For the Love of the Game

Once inside, you were quickly supplied with more water and a change of clothes, Bucky ushering you into the bathroom and lifting you onto the counter as soon as you were dressed. You definitely could have done that by yourself. 

With another band-aid gently placed on your knee, Bucky rose to his full height. “Hands now,” he all but whispered, reaching for your wrists. 

“You don’t need to do this.” Your voice matched his. “It would’ve been fine overnight.” 

He paused, letting his thumb brush over the underside of your knuckles. He didn’t meet your eyes. “Are you gonna tell me who pushed you out of that car?” 

The heat turned on then, warm air entering the bathroom in a soft gust. You let it reach your skin before responding, goosebumps prickling your arms. 

“Tomorrow.” 

He sighed, eyes falling shut as he shook his head. “Tell me more about freshman year then. When I… when I stood you up.” 

“Uh, what about it?” He let you yank your hand away at the first touch of medicine to your palm, patiently waiting as you returned it to his tender grip. 

“Were you disappointed?” 

You let out a quick laugh, leaning your head against the mirror behind you. “Of course I was disappointed, Bucky. Have you met yourself?” He brought your left hand under the running water of the sink as you continued. “You were the first guy I was interested in at this school, so it was quite the wake up call.” 

“And since then? There’re other guys you’ve... been interested in?” He sounded strained as he spoke, and there was a slight grimace on his face. 

“Maybe some. But not in the same way.” 

His gaze snapped up from your hand in a flash. “Not in the same way?” 

“Unfortunately,” you murmured, an uncomfortable smile gracing your lips as his features seemed to burn through you. 

“I asked you something earlier—in the car,” Bucky began, dropping your hand to place both of his palms flat against your thighs. “I’m gonna ask you again.” 

You felt your heart pick up at his words. He looked so serious; his eyes were darting back and forth between yours and the muscle in his jaw ticked when you looked down at his lips. Your mouth parted to let out a breath at the intensity as his grip on your thighs tightened. 

“So ask me.” 

“Let me make it up to you, baby. Please.”

And you knew you shouldn’t, but your body was leaning across before you could stop yourself, lips pressed to his in a flurry. His surprised grunt was quickly followed by hands pressing against your waist until you were shuffled to the edge of the counter. His chest was prone to yours as he kissed you deeper and deeper, greedy touches trailing up to your cheeks. 

You’d been kissed before, but never like this. Never with fingers threading into your hair, eliciting whimpers from your throat that were met with heavier breaths and teeth pressing against your lips. Never had your hands come up to find purchase in muscular arms, the action causing a deep, yearning groan to reach your ears. And when you pulled yourself closer, legs slotted between his, Bucky let his thumb press your chin up to kiss you even more—he would always want more. 

It wasn’t until your hips met his—desperate to relieve the ache building between you—that Bucky broke the kiss. His lips trailed to the corner of your mouth in soft touches, deep breaths huffing along your neck. The thumb against your chin brushed down to the juncture of your shoulder, and his forehead moved up to press to yours. 

“I gotta do this right, doll. I gotta show you I mean it,” he whispered, hands coming up to the back of your head to shift your eyes to his. “Let me?” 

His pupils were blown—cheeks flushed and lips bruised from your own. His eyes shone with sincerity and an adoration that left your stomach dipping into unknown territory. All of this was unknown territory. 

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip as you whispered a quick okay into the air between you. You were dizzy, but it wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. 

“Tomorrow?” His question was laced with so much hope, you could hardly deny him. 

“Okay, Bucky. Tomorrow.” 

His lips turned up in a small, pained smile before he tilted your head down to place a kiss on your hairline. His next words were spoken to your skin. “Are you sure you’re okay, doll? Don’t need anything?” 

He’d asked you that so many times. 

“I think I’m okay,” you replied, hands coming up to rest on his forearms. “I’m hungry.” 

He pulled back, a playful glint in his eye for the first time that night. “I think I can handle that.” 

