For the Love of the Game

“Still woulda been nice to let me know! I’m glad you got the girl, Buck, but you left a bunch of empty water bottles in my damn cup holders!” 

“Can you two shut up? I’m trying to focus.”

“Oh shove it, Tony. You’re not even warming up,” Bucky called back. 

Tony opened his eyes from his seat in the grass. “I’m meditating, dipshit. Pepper says it’s good for centering yourself.” 

“Thor!” Sam yelled. “Come remove this garden gnome from the field. I need the extra space and you’re the one with the big arms.” 

“Why is my assistance needed?” Thor asked, turning away from his warm up with Pietro. 

“I need you to pick this guy up, and toss him as far as you can.” 

“Hey!” Tony barked. “You just watch. This is gonna be my best game yet and then all you uncentered idiots are gonna be lining up to ask me—” 

“Super strange that none of you are actually warming up over here,” Steve interrupted, returning from the coin toss between teams. “We’re batting first by the way. Fury put the line up on the fence. Get set up.” 

The team obliged, all jogging over to the dugout. Bucky stayed back a bit with his eyes still glued to the seat you should’ve been taking up. You said you were going to be five minutes late at the most. The game was going to start any minute now. 

“What’s got you all antsy?” Steve asked. 

Bucky barely glanced his way. “Y/n’s still not here. I’m not hovering or anything, but last time this happened I had to go pick her up all bruised on the side of the road.” 

“Well, last time she wasn’t your girlfriend and you were still in your ‘let’s piss her off and make bad decisions’ stage.” 

“Ha ha, very funny.” He pushed Steve’s arm in jest. “Seriously though, I’m a little worried about her.” 

“Give her a quick call then,” Steve offered. “We have a few minutes until we bat and you’re not first on the lineup. I’m sure she just ran into some traffic.” 

“Yeah… yeah good idea.” 

In truth, you probably were just stuck in traffic and Bucky was being overly paranoid, but everything had been going so well between the two of you and he wanted to keep that up. 

The weeks following your first date had been pure bliss for him. All of the things he longed for—even just the small things—had fallen into his lap now that you trusted him. The smiles in between classes. The hugs after games. The silent brushes and sweet kisses in dim light and his favorite, right in the sun. Even the way you looked at him drove him crazy. 

Because you were his. 

You hadn’t told him that you loved him yet. That was mainly because he hadn’t let you. Each time it looked like you were about to, Bucky would smother your mouth in a kiss and leave you dazed. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to hear it—god, did he want to hear it—but he wanted you to say it when you were sure. When you were so sure that you were just bursting, eyes gleaming and smile so wide it hurt your cheeks. 

Like how his Ma looked at his Pa. 

And even though you looked at him like he hung the moon most days, you didn’t look like that yet. But he was willing to wait; Bucky was a very patient man. 

Except for when he didn’t know where you were. 

Bucky dug through his baseball bag back in the dugout, pushing aside sunflower seeds and bat weights to get to his phone. When he found it, he was slightly perturbed by the texts on the screen. 

Just parked!

Got Peter to walk me in! You look cute out there ;) 

Those were sent twenty minutes ago. Bucky’s obsessive staring told him that you definitely hadn’t been to your seat for the better part of ten minutes. Well, that just tied his stomach into knots. 

Why aren’t you in your seat doll? You okay? 

He waited three minutes, but didn’t get a response. 

He knew he shouldn’t leave right before a game, but his cleats were bounding around the fence before he could stop himself. He’d just take a small peek around to make sure you were close by. He’d check the snackbar maybe, or just take a quick lap around the upper level of the stadium. 

Snackbar was a bust. He could have guessed as much; you were tired of the stadium snacks just as much as the pizza from the sports bar. He’d been shoving the food you did like into your bag on game days. You always insisted that you were fine, but he had to make sure to take care of his best girl. 

You weren’t on the upper level either, and he was starting to get a little nervous. Did you leave? Surely you would’ve told him. Maybe the bathroom? Or maybe you left something in your car? 

Knowing that his time was running out, Bucky made for the field again. He would ask Nat or Wanda on his way down; they would know where you were. Just before he hit the stairs to the bottom level, he heard your voice. 

“—so you should just leave.” 

“I already told you I’m not going to leave. I just want to talk to him for a few minutes.” Rage filled Bucky’s chest. He knew that voice.

“You’re an idiot then. I’ve been trying to keep him from talking to you for weeks. You’re not going to like the outcome.” 

“How would you know anything, huh? You screw around with him a few times and think you mean something? I can name twenty girls in your position; Barnes isn’t too classy in that department.” 

Bucky walked faster. 

Your laugh was dry. “I guess I didn’t make myself clear at your dumb party, Zemo. You don’t know the first thing about Bucky, so you can go ahead and keep your dirty, slimy mouth shut about him, got it?” 

