Warnings: Smut-not very detailed. Dry Humping, Making out. Reader gets Robbed. Panic Attack (reader). Minor injuries.
Summary: You work at a cafe, and the highlight of your day is when your favorite customer—James—stops in. With recent break-ins in your area leaving you terrified, he gives you his phone number in case of emergencies, and one night, in a panic, you call him. You didn't know that the man you served coffee to every day would come to your rescue as the Winter Soldier.
Word Count: 4629
Notes: I could be convinced to write a part 2, let me know if that’s something you’d like!
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The café was quiet for the first time that day. It was a Friday, and they had quite the track record for being insanely busy. Not to mention, the holidays were just around the corner. Christmas shoppers had been flooding through the door all day with flushed cheeks and so many shopping bags over their arms that they were hitting door frames and tables. The sun was just teetering on the horizon as the chilly December air nipped at the tree branches on your street. You had about an hour before you had to close up shop, so you began your list of chores to tidy the café. You emptied the coffee grounds, changed all the garbage bins, wiped down all surfaces, and made sure that everything was restocked and ready to go before the morning shift.
The jingle of the door made you internally groan. There was nothing worse than a customer coming in at the last minute, especially when you had started emptying the display case, storing away the pastries for the morning. You quickly composed yourself and turned on your customer service persona.
“Hi! What can I get started for you?” you asked before your eyes even fell on the individual in front of you.
“Sorry I’m so late, Doll. I got caught up at work.”
You recognized the man instantly as your favorite customer, James. He usually came in around noon, his order the same every time: a black coffee and a plum tart, slightly heated.
“James!” you said, discarding the fakeness in your voice and flashing him a wide grin. “I thought you had forgotten to tell me you were on a business trip.”
“Ah, no,” he said, smiling and running a gloved hand through his hair. “I had to catch up on a bunch of paperwork, and I lost track of the time, but I wanted to see you before close.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” your skin ran hot. “Catch me up. How was your day?”
“Long and boring, but better now.” He flashed you his signature grin, but his eyes held a look of exhaustion that told you he had probably forgotten to eat today. You poured a coffee into a paper cup and slid it across the counter to him.
“They work you too hard,” you said as he slipped the coffee from your grasp. “Sit, let me make you something to eat, on the house.”
“You’re too good to me, Sweetheart.”
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You remembered the first time he came in. He looked like he had just pulled an all-nighter. It wasn't a particularly busy day, so there was no line at your counter. You took in his blue eyes and disheveled hair, and you felt a little flustered. Cheeks tinged pink, you asked,
“What can I get started for you today?”
He hesitated, just looking at you as if he looked out of place or expected you to say something else. When you didn't, he spoke.
“Uh, could I get a coffee, please?” he asked, his voice low as if he didn't want anyone else in the café to hear him.
“Sure thing!” you said, adding a bit more sweetness to your voice. “Can I get a name for the order?” With the lack of customers, you probably didn’t need to get his name for the order, but your own curiosity got the better of you.
He froze, and his eyes widened. You noticed how his tensed shoulders eased slightly as he let out a breath.
“It’s James,” he said, a soft smile toying at his lips. He pulled out his card and paid for the drink.
“Alright, James, hang tight. I’ll get that started for you.” You began filling a paper cup with the house drip. “Are you from around here or just passing by? I don't think I've seen you in here before.”
“I, uh, just got promoted at work. I moved to the head office. But I am originally from here,” he said, cringing over his words.
“Well, congrats on the promotion!” you smiled. You tightened the lid on the cup, marking his name on it with a Sharpie.
“Thanks,” he said, sheepishly. “It’s... long hours.”
You bent down to the display case and picked a plum tart, gently placing it in a wax paper bag, writing on it with your Sharpie as well. You slid the coffee and bag across the counter to him. He looked at the little white bag, confused.
“A little ‘pick-me-up,’” you smiled, feeling your heart flutter a little as the leather of his gloves grazed your fingers. “I hope to see you around.”
He flashed you a wide smile. “Thanks, uh?”
“It’s Y/N,” you said, feeling a little flustered.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
His eyes scanned you for a quick moment as if he were committing you to memory. A small smile ghosted his lips as he left the café. Glancing down at his coffee, he noticed beautiful handwriting spelling his name like artwork across the lid. And on the paper bag, you wrote a simple “Congrats” with a happy face. He stopped in every day after that, completely hooked on you.
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His soft voice brought you out of the memory as your hands worked on autopilot, making up a sandwich. “You have to stop giving food away; who am I going to get my coffee from if they fire you?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.
“Oh, shush. The owners will never miss it, and besides, you’d find another barista in seconds. This is New York; it's practically coffee paradise.”
You wrapped the sandwich in a bag and grabbed your trusty Sharpie, writing a little message on the bag and finishing it with your signature smiley face. You heard the door to the café slam open. You let out a startled scream and ducked behind the counter. James turned on a dime to the door, all his senses zeroing in, ready to attack. Instantly, he relaxed and headed to the door to close it.
“It’s okay, Doll. The wind must have caught it,” he said as he made his way over to where you were hiding. You slowly rose from your crouched position and peeked at the door. Sure enough, you and James were the only ones in the café, a trace of the heavy winter air lingering.
“Sorry, I'm just a little on edge these days. The flower shop and the bakery next door have been broken into this week alone. I guess I'm just keyed up,” you said, completely embarrassed by your sudden outburst. His eyes softened as they found your terrified ones.
“Hey, don't apologize,” he said, concern lacing his features. “Would you like me to stay until you close?” You shook your head.
“No, no, it's okay. I couldn't ask you to do that. I'll be fine.” You offered him a genuine smile, touched by his offer.
“Well, here,” he said, grabbing your marker and a napkin from the counter, “if you ever need backup, this is my number. You can call me any time, and I'll be here. I will be in Germany this weekend, but call me anyway; I know a few people who will make sure you’re safe.”
Your heart swelled at the gesture. You took the napkin he handed you and inspected the digits.
“Thanks, James, really. I’d just hate to see you get hurt, though.”
He laughed, a disbelieving but yet charmed laugh.
“I promise you, I can handle a few burglars,” he looked at you earnestly. “But seriously, if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call me. I’ll be there. I’d even tell the pilot to turn the plane around so that I can make sure you’re alright.”
You practically melted into a puddle on the floor. You pocketed his number in your apron and thanked him again. And with that, he left.
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Your weekend went by faster than you'd like. You spent the free time you had catching up on laundry and cleaning your apartment, and before you knew it, you were back behind the counter at the café. Another shop had been broken into over the weekend, this time directly across the road from your work. You tried to push the fear out of your mind by throwing yourself into your work. It was half past noon when you looked up from the counter to meet those familiar blue eyes.
“Germany looks good on you,” you said, taking in his new stubble and black leather jacket. He chuckled, looking down sheepishly.
“God, I missed you,” he said as you worked to get his order together, completely flustered. “Do you have a minute?”
You checked the time. “Yeah, actually, I’m just about to head on break.”
You quickly made yourself something to eat and slipped into a booth with James across from you.
“There’s something I wanted to tell you,” he said, fidgeting with his gloves. He had a look of worry painted across his face.
“What is it?” you asked softly. You could see that what he was about to say was hard for him to talk about.
“Do you remember about a year ago when the city was taken over by the void?” he said slowly, gauging your reaction.
“Yeah, I don't think I could forget that anytime soon,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “I was stuck in this trauma loop thing, and then something about the new Avengers stopped it, but now one of them was the one who caused it? It’s kind of confusing; I don't really watch the news.”
“Do you remember anything about the new Avengers?” he asked, looking at you for any sign of recognition.
“Uh, just what I’ve heard from customers here. They have a couple of super soldiers and an ex-Black Widow? I think the Black Widow is Natasha Romanoff’s sister, and one of the super soldiers is the Winter Soldier. Why the sudden interest?” James was looking at you intensely now, ignoring your question.
“You know who the Winter Soldier is?”
