Stand up guy
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: With your date no where in sight you’re preparing yourself for another night alone, ready to file the whole thing under your growing evidence regarding the death of romance enter Bucky Barnes, friend, obscenely hot neighbor, and *checks notes* savior?
Warning: fade to black smut, making out, Bucky is cute, reader is lowkey avoidant attachment, waiter is canonically Joaquin, both of them are yearners TRUST ME
PSA (Pink Service Announcement): This fic is apart of the wonderful @salty-tang’s My Dear Darling Reader exchange! A beautiful event hosted by a beautiful person!!! You are so good to us and I cannot thank you enough for organizing and putting so much care into this event. This is based on prompt #7: Saved from a no show date
Dt: @quantumbarnes my dear sweet Veni I could not have been more excited when I found out I got to write for you! You are a ray of sunshine and everytime I interact or see you on my dash it brings me so much joy! You and your works are so beyond beautiful. Thank you for being patient with me while I tried to do you justice 🩷
Veni in my heart of hearts I’ve written you 10k of porn with plot, with so much yearning it makes my heart ache. In actuality the month of February snuck up behind me and hit me over the head with a club. Forgive me my love
Word count: 2.5k
What a waste of a pretty dress.
That's the thought you keep circling back to.
It'd been sitting in the back of your closet for almost two months, and impulse purchase that you had been waiting for the chance to wear.
Foolishly, you thought it was tonight.
Now, as the clock ticks almost an hour past the time your date was supposed to arrive, you're not so sure.
You don't know what's worse, the fact that you won't be able to wear it again, or that you're seriously considering asking the waiter for another bread basket.
"At least it can't get worse." You mumble to yourself, grabbing your butter knife and snatching the last roll.
You'll order another drink, get buzzed enough to numb the sting of rejection before you force yourself to go back to your apartment. Maybe you can kill another hour, spare yourself from the interrogation of your well-meaning roommate. She'll feel guilty enough knowing that she's the one who convinced you to go out with this guy anyway.
Then a bone shakingly familiar voice speaks from behind you.
"Hey stranger."
Bucky.
Bucky your hot, dream haunting, neighbor.
Fuck it can get worse.
You don't get the chance to turn around and greet him, Bucky instead walking around and taking the empty seat across from you.
"Bucky!" You feign excitement, forcing yourself to perk up. "What are you doing here?"
Bucky shrugs, looking around the restaurant as if he's unimpressed. "Was hungry."
Of course, a million restaurants in this city and he comes here. A casual twist of fate's knife.
Bucky's talking but you don't hear him, meeting someone he says. Been a while, explained with a casual wave of his hand.
You catch none of it.
Noticing your silence, Bucky finally looks at you, properly.
His expression falters, just for a moment.
"Oh shit you're-" he trails off, gesturing to the dress and the fancy table setting.
You're on a date.
Loud incorrect buzzer.
Maybe you could play it off. Say you're early, or he went to the bathroom. Anything to save face. You could slip out before he gets a chance to double back, disappear into the crowd of lovers on the sidewalk and avoid the embarrassment.
Of course, fate is not that kind.
"Finally!" Your waiter appears, seemingly out of thin air. He flashes Bucky a relieved smile, "Can I get you anything to drink? I can't believe you actually showed we were about to give up the table."
Mortification, white hot and inescapable climbs up your face.
You stammer, tripping over your own words as rush to explain that no this isn't him, and yes you are still waiting and if they have a gun in the back could they please bring it out so you can kill yourself-
"Can I get a water and-" Bucky nods to your empty wine glass, "A bottle of what she was drinking."
The waiter leaves, parting with a firm nod and a pleased expression. As he walks away you can see him turn back to you, mouthing an exaggerated Oh my god! And pointing at Bucky's back.
"Bucky," you swallow around the shock and embarrassment in your throat. "You don't have to do this really."
He doesn't acknowledge it. Doesn't look up, doesn't make eye contact, doesn't pass go or collect two hundred dollars. Instead he opens his menu and starts to browse.
"Any idea what's good here?" He asks, flipping through the thick pages.
You recover faster this time, your mouth only opens and closes twice before you finally speak.
"They're known for their steak." You answer.
The words blur in front of you, anything you might've read while waiting for your date gone from your mind. Your sensibilities pulled loose and numbed with wine and insecurity.