“I’ll keep my mouth shut just as soon as you close your legs.” 

Bucky saw red. Why was this hallway so long? All he wanted was to get to you and tug you away from that asshole. The one that set you up and advocated for you to get in that car with that drunk driver and almost—

He took a deep breath to steady himself. Every time he thought about what happened, he got worked up. You’d been hesitant to tell him for that very reason, but on a night when the rain beat down on the metal stairs of his fire escape, he wrapped you in blankets and forced it out of you. 

He could still remember your shifting eyes and the way you fit your head into the crook of his neck. His hands found a permanent home on the back of your head, his continuous caresses grounding him. He had been breathing heavily, and you had to pry his phone out of his hands before he could make a very damaging, very provoking phone call. 

But your soft voice and gentle hands had reminded him that you were fine now; that there was no reason to get involved with those people if he didn’t need to.

You weren’t exactly calming him down this time. 

~~

Warm hands dropped on your shoulders, startling you out of the glare you had turned up at Zemo. They were Bucky’s hands; you had memorized their touch. 

“Is there a fucking problem here?” You had never heard that inflection in his tone—the gruff rage deep within his chest. 

Zemo’s mouth twitched. “Ah, Bucky. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, but no luck. Figured this was the best place.” 

“Best place to what? Piss me off?” 

“The best place to convince you to drop this stupid act. You need me, Barnes. Without me you’re just some poor kid from Brooklyn who got lucky with a scholarship. You’re trash and I made you better. I made—” 

You pulled against Bucky’s hold, but he wouldn’t let up. You opened your mouth to scream at Zemo—to tell him he was wrong and he needed to leave before you pummeled him into the ground—but Bucky’s lips lowered to your ear. 

“It’s fine, doll. I got you,” he whispered. He straightened up and directed his voice outwards. “I don’t really give a damn what you think about me, Zemo. Hell, you might even be right. But here’s the thing.” He pushed you back, stepping chest to chest with Zemo. “If you think I would ever even consider speaking to you after what you did to my girl, well—you’re just asking for me to beat your ass.” 

He had a good few inches on Zemo, and a much more muscular body. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Bucky would win if they fought. And he would do it if you asked him to. He would do it the second you breathed the word please. But the game was starting soon, and you didn’t feel like dealing with security. 

“Bucky,” you softly called. Zemo’s breath was coming out in uneven puffs. The announcers were getting the crowd warmed up. “Buck, the game’s about to start. I wanted to watch.” 

You reached over and placed a delicate hand on his wrist, thumb pressing to his pulse. It was erratic. You tugged a little, but Bucky had more to say. 

“You talk to her again, and I promise you, Zemo, you’re gonna regret it. Pass that along to Beck too. Since he’s the one I’d really like to have a chat with.” He pushed against Zemo’s chest, enough to send him stumbling back a few paces. He looked ready to throw up. “Oh, and coming here? Not your best move. You pissed off the entire team, messing with one of our own. Back the fuck off.” 

Anger rippling off his body in waves, Bucky turned back to you and chucked his arm over your shoulders, lips pressed roughly to your temple. “He do anything to you?” 

You guided him down the stairs, leaving Zemo dazed and thoroughly threatened. “Besides being his lovely self? No.” 

“I’m bein’ serious, baby.” 

“Me too,” you affirmed. You stopped him on the last step and cradled his face in your hands. “I’m good, Bucky. And you’re good. And Steve’s going to be so pissed because I’m pretty sure they already did the national anthem and you weren't on the field.” 

You could see his anger start to fade, relaxation settling deep into his expression. It made your chest swell with pride knowing that you did that for him. That he found a home in you and he would burrow within it until he was so filled with comfort he could barely breathe. This would be the perfect time to tell him you loved him, but you knew he would just stop you. 

“Ah, I don’t know. Steve’s kinda a push over when it comes to you girls. Pretty sure he’d call off a game if one of you asked.” 

You giggled as he nudged his nose to your cheek. “I don’t think he has that kind of authority.” 

The intercom croaked overhead, the lineup for the opposing team already starting to blare through the speakers. 

“Buck!” you rushed. “You’re supposed to be on the field!” You pushed at his stomach, trying to pry him off of you. 

“Okay, okay. Lemme kiss my girl first.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips already peppering yours with quick, sweet touches. They weren’t passionate, but they were Bucky’s, and they were yours. He moved to your cheeks next, and then your nose, and then your forehead. You were a giggling mess as you tried to push him away a second time. 

“You said kiss! That means one. I’m not responsible for Steve’s wrath when you miss the introductions.” Your words held absolutely no heat. 

“Okay, just one more.” He kissed you. “And make sure you get to your seat.” He kissed you again. “Don’t need you trying to fist fight anymore assholes while I’m tryin’ to play ball.” 