“Well, yeah, kind of. I mean, I know his story, but I don't keep tabs on the guy.” You looked at him closely, really closely. He radiated familiarity, but you shoved that thought to the back of your mind.
“So, you're familiar with his past?” he said gingerly.
“Yeah, James, what ar—” “Y/N, can you help me with the line?” your coworker hollered over to you. You gave James an apologetic look and told him to stay put while you helped tackle the line of customers at the counter.
Americano after espresso after cappuccino later, you glanced back to the booth where you and James had sat. The table had been cleared, and all trace of him was gone.
You thought about him all day. The conversation playing over and over in your head. Why did he have a sudden interest in the Avengers, and why was he trying to pull you out from under the rock you tucked yourself away in? In between thoughts of confusion lived the words he first spoke to you that morning: “God, I missed you.” That alone was enough to make you giggle like a schoolgirl all afternoon. You decided that you were going to make a point tomorrow to outright ask him what he needed to tell you and apologize for your coworker whisking you away.
Soon enough, the rush of people faded away with the last streaks of daylight, and you were closing up shop. You turned your key in the lock of the door to the café and turned on your heel, the bite from the winter air pricking at your cheeks. You were only a few shops down the street when you heard a quiet shuffling from the dark alleyway that separated your café and the flower shop next door. You spared a quick glance and saw two figures emerge from the shadows and walk slowly behind you.
You felt fear bubble up in your throat, but you tried not to panic just yet. You crossed the street quickly, trying to gauge if they were actually following you, and soon enough, they mirrored your actions. You rounded a corner, taking a sharp right, and they did the same. The panic set in full force now. You walked faster, trying to radiate false confidence but failing miserably. You threw your hands in your pockets to try and find anything that you could use as a weapon to defend yourself. That's when you remembered the napkin resting in your apron pocket. You had put James’ number in your phone, but you couldn't part with his messy handwriting scribbled across the napkin. You didn't hesitate; you pulled out your phone and pressed his contact. He answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?” he said sternly into the phone.
“I—uh—this—this is Y/N.” Your voice came out broken. His tone immediately softened.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.
“I—I didn't know who else to call. You said to call you if I needed help. I'm being followed, and I’m really scared,” you said rushed, tears hot on your face despite the cold night air.
“Where are you?” he asked quickly, and you could hear shuffling on his end of the line.
“I’m just a couple of shops down from the café, around the corner by the bank,” you whispered, praying that someone, anyone would turn the corner and help you.
“Y/N, I'm going to need you to stay on the line with me until I get to you.”
“O-okay, I’ll try,” you stammered, glancing back. They were beginning to gain on you, and you noticed an extra figure join them. “There’s another one.”
You had never felt so panicked in your life. The white-hot fear enveloped your body, and you felt the blood rush from your face. Your mind began thinking of all the possibilities that could happen if they caught up to you.
“Just keep talking to me, Doll,” he said as you heard another noise. Was that metal? You thought to yourself. “How was work?”
“It-it was f-fine. I'm sorry I got pulled a-away from you,” you said as you once again quickened your pace. The men behind you followed suit. Another loud clang came from James’ end of the phone.
“Don’t apologize. I panicked, Doll; I shouldn't have left.” You heard the sound of wind rushing through the phone.
You were just about to respond when you felt a hand grip your wrist, causing you to drop your phone. You screamed as the other two men swarmed you and dragged you into an adjacent alleyway. James screamed your name into the phone, but he was met with sickening silence.
You kicked, scratched, and fought back as hard as you could, but eventually, two of the men held you back as the third one approached you.
“You're a feisty one,” he spoke. His voice was slimy and smelled like cigarette smoke. “You’re going to cooperate now, though, and you’re going to give us everything of value, and then we will THINK about letting you go—” The man was cut off. A metal arm grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him to the ground with so much force you were surprised the asphalt didn't crack. The men released you to help fight off the assailant. You flattened yourself against the wall, trying to stay out of the way of the fight. You may not have been up to date with the most recent news, but you knew that there was only one person with that kind of metal arm, but you couldn't piece together why he would be here and helping you.
That’s when you saw his face. Those familiar blue eyes that always found yours with kindness and admiration were now replaced with snow and sleet. James stood before you as the Winter Soldier. He grabbed one of the men by the throat and threw him against the concrete wall. He fell to the ground with a thud. The other man, realizing who he was, threw his hands up.
“Hey man, I didn’t know she was your girl,” the guy tried to reason, but James stared at him as if his gaze could turn him to stone.
“It doesn't matter who she is,” he said, slowly advancing toward the guy. The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a knife. James laughed.
“You’re going to need more than a knife to fight me off, pal.” He grabbed the man’s hand that held the knife and broke it. Metal crushing bone echoed off the alley walls. He screamed and dropped to his knees as James picked the knife up and pocketed it.
Scrambling, the three attackers bolted toward the mouth of the alley. Your labored breathing brought his attention back, and he was on you in an instant.
“Are you hurt, Doll? I’m so sorry.” His eyes scanned you rapidly. You had a cut on your lip and a scrape on your cheek, but otherwise, you had no major injuries. You slid down the wall your back was resting against, and James knelt down beside you. The weight of what just happened set in, and you began hyperventilating.
“You’re having a panic attack,” he said gently. His flesh hand grabbed yours, and he placed it on his chest. “Just breathe with me.”
Tears and choked sobs wracked your body as you tried your best to follow his motions. Eventually, you were able to calm down enough to speak.
“T-thank you,” you whispered, your voice raw and grating. “For saving me.” His heart clenched at how broken you sounded.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said, still holding your hand. “It took every bit of strength I had not to kill those guys as soon as I got my hands on them.”
You made a half-hearted attempt at a joke. “I don’t think the higher-ups would like to hear that their lead Avenger killed three men in an alleyway.”
His eyes found yours, and a bit of fear swam in them. “You know,” he breathed, brows creasing.
“Metal arm gave it away. The thought also crossed my mind from our conversation earlier.”
“Are you—are you okay with it? I can understand if you don't want me coming around again; I mean, I've done al—” He stammered nervously.
“Of course, I’m okay with it. I know your story, and I know you didn't have a choice. And besides, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if you stopped coming into the café.” You touched his arm reassuringly, and the cold metal was freezing against your fingers. That's when you realized he wasn't wearing a coat. “Oh my God, you must be cold! My apartment isn't far; we should get you warmed up,” you fretted, rising to your feet.
“You just found out that I’m the Winter Soldier, and you’re worried that I’m cold?” He laughed in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. You’re out here because of me.” He shook his head and stepped closer.
“You’re impossible,” he chuckled, looking at you with adoration. “I promise you my only concern is that you’re okay. And besides, I don’t get cold easily.” His fingers brushed your cheeks gently, taking in the sight of your injuries. “We should get you looked after.”
You stayed close to him on your walk back to your apartment. You were practically clinging to him. You told him it was to keep him warm, but he could feel the way you were trembling, even if you tried to hide it.
You unlocked your door and led him into your place, quickly locking the door behind him. You grabbed his hand and led him to your kitchen, motioning for him to have a seat at your island counter. You started rooting around the cupboards.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.
“I’m making coffee,” you stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“What? Doll, you’re hurt; we need to look after your injuries,” he said, standing and making his way over to you.
“I don’t know how to process what just happened, but I do know how to make coffee, so that’s what I’m doing.” You said gently, feeling your wrists stopped by his steady hands.
“I know what happened to you was terrifying, and you’re still in shock, but please, let me help you.” He brought you over to the chair you told him to sit in and guided you down onto it. “Can you tell me where you keep your first aid supplies?”
You hesitated; you weren’t used to someone trying to take care of you. And James looked at you so softly, as if he were afraid you were going to break. You gave in.
“They are under the bathroom sink,” you mumbled, motioning vaguely to your hallway. He was gone and back in an instant, your first aid kit in his hands. He set it on the counter and began rifling through it until he found some alcohol and gauze.
