“Another date?” Bucky questioned, taking in the sight of y/n digging through her closet, a pile of clothes quickly accumulating on her carpeted floor.
“Do you ever knock?” y/n narrowed her eyes at him jokingly, looking over at the brunet from behind the closet door.
“No, because the last time I did, I broke your door off,” Bucky shrugged, pulling a chuckle from y/n as she recalled the one time Bucky ever knocked on her door.
Bucky was getting acquainted with his new arm when Sam had very kindly asked him to call y/n down from her room to tell her about an upcoming mission.
“But I don’t even know her,” Bucky had pointed out, earning a shrug from Sam.
“Tough shit. Take this as a chance to get to know your colleagues if that’s the case,” Sam smiled, patting Bucky on the back before making his way to the fridge.
With a huff—and a few directions from FRIDAY—he made his way to y/n l/n’s bedroom in the compound.
He brought his prosthetic arm up to the door—he was trying to learn more about how its capabilities, after all—before hearing a snap before the door, rather than swinging open, began to fall forward onto him.
“Incoming door!” a voice exclaimed from inside the room right before he knew he was going to have a wooden door slam onto his head. Except it didn’t. Bucky looked above him to see the door suspended in the air, flashes of yellow light surrounding it.
“Let me get that for you,” Bucky chuckled awkwardly, pulling the door away from the forces keeping it up and setting it right next to the doorway.
“Hi, I’m y/n l/n and I’m assuming you’re the guy who knocked my door down?” she questioned looking up at him with e/c eyes.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I can fix it, I swear!” Bucky panicked before y/n shook her head, chuckling.
That incredibly awkward interaction was the start of a beautiful friendship for the pair. They found comfort in each other and held nothing but the utmost respect for each other. Especially after one managed to pull a prank on the other; they had their occasional prank wars.
“Touché, but yes, J’ai un rendez-vous,” y/n winked, throwing another article from clothing from her closet.
“Woah, she’s bringing out the French. What? You liked French fries so much, you decided you wanted to date a French person?” Bucky quipped, pulling a shrug from y/n
“No, but Mike’s part French and I figured I could put some of my skills to use,” y/n shrugged unsurely, plopping right next to Bucky who was seated at the edge of her bed.
The brunet wouldn’t admit it, but he found himself growing jealous of Mike. A pit formed in his stomach and his breath got caught in his throat at the thought of y/n going on a date with that guy.
“Mike? As in one of the agents downstairs? I’m pretty sure he’s only one/sixteenth French. The guy can’t even pronounce croissant correctly when he tries speaking French,” Bucky scoffed, earning a shrug from y/n.
“He’s trying to get in touch with his roots. I find it charming, I guess?” y/n smiled. Truth be told, the girl wasn’t quite sure why she even agreed to go out with Mike. Okay, maybe the little voice in the back of her head knew exactly why she agreed to go out with Mike; because the one guy she was interested in didn’t seem to look at her the same way she looked at him and she knew she had to get over him somehow.
It seemed giving Mike a chance was one of the ways she thought up to help her cope with her feelings for a certain dark-haired supersoldier.
“I’m getting in touch with my roots too, see?” Bucky chuckled, running his hand through the roots of his hair, unconsciously also slipping into his old Brooklyn accent. y/n wanted someone who was in touch with their roots? Maybe his old accent could show her he embraced his roots, his past, and where he came from.
“No, you’re touching your roots, not getting in touch with your roots. There’s a difference,” y/n pointed out as her brows furrowed, “wait, do you not want me to go on a date with Mike?”
‘I’d rather you go out with me’ Bucky wanted to tell her, but he knew he couldn’t. Not yet, at least.
“I don’t care who you date. As a matter of fact, I’ll even help you pick out something to wear without making a mess of your closet. Seriously, doll, couldn’t you just put everything back on a hanger?” Bucky smiled, ignoring the thoughts running through his head.
“Oh, okay,” y/n sounded defeated as those words left her mouth. She gave him a sad smile before falling backward onto her bed, allowing herself to sink into the soft mattress.
The thought of sabotaging the date crossed Bucky’s mind once or twice as he browsed through the items in her closet, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. If Mike made her happy, he would just have to be happy for her.
Then, his eyes grazed upon a beautiful red velvet dress he’d only ever seen her wear once on an undercover mission in London. He could remember how beautiful and elegant she looked in it. More importantly, he saw how happy and confident she felt in the dress; qualities y/n didn’t regularly exhibit.
“Try this on,” Bucky requested, tossing the dress at y/n.
“Are you kidding? It’s not like we’re going to some fancy ass restaurant,” y/n shook her head, stroking the soft velvet fabric.
“So? First dates are supposed to be memorable, doll. There is no way in hell he’ll forget you in that dress,” Bucky smiled, his hand holding hers reassuringly. Her heart fluttered upon hearing the nickname Bucky often used for her; doll. She taught herself not to think about it too much, it probably didn’t mean anything.
“And you’re sure it’s not too dressy?” y/n questioned, her brows furrowing as she considered wearing the dress.
