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jennygirl2014 · 4 years ago

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Birthday Cake~ Chapter One

Summary: You had good intentions. You really did. It just all went downhill so fast....

Word count: 3233

Warnings: 18+, NSWF, adult themes, swearing, masturbation

You were on your way over to Steve’s apartment, already feeling uneasy about your upcoming visit. There were several reasons why you tried to make good with America’s golden boy, but you just hadn’t been able to get on his good side. Working for Tony Stark, that was one thing, he and Steve butt heads all the time, and that didn’t work well in your favor. Second, you didn’t have the cleanest record. Tony had implemented an intervention program where he found local people who had previous trouble with the law, and he turned their lives around by turning them into technological whizzes. He called it Stark’s Restart Program. The public loved it, and it helped to further fund his many other operations. You got caught robbing houses at age 16, you were a professional even, but when you got the choice between going to juvy, and eventually prison, or entering Stark’s program, you gave up your profession. Were you a technological whizz? Not even close. Technology was not your forte, yet Tony kept you on as a regular employee, thus keeping you out of trouble for many years. No more drugs, no more burglaries, but still lots of partying, because that’s one thing Tony was all about. If it weren’t for him, you didn’t know where you would have been in life.

The third reason was obvious, the age difference. Being in your best years, you were all about fun, and trends and enjoying life. You had that “forever young” mentality, that” you only live once” attitude, you were in your prime and you were going to have fun. Steve, whose age you couldn’t even quite calculate, was the total opposite. You had a few tattoos, lip and nose piercings, and your hair always seemed to change colors. But why not? You worked hard, you played hard, Tony paid you well. You turned your life around. You deserved to have fun. Steve occasionally made comments about your appearance or what you were doing that somewhat rubbed you the wrong way. “What made you want to have purple hair?” “Another tattoo? You know those are permanent.” “Back in my day, we didn’t have to listen to music so loud we could go deaf to enjoy it.” “Women used to dress so…differently.” You were sure he didn’t see eye to eye with your lack of modesty, but that wasn’t going to change. You were civil with each other, but you wouldn’t have ever called him a friend.

Which was a shame…because boy was he one fine looking man. Although his traditional ways sometimes irked you, you could always look past it, as long as you found something good to look at. And there was always something good to look at when it came to Steve. You hated that he had to be such a prude, because his smile would make your temperature rise. Part of you felt rather embarrassed, but you couldn’t deny the way your mind sometimes went to those dark and dirty places. Just the other week he had bent over to pick something up and you ended up intently staring at his ass for at least three whole minutes. But at least knowing that you were not his type kept the daydreaming from getting too out of hand.

But what girl didn’t look at Steve Rogers that way?

“He should be home; you know with his curfew and bedtime and all that.” Tony’s voice carried through the Bluetooth speaker in your car. “Just use the drive I gave you to install the upgrade on his computer. I offered to talk him through it but…well, you know.”

“What’s wrong with his computer?” you ask.

“He says it’s been slow, and he keeps getting pop ups. He spends so much time surfing the web trying to catch up on everything, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a virus on there. Maybe you could check it out. You know, if you can handle that.” He jested.

“Listen, I may not know how to build a circuit board, but I can check for viruses. I learned some things.” You defended yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have.” He continued to tease, “Anyway, in and out, no fuss. Oh, but don’t forget his present.” He reminded you. It was Steve’s birthday, and while Tony had offered a get together, Steve had declined. You looked over at the medium sized box with a ribbon on it sitting in your passenger seat and suddenly thought the worst.

“Tony?” you started.

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t another prank is it?” the last thing you wanted was to be caught up in Tony and Steve’s little rivalry. But Tony didn’t play by Steve’s rules, Steve would go about things diplomatically, while Tony sometimes just tortured the poor guy.

“No! Not at all, don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He sounded honest, and you felt slightly relieved.

“Okay, because, you know he’s already not the fondest of me.”

“Don’t say that. He just doesn’t know how to handle someone like you. I mean, with the piercings, and the hair…” he trailed off. “You know most people wouldn’t hire you with that unique sense of style, but I find it exhilarating.”

“Yes, thank you again for allowing me to be myself.” You must have said it a million times to him over the years. And then you wondered why he was making himself out to be the world’s greatest boss again, aside from the usual ego trip.

“Anyway, just check out the computer, give him the present and call it a night.” Tony repeated himself.

Yes, that was the plan, but it was only part of your particular plan. Steve had generously lent you his jacket the previous week, which was extremely flattering, and you intended on returning it. Of course, you had held onto it a few extra days, just because. You may have even worn it once while sitting on the couch, eating ice cream and watching a few romantic movies, but nobody had to know. Another thing nobody had to know was that you had purchased a small cake, which was sitting neatly by the present Tony had asked you to deliver. It was nothing fancy, yellow cake with white, red and blue icing, and it simply read “Happy Birthday”, nothing more. It all appeared innocent enough, right? Were you making it obvious that you wanted to be in his good graces? Maybe. But “bold” was your middle name.

You parked on the street in front of his apartment and somehow managed to carry his jacket, the present and the cake all in your hands. The little USB drive simply fit in your pocket, no need to fuss with that. Of course, then again, you were there to install a new program on his computer, and if it was just sitting in your pocket, maybe it looked like it wasn’t the main reason for your visit. You started to overthink the entire situation, and decided to carry the drive in your hands as well, just to maintain the right idea. You managed the stairs, which wasn’t easy, especially in those pumps you loved so much. They weren’t easy to walk in, and your toes were starting to hurt in them.

Once you reached his door, you knocked lightly, somehow managing to tap your knuckles on the wooden door without dropping anything. There was nothing. No sound, no stirring, nothing. You knocked again. Still nothing. With a sigh you knelt down and placed everything on the floor and got your phone out of your purse, dialing Tony. It rang four times and he picked up.

“I thought you said you could handle checking for viruses.” Tony didn’t even greet you.

“Um… yeah, I can. Or at least I would, if he were home.” You corrected him.

“He’s not home? That’s odd.” Tony sounded perplexed. “Maybe he went out to some diner for the old timer’s special.”

“So…what now?” you asked your boss what to do.

“Well…” he paused, “You used to sneak into houses, right?” You blinked in disbelief of what he was possibly suggesting. “Hello?” you went silent.

“I’m here. And yeah, I did, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not about to break into Captain America’s apartment.” You sounded astonished just talking about it.

“But you’re not really breaking into anything. You’re not going to break down his door or whatnot. You can just let yourself in, leave the USB drive, and the present, on his counter and let yourself out. He won’t mind.”

“How do you know that?” you weren’t so sure.

“Trust me. He really needs that upgrade and I really want him to get that present today. It is his birthday after all.”

You thought it over, and then huffed. “Fine.”

“That’s a good sport. Thank you much.” And Tony hung up without saying goodbye, in typical Tony fashion.

“Ugh, Tony.” You muttered as you stayed knelt down and drew in a deep breath. You looked around the hallway, over your shoulder on both sides to make sure nobody was watching before standing up.

Your fingers instinctively found the two bobby pins in your hair and you pulled them out. Perhaps it was some of that old habit that hadn’t died out of you yet, but two bobby pins in your hair was the norm. Just in case. You angled them in your hands, just as you remembered, and inserted them into Steve’s lock. You felt ridiculous, but at the same time, kind of daring. It was a momentary rush, just a small reminder of the thrill you used to get. You worked the lock for some time, not having any luck, and just as you were about to give up, you felt the pins insert into that perfect spot. You rotated your wrists and unlocked the door seamlessly. Bingo.

With a small grin you put the bobby pins back in your hair. “Still a badass.” You complimented yourself. You managed to get the armful of goods back into your grasp and stood up with them, shimmying your hips a bit to straighten out your skirt. The air stayed captive in your lungs as you slowly nudged the door open and allowed yourself to step inside to Steve’s apartment, and after taking a step in, you used your heel to close the door behind you.

You were eager to take it all in. You had always wondered what his place was like, and now you were seeing it. Even with the lights off, you could make out all the details around you from where you stood. The old black and white photos of Yankees stadium on the wall, his contemporary style light fixtures, which you were sure came with the apartment. There was a decent sized TV in front of a red couch. But over in the corner sat an old radio and record player, and next to that a blue recliner. It looked worn, and you were sure that he spent most of his time there, looking out the window and reminiscing of older times. It was the typical man’s apartment, no fancy centerpieces on the table, a couple books laying around, nothing special. But the air smelled of him, and you inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of musk, cologne and aftershave. There was a hint of cedarwood in the air that tickled your nose.