“This is going to sting a little, Doll. I promise I’ll be quick.” You gave him a small nod, and he pressed the cotton to your cheek. You flinched at the pain, and he felt his heart crack. “I know, I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”
When he was satisfied, he moved to your lip. Thankfully for you, he switched to saline as he determined the cut wasn’t as bad. His eyes were trained and focused as he worked. Your cheeks flushed. He was so close, and you could smell the earthy scent of him. He looked up from your lip and caught you staring. You quickly looked away and pretended to be extremely interested in your wall clock all of a sudden. He smirked at you, going back to work.
“When you said you were on business trips, were you actually on missions fighting bad guys?” you asked, trying not to pry, but curiosity was eating you alive. He chuckled at your choice of words.
“Yeah,” he said, giving you a quizzical look. “You really didn’t know who I was until tonight?”
“No, I mean, I kind of assumed you were a pretty important person, but I didn’t know who exactly. I really try to stay away from the news; it just makes me depressed.” You said, causing him to laugh. “And by the way, I’m still calling you James.”
“That’s why I like you; you don’t treat me any differently. You like me for me, not just who people want me to be.” You held onto the meaning of his words, savoring them.
He held your chin in his hand, tilting your head slightly to make sure you had no other injuries.
“I think I can clear you as my patient.” He pulled away, and you already missed him being close to you. He started packing away the medical supplies in your med kit, but you grabbed his arm.
“James,” you said, his blue eyes finding yours. “Thank you for taking the time to help me. I’m sure there are more important things that you’ve got to do.”
“Doll, there is nothing more important to me than you.”
And those were the words that cut the last thread you were so desperately clinging onto. You stood up on your toes, your hand resting on the back of his neck. You were an inch from his face, and you paused for a moment, giving him the freedom to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, you felt his arms grab your hips securely, pulling you closer. You leaned up and connected your lips in a sweet, loving kiss. You both moved slowly, lips mirroring each other's movements, savoring the taste, the feeling. The butterflies in your stomach brushed upon a sensation that you could feel growing by the second. Your hands trailed down his back, tracing along his muscles, committing them to memory like sacred text.
He pulled away slightly and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you to catch on.” You let out a breathless laugh, kissing him again, but this time, you didn’t hold back.
He kissed you harder and hungrier than before. He kissed you for selfish want, and you gave him everything you had. His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you happily obliged. You felt drunk off him; everything about him filled your senses, and you loved it.
He pulled off your mouth, trailing hot-breathed kisses down your jaw and neck. He hit a spot just under your jaw that elicited a lewd moan from your lips. The sound lit something in him, and with one swift movement, he picked you up and placed you on the counter like you weighed nothing. That alone could have made you come undone right then and there. He positioned himself between your thighs, lips catching yours once again in a heated kiss. You arched your back as you snaked your leg around him, begging for him to be closer to you—no, needing him to be closer to you. His fingers rested on your hip just under the hem of your shirt, the cool metal flush against your hot skin sent goosebumps up your spine. His other hand, on your thigh, dangerous and waiting.
He wanted to lay you down and have his way with you right there in your kitchen. He was raised to take a girl out to dinner first, but God, you broke all his restraint with your pretty eyes and infectious kindness. The first day he met you at the café, he knew he was screwed. He tried so damn hard to admire from afar, but he just kept coming back to you. On the days he could see you, he was happier, more chipper, so much so that his team started to notice. Everything about you made him better. He just wished that the events leading up to this moment didn’t happen the way they did. But here you were now, drinking him in like chilled Chardonnay.
Your hand gripped his black crew neck shirt as you breathed him in. Your hips shifting closer to the edge of the table brushed against his, causing a low moan to escape his lips. You could feel how badly he wanted you, and that brought out a dark, mischievous side of you.
You moved again, this time more deliberate, lustful. The contact where you needed him most causing your eyes to flutter in pleasure. He panted hot breath on your skin, and you kept going, moaning his name like a prayer. His breaths became more shallow and frequent. You could tell he was close. You pulled away from him, whispering in his ear.
“The bedroom is down the hall, Soldier.”
He picked you up from the counter and carried you bridal-style down the hall. You couldn’t contain your giggles as he pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, neck, and cheek.
He threw you on your bed as he hovered over you, dog tags dangling in front of your face. You reached up and gently pulled them down, connecting his lips with yours again.
That night, under the chill of the New York skyline, you gave yourself completely to him. In a haze of discarded clothing and soft, begging pants, you let yourself feel him entirely. James didn’t fuck you; he made love to you. He explored you and took note of what you liked, what made you beg for more, what left you breathless, and what made you weak.
You fell asleep next to him, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. That night, you had never felt so safe, so protected, and so loved in the arms of James Bucky Barnes.
Parings: Reader X Bucky Barnes X Platonic!Thunderbolts
Warnings: References to Sex, Swearing, Graphic Gore, Reader is shot, Panic attacks
Notes: As promised here is part 2 :) Click here for Part 1!
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You practically dragged him by his shirt into your apartment, all traces of sleep leaving your eyes as he handed you the flowers. The bouquet was adorned with vibrant pinks, purples, and yellows.
“I didn’t know which flower was your favorite, so I got a few that looked pretty,” he said, smiling. His eyes held a smitten gaze as he watched your smile grow.
“You could have brought me a bouquet of dandelions, and I’d still love them,” you said as you inspected the assortment, your heart fluttering at the old-fashioned gesture. “Thank you, Bucky. Really, you didn’t have to do that.”
You led him through your entryway hallway into the kitchen. Your apartment was small, but every inch of it felt like you. Bucky took in the photos hung on the walls and all your little décor scattered around on shelves and countertops. It sparked something in him that he hadn't felt in a while—a feeling of home. He set the tray of coffee down on your kitchen counter as you searched for a vase to house your flowers. The sun cast beautiful orange streaks throughout the room, catching his frame like a painting fit for the Louvre. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them onto the collar of his shirt.
“I know we’re heading out on a mission later today and I can't spoil you the way I want to, so I thought I’d at least give you something nice to wake up to,” he said, running a hand through his beautifully messy hair.
You made your way across the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his waist.
“Well, this is certainly a good way to wake up; I could get used to this,” you said, resting your head against his chest. “But I could think of a way you could improve.” You felt his arms drape around you, and you couldn’t remember a time you felt this way.
“Yeah? What’s that, pretty girl?”
You stood on your tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “I would have liked to wake up with you beside me, still sore from the night before.”
Bucky’s breath caught in his throat, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. Making him flustered was your new favorite thing. He may be the Winter Soldier, but his experience with women still dated back to the '40s. Maybe that was what you found so alluring and charming about him.
Sure, you’d had a few boyfriends throughout your life, but being a highly trained assassin definitely didn’t make finding love easy. The way Bucky makes you feel is like a supernova to the chest. You had admired him from afar: how he put his team first, the way he fights for what he believes in with everything he has. You even remembered referring to him as “the perfect example of boyfriend material” to Yelena once when you were training. That comment was met with Yelena making a gagging noise.
But now here he was, hugging you tightly in the first rays of sunlight in your kitchen, like it was the most natural thing. And with him, it was. All the nights you spent talking that left you pining for him like a lovesick teenager were behind you.
Fingers tracing your jawline tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes. A lazy smile on his face, he leaned in and kissed you softly. Tender lips moved slowly in sync with yours, drawing out a baited sigh from your mouth. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair and toying with the chain of his dog tags tucked just under his shirt. His hands moved slowly and with intent, resting on your hips, absentmindedly pulling you closer to him, the heat from his body creating a safe haven you leaned into.
“Where were you hiding that, Barnes?” you joked, lips still ghosting his.
“What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”
The morning went by way too fast for your liking. You were sitting together on the sofa, your legs draped over his lap. You always found it easy to talk with Bucky. He listened to every word you said, never interrupting or making you feel ashamed of your thoughts and opinions. The faint sound of the street below harmonized with your conversations—a perfect symphony you never wanted to stop listening to.
