside you?”
“I can’t ever picture it,” you admitted, setting the drink down. “I’m not that kind of person. I mean, I try, but I just…fairy tales are for children, you know?”
Wanda leaned against the counter, nodding. “Okay, we’ll come back to that. When you picture Bucky settling down with someone forever, who is it?”
You frowned at your friend. “Honestly, my first thought is Natasha.”
Her eyes widened a little. “And how does that make you feel?”
“You sound like a TV therapist right now.”
“Do you want my help or not?” she huffed, rolling her eyes and sipping from her own coffee.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Okay, how does it make me feel…?” You closed your eyes, trying to picture Bucky and Natasha at the altar again. “It makes me feel a little bit crazy.”
“You’ll need to be a little more precise than that. Explain.”
You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to try to calm your overactive, extremely loud heartbeat. You met her gaze again, and you knew you could be honest with her. “Well, for one, it makes me want to kick Natasha in the shin.”
Wanda laughed. “And what about Bucky?”
Shit. You knew what you were picturing. “I want to grab his face, and plead with him not to leave me.”
She smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that all you want to do?”
You closed your eyes again, trying to imagine it. There was definitely more to the story, parts you would never let yourself picture before.
“No,” you admitted weakly. “That’s not all.”
“Could you picture yourself up on that altar beside him instead of Nat?”
There was no hesitation this time.
“Yes.” Your response was a mere whisper, but you couldn’t have managed a louder voice if you tried.
“I think you have your answer then, don’t you? I mean, you did try to keep Natasha away from him so you could keep him a little longer. Plus, I think, and this is just me observing from afar here, but…I think you purposefully sought out douchebags to date so you didn’t have to commit to anyone else.”
“I…really? You think?” Your brows scrunched in disbelief. “I thought I just had a type?”
“Yeah, you have a type all right. Tall, dark, blue eyes, and lives across the hall from you.”
“But he’s going out with Natasha tonight,” you groaned, moving back over to the door to peer out of the peephole. There were still no signs of anyone across the hall. “He probably isn’t even back from Rosie’s, since he slept with her and all.”
“You don’t know that he slept with her.”
You made a face at her over your shoulder. “I do too! He told me I won! That means he didn’t make it through the whole date without putting the moves on Rosie.”
“Well, I’m not convinced. He could have forfeited the whole thing. And if he did sleep with Rosie, does that change how you feel?”
“No.”
Boy, she was just getting you to admit everything. If she kept this up she’d probably squeeze your bank card information out, too. You were just too willing to spill right now. Stupid emotions!
You chewed your lower lip, a new thought coming to your mind. “How do I know I’m not manufacturing these feelings because I’m about to lose him?”
“Do you feel like these feelings are out of the blue? I mean, really admitting to yourself, Y/N. Are they new?”
She had you there. Your heart told you the answer, and you shook your head no.
“So try to find him before his date tonight then! What are you doing talking to me when you could be out landing your Mr. Right for once in your freaking life?”
“Ahhhh!” you yelled, hands flying up in the air. “I am so nervous!”
What would you even say? Hey, Bucky, good luck on your date tonight, but oh by the way, don’t go on it because I love you?
Feh!
You looked at Wanda with terror in your eyes, silently imploring for answers.
She offered you a bright, confident smile in return. “Don’t be nervous. If anyone on this planet knows just what to say to Bucky, it’s you.”
---
Alone again, you got properly dressed, did your hair and makeup (but not overdoing it, you didn’t want to seem too weird), and were now pacing in front of your door, waiting for signs of life across the hall.
Wanda had disappeared right after her last pep talk, making you promise to not only stay away from alcohol tonight, but to not let Bucky out of your sight without telling him how you feel.
She told you one way or another, your relationship with Bucky was going to change, so why not make it the way you want? She had a point.
Your feet were getting tired from standing up with no breaks, but you didn’t want to miss him. Not knowing where he was or what he was up to was super weird. He hadn’t texted you yet today, either. You didn’t really go this long without talking, so something was definitely up.
Just as you were about to give up and go rummage for food, you spotted him at his door, finally, carrying a few grocery bags. Before he could disappear inside, you opened your door and stepped out, avoiding eye contact.
You had to make it seem like a coincidence.
“Y/N, hey,” Bucky spoke up from his doorway. “How are you feeling today?”
“Oh, hey Bucky! Didn’t see you there,” you fibbed. Ugh, could you sound anymore rehearsed? “I’m fine, how are you?”
“Fine.” He set the bags down just inside the door and then walked over to you, his blue eyes unreadable. “Y/N -”
“Listen, I’m sorry about last night,” you offered, interrupting him. You needed to talk first, or you’d lose the courage to speak at all. “I didn’t mean to get that drunk, and…well…“
“Why did you, though?” Bucky asked, his eyes staring into yours intently. “That’s not like you, Y/N.”
“I don’t know,” you confessed with a shrug. “Just thought it would be a salve for my personality, I guess, to help me make it through the terrible date.”
He shook his head. “This stupid wager wasn’t worth it, Y/N. Not if you put yourself at risk like that. You know I’d cook for you anyways, right?”
Your heart did that fluttery thing again. Maybe you needed to have that looked at. Between that and your stomach issues, you were a total mess.
“It’s okay, Bucky. I guess…I guess it doesn’t really matter now. You’re a winner, too, right? By the way, Nat’s excited about your date tonight. She texted me about it and thanked me again.”
Bucky frowned a little. “You know about tonight?”
“Well, like I said, she’s been mentioning you for a while now, so…” You forced a smile to your face, knowing you were chickening out. “So, she thought she’d share the news…”
“Yeah, I just…she texted and I- I guess I didn’t see a reason not to go…” Bucky’s voice trailed off, glancing down at his feet before looking up at you again.
Was he waiting for you to joke about it? You had always sort of mocked his thing for Natasha.
In the end, you didn’t have the heart to make things worse for him. If he needed you as a friend, and wanted Nat as a girlfriend, then that’s what would happen and you’d be supportive.
“I think you’ll have a great time.” You gave a firm nod, and your heart clenched a little. “Anyways, good luck tonight. See ya!”
“Yeah,” he replied, his tone a little lower. “Thanks. See you.”
In a quick retreat, you turned and headed down the stairs as fast as your legs would take you, needing to get away from Bucky, away from this entire situation.
You didn’t wanna see him bring her home later, and shut the door on your hopes for good.
---
Saturday afternoon came and went, and by evening, you still didn’t want to go home. After all, Bucky’s date with Natasha probably wasn’t over.
You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought and mental picture.
Longing was the worst.
Or was it pining?
No, those meant the same thing, you were pretty sure.
Either way, you hated both words.
These awful feelings ended up making you forget how to be anything but a wishful thinker. They robbed you of your ability to make good decisions, leaving behind only misery in the shell of who you used to be.
For fuck’s sake, when did you become so melodramatic? There was no way you were going to sit around all night pining for Bucky.
Instead, you spent the bulk of your day in Brooklyn, visiting the botanical gardens, then walking aimlessly to people-watch for a while.
You killed some more time by walking across the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan, then sat in a Starbucks near the office for about an hour. When you were finally out of things to do to distract yourself on short notice, you decided the coast was probably clear to return home.
By now, his choice would have been made, and you’d be safe to sneak in your apartment unnoticed.
With your mind made up, you threw away your empty coffee cup and headed for the door. You’d barely taken a step outside when you almost ran smack into a familiar person.
An all-too-familiar person, one of the last people you would expect to see anywhere but Bucky’s apartment right now, to be exact.
“Natasha?”
“Hey,” she said, a smile forming on her pretty features. “Y/N! Fancy seeing you here.”
“Yeah, you too. I assumed you’d still be with Bucky?” It was still pretty early in the evening. Dates that go well usually…end well?