~~

Bucky could definitely handle that—better than you thought he could. He had you sitting on a stool in the kitchen as he worked away at the stove, flipping yet another pancake even though you insisted you’d be okay with something small. 

I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? he had quipped, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Might as well start now. 

“So where’s Sam?” you asked. A comfortable silence had found its way into the kitchen; you could hardly believe your night started out so poorly. 

“His sister asked him to watch her kids for the night. Somethin’ about a date maybe? Wasn’t really listening.” 

“It’s rude to ignore your friends, Barnes,” you smirked. 

“I was a little distracted.” He passed you a plate which you immediately dug into. His food was eerily good for not having a pre-packaged mix.

Your next words were muffled by pancakes. “Distracted by what.” 

He looked over at you, affection clear in his eyes as he took in your comfortable state. The blanket he gave you was sliding off your shoulders as you ate and your legs were swinging from the height of the stool. 

“You, mostly.” 

You swallowed hard. “Me? I wasn’t even there.” 

He shook his head fondly. “Exactly.” 

Your face burned. How did everything he say have that effect on you? When you didn’t reply, he continued. “Was really worried about you, actually. But Nat said you were studying—” he sent you an accusatory glance “—so I felt better after that. Apparently I shoulda stayed worried longer.” 

“I shouldn’t have gone,” you sighed. “It’s just that—” You paused, swirling syrup on the plate with your fork. You’d already been sufficiently embarrassed tonight, there was no need to add something else. 

“Hey,” Bucky interrupted your brooding. “Tell me.” 

“It’s stupid.” 

“Nothing could be more stupid than me forgetting about you. Tell me.” He clicked the stove off and leaned against the fridge. 

You let out a resigned sigh and kept your gaze on the floor. “You hurt my feelings. When you were embarrassed of me it hurt my feelings.” 

“God, why does everyone keep saying that?” His feet came into view before his fingers angled your face up. “Look at me, okay? I haven’t been embarrassed of you a day in my life. There’s nothing I want more than to let everyone know about you—about how amazing you are.” 

“But you—” 

“I was trying to protect you from this.” He lifted your palms, running gentle fingers over the freshly covered scrapes. “From those jackasses giving you shit. The second I realized I had feelings for you, I cut ‘em off and they weren’t happy about it. I thought you’d understand what I was doin’, but I had no idea I’d already screwed things up a few years ago. I woulda explained more if I knew.” 

“I didn’t—I mean you were acting all sketchy, how was I supposed to know?” 

He pressed his lips to your palm. “You weren’t, I wasn’t thinkin’. Y/n, I’m bad at this. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and it makes me do things. Stupid things. Like not tell you the truth about assholes ‘cause I think you’ll ditch me if you know I used to be one of ‘em.” 

“Bucky… I know you used to be an asshole.” 

“Alright, smartass,” he rolled his eyes. He took your cheeks between his hands, fingers sliding into your hair. “Listen, I’m dyin’ to make you my girl. I’m gonna prove it to you, yeah? Whatever it takes.” 

“I believe you, Bucky. You don’t have to—” 

“I’m gonna prove it,” he smiled, jostling your head a bit. 

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, taking his hands away. “Don’t shake my head, you’re going to give me a concussion with your huge hands.” 

He bit his lip to keep an even larger smile at bay. “God, I just—” He stopped himself, nodding to affirm something you couldn’t hear. His eyes never left yours. “You need to get to bed. We have plans tomorrow.” 

“I don’t have anything to wear.” You slid off the stool, placing the plate in the sink and following Bucky down the hall. 

“I’ll take you by the dorm. Maybe I’ll even make it past the door this time.”

“I don’t see why not. Nat’s at Steve’s for the day so there’s no security guard. I just need to—shit!” 

Bucky whipped around faster than you’d ever seen him move. “What? What is it?” 

“My phone! I promised Nat I’d call her when I got home from the library and it’s… oh god what time is it? I called her earlier and her phone was dead but I just know she’s going to kill me.” 

“Hey, calm down. We’ll call her from my phone, yeah?” 

“That’s worse! She’s going to know I lied and she’s scary when you lie.” 

