"table for two." bucky barnes.
summary: with a schedule as busy as yours and a boss as grueling as sam wilson, dating becomes an afterthought; so when the day comes where you actually manage to score a date, you let yourself hope— only for it all to fall apart. the last thing you expect is for your boss’ friend to slip into the seat in front of you and order a whiskey, but it’s certainly not the worst thing to happen to you that night.
pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!military!reader
word count: 4.4k
content contains: fluff and angst!!! probably a little more angst than was needed, saved from a no-show date, coworkers(?) to lovers, tfatws era, reader is a little self conscious and critical of herself, bucky cares for reader probably a little too much, reader is a little tipsy,
dt: for @indigo-jungle! jungle i hope you enjoy this and that my endless nagging actually created something you might enjoy :D i enjoyed writing this and i really hope you enjoy taking bucky home with you. happy reading and happy (late) valentines!!!!
authors note: this is for @salty-tang’s valentine’s day swap collab!! i just wanted to say thank you salty for organising this collab :P it was so well done and everything was so creative and organised and i’m sorry for being late. also went on my first ever date the other day and it was horrible. the concept of writing a failed date after having the worst date of my life. NEVER AGAIN
your disappearance hadnt gone unnoticed in the compound.
you were never one to just vanish without a word. you always told sam or joaquin what you were doing and when you'd be back, even if it was a quick trip to the store or a late night walk when you couldn't sleep. it was habit, an unspoken rule the three of you had agreed on when you'd first decided to work together.
if anything, you never really went anywhere. you usually didn't have much of a reason to leave the base unless it was for a mission, mandatory training, or when sam had pulled you out for 'fresh air and human interaction'.
but the one time it had happened, it had sent your team into a frenzy.
joaquin is the first one to notice anything is off, though it doesn't cause immediate panic. he'd checked your room found and that it was empty, not in a concerning way— just quiet. your bed is made and your boots sits neatly by your desk like you hadn't been in there all day. he checks the gym second, figuring you might've wanted to squeeze in an extra workout before you headed to dinner, but you're not there either.
he checks the hangar, he checks the training deck, and he even calls out your name right outside of the women's bathroom. he calls several times, and it always ends up going to voicemail. when you're not in any of those places and you don't answer, he assumes you're with sam.
joaquin walks down the hall and enters the bases common area. he finds sam standing in the kitchen while something spins in the microwave, the low hum filling the room. across the room, bucky sits on the sofa, staring blankly at the news on the television. it's on, but it's obvious he's not completely focused on it.
joaquin's footsteps against the wood floor catches sam's attention. he turns around just as the microwave beeps, glancing towards joaquin before he turns back and pulls his meal from the machine.
"have you guys seen her?" joaquin crosses his arms against his chest, brows furrowing the slightest bit.
sam glances over his shoulder, "who's her?'
joaquin gives sam a look. "there's only one her that would make me walk all the way down here."
from the sofa, bucky shifts, his head turning slightly towards the conversation at the mention of you. he doesnt say anything, but the faint tightening in his eyes shows he's paying attention.
"her rooms empty, and she's not in the gym. i don't know where else she would be." joaquin continues. "has she messaged you or told you she was leaving the base?"
sam raises a brow, his fork pausing in the midst of his stirring. "she hasn't. you sure you checked everywhere?"
"yeah, and i called." joaquin sighs, "i'm just worried because she's been a little restless lately. thought it was just because of the new york mission, but you know her— she never stresses about missions."
and although this would be a minor inconvenience for most people, the flicker of concern that flares in sam and joaquin is hard to ignore. you, of all people, vanishing without a trace? it's more than a cause for concern.
sam leaves the kitchen and walks over to the sofa where bucky is sitting. joaquin follows behind him as sam pulls his laptop out and opens it, fingers flying across the keyboard as he logs in and types something that bucky doesn't quite understand when he peers over and steals a glance.
"what are you doing?" joaquin asks.
"going through her phone." sam replies.
and for the first time in the conversation, bucky speaks up, his lip curled and his voice flat. "don't you think hacking her phone is an invasion of privacy?"
sam barely gives bucky a glance, eyes focused on pinpointing your exact location. "it's not hacking. i'm just trying to find a location. you sign consent waivers for this kind of stuff when you join."