Nat raised an eyebrow at you, shifting her bag closer to her body. “Why would you assume that?”
“Well, you had your date tonight, didn’t you? It’s so early…I figured…”
“You figured that I would fall into bed with him on the first date? Well, that’s sort of offensive.” She gave you a smile to show she wasn’t serious.
That miserable, crushing guilt returned anyway. “I’m sorry, Nat, I didn’t mean it like that, really. I just…in all the romance stories, movies, whatever, once the protagonist finds their true love, they usually just…get right to it.”
“And what on earth makes you think I found my true love?” Nat shook her head. “You watch too much TV or something, Y/N. Bucky’s hot, sure, and he’s really sweet. We went to a little restaurant in Brooklyn around six-thirty, but I was out of there by seven. Didn’t even eat. Bucky didn’t stop looking at his phone the whole time, and honestly, if I had to hear one more story about something you and he did together, I was going to scream.”
“Wait, what?” You blinked in confusion, moving to the side when more people started trying to get past you and Natasha on the sidewalk.
“He was totally distracted. Didn’t seem interested in me at all. I thought you said he was into me?”
“He- he was, Natasha, I don’t understand, I -” You were stuttering now, stumbling over words, because you couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“I kind of get it now, why you were trying to withhold information from me. I sort of caught the drift a while ago.” She leaned closer, eyes searching yours. “When did you realize you were in love with him?”
“I- I don’t,” you sputtered, still unable to make a complete sentence. “I’m not.”
“Recently, then? Oh, Y/N,” Natasha shook her head at you almost sympathetically. “Go home. Go talk to him. I don’t think New York City can handle much more of you two if you don’t. I’ll see you Monday.”
“See you,” you mumbled, still trying to process what she said as she flounced away down the sidewalk.
How come everyone knew you loved him before you knew?
Did Bucky know?
Your face grew hot at the thought of Bucky knowing you were pining for him while he was off sleeping with Rosie.
The walk back to Brooklyn was making you more and more nervous with each step. Natasha had said he was distracted; what if he had a different date altogether, like Rosie, and didn’t want Natasha because you’d handed her to him?
Was it a pride or ego thing? Was he trying to prove a point? Maybe he wanted to teach you a lesson?
Maybe you didn’t understand Bucky as well as everyone thought, after all.
As you got to your apartment, trudged up the steps, and went to unlock your door, there was a loud a click behind you. Bucky’s door opened; you knew the sound by now.
You shifted your bag on your shoulder and turned to look.
Bucky was standing in his doorway, eyes wide. “Y/N. Hey…where have you been all day? I’ve been looking for you.”
“I, uh…I was playing tourist. My phone’s been off. I went to the botanical gardens, and then-”
“That sounds nice,” he interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked super uncomfortable and you couldn’t blame him.
You’d made a complete mess of your friendship in just a couple of days.
“Have you eaten dinner?”
“Nope.” Where was he going with this?
“C-can you…uh…Can you come over? I’m feeling pretty shitty and I don’t want to be alone.”
Ah. That sounded awfully familiar. Those were some of the same words you’d said to Wanda this morning, after realizing that Bucky was the cause of and solution to all your personal problems.
He was probably going to have The Talk with you, about how he was just not into you, and how wrong you’d been about Natasha, and then he’d drop the bomb and tell you all about his love for this mystery girl he’d been texting during his date.
It was probably Rosie.
Your stomach twisted in knots again. He had fallen for Rosie, hadn’t he?
He’d warned you - he’d suggested that maybe Rosie would be the one to make him change his ways.
What had you done?
“It’s been a rough day,” he added dejectedly, letting his hand fall to his side. “Saturdays are supposed to be better than this, right?”
Rough day? Was it realizing Nat wasn’t all he wanted? Or did something happen with Rosie?
The pain in your stomach got worse, and this time it was coupled with anxiety. That happened a lot around him anymore. “I don’t know, Bucky, I’m kind of tired, so I-“
“Please? Just for a bit. I really want to talk to my best friend.”
His pleading expression made all your protests disappear. Friends..that’s what you were, and that’s what you’d stay. As long as you didn’t lose him…
“Okay,” you agreed softly. “Just for a little bit.”
He nodded, then opened the door wider, silently inviting you inside.
You took a deep breath, then a few hesitant steps forward.
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,562
Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, drinking, bad jokes, angst
A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
Tags are closed. Only two parts left after this! I’m really sorry for pushing out two updates but I’m running out of time and work is going to be tough, so…
When Peter Quill first described the restaurant as a great place where he knew the owner, you hardly expected it to be one of the swankiest, most exclusive spots in Manhattan. To be honest, you originally thought he meant downtown Brooklyn.
Instead, you were whisked away in a short cab ride to a beautiful building in Manhattan, where the dining area was dimly lit, but not so much that you couldn’t see someone’s face. The walls were adorned with classic shots of the city, with the occasional signed celebrity photo. You even saw a couple of your Star Wars favorites among them.
It was stunning, and you were completely impressed.
Peter was ever the gentleman, offering his arm once again to lead you to your table in a quiet corner. He even pulled your chair out for you. The only other one who’d ever done that for you was Bucky, and it was one time.
There was wine already waiting for you in a shiny silver bucket, and some of the fanciest bread you’d ever set eyes on. Why did bread need to be that fancy?
Yeah, this was nothing like Brooklyn. It wasn’t that you didn’t adore your home, but man, was it nice to be spoiled.
Coincidentally, this restaurant was a mere three blocks from Bucky’s, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the awe you were feeling. His restaurant was lovely, too, but you supposed that you were used to it by now.
“So, Y/N, I can make some recommendations for you, if you have an idea of what you’re in the mood for,” Peter said, picking up the menu a waiter left on the side of the table. “You don’t have to listen, of course, but since I’ve been here before I thought it would be helpful.”
Boy, was he charming. You couldn’t remember the last time you were wooed quite this much.
“That would be nice, Peter. I think I’m in the mood for a nice, light pasta dish.”
He nodded once, then proceeded to describe about three different dishes, each one leaving your mouth watering just a little.
“I think I’m going to have the steak,” he added casually, looking around for the waiter. “Would you like an appetizer?”
“I think I won’t be able to eat all my food as it is,” you replied, eyeing the size of the dishes at the next table over. “I’ll pass.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right on this one,” he chuckled, meeting your gaze. His eyes sparkled, making him look even more handsome.
Maybe this date wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
When the waiter came back to take orders, you told Peter to go first, affording you a chance to send a quick text to Bucky.
Peter’s really great! I don’t get why you told me he was a douchebag? So charming, and this restaurant is crazy amazing! PS - How’s Rosie?
He hadn’t replied by the time it was your turn to order, so you begrudgingly put your phone back in your clutch.
Bucky had told you to text during the date, hadn’t he? Did you make that up? It was supposed to be entertaining, like a play-by-play of potentially bad dates.
Your phone was set to vibrate if someone were to message you, so you forgot about it for the time being.
Now you missed your best friend, though. If he was here with you instead of your current date, you’d probably be given even better recommendations, and then Bucky would describe all the ways he admired and disliked everything from the decor to the menu. He would suggest small changes, asking for your opinion, because, in his words, he needed to practice being Head Chef.
You really really missed him.
Blech. Getting sentimental on a date? This wasn’t like you at all. Must be the wine.
To distract yourself, you decided to bring up the one topic all men loved the most - themselves. This would either be a curse or a blessing to move the date along.
“So Peter, Bucky told me that you’re a helicopter rescue pilot?”
Peter’s eyes lit up; you could tell this was one of his favorite topics. “I am. It’s such an amazing career. To be able to help save lives, man…there’s really nothing better than that.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “That’s really awesome. What’s an average day like for you?”