“Doll, I hate to say it, but she’s gonna find out anyway. Your hands are all torn up and your phone’s still lost,” he admitted, reaching over to pull the collar of his sweater further up your shoulders. 

You let out an indignant huff. “Can I borrow your phone?” 

“‘Course you can, c’mon.” 

And so you found yourself, sitting on Bucky’s bed with Nat’s voice ringing through the speakers, Bucky sending you sympathetic glances from beside you. You had only been on the phone for a minute, but a minute was long enough for a Romanoff to get their point across. 

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was? When you didn’t call, I was about to have Steve drive me around New York to find you! Your location’s off by the way. Did you decide that was a good idea as well?” 

“Natasha—” 

“And then I get a call from Bucky? I thought he was going to tell me you were dead, y/n. Dead! I swear to god, you have just absolutely lost your common sense these past few weeks.” 

“I’m sorry! I know—” 

“No! You don’t talk, you got that? You can talk when I don’t feel like strangling you. Put Bucky on the phone.” 

Without so much as a whisper, you passed the phone to him with wide eyes. He took it from you with a grimace. “It’s Bucky.” 

You couldn’t make out a single thing she was saying, but the yelling was loud enough to make Bucky wince. 

“I know, Nat… No, she’s gonna sleep in my room… I’ll be on the couch… She’s fine, I swear…. Yes, I know she’s allergic to that… I’m not gonna do anything—no, you don’t need to get Steve… Okay, great… Okay, bye.” 

“Well?” you asked, body tense. 

“I think we’re good?” 

You let out a relieved breath that was quickly overturned by nervous fidgeting. “Uh, are you… are you really going to sleep on the couch? In your own apartment?” 

“I told you I was gonna do this right, doll. I gotta sleep on the couch.” His hand came to rest on your leg.

You fumbled with his fingers. “Not if we just sleep.” 

He watched as your hopeful eyes looked up to meet his. He couldn’t say no to you; the second you brought it up, the subtle request was already set in stone. He’d give you anything. 

“You can’t tell Nat.” 

The smile you gave him was worth it. He’d let Nat ‘end him’, as she said on the phone, if it meant you looking at him like that forever. 

“I’m very good at keeping secrets.” 

He raised a brow at you. “Apparently.” 

You rolled your eyes, walking around the bed to pull back his blankets and get comfortable. You were surprised by his bedroom just as much as his cooking; everything looked put together and coordinated—nothing like you expected. Maybe things were different when he was partying every day. 

He quickly fell into bed beside you, careful not to look too eager. But he was eager. He wanted to feel your body against his as his heartbeat lulled you to sleep. His fingers were itching to stroke down your back as he counted your breaths, just as he imagined. He’d pictured it many times. 

But as you laid beside him, shuffling in the blankets to find a good position, he was frozen. Your hair was still mused from the events of the night, and your makeup had been washed off in his sink, but you were so beautiful he was frozen. He’d never spent the night with a girl before, let alone with you. God, he was nervous. 

And of course, you noticed. You noticed how stiff he was, stuck on the edge of the queen sized bed. He looked as if he would bolt at any sign of your discomfort, his preoccupation with ‘doing things right’ keeping him from getting a good night’s sleep. This wasn’t exactly what you wanted. 

“It’s cold,” you affirmed, breaking the awkward silence of the room. 

Bucky shot up immediately. “Let me turn the heat up for you.” 

“No, Bucky. I’m just cold. Over here.” 

“You’re—Oh! Oh.” He pulled himself back down just as quickly, making his way over to you with hesitancy. 

When he reached you, his arms wound around your body, one sliding under your head while the other went around your stomach to pull you closer. He had your back to his chest with his legs carefully tangled with yours. Everything he did was timid. 

“Is this better?” His breath puffed against the hair on the back of your head. This man had made out with you in the bathroom earlier, but holding you was making him lose his mind. 

“This is perfect.” 

