Summary: When everyone forgets your birthday, Bucky tries his absolute best to come through for you.
Warnings: fire
Word Count: 2,630
A/N: this was a request for @julianaunknown‘s birthday this past June and, not gonna lie, mine as well (re-uploaded because my tumblr got deleted)
Two weeks until the day
It was the last thing on everyone’s mind. What with tension amongst the team and the ever growing threat in space, there was no room to worry about birth dates. They usually got celebrated out of the roof, which you’ve witnessed countless times before.
No one was ever forgotten. Hell, last year they’d all planned you a cruise.
Rhodey was the most recent to receive a ‘happy birthday’ from the team. His party was played down this year just as everyone else’s. With each birth date of a team member, they were getting less and less focused on.
It was over a month since Rhodey turned forty-nine and no one had even mentioned yours as it neared.
Bucky Barnes, as attentive as one is when they have a crush, wrote your birthday down on his calendar the first time you’d mentioned it. He’d deny it, but he knew your birthday before you had the chance to say it because he’d looked up your file in Tony’s database.
If you’d, for whatever reason, been in his room and saw it before you told him when it was, he figured that might be a little creepy. More than creepy.
The poor man hadn’t even said six whole sentences to you in the year and a half that you’d been there. You’d noticed this, of course, but dismissed it as he isn’t really a conversationalist with anyone but Steve.
You decided he didn’t really care for you, and that was fine. There wasn’t much reason for you and him to interact enough to be friends, but boy was he good looking.
Birthdays were never a big thing for you. You never wanted to have a big party or have a bunch of people celebrate your being another year older. Once when you were younger, it had been a big deal. It inconvenienced a lot of people and you never made a big fuss over it again.
Bucky didn’t know this, nor would he care if he did. He wanted you to be praised. If he could put you on a pedestal, the man wouldn’t hesitate. It was evident that the team had forgotten.
The world was winding into danger again and it had slipped their minds. You knew that. He knew that. It was sad all the same.
Almost he’d said something about it to Steve, but held his tongue on second thought. The world ‘selfish’ came to mind. He wanted to be the only one.
He had two weeks to get information out of you. Two weeks and he’d barely spoken to you. It would be suspicious, but he had to try.
Your schedule was something he’d memorized early on so as to make sure he was in the same room with you after you came out of a meeting, or catch you as you return from a jog, and accidentally run into you when you head to the gym.
In a few minutes you’d be strolling into the kitchen to fix a sandwich and he’d take his shot.
You were wearing those blue running shoes he liked most and a purple theme to your workout gear.
“Finally find time to get a run in?” he commented casually, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter.
The suddenness of his voice made you jump, “Oh, yeah, finally.”
Beads of sweat still held on to your forehead. There was no one in the gym today. They were all in the boardroom, contacting the rest of the Avengers. It’d been hectic in the gym the last few days and your usual schedule had been interrupted. They were all going to be on the field soon. You didn’t want to get in their way.
Bucky was a sight for sore eyes. He must’ve been staying out of the way too, because it was rare that he made conversation with you. The loneliness made its way to him as well, you hypothesised.
He cleared his throat, “Mind showing me how to make those sandwiches you like?” Hopefully something small like this wouldn’t make you think too much. He had no idea what to get you for your birthday and it was most definitely not going to be a sandwich; it was a start though.
“Uhm, yeah. Tired of eating fruit snacks?” you giggled a little, attempting to make it more personal instead of two strangers.
The teeth you’d never seen flashed into view, they were perfectly white and you were taken aback by his beauty. Everything from his teeth, to his lips, and the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip.
How have you never noticed that?
Bucky grabbed the avocado from the fridge, “I have no fucking idea what this is, but it must be good if you eat it everyday.”
Once again you couldn’t help but grin. So he was funny? You were so eager to get to know him, having only admired him from afar before. His personality was breaking away the shell he’d created.
Grabbing two knives, you handed him one, and showed him how to cut the vegetable. Next, you did the same with a fresh tomato.
“Bacon?” the surprise in Bucky’s voice made you snort on the soda you’d opened, having to put a hand to your face to maintain composure.
You nodded repeatedly, pointing to the stove for him to turn it on.
“Steve’s gonna be real happy he don’t have to buy me fruit snacks anymore,” Bucky joked, watching for your reaction.