He started describing, down to tiny details, what it was like to be him, so you reached for the wine bottle. Maybe this was the part Bucky was referring to.
“Here, let me,” he offered, reaching for the bottle and pouring some wine in your glass.
You gave him a grateful smile. These little things that Peter kept doing to be a gentleman were throwing you for a loop.
Just as you were about to interject about your own line of work, Peter opened his mouth and droned on some more about himself.
He talked, and he talked, and he talked, and not once did he seem to think to ask you about your own career.
You didn’t mind at first, because his eyes were still alight, and it was like listening to a little kid talk about their favorite story or toy.
To be honest, it was the same look Bucky got when he was talking about his own work. It was the look he’d share when you watched a great movie together, or you heard one of his favorite songs for the first time.
It was the same interested, excited look he got when you did anything together, really, even laying on the couch watching television.
Ten minutes passed, and Peter was still talking about himself, his skills, and his work. In that small span of time, Peter somehow managed to compare himself to Neil Armstrong, Luke Skywalker, Captain Kirk, Maverick from Top Gun, and a handful of other famous and/or fictional people whom he so clearly admired.
Your attention drifted back to your silent phone. You waited until Peter was busy reaching for some fancy bread, then pulled your clutch to your lap, sneaking a peek at the screen.
Still nothing.
Hey, where are you Buckaroo? You got some ‘splainin’ to do!
If he couldn’t laugh at yet another one of your favorite ‘I Love Lucy’ references, then you could assume the date was either going really badly, or so well he couldn’t be bothered to text you back.
The latter made you feel a little weird, but you shrugged it off.
“Y/N?”
Your head snapped up from your phone. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
You knew it was rude, but you wanted - no, needed - information. Maybe you should be paying closer attention. You had brought up his work, then zoned out. There was still the risk, as small as it was, that Peter would end the date early.
Did that still count as a win for you?
You’d still count it.
You will have made it through a whole date, in your humble opinion.
“I asked if you wanted some more wine. You seem to be really enjoying that.” Peter eyed you from across the table, and you instantly felt bad. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He was a really nice man, just a little bit weird, and he didn’t deserve your lack of participation in this date.
“Yes, that would be great, thank you.”
He cleared his throat, clearly a little bit uncomfortable. “Also, umm…can you…uh, maybe not look at your phone every five minutes then, so we can talk during our date?”
Busted.
“Sorry,” you replied, feeling your nerves start to fray a little. Two could play at this game. “I was just a bit distracted, thinking about a tough assignment that’s sitting on my desk at work. I have a job, too. It’s-“
“Hang on a second, hon, I have to order the wine. There’s only so much in one bottle after all,” he cracked, glancing around for the waiter again.
Your eyes narrowed dangerously.
Hon?
And, there was definitely sarcasm in his tone that time.
This must have been Peter’s inner douchebag showing, the side Bucky had warned you about. Your best friend hadn’t thrown the wager after all. He was testing you.
“Just one? What are you going to drink?”
Peter looked back at you, eyes wide, until he realized you were kidding. Well, half-kidding at least. He at least had the decency to give you a courtesy chuckle.
This Peter Quill, maybe he wasn’t for you, but he was a mostly nice guy.
Maybe Rosie would like him.
“By the way, since you brought up your job, I didn’t know you worked with Nat?” Peter leaned forward, a small smile on his face as he relaxed again. “I myself have known her for a couple of years. She’s freaking great, isn’t she?”
“Natasha is great,” you agreed, your tone even. Every freaking person on the planet seemed to agree with that. “But we don’t work together. Just at the same company. In fact, I’m not even really sure what-”
“But her work is exciting, I think. She works directly for Tony Stark. That has to be pretty badass. She told me she wants to date Bucky, but-“
“So Peter,” you interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence. Your stomach turned again. “I wonder if our food is almost ready, I’m starving.”
“Did you say…Starlord?”
“W-what?” You blinked in confusion at your date, playing dumb. Thank goodness Bucky had already told you about Peter’s alter-ego. “Starlord? What’s that? Some kind of video game?”
“No, it’s me. I’m Starlord. That’s the code I go by when I’m flying.” Peter pointed at his now puffed-out chest. “It’s cool, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” you muttered, taking another sip of wine. “Super cool.”
“I figure that’s why you wore that necklace, right? You heard of me before, and you wanted to impress me?”
That got your attention. “No, Peter, I have never heard of you before. I bought the necklace and wore it because I personally really liked it. There’s nothing else to it than that.”
“Starlord though, get it?”
Was this guy for real? You gave a sharp nod. “Yes, Peter, I definitely get it.”
He seemed satisfied with your answer, which led to a rare moment of peace at the table. Peter Quill isn’t the type to like silence, though. It must have been bad for him, uncomfortable even, because he started asking about you for the first time all night.
“Anyways. You don’t work with Nat? What do you do for a living?”
Should you even bother to go into details? This was the part of every single date where the other party practically blacked out in boredom.
You sighed through your nose. Why not? It would at least pass some time until your pasta arrived. “I work in a technology lab in Stark’s research and development division. My boss is the world-renowned scientist, Bruce Banner? Ever heard of him?”
“Oh. No, sorry.” Peter’s eyes appeared to almost glaze over. That was quicker than you expected. “What’s…what does that job…entail?”
Bucky was the only one who never seemed bored out of his skull when you went on about work. Even Wanda, your freakin’ coworker (though she worked in a different department) always seemed ready to doze off at the first discussion of your work.
Not Bucky, though. Never Bucky, even when he was exhausted, or not feeling well, or whatever. He still listened.
Sometimes you’d come home and need to vent because a coworker wasn’t taking your skills or work efforts seriously. He’d sit with you while you let off some steam, never minding that you used lab terms, never closing his eyes to jokingly pretend to be sleeping like so many others.
Sometimes you’d come home from the lab, your brain pounding with the biggest headache, and all you would want to do is lay on the couch and forget the world.
You’d hear the door open, and Bucky would come in bearing some ibuprofen, then get you a glass of water, before ordering a pizza for you to share so that you could just relax. He was such a great caretaker.
And at the rate things were going, you could not only use some ibuprofen, but you could really use a message from your best friend.
You sighed, feeling like you were going to jump out of your own skin if Bucky didn’t text you back soon. You didn’t feel like discussing work right now, and especially not with your date. Why waste your breath?
“Bunch of boring science-y stuff, Peter. We don’t have to talk about it right now. I don’t want to make you fall asleep!”
“Oh, thank goodness. So anyway, back to my job…”
---
After the main course, Peter ordered dessert for himself – peach cobbler. The light was finally at the end of the date tunnel, and he had to go and order something else.
That figured.
Instead of watching him with crust and peaches in his mouth while he continued to talk, you daydreamed about all the delicious meals Bucky was going to cook for you.
The two of you never decided on a tie-breaker, so maybe he would still be willing to do half a week if you both won. Fresh salad with strawberries, homemade waffles with actual maple syrup, not that sugary garbage in stores…yeah you could practically see it all now. You could practically taste the food.
At least you’d get one final thing from the friendship, before Natasha took him away from you for good.
Your head snapped up, and you started chewing your bottom lip nervously when you realized that you still hadn’t gotten any texts.
“Something wrong?” Peter paused mid-bite with a look of concern on his face.
“No,” you lied, fidgeting in your seat a little. “Everything’s fine.”
He used his fork to gesture to the dessert. “Do you wanna try some cobbler? It is a-maz-ing!”
You shook your head. “I’m good, thank you.”
Where the hell was Bucky?
As if someone was listening to your thoughts, your phone finally buzzed. You decided to grab your clutch and head to the restroom for some privacy, leaving Peter with his cobbler.
