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whiskey-fever · 2 years ago

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𝐆𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐆𝐨 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ✯ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ✯ 2.5k Warnings ✯ Swearing, pet names, fluff, flirting to the extreme, Bucky is a show off Event ✯ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse | Ｃ２ - Mechanic AU Author's Note ✯ Well, this was self-indulgent to the max, sue me. This is the song... for the scene.

His Girls Masterlist | June-iverse Masterlist

There had never been a real need for you to visit your local mechanic. Your car was sturdy and stubborn, taking hit, after hit, after hit, and you just rolled with the punches. Until you landed in a tough spot – stuck on the side of the road, conveniently close to Barnes Classics Restoration.

The first splutter and clunk of your engine set you on edge, but with how fast you lost power it was even more concerning – you were stuck, in a car that refused to cooperate for the few blocks it would take to get to the closest mechanic: Barnes Classics Restoration.

“Come on, please,” you begged, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. “Just get me there!”

The garage came into view not a moment later, and your car – as ever loyal and hardy as it was, choked and gave up the ghost. “No! God,” you groaned. Your phone came free from the cradle with a pull and you shoved it into your bag. “Just what I needed today, fucking hell.”

Your shoes, a beaten-up pair of Chucks, scuffed the crumbling surface of the road as you walked towards the garage where classic cars were parked on the side of the road – panels and chrome shone under the midday sun and you marvelled at the sight. You weren’t one for cars – having gotten the cheapest and safest option to get you from point A to point B – but the sheer power that seemed to just roll off from the parked vehicles gave you a small pep to your step.

It was nothing compared to what you felt when you strode up the path towards the open doors of the garage.

A couple of men were milling about, grease stained but no less attractive. What caught your eye, however, was the broad back of a tall man slumped in the engine bay of a car, his back covered in a red Henley that rippled with every movement of his shoulders. When he moved his arms into the light, you could see the dark intricate tattoos gracing his muscled and veiny forearms, and when his head appeared from the shadows of the popped hood, you couldn’t help the small, quiet gasp that left you.

The man’s hair was long, almost to his shoulders and he had a scowl etched on his face while he spoke to the blond man next to him. You clutched your bag to your side and took a few steps closer – you needed the help after all, regardless of how drop dead gorgeous or intimidating the man was.

They paid you no mind as you neared, clearly too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to a potential customer – you couldn’t tell if you were grateful or disappointed with that fact.

“Excuse me, I was wondering-” You tried, but stopped when they both looked at you suddenly. The man wearing the red Henley nodded at the blond before gesturing into the garage, and the blond strode off into the garage, tool and rag in hand.

It was hard to find the words to pinpoint what you were feeling as the full attention of the Adonis- man focused wholly on you. Stormy grey eyes searched your face and he quirked a brow in question. “How can I help you?”

Oh, his voice. You prayed that your thoughts didn’t flicker across your face at the low timbre and downright sinful tone.

“My car,” you gestured over your shoulder and the man glanced up and nodded once. “It, um–kicked the bucket, you could say, while I was making my way to you. I was headed home but I kind of can’t now. Can you take a look?”

You watched while the man looked over his shoulder, his stance changing from professional and aloof to open, welcoming. It was a relief. “Stevie!”

“Yeah?” A voice called out of the garage, and a mop of blond hair suddenly appeared from under a car. It was the man he was talking to.

“Watch my shit, I’ll be back.” The man turned back to you and smiled, holding out his hand to shake. “I’m Bucky.” His calluses were rough against your skin and you smiled back, offering your name.

Bucky gestured towards your car, and you took the lead. “So,” you began, looking over at him, taking just a second to appreciate the way the sun casted its rays down on his brown hair, and the beautiful tattoos that were visible under his rolled-up sleeves. “You’re the owner of the garage?”

“That I am, doll,” Bucky smiled, meeting your gaze. You hastened to look straight ahead; eyes only slightly wide at the endearment. Get it together! “Your car,” Bucky continued, staring ahead with narrowed eyes towards your sorry heap of machinery. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Uh–I’m not sure, it was fine the other day and then this,” you offered, watching as Bucky came to a stop at the hood and gestured for you to pop it. The sound that it made forced a deep wince to warp your expression. “That was doing that when I bought it.”