"Guess I'm having steak."
Dinner is… something.
Not the food, no the food is delicious, the food is out of this world.
But so is the company.
It's not that you didn't expect it from Bucky. He's a good neighbor, a good friend. He fixes your leaky pipes with a twist of his hand and changes the batteries in your smoke alarms because you can't reach them. He gives you that awkward, almost a smile when you pass in the hallway, and asks how your day is going every time you ride the elevator together.
Even then, it's like pulling teeth, stilted and borderline painful at times.
Tonight it's none of those things.
Tonight it all flows like water between you.
Stories, yours and his, a second bottle of wine and a shared dessert.
Bucky doesn't bring it up until the latter is set down in front of you, two spoons on one plate.
"So," He starts, stabbing a fork-full of cake with more force than necessary. "Who was the guy?"
You sigh, matching his force, the plate clattering with the sound.
"Blind date." You say morosely, "Honestly didn't even want to come."
Bucky hums. "So why did you?"
You shrug, another forkful gets swallowed before you answer.
"I've been single for forever." You emphasize the last word, "I kept thinking it would just happen, y'know? That love would just appear, and when it was right it would feel right."
Bucky nods, taking another bite. This time it catches on his lip, a drop of chocolate syrup dotting the corner of his mouth. You only think about licking it for a moment before Bucky's own tongue darts out. Pink and sinful it drags the chocolate over his bottom lip before finally wiping it away.
In a moment of sheer brilliance, you mind speaks from the gutter.
"That wasn't working so I figured I'd try this, thought maybe I'd at least get laid."
That lands like a fart in church, Bucky sputtering on his last few drops of wine.
"What about you? I never asked who you were supposed to be meeting?" You change the subject, dragging another bite into your mouth, anything to stop you form talking.
Bucky recovers more gracefully than you did.
"It was just a few friends," He clears his throat, "Honestly I'm having a much better time with you."
Your cheeks get warm, and you pray he doesn't see the smile that plays at the corner of your lips.
"Besides they would have tried to get me laid. God forbid." He adds.
The laugh it punches out of you is embarrassing, loud enough to turn heads at the surrounding tables. It's more shocking than it is funny, the look he gives you after more fond than smug.
"Wanna get out of here?" You're not sure if it's bravery that asks, or self-consciousness at the eyes of the other patrons.
"Way ahead of you." Bucky promises.
Way ahead of you' apparently meant Bucky had already paid the check while you'd gone to the bathroom, insisting the entire walk home that it was his treat
Really Bucky at least let me pay for half!
My mother would turn over in her grave.
You bicker, banter, brush hands the entire time. A goofy smile painted on your face, and you'd had the mind to noticed, you would have seen a matching one on him.
The elevator takes it's time getting to your floor. You both drag your heels once the doors open.
Even once you get to your apartment, you hesitate, turning your key in the lock but refusing to undo the latch.
A tiny voice inside you screams, begs you to drag it out, to make it last. Silently cursing your roommate for being inside, probably sitting on the couch waiting for a debrief.
Stealing one last moment you turn back to him, pressing your back to the door as you tilt your chin to meet his towering gaze.
He's easily a foot closer than usual, his typical polite distance shrunken to something more intimate.
When had he gotten so close?
"You're a good man Bucky." You tell him, smile pulling at your lips as you force yourself to swallow around your nerves
"I don't know about that." Bucky argues, metal hand rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment.
You scoff, "C'mon how many other guys would have spent their night trying to make their neighbor feel better?"
You want to make it obvious, let him know he's off the hook. You're not stupid. The way he's looking at you tonight? There's a softness in him you've never seen before, it's pity.
Isn't it?
Bucky struggles, for the first time since he sat down with you, he looks like he doesn't know how to say what he's thinking.
"God, Doll you still don't get it?" He finally whispers, sounding almost hurt. "That was me being selfish."
The air between you goes tight, what moments ago had felt safe, warm, easy, is now charged with something unspoken.
It hangs heavy, suffocating you in possibility.
You eyes fall, down to his hands fisted at his sides, the way his shoulders curl in on them selves, the gentle curve in his neck as he leans down into you.
His lips, parted and pink. His cheeks, flushed and freckled. His eyes, wrecked and wide.
He's rigid, body braced for the blow of rejection.
The ball is in your court, fate in your hands, two paths.