“Be right back,” you said with a smile, standing up with a little bit of a tipsy wobble. All that wine probably wasn’t the best idea. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”
“Good luck if it’s a number two!” Peter didn’t even look up.
You cringed at the crass remark, then headed toward the back of the restaurant. Once you were inside a stall, you locked the door and leaned against it, practically ripping your clutch open to get to your phone.
There was only one message from Bucky, but you were super eager to read it. Could he really get through a whole date without having sex with the girl? Rosie was pretty, sure, but was she one to put out on a first date? Maybe. Whatever.
You clicked the little messages app, opening up the latest text from Bucky.
As soon as you did, your heart sank, and you felt sick to your stomach. It was short and to the point, and you knew it could only mean one thing.
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,528
Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, bad date, implied sexual situations (no smut)
A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?” I think this will have at least seven parts, so Kait, please feel free to disregard it till it’s completed :)
Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?”
You glanced up, blinking slowly at the man sitting across the table from you. Your eyes felt like they’d been scraped with sandpaper, and you desperately wanted to leave. “No, I’m sorry?”
Your illustrious date for the evening, Alex, rolled his eyes. He was some sort of architect, so you figured he was droning on about buildings, but you weren’t too sure.
He pushed his glasses up his nose with a haughty expression. “I assumed as much. Should have known it’d be too deep for a first date.”
Great, you just loved it when men treated you with such condescension.
You took in his features. He was not that much taller than you, had deep green eyes, and brown hair that seemed too weighed down with product to ever move on its own again. He’d called you after a coworker of yours (the fun, flirty, happily married Wanda) slipped him your number. She’d decided to take you on as a pet project of hers.
‘Operation Get Y/N a Boyfriend,’ she had called it.
This whole date made you wonder if Wanda thought you were on the verge of joining a convent, or adopting six cats or something. Why the hell had she chosen this guy for you?
Your eyes narrowed and a new burst of energy filled your limbs.
You reached for your clutch and pushed your chair back to stand up. “If by deep you meant endless and insipid, then sure. Thank you for the free water, free breadsticks, and sudden urge to take a nap. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date where I didn’t even make it to the salad. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go clean my refrigerator or something.”
Alex rolled his eyes so hard you figured he lost a few brain cells in the process. “Good luck trying to find a husband with that attitude!”
You didn’t even respond, choosing instead to walk away. This Alex loser didn’t deserve a second more of your time and attention, and you certainly didn’t want him to see what you assumed was a hurt expression on your face.
The real shame was that his stupid words did hurt you. They hit a little too close to home.
As you weaved your way around tables and between chairs to the entrance of the expensive Italian restaurant, you didn’t meet a single stare, though you knew you must be causing at least a small scene, storming out this way.
It wasn’t always this way. You were usually super good at maintaining a steely-eyed expression in front of the people you dated, and you’d been on plenty of bad dates as practice. The stoic mask you wore had never failed you before.
No, it wasn’t until you were away from them that you let your guard down…let your real emotions show.
You hated your real emotions. You didn’t want them, didn’t want to face them, you didn’t want to feel them, so you shoved them down when you were in public as best you could.
This time, that douchebag’s words got to you, though, and you knew you needed support.
There was no shame in reaching out for support. The older you got, though, the more people seemed to drift away into their own lives. Jobs, spouses, kids, vacations, whatever it was that was taking all your friends away, you knew you wanted your own share of the fun.
Just not with Alex McDouchenozzle.
You reached for your cell phone and typed out a quick message to your best friend.
Are you free? Another disaster in the books.
Give me thirty minutes, came the response.
At least there was one person on this planet you could count on. You huffed as you pushed your way out the front door of the restaurant and onto the street, raising your hand to hail a cab. The chilly spring air sent a shiver down your spine, but soon a cab pulled to the curb and you were on your way home.
---
You trudged up the stairs to your second floor Brooklyn apartment, wondering which kind of bimbo you were going to pass in the halls this time.
As soon as you got to the landing, you smirked.
Your best friend and neighbor (though the neighbor part came first), Bucky Barnes, was standing in the doorway of his own apartment across the way, his hands currently cupping the backside of a short, stacked blonde woman who was giggling up at him. His eyes met yours over her head, and he returned your smirk.
“Will I see you again soon?” The woman wrapped her arms tighter around Bucky’s neck, her face moving closer as if she realized his attention had shifted. You hated when he brought home the clingy ones.
Ugh, even her voice made you cringe. It was all breathy, and you could almost picture her doe eyes blinking her long, fake lashes up at him. You broke your gaze from his and moved to open your door, slipping inside before hearing his answer, but leaving it unlocked.
After you unceremoniously dropped your clutch on the kitchen counter, you kicked off your heels and headed straight for the fridge to pour yourself a glass of wine. You sipped the sweet red beverage slowly, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm down and forget about Alex McDouchenozzle.
Your eyes popped back open when you heard your door open and close about ten seconds later. In true Bucky fashion, he wandered into your apartment and made himself comfortable on your couch, sporting lipstick all over his mouth and an oddly-shaped hickey on his throat. “So what happened this time?”
“Want some wine?”
“No thanks. Just wanna know how you managed to scare off suitor number…what are you up to? I lost count.”
“Hilarious.” You made a face as you took your wine glass over to the opposite end of the couch and practically melted into the cushions. You scooted so your legs were over his lap, and he began to massage your right foot gently. “For your information, this was only my second date this week.”
Bucky eyed you, a little bit of surprise in his blue eyes. “Only two? You’re slipping, Y/N.”
“And you’re predictable,” you shot back, trying not to groan when his hand moved to your left foot. You don’t know how he did it, but he was really good at foot rubs. “Tiny, giggling bombshell? Haven’t you had your fill?”
“No, but she did,” he quipped, laughing at your horrified expression. “Twice in fact. Once in the shower right before you got here. Wanna hear the details?”
“No, thank you.” You let out a sigh, reaching to set your wine glass on the coffee table, then leaned your head back on the armrest of the couch. “I bet her name was Bambi or Barbie or –“
“Not even close. Her name, if you must know, was Becky. What about your date? What was he like?”
“Who, boring-as-hell Alex with the superiority complex?” You closed your eyes. “I don’t want to talk about him ever again. I don’t know what Wanda was thinking, setting me up with the world’s worst storyteller.”
“At this point, I think all your friends and coworkers are just throwing people out there with a wing and a prayer, Y/N.”
“So funny, James. At least I want a real relationship. I want to find the elusive one person I belong with. You just seem to be content having more women in your rotation than the Yankees have pennants.”
He shook his head, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Beauty, brains, and baseball? I don’t know how this guy let you go.”
“If you aren’t here to make me feel better, then you should just go in your room and stare at yourself in the mirror, or whatever it is you pretty boys do.”
Bucky hummed at you. “If you’re back this early, you clearly haven’t eaten yet. Want me to make you something?”
That was the thing about having a sous-chef for a neighbor. He was always willing to whip something up quickly, and it always seemed like it was something that should take four hours. He always used his cooking skills to his advantage. Your stomach rumbled in response, and he frowned when he heard it.
“Let me guess, you didn’t make it past the salad? You sound famished.”
“Have you eaten?” you asked. You didn’t want to be the only one pigging out this late.
His wolfish grin returned. “Yes, tw-“
“Twice, including once in the shower, yeah yeah. Pervert.” You pointed at the kitchen. “Go make me some food, but thoroughly wash your hands first.”
You lifted your legs just high enough for him to slip off the couch.
“What do you want?” he asked, shuffling toward your small kitchen that held your meager ingredients and food supply.
“Surprise me.” The remote wasn’t close enough, so you begrudgingly sat up and reached for it. “What should we watch this time?”
“I got to pick last time.” His voice was muffled while he rifled through the refrigerator. “You pick.”