Finally, you remembered why you were there, and you took small steps further into the apartment, still looking around. The kitchen was small, and spotless. The carpet was a casual tan. You were tempted to take a quick look into his bathroom to see what soap and shampoo he used. You felt silly, like a little girl who finally got to see how their crush lives at home. But you didn’t belong in there, you had to get in and get out. So, you turned the corner, assuming the hallway led to his bedroom, and you saw the cracked door into the dark room. Only it wasn’t dark, there was a flickering light.

Maybe he was home and had fallen asleep. Maybe that was a second TV he had in his bedroom. You swallowed hard, worried that you would disturb him and wake him up, and make him mad. You shouldn’t have just let yourself in. If you just put the stuff on the counter and ran off, he would still know what you did. What about making it a surprise?

Yeah! That would work!

Just sneak in, catch him off guard but smile wide and say “surprise” as you give him back his jacket and present the tiny cake. And work on his computer. No big deal. So, you took another step closer to the cracked door, seeing the flickering light and holding your breath. It would be okay. He couldn’t stay mad with a present and cake, right? You could play it off, you were clever. Your elbow lightly touched the door and you started to lean in, preparing to ease the door open wider. A smile was already spreading across your lips.

But then it hit your ears, a weird sound. A moan? A groan? A yawn? Maybe he really was asleep. The sound came again, but then something else followed. A woman’s voice. Was there a woman in there? It didn’t sound like there was another person there, it sounded like it came through a speaker. His TV maybe, or his computer. Which you were there to fix. All good, no worries, it would be fine. You pushed the door open further, and then planted both feet it the doorway.

His back was to you, you would catch him off guard. He was sitting at his computer; his bed was against the wall to the right. Okay, don’t yell surprise, just whisper it, you thought. But then you saw it, the little bit of screen shining at you from around his large silhouette. Skin tones, odd. What was it? A movie? And then you saw what looked like a woman’s bare ass, shaking, jiggling, another moan. And his silhouette wasn’t smooth, it was moving. His right arm, shaking. A grunting sound?

He released a breathy moan that made it very apparent what was going on. The woman’s voice on the screen carried louder, that raspy pitch of a woman in the throes of pleasure. You had just walked in on the poor, innocent man pleasuring himself, to an adult movie. Captain America was in front of you, with his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him, and his dick in his hand.

You panicked, bad. That cold sweat kind of panic.

The words that were about to come out of your mouth were instantly sucked back into your lungs and your brain scrambled as you immediately realized you had overstepped your boundaries, big time. You went to shuffle backwards, preparing to dart out of the room, but your back hit the door that had partially closed behind you, knocking you off your balance. Your heel caught something, probably your other foot, and the next thing you knew, you were going down.

You went crashing down on the floor without an ounce of stealth or pride and everything in your arms spilled with you. The commotion of it all startled you, and it definitely startled Steve, who had no idea about your presence until that very moment. He shot out of his chair, standing and spinning around, eyes wide and his member still in hand. His pants dropped to his ankles as he scrambled to cover himself, letting out some sort of sound that could only be described as a half shout half snort sort of thing. You, on the other hand, shamelessly screamed. You held up your right hand in a flash, trying to shield yourself from his view, or rather block the view of what was in his hand from your eyes.

To make matters worse, in your mad dash to get back on your feet, you kicked the present from Tony, tearing off the lid and thus somehow setting free a flurry of glitter that erupted from the contents and covered half of the room in the matter of a mere second, including you where you sat. A mechanical, prerecorded laughing sound started emitting from the box. Was it laughing at you? No. This was no gift. This was a prank. Damn Tony and his lies. The mocking faux laughter continued as Steve gripped whatever contents were on his desk and attempted to cover his bottom half, a mix of papers, a book and a mousepad. By then you were scrambling onto your feet, but not before your hand sunk into the cake, which was now mysteriously missing its box and had been dumped on the floor, and your hand skidded forward, causing you to face plant in a mound of cake and icing.

“Y/N…!” Steve shouted, probably coming to his senses. You swore you heard his voice crack a little.

Somehow, by God’s grace, you had managed to get to your feet, despite your wobbly knees, and being partially blinded by glitter and icing, and you took off in a mad dash down the hall, back to Steve’s front door, leaving a trail of mushy cake and glitter in your blaze. You ripped that door open and pulled it shut behind you, but didn’t waste a moment to make sure the door actually closed, and your heels were click clacking as your sprinted your sorry ass out of his apartment building. Getting down the stairs would have been easier if you had just jumped from the floor you were on down to the landing, because you must have twisted your ankles a half dozen times as you stumbled down to the ground floor. You wondered how you managed not to break your fancy heels, or your ankles, or your neck, in the process of running from your shame. And what were you hearing as your ran? The echoing of your profanities.

“Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh shit, oh shit! Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!” you said it over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer turning into your last words. “Oh my God! Oh God! Oh shit! Oh shit!”

You raced out to your car, limping and trying to frenziedly wipe the icing and glitter from your face, from your shirt, and your skirt, and your knees. You threw yourself into the driver seat and fumbled with your keys, dropping them and tossing them between your hands. “Oh man! Oh shit! Fuck! Fucking keys! Shit! Shit, shit!” your eyes were burning from the icing and glitter, both clouding your vision. You instinctively reached for your half empty water bottle in the cup holder, unscrewed the lid and dumped the water onto your face, trying to rid the burning from your eyes. More profanities and more yelling, and maybe now some tears thrown into the mix.

It all happened so fast! And yet, you felt like it was all in slow motion. You stomped on the gas pedal, aching ankle be damned, and you were out of there.

Nothing would ever compare to the humiliation you were feeling in that moment. You were convinced the shame would kill you, and you were even more upset that it actually wouldn’t.

#chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #captain america fanfiction

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captainsscarlet · 5 years ago

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All of the Stars - Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Hey, it’s ya girl. I wrote this in 5 hours over a discord call with @captainscanadian. I love this so much, it’s definitely the one project I’m most proud of. So enjoy and I promise, I’m not a heartless monster!

Summary: Hey look, it’s a rewrite of Endgame.

Warnings: Angst, tears, death mentions, spoilers for Avengers: Endgame.

Words: 3,674

23 days post Thanos

You were in the kitchen, heavy bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep. Every night, you dreamed of Bucky. There was no escaping it, it was something you had to push through. In your dreams, it jumped from laying in bed and waking up remembering he was gone and dreaming that he was in turmoil somewhere with no one to help him. A cup of coffee sat in front of you, being the only thing that kept you awake. Behind you, Steve had arranged a plate of toast, bacon and eggs, trying to coax you into eating something. These days, mostly you laid in bed with your mp3 player, listening to the playlist you had made for Bucky, filled with songs that reminded him of his life before HYDRA and of you as well.

“C’mon, you gotta eat…Buck wouldn’t wanna see you like this.”

It was the argument they used to get you to get up and try to live nowadays. It wasn’t like they were trying to be hurtful or upset you. But in reality, it did. You didn’t want to think about what Bucky would say right now, or that he would be upset because the truth of the matter was that if he was here, you wouldn’t be like this. You wouldn’t be in an ocean of grief.

These days, you leaned on Thor as much as you could. Most people stayed away, but you and Thor spent every sleepless night on the roof, watching the stars and telling memories about the loved ones who had died. And while Thor blamed himself, you reminded him each time that it wasn’t his fault. That Thanos was the one who killed everyone and not the God of Thunder.

You accepted the plate from Steve and began to pick at the food in front of you, managing to choke down some toast. You were pushing the food around your plate when you saw the light of…something. You looked up at Steve and you both ran outside, seeing a glowing figure…was that a woman? She was holding a ship in her hands and you held your breath. A few moments later, Tony Stark stepped out with Nebula and you let go of the breath you’d been holding, seeing him alive. You hung back while he said something to Steve but had to go back inside when he embraced Pepper.