“I’m not a fashion expert like Nat or Wanda, but I’m sure you could throw a jacket or something over it if you don’t want it looking too dressy,” Bucky shrugged, heading to her closet to pick out a jacket to go with the dress.
“I just don’t want him to think I’m too high-maintenance, y’ know? I mean I am, occasionally, but he doesn’t have to know that,” y/n rambled, staring blankly at the dress.
“If this guy likes you, he’ll understand,” Bucky smiled warmly at her. “Like I do,” he wanted to add, but he couldn’t find it in himself to tell y/n how he felt, not right away.
“No offense, but with every crazy thing going on in my life, any guy I’m dating should be entitled to not understanding a bunch of shit,” y/n chuckled, patting Bucky on the back as she made her way to her closet too.
She pulled out a white knit sweater from one of the hangers and layered it over the dress, which she spread onto the bed, to see how it would look. She tilted her head, studying the two garments of clothing as though she was an art enthusiast at the Louvre.
“What do you think?” she questioned, turning to Bucky who stood right next to her, studying the clothing just as she was.
“I think that sweater’s mine,” Bucky quipped, recalling how y/n borrowed the sweater from him during a cold night out with the team. y/n shrugged at his response, a bashful smile on her face.
“It looks better on me than it does you,” y/n chuckled, patting him on the back before heading to her closet to pick out shoes to match the outfit Bucky helped her pick out. A pair of beautiful white pumps caught her eye, biting her lip as she thought about wearing it.
“They’re beautiful. You should wear them,” Bucky smiled at her as though he’d read her mind.
“I don’t want them to get dirty while I’m out,” y/n shook her head, staring at the pristine conditions the shoes were in; a result of her only ever wearing them inside the tower.
“Well, if they get dirty, I’ll clean ‘em myself,” Bucky insisted, wanting y/n to feel her best while she was out. He knew how most of her dates went; the whole lot of them were assholes who’d make her feel inadequate. Assholes who’d comment on how she was too underdressed, too overdressed, lacking in something, too much of something else. All that rather than telling her how amazing and beautiful she was like Bucky would have done for her had he been the one going out with her.
“Alright. I have my outfit!” y/n exclaimed excitedly, throwing her arms around Bucky gratefully.
“If it weren’t for me, that pile would be taller and you still wouldn’t have your outfit. You have me to thank, so you’re welcome,” Bucky winked before making his way out her room, giving her the time and space to get ready.
It took her a while to get ready, but it was worth it. She made her way to the living room where Bucky was watching TV, stepping right in front of him.
“Hey! I was watching!” he quipped before taking in the sight of y/n. His breath got caught in his throat; she was beautiful. Of course, to Bucky, y/n was always the most beautiful woman in the tower, and based off the proud smile she had on her red-painted lips, she was starting to feel like it too.
“What do you think?” y/n questioned, running through her hands through her h/c hair which she’d styled in a casual ponytail.
“You look amazing,” Bucky smiled at her, resisting the urge to just ask her to ditch Mike altogether and to ask her out instead. “I’m amazing at picking clothes,” he added just to add a bit of their friendly banter in the conversation.
“So, I’ll see you later? I need to catch a cab,” y/n questioned, checking the time on her phone.
“Yep. I’ll see you around,” Bucky smiled down at her, watching as she made her way to the elevator.
“The prick didn’t even bother to pick her up from the damned tower,” Bucky grumbled, settling into the couch, the only thing on his mind being how y/n was way too good for Mike.
Bucky found himself wondering how y/n’s date went. He wasn’t left to wonder for long when the elevator opened with a beep just thirty minutes after y/n left for her date. Expecting it to be someone else entering the compound, he had his back turned to the elevator as he absentmindedly flipped through the catalog of shows to watch on Netflix.
It wasn’t until the couch cushion next to him and he heard a familiar sigh that he averted his gaze from the TV.
“You’re back early,” Bucky commented, putting the remote down and turning to face y/n.
“Yeah, well, he stepped on my shoes,” y/n shrugged nonchalantly, confusing Bucky.
“And you left because of that?” Bucky raised a brow at her, studying her expression.
“Not just that. He stepped on my shoes and didn’t do anything,” y/n repeated, looking expectantly at Bucky as though what she’d just said was supposed to make sense to him.
“Well, you shouldn’t have left. I would have cleaned your shoes anyways,” Bucky chuckled, taking a look at y/n’s mud-stained shoes.
“Exactly! You, you would have cleaned my shoes. This guy just stomped on them,” y/n mumbled, as though she was having an existential crisis.
“Well, do you want me to clean them now or—” Bucky spoke, confused at y/n’s behavior before being cut off by y/n.
“No! Goddamnit, the shoes are a horrible metaphor. I need someone who’ll clean my shoes, not contribute to their destruction like I do when I step on the back part of it because my feet were getting uncomfortable in them!” y/n explained, leaving Bucky very confused.
“So, you want a personal assistant?” Bucky questioned, brows furrowing.
“No! I need someone who’ll take care of me! I need someone who’s