“How about The Force Awakens?”
“That’s fine. By the way, you really need to clean this thing. It’s truly disgusting.”
You couldn’t help but snicker.
---
Both of you were completely enraptured as you watched Rey lean over and kiss Finn’s forehead lovingly. She’d just managed to help save the day, along with some of the other characters, of course. Rey was such a badass.
“She’s hot,” Bucky commented casually. “She’s definitely a ten.”
Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him. He was so lucky he’d just made you the best grilled cheese you ever had.
Yes, a sous-chef made you grilled cheese. You couldn’t help it if bread and cheese were about all you had in stock.
Back to the matter at hand. “No way would you ever give her a second look. No way.”
His blue eyes glared at you. “Yes I would, she’s super hot! And she can wield a lightsaber. That makes her even hotter.”
“If you passed her on the street, looking plain as she did on Jakku, having had no shaving regimen, no way would you hit on her.”
“I would too,” he insisted, hands splayed on his lap. “A hot, sweaty, sand-covered space babe with skills? Hell yes.”
You scoffed, looking back at the screen. Rey was now piloting the Millennium Falcon with such ease, you were jealous. Feh. “No. You would have hit on that bitch who told on BB-8 at Maz’s cantina! Just your type, evil with tight clothes and heavy makeup!”
“You are so wrong. I’ve dated plenty of girls who didn’t wear tight clothes and lots of makeup. And none of them were evil!”
“Name one. A recent one.” You looked back at him, trying not to laugh as his eyes looked up at the ceiling as if trying to recall.
He looked back at you. “Camilla…”
“…Was a Rockette! She most definitely does not count!”
“All right, all right,” he relented finally. “Maybe I haven’t recently. That doesn’t mean I won’t.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You frowned at the TV when you saw the end credits roll. You completely missed Rey finding Luke on the island.
Bucky stood up and reached for your empty plates while you shut off the TV. “You’re on. If I find a date who’s plain or whatever, and give her a chance, will you get off my back?”
“At least one date with a normal woman, the whole way through, no sex. Just a nice dinner, where you treat her well. Think you can accomplish that?”
“Fine,” Bucky agreed, eyes meeting yours as you stood up in front of him. “But then you have to date someone who isn’t like you, someone who is another Alex-type, and get the whole way through a normal date without leaving early, or being sarcastic or mean.”
Well, there went your whole personality on dates.
Somehow you would have to muddle through.
“Why a douchebag? What purpose does it serve?”
Bucky made a face at you. “You don’t give everyone a chance, Y/N. How can you find ‘The One’ if you dismiss a date so easily? It’s just like taking a driver’s test, some people don’t ace it on the first try.”
“Fine. What do I get if I make it through a date with a douchebag?”
He took a few seconds to ponder this. “I’ll cook for you for an entire week.”
Shit…he had you there. Bucky was so freaking good at cooking, well on his way to becoming head chef, while you barely found your way around a microwave. “That’s not…unreasonable.”
Bucky’s lips lifted a bit in amusement. “Okay then. What do I get if I make it through a date with no sex?”
What did you have to offer in return? You were just a nerd who worked in a tech research lab, and it was highly doubtful that he’d want a new prototype before it was released to the public. Bugs and beta versions and whatnot.
That’s when it hit you. “I’ll get you a date with Natasha.”
Oh, how Bucky lusted for Natasha. Every time he would meet you for lunch at Stark Tower, he’d inevitably see her walk by, and his eyes would practically fall out of his head. She was single, and she’s asked after Bucky on at least one occasion, so you didn’t think it’d be an issue.
“What? Really?” Bucky’s eyes were wide.
He didn’t have to seem this enthusiastic. “Your over-eagerness is showing, Bucky.”
“Fine,” he consented, trying to seem cool and collected as he put his hand out. “You have a deal.”
“Fine.” You shook his hand briefly before dropping it. Time to treat him like the competition he was. “What if we both accomplish our goals?”
“Then we both win, I guess?” Bucky shrugged, seeming to not care about the details. “We could call truce and go on our merry way.”
“No,” you frowned, shaking your head. “There needs to be a winner. We have to be one-hundred percent honest with how things turn out. Oh! And, we should be the ones to pick each other’s date. That way there’s no cheating.”
“Sounds good. Let me know which girl I’ll be wooing before my big date with Natasha.” Bucky grinned a little, before turning on his heel to the door. “And I’ll be sure to find you just the right guy.”
You could practically already see the menu you were going to make up for him to cook, that’s how ridiculous he sounded.
“You’re on, Barnes,” you called out, as he shut the door behind him. This would be good practice for you. Maybe if you could sit through a date with a dbag, you could narrow your search a little more to find a good date.
Now you just had to figure out the real challenge - which one of your friends or acquaintances could you subject to Bucky’s man-whore ways without hurting her?
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,978
Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, complete and utter denial, social drinking, cheese - I needed something this fluffy ok? haha
A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
The sun was shining so brightly for the first time all week that you found yourself incapable of concentrating on your work. It didn’t help to know your best friend was out having fun in this unseasonably nice weather without you.
The restaurant didn’t open until evening, so he got to spend a lot of time during the day doing whatever he felt like doing, and you were completely envious. Your job had you sat in a sterile, boring lab while you worked the day away, and sometimes the night, too.
You wanted to go out and play.
Your supervisor, Bruce Banner, was a nice man, a super genius, and he could read people like a book. He would be able to tell if you were lying about being sick. No, you had to come up with something a little more urgent than that.
There was another way to do this. You reached for your phone, typing out a short message to Bucky.
Hey, can you call me on my cell real quick?
We never call each other, why can’t you just text?
You rolled your eyes, wishing Bucky could see your reaction.
I’m at work, but I don’t want to be. Help me play hooky, okay?
With your phone safely back on your desk, you tried to make yourself look busy with some simulations on your laptop.
The sound of your ringtone cut through the silent room, and Bruce looked up. “Aren’t you going to answer that? It’s so loud, I can’t hear myself think.”
“Sure, sorry about that,” you replied, thanking your best friend in your head. You pretended to be concerned. “Oh no, it’s my mom.”
“Make it quick,” Bruce told you, turning back around.
“Hello, Mom?”
“Hey there, Doll,” Bucky drawled out. “Wanna come out and play?”
“Mom, slow down! What happened?” You feigned a heightened concern.
“Oh, nothing too much, I just got back from the gym. There was this ridiculous redhead there, I’m talking tight-“
“Mom, that’s terrible!” you exclaimed, causing Bruce to turn around and stare at you. “I’ll be there as soon as I can! Just tell the doctors I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“I’m so sorry, my mom fell, and she’s really scared because she’s by herself, and-“
“Go on,” he said, waving you out the door. “She’s just out on Long Island, right? We can manage without you for half a day, I think.”
“Thank you, sir,” you said hurriedly, grabbing your phone and bag. “I really appreciate your kindness.”
He merely let out a ‘hmph,’ and kept working.
You weren’t about to stick around to find out if he really bought it. You raced toward the exit, and your temporary freedom.
---
“That was kind of fun,” Bucky told you, squinting to try to see you in the beautiful sunlight. “Ya know, listening to you lie through your teeth to your boss.”
The two of you were laying side-by-side in the grass, in a park near your apartment building. You figured no one from Stark Industries would try to come find you and drag you back this far away from Stark Tower.
“Yeah, it’s super fun to lie to someone,” you muttered, frowning up at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds above you.
The guilt of lying and skipping out on work hit you; this wasn’t something you did. It wasn’t like you at all. “Now I have to make sure my bad karma doesn’t actually come around to really make my mom fall or something.”
“Don’t feel bad about it, Y/N, you work constantly. You’re never available during the week, and you deserve a little fun and relaxation before it gets dark outside once in a while. When’s the last time you took a day off, anyway?”