The fear, the kind that always bubbles up whenever the chance at love actually presents itself. It curls under your skin, twists in your stomach and makes you panic.
Your doorknob is in your hand, one twist and you could disappear inside, but you can't seem to make yourself do it.
You made your choice the second he sat down. You made your choice two weeks ago when you room mate described your supposed-to-be-date as tall, dark and Bucky-ish.
A few months from now he'll curl a hand around your wrist and tell you he made his six months ago when you moved in and brought sunshine with you.
You let go of the doorknob and find something new to hold onto.
Bucky's hair is softer than you expected, gentle tufts of dark curls that already feel familiar under your hands.
You grasp it, soft at first, testing. Then harder when you use it to pull his lips down to yours.
Bucky follows you without protest, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes forward to meet your kiss.
Big hands find your hips, curling into them like he's afraid you'll disappear. You do in a way, into the door frame, into his chest, swallowed whole by all things Bucky.
His lips are chapped, rough and bruising as he takes your invitation and runs with it.
His chest bumps into yours, once, then twice, than a third time until you're pressed to the door again.
"Don't wanna stop." He murmurs, not even bothering to pull his lips away from yours.
"So don't." You tell him. One hand trails from his hair, down his neck and over his shoulders until you can clutch his bicep. It's strong, flexing beneath your touch and unflinching as your nails dig into it.
Bucky groans, ragged and throaty as he kisses you again, still trying to talk through it. "Fuck-" He pants, dragging his teeth over your bottom lip. "Won't let you leave if I do."
Despite his words, whatever war he's fighting inside him, his body tells a different story. Hands reach down your back, palming your ass through your dress before grasping the backs of your thighs. There's no instruction to jump, he just stands to his full height and takes you with him.
Your legs scramble around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as you try in vain to bring him even closer.
"Then keep me." You insist. "Please Bucky, keep me."
The door to Bucky's apartment swings open with enough force to rattle its hinges.
He kicks it shut, as if ripping his hands from your body would be too difficult and you have to agree.
It's a mess, teeth clashing, tongues tangled, frantic grasp at any skin you can touch.
Your feet don't touch the ground until his bedroom. Your heels are somewhere by his door, toed off with little patience
Bucky puts you down as gentle as can be, slowly detaching himself from you until he can lean back and take in everything.
He towers over you, imposing and
You falter under his gaze, just for a moment as he rakes his eyes over every inch.
"With a dress like this-" He sucks in a shallow breath, "-Sweetheart I was never going on that date."
Like magnets his touch returns. The backs of his hands trace your curves, brushing over your breasts, and down to your ribs. He lays his palms flat over them, running his thumbs just below the line of your breasts.
"Date?" You gasp, pressing your hands over top of his.
He shakes his head, letting out a low whistle. "Cancelled the second I saw you sitting there."
He finds the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it down slowly as he speaks.
"Before you came over?" You ask, voice softer than you expected.
Bucky nods, sliding his hand below the fabric, resting it over your back and using it to pull you into him.
"Before I got past the hostess stand."
The dress comes off in a flurry, fabric gently lifted over your head only to tossed half-haphazardly on the floor.
The lace set had been chosen with optimism in mind. Nothing too showy, but enough to make you feel pretty even if no one got to appreciate it.
Boy are you glad someone does.
Bucky walks you back to the edge of the bed, but just when you think he's going to push you down, he kneels instead.
He pulls the waist band of your panties between two fingers, thumbing where it rests over your hip.
"I can't believe you were gonna waste this on some guy who didn't have the balls to show up." He sounds borderline angry, jealousy rearing its head just enough to make you shiver.
"Wish I wore something else?" You tease, fingers falling back into his hair, taking your time to card through it.
"Not what I said." Bucky insists. His face presses against you through the fabric, nose pushing in just enough to elicit a squeal.
"Bucky!"
"It's just a good thing that I'm here." He presses on, placing a kiss just below your navel, then a second one an inch lower, progressively traveling down until he landed at the elastic of your panties. "This pretty pussy deserves some one whose gonna worship her."
Something sure settles in your stomach, a weight in that covers your entire soul in the feeling of knowing that for the first time ever. This is right.
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Thank you so much for reading, and again to salty for hosting!
Veni I hope you enjoyed this little slice hero Bucky, he makes my heart swell almost as much as your Steve fic did.