He seemed to relax at that, body melting into yours. He nestled his chin into your neck and squeezed you just a little tighter; it felt like a reality check. His fingers were brushing at the sliver of skin exposed by his sweater riding up, the motions causing your lashes to flutter closed. 

But Bucky didn’t know you took a little while to fall asleep, your mind always in overdrive even after such a strenuous night. Because after several minutes of your evened out breaths filling the room, you caught a whisper against your neck—a whisper you surely weren’t meant to hear. They were the same words you let slip at the party, but these were clearer and more absolute. These words were practiced. 

You were right; this was perfect.

~~ 

“And you’re sure he said it was okay to use his car?” 

“‘Course he did, doll. You heard me on the phone this morning, didn’t you?” 

You had heard him on the phone, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to Sam. It was a pretty long conversation—a lot longer than it would take to ask about a car. 

You had woken up alone, the blankets beside you curled up to your chin, the blinds cracked to illuminate the wrinkles in the sheets. You laid there for a while, fingers wiggling through the strips of light as you tried to make out the low, muffled voice of Bucky in the other room. He came slinking in a few minutes later, cracking the door quietly until he saw you were already awake. 

Damn, he whispered. Was tryna get back before you woke up. 

With a quick kiss to your forehead, he had you up and walking down the steps to his apartment in a flash. He hadn’t fully kissed you again since your stunt in the bathroom. You figured that was a conscious choice; you could see the way his gaze would flit down to your lips each time you spoke, as if remembering the feel of them against his own. 

You thought he might’ve been taking you to breakfast, the crisp Saturday morning a perfect backdrop for orange juice and gentle touches. But then he took you through a drive-thru, ordering you a coffee and a quick meal and you were instantly lost. Of course, he refused to tell you his plans. 

You tried again. “Can I at least have a hint?” 

“We’re gonna be there soon,” he laughed. “How was your coffee?” 

“Don’t change the subject.” You pointed a finger at him, which he immediately took and brought down to his lap, grasping your hand in his own. 

“I’m not! It was an honest question.” 

He let his thumb brush the back of your hand as he spoke. It sent you reeling. “You’re trying to distract me and it’s not working.” 

His smirk was damning. “I’m not tryna do anything.”

“Yes you are! With your hands and your stupid coffee.” 

“If you thought the coffee was stupid, I coulda got you somethin’ else, baby.” 

You could feel your chest warming at his words, already too flustered to form a better response. You yanked your hand from his playfully, an act he very much didn’t appreciate. 

“Aw, c’mon. You’re not gonna let me hold your hand?” he jested, slapping his chest dramatically. 

“Maybe if I knew where we were going, I’d want to hold your hand.” 

“Fine, look.” He pointed ahead, the stadium you’d been to hundreds of times coming into view. “Can I hold your hand now?” 

You sent him a confused look. “What are we doing here? There’s nothing going on today.” 

“Maybe if you were holding my hand, I'd want to tell you.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping your hand into his with a suggestive look. You regretted it soon after, the band-aid Bucky placed on your palm this morning doing little to protect against the impact. You kept a straight face to get your point across. 

“Thank you.” He kissed your knuckles. “But I’m still not telling ya.” 

You groaned as he pulled into the parking lot, grabbing a spot usually filled by the time you got there. He kept his grip tight as he tugged you through the domed halls, your footsteps echoing off the postered walls. It was weird to be there when it was so empty; it made your stomach bubble up with excitement when Bucky gave you a quick, elated glance. 

He stopped in front of the locker rooms, unlocking the door with a key he probably shouldn’t have. At his locker, he flung out a few items before pulling back and slamming it shut, his arms filled. 

“You ready?” he beamed. 

You gave him an incredulous look. “Ready for what, Bucky?” 

He shifted his arms a bit, yanking a hat from the bottom of the pile. “Well, doll.” He secured the hat on your head, tapping your chin lightly on the way down. “You remember the last time you tried to pitch?” 

“You mean a year ago? When I got my foot stuck under the rubber?” you laughed. 

He hummed in agreement. “Well, I’m gonna teach you how to do it right.” 