Bucky was the king of finding ways to cram fun times in during the work day. He got to do fun stuff like go sample potential restaurant vendor’s foods, or scope out a meeting room for a corporate catering event. He got to be out and about more than one would expect, because the head chef where he worked was insistent that he train him properly before he retired and Bucky took over.
You pondered his question. “I had a day off around New Year’s.”
“See! That’s ridiculous to go that long without some paid time off. You’re crazy if you feel guilty.” Bucky scooted closer to you, pointing upward. “There’s a cloud that looks like two rabbits having sex.”
It so did not. “It looks like flowers.” You gestured to the sky. “See? Those are flower petals, not rabbit ears, ya pervert.”
“Your observations are not only really innocent, they are really wrong,” he insisted, turning his eyes toward you again. His laugh lines made an appearance, and you realized just how much you’d missed days like this with Bucky.
You smiled at him, but it soon fell when you saw his expression change. “What’s wrong?”
Bucky shook his head, eyes serious. “Nothing.”
“I know when something’s bothering you…”
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I think…I think Max’s retirement is happening sooner than later. I think that’s why he encouraged me to take this upcoming week off. It just feels like the calm before the storm, I guess.”
Only Bucky would see a promotion that way. You rolled to your side, propping your head up on your right arm to face him. “You’re ready, Buck. I know it.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, then looked away from you, back up to the sky. “Maybe.”
“No maybes.”
For a man so confident with everything else, Bucky sure knew how to second-guess himself with work.
“As someone who has seen the masterpieces you can create, and someone who is very picky, let me assure you that you are definitely ready to take over as head chef. You’re so talented, Bucky, and the staff all love you. They believe in you, and so do I.”
His eyes flickered back to yours, before he sat up all the way. His arm wound around you, forcing you to sit up, too, until you were tucked under his arm and into his side. You shifted so you were a little more comfortable, but didn’t protest.
“Thank you,” Bucky said softly, squeezing your arm a little.
---
You and Bucky walked back to your apartment building together, but you left him at his own door so you could go take a shower. You were pretty sure you still had grass in your hair, despite his best efforts to pick it out for you, and you didn’t want to feel gross for later.
Bucky had called his friends Steve and Sam, and you called Wanda and Vis to come over for poker night. It was a rare occurrence for a Thursday night, but the six of you hadn’t hung out in a while, so everyone seemed really eager for a fun night of losing money to friends.
You helped set up snacks and alcohol over in Bucky’s apartment, while he set up everything for the actual game, including a card table with folding chairs.
“Where are the potato chips?” you asked from the kitchen. “They aren’t in the usual spot.” The usual spot was, of course, right on the counter for convenience.
“Check the grocery bags,” he called back.
“Ah.” There were three or four bags of groceries on the counter that he hadn’t unpacked yet. “I can’t believe you’re actually letting us use store-bought spinach dip and salsa.”
Bucky wandered into the kitchen, moving to wash and dry his hands beside you. “I didn’t have time to make anything. Someone made me go outside and play today, remember?”
You grinned at him, then turned back to the bags to set everything out. “They’ll live. Although Wanda and Vis have yet to experience the bliss that is your nacho cheese dip.”
“Some other time, I’m sure.” His hand brushed your shoulders gently as he steadied his weight on you to reach above your head for a bowl.
You were surprised to feel a little shiver at the touch.
What the hell was that?
Maybe you’d spent too much time in the sun, and now you were cold. “The apartment’s sort of chilly, I’ll turn the air down.” Before he could reply, you moved away and back into the living area to the thermostat.
A knock sounded on the door, and you looked over your shoulder at Bucky before throwing it open. Steve and Sam appeared in the doorway, wasting no time to group hug with you.
“Hey, strangers,” you laughed, hugging them back. “Been a while!”
“No shit,” Sam said, pulling away to nod at Bucky. His eyes turned back to you, and he grinned. “I can’t wait to win some of that Stark paycheck away from you tonight, Y/N.”
“You wish, Wilson,” you retorted, chuckling as he headed for the food. Your eyes slid to Steve. “What’s new with you?”
He shook his head, his blue eyes bright despite the dim lighting in Bucky’s apartment. “Same old, Y/N. You know how it goes.”
“Oh, yes,” you began sarcastically. “I know exactly what it feels like to be a New York City police officer and protect millions from danger. Do it every day.”
“Hey, I do that, too!” Sam’s voice was muffled by the massive amount of chips he’d already tried to shove down his throat.
Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were two of the most built, most honorable men you knew. You met them one random day, about a month after you’d first moved in and gotten to know Bucky.
Steve had offered to carry your heavy groceries upstairs, while Sam offered to open the door for you, not about to be outdone. When you’d reached the landing on the second floor, Bucky was standing there, shaking his head at his friends for what he had called their shameful and blatant attempt at flirting.
They’d both sheepishly grinned at you, but soon after, Bucky told them you were off-limits. Not that you minded…it would have probably been weird to date your neighbor’s friend so soon after meeting them.
Plus, you couldn’t choose between them.
Where would you even start?
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Wilson,” Steve retorted. He gave you one last smile before moving to see what food Sam had left for everyone else.
---
Wanda and Vis arrived shortly after the others, and once the game was in full swing, you found yourself in an unusual and rare position: you were completely owning their asses at nearly every hand.
“When did you get this good at poker?” Wanda asked, making a face at you. “Last time, I got you to go all-in on a pair of Kings and lose everything to me.”
She and Bucky were the only two that called when you raised this last round. You figured she was underestimating your skills at this point…why else would she want to send so many chips your way?
“Bucky’s been teaching me,” you admitted, looking over at your best friend with a smirk. “He told me I couldn’t embarrass him in front of his friends with my terrible calls anymore. By the way, I raise.” You tossed two chips into the pot.
“That is so not true,” Bucky protested, pretending to be offended. “I said I wanted you to get better so that you could start buying the rounds more often when we go out.”
“Whatever, either way, I’ve learned more.” You glanced from Bucky, to your cards, then back to Wanda’s face. You studied her for a moment, since it was her turn. “What’ll it be, Maximoff? Call or fold?”
She eyed you warily. You could tell she was trying to figure out if you were bluffing about not only your cards, but your newfound skill set as well.
Ultimately, she laid her cards down. “I fold.”
You did a little dance in your chair. The pot was close to $300, and you could really use the spare cash.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Doll.”
Your eyes flickered up to Bucky’s, and you set your mouth in a straight line as you attempted to stare him down. Normally, it was totally useless to try to get the best of Bucky when it was you versus him, because he was so good at reading all your tells. He even informed you during one of the poker lessons that you chewed your lip when you were nervous.
That’s what happens when you spend that much time with someone, you supposed.
Bucky was staring right back at you, amusement plain as day on his features. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly.
“What do ya think, Buck?” you asked, grinning at him playfully. “Am I holding the winning hand, or am I playing you for a fool?”
“Oooh,” Steve said, laughing. “Those are fighting words.”
“You two are entertaining as hell,” Sam added, leaning back in his seat. His eyes were darting back and forth between you and Bucky. “I should have brought popcorn.”
“I think she’s got something,” Vis chimed in. “She hasn’t had a bad hand tonight.”
“How do you know?” Wanda asked him incredulously. “Y/N hasn’t had to actually show half the hands tonight. Someone keeps folding!”
You let out an overdone cackle, trying to play it up for your audience. “Time’s a-wasting here, Bucky. Call or fold?”
Bucky leaned forward, still staring at you with steely determination. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he nodded at you. “I’ll take a chance. I think you’re bluffing. I call.” He reached down and tossed two chips into the pot.
“Show ‘em!” Steve said, tapping the table anxiously.