"security measures." joaquin adds with a small shrug as if it'll help bucky understand and it'll snooze his unease.
there's a small moment of silence as joaquin and bucky watch sam type away at his laptop, the soft clacking of his fingers on the keys mingling with the soft hum of the news anchor on the television.
"found her." sam shimmies his laptop over so that joaquin and bucky can see the screen. "it pinged at some place in the city called the white lotus about ten minutes ago."
joaquin leans in, eyes narrowing and his brows knitting together as he scans the screen. "that's that fancy restaurant on where all of the lawyers and businessmen go to eat overpriced steak and wine. whats she doing there?"
"doesn't matter. something must be up if she left without telling us." sam shuts his screen and places it back onto the coffee table.
joaquin straightens. "you wanna roll out?"
"she's not answering her phone and she's been gone all day." sam points out. "we'll just do a check and see if everything's alright."
maybe it was because he was the only one in the room not looking at this through a tactical lens, but bucky felt as though he already knew exactly what you were doing— fancy resturaunt in the city, leaving without telling anyone, and not answering any calls. it was obvious. you probably could've written it in blood on the living room walls and sam and joaquin still wouldn't be able to tell what you were doing.
bucky shifts in his seat, tossing the remote across the couch and pulling his jacket onto his arms.
"i'll go." he tells them, firm and certain like there's no other option.
sam and joaquin turn to bucky, confusion written all over their faces. bucky never usually wants to get up, let alone leave the base, and now he's offering to go and find you in the middle of the city?
"you'll go?" sam echoes, suspicion tight in his voice. "you guys barely
"there's a reason why someone who tells you guys everything didnt tell you she was going out tonight. the last thing she needs is one of you complaine in her ear about her leaving without telling you— so i'll go." he says evenly, shrugging once. "needed a drink anyways."
sam watches bucky for a long moment, weighting the options in his head. on one hand, he trusts bucky and knows he wouldn't ruin things. on the other, the two of you don't really talk outside of work, and he couldn't possibly imagine what bucky would say that could bring you back.
but he gives in. he exhales. "fine. go."
bucky gives sam a short nod, already turning towards the door.
the drive to the city is quiet. bucky doesnt turn on the radio, nor does he reach for his phone. the only sound in the car is the rumble of the engine and the faint rush of wind funnelling in through the barely cracked window. traffic thickens the closer he gets to the city, headlights stretching ahead of him in long red lines, but he doesn't really notice. his mind isn't on the road as much as it's on you— on the image he's already built in his head.
you're probably sitting in that restaurant all dolled-up and sharing a bottle of red wine with someone just as put together and polished as you are. after all, you deserve someone who'll take you to fancy places and treat you well. you deserve more than that.
he exhales slightly, jaw twitching as he physically shakes the image out of his head. it's none of his business. he pulls out of the traffic and into a parking garage, paying the fee and stepping out into the cold.
the walk is fine. its not too far, but the weather and the foot traffic makes it feel like it takes hours. the city feels different at night, a different kind of bustling compared to the mornings. his feet scuff against the pavement as he dodges people and the breeze tussles his hair as he walks.
the white lotus isn't hard to find at all. it stands out immediately, a large building with windows for walls and warm lights that stand out against the grey of the city. golden lettering is etched neatly across the glass, and well dressed customers walk in and out like it's the finest establishment in the country.
bucky weaves in between cars and crosses the street, his hands stuffed in his pockets. he slows just enough to glance through the windows. he ignores the judgmental looks from a couple dining by the glass, his eyes narrowed as he focuses— and then he sees you.
you're sitting in the back corner, candlelight flickering against your tired face. the candle is already burned halfway down, and the bottle of wine you'd ordered is surely nearly empty. your finger traces the rim of your wine glass, and bucky notices that the table is set for two— two glasses, two menus, two plates— but you're totally and utterly alone.
theres no laughter drifting across the table, no delicious meals sitting on your plate, and certainly no polished date sitting across from you. its just you.
bucky watches as the bell above the door rings and a couple walks in. your head turns, hope flickering across your face until your shoulders drop once you realise it isn't who you'd been waiting for. you look down quickly after that like you don't want anyone to notice.
something in his chest sinks.
