#bucky is russian. hates americans. gets a crush on one anyway. i think it's fun.

[lovelyirony]

I am a HUGE winteriron shipper so if that's acceptable for you could you do a fic, however short or long you want with winteriron and the prompt: Russian Bucky. That's it. Russian Bucky. How, why, is up to you but that's the prompt! Thank you!

Bucky does not like that he’s in America again. Even if he is really only here to act as security for Natasha’s new art showing. 

It’s loud, friendly, and he just wants to drink in silence. People never stop talking. 

Natasha’s first night is all the exclusive donors and previous buyers. He knows some of the people. Bruce is actually his favorite American because he’s awkward and doesn’t like talking anyways, but he has a great way with reviews for art and placement of it. 

There’s Clint, who’s a disaster who bought him a tiny bottle of shitty vodka and said “welcome to America! Please don’t kill me,” and Bucky’s not honestly sure why he’s invited because he’s very broke. 

“He entertains me,” Natasha says, scarlet lips pulling into a grin as he watches him nearly trip and fall over an untied shoelace. “And he’s...fun. Very American.” 

“Didn’t know your type was Americans,” Bucky mutters. “The first thing I know you to have bad taste in.” 

“Oh, as if your type is any better,” Natasha mutters.

“And what is my type, exactly?” 

“You don’t have one,” Natasha says glibly, “because you prefer staying forever alone and broody.” 

“I’m not broody.” 

“Your all-black outfit begs difference,” Sharon calls, grinning. “Hey Buck, long-time no-see.” 

“Hi Sharon,” Bucky says, smiling slightly. 

He sees Steve behind her, almost looking like a golden retriever. They had served together in the army when they were young, and Bucky’d had to drag that stupid boy out of too many fights. 

It made them best friends, almost like brothers, and it’s the only reason why he usually adventures out to America. 

“Missed seeing you,” Steve says, bringing him into a hug. “There’s only so many times Sharon will tolerate sushi with me.” 

“He claims that it’s a miracle food,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “I just think he likes it because you like it.” 

“I do not!” Steve teases. “Hey, Natasha.” 

“Hey stranger,” Nat says, grinning. “Surprised to see you out of running shorts and tank tops.” 

“You don’t only see me when I’m running,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “You come to see Sharon about every week.” 

“Yeah but I only have eyes for her,” Natasha says, winking. 

“Stop flirting with my wife.” 

“Then stop being married to such a beautiful woman.” 

Sharon snorts, looking down at her phone, and then back up at Nat. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I need to let my cousin in. He’s the one I told you about who liked your newspaper collage-work.” 

Natasha looks over at Bucky for a moment and oh no. She has her match-making look on her. 

“I think you’ll like Tony,” she says grinning. 

“I’m sure he’ll be a good client of yours,” Bucky responds, lips pressing into a straight line. “I don’t need to be dating, Romanov.” 

“Ooh last name, how scary,” she teases. 

Tony is....American. 

He’s already laughing loudly with Sharon about some sort of in-joke, and walks right up to Natasha with a smile. 

“Miss Romanov, you look as wonderful as your art. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.” 

He then kisses the top of her hand and starts into conversation about how he discovered her art from his assistant, Pepper, and he thought it would be a good fit for his personal home. 

Bucky stays in the background, hoping that this talkative machine would follow along with Nat and distract her for an hour or two. 

And then she turns. 

“Tony...have you met Bucky Barnes? He runs security.” 

“I haven’t,” Tony says, smiling. “Nice to meet you. Your parents name you after a family member?” 

“President,” Bucky answers stiffly. 

“And here I thought you were Russian.” 

“I am. They just hated communism.” 

Tony barks out a laugh. 

“Well, come. Look at art with us and tell me more about yourself.” 

“No,” Bucky states. He then turns on his heel and walks away. 

No sense in giving this guy hope. 

But he’s undeterred. 

While he maintains his space, he still talks to Bucky throughout the event. 

He comes back the next day with two robots to help wrap the works. 

“What,” Bucky says, looking at the two creatures who seem to be bickering. 

“They’re fighting over who gets to put the bow on it,” Tony says. “Dummy, put the bow on. You, I’ll give you a bow to put on. No sense in fighting.” 

“You named them ‘Dummy’ and ‘You’?” 

“Spelled differently,” Tony says. “Dum-E is just...he likes to make oil smoothies, and U has opinions about the alphabet arrangement. Don’t ask them about it. But how are you doing, Bucky?” 