It stung, and a part of you, some hateful and angry part of you, wished he had died instead of Bucky. It wasn’t kind and it was horrible for you to think that you could be so mean, but it was true. You loved Tony, but you would give him up in a second to have James Barnes back in your arms again. You went and sat back at the counter, pushing the coffee and food away from you and staring into space. The fact was you couldn’t change what had already happened.

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You stood next to the new girl, a woman named Carol, as what was left of the Avengers discussed what had happened in the 23 days since that day. She chuckled slightly at Tony’s banter with Rocket but when Tony started getting upset, you stopped at stood up straighter. When he started yelling at Steve, you lost it and walked between them.

“You think you’re the only person who lost someone, Stark? We all lost someone! All of us! We could point the blame at any one of us. Hell, let’s look at you. If you hadn’t driven Bucky out of the states, if you hadn’t started a god damned war, I would have had time. I could have held him every night. But instead, I get memories of a year ago, when he was on the run. When you tried to kill him. Sure, there are some happy ones, but that is the main memory, Tony. We all are to blame.”

You didn’t stick around to hear his reaction. You went straight to your room and cried. You cried for Thor who lost his brother and his entire planet. You cried for Rocket, who lost his friends, the only family he ever had. You cried for every single person on the compound, including yourself. And it didn’t stop until late into the night, when your tears had run dry and you were too exhausted.

5 Years Later

You slammed your hand over the nightstand next to your bed, trying repeatedly to hit snooze but to no avail. Instead, you had to haul yourself up to do so, and by that time, you were already well awake. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you began your morning routine. Bathroom, clothes, coffee, food, and then off to work. Ever since ‘the snap’ as people were calling it, you’d been working with Steve on his support group. It had helped you through the past 5 years, and even helped you now. You try to keep things light and go with the flow, but somedays, it’s as if all of this happened yesterday and you lay in bed, crying, wrapped up in his clothes and holding the letters he wrote you from Wakanda.

But today was a good day. So you went out the door and walked to the building where the meetings were held. You unlocked the door and set yourself to work. Brewing coffee was saved for last, but you liked to clean before everyone got there. You set up chairs and tried to at least make the room somewhat cheerful. You had put on the stereo to a soft rock station while you worked and then set up your laptop and started answering emails. A lot of grieving people simply emailed instead of coming to meetings, whether they couldn’t leave home or they just wanted to remain anonymous and you and Steve tried to answer as often as you could. It hurt that you couldn’t answer them all, but you liked knowing that you could help soothe some people’s pain. You heard the door open and looked up from your computer, giving a small smile to the blonde man who’d walked in.

“Hey Steve. Just finishing up some emails and then I was gonna head down to the store and get something for meeting tonight. Anything in particular you want?” Your head went back down to typing as Steve walked toward you and put a hand on your back.

“Whatever you pick is fine. How you holding up? Nat said she hasn’t spoken to you since last week after group.”

You knew they worried about her. You lost contact with a lot of people after the snap. Tony cut you off completely, although Pepper emailed you pictures of their daughter. You’d been to New Asgard to visit Thor once or twice, but he told you not to come back. Whether it was because you reminded him of his failure or just because he’d rather be depressed and alone, you didn’t know. But you made sure the Valkyrie kept you in the loop, making sure he was at least alive. Nat and Steve were your only friends now and while you loved them, they could be very overbearing at times.

“I’m doing okay. I uh, I’ve been redoing my apartment. New paint, new rug, all that stuff.” Your fingers moved across the keyboard, your eyes not even looking up from the screen. “I know you guys are scared I’m gonna breakdown but honestly, Rogers, I’m fine. I’m trying to move on.”

Steve looked down at you and gave a soft smile before patting you on the back and going to get chairs to set up. “Can you grab more water and maybe some MnM’s?” You chuckled and gave him a thumbs up before settling back in and finishing up emails.

About an hour later, you headed to the store, music blaring in your ears as you walked, until a song made you stop in your tracks. It was one of the songs that Bucky had heard and insisted on putting on your phone. You remembered the memory so clearly.

You had been laughing and swatting at Bucky, screeching as he pinned you underneath him and began assaulting you with kisses. Bucky had started opening up a bit more and ever since, you had the time of your life. He kissed you more and wasn’t afraid to hold you, it was amazing. Your laptop had been playing some youtube playlist of old music, trying to compile a playlist for Steve of songs he might like to listen to while on the way to different missions. All songs from the 60’s and later. When the song ‘It’s Been a Long, Long Time” by Harry, James and Helen Forrest came on, Bucky stopped and listened before standing and a ghost of a smile was on his face.

“What you thinkin’ about, Bucky?” You focused on his face before it turned to face you and he held out his hands.

“This reminds me of home. Back then, I mean. Sounds like some of the stuff we would have played back then.”

You stood up and took his hands in yours, placing one on your waist before putting your own on his shoulder and swaying gently. When a woman’s voice started to croon over the speaker, you hummed along, feeling Bucky rest his head against your own. And for a moment, you wished that you were in a snow globe. That this moment would never end and just go on forever.

You felt tears rolling down your face and quickly swiped them away. It was the one song that you refused to delete. But you always skipped it when it came on shuffle, simply for the fact it made you cry every single time. You leaned against a nearby wall and just listened, holding back every feeling until the 3 minutes concluded. You had to compose yourself. If anyone at group and especially Steve, saw your tears, they’d know that you’d been lying and that in truth, you hadn’t moved on.

After a brief time of just standing there, you took a deep breath and began again toward the store. You grabbed a case of water, enough MnM’s to feed a small army, or just one super soldier, and a medium sized platter of cookies. You paid and began your way back to the center, this time with no issues. A quick set up and a couple pots of coffee later, people started showing up. You hugged and greeted each person by name and allowed everyone some time to talk before you and Steve brought everyone to the circle and started the meeting.

“Anyone wanna start?” Steve asked, looking around. You waited about a minute before you began to speak.

“I uh…I went to the store and got water today, and our song came on.” You kept a practiced, even tone, not letting your emotion show through. “I think we all try to ignore those little signs that they’re gone…but you can’t. Because it means pretending they never existed…I think we just have to push on.”

Steve turned to you and reached over, taking your hand and squeezing. “You’re right. We gotta move on. The world is in our hands, it was left to us, guys. We gotta do something with it. Otherwise, Thanos should have killed all of us.”

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You and Steve walked into the compound, you threw your bag on the table and walked into where Nat was, sweeping past Steve and heading straight for Nat, wrapping her in a hug. “I heard you were trying to get ahold of me, even though I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to watch out for myself.” You teased, grabbing a piece of Natasha’s PB and J sandwich and taking a bite. The redhead smiled up at you and held your other hand, before you both turned to look at Steve.

“You know, I keep telling everybody that they should move on and grow. Some do, but not us.” You moved your eyes back to Nat and squeezed her hand. You sometimes forgot how much Natasha was hurting, since she rarely showed that part of her to anyone. But she had lost the only family she’d ever known. Laura, the kids, Clint…even though he wasn’t dead, he still wasn’t here and that part was hard on Nat.

“If I move on, who does this?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.” The look in both of your friend’s eyes were sad and as Nat began to speak, you felt your own eyes water up. You moved to stand behind her and lean down, wrapping your arms around her chest in an attempt to comfort her. Soon after she was finished, you heard a beep on the security camera and your jaw dropped.

“Scott?” The man was speaking about a mile a minute and you knew exactly who he was. You’d met him before the boys went to the airport, and instantly liked him. And as soon as Nat confirmed that he was actually there, you actually had some hope.

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The wave of guilt you felt as you got out of the car weighed on you. Sure, you and Tony had fought before but this time it wasn’t something trivial or unimportant. You had blamed him for Bucky dying and there wasn’t really a way to come back from that. Pepper had forgiven you, understanding your grief and letting you slide. But seeing Morgan and Tony, brought back just how selfish you had been and you hung your head in shame. Instead of talking shop with the boys, you headed inside and chatted with Pepper, even playing a little with Morgan before Pepper sent her out to save Tony from the others.

“Thanks Pepper…for letting us come here. I uh, I’m glad you and Tony got your happy ending.”

Pepper wrapped her arms around you and shook her head. “Stop blaming yourself. It’s been five years, y/n. You need to stop letting this get to you.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to Pepper’s cheek as you saw them getting up to go. “I’m really happy for you Pepper.” As you walked toward the door, you waved goodbye to Morgan and looked up at Tony. “I’m happy for you too, Tony.” He turned and called your name but you just kept walking, following Steve to the car and climbing in the back beside Scott.