“You were the one about to fight!” 

He ran past the fence line. “I love ya, doll.” 

This man was trying to kill you. 

~~

“I don’t blame ‘em,” Nat scoffed. It was only the second inning, and the boys were up by three runs. 

“Oh, so you’re telling me you would have fought Zemo in the middle of a crowded stadium?” you quipped back. Your feet were resting on the empty seat in front of you. 

Wanda spoke up this time. “We could’ve all ganged up on him—the three of us. I bet we’d win.” 

“Sure, yeah. Then we can all go to jail for assault. Fun bonding day for us girls,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Y/n,” Nat deadpanned. “He pushed you out of a car.” 

“Ah! He didn’t push me out of a car. Beck did.” 

“Oh, wonderful! We can kill both of them.” 

“Natasha.” 

“No, no, I agree with her.” Wanda casually tossed a pretzel into her mouth. “Death for both.” 

You groaned. No one was happy about what happened that night. You were pretty sure once Bucky told the guys Zemo had shown up, there was going to be a picture of the guy pinned to the security desk with the word BANNED in bolded red letters. Either that or they were going to make Peter keep lookout while he was on the bench. 

But in all honesty, you were more than fine at this point. That party, while wholly one of the worst nights of your life, had brought you to something you’d never take back. It brought you Bucky—the clarity of who he was now. 

It brought you his laugh when he called you at night and his warmth when he held you as it rained. It brought you his softness and his anger and his love. It brought you his family; his Ma’s melodic voice as she greeted you in her doorway and his Pa’s rough pat on the back. But most of all, it just brought you to him. 

And you weren’t sure what it was going to take for him to let you say you loved him, but you were willing to wait. Because this Bucky you had found, he was worth the wait. 

“Well,” you sighed. “He left. So there won’t be any killing today. Sorry, ladies.” 

They both whined, throwing their heads back in dramatics, and you had to laugh. Not only at them, but just in joy. It felt like everything was good. Before all this—before Bucky—you were content. You had your friends, and school, and you found joy in the small things. You liked that the dining hall always had enough of your favorite juice, and the library had this corner that you loved to study in, and sometimes the wind blew just right and you could hear the trees rustle from your dorm. 

But after Bucky, it was as if everything was amplified. He would join you in that corner of the library and suddenly you had no idea how you’d been there alone before; how you hadn’t thought it the most dull place on campus without his bright smile and constant pestering. 

And the trees still rustled, but now they were accompanied by Bucky’s soft breath in your ear, lulling you to sleep. You didn’t know how you had missed it before—how the trees had sounded full before him. 

Of course, there was the topic of the juice. The stupid truth you were made privvy to that, no, the dining hall didn’t always have it. Bucky just made sure it did. For you. Always for you. 

So you had to sit there at your boyfriend's baseball game and laugh with your friends because your life felt so perfect. You didn’t care if a pair of rich low-lives laughed at you behind closed doors, because your doors held love and warmth and Bucky. And you knew he felt the same way. 

“Hey, you know if they’re playing the guys’ press videos today? I think I heard Fury mention it last week,” Wanda asked. 

“Hm, I’m not sure. We’re closing in on the playoffs, so maybe.” Nat had that glint in her eye again; the glint that meant she knew something. 

You shuffled back in your seat. You hadn’t watched the press tapes this year. They were in production in the midst of your fight with Bucky, and you hardly wanted to watch a video of him at the time. The videos were mostly superficial anyway; just a collection of their goals for the future and what they thought their strengths and weaknesses were that year. 

Although Bucky always found a way to make his videos about his party life somehow. 

You hoped his feelings were far enough along to have not done that again this year.

Music blasted through the speakers, startling you into dropping your drink onto the stadium floor. “What the hell?” 

Peter Parker’s face was then plastered on the jumbotron—some professional picture along with his name and position on the bottom. A video played next. He looked very uncomfortable. 

“I think I just wanna try my best, you know? Being with such a great team can be a little scary, but I’m looking forward to carrying my weight. I’ve never dropped a ball! They stick to me like glue.” 

So they were playing the press videos today. 

“God, do you think they could’ve done without the music? I’m going to have this ringing in my ear for days,” you complained. 

Nat quickly shushed you. “I’m trying to watch.” 

You grumbled back, still lightly massaging your ear. “You were literally there. You already know what they all said.” 

She shushed you again, this time accompanied by Wanda. 

“Whatever you jerks. I’ll just be deaf then.” 

Tony’s video went next. He talked about his innovation being a contribution to the team and how he was the best. The usual. Then Pietro went, then Sam. Thor’s video made you laugh a little; his tie was askew and he looked cheerful as ever. 

