Kitchen Worktops and a punk called Steve
Bucky knew the new girl was arriving today—another protégé of Stark. Hopefully, she’d be less annoying than Peter. He figured he’d let everyone else meet her first; nothing would make a young girl more uncomfortable than meeting the Winter Soldier right away, especially after whatever Stark had told her about him. He’d just wait until training on Monday. It’s not like he left his room much anyway. He was practically nocturnal, so he doubted they’d run into each other anytime soon.
That thought quickly crumbled when he walked into the kitchen—because there she was.
Sitting up on the counter, swinging her legs, completely at ease. And damn, those were some nice legs. He still wasn’t used to the way women dressed nowadays. She hadn't noticed him yet, but before he could stop himself, he realized he was staring.
"You look new."
Great start, Buck. Way to point out the obvious.
"Well, duh."
Oh, great. Now she had an attitude.
"Sorry, that came out mean. You’re Sergeant James Barnes, right?"
Bucky blinked. Sergeant?
Why did that sound so good when she said it? (Thank God he didn’t blush easily.)
She held out her left hand for a handshake, but his left arm was metal. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her with it, so he just left her hanging.
"Well, duh," he mimicked, then realized how much of an idiot he sounded. Before things could get worse, he cut his losses and walked out of the room.
Now back in his own room, he sat on the edge of his bed, scolding himself. Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.
And then he remembered—Steve had put the new girl in the room right across from his.
Great. Now he had new worries. What if she heard his nightmares? Or the pacing when he couldn't sleep?
This girl was going to be a problem.
A few hours later...
Steve burst into his room like an excited puppy.
"So, the new girl, Buck?" He was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in years.
"What about her, Steve?" Bucky tried to keep his face neutral. No way in hell was he letting Steve catch on to the fact that he’d been caught staring at her legs before even speaking to her.
"Be nice. You met her first after Wanda," Steve said, looking almost sympathetic.
Shit. No wonder she’d been awkward—he had probably terrified her.
"That must not have been comfortable for her," Bucky muttered.
"She seemed more embarrassed than mad at you, if that helps," Steve said, chuckling.
Bucky frowned. "I doubt that." Maybe if he kept his answers short, Steve would drop it.
No such luck.
"She’s your type," Steve mused. "And it’s—what? Three in the morning? She’s up on that computer, sitting in the dark. Maybe she can stay up late with you."
Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Oh no. You planned this. That’s why you put her room across from mine. You put her there."
Steve shrugged, all innocent. "I’m just trying to be a good wingman."
"You’re a terrible wingman," Bucky deadpanned. "And you thought Stark’s beautiful, young, high-tech genius protégé was a good idea?"
Shit. That was his opinion, right out in the open for Steve to see.
"Aha! Knew you’d like her," Steve grinned, like he had just won a bet.
Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "It’s hard not to like a woman when the first time you meet, she calls you Sergeant James Barnes."
Steve froze. "She called you Sergeant?"
"Yes, Steve." Bucky sighed, dropping his head into his hands.
"You are so screwed," Steve said gleefully. "Hopefully, that’s fuel for some sweet dreams for once. Sergeant James Barnes. I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose?"
Steve practically skipped out of the room, and Bucky threw a pillow at the door.
"You’re a punk, Steve," he called after him.
Not that it mattered. There was no way Bucky was getting any sleep tonight.