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As you made your way to New Asgard, all the nerves you had pushed away came back. You hadn’t see Thor in years. And where you once were his friend and the person whose shoulder he cried on, you now were scared to face him. What if you reminded him of the bad things and pushed him into a depressive episode? You felt so much guilt for all the people you may have hurt when the Snap was fresh.

When Val looked toward the stack of empty beer kegs, you looked at her and your face dropped. He wasn’t just depressed; he was numbing the pain with alcohol. And while Bruce and Rocket may not understand, you did. You understood just how much Thor felt and what was weighing on his mind and heart.

When you knocked on the door, you didn’t expect an answer. Even so, you let Rocket try and when you ended up in the house, you couldn’t help but look around and want to cry. You knew Thor had to be in a bad place to live like this and it hurt for you to see it, but Steve had said you would do some good to see your old friend again, and you had hesitantly agreed.

When you came face to face with the God of Thunder, you expected a lot of things. Maybe to be thrown out, maybe a kiss on the cheek or even to be ignored. You did not expect to see him shirtless with a beer belly and his long blonde hair knotted and greasy. You tried to smile, truly you did, but it surely came out as more than a grimace and when Thor wrapped his arms around you, you had to hold your breath. But in all the bad, you were just happy to see him again, in any form. And now in his arms, it almost felt like it had 5 years ago, but a lot softer.

When he let you go, and Bruce mentioned Thanos, you saw the reaction. The tears, the wetness in his voice. And the fake strength in his voice as he tried to kick them out nearly broke you. But he came with you, for the beer of course. But as he was buckling himself on the ship, you reached out and took his hand.

“I missed you, Thor.”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was something and at that moment, it was the most important thing in the world. Because he was still the person she saw five years before, whether or not he knew it.

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During the ‘time heist’, you stayed with Pepper and Morgan. You played games near the lake with the smallest Stark and when Pepper jetted off in the suit Tony made for her and Happy appeared instead, you knew it was the end. The question was, had they done what needed doing. God, you hoped so. When Clint had come by, and told you about Nat, it killed you. The scream that came from you, it was loud and guttural. Hadn’t you lost enough already? Had you not been through enough than to lose your best friend?

You laid on the couch with Morgan, watching one of the home videos Tony had made throughout Morgan’s childhood when you heard a commotion outside. You pressed a finger to your lips and you and Happy both went to investigate. When you saw an injured Tony, you ran toward him, as he was supported by Steve and Pepper. “Did we… Did we win?” you asked, out of breath and looking to Steve for an answer. You got a nod and fell to your knees, tears flowing from your eyes as the reality hit. Clint tapped you on the shoulder a moment later and your eyes flew up to meet his.

“By the lake. We’ll patch Tony up but you should go down to the lake.”

You nodded, and began your way there but when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat. There, back facing you, stood James Buchanan Barnes, in all his glory. For 5 years you had prayed that you would hold him again. But this time, it wasn’t a dream. He was real and he was here. You wanted to fall to your knees again and thank god or whoever had made this possible.

But instead, you ran.

Your feet grew wings and you ran toward him with a simple scream of ‘Bucky!’ echoing in the trees. He turned and caught you in his arms as your arms and legs wrapped around him, completely enveloping him in your embrace. His own hands found their place on your body, holding you tight to him and pressing his face into your neck. You couldn’t stop crying, all you could do was hold him. Because he was real, and he was here.

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The table was set. Well, tables. Many laughing and smiling faces seated and there you were in the middle of it, making silly faces at Peter and Morgan from across the table. That was until you heard footsteps and you all stood, clapping as Tony sauntered in.

It had been a couple of months since the battle. A month since Thanos had been gone. Tony had almost lost his life fighting him, almost lost the little life he had for himself here. But he fought and with Bruce working on him, he was a force to be reckoned with.

“Thank you, thank you everyone. Very happy to be back.” Everyone sat back down and you slipped your hand into Bucky’s, leaning against him as you both watched Tony. “I just wanna thank each of you, because, well honestly, if it weren’t for you, we would have lost and all this would be…nothing.” He gestured to everything around him. Dinner continued on, everyone passing things around and telling stories to those who hadn’t been around or just chatting.

You stood up, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and excusing yourself, before going outside and settling yourself on the railing of the porch, looking out onto the lake. It was funny, how these things happened. You were sure that Bucky never imagined Tony as his next door neighbor but from where you sat on your porch, across the lake, you could see Tony’s house, just a short boat ride away.

While Bucky didn’t wanna stop fighting, he wanted a place where his family could be safe. So in the middle of the woods, they built their dream house, complete with your grandmother’s vintage record player sitting in the living room.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder and when you turned, you were shocked to see it was Tony.

“Hey kiddo. Nice place. Not as nice as mine, but you definitely could have done worse.” You chuckled and leaning into the man. Ever since his near death experience, you had talked. Long nights of discussing and thankfully, he forgave her. He understood, what you had said back then, and why you had felt that way. He was just so concerned and grieving and upset that he couldn’t handle any other person’s feelings at that moment.

“Thanks Tony.” You smiled before swinging yourself off the railing and pulling him back inside. “C’mon Iron Man, you got a party to get back to.” You pushed him back inside and leaned against the door frame, watching your family all play and laugh with each other.

A pretty perfect picture. And it was all yours.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #thor x reader friendship #tony x reader friendship #endgame rewrite

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writingruna · 7 years ago

Text

Sad Eyes

Summary: Hope and happiness doesn’t come easy for Bucky, but he will make God himself pay if you lose yours Warnings: language, very vague depression allusions A/N: literally this is over 5000 words and I am sorry not sorry A/N 2.0: shoutout to @buckyywiththegoodhair and @captainpunk for dealing with my half asleep first draft and ensuring it actually made sense A/N 3.0: this is based on the True Colors scene in Trolls – which I can’t find a video of for the life of me – where Grumpy Gills McGee realizes that while he doesn’t care about his own happiness, he will rip apart hell if Butterfly Princess Sunshine is upset for half a moment

The music was loud, but not obnoxious. Leaning against one of the armchairs on the far side of the room, it was easy to hear your friends as they spoke. “…middle of an op, why did he feel that was an appropriate moment to hit on you?” Wanda was asking Natasha as you pulled your attention away from the brooding soldiers on the other side of the room and back to the girls in the chairs close to you. You took a sip of the drink Bruce had mixed for you. They were discussing the day before, and the unfortunate probationary agent that had decided Natasha was the next love of his life.

“Being in the middle of an op caused far less of an issue than Sam did,” Natasha admitted, shaking her head.

“Sam?” you asked, reinserting yourself into the conversation. “He’s usually level-headed when it comes to guys hitting on you. It’s not like it’s rare, and you always shut it down hella fast.”

Natasha chuckled, nodding her agreement before speaking. “I was leading the training team yesterday. Sam stopped by to bring my lunch – I’d left it at home. He didn’t need to be professional about it, and he knew I did.”

“Did Sam actually give the probationary agent a black eye?” Wanda asked, and you let your focus drift away from the girls and back to Bucky. He stood alone at the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Steve had been with him earlier in the night, but had long since disappeared.

Tilting your head, you continued to stare until Natasha’s hand on your thigh sent shock waves through your body. Turning to face her as the adrenaline faded from your veins, you smiled innocently. “Did I miss my cue?” you asked. “Was it my turn to comment on your boyfriend’s unwavering chivalry?”

“No, but you were staring at Barnes again,” she teased, and you shook your head at her implications. “One of these days, he’s going to catch you.”

“I am not so sure he would mind.” Wanda cut in and you glared at her playfully.

“He just seems lonely!” you defended yourself, standing from where you had been leaning against the armrest of Natasha’s chair. “No one should be lonely at one of Tony’s parties.” You ignored their continued taunts as you walked away, waving over your shoulder and calmly taking a sip of your drink.

Although Pepper had forced Tony to keep the guest list to a minimum, the room was still full of strangers. You weaved around them, watching Bucky the whole time. He smiled when you waved and turned to face you when you reached his side. “Do you always dress up for these things?” he asked, and you laughed.