You set your hand down at the same time Bucky did. His hand was pretty good; he showed three aces.
But you had a straight, queen high.
“Read ‘em and weep, suckers!” you shouted, happily leaning over the table to grab your winnings.
Bucky was smiling at you when you looked up at him to brag some more. He didn’t look put off in the least.
You made a face. “You knew I wasn’t bluffing, didn’t you?”
He nodded, still smiling, as he laced his hands together behind his head and leaned back in his chair.
“Yet you still threw more money in. Why?”
“Because they need to see you haven’t just learned to bluff, but that you’re really good now.”
Oh. You couldn’t help but find that answer a little disappointing, but you tried not to let it show on your face.
“Besides, you light up when you win,” he added. “It makes the game more fun.”
“Awww,” Sam said, nudging Steve. “Such a softie.”
“Only for Y/N,” Steve added, standing up. “Well, I’m completely broke now, so thanks for that. We’ll have to lose to you guys again sometime.”
---
Once everyone had left, you stayed to help clean up. When Bucky wasn’t looking, you reached into your pocket and counted out $150 from the last pot, then tried to slip it onto the counter top.
“Put that back in your pocket, right now,” Bucky warned from the living room.
“How the hell did you even see me?” You stared at him in disbelief.
“I’m not an idiot, I know you felt guilty as soon as I told you I called on purpose.” Bucky sighed, then left the mess in the living room to come over to you. His hand gently closed around yours as he shoved the money back in your grasp. “You won it, fair and square.”
“You’re a good best friend,” you said softly. It wasn’t like you really wanted to take the money now that you knew, but there were some bills coming up. He knew you needed it more than he did. “I think I’ll keep you.”
Bucky let out a chuckle, before enveloping you in his arms. “I think I’ll keep you, too. Now, leave this shit here, I can clean up in the morning. You have work again in the morning, don’t forget.”
“How could I possibly forget the joy of getting up early to go to work,” you replied, pulling back. “And don’t you forget that tomorrow is wager day.”
“I know, I know.” Bucky turned away to lean his hands against the counter. “Maybe we should just call off both dates. I don’t know how I feel about this anymore.”
“Why? Are you worried that I’ll like Peter so much that you’ll have to cook for both of us?” you joked. Since the thought crossed your mind earlier, you figured it was a good crack to make in front of the competition.
A little smack-talk never hurt anyone, right?
“Maybe I’ll like Rosie so much, my days of serial dating will be over?” His eyes met yours evenly, and you stared at each other in silent contemplation.
Wasn’t that the point of all this? To see if he could stop going through women faster than clean socks? And for you, to see if you could make it through a whole date, even if it was awful?
The silence dragged on, and you were starting to feel awkward about it. You very rarely felt awkward in front of your best friend, so this was extra weird.
“Well, on that note…goodnight, Bucky. Good luck tomorrow.”
“You, too. Goodnight, Y/N.” He gave you another smile, but this one didn’t quite reach his eyes.
With one last look, you turned and walked to the door, opening it quietly. You moved out in the hall and closed the door behind you, refusing to let yourself look up again.
Once you were safely inside your own apartment, you leaned back against your own door, your stomach in knots.
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 2,613
Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, complete and utter denial, social drinking
A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
Wanda sighed at you as you both stood in line for coffee the following Monday. You’d just given her the rundown of your date (or lack thereof), and she wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear it.
“I can’t believe you didn’t like Alex! He’s got a great job, he’s handsome, and-“
“He’s a total prick,” you supplied, rolling your eyes. “Wanda, just because someone looks good on paper, it doesn’t make them a good match for me.”
You’d seen it before, soooo many times. How many guys had you met over the years that promoted themselves as caring, kind, deep-thinking, family-oriented, etcetera?
“Then let’s find you a real match. Use one of those dating app thingies.”
Wanda was so far removed from dating, having been happily married to her husband Vis now for two years (after three years of dating) that she didn’t even know any of the dating app names.
“I tried all the big name apps,” you admitted, shuffling forward as the line shortened. “It’s a world of unwelcome dick pics and unsolicited sexual compliments. OH! And do you know what the best part is? It’s when you aren’t interested and politely turn them down. They almost always throw back the old, ‘Well you’re just an ugly bitch anyways’ line.”
Wanda visibly cringed. “O-kay. So…how about those singles’ events that happen around the city? Speed dating, bar crawls, even trivia nights! There’s lots of events you can try.”
“Well, I have to wait and see when my date with the jerk that Bucky’s going to pick will be, before I can try for a real date,” you reasoned.
“You two are idiots. I can’t believe you agreed to this stupid wager. You could be out looking for Mr. Right instead of spending time with Mr. Bad Influence and his chosen stallion. You’re going to lose, you know. You’re tolerance for assholes is at an all-time low.”
“Why do you think I’ve never liked Bucky?” you joked, turning to order coffee for you both. “He’s their leader!”
When you were done paying, you turned to back to her. She was eyeing you silently. Her expression unnerved you, like she was trying to get inside your head and read your thoughts or something.
“What?”
“Why haven’t you ever liked Bucky? You guys are best friends, after all. Don’t they always say that the best relationships begin with a solid friendship?” An annoying little smile formed on her mouth.
You snorted sarcastically. “It’s called friend zone for a reason, sweetie. He’s got such a harem, you don’t even know. I could never trust a man like that in a relationship. No, we’re definitely better as best friends. God, we need to get you out of that penthouse more often, don’t we? You’ve been trapped in a wealthy bubble with Vis too long, and have completely lost touch with reality.”
“I’m not the one who’s lost it,” Wanda retorted. “Are you going to tell Natasha about your wager?”
Blech…Natasha.
The thought of your best friend seeing Natasha all the time made your stomach turn. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Natasha, you really did, but she was one of those women who were just perfect. She was a little too perfect. “Not yet. I don’t want him to get any advantage.”
“What advantage could that possibly give Bucky?”
Your mind reeled, trying to bullshit your way through an answer. “She might voluntarily go to him for a date, and then what incentive would he have to carry out his end of the deal? You’ve been to his restaurant, Wan! The food is so damn good! I’m going to win, and I’m going to eat so well for an entire week that your face will be green with envy.”
Wanda hummed at you. “Why didn’t you tell her about his interest in her, back when she said she thought he was cute?”
You shrugged. “He was seeing two different women at the time, and she deserves better than that. Anyone deserves better.”
She gave you another pointed look, but thankfully didn’t say anything else.
What you were truly worried about, though you’d never admit it to anyone, ever, was that Natasha was Bucky’s future wife. She was literally perfect for him, not just perfect in general. You could see it clear as day that they were absolutely, undoubtedly made for each other. They’d get married, move away, and you’d never see your best friend again.
It was totally selfish, and utterly unlike you, but you just weren’t ready to lose him.
Your eyes flitted back and forth between your nearly-ready coffee and your coworker. If she didn’t push the issue any further, you sure as hell weren’t going to volunteer anymore of your feelings on the matter.
She didn’t need to know the details. Once you found your own future husband, you could send Bucky and Nat on their merry way, and be content with seeing him once, maybe twice a year.
The way Wanda was silently smirking at you was making you uncomfortable.
“Come on,” you muttered, grabbing your coffee with a quick thank you to the barista. You turned to head back to the elevators, to the stacks of papers waiting for you in your lab. “We’ve got work to do.”
---
It was hours later, and you still couldn’t get the conversation with Wanda out of your mind.
Were you purposefully sabotaging your best friend’s sure thing relationship for your own selfish needs? How terrible of a person did that make you? Natasha was a nice girl, and you certainly loved your best friend enough to want him to be happy.
Natasha would obviously make him happy.