Eventually, you pulled away from his grasp with a long sigh. “I suppose I should get myself together for work. I wouldn't want to get ‘a talking to’ from my boss,” you joked, and Bucky groaned.
“Don’t say it like that; it sounds weird.”
“What? You are,” you said pointedly.
“Okay, yeah, maybe,” he said. “But what you are to me far outweighs that. And if I had the choice, both of us would be sitting out of this mission, tucked away here where nobody could find us.”
You internally swooned. “Maybe one day. We’ll retire and be free to just do nothing together.”
“I like the sound of that,” he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss. And with that, you stood up, stretching your muscles, and disappeared down the hall.
The mission was to take place at noon, meeting at the helipad at the Watchtower. You and Bucky walked down the busy street hand in hand, the leather jacket you borrowed the night before hiding his vibranium arm among the hustle and bustle of city folk making their morning commute. You knew Bucky well enough to know he didn’t enjoy having people stare at him like he was going to suddenly turn into the Winter Soldier and kill everyone on sight. Whenever he appeared in public with his arm on display, he seemed more quiet and reserved.
When you got to the Watchtower, you dropped his hand. Bucky gave you a puzzled look.
“It probably wouldn't look great if we just waltzed in, you know, as ‘us,’” you said. “Well, I guess Yelena more than likely knows, but other than that, the team might think I’m just trying to get special treatment.”
“You are getting special treatment, though,” he laughed, and you swatted his chest. “But you should also know that Bob knows.” You looked at him in shock.
“Bob?!”
“Yeah, well, I had to tell someone about how you had taken over my every waking thought, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Walker. Besides, that kid is incredibly intuitive, and he picked up on it first.”
“Okay, so Yelena and Bob—that’s only a strong 40% of the remaining team that knows, excluding us.” You did the math; your odds of keeping this quiet weren't great, you had to admit, but it would be fun to see how long the secret could last.
The elevator ride up was quick, and you genuinely contemplated hitting all the buttons on the door to prolong this quietness with Bucky a little longer. Stealing a quick kiss from you, he looked you in the eyes.
“My place after we get back?” he whispered, his forehead against yours.
“You don't even have to ask.” You quickly kissed him again, but soon enough, the doors opened to the Avengers' common area, and all trace of ‘you and him’ was gone.
You and Bucky walked out casually, like you both just spontaneously arrived at the same time. You really tried to look anywhere other than Yelena’s shit-eating grin, but it found you like a beacon. You gave her a stern look that told her you’d fill her in later.
“Okay, everyone, listen up,” Bucky began with strong authority that made your knees weak. Jesus, this was going to be harder than you thought. “We know what we’re after. Valentina has graciously given us the files pertaining to the mystery disease. Even though she is responsible for creating it, we still have to go in and stop this ragtag group from making it and using it to their advantage.”
You heard Ava mumble under her breath, “I swear we are glorified janitors at this point.” You and Yelena snorted.
Bucky continued, “Since this chemical can compromise your ability to move, think, and operate, everyone with super soldier serum is on the front lines.” Alexei shot up.
“YES! Mr. Soldier, I will not disappoint! I spent years drinking poison to become immune! I visit sick kids in hospitals to make them happy. I have had every disease; this makes me strong!”
Bucky ran a hand down his face. “Right... So John, Alexei, and I will go in first. Ava, Yelena, and Y/N, I need you to secure the perimeter and make sure no one gets in or out. Then you need to plant explosives at these entry points so we can level the lab after we get what we need. Ava, you will take the East side, Yelena, the West, and Y/N, you will take the North.”
You nodded, trusting Bucky’s information and plan of attack. He had been through hell on earth many times before and always had a way of surviving. You trusted that this time wouldn't be any different.
You all bid your goodbyes to Bob and shuffled into the elevator, making your way to the helipad at the top of the tower. There, you found the Quinjet priming the engines, kicking up dust. You entered and found a seat in the cargo hold, strapping yourself in. You hadn't even finished clicking the belt until you felt Yelena plunk down beside you.
“This morning, you entered the common room with Bucky,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Well spotted; you could be a secret agent or something,” you said just loud enough to be heard over the hum of the engine.
Yelena rolled her eyes. “You are seriously doing this? Just tell me! I have been watching you two for MONTHS. I cannot take it any longer; it’s like having the Netflix subscription canceled when you're on the last season of a good show.”
“That’s really sad, and you need to get a life. But yes, we had a few... friendly exchanges. We haven't gone as far as to label it yet, but definitely more than friends.”
“I knew it! You have to tell me everything.”
“I thought you said we were disgusting?”
“I did, but I lied. I thought it would motivate you or something. Like I said, I don't know how to do the whole friend thing, but I am making an effort, and that counts, right?” She said, causing you to roll your eyes. And then, you told her everything.
The jet landed with a jolt, and you mentally thanked yourself for actually strapping in this time. The trip was longer than you expected; the last light from the sun had just sunk below the horizon. Alexei was the first to exit the jet; he practically left a ‘Red Guardian’ shaped hole in the wall. John followed after, securing his bent shield to his arm. Then it was Bucky; he gave you a look as if to say “Don’t die,” which you returned wholeheartedly. Hesitantly, he followed the other super soldiers into the lab.
Yelena, Ava, and you departed immediately after, flanking to your agreed-upon stations. You heard both of them confirm they were in position over your comms after a few minutes. Unfortunately, you were a few hundred feet from your post when you first noticed a group of armed men. You assessed the situation quickly and noted 19 soldiers carrying assault rifles. Your odds weren't great, if you had to admit, but you had definitely dealt with way worse.
Looping around slightly to attack from a different angle, you had to think quickly. Ripping the pin from a smoke grenade, you made your move. The grenade went off, clouding the scene in thick fog. You advanced like a shark on its prey. The first soldier, you took out with a slash to the Achilles tendon. You grabbed his gun, crushing the hilt of it against his nose in a sickening crunch. The second, you shot in the shoulder and knee, sending him to the ground with a shriek. A static-laden voice spoke through your comms.
“Y/N, what’s your status?” You recognized it as Ava.
“Busy,” you said, throwing a knife at another soldier, hitting him in the gut. Taking out the rest one by one was no easy feat. You were bleeding, bruised, and you were pretty sure a couple of your ribs had been broken in the process.
“Y/N, status.” You heard Bucky’s voice ring through the comms, biting back a hint of worry. You were just about to respond when you heard it—a faint shuffle behind you, and then an ear-piercing shot rang out. White-hot pain spread through your shoulder as you stumbled backward. Another shot rang out, and pain in your thigh mirrored your shoulder. Another, in your hip. Another, in your side. You fell to your knees and grabbed a discarded gun one of the soldiers dropped and pulled the trigger on the gunman. You watched the life leave his eyes as he slumped over, a bullet hole dead center in his forehead.
You were heaving in pain, the sensation creating black dots in the corners of your vision. But you had to get the explosives to the coordinates that Bucky had told you. If you were going to die, you at least wanted this shithole blown sky high. Bucky was counting on you.
With the last bit of strength you could muster, you stumbled forward. The explosion site wasn't far—just a few feet—but it felt like miles. Your blood was draining, and your suit was damp with the sticky sensation it brought. Your head was swimming, but somehow you managed to reach the explosion site. You set the explosives up and tried to get as far away as possible. You only managed to get a few feet before exhaustion took over. You fell against a tree, your back sliding all the way down until you were sitting on the ground. Your head was dizzy from the pain or the blood loss, you weren't sure. You heard a voice in your comms again.
“Y/N, come on, I'm going to need a status. We’re almost done here,” Bucky said with urgency.
Bucky. You thought fondly. You promised him that you would come home to him. You’d just hoped it wouldn't be in a body bag. This morning felt so far away. How did you go from being the safest you’ve ever felt to dying against a tree in the middle of nowhere? You’d just hoped that Bucky would be okay, that he would survive this. Your strength was fading fast, but you kept your eyes trained on the North entrance for as long as they let you. The pressure you were applying became lighter as you felt your consciousness slipping away. You held your fingers to your comm.