Wanda had loaned you the loose green dress after you’d complimented the color the day she had bought it, and insisted that you never return it. The heels had been a gift from Tony, and in them you could almost look Bucky in the eyes. Bucky, on the other hand, wore jeans and an old red shirt that didn’t quite fit him anymore. “As a matter of fact, Sarge,” you said, leaning against the bar as you spoke, “I do. I love a good excuse to wear a pretty dress.”

“It’s a good thing you wear a pretty dress well, then,” he answered, a teasing smirk on his face, and you laughed again. Bucky was one of your closest friends and, in moments like these, you believed that perhaps you were one of his. He teased you the way he teased Steve.

“Teach me how to dance, Sarge?” you asked, resting your hand on his right arm, knowing he was uncomfortable when you touched his left.

“Not tonight, sunshine,” he said quietly, setting his drink on the bar and pushing off it to walk away from you.

Steve laughed as he joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Keep asking,” he said. “He’ll say yes one of these nights, sunshine.”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your drink and tapped it against his. “I don’t plan on stopping, Steve.”

Exhaustion weighed down your body as you dragged yourself from your room. Your body ached for sleep, but the lingering dark images swirling through your thoughts after the mission kept you awake. You dragged your fingers across the back of the couch, grabbing a blanket as your hand passed over it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said quietly, stifling a yawn. “Pull up the movie library for me?”

“Yes, Miss. Would you like to restart the movie you began this morning?” Her mechanical voice brought solace with it. You were home.

Happiness fluttered dully in your chest as you thought back to the moments before the mission, and the movie you had started. “I would love that, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you answered, settling into the corner of the couch and wrapping the blanket tightly around you. The day had left a chill in your bones that had nothing to do with the cold. Your eyes were closed when the movie began, and the familiar music eased some of the tension from your sore muscles.

The desert had only just come in focus when shuffling feet pulled you attention away. Bruce shuffled into the room, pajamas askew and eyes unfocused. Screams echoed from the television and his eyes snapped to a you, a weak smile replacing the worry almost immediately. “Good movie,” he said, nodding toward the screen and you laughed softly.

“Care to join?” His smile grew stronger as he came and sat in the armchair nearest you, slowly relaxing as a lone man stumbled across the desert toward what he must have hoped was home. By the time he led the others back into the desert he had escaped two years before, the couches and chairs were full with pajama clad Avengers, and Dum-E was helping Tony carry bowls of popcorn from the kitchen.

“Stop trying to balance the tray and just hold it, dammit! If you drop the popcorn I’ll reprogram you to balance toilet paper,” Tony was mumbling as the robotic arm followed him from the kitchen. He passed the bowls of popcorn around, enough that each of you only needed to share with one person. Bucky sat beside you, and you didn’t protest when he took the bowl and set in on his lap.

It had surprised you when Bucky had sluggishly, but compliantly, left his room when you had sent him a message. He had settled onto the two person couch beside you, listening intently as you explained the little that had happened before he had joined you. His attention drifted between you and the movie as he asked quiet questions about characters, but it had been awhile since his last question when Tony handed out the bowls of popcorn.

A flash of light from Bucky’s phone grabbed your attention and pulled you eyes away from the screen. “Sarge!” you whispered, digging your elbow into his side. “Put your phone away! My favorite part is coming up.”

Bucky had sat close enough to you that you could feel his silent laughter and you fought a smile. “Your favorite part, sunshine?” he asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“My favorite part,” you reinforced, emphasizing each word. “Are you ready for it?” You turned your attention away from him and back to the movie playing on the screen. “Are you paying attention?” you asked, digging your fingers softly into his side as you asked.

He simply nodded and you fell silent, your hand stilling and resting gently against his side as the movie in front of you enthralled you. The two characters on screen were laughing together, the woman obviously drunk and the man trying to keep her steady as he taught her how to fight. She told him about her parents, their love story of adventure, and you mouthed the words along with her. It wasn’t a scene that was important to the plot, but it showed sides of each character that didn’t exist before and that was enough to capture you. Bucky watched you instead of the television, a small smile on his face as your eyes glowed in excitement and your mouth moved with silent words.

Dull warmth from the little sunlight that snuck through your curtains pulled you gently from sleep. You stretched your arms above your head, reluctantly happy that Steve had pulled you from your most recent mission when sparring with Natasha had left you with a bruised rib. Lazily crawling from bed, you pulled a sweatshirt over your head and left the comfort of your room. Wandering toward the kitchen, you searched through the emails on your phone. Your friend had gone to pastry school, and she sent you a recipe to make individual cinnamon rolls.

“Doubling the recipe won’t be hard,” you mumbled to yourself as you searched through the kitchen for the sugar. The organization of the kitchen made sense to Tony, but not many others. Although it took longer than you had expected, you eventually gathered all the ingredients on the counter and began to follow your friend’s directions carefully. She had warned you it was easy to miss steps.

Music played quietly through the kitchen after requesting that F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn it on for you, and you sang quietly as you slid the two medium sized cinnamon rolls into the oven. Crossing the kitchen, you set a timer on your phone and sat down at the breakfast bar to wait. The sun had risen higher and the kitchen was growing warmer, despite Tony’s horrific attempts to keep the entire building freezing. Footsteps pulled your attention away from the game on your phone and a soft smile pulled at your lips.

“Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” Bucky asked, brushing his hand over your shoulder as he walked passed you and into the kitchen. He took the kettle from the stove and filled it with water.

Setting your phone on the counter, you watched as he pulled two mugs from the cupboard and sifted through the dozens of bags of coffee until he found the one you liked. “If you didn’t want me to wear it, you shouldn’t have left it in my room,” you answered as the water began to boil. He laughed, but didn’t answer as he poured the grounds into the kettle. You lapsed into a comfortable silence, and you let your eyes drift closed as you listened to him move around the kitchen. The boiling kettle kept you from drifting to sleep, and you opened your eyes as he filled the two mugs with coffee.

Dozens of chairs and stools were scattered through the kitchen, but he sat on the stool next to you, the way he did every morning, and set the warm cup of coffee in front of you, the way he did every morning. “Sarge,” you began, not bothering to look at him as you took a sip of the coffee he’d bought you. “I had this absolutely wild dream last night.”

“Yeah?” You could hear the smile in his voice as he prompted you to continue.

“It was like this one scene out of my favorite movie from when I was little. We were at this haunted island resort – you and I were – and this crazy guy with head tattoos all over his head was talking about the monsters that had lived under the island for thousands of years.” The timer you’d set began to buzz and you stopped talking as you slid off your chair.

“What happened next, sunshine?” Bucky asked.

“We were at dinner listening to tattoo head play the piano when actual monsters broke through the floor and started kidnapping everyone!” Standing on your toes, you pulled two plates from the shelf. “Shit hit the fan, Sarge. It was almost as bad as Siberia.”

“Nothing could be as bad Siberia,” Bucky interrupted, and you laughed, remember the weekend in the bitter cold.

“I swear, Sarge,” you said, holding your hand over your heart after you opened the oven. “It was almost as bad as Siberia. Anyway,” you continued, crouching to pull the two cinnamon rolls from the oven, “these monsters started chasing us all over the resort and we ended up riding a laundry cart through a window to escape them!”

“How did we end up in a laundry cart?” he asked as you walked back to him, placing the second plate and cinnamon roll in front of him.

“No clue,” you said slowly, shaking your head and sitting down. His eyes narrowed and you scoffed. “It was a dream, Sarge! You should be proud of me for remembering as much as I did.”

He chuckled. “You said it was like a scene from one of your favorite movies?”

“The movie is completely cheesy,” you admitted, cutting apart the roll on your plate, “but I watched it over and over when I was in middle school.” You paused to take a bite and rolled your eyes in bliss. “We could watch it if you want?”

“That sounds like the perfect way to spend a day off.”

A cold breeze blew passed and you were grateful for the sweater you had grabbed before hiding on the balcony with your worn out journal. In New York, the air wasn’t fresh, but it wasn’t as stale as inside. The sun had begun to set and the night was growing colder when Steve joined you.

“I need your help,” he said. He collapsed into the chair across the table, face covered with defeat. Panic and worry shot through your veins before his words soothed it away. “Peg and I got into a fight and you need to help me fix things.”