“I know this year we will crush our enemies—sorry, our opponents. I have been told to call them that. But it does not matter what we call them, because they will be crushed anyway! I will do so myself.” 

A few other players went next, each video played between innings as the teams switched off. Bucky had glanced up at you a few times, sending you a wink or one of his smiles. Each time it sent heat up through your stomach and into your chest. You didn’t think you would ever get used to him looking at you like that. 

He had been doing it for a while though. You just hadn’t noticed. 

Steve’s video seemed very planned out and practiced—ever the captain—although you knew he probably thought of his words on the spot. He talked about their actual stats instead of his opinions, and then highlighted each of his teammates' assets that they would be bringing to the table. 

At the end, he signed off with a quick “and of course, I do it all for my best girl.” Nat scoffed—like she did every year—but you could see the slight blush on her cheeks. She was a softie underneath all that Russian spy nonsense. 

The next inning dragged on forever. Maybe it wasn’t actually long, but since you knew Bucky’s video was next, it felt like a century. Part of you was worried it would be bad again; that you would have to endure another stupid video about how he was “spending his time wisely” and “keeping his options open”, but you remembered how adamant he had been that you watched it. It couldn’t be bad then, right? 

The music startled you again, and this time you met Bucky’s eyes as he was tossing his helmet off in the dugout. He gave you a bashful smile; he obviously knew it was his turn. Nat slapped you in the arm, pulling your gaze from Bucky’s just to see him again on the big screen. 

The Bucky on the screen looked a little ragged. You could remember him looking like that during the days you refused to talk to him—tired, pale, maybe a little hopeless. But this Bucky had a bit of determination to him as well. Like he was certain about something. 

“Well, I mean this team’s always got it on lock. We got a great coach behind us, a great captain. As long as we put our heads together and do what we always do, the season’s ours.” 

The obligatory questions first. He always answered those the same. 

“I think Parker’s a great new addition. Kid’s quick and weirdly agile. I’m excited to work with him.” 

You heard a crash from the dugout, and could make out an excited “you really mean that?”. That was followed by an “alright, kid, don’t make me take it back.” 

You smiled as a new question displayed on the screen. You usually hated this one. 

“I know what you guys all expect me to say, ‘cause I say the same thing every year, right? Hang out and live life to the fullest. Maybe get a little crazy on the weekends—within reason,” he covered. 

He obviously couldn’t outright talk about his habits in front of the entire school. Your heart dipped a little. It seemed like the same answer as usual, just maybe a little jaded this time. 

The team started to make their way onto the field in front of you. Bucky threw the first few practice pitches; they were a little shaky. 

“This year’s a little different. Sorta met this girl—or really, have known this girl—and she’s turned me around I guess. Wanna start doin’ things different for her. Uh, so this one really goes out to her. I bet my playing will be better this season because of her, and maybe she’ll stick around and make it better in the future too. You know, when I go pro.” 

You felt a delighted laugh bubble up in your chest. The answer was messy and awkward, but it was also during the most unstable period of your relationship and yet he still said all of that knowing it would be broadcasted in front of thousands of people. 

You almost couldn’t breathe past the feeling in your throat. You weren’t sure if it was a sob or a laugh, but the surprise surging through your body wouldn’t allow either to come out. The smile on your face didn’t register as you turned your head down to the field. 

Bucky was avoiding eye contact apparently. He still had a good few minutes until the other team was ready to bat, but he resigned himself to throwing pitches he definitely didn’t need to be throwing and digging his toe into the dirt. 

With this feeling in your chest, that just wouldn’t do. 

You bounded down the few steps leading to the fence and leaned against it, fingers gripping between metal. 

“James!” you called.

He whipped his head around quick enough to give him whiplash. He looked like he was in trouble. “Yeah, doll?” 

“Come here.” The first few people in the stands could definitely hear you two shouting at each other. You didn’t really care. 

He jogged over with a hesitant smile on his face. You couldn’t understand why he would be nervous. You’d spent the last part of forever being in love with him and he’d practically reciprocated it in front of all these people. 

He met your fingers through the fence. “You mad at me?” 

“No,” you laughed. The smile on your face hurt. “No, I love you.” 

And he could see it then—that you needed to say it so bad you were bursting. He could see the smile and the joy in your eyes and the way you seemed to just glow in front of him. So he let you say it. He let you say it and he let your fingers grip at his knuckles through the fence as he dropped down further and slotted a kiss to your lips through grated metal. 

It was a bruising kiss; separated by fence, but even more, separated by lips that just couldn’t stay in place. He kept laughing against you and you kept trying to tell him you loved him again. But either way, it was a kiss neither of you would ever forget. 

Because it was a kiss that told you it was worth it. That you and Bucky were worth it and that you were meant to last. Even through the chain-link fence at the baseball stadium.