he'd expected to see you happy. to see you smiling at someone else like they'd hung the stars and the moon. to see that small shine in your eyes as they tell you a joke. he thought he'd see you with someone else who was better suited to your world than he could ever be, and guilt twists low in his stomach.
but instead, you're alone, and you have been for a long time.
bucky doesn't let himself linger outside anymore.
he pushes the door open, the small bell chiming overhead. the warmth of the restaurant swallows him whole, light piano music and cutlery against ceramic wrapping around him immediately, but the only thing he can focus on is you.
you dont look over anymore, probably tired of waiting, eyes set on the maroon liquid in your glass as you swirl it around and bring it to your mouth before taking a long sip.
a waiter dressed in a clean uniform steps forwards with a practiced smile. "good evening, sir. do you have a reservation?"
bucky shifts his weight. he doesn't, but you sure do.
he nods towards you, _____. "my date's already here."
the waiter follows bucky's gaze before he spots you in the back. recognition crossed his face and a sympathetic smile grows on his face.
"oh, the lady in the corner." he says gently, almost like you might hear him. "she's been waiting an awful long time for you, sir."
and the words land heavier than any punch could.
bucky's jaw tightens just slightly, but his expression doesn't change. he nods, "i know."
the waiter gives bucky a tightlipped smile before gesturing towards you and your table. "enjoy your dinner, sir."
bucky steps past him, weaving in between tables with practiced steady strides. a few heads turn— because he doesn't belong there like the other men do— but he ignores them all, his focus set entirely on you.
he stops at the edge of the table.
you don't notice him at first. you're staring down at your glass like the answer is somewhere in your wine, your thoughts clearly miles away. your posture is still composed, but there's a slight looseness to you now, sitting in the quiet haze of someone who's had just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to forget why you're here.
"this seat taken?" he asks, voice low and almost hesitant.
your head snaps up. for a split second, confusion clouds your features. you're sure it would've been your date, but the voice is familiar, something you've heard a million times before. your eyes focus properly, the haze lifting just enough for you to recognise him.
"bucky?"
surprise flickers across your face, quickly followed by something else— embarrassment, maybe. heat crawls up your neck as you blink, but then you curl into yourself like you dont want him to see you like this. something in his chest tightens.
up close, bucky can see you better— the faint smudge of your eyeliner like you'd rubbed at your waterline, the fading of your lipstick from the constant sips of wine, the crease in your foundation from all of the times you'd raised your brows when someone entered the resturaunt in hopeful expectation.
you tried to look perfect for someone who never showed up.
"what are you— what are you doing here?" you blink, still catching up, before your eyes drift towards the empty seat in front of you— the one that's been taunting you all night. you gesture towards it, still a little dazed. "sorry, you can— uh, you can sit down."
bucky doesn't hesitate. he tugs his jacket off of his arms and pulls the chair out just enough to slip in, his broad shoulders filling the area that'd remained empty for hours. the candlelight catches in his hair, the warm glow bathing him in light that softens all of the harsh lines of his face and the soft scars that sit on his skin. he looks so out of place in the restaurant, and yet he's the only thing that makes sense to you.
the waiter approached carefully once bucky's settled in, the same polished smile fixed onto his face. "can i bring you anything else this evening? perhaps you'd like dinner now?"
"no, i'm fine, thank you." you shake your head a little too quickly, jaw shifting as you glance towards bucky and then towards the shameful bottle of wine you'd been drowning your sorrows in. your voice is steady, but bucky can hear the exhaustion in it.
the waiter turns to him. "and for you, sir?"
"just a whiskey, thanks." bucky says without looking away from you. "and i'll take the check too."
"of course." the waiter nods. he gathers the unopened menus from in the table and disappears into the crowd of diners.
silence settles again, softer this time. the resturaunt moves around you— words and laughs are exchanged, a cork from a champagne bottle pops, and expensive perfume and cologne swirls through the air— but your table feels seperate from all of the noise.
your shoulders are drawn in like you're bracing for whatever bucky might throw at you. you're sure he's going to give you some kind of lecture on leaving the base without letting anyone know, because at the end of the day, he's sam's friend, and anyone who stands that close to sam wilson usually shares the same rule book.
you expect the sigh, the disappointed look, and the you should know better than this talk—but it never comes.
bucky doesn't lean back in his chair. he doesn't cross his arms. he doesnt give you that judgmental up-and-down that all of the other diners had given you all evening. he doesn't even look annoyed. he simply watches you, tired eyes scanning every single detail on your face. his metal fingers tap against the tablecloth a few times before stilling like he's trying to come up with something to say.