They deserved a chance, at least. You decided then and there, no matter how this all turned out, you were still going to let Natasha know that Bucky was interested. It was the right thing to do.
You were just finishing up your last notations when your phone buzzed next to your laptop. With a quick tap, you leaned over to read the message. The illustrious Bucky was summoning you.
Already found the perfect guy for you, Y/N! How’s it coming with trying to find me my own Rey?
Your eyes narrowed at the screen. How did he work that fast?
Actually, now that you thought about it, it made perfect sense. Bucky, as a woman-using douche himself, probably had a whole gaggle of douchebag friends to choose from. You sighed as you reached for your phone.
Haven’t found the right victim yet. Let me know when Romeo and I can meet.
You waited for a reply, and smirked at the screen when you got one.
You got it. His name isn’t Romeo, though, it’s Peter Quill. He’s a buddy of mine from my gym. He flies a rescue chopper for the Coast Guard. Who knows, you might like him, since you’re in love with all those Star Wars pilots.
Does he have dark, curly hair, and look like Poe Dameron?
No, but he’s not a half bad-looking dude. I still don’t think you’ll last an entire date with the guy, though.
You snickered. Fine, send him my number and let’s get this terrible date rolling.
Will do. Don’t forget your half of the wager. ;)
You’re stomach lurched a little. How could you possibly forget?
Heaving another sigh, you locked the screen and shoved your phone in your pocket, then shut off the desk lamp. You had stayed after hours again, having volunteered for the third time that week to do some internal testing on the latest gadget, as you were the only one without a family to go home to.
Maybe that would change. Maybe this Peter guy would turn out to only be a douche on the surface, and have a heart of gold deep down. After all, devoting your life to rescuing people wasn’t something to take lightly. This might actually work out in your favor.
This could be your chance to stay quiet the next time your supervisor asks for volunteers to complete projects after hours. You could stay quiet knowing that you had plans, or someone to go home to for the first time in your adult life.
You wondered if Bucky would be willing to cook for two when you win the bet with the help of your new pilot boyfriend. The thought made you giddy.
With your bag on your shoulder, you closed your lab door quietly behind you and turned to leave. The halls were practically empty except for a few from the janitorial staff, and the only other lonely soul who worked on your floor and stayed late regularly.
“Goodnight,” you called out to your coworker, Rosie, as you passed her cube to get to the elevators.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said softly. “Have a good one, see you tomorrow!”
“See you tomorrow.”
Poor thing. Rosie was such a good egg, and you wished she could find someone, too. She was painfully shy, though, and a self-admitted hermit. In fact, you can’t remember the last time you heard her discuss having a date-
You stopped short, nearly dropping your bag, then backed up a few paces.
She looked up at you in confusion.
“Hey, Rosie…what would you say if I told you I knew a guy who I think would be a good match for you?”
It was hard to keep a straight face, but there was chicken parm and homemade tiramisu on the line here. A little bit of guilt crept into your brain as your conscience tried to stop you, but you figured this might be a good experience for Rosie. Maybe she would be willing to give it a try.
Then again, it could stop her from dating for the rest of her life if Bucky really mucked things up.
Much to your relief, Rosie’s face brightened considerably. “Really? Who?”
You forced a smile to your face.
---
The next day, you met with Bucky at a pub after work for Happy Hour to go over your findings.
The two of you were sitting side-by-side at the bar, comparing pictures. It was pretty empty for a Ladies’ Night, which you were thankful for. You didn’t really want Bucky’s wandering eye to leave you here alone. While it hadn’t happened yet, you knew it was only a matter of time before he ditched you while you were out together.
“Rosie, huh?” Bucky’s blue eyes studied her picture carefully on your phone, before he chuckled and lifted his gaze to meet yours. “She’s not plain in the least. I’m starting to think you don’t know that many women, or at least how to compare what they look like to the word plain. This is Rey all over again.”
“She might not be plain, but she’s quiet and not flirtatious at all. And if you hurt her I will have to hurt you.” You grabbed your phone out of his hands. “She’s a nice person.”
“When’s my date?”
“This Friday night.”
Bucky nodded. “Good, because once I finish my shift at the restaurant Friday, I’m on vacation for that entire next week. I’ll knock this date out, win the wager, and have lots of time to prep for a real date on the following Friday night.”
He meant a ‘real’ date with Natasha, that smug sonofa…
“You mean, you’ll have time to cook for me that whole week after, then, don’t you?” you asked in a sweet voice.
“Ha! You won’t last, no freaking way. Rosie and I, on the other hand, are a good date waiting to happen.”
“Whatever.” You sighed through your nose in exasperation, taking a sip of your own cocktail. This man just never quit with the overconfidence, did he? “You have to pick her up in a fancy car or something, though. I told her you had money.”
“So you lied, then?” Bucky shook his head at you. “Should I be hurt? I’ve never needed a lie to sell myself as a good date, Y/N.”
“No, it’s not a lie, though,” you protest, brows furrowing as you looked over at him. “You’re a freaking sous-chef in a five star Manhattan restaurant. You’ve got money. You just choose to Fred Mertz it.”
Bucky made a face. “You’re lucky I know what that means, or I would think you were calling me old and cranky.”
That was true.
Sometimes Bucky would come over on Saturday mornings, whining that he was bored or hungover from his wild night before. He would try to get you to go with him for coffee, or breakfast, or get out and do anything, and sometimes you would.
But mostly, you were unwilling to move from your couch, or dress in something other than pajamas, or change the channel from your regularly scheduled viewing of reruns of ‘I Love Lucy,’ so he’d give up arguing with you over it, and just sit and watch with you. But his protests couldn’t fool anyone; you knew Bucky loved the show now, too.
“And I don’t penny-pinch and hoard money for no reason,” he continued defensively. “Some of us like having a savings account. Some of us want to purchase a grown-up place someday.”
You stuck your tongue out at him. He knew your paycheck was about one-fourth of his, and that in order to keep your beautiful Brooklyn apartment, you mostly lived paycheck-to-paycheck.
“Like I said, she’s a nice person. Just don’t, like, embarrass her or me or something.”
“Why’d you find me someone who was too nice to be used, then? Isn’t that the whole purpose of the date? To use someone so that we can prove a point one way or another? She’s your friend that you’re subjecting to the bet.” He reached in his pocket for his own phone. “I can’t imagine that I’ll be seeing her again, anyways, if she’s that nice. She’ll get her hopes up when she sees me, though, so I’ll try to let her down gently, for you.”
“So modest,” you muttered, tearing his phone out of his hands to see the picture he’d pulled up.
“That is one Mr. Peter Quill,” Bucky said, taking a sip from his beer. You knew he was watching your face for your reaction.
To your surprise, the man in the photo didn’t outwardly look like your regular Alex McDouchnozzle type. Peter was handsome, but in a boyish, dorky kind of way. You didn’t see a trace of smugness in his expression, but that was not always something they showed outright. You figured that around only half of them that did that, including Bucky. “What’s his douche level, in your opinion?”
“Well…” Bucky thought about it for a moment, taking another swig of beer before setting the bottle down on the bar top. “Peter’s a…complicated man. He thinks he’s a space pilot, even gave himself the code name Starlord to use on flights, though I’m pretty sure the Coast Guard frowns on that in serious situations.”
You bit back a laugh. “You’re serious with him, then? This Peter guy is my date?”
“Yep, and no way do you last a whole date with him.”
“Watch me.” You smiled down at Peter’s bearded face. “This couldn’t possibly be so bad. Maybe I can pretend his delusions are real to get through the date. Or, maybe he’s not as bad as you’re saying, and you’re just trying to throw me off my dating game so that I lose patience and leave the guy sitting there after appetizers? Either way, I’ll be fine.”
Bucky let out an almost evil laugh, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Remember those words when this Friday rolls around.”