“Bucky, I’m going to suck. There’s a reason I’m here on a pre-med scholarship.” 

“Everyone’s gotta start somewhere,” he proclaimed, guiding you out to the field. “And I’m a great coach.”

“Have you ever even coached anyone?” 

“Not yet. But I’ve been playin’ since I was six, so I figure I got it down.” 

You awarded him with a joyful laugh, his head tilting back from ahead of you to catch the wrinkles by your eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d gone years without this. He couldn’t believe you’d been here all this time, with your laugh and your smile and your wit—completely perfect and he’d never noticed. He couldn’t picture his life without you now. 

You reached the mound, Bucky handing you one of the gloves in his arms and dropping a bucket of balls by your feet. The wind was brisk against your face; it tinged Bucky’s nose pink and made his fingers cold as he tucked some of your hair further into the hat. 

You didn’t mind. 

“Alright. You might not get it all the way to the plate at first, so for now, we’ll just focus on not getting stuck in the dirt.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay, okay. Sorry, no more jokes. Watch me do it first, okay?” 

You stepped back, watching as he pulled his arm back, his whole body pushing into the force. You’d seen him do this plenty of times before, but never up close. His wrist snapped so effortlessly and his feet slid across the dirt in a dance that’d be ingrained into his muscle memory forever. You broke your gaze with the sound of a ball hitting the backboard. 

You hadn’t been paying attention to his form at all. 

“Think you could do that?” 

“Yes.” Probably not. 

“Alright,” he smiled, handing you a ball. “Go ahead, doll.” He stepped off the mound, crossing his arms with a glint in his eye as he watched you maneuver yourself to the top of the hill. 

You sent him an unsure glance and rolled the ball along the net of the glove. You lined up to the side as you’d seen Bucky do, angling your hips in an awkward position. Your feet felt uncomfortable against the rubber as you attempted to find a good footing. 

“Here, baby, like this.” Bucky met you at the top, strong hands firm on your hips and he pushed you into the position he wanted. His words tickled your ear as he spoke. “You gotta twist when you throw it. It’ll add more force.” 

Your breath came out in shaky puffs. “What about my leg?” 

“When you pull it up,” he began, gripping the outside of your thigh. “Bring your arms down. It’s like a wind-up.” His hand slid back up to your waist, nose nudging behind your ear. “You got that?” 

“You’re distracting me again.” 

“Now why would I want to do that? This is my big coaching debut—I’ve got a lot to prove.” 

You turned your head to meet his gaze, noses brushing. “If you’re banking on me being a success story, you better find someone else. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there that’d love Bucky Barnes coaching them. Maybe you could start a team.” 

“I’m pretty happy with my team right now,” he whispered. His eyes moved down to your lips for one fleeting second before he squeezed at your waist, turning you back into position. “Remember what I said. Show me what you got.” 

More flustered than ever, you shook your head out and threw the ball. It was awful, just as expected. Bucky’s “coaching” hadn’t helped. 

“That’s alright, baby. Go again.” 

You huffed. “Buck, if I keep throwing these, we're going to have to chase all over the field to get the damn balls.” 

His face lit up. “We might need a catcher then, don’t you think?” 

“You offering?” 

“And leave you up here alone? No way, doll, gotta be able to distract ya.” He jogged to the fence on the other side of the field, the dugout hiding his body for a few quick minutes. “Got you a catcher!” you heard him call. 

If you hadn’t already been surprised by this entire morning, seeing Bucky walk back on the field with the school’s Bobcat mascot might’ve made you let out a gasp. Instead, an unexpected laugh bubbled past your lips. 

“Bucky, what the hell?” you giggled, watching as the new addition to the field ran to home plate. “Who is that?” 

He rejoined you, his hand sliding across your back. “What do you mean? That’s Bobcat, the team’s mascot. You’ve seen him plenty of times.” 

“Bucky, who’s inside?” 

“That’s classified information, doll. Now square your hips and chuck the ball at him,” he beamed down at you. 