“Aw, now I can tell Wanda they’re no longer off limits.”
He gave you a playfully warning glare and took a bite of his BLT with avocado. It was Bucky approved, “Fuck this is so much better than artificially flavored gummies!”
Reaching for a napkin you added facetiously, “Is there anything else you eat?”
“Chocolate cake, one hundred percent.”
“Me, too!” you agreed, mouthful of bread.
One week until the day
Bucky had managed not to scare you away with all of his questions. He was pretty proud of himself with all the new information he’d gathered. There was a small notebook in his dresser that he used to jot everything down.
You liked those weird sandwiches and chocolate cake. He’d seen you eating chinese takeout late one night. There was also a million empty cans of cola in your trash can.
Just from intuition, Bucky gathered that you took a liking to the color blue and a tv show that you sometimes got immersed in.
“Friday,” he called from his spot in bed.
The A.I. answered almost instantly, “Yes, Sergeant Barnes.”
A sigh fell from his lips, “I’ve told you that it’s okay to call me Bucky.”
“Okay, Bucky. What is it?”
“Is there anything you can tell me about Y/N?” he pushed the pillow off of his head to listen in.
A moment passed before Friday replied, “Well, it is her birthday in a few days.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, “I know, that’s why I’m asking.”
“She spends a lot of her time at night on the roof. You could surprise her up there.”
“Anything else?”
“Mr. Stark might suggest a bottle of champagne.”
Of course he would.
Bucky quickly showered and exited his room to return to the kitchen. There were plenty of ingredients for a cake. He didn’t remember much of what his Ma taught him about cooking, but that’s something Friday could assist him with.
On the other end of the compound, you sat in the window of your room. Work was never completed and there was always more to do.
You were writing letters on the daily to General Ross’s team to no avail. They continued to stand in the stubborn position they’d chosen. Rhodey assisted you with this, handing the wheel over to him when something needed a further push.
Small mission reports also needed revising. When those were taken care of, Agent Hill had you accompany her on the short field missions she partook in.
“Ever do anything else but work?”
Bucky stood in your doorway, sporting a pair of shorts. You’d never seen him in shorts.
“You caught me, Bucky. I’m married to my job,” you halfheartedly laughed, trying your best to alleviate the stress. The truth was you were married to your job, increasing your efforts to ignore your approaching birthday made it easier.
It actually made you rather sad. Even though you weren’t one to hype up your own birthday, no one had actually forgotten it before.
The long haired man still lingered in the doorway, “Let’s go. We have to get you a life Y/N.”
His sarcastic remark worked, pulling you from your concentration, “Says you. I’ve never even seen you leave the compound.”
“I’m more of a go-out-at-night-because-there’s-less-people type of guy.”
“Sure. Whatever you say, Barnes.”
The banter between you two was something you’ve caught yourself playing over again in your head at night. Admiring him from afar was no longer a part of your regular routine, but rather spending time with him.
Bucky wasn’t as shy as you’d mistaken him for. He wasn’t afraid to poke fun at you or make the occasional sexual innuendo. He was actually one of the most laid back people in the compound, especially for an “avenger”.
It was the forever attraction you had to him that made it all the sweeter.
Even if he was just lonely while Steve and the others were busy, he wasn’t reminiscing too much. Bucky didn’t even know when your birthday was, and for that you were glad. His time was genuine.
His time was more than genuine. With everyone off tending to more important business, he’d finally gotten you all to himself. Whatever nerves he’d had about talking to you before had all but vanished.
The day
“Friday, no one can come in the kitchen.”
“Are you making a cake for Y/N’s birthday today?” the A.I. inquired.
Bucky frantically wandered about the kitchen, yanking open drawers in search of the right tools and ingredients.
He paused, looking over the stuff he’d thrown onto the counter, “Do I have everything?”
“You’re missing cake flour and candles.”
Returning to the pantry he hastily grabbed the cake flour from the top shelf, a little too roughly with his metal arm, and made a hole in the side, “Shit.”
The whisk had clattered to the floor as he reached for the duct tape to fix the spilling bag of flour. A thin white layer had covered the kitchen tiles as he rushed around, picking up what had fallen.
“Where are the candles?” he panted.
Friday chuckled, “Check the drawer next to the sink. I think someone put some trick candles in there.”