“Get her some flowers, Steve,” you said, giggling quietly. “Peggy loved flowers back in high school. I even know the stand–”

“Flowers would take too long!” he interrupted you, anxiety flitting through his eyes. “I figure if I send her a sweet text now, and show up with dinner later, it’ll set things right.”

For a moment, you faltered. Although you had grown up with Peggy, heartfelt messages had never been your strength. “Well, uhm, isn’t your anniversary coming up? Say something about how having her in your life makes you better.” He looked at you hopefully and you stammered as you struggled to expand on your thought. “Without you by my side, uhm, New York wouldn’t be the same?”

“Is that the best you can do, sunshine?” Bucky’s voice surprised you and pulled your attention rapidly away from Steve. He was leaning against the doorframe, but took the open chair beside you after he spoke.

“Think you can do any better?” you retorted, regretting your words as soon as you did. Everyone had heard the stories of Steve’s teenage years with the shameful flirt James Buchanan Barnes

“What’s your favorite thing about Peggy?” Bucky asked, turning his attention to Steve instead of answering your question.

“Damn, Buck, I don’t know. I love everything about her.” Steve stared dreamily at his phone, clicking away from messages to look at the photograph of him and Peggy. “She’s everything to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, laughing quietly at his best friend. “That’s very sweet, but not helpful.” He sighed, pressing his lips together, and his eyes flickered to you before he returned his attention to Steve. “When I’m with you,” he began, eyes unfocused as he spoke, “eternity is trapped in each moment. Time passes too quickly and then not at all.”

You shifted in your seat, watching Bucky in amazement as he continued. “Sinatra would have never sung again had he heard your laugh,” a blissful smile crossed his lips, “because nothing could ever sound as sweet.” He ran his hands through the long hair at the base of his neck, shaking his head and biting his lip softly. Steve stared at his best friend, happiness behind his eyes as he saw flashes of the man he had lost all those years before.

“If your eyes shined as bright as the sun,” his voice had grown quiet, as if he was no longer speaking to Steve, and his eyes flickered to meet yours, “I’d go blind just to look at them one last time.” He dropped his eyes as he finished speaking, but you continued to stare at him, unable to look away. Your thoughts were jumbled, struggling to connect the words you’d heard to the silent and sarcastic man you had grown so close to.

Steve broke the silence, his voice violently ripping you from your thoughts. “Been a few years since I’ve heard you talk like that,” he said, chuckling. “I have a feeling those words are meant for someone specific though. Doesn’t feel right to take them from you.” Bucky forced a grin onto his face, his eyes not quite focused and Steve turned his attention to you before he continued. “Flowers on the way home, right?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you said, clearing your throat in the hopes of finding your voice. “From the flower stand she likes in Central Park, not the corner market. The pink tulips are her favorites. I think they’re in season now.”

“How do you know Peggy’s favorite flowers?” Bucky asked. His eyes were focused again, filled with laughter as he asked. Steve nodded his thanks as he left the balcony, pointing toward Central Park as he did.

“Peggy is a good friend,” you said, your voice faltering for a moment before you continued. “She’s always been there. Everyone always seems to forget that I was the one that introduced the two of them.”

Embarrassment flashed across Bucky’s face and he hung his head for a moment. “Would a movie night be a sufficient apology for my forgetfulness?”

“It’s been a long week, and I’m pretty tired. Raincheck?” you asked, standing up and tucking your journal against your side. He nodded and you forced a smile onto your face. “Thanks Bucky,” you said as you walked back into the tower.

An uncomfortably loud alarm ripped Bucky from sleep and he groaned as he rolled over in bed. He never seemed to sleep long enough to feel rested. Dragging himself slowly from beneath his blankets, he blindly fumbled toward his dresser for a shirt, not yet willing to open his eyes. For a moment, he considered crawling back into bed and regret flickered through his thoughts as he remembered he had agreed to spar with Steve that morning.

Forcing himself to stand, he opened his eyes and walked from his room. You were the only one there when he reached the kitchen, buttered toast in front of you as you stared blankly at your phone. The game you played each morning was open, but you didn’t move to play it as he walked up behind you. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Good morning,” you answered dully, eyes never leaving your phone. The kettle was in its place beside the sink and he filled it with water before setting it on the stove. He sorted through the bags of coffee, searching for the one you drank every morning. No one had put the dishes away the night before, and he opened the washer to grab two mugs. You didn’t speak to him as he made the coffee, but the silence didn’t bother him.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked softly as he sat down beside you, setting your coffee in front of you.

Warmth bloomed in his chest as he heard your voice, easing away the last of the sleep that clouded his mind. “Each night is better than the last. Did you?” He wanted to ask you what you had dreamed about, but it was never something he had done before. You always shared before he had the chance.

“My room was cold,” you answered him, wrapping your hands around the mug, “but I slept well enough.” You lifted the mug up, blowing on the coffee before taking a hesitant sip.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you stood before he had the chance. “It’s still cold,” you said quietly, “and I left my sweatshirt upstairs. I’m glad you slept well, Bucky.” A small smile crossed your face as you spoke, and he watched you walk away from him, his sweatshirt hanging loosely on your frame.

Familiar music played as he opened the door to the gym and excitement sparked in his chest. It had been several days since he’d seen you, jetlag forcing him into a schedule no sane agent kept. You were across the gym, lifting weights alone, the workout playlist you had designed months before playing through the speakers. Bucky crossed the room slowly, simply happy to be in the same place as you again. He had missed you.

“Looking for a spotter?” he asked and panic crossed your face for a moment before your eyes met his. Relief filled your eyes and you smiled up at him. Worries mingled in the back of his mind as the smile didn’t reach your eyes, but he forced them aside as you answered.

“A spotter would be nice,” you said. He moved to stand behind you as you lifted the bar above your head again. The days you spent together in the gym were filled with sarcastic retorts and your soft singing, but you were silent as he watched the bar in your hands. Your eyes seemed unfocused, and your movements robotic.

Silence between you was usually comfortable and peaceful, but today it set him on edge. He wanted nothing more than to hear you tell him about the dreams you had while he was away, or the movies he still needed to see. Your voice had become his comfort and solace, and it had been all he had wanted over the past days without you.

Bucky followed when you set the bar down, moving on to the next exercise in the cycle he often helped with. You didn’t offer to spot for him, but it didn’t come as surprise. After the only time he had agreed to let you try, everyone had decided that it was best he and Steve spotted each other. In the weeks after the unspoken incident, you had fallen into a routine. He would spot your lifting each day, and you would spar while he and Steve lifted weights. When they were done, you would run together.

An unbidden grin crossed his face when you finally spoke, but it faded as he heard your words. “I don’t think I’ll finish the rest today, but thank you for spotting me.”

“It’s been a few weeks since we’ve done the Central Park route, sunshine. Give me an hour?” He didn’t try to hide the hope in his voice, and it wasn’t hard for him to see that the smile you returned was forced.

“Maybe next time, Bucky.” You grabbed your bag off the bench as you spoke, walking silently from the room, the music fading away as you did. He watched you leave, staring as the gym doors closed behind your figure.

A weight on his shoulder pulled Bucky’s attention slowly away from the closed door. Steve stood next to him, staring after you. “Is she alright, Buck?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment of silence, biting his lip absentmindedly. He wanted to chase after you, but uncertainty held him back. It had been decades since he’d tried to care for anyone, and he wasn’t sure he remembered how.

Bucky fiddled with his tie, glaring as Steve laughed. “I blame this on you, punk,” he grumbled. He wore the tie with a grey button up shirt, but he hadn’t gone far enough to wear anything other than his jeans.

Steve’s laughter just grew louder. “I thought you were dying for an excuse to dress up, jerk.” Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head at his friend, gesturing at his neck until his friend helped him to straighten his tie. “At least it matches.”

“Matching is the only thing that matters,” Sam’s voice cut in, and Bucky groaned in faux irritation.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“Just a game of pool,” Sam said, holding his hands up in surrender, “and a bet.”

“That sounds more like you,” Bucky teased, but he followed Sam toward the pool table. “When is your girlfriend getting here?”

“Natasha said she’d be here around 9:00. She insisted she had to be fashionably late.” He handed Bucky a pool cue as he spoke, obviously uninvested in the conversation. “Alright, loser does all the mission debrief paperwork for a week.” Although both men were hesitant, Steve and Bucky didn’t set down their cues and let Sam break.