You shook your head, but complied, the next few throws just as bad as the first. At least someone was throwing them back now. Whoever was inside that costume had the good sense to throw the balls back to Bucky as well, and he had good form. It was definitely someone you knew, but their height didn’t give anything away. 

Bucky sent you cheerful encouragement from his position beside the mound, but it was clear this was amusing him. You had the mascot running from side to side, attempting to catch the balls you threw in every direction. The smile on your face was beginning to hurt from how wide it was; Bucky’s laughs made you forget about the night before—the bad parts anyway. 

“Alright, let’s call it a day, doll. Bobcat over there looks about ready to pass out.” He jutted his thumb out to the furry lump collapsed on the floor. “You can clean this up, right Parker?” 

“Peter?” you exclaimed, watching as the head was yanked off to reveal the exhausted freshman. 

He sent a halfhearted thumbs up into the air. “No problem, Bucky.” 

“Peter I—Bucky, we can’t leave him to clean all this up,” you laughed, exasperated. 

Bucky threw an arm around your shoulder, shuffling you off the field. “I’m payin’ him $20, he’s fine.” 

“Is that who you were on the phone with this morning?” 

He leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek. “One of ‘em.” 

“Well, I had fun,” you began, the place where his lips touched tingling. “Thank you, Buck. You really—” 

“Oh, I’m not done.” He opened your car door, flipping the hat off your head and tossing it in the backseat. “We’re not doin’ exactly what I wanted, but I hope you like it still.” 

“And what did you want to do?” you asked, turning to him as he settled in the driver’s side. He looked embarrassed at that, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Well, I called Nat this morning. Got her to tell me the restaurant I was supposed to take you to freshman year. But I called and they had no openings for the day—wouldn’t exactly take $20 like Parker.” 

“Oh, Bucky. You didn’t have to do that. I’ve never even eaten there, I just figured you’d like it.” 

He groaned. “Don’t say that. Every time you talk about that night I feel like I’m gonna hurl.” 

“I’m serious,” you chuckled. “I don’t even know what food they serve there. I just wanted to impress you.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, swiping your hand from your lap and putting the car in drive. “God, I don’t deserve you.” 

~~

He had you stumped again. 

Bucky had been showing you all over Brooklyn for quite a while, stopping at random food carts and small businesses because you just had to see them. He couldn’t believe you’d lived in the city this long and hadn’t been to the bookstore on Dekalb Ave. You could; the place was impossibly hidden. 

You could sense he was stalling. He kept checking his phone screen for the time—a luxury you didn’t have—and gripping your shoulders to move to a new location. It wasn’t until the sun began to drop below the tops of the Brooklyn buildings that your car ride became much longer. The final destination, you hoped. 

“Listen, doll.” Bucky had begun to tap his fingers on the steering wheel a few minutes ago, a nervous habit. “I really wanted to show you that you’re important to me—that I care about you. I know it seems like I’ve just been draggin’ you all over Brooklyn, but I gotta reason.” 

“No, I had fun, Bucky. Really,” you encouraged, attempting to quell his incessant nerves. 

“Good, good, I’m glad. But the real I did it is comin’ up over there.” He pointed out to a distant lot. “I uh, I called my Ma this morning, while you were sleeping.” 

“You seem to have made a lot of phone calls.” 

He sent you a nervous smile. “Needed it to be perfect. Anyway, I called her to ask where my Pa took her on their first date. They’ve been together for a long time—about 27 years. I know my old man would beat me over the head if he knew how I’d been actin’. He always raised me to be respectful and all that.” 

Your brows shot up. “You don’t listen very well, do you?” 

“I know, I know. But I figured what better way to start doin’ things right than to take you to where my folks fell in love? Not that we have to fall in love—I just meant that he seemed to know what he was doin’ and my Ma said girls love drive-in movies. Don’t think I’m pressurin’ you or anything because—” 

“Bucky,” you placed a calming hand on his. “I think a drive-in movie sounds great. I didn’t even know there were any near the city.” 

He let out a relieved breath. “Okay… okay yeah. It’s just a little ways up. Only plays old movies though. From the 40s I think.” 