“4 Gun-sshot wounds... E-explosives... placed...” you mumbled, and you let sleep take over.
Bucky didn't think he had trigger words anymore that would wake the Winter Soldier, but hearing your voice say those words summoned him. Bucky became lethal.
“Where are you?” he yelled into the comm, his voice thick with fear. When he got no response, his blood turned to ice.
“Bucky, go. We will take care of this,” John said, putting vials into an airtight container. That's all Bucky needed to hear. He took off in a sprint down the dimly lit hallway of the lab. He ran into a soldier and didn't even give him a chance to react. Bucky grabbed the soldier's head and slammed it into the concrete floor with pure vibranium force. He saw the blood spatter like a Jackson Pollock painting. He moved on, navigating the hallways like a labyrinth. Two soldiers stood between him and the exit. Eyes sharp, he looked at them through his brows. One of the soldiers threw a knife, aiming for Bucky’s head. He caught it mid-air, his metal arm whirring with swiftness. With all the strength his metal arm could muster, he threw the knife back at the soldier. It hit him square in the chest with so much force that the blade and the hilt were entirely buried. The other soldier tried to drop his gun, holding his hands up in surrender. Bucky, seeing nothing but images of you hurt or, worse, dying, approached the trembling soldier. Vibranium connecting with flesh, he picked the soldier up by his throat, suspending him in the air. Blood rushed to the soldier's head as Bucky willed the vibranium to crush the man’s windpipe. Bones and cartilage crunched, and the man’s life was taken.
Bucky moved, looping to the North side of the lab where you were to be stationed. The first thing he noticed was the scattered bodies of the soldiers you dropped—19 total. If he wasn't scared out of his mind, he would have stopped to admire your work. Bucky's eyes surveyed the scene with assassin-level precision. 18 of the 19 were alive, just disabled. The 19th was dead, a gunshot wound to the head. The corpse still holding a rifle.
He knew you couldn't be far from the scene; his mind raced with all the possibilities that could have happened in the time it took him to get to you. With all his strength, he pushed it to the back of his mind and focused. He spotted blood spread generously over the ferns, leading into the forest. Instantly, he was moving. The blood-spattered trail made his heart seize. He couldn't lose you. Not when he just got you. Not when he hadn't even taken you out on a date yet. Not when he never got to tell you that he loved you.
He found you slumped over yourself, completely and utterly broken. The scream that ripped through him was raw and guttural. He was at your side in seconds.
“No! No, don't you do this to me! Wake up, come on!” he rushed out frantically. His sobs were coming out broken and uneven. He couldn’t breathe. With shaking hands, he applied pressure to your wounds. He spoke into the comm.
“We can’t—she’s—someone bring the fucking jet,” he screamed, emotions pouring out.
He had seen thousands of injured comrades in his life, but nothing got to him the way you did. You were his second chance at life, but now you were barely clinging to yours. You were always untouchable; you held a fierce confidence wherever you went. It was one of the things that caught his eye about you. But now here you were, lying in his lap, looking as fragile as glass. He couldn't take it.
“How bad is it, Bucky?” Yelena’s voice came, caked in worry. “Rounding the jet now.”
He didn't lie. “Bad.”
He cried as he gently rocked your unconscious body. Your breathing was coming out in slow, shallow breaths. He whispered into your hair, “I’m sorry; I’m so fucking sorry.” He was in the middle of a panic attack. Sobs and uneven breaths ripped through him uncontrollably. “I love you; please don't leave me, not here, not yet. I am begging you, Y/N, stay alive. Please.”
Soon, the rumble of the jet was audible. He saw the lights of the jet touch down in a nearby clearing. He picked you up in a swift motion and carried your limp body to the jet. Yelena met him at the mouth of the door.
“I called the Tower; the medical team is on standby,” she said quickly. “Jesus, Y/N,” she muttered as the full extent of your wounds was visible to her. “Put her on the table.”
Bucky set you down as if you were fine china. His body was shaking from panic. Yelena wasted no time getting to work, with Ava and John working as her assistants. She barked orders, and they obliged without question. Losing you was not an option for the team, and they knew it. Bucky sank to the floor and watched helplessly as the team worked on you, patching you up the best they could with the supplies they had. Alexei knelt down beside him, patting his shoulder.
“She’s a tough kid,” he said. “I have no doubt she will pull through.”
Bucky didn't say anything. He physically couldn't. How could he have gone from spending a lazy morning with you, curled up on your couch, sharing coffee, to watching you bleed out on a steel makeshift table?
The ride was agonizingly long. Bucky cursed his super soldier hearing. He could hear your heartbeat struggling to keep going. No matter how hard he tried not to listen, it was all he could hear. At some point, John had brought a chair and set it next to you. He motioned for Bucky to take a seat, and even though Bucky and John had had their differences, Bucky was entirely grateful.
Yelena kept you alive, and Bucky was already planning on putting her in his will. She worked like a machine, threading an IV into your veins, changing your dressing, keeping pressure on your wounds. She stepped up when he couldn't, and he would forever be in her debt.
There was a huge jolt, and the jet had landed at the Watchtower. When the door opened, a fleet of medics rushed in. The Avengers made room so they could take you away and work on you. As soon as they came to get you, they were gone, leaving a hollow, dark black hole in Bucky’s chest.
“Come here, big guy,” Yelena said, letting the soldier lean on her for support. Numbly, he made his way inside the tower with her. Your blood was soaked on his tactical gear, leaving his skin feeling sticky and wet. When he reached the common room, Bob was there to meet him. His eyes widened at the sight of all the blood on both Bucky and Yelena.
“She’s going to be okay, Barnes,” Yelena said. “She’s too stubborn to leave you. I’ve watched her pine over you for months,” she said, rubbing his back in an attempt to comfort him.
“Why don't you go shower, and Bob will be on standby and relay any news immediately,” she added. Bob nodded, eager to help his friend.
“I will even come into the shower if I hear anything,” he said, and Yelena threw him a look.
“That is not helpful; do not come into my shower unless you want to be dead.” Her threat was empty, but Bob still looked nervous.
And so that's what Bucky did. He peeled his suit from his body, heavy with blood, and slipped into the warm shower. The water soothed his overused muscles, but did nothing to soothe his mind. He kept seeing the images of you laying broken on the forest floor. You still somehow managed to look ethereal despite being covered in blood and dirt. He stepped out of the shower, going through the motions but not really present. After dressing, he made his way to the elevator. John caught his arm before he stepped in.
“Look, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry this happened. It’s obvious she’s not just a teammate to you. If it were Olivia, I'd shred this whole world apart in search of some sort of justice,” he said, keeping firm eye contact.
Bucky didn't know what to say, so he just nodded appreciatively before stepping in and hitting the button for the Med Bay. He found Yelena crouched outside the door in an oversized tee and a pair of pajama shorts. Her hair was wet from just having freshly showered. She didn't say anything, but Bucky noticed the tear stains on her face. He slid down the wall beside her, sitting in comfortable but fragile silence.
“I hate to say it, but she is my best friend,” Yelena spoke, her lip quivering slightly. “I’m sorry; I tried to stay strong for you, but I am really fucking scared.” She said, hiding her head in her knees. Bucky didn't speak for a moment; he just let her cry. Eventually, he put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m scared too,” he said, his free hand toying with his dog tags.
“You know she talks about you all the time. Even if you guys just started to move past the ‘friends’ stage, she never shuts up about you.”
The tears that were threatening to fall finally spilled over in his eyes. Yelena leaned on his shoulder, and for a moment they just cried together—Yelena for her best friend and Bucky for the love of his life.
It was around 6 AM when a doctor exited the Med Bay. Both Bucky and Yelena were on their feet in an instant.
