Do you want the House Tour?
Bucky Barnes (tfaws era) x reader
Summary - You give Bucky Barnes an apartment tour that quickly turns flirty, with mutual attraction building through teasing and innuendos. A shared coincidence about your cats named Alpine adds to the chemistry, hinting that becoming roommates might lead to something more.
Warnings - subtle flirting, Bucky’s bicepts?
Writers notes - no proof read or word count
The first thing you noticed about Bucky Barnes wasn’t the metal arm.
It was everything else.
The way he filled the doorway of your apartment like he didn’t quite belong in a place this soft, this yours. The late afternoon light caught in his hair, His sleeves were pushed up, and yeah, you tried not to stare, but his biceps made that nearly impossible.
“Nice place,” he said, voice low, careful, like he didn’t want to disturb anything.
You leaned casually against the kitchen counter, pretending you weren’t already spiraling. “Thanks. It’s… kind of my whole personality.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, and something in your chest did a backflip.
This was supposed to be simple. A roommate search. A quick tour. Maybe a polite rejection later if it felt weird.
Instead, you were standing here thinking: Oh no.
Because he was walking through your apartment like it mattered. Like every little detail told him something about you.
“Living room’s through here,” you said, leading him in.
As you talked—about rent, about the landlord, about the weird neighbor who only vacuumed at 3 a.m.—your brain kept drifting. His hands brushed the back of your couch, testing the fabric. Big hands. Careful hands. Hands that looked like they knew both how to fight and how to hold something gently.
You swallowed.
He turned, catching you staring.
You looked away too fast. “And, uh—plants. I have a lot of plants.”
“I noticed,” he said, stepping closer to one by the window. “They all real?”
“Yeah. I name them sometimes.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Do I get introduced?”
You smiled, trying to play it cool even though your pulse had completely betrayed you. “That one’s Steve.”
He paused.
“…Of course it is.”
You both laughed, and the tension softened into something warmer, easier. Still, every time he moved, you felt it again—that pull. Like the room tilted slightly in his direction.
You led him down the hall. “Bathroom’s here. It’s small but—functional.”
He nodded, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing. You immediately regretted bringing him into such a narrow space. There was nowhere to look except at him.
Which was a problem.
A big one.
Because now you were noticing everything. The faint lines on his face, like stories he didn’t tell out loud. The way his jaw tightened when he was thinking. The subtle difference between his metal hand and his other one—both equally distracting for completely different reasons.
You cleared your throat. “Bedroom’s the last stop.”
“Lead the way.”
Your spare room was softer than the rest—warm lighting, a little cluttered, unmistakably you. He stepped inside slower this time, like he didn’t want to intrude.
“It’s nice,” he said quietly.
Something about his tone made your chest tighten.
You turned to face him—and that was your mistake.
Because now he was close. Not touching, but close enough that you could feel the space between you like static.
“Be honest,” you said, crossing your arms to give yourself something to do. “Too much?”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly. Too certain.
You blinked. “No?”
“No,” he repeated, softer this time. His eyes flicked around the room again, then back to you. “Feels like someone lives here.”
Your heart did something stupid. Loud. Obvious.
“Well,” you said, attempting a joke to save yourself, “that’s kind of the goal.”
He smiled—small, but real.
And suddenly, the whole situation shifted. It wasn’t just a tour anymore. It felt like the beginning of something you hadn’t planned for.
Like a song you didn’t realize you were already inside of—something soft and flirty, a little bold, a little dangerous, like House Tour by Sabrina Carpenter playing somewhere just out of sight.
“Rent’s reasonable,” he said, though his voice had gone quieter. “If you’re still considering people.”
You tilted your head, studying him now the way he’d been studying your apartment.
“Oh, I’m considering,” you said.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
You stepped a little closer, just enough to make it intentional.
“Question is,” you added, a small smile tugging at your lips, “are you a good roommate, Barnes?”
There was a pause. Just long enough to feel like a held breath.
“I try to be,” he said.
You glanced—briefly, deliberately—at his arms again before meeting his eyes.
“Good,” you murmured. “Because I think you’d fit in here.”
And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t talking about the apartment anymore.
————————————————————————————
“Feel free to look around a bit more,” you said, grabbing your keys off the counter. “I just need to rescue my cat before she decides she lives on the fire escape permanently.”
Bucky Barnes glanced toward the window. “Fire escape?”
“Yeah,” you sighed, already halfway there. “She sunbathes like she pays rent.”
He followed you, slower this time, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting—not just around the apartment, but back to you. Constantly.
You pushed the window open, leaning out slightly. “Alpine!” you called. “Get back in here, you menace.”
Bucky’s voice came from just behind you. “Alpine?”
You turned your head just enough to catch the way his mouth twitched. “What?”
He shrugged. “That’s my cat’s name.”
You blinked. “…You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was that creative,” he said dryly.
You laughed, pulling yourself back inside as a small white cat finally deigned to stroll in like she owned the building. You scooped her up, pressing a quick kiss to her head.
“Well,” you said, holding her up slightly, “meet the other Alpine.”
Bucky stepped closer, reaching out—hesitant at first—until the cat leaned into his hand like she’d already decided she liked him.
“Guess I pass the test,” he murmured.
“Barely,” you teased. “She’s picky.”
“Good to know.” His fingers scratched gently behind the cat’s ears, but his eyes flicked up to yours. “So… am I allowed one too?”
You tilted your head. “A cat?”
“Yeah,” he said, but there was something in his tone—something just a little too deliberate. “Or would that be… too much to handle in this space?”
Your lips curved despite yourself.
“I think I can manage,” you said. “I’ve handled worse.”
His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your mouth, then back up again.
“Have you?” he asked quietly.
You shifted your weight, hugging Alpine a little closer than necessary. “Depends,” you said lightly. “Are we talking pets… or something else?”
That earned you a look. Not surprised—interested.
“Guess that depends on the rules of the apartment,” he said.
“Oh, there are rules,” you replied, setting the cat down and stepping closer to him again. “I just haven’t decided if you qualify yet.”
“Harsh,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth lifted.
“You’ll survive.”
“Not sure about that,” he said, glancing around the room again before settling back on you. “Place like this… could be dangerous.”
You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Dangerous?”
“Yeah.” His voice dipped slightly. “Easy to get comfortable. Hard to leave.”
There it was again—that shift. The air tightening, like the apartment suddenly felt smaller.
You took a step closer without thinking.
“Who says you’d have to leave?”
Silence.
Not awkward. Just… full.
His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it. Or maybe how much you meant it.
“Rent better be worth it,” he said finally, softer now.
You smiled, just a little.
“Oh, I think we could work something out.”
Behind you, Alpine jumped back onto the windowsill, completely uninterested in the tension she’d just left behind.
Bucky glanced past you briefly, then back again.
“Think the cats will get along?” he asked.
You shrugged. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
And somehow, you both knew—you weren’t just talking about the cats anymore.