Bucky had already won you over on the field this morning, but his anxious explanation had you falling for him even more. He called his mom. He held you all night and woke up before the sun so he could call his mom and get advice. 

And when he mentioned how long his parents had been together, you just about kissed him right there. He saw a future with you; he wanted to do things like his parents because he saw you as his future. He wanted to fall in love and be married for 27 years and have kids who didn’t listen to him. He wanted you. 

Your prejudice had blinded you before; Bucky’s reputation had held him back. 

“And what do you know about 40s movies?” you asked, whole body warm with affection—with excitement. 

“Oh, I know tons. Big 40s guy over here,” he drawled. His accent was particularly strong tonight, a side effect of spending the entire day in Brooklyn. 

“You’ll have to catch me up to speed then. I haven’t seen very many.” 

“I’ll do my best,” he winked, pulling up to pay the teller at the entrance. 

He drove Sam’s car along the bumps of the lot, finding the perfect spot up at the front. The screen ahead was worn and discolored and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same screen his parents looked up at before their date all those years ago. If his mom was as nervous as you were sitting beside a Barnes with their floppy hair and charming smiles. You suspected she was. 

You felt Bucky’s gaze on your profile before he spoke up, the movie slowly starting on the screen. “You uh, you look really beautiful by the way. Don’t think I’ve told you that.” 

“Bucky, I changed in ten minutes this morning and I still have hat hair from the field,” you laughed, but you felt the heat on your face anyway. 

“Doesn’t matter to me. Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

You turned to meet his glowing gaze, the black and white film illuminating the planes of his face. “Well, you’re pretty beautiful, too, you know. Probably why you’re so popular.” 

He smiled. “I’m the one tryna win you over, doll. You already got me wrapped around your finger—flattery isn’t necessary.” 

“Oh, wrapped around my finger?” Your tone was teasing. “Wonder what I could make you do then.” 

“I’d do anything.” 

There was a lightness to his words, but his eyes bore through you with such sincerity you felt your breath leave you. The movie’s dramatic, melancholy music slowly trickled through the car as Bucky’s eyes dipped down to your lips, once—twice. 

If he’d do anything, you knew just what you’d ask for. 

“Kiss me then.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

It was slower this time. His hand came out to gently brush across your cheek with undying adoration before he leaned in. His eyes were tracing over your face before your lips met, mapping out the high points of your brows and the delicate tip of your nose. It was a longing gaze; a longing he would soon remedy. 

And when you finally touched—a sigh you didn’t know you were holding shakily making its way out between bodies—Bucky smiled against your lips. A quick smile soon overshadowed by the way his hands pulled you closer, but it ignited a rush beneath your skin you’d never forget. 

Because Bucky’s smile was unforgettable, and now you’d had a taste of it on your lips. 

He pulled away much sooner than you’d like, the feel of him still impressed upon your skin. “That’s how I shoulda kissed you the first time.” 

Your laugh was a breeze between you, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “I liked them both.” 

“I’ll give you as many as you want.” Another soft press to your lips. “For as long as you’ll let me.” 

“Be careful what you wish for, Barnes,” you teased. 

“I love you.” 

It was quick, unplanned. You didn’t even think he meant to say it, but the way his eyes were intensely trained on you proved that to be incorrect. He meant to say it, just maybe a little later in the night. 

You opened your mouth to respond, eyes wide in astonishment, when he beat you to the punch. “Don’t say anything right now. I just saved you from an awful night and then told you my parents’ great love story before I kissed the life outta you. Your judgment might be clouded.” He brushed his nose to yours. “Tell me how you feel after a few weeks. After I’ve made you mad again and after you’ve met my Ma. She has some stories to tell ya, I bet.” 

You pulled back a bit, shaking your head in disbelief. You already knew you loved him. You’d tell him right now if it weren’t for the conviction on his face. But he seemed very adamant that you didn’t say anything until you were very sure, so instead, you just nodded your head. 

“Alright, but if you wanna meet my Ma, you gotta say you’ll be my girl.”