Sure enough, there was a box of candles in the drawer. They were thrown into the pile of ingredients and forgotten as Friday read out the instructions that Bucky needed to follow. She laughed at his frustration, keeping him calm as she advised him not to crack the eggs midair.
After two hours of Bucky’s making mistakes and having to remake the batter, there was finally a cake in the oven. No one but Bucky could’ve messed up a prepackaged cake mix so badly.
He leaned up against the counter, prematurely popping the bottle of champagne. He was so glad in that moment that his serum allowed him to feel the alcohol unlike his friend. Your tiny, lumpy, stressful chocolate cake definitely called for the champagne.
The oven beeped, alerting Bucky that the cake was ready. If the kitchen got any hotter he was gonna take that cake and eat it himself in the pool.
“You did well, Bucky,” Friday complimented, “care to share?”
“Not on your programming,” Bucky replied, focused on icing his creation, “but thank you, for helping me not fuck this up to surprise her.”
The A.I. responded, “I’m sure Y/N would like it even if you did.”
The super soldier huffed, even his metal arm tiring out from the precision it takes to ice the damn cake. He’d opted to use vanilla icing and found it took many layers to conceal the chocolate underneath.
He didn’t even know if it would taste good.
Finally he’d reached for the candles, confused when reading the package, “Friday you said trick candles earlier. What does that mean?”
“Those candles are really hard to blow out. The flame disappears for a second before igniting again, making it really funny for the person blowing them out.”
“Okay well, I guess I’m done. I’m gonna test these out before I surprise Y/N with it. You can unlock the kitchen doors now,” Bucky mumbled, placing too many candles on the cake.
There were about ten candles ignited on top of the cake, burning and sparkling brightly as Bucky blew air on to them.
Not one candle blew out.
His chest heaved, annoyed that even his super soldier lungs couldn’t best the “trick candles”. He tried once more, slamming his hands onto the counter beside the holder, puffing his cheeks out.
“Friday!” Bucky yelled in panic as the candles’ flames joined. Instead of ten, small, short flames there was one large fire topping the cake.
The lights in the kitchen were dim against the large fire on top of your birthday cake and the room darkened, “Friday the fire detector! Now!”
After what felt like hours, she set off the fire detector. Bucky was pressed into the cabinets, putting as much space possible in between him and the fire.
“Bucky is everything okay?!” he heard your voice from behind the door, knowing you could see the silhouette of a flame from behind the semi transparent door.
“Everything’s fine! Don’t come in! I got it under control!” he shouted, his chest pounding frantically because he’d ruined your birthday cake.
Friday chimed in at the last second, announcing, “I’ve sent out an alert to the compound that there is a fire in the kitchen.” Immediately after the A.I. said that, the emergency sprinklers overhead came on, drenching the kitchen, Bucky, and the dessert he’d put so much effort into.
The fire extinguished and Bucky stood in defeat, his shoulders slumping, watching disappointed as the cake suffered under the water.
You busted through the kitchen door, holding the fire extinguisher you’d scrambled to find. Squeezing its hose, you sprayed the kitchen with the contents of the red can, stopping when you opened your eyes to see no fire.
Bucky stood in front of you, his eyes screwed shut and covered in the white foam. He wiped his face with his shirt and blinked hard a few times.
“Happy Birthday Y/N!” he cheered unenthusiastically, his hair and clothes dripping wet.
The can was discarded on the floor as you looked around the kitchen. There was flour on the floor, eggshells in the sink, an empty bowl of batter, and the wet cake with too many candles in it.
Bucky cleared his throat, spitting out some of the foam you’d sprayed him with, “How’s takeout sound?”
You tried to stifle a laugh, stepping closer to him and helping to clean his face, “Takeout sounds wonderful.”
He looked downwards, embarrassed, and you pressed a small kiss to his cheek. The cake was ruined but in the back of your mind, you knew you’d both be eating it a few hours from now when the water had seeped into it.
Bucky left to go change clothes and run his hair under some water, before joining you in the common area.
“Thank you Bucky, for making me a cake. But, if I may ask, how in the heck did you manage to catch it on fire?” you smiled and playfully elbowed him.
I'm not dead. Not yet anyway. My mod has just been busy with other projects, real life and his struggles with his procrastination tendencies.
He'll TRY to get at least ONE update out before my anniversary next year.
And yeah, the trick candles are gonna be an annual running gag now.
- Typhoon