"how long have you been sitting here?" is what he settles on. the question sits heavy in his mind, and although he thinks he already knows the answer, he wants to hear it from you.
"longer than i'd like to admit." you say with a small smile, although it's anything but happy. your smile falters, your nail tapping at the stem of your glass. "how'd you find me?"
"sam and joaquin were worried about you. something about hacking your phone and finding your location?" he says.
you huff out a small breath through your nose, your hand flat against your forehead. "right, that. i forgot about that."
the waiter arrives with a glass of whiskey and places it in front of bucky with a smile before leaving. bucky takes the glass and swirls it around a few times before bringing it to his mouth.
across from him, you look small.
the sharp confidence you usually carry around the base is gone. your shoulder slope inwards. your makeup— done so carefully hours ago— creases and faded at the edges. your eyes are glossy like you've been fighting back tears all evening.
bucky lowers his glass gently, the base making a dull thud against the table, something heavy settling deep in his chest. he'd seen you bruised and bleeding, but this feels so much worse.
although the candlelight spills onto bucky like heavenly lighting, to you, it's exposing.
"why didnt you let anyone know you were leaving the base?" he asks quietly, like the question might cause you to retreat. "joaquin searched the whole building for you and almost had an aneurysm when he couldn't find you."
guilt rushes cold through your body.
"i know i should've, but..." your lips press together. "i don't know. maybe i was embarrassed.
his brow furrows. "what's there to be embarrassed about?"
you give him a humourless laugh. "everything. i dont go on dates, bucky. i didnt want to hear all of the teasing, or the jokes, or just— any of it. and then if it didn't work out..."
you vaguely gesture at the table you'd been calling home for the past few hours. it almost feels pathetic when you think about it— how you'd been waiting on someone who would never show up.
"i didn't want them to see that." you murmur.
across the resturaunt, another couple is being seated. the man pulls out a chair for a woman in a silk dress, a wide smile on her face as he pushes her in and plants a kiss to her cheek.
the sight makes your stomach twist.
bucky follows your line of sight. he watches the easy act of intimacy for a second before his eyes shift back to you.
"who was it?" he asks softly. "your date, i mean."
you let out a breath that's almost a scoff. "i don't even know. just some guy i met at the grocery store. he asked for my number, we texted for a while, and then he asked me out." you blink. "he had a nine-to-five. he always talked about football and his dog. his life sounded easy. normal."
the way your hands curl into themselves is telling.
"and you wanted that." bucky says.
"i wanted to see if i could have it." you hesitate. "it was a nice feeling knowing that someone wanted to have dinner with me because they liked me and were excited to see me. i'm tired of feeling like i have to bleed for everything good that happens to me."
and then, quieter and fragile in a way that catches bucky off guard, you ask— "why are you really here, bucky?"
his name sounds different when you say it like that. it doesn't roll of your tongue like it usually does when you're teasing him or calling out his name on missions. it almost sounds accusing, like maybe he might be here just to get on sam's good side by looking out for his friend.
bucky's tongue finds the inside of his cheek, metal fingers tapping the side of his glass a few times before wrapping around it entirely.
"i came because i knew what you were doing." he admits. "fancy restaurant, leaving without telling anyone, not answering your phone. didn't take a genius to figure it out."
"and?" you press gently.
"and..." his jaw flexes slightly. "i didn't like the thought of you sitting alone. i didnt like the idea of you waiting, or that if that asshole didn't show up, you'd start thinking you were the problem."
the honesty in his words is quiet, but it digs its way into your heart. warm tears brim at your waterline, and you hope that he can't see it in the dim lighting of this overpriced restaurant and that the candle that sits between you warps the shine in your eyes into something less obvious.
but bucky noticed anyways. he always does.