“Fine.” 

“Only fine? We’ll have to change that. Let me take you out for a burger?” 

“No. I don’t like American food. Or Americans.” 

“Can’t blame you there,” Tony says with a sigh, but grins anyways. “Let me know if you do change your mind at all though, Barnes.” 

Yeah, he won’t be. 

-

Except that Nat likes America, and he thinks she found a muse in Clint, because she told Bucky that she’s staying in America for the next six months at least. 

“I hate you,” he says, cursing her out. “Why here?!” 

“Why not?” Natasha says. “Their winters are similar, if not nicer. Besides, you can be friends with Steve and not have to see anyone else besides Clint. And maybe Tony. I like Tony.” 

“Why do you like him?” Bucky groans. “He talks too quickly. He is too American. I don’t trust his teeth.” 

“Don’t trust his dentist then, not the teeth,” she responds with a shrug. “And I like him because he’s good people. Even if he doesn’t seem it. Keep an eye on him for me when he’s around, okay?” 

“What, afraid he’ll overpay for your work again?” 

“I’d like that,” Natasha muses, thinking about the obscene amount of money he had sent her way, under the guise of “her having too much immense talent not to.” 

It was enough to give Bucky quite the generous raise, which was appreciated. But he still didn’t like him. 

-

Tony becomes integrated into their lives with ease. 

He likes improving Clint’s building, checking in on Nat, and invading Bucky’s space. 

It’s not all bad. Sometimes Tony gives him a hot dog, which is good. 

“You’re going to go rail-thin at this rate,” Tony says, shoving a baguette into his hands. “Who goes grocery shopping for you? Mice? Why do you have, like, miniscule portions? I know that Russia is different, but you still get fed.” 

“We sacrifice half our food to the leader of Mother Russia,” Bucky deadpans. “And then we get our yearly tracksuit in return.” 

Tony laughs, and Bucky kind of likes making him laugh. 

Not in that way. Don’t go thinking that. 

“Well, regardless. I think you’re almost conning me into doing this.” 

“What, me? Getting free food? A whole baguette? I don’t think so,” Bucky says. “But next time, give me soup.” 

Tony laughs again. 

-

Bucky didn’t think he’d take him seriously. 

“I wasn’t sure what soups you like or if you have allergies, so I brought four different soups,” he answers. 

“Tony, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Silence Ice-Pop,” Tony shushes. “This one is black-bean soup, this one is broccoli-cheddar, this one is your standard chicken-noodle, and this one is French onion...” 

“Well come on in, then,” Bucky sighs. “You’re gonna have to help me finish this soup.” 

-

He doesn’t know why he does it. 

But Tony’s bodyguard had a surprise funeral, can’t make it to a high-up event for Tony, and so Bucky volunteers. 

It’s a charity, one that Tony never misses. Ever. 

Natasha asks him to do it. 

“I know you’ll complain and bitch, but genuinely he-” 

“I already told him I’d go,” Bucky says. “Texted him.” 

“You have his number?” Natasha questions, brows furrowing. “I thought you hated him.” 

“Gave me soup. Can’t hate a guy who gives you soup.” 

“Holy shit, are you gonna marry him?” 

“Why would I marry him?” Bucky splutters. “What, because I accepted soup?” 

“One time a guy called you cute, and you told him that he needed to stop revealing so much about himself because you could kill him,” Nat said. “You haven’t even threatened Tony’s life yet! I can’t believe I didn’t put it together! You like-” 

“Do not finish that sentiment,” Bucky threatens. “Do not, if you do-” 

“You like him!” 

“I don’t!” Bucky hisses. “I do not like an American!” 

“You do!” Natasha proclaims, laughing. “Oh my god! You like an American!” 

“Shut up!” Bucky groans. “I hate myself!” 

Natasha cannot stop laughing, wheezing on the couch. “Holy shit!” 

“Do not tell him,” Bucky begs. “Don’t tell anybody.” 

“You’re such a nerd,” Natasha snorts. “I won’t tell anybody for two months. But you have to tell him.” 

“I don’t have to tell him shit,” Bucky scowls. 

“I think you do. I think he could potentially like you.” 

“No. I’ll get over it.” 

Natasha gives him a flat look. 

“You can’t just ‘get over’ a crush.” 

“Yes I can. I’m Russian. We can do it.” 

“No,” Natasha says simply. “Two months, Yasha! Two months!” 

...great. 

Now he has to deal with liking an American.