“She’s stable; we were able to stop the bleeding and give her a few rounds of blood. The bullet in her shoulder and hip hit her joints, so she will have to undergo some pretty serious physical therapy, but other than that, I don't see this impacting her long term,” the doctor said, and you could practically see the relief radiating off of Bucky and Yelena. “She is resting, but please feel free to see her.”
“Go,” Yelena said. “I'll give you guys some space.”
That's all Bucky needed to hear. He navigated the Med Bay like a madman trying to find you, and when he finally did, his world stopped.
You were hooked up to various wires, but the steady beeping of the heart monitor made up for it. He sat down in the chair next to your bed. His hands reached for you, and he laced his fingers through yours.
“You don’t know how bad you scared me, Doll,” he said, his voice wavering. “I never had anything worth protecting, but now I’d spend every day of my life just making sure you’re okay. I have never loved someone the way I love you. Please come back to me.”
“Hell of a confession,” you rasped. Bucky almost fell over. The relief that flooded his body was a tsunami of emotions. He was worried he had just imagined your voice, but then you shifted and winced.
“Oh thank god,” he breathed. “Thank god you’re awake.” Tears spilled over his eyes as he rushed closer to you.
“Yeah, I wish I wasn’t; I’m in so much pain, Buck,” you said, wincing from your words. “But you gotta know, I’ll always come back to you; I love you.” You said, pouring your heart out. You weren’t sure if you were woozy from the pain meds or just that in love with the man that sat before you, but everything came rushing out at once.
“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I want to hear you say it over and over again, but now you need to rest. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”
You shifted to get more comfortable, wincing slightly at the movement. “You promise?”
“I promise, my love.”
————————————-
Two Months Later
The bed dipped slightly as warm lips pressed a kiss to your temple. You opened your eyes, rubbing them from sleep to find Bucky coming home from a late mission. You weren’t medically cleared yet to accompany the team, so you made Bucky promise to wake you as soon as he got back. You even told Yelena to drag him here if she had to, in which she enthusiastically agreed.
Bucky continued to kiss down to your cheek, slowly trailing down your jaw, lingering over that spot you loved.
“You’re home,” you hummed, waking fully from your slumber and trying not to sigh into his kiss. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I missed you,” he said in between kisses. You couldn’t hold it back anymore and let a low moan slip out.
“I’d say you missed me too,” he smirked against your skin.
“You never answered me, my love,” you said, turning over to face him. You took in his appearance through the low light coming from the hallway of your apartment. He had scrapes and bruises, but you couldn’t see any major injuries. You let out a baited breath you didn’t know you were holding. The tension you had this past week while he was away finally snapped.
“Oh thank god,” you whispered. You grabbed his face and crashed your lips onto his. He immediately returned your kiss, rolling on top of you and cupping your face with his metal hand.
“There’s nothing that could keep me from coming back to you,” he said in between kisses.
You giggled. “Hey, come up with your own line!”
He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.
“I mean it,” he said, his nose brushing yours. “I couldn’t have dreamed of anything nicer than what it feels like to love you.”
With his words, your heart swelled. You feverishly kissed him back.
That night, wrapped tightly in his arms, you knew that Bucky Barnes was the best birthday gift you had ever gotten.
Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader is drunk, sexual jokes, swearing
Notes: This is my first fanfic let me know some constructive criticism! Also, please note I struggle with learning disabilities therefore this was grammar checked by the site ‘Goblin Tools’.
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You made it another year. In your line of work, this was more of a milestone than for the average civilian. You knew when you took on the role of a “New Avenger” that it wouldn't be easy, but Christ, what a year.
Checking your outfit diligently in the mirror, you smoothed down the black satin of your dress, which rested dangerously high on your thighs. Tonight, your friends were taking you to a new bar that had opened down the road. You had always wanted to go there, and what better way to celebrate your birthday, right? You tried hard not to mix work with your personal life, so you kept both completely separate. Your friends didn't know about your job as an Avenger, and the team didn't know about your small, rundown apartment and close circle of friends. You made it your personal mission to keep it that way, but a certain super soldier was making it increasingly hard.
Finishing up your makeup and spraying a generous amount of perfume, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to Bucky. You’ve had a crush on him for as long as you’ve known him. If he were here, would he notice the way the black stain hugged your body like a second skin? Would he carefully trace the seam down the side with feather-light fingers? Would his breath become uneven, fanning your neck as he unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor? Hands roaming every inch of exposed skin like a drunken person at a vineyard. Drinking in your touch and savoring the taste.
You felt guilty for even thinking about him in that way. Sure, you’ve had a long history together. Even before the Avengers, wherever you found yourself on a mission, he’d be there too on one of his own. But now, he was technically your superior—the leader of the New Avengers and the head protector of the city. Despite that, you were certain that he might have felt something towards you as well, but you couldn't be sure that he would ever act on it. You weren't oblivious to the way his eyes would linger on you for a bit longer than necessary or the way he used a softer tone of voice reserved just for you. Despite him being in a position of power, there was an immeasurable amount of chemistry between the two of you.
When you first joined the team, he treated you just like everyone else. He was cold and kept to himself most of the time, only ever really speaking when he had information to share. It started one night after a long and rough mission. You decided to crash at the Watchtower considering how exhausted you were. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't rest. The images from the mission haunted you as soon as you closed your eyes. You could hear the frantic screams of nearby civilians and Bucky barking orders through your comms. It was driving you mad. Quietly, you walked to the kitchen. You remembered Yelena had said the best way to occupy your mind was to have a snack. You were certain you could snag a protein bar from somewhere, and maybe the hunt would keep your mind occupied.
Sat at the kitchen counter, focused on an important-looking file; it was Bucky. Your heart caught in your throat seeing him wear a white tank top, his sculpted body visible through the fabric. The glint of his metal arm reflected the light like the sun on water. He looked up from his paperwork, and his eyes fell on you.
“Sorry to disturb you, I was just grabbing a snack,” you said sheepishly, opening random cupboards until you found one with food. You felt his eyes following your every move, as if they were locked on a target.
“Can't sleep?" he said after a moment, voice low and cautious. You sigh.
“No, not really. Yelena said a snack helps her, so I figured I'd give it a shot before I completely lose my mind.” You turned back to the cupboards and suddenly became very aware of your attire: a tight-fitting pair of workout shorts and a black tank top, both borrowed from Yelena. He eyed you behind his stack of mission reports, his gaze trailing over your figure subtly. You could see the hesitation in his stare before he eventually turned back to the papers.
“A cup of tea helps me,” he motioned to a black mug sporting a big silver “A” on the front. “Something my mom used to give me when I was a kid and had a nightmare. Guess the tradition stuck,” he said, his face softening at the mention of his mother.
You were surprised; you didn't think he ever shared anything personal about his life, at least not with you. You felt grateful that he was willing to open up a little. Little did you know that was the wave that broke the dam of silence.
“Well, do you mind if I join you, Barnes?” you asked as you grabbed a mug and a chamomile tea bag from the cupboard.
“Please,” he said, motioning to the empty breakfast bar stool beside him. You set your mug next to his and poured the water in. Sitting down, you toyed with the tea bag hanging from the side of the cup.
“So, you must have had a nightmare too?” you said cautiously, afraid that the sudden dive into a personal topic would scare him off.
“Every night,” he said, his gaze averting from the packet of papers.
You whistled. “Must go through a lot of tea then.”
He laughed. You studied the way his eyes crinkled slightly and the gentle bob of his throat. He looked so much like himself—not a trained assassin or the leader of the New Avengers, but just Bucky. Just a man whom you were rapidly developing a crush on.
He looked at you, his eyes carrying a lighter emotion. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.
“There’s not really much to say. Just the typical stuff: loss, destruction. Usually, when I wake up, I can talk myself out of the doom spiral, but after today's mission, it was almost impossible. I just keep thinking, what if I was faster, or what if I went left when I went right? It's all just a little too loud this time.” You rubbed your eyes from exhaustion.
Bucky dropped the packet onto the table with a small thud. Hesitantly, he placed his flesh hand over yours. You looked into his cold blue eyes.