"some people just don't know what they've got until it's gone, and some people are stupid enough to lose it before they ever really had it." his eyes drag over you then, not in a way that makes you feel exposed, but in a way that makes you feel appreciated. "and you look good. anyone who makes you sit alone for hours when you look like this doesn't deserve to see you."
heat rises up your neck despite the tears that threaten to fall.
you shake your head, "you don't have to say that—"
"i'm not saying it to make you feel better. i'm saying it because it's true." the candlelight catches his eyes, turning then into something softer than you could ever imagine.
a tear slips from your eye and onto your cheek before you can stop it. you laugh quietly, a little embarrassed, swiping at it with the side of your hand and then pressing the tear to your dress.
his hand twitches slightly like he's considering reaching across the table and taking yours in his, wanting to show you that you don't have to hide your sadness. he doesnt, but the impulse is there.
"god, this is pathetic." you murmur. "crying over some guy i barely know."
"it's not." he says, certain and firm. "you showed up and he didn't. that already makes you a better person in my books, because at least you tried."
and the way he says it makes it feel like it's the simplest thing in the world. there's no pity in his expression, nor is there any hesitation, and you're sure he'd defend that statement in a courtroom if he had to.
your throat tightens again as you nod, but it's different this time— warmer.
bucky studies you for a moment longer before his eyes drop to the bottle of wine sitting idly on the table. "how much have you had to drink?"
you glance at the almost empty bottle and then at the barely-there smear of wine in your glass. "not nearly as much as i feel like i need."
the corners of his mouth lift— not quite into a smile, but something just as soft. "yeah, i get that."
you look tired now. you're sluggish, your blinks a little slower, and your posture is a little less guarded now. bucky can't tell if it's because you're sad, if you've just had a bit too much to drink, or if you're finally comfortable enough to let go now that he's here.
it's probably all three.
he lifts his glass to his mouth and throws back whatever whiskey remains in his glass in one smooth motion before setting it back down onto the table. the burn barely registers as it slides down his throat. he shifts towards the edge of his seat, big arms resting on the table as he leans towards you.
"how about we head back to the base, get you settled, and then you can watch however much shitty reality tv you want." he suggests, his voice low. "and if sam or joaquin wanna ask about where you were, then they'll have to go through me."
your brows raise as you blink a few times. you didnt think anyone actually realised you liked watching that stupid stuff. "how do you know i love watching shitty reality tv?"
"i pay attention." he shrugs a shoulder, almost a little embarrassed to admit it. "you pretend like you hate it, but you talk to the screen like they can hear you."
your cheeks warm. "i do not."
"you do." he doubles down with a soft nod, "you sit on the edge of the couch during the eliminations, and you get real mad when they send the wrong person home."
you stare at him. the restaurant swells around you again, the noise rushing in like waves to the shore, and for the first time in a while, the tightness in your chest has nothing to do with the wine or the vacant chair you'd stared at for hours beforehand, but has everything to do with the man sitting in front of you.
bucky shifts in his seat like he knows he's said more than he'd meant to before he reaches for his jacket he'd draped over his chair, pulling it over his arm in one swift motion.
"we should probably get going before they kick us out for not ordering anything with a shit ton of those orange balls on them." he says as he stands up, his chair making an obnoxious squealing noise against the ground that has the both of you stifling laughs.
"you mean caviar?" you grin.
"yeah, sure, whatever its called."
he steps around the table, offering his hand, and you take it, letting him help you up from your chair. your feet are a little unbalanced from the alcohol and the lack of blood flow, but you know that bucky is there to catch you if you ever fell.
"thanks, bucky." you swallow. "i really do appreciate it."
he pauses at that as he steadies you. the humour fades from his expression, replaced by something more earnest.
"you don't have to thank me." he says. "you would've done the same thing for me."
there's no hesitation or doubt in his voice, because you both know that it's true. you would've done it.
and as the two of you step outside into the cold, bucky drapes his jacket over your shoulders. the leather is still warm from his skin, and you sink into it as he pulls you close enough to steal your warmth from you.
that action alone lets you know that this was never really about sam or joaquin, or about following some stupid location protocol, or making sure you made it back to base safely because it was the responsible thing to do— it's because he cares.
so you pull his jacket a little tighter around your arms, breathing in the scent that leaks from the fabric as you let him guide you through the city streets like keeping you close is second nature.
the date might not have ended how you'd thought it might, but this is better than anything you could've hoped for.
i like to think that they didnt pay
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