The music played quietly as the three men played, Bucky’s eyes darting around the room in search of you. It had been nearly a week since he had seen you, and a week too long as far as he was concerned. You always came to Tony’s parties dressed to the nines, and he had attempted to follow suit. He was excited to see you again, and he even found himself looking forward to the taunts you would undoubtedly throw his way when you saw his tie.

“Buck!” Steve’s voice cut into his thoughts and drew his attention back to the game. “Your shot.” Concern laced Steve’s voice. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.“

“Fine,” Bucky answered, shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the fog thinking of you had created. Bending down to line up his next shot – his winning shot – he lost focus as Natasha walked into the room, Wanda on her left and no one on her right. He straightened quickly, his cue hitting the ball and sending it shooting in the wrong direction, but he didn’t notice. “Has anyone seen (Y/n)?” Bucky asked, no longer paying attention as Sam and Steve continued to play pool.

“No,” Pepper’s voice surprised him, he hadn’t realized she had joined Tony, “but if you see her, let her know she needs to call me. She missed our meeting this morning.” His lungs tightened as she spoke, and panic overrode his thoughts. He vaguely registered Steve repeating his name as he leaned the pool cue in his hand against the table where the drinks sat, but he didn’t stop to listen as he walked across the room. Sam called after him and he waved over his shoulder as he weaved through the crowd. You never missed meetings.

Anticipation filled his chest as he reached your door and, for a moment, he doubted himself. He knocked on your door softly, his worry overshadowing the little doubt he had. The quiet sounds of your favorite movie were audible through the door, but you didn’t answer. “It’s just me,” he said. “Please let me in?” His forehead fell against the door as the silence dragged on and he closed his eyes. “Please, sunshine,” he said weakly.

He sank to the ground, sitting with his back pressed to your door. “I’ll stay for a while,” he said, unsure if you could even hear him, “just in case you change your mind.” The silence stretched, but he stayed against your door, unwilling to leave until he had seen you – even if you only let him in long enough to send him away. A quiet robotic voice reached his ears and the door behind him opened, letting him tumble into your room.

Hurriedly climbing to his feet, he saw you in bed, curled up beneath the blanket he’d brought home from Russia, staring at the television as your favorite movie played quietly. The dull ache that had settled in his chest when the girls had walked in alone faded. Bucky crossed the room and lay silently on the bed beside you, not trying to pull you from the cocoon you had created for yourself. He recognized the scenes as the movie played, and he had been outside your room long enough to realize it was just restarting.

It surprised him when you broke the silence, your voice quiet and hoarse. He had to strain to hear your words over the rising music as the movie played. “What are you doing here?” you asked him. “You look a bit overdressed.” You unwrapped the blanket from around you, tossing the corner over his legs.

“Tony’s party was dull,” he said, straightening the blanket more fully over his legs as you struggled to push it toward him. “The company wasn’t what I was looking for.” You hummed in acknowledgement of his answer, but didn’t speak again. He tugged at the tie he was still wearing – the one Steve had said would match your dress – and loosened it until he could pull it over his head and drop it onto the ground beside your bed.

The ending credits began to play and he stood up, crossing the room to take the remote from beside the television and start the movie again. He reached out for you as he lay back in the bed beside you, tucking you into his side and holding you close. You relaxed into his hold, shifting to settle yourself against his chest as the first scene began to play.

This time, he broke the silence as the creature screamed and the man screamed back, shooting the creature before leading the woman to safety. “Will it help if I play it again?” he asked you softly.

“What?” you finally looked up at him, confused eyes meeting his.

“You always laugh. You say it’s because screaming is a useless way to frighten someone, but especially a monster.”

“Maybe it’s not funny,” you said, dropping your eyes away from his.

“Maybe I miss your laugh,” he said quietly. You didn’t answer, but you shifted closer to him, holding him tighter with the arm wrapped around his middle. He let the rest of the movie pass in silence, content to hold you against him and feel your steady breathing.

Names scrolled across the screen as the credits began to play again. He began to move from your hold to start the movie over again, but your quiet whimpers stop him. Your hold on him tightened and he looked down at you, but your eyes were trained on the remote on your nightstand. Understanding your unspoken request, he settled back into your bed and wrapped his arm around you again as he fumbled with the remote until the credits disappeared and the movie started over.

“Will you do something for me?” he asked, fiddling with the remote until he managed to pause the movie. Instead of speaking, you looked up at him expectantly and tightened your fingers around his side. “Smile for me?” he asked.

A weak smile crossed your lips. “There’s that beautiful smile. I can’t remember when I last saw it,” he whispered. It was forced, and it didn’t reach your eyes, but it was a sight he had longed for for days. The movie began to play again and you turned your attention away from him, but he continued to watch you.

As the movie played on, your eyes drifted closed and your breathing grew slow. The remaining tension leaked from your body ask you drifted to sleep against him. He pressed a kiss to your head and gently shifted you in his hold until he was able to lay down in your bed. “I will always be here told hold you,” he whispered. “On the good days, and the bad days.”

@jarnesbrnes @bovaria @moreinfinite @aloopofdysania @captainpunk @youandb @capsbuchanan @widowswife @azzylion @assembletheimagines @missnerdiness @imaginingbucky @sebbytrash @dressed-like-a-russian-assassin @buckysberrie @blueeyedbucky @avengerofyourheart @wunnywho @fucky-thebucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @marvelfanfichq @mindlessnerd89 @kapolisradomthoughts @redroomproperty @danijimenezv @shelvesandwhelves @kaywolves @duhhandrea @mpunter @descentofthe-losechesters @whatsbetterthanfantasy @4theluvofall @themilkface @so-get-this-i-need-pie @wordstothewisereaders @writingfortheavengers @kissofvenom922 @jesslovesfandom @hell-yeah-avengers @soldierborky @capsicle-fondues @the-hidden-seeker @misswinchester221b @panicnowandrun @messy-hair-and-bold-lips @canikeepit-imkeepingit @avengerstories @bookshelvesandteacups @john-benderr @mizzzpink @sebbymylove16 @sociallyimpairedme @all-that-glitters-is-cold

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hey-kids-want-some-avengers · 8 years ago

Text

To Build a Home (Pt. 2)

A/N: here’s part two! More Sam because I love my bird boy. _____________________________________

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Warnings: trans!Steve, needles, Testosterone, outing/being outed, protective!Bucky

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.

They’re sprawled out on their sectional couch in the living room with the lights almost all off, pizza in one hand and beer in the other, while a movie plays in the background over their talking. There’s two pizza boxes on the floor and several more on the coffee table Sam and Bucky both currently have their feet up on. To Sam’s shock, Steve’s packed away the most food so far. Bucky knows him too well to be surprised.

Steve, he eats like a pig. He can put away twice as much as Bucky can, especially for his overall weight and size. He put on a decent amount of weight just to start T, and even now he’s still skinny. The Testosterone has really only made his apatite increase too, which is fairly common.

“Gonna leave any for the guest?” Bucky questions with a chuckle when Steve reaches over for another piece of pizza. Sam snorts and Steve glares at both of them right before stuffing half the piece into his mouth. Point made.

“Guess not,” Sam sighs, he’s smiling though and clearly joking. Sam’s on his second beer, and Bucky’s got his second open, he just hasn’t started on it yet. Thankfully, Steve’s still sipping at his first.

They’re currently watching ‘The Blair Witch Project’, because Bucky opened his fat mouth about it being a rip off of every other horror movie just like it. He’s learning to keep his mouth shut around not just one, but two cinema fanatics. So yeah, now they’re busy proving him wrong, and yes he now knows it was the first hand held, documentary type horror film of its kind. Let alone to be shown in theater.

It’s a good movie, he likes it and they’re paying attention for the most part, when they aren’t caught up in a sudden and pointless conversation.

It’s getting late, dark out by now and the street lights are on outside their large living room window, illuminating the hardwood floor. Honestly, Bucky’s pretty well sidetracked, between the food and beer, the movie playing in front of him, he’s relaxed. It’s not until his phone, sitting on the arm rest right next to him lights up with a small buzz, showing a little reminder on his screen, that he remembers what he’s forgotten.