“You can always ask yourself the ‘what if’ questions. But dwelling on what you could have done differently will destroy you. Believe me; I've lived it. We do what we can on a mission, but there will always be some that don't go the way we plan.” He paused, as if he were holding back. “We wouldn’t have made it as far as we did today without you.”
You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, and you were certain he could see it, too. You squeezed his hand with trembling fingers.
“I guess you did learn a thing or two from those speechwriters back in Congress,” you laughed. “But seriously, thank you; I needed to hear that.” You offered him a gentle smile, which he returned, his thumb grazing over the back of your hand as he pulled away.
Every time since that night, whenever you both found yourselves at the tower, you shared a cup of tea, talking about everything under the sun: your fears, hopes, dreams, and aspirations. It was what you looked forward to the most when you were at the Watchtower. You even caught yourself spending more time there than at your apartment a few blocks over. After a few of these exchanges, you both began texting. At first, it was just simple messages, usually letting the other know if they would be around the tower after hours, but somewhere along the line, his name became the first thing you saw on your phone in the mornings. Whenever you were apart, you found yourself smiling at your phone. You grew fond of the way he wrote text messages like little letters, always signing his name at the end of each one.
Your friends became suspicious. They noticed how your schedule became more packed with “work events” and how you were giddy whenever the contact “Sgt. Barnes” popped up on your phone. They asked you about this mystery man on multiple occasions, but all you told them was, “he's just a guy from work.” You didn't know how they would react to your mystery man being the former Winter Soldier, and you were positive Bucky did not want a million questions thrown at him by your friends.
So, though it was your birthday and you picked out your dress with Bucky in mind, you didn't tell him it was your birthday. You were determined to keep work and life separate. Still, you couldn't help but wish he would be there tonight to celebrate your birthday with you. You let your mind daydream about him, wondering how he would wake you up on your birthday, if he would bring you breakfast in bed, or take you to the café down the street. Would he take you out on a special date or keep you all to himself behind closed doors? Would he give you a gift of jewelry or the gift of intimacy so pure and full of love it was next to worship?
With a sigh, you tugged on your boots, slung your purse over your shoulder, and left your apartment. The walk to the bar was pretty uneventful. Though your outfit was quite relieving, you weren't scared of walking at night alone. You had killed enough assassins and “bad guys” to know some random guy off the street wouldn’t be successful at harming you. If anything, they should be afraid of you walking the streets of New York. With the sound of loud bass booming in a crescendo, you walked into the bar and were mauled by your friends.
The night was a blur. You weren't sure how many shots deep you were, but God, were you ever drunk. You spent the night dancing and singing god-awful karaoke with your friends, dancing on tables with both hands occupied by random cocktails your friends kept shoving into your hands. The music was so loud you almost missed the alarm on your phone.
Setting the cocktails down, you grabbed your phone from your clutch. Your eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the text on your screen, widened in horror.
EMERGENCY DEBRIEF ALL ATTENDANCE REQUIRED
Shit. In a drunken haze, you shoved your phone back into your bag, searching for your friends. You gave them some half-hearted excuse about how you had to go and called an Uber to take you to the tower. You bid your goodbyes and stumbled into your ride. The driver gave you a funny look when you slurred out that you wanted to go to the Avengers Watchtower, but he obliged. Almost falling out of the car, you made your way to your second home.
The elevator opening startled you from almost drifting off. Before you, Yelena was grabbing a cup of coffee through half-closed eyes.
“So, you were summoned—Holy, I think you should wear that all the time.” Yelena wolf-whistled as you did a slight twirl, tripping at the end.
“S’special dress for someone special,” you slurred happily. Yelena raised her brow.
“Have you been drinking, little one?” she asked as you frowned at the nickname.
“S’hearsay, your honor, innocent until proven guilty.”
Yelena was quick to pick up on your crush on Bucky. She always noticed the small things, like the stolen glances and touches that lingered just a bit longer than normal. You remembered the day she cornered you in the training room about it. You were stretching, waking your muscles up before you were about to take out your emotions on a poor punching bag when you heard her voice in the shadows.
“How long did you think you could keep your little crush from me?”
“Jesus fuck, Yelena!” you yelled as the blonde emerged from the darkened corner of the room. “Are you trying to kill me? You can just ask me, you know; you don't have to wait in the shadows like a creep!” You yelled, and she looked sheepish.
“I’m sorry; I don't really know how to do the friend thing. I’m kind of working on it, but the question still stands.” Now it was your turn to play into the interrogation.
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” you said, feigning aloofness.
“No, don’t even try with me, Y/N. I've seen it all: the touching, the smiling at your phone, the little heart eyes. All you need is a naked baby to shoot you in the heart with an arrow. It’s disgusting, really. Why you want to date a super soldier is beyond me, but I’ve made it my mission to set you two up because I cannot sit and watch this puppy dog love anymore.” She said, amping up the dramatics.
“I could care less if Bucky is a super soldier, and I do not look at him with heart eyes!” you yelled, your cheeks turning an impossible shade of red. “I just find him…interesting.”
“You did not just say that you find him interesting,” Yelena rolled her eyes. “You look at him like he hung the moon. And not to mention the way he looks at you; he gets all soft looking and hangs onto every word you say like it’s gospel.”
You smiled softly. “Does he really?”
“Oh my God, yes! You are impossible. You have to do something about it. Tell him. Make him tell you; I don't really care, but you two need to get together so that I don't have to keep watching this,” Yelena said, pointing her finger at you.
“I can't tell him! Are you insane? He’s technically our boss, and I’d have to be absolutely hammered in order to work up the courage to even get close to confessing anything!” You let out a frustrated sigh. Yelena put her hand on her hip.
“This is not over. I will find a way to make you confess to him or him to you. You guys are my mission,” she said, heading for the door. You ran a frustrated hand through your hair and began training for what turned out to be a long night.
Currently, at the Watchtower, Yelena’s eyes were watching you as if calculating your moves. Realizing something, she grabbed you by your arm.
“Let’s not stand here all day; let’s get you into the briefing room. Come on, you saw the message. It's an emergency or something.”
Guiding you to the briefing room, she gave you a pat on the arm and opened the door. There, you found the rest of the Avengers gathered around the table. Tucked in the corner near the front of the room was Bucky, his hair tousled with frustration and exhaustion. Somehow, even in exhaustion, he still looked like a Greek god. With every ounce of your being, you tried to evade Bucky’s stare, but the pull was too strong. You glanced at him just as his eyes fell over the hem of your dress, lingering on your thighs. Your cheeks heated up, and you turned away as you heard Yelena chuckle under her breath.
“What strip joint did you just walk out of?” John asked, his leg propped up on the vacant chair beside him. He held that same smugness that one day you were going to wipe the floor with. Bucky cleared his throat, his eyes shooting murderous intent at John.
“Wouldn't you like to know?” you said, finishing the sentence with a small hiccup, which made you giggle.
“Jesus Christ, are you drunk?” John stared at you in disbelief.
“S’so what? I’m allowed to drink on my birthday.” You mumbled, pushing his feet off the chair with more force than you intended and sat down.
“You say birthday?!” Alexei boomed across the table. “Birthday, and we don't have cake or music? Why have you kept it to yourself?! We should sing!” His Russian accent was thick. Even in the middle of the night, he still looked excited to be here.
“If anyone starts singing, I will put a bullet in my brain,” you mumbled.
“It’s your birthday? Why didn't you tell me?” Yelena said, swatting your hand.
“S’just another day. My friends from home took me out to this new bar, though; you should have seen it.” You said, smiling at what little you could remember.
Bucky’s gaze pierced your skin like a dagger. It occurred to you that this was likely the first time he had seen you in this state and dressed for the bars. You couldn't tell if he was staring because he was going to fire you or for another reason—a more selfish, primal reason—and God, you hoped it was the latter.