Bucky only chuckled while he pushed the hood up and secured it, and you did all you could to not stare at his arms as he did so. Oh, your friend would have your head on a platter if you did nothing, you swore on it.

The sounds of Bucky tinkering around the engine of your car filled the silence and you watched, entranced with the way he worked his hands and his strength to manipulate the many, many parts you couldn’t even begin to understand.

It took a second to realise that he had started speaking, because when you looked up, he was staring right at you with a sly smirk. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Fine,” you squeaked, and Bucky laughed. The bastard, you cursed.

“As I was saying – this should be an easy fix, though it is a lengthy one.” Bucky stood and brushed his hands on his dark jeans. “Do you have a way of getting home?”

“I can get a cab, hang on,” you said, digging in your bag but Bucky held up a hand to stop you, and you froze.

“Let me take you home,” Bucky said simply, as if there wasn’t a flock of butterflies in your stomach and your mind wasn’t on cloud nine from such a simple offer. “That way while I work on your car, I know you’ll be safe. I can come get you in the morning, too.”

Silence followed his offer while the connection to your brain and mouth caught up, you felt foolish for standing there opening and closing your mouth like a damn fish out of water. Bucky took your silence as rejection, and your heart seized at the small frown on his pretty lips. “You don’t have to, but let me walk you back, you can call a cab from the off-”

“No, no, I-” you interrupted. Your hands were trembling and you willed them to be still. “I would appreciate that, a lot.”

A blinding smile brightened Bucky’s expression and his nose scrunched. You sighed quietly, the sound covered by the creak and groan of the hood slamming down. What had you gotten yourself into?

You couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit giddy on the short walk back to the garage. Bucky, the gentleman, had continued to insist on driving you home so he knew you would be safe – and not only that, he had moved closer to you as you walked, his shoulder brushing yours occasionally while you two shared a comfortable silence.

“Where do you live, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped into the office. He pulled down a jacket and a set of nondescript keys. You offered your address and he nodded, gesturing out another door. “C’mon.”

Stevie, the blond from before caught Bucky’s attention and saluted, but Bucky waved him off while rolling his eyes. “Ignore that punk, I do.”

“Is he your friend?” You asked, falling into step beside Bucky while he led you into a small car park – it must have been for the employees only because cars in varying states of restoration filled the spaces.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky mused, chuckling. He stopped and gestured in front of him and you glanced at the car, then did a double take, your mouth falling wide open in shock. Your reaction must have sparked something because Bucky just grinned widely, a flicker of pride in his bright eyes.

“This is your car?”

“Yeah, it’s mine,” Bucky answered, and he placed a hand on your lower back to urge you towards the passenger seat.

You dug your heels in and he turned to look at you, a brow raised while that grin made your heart flutter. “It’s the car from that movie, isn’t it?”

Bucky laughed, and you found you would do anything to hear that sound again. “It isn’t the car, no, but I restored her from the ground up.” You stepped closer and placed your hand over the sloped arch of the fastback Mustang, in awe of the sleek shape and the pepper grey paint, accented by black racing stripes. Bucky brushed past you and opened the passenger door to reveal a neat leather interior. “Hop in, sweetheart. I can take you for a spin before I take you home.”

Starstruck, you walked forward and took Bucky’s offered hand while he winked. “Madame,” he said, his tone low and husky.

The interior of the car was just as beautiful as the outside – leather and chrome accents shone under the sun and you looked to the shifter, a singular white circle surrounded a red button, the words GO BABY GO etched into the finish, and you grinned. You shuffled in your seat and strapped the harness over your body as the driver’s door opened. “Bucky, this is exactly like Eleanor, I swear.”

“You are seriously one of the few people that have made that connection,” Bucky hummed, shuffling until he was comfortable, and then he strapped himself in. “Makes me all the more happy that I’m taking you home.”

“What?” You floundered, staring at him wide-eyed, your surprise a catalyst to his laughter.

“What?” Bucky repeated, shrugging. “Gotta take a pretty dame home so she’s safe, don’t I?”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, gripping the belts of the harness in shock. He was flirting – Bucky was flirting.

The keys in Bucky’s hand jingled and turned in the ignition, and the Mustang roared to life, the vibrations rattling your bones. “Alright, you ready, sweetheart?”