Time to make a man out of Steve ;)

Fuck, there’s no subtle way to bring it up with Sam right next to Steve. Steve’s too engrossed in the movie to even look at Bucky, so he has no clue what he’s going to do. He actually thinks about just whispering it to him, but the both of them suddenly excusing themselves in the middle of a movie for seemingly no reason? It’s a little suspicious. He can’t say anything upfront either, he would never do that to Steve.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam says after a long drink from his beer. He’s smiling though, so he’s probably not being serious. It gets Steve’s attention regardless.

“Work stuff,” Bucky says awkwardly, which is such bullshit and everyone knows it.

Steve looks utterly confused. “Work? Is everything okay?” Steve asks. He’s frowning, looking like a guilty puppy.

“Yeah, uh, can I talk to you?” He uses the excuse anyways, it’ll work and he’s not seeing any other chances coming up. “Alone?”

Steve’s still frowning at him, and Sam’s expression is a carbon copy. Steve nods, glancing at Sam with a apologetic look.

“Hey man, it’s fine. I’ll be here getting the last of the pizza while I still can,” he grins, winking at them as Bucky stands up.

“Thanks,” Bucky says before he heads out of the room, towards the stairs. Steve gets up, he hears him say something to Sam before he’s hurrying after Bucky. They could have gone into the hall if they just needed to talk, but if he’s going to give him his shot, they have to be in their bedroom. Which yeah, it draws slightly more attention to the issue, since its all the way upstairs, but it’ll work.

“Buck, what’s wrong?” Steve asks again as he follows after Bucky. He looks like ten different kinds of worried, it’s a pitiful look on him, one he hasn’t had to see since they moved.

“Time for your shot,” Bucky answers as he closes the door behind Steve.

Steve makes a noise, not quite a gasp but it’s an excited noise. “I almost completely forgot,” he says, looking at Bucky with a small grin. “smooth by the way– downstairs?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, grinning briefly as he goes over to the cabinet that their TV sits on and pulls out the little cooler box they keep the sharps container and shots in. “You’re welcome.”

Steve chuckles. He sits on the edge of their bed and the springs creak underneath his shifting weight as he struggles to get his pants down around his ankles. He’s nervously messing with a stray string coming off his boxers while Bucky readies the injection. He always gets himself worked up, he has to shut his eyes so he won’t see the needle and send himself into a panic attack. He’s gotten a little better, but he still can’t do it himself or even watch.

“Ready?” Bucky asks as he crouches down in front of Steve. He’s holding the needle out of sight for Steve’s sake. He looks a little pale and he’s bouncing his knee but he nods anyways.

“Just hurry?” He asks nervously, rubbing his knuckles. “Sam’s waiting.”

Bucky smiles and pecks his lips quickly. “Alright, close your eyes, we’ll do it on three.” He says, putting his free hand on Steve’s other leg, rubbing it comfortingly as he wipes the injection sight with rubbing alcohol. The smell hits them both at roughly the same time and Steve breathes out sharply. It’s been almost four and a half months since he’s started hormones and he still manages to get himself worked up every time. Bucky got over the initial panic that came with stabbing your boyfriend with a needle after the second time he gave it to him.

Bucky gives Steve’s leg a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, deep breathes.”

“Okay, yeah,” Steve hisses, trying to make his breathing a little less strained.

“One,” Bucky says softly as he airs off the last of the rubbing alcohol and checks the needle for any bubbles or clouding. There’s none, of course, but it’s important to check. “Two,” he taps the side and Steve squirms a little in anticipation. He panics if he goes too fast, but he hates when Bucky takes too long, so far there hasn’t been a happy medium. “Okay, deep breath, and three.”

He pokes the needle into the meat of Steve’s thigh and slowly lets the liquid empty. Steve holds his breath even despite Bucky’s advice, but at least it’s over.

“There. All done,” Bucky promises as he pulls the needle out and tosses it into the sharps container. Steve opens his eyes to look, instead he looks behind Bucky over his shoulder and his mouth just sort of hangs open.

“Shit, this isn’t the bathroom, huh?” Sam says from the doorway and Bucky stands up immediately. He looks at Sam sternly, standing in front of Steve in an instant like it might shield him. It only does a little.

“Get out,” Bucky snaps and Sam puts his hands up in surrender.

“Hey man, it was just an accident, for real,” Sam says, brow furrowing. He backs up slightly more into the doorway than before regardless.

Steve makes a small noise of disapproval and tugs Bucky’s shirt from behind but he ignores it. This exactly what he was trying to avoid. “Get out.”

“Bucky, please–it’s too late,” Steve says pathetically and Bucky’s stomach clenches. He feels so fucking bad. Why couldn’t he lock a door? It should’ve been common sense.

Meanwhile, Sam’s hovering like he isn’t quite sure what he’s supposed to do. Bucky sighs heavily and folds his arms over his chest. It’s a move he knows for a fact is fairly intimidating.

“Just come in, it’s…fine,” Steve says, still clutching the back of Bucky’s shirt. Steve sounds far from fine himself, he sounds scared and upset. He has every right to be. With the situation, with Bucky.

Sam nods, walks in all the way and shuts the door behind him. He’s apparently more intelligent than Bucky’s been giving him credit for though, because he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t say word. He stays silent, staring at them blankly.

“If you say a god damn word-”

“Bucky,” Steve frowns, standing up and tugging his pants back onto his hips. He steps to the side, so Bucky’s no longer covering him. He’s not terribly happy about that, because now he isn’t really doing much to protect him, or much of anything really, but he lets Steve speak for himself.

He doesn’t say anything though, he’s looking at Sam waiting for the questions he’s sure will come.

“You’re uh, so you’re a girl?” Sam asks, and he’s blatantly aware he’s walking on thin ice. Bucky’s about ready to snap the guy’s neck. The worst part, is he looks genuinely confused, like he’s actually not sure. How fucking dumb can you be?

Bucky practically growls, “No, he’s not a girl.” Is this asshole serious right now? He looks serious. Bucky can’t fathom the idiocy it takes to assume, after everything, that Steve is a girl.

Steve sighs, his lip is pink and a little puffy from where he’s been biting and pulling at it for the majority of the conversation. He’s considerably calmer than Bucky, and it’s probably because he’s dealt with this before, but that just makes him even more angry. He shouldn’t have to. “I’m a guy, I’m trans,” Steve responds simply, and he puts it in a way that’s sweet and fairly blatant, while he’s still leaving room for question. He’s not sure how Steve does it.

A little lightbulb might as well appear over Sam’s head, judging by the way his eyes light up in understanding. Fucking finally. “So like,” he pauses, looking at Steve like he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, but Steve nods at him to continue. He’s pointedly not looking at Bucky, by the way, which is even more annoying. “Born female? But, you’re a dude?”

Steve actually laughs, “yeah, pretty much.” He looks hopeful, like he’s practically praying Sam’s going to understand and actually accept it. It makes Bucky’s stomach get knots in it, because Steve deserves all the acceptance in the world, even from this moron.

Sam nods again. “Okay,” he says simply and Bucky’s going to scream. Okay? That’s what he has to say?

“That’s okay?”

Sam snorts, shrugging. “Yeah, that’s okay. I’ve always known you as Steve, so, you’re Steve,” Sam says like it’s the obvious answer. It should be, but it isn’t always.

Bucky’s a little more relaxed, but his guard is still on high.

“Thank you,” Steve smiles, Sam shoves his hands in his pockets and nods with a small smile.

“Yeah, I had to pause the damn movie for you two though, you were taking forever.”

Bucky glares at him, because really? “I was giving my boyfriend a fucking testosterone shot,” he says incredulously.

“Bucky, it’s okay, relax,” Steve smiles. He turns and stands in front of him, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s middle. He lets him because it’s his Steve, and he can do whatever he wants as far as he’s concerned.

“I don’t see him lining up to jab metal and liquid into you,” Bucky grumbles back. He cards a hand through Steve’s hair while pointedly glaring at Sam over his shoulder.

“The shot? I can, next time,” Sam offers like it’s seriously no big deal.

Steve grins at Bucky, looking up the little ways he has to in order to make eye contact. “Not happening,” Bucky says flatly and Sam grins. It’s a challenged sort of look regardless.

“Don’t say I didn’t offer,” Sam responds with a smirk.

The way Bucky sees it, since he’s been putting up with Sam all day, the witty comments, idiocy, and overall stress, he better get laid later.

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