The debrief was important; you would give them that. The details made you sober up a bit more, but you were definitely still tipsy. Mentions of bioterrorism had been whispered from an ex-OXE employee who had been reported by one of their spies. The team formed a quick plan that would need to be fine-tuned tomorrow before you left, which was lucky for you because you would likely forget everything in the morning.
As the meeting was coming to a close, you were jolted out of your sleepy state by Yelena slamming the table and standing up quickly.
“Well, this has been great, really, but I think it's time for all of us to go. Namely John and Alexei; gotta make sure you’re both rested for tomorrow. Sounds like a pretty serious mission, if you ask me.” She grabbed their arms and began dragging them to the door. She called over her shoulder, “Bucky, you should make sure Y/N doesn't eat shit or something.” And with that, she and the rest of the team were gone. You internally groaned. Right, we’re her mission, you thought. You stood up a little too fast, wobbling slightly, and you felt a metal hand grab your wrist, causing you to stumble over your own feet.
“Whoa, easy,” Bucky said as he helped you catch your balance, his flesh and metal hand holding you by the elbows.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have drank so much. In case, you know, you needed me.” You said, doe eyes finding his. His cheeks tinged pink, and he looked down.
“Is it really your birthday?” he asked, as if he were discussing a government secret. You gave him a shy nod. “I wish you would have told me; I would have gotten you something.” You blushed an impossible shade of red.
“S’just another day, and besides, just having you this close is a gift in itself,” you hummed. The soldier froze. Did he hear that right? She’s just drunk, he thought, still he couldn't help but relish in the words. He drank them in like lemonade on a hot day, intoxicated by the sweetness of you.
Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He went rigid, as if he were replaced by a Roman statue, carefully chiseled to perfection.
“No, you’re drunk. This isn’t—”
“Relax, Soldier. Just shut up and dance with me.” Softly, you began to sway side to side, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Bucky laughed softly, ridding his body of the tension. His hands fell perfectly into the dips of your waist. You were sure you looked like a couple of kids sharing their first dance, but you didn't care.
Gaining a bit more confidence, Bucky grabbed one of your hands from his neck; the other stayed grounded at your waist. Still swaying, he pulled you out slowly and carefully spun you so your back was flush against his chest. Melting into the warmth, you sighed, your head falling back against the crook of his neck.
“I don't think I’ve danced like this since the ’40s, surely not with a girl this pretty either,” Bucky whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His words left goosebumps on your skin, and butterflies spread throughout your body. A permanent blush clung to your skin as you sank into his words.
“Keep saying stuff like that, and dancing is not the only thing we’ll be doing.” Bucky coughed, startled by your comment and your liquor-induced boldness. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”
You slipped out of his hold to face him, your noses brushing. You didn't think; you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him.
Bucky froze. On instinct, he kissed you back. His metal hand rested on your upper back, and his flesh one brushed a few pieces of hair from your face. You tilted your head to the side, sighing into the kiss, hungrily nipping at his bottom lip. Gently, you felt his thumb brush over your lip. He broke the kiss, cupping your face.
“We can’t,” he said as if it physically pained him. “You’ve been drinking; it's not right. It’s not how I imagine kissing you.” You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment at the slight rejection.
“I promise you, Bucky, I want this. I’ve just never had the courage to do it sober,” you said, your head falling against his chest at the confession. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as his chin rested on top of your head.
“And you know that I want this too, but not when you may not remember it. Not when you might forget how good I’ll make you feel.”
If he couldn't hear your heartbeat before, he sure as hell could now. Your breath hitched, and you leaned back from his chest, your bodies still flush.
“What’s wrong?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?”
You laughed breathlessly, looking at him through thick eyelashes. “Damn cat.”
“Will you let me make it up to you for missing your birthday?” His hand left your waist to cup your cheek.
“I think we could think of something to get up to,” you flashed him a grin.
You caught a glance at the time on the wall clock behind Bucky. “As much as I hate to say it, I should get going. If we're going to have a mission tomorrow, we will both need rest. After I just kissed you, I'm not willing to lose you to a mistake that could have been prevented by a little sleep,” you mumbled. You didn't want to leave him, but you knew it was for the best.
“You can't get rid of me that easily. Not when you kissed me while wearing a dress that I'm going to see every time I close my eyes,” he mused. “You’re staying at the tower, I hope?”
“Play your cards right, and maybe one day you can help me take it off,” you smirked, catching how his breath hitched over your words. “I’ll probably head home so I can grab a few things for the mission.” You said gently, pulling away from him.
“Then I'll walk you home.”
“I’ll be fine, Bucky, really—I’ve taken down multiple assassins at once,” you said, laughing and swatting his arm. “You need rest too, my dear.”
“I am not letting my girl walk alone in downtown New York, drunk in the middle of the night. I don’t care how many assassins you’ve taken down,” he said, grabbing his leather coat off the back of the discarded meeting chair.
Your knees threatened to give out at his words, the possessiveness behind them sending a blush across your skin.
“Your girl?” you repeated, liking the way the words tasted on your tongue. He smirked, guiding his hand to your lower back.
“Well, I'll submit a formal application once I take you on a proper date,” he said, guiding you through the meeting room doors.
In the elevator, you leaned against Bucky’s shoulder. His hand was securely around your waist, making sure you were upright.
“Mmm, you’re cozy,” you slurred from exhaustion, nuzzling into his left arm. Bucky gazed down at you with a lazy smile across his face.
“I’ll ask Wakanda if they will make you a pillow out of vibranium,” he joked.
The walk back to your apartment was shorter than you wished. In true gentleman fashion, somewhere along the trip, Bucky had slipped his leather jacket across your shoulders, protecting you from the bite of the late-night air. You both talked about the mission you had planned for tomorrow and discussed some strategies that might help it succeed. Before you knew it, you were standing at your apartment door.
“Well, this is my place,” you said, a bit embarrassed by the weather-worn exterior of the building.
“It’s charming,” Bucky said, flashing you a grin. “I always expected you lived around the Watchtower, but I never knew you were this close.”
“Yeah, I generally try to keep my personal life and work life separate. You’re the only one who's been here, apart from my friends.”
“I’m honored,” Bucky said, taking your hands in his.
“You're sure I can't ask you in?” you smiled, tilting your head toward the door. “I could make you a mean cup of tea.”
“As much as I’d love to, I should get going. But when we get back from that mission, I'll take you up on that offer,” Bucky said lowly. He raised your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, sending goosebumps down your body.
“So, see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow, my love.”
The next day, you woke up to the sunlight peeking in from behind your curtains. A headache sat between your eyes like a bullet lodged in your brain. Begrudgingly, you shuffled out of bed and to the medicine cabinet in search of Tylenol. Facing yourself in the mirror, the memories from the night before rushed in like a tidal wave—the bar, the meeting, Bucky—all of it. Heat rose up your body as you hid your face in your palms.
Softly, a knock echoed through your apartment. You cautiously made your way to your front door and slowly turned the knob. The sight that greeted you was nothing short of holy. Bucky Barnes was standing outside your door, wearing a fitted black tee and sunglasses, holding a bouquet of assorted flowers in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other.
Fuck sakes. I never post on here because I don’t want people to see it but holy fuck. I absolutely hate being poor and being asked to do things. I fucking hate capitalism. Just let me go with my friends to a concert in Montreal without having the gnawing guilt that I should have saved my money. But why do we always have to save money? Just so we can be the richest person in the graveyard? My parents never do anything fun!! They just save save save and buy properties. They are always telling me to save my money and don’t spend a cent I don’t have to. Now my partner is telling me to too and they don’t even have a job!!! I work a 9-5, Monday to Friday and I have a hard time buying groceries even. I know lots of rich people who don’t even know they are rich but go to fucking Fiji every year or some shit. I don’t want to spend my life stuck at home being asked to not do anything. I just want to spend the money and go to Montreal with my friends and make some memories.
It’s that dangerous time of night where you start to wonder why you spend your life brown nosing and you wonder what it’s all for.. To be born, work, then die. Life’s a scam I want my money back.