You stared at Bucky and he just smirked back, completely unabashed. “You are insane,” you pointed out. “You are absolutely insane.”

“Not the worst I’ve been called, doll, c’mon,” Bucky pouted, grabbing the shifter and jostling it. “I wanna take a pretty girl for a spin, you gonna let me?”

Heaven above, you were gonna melt into the leather seat if he kept staring at you like that. “Fuck it, take me for a spin, Bucky.”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky breathed, and he pumped the clutch as he put the Mustang in reverse. The engine purred with the low speed and you watched as Bucky turned the wheel with one hand, and the other shocked the shit out of you by coming to rest on your thigh. A noise of surprise left you and Bucky looked over at you sharply. “Too much?”

A sudden burst of courage flooded you and you shook your head. “Never enough,” you grinned, and Bucky laughed. You watched the garage pass by slowly and the sound of the engine echoed around the small driveway, the rumble and timbre still rattling your bones.

“Oh, hang on,” Bucky said suddenly, and the Mustang stopped just outside the front roller doors. You watched in the side mirror as Bucky’s employees gathered and pulled out their phones and pointed them towards the car. The opening notes of a song started and you gasped, gripping the belts across your chest. “What?” Bucky grinned, gripping the wheel and your thigh simultaneously. “I have to show off to the classics, don’t I?”

“Oh my god!” You cried, grinning like a fool.

Bring Sally up, and bring Sally down, lift and squat, gotta tear the ground.

The engine revved, lowered to a purr, revved again, and Bucky put his boot to the floor. The following symphony was priceless; the engine roared like a beast and the back end dipped, and before you knew it, a cloud of smoke engulfed the back of the Mustang. You heard Bucky’s feet on the pedals and the shifter clunking as Bucky tore through the gears, but only barely – blood was pumping through you and muting all sensation except for the exhilarating feeling of losing control.

Somehow, you had reached the end of the road in the blink of an eye and you gasped for breath, working through the scorching adrenaline in your veins. The engine settled to a low purr once again and you felt Bucky looking at you, his grin manic and bleeding arrogance. “You with me, doll?”

“I’m with you,” you rushed, returning his grin. “Take me home, handsome.” The prideful gleam in Bucky’s eyes gave you no cause to regret the slip of your tongue, and you settled into the seat for the drive home, heart still racing. Words escaped you for the entire drive, but the smile never left your face, nor Bucky’s.

Before long, Bucky pulled up out the front of your house, and he killed the engine with a happy sigh. “Here we are,” he said, looking at you with such a frightening softness, as though he was already fond of you – like his flirting wasn’t just a game. “Let me walk you in.”

“Okay,” you agreed shakily, and Bucky reached over to unclip your harness before he stood from the car and stretched, groaning as he stretched. Blessedly, his shirt rode up and you caught a peek of the tattoos on his lower stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you walked towards the front door of your home and Bucky followed you, and that giddy feeling returned in earnest. “I had fun, I-” You hesitated, then plunged on. “I don’t know how to thank you, Bucky. I know it was such short notice and-”

“Come get a drink with me,” Bucky interrupted, voice soft but confident. “Whatever it is you drink, and I’ll consider it all repaid,” he said, finishing with a wink. “What d’you say, doll?”

You nodded hastily, not even ashamed of the eagerness. You dug in your bag and pulled out your phone to unlock it before passing it to Bucky. “Here, give me your number, and you can text me in the morning.”

“Or tonight?” Bucky questioned, taking your phone with a cheeky smirk.

You ignored how your stomach leapt at his words, instead you smirked back. “I dunno, handsome,” you began. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed but his smirk grew, almost predatory. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, handing back your phone. “I best get back and get back to work if I want to be free tonight, I’ve got a pretty dame to talk to, after all.”

You stood on the step by your front door and watched him walk back to his Mustang, firing it up and blowing you a kiss before he tore down the road, the roar of the engine still audible even a few streets away. Curiosity gripped you like a vice and you unlocked your phone, only for his contact to be the first thing you see.

Handsome.

“Damn,” you muttered, shaking your head and grinning happily while your fingers hovered over the keyboard to text him. “I’m so doomed.”

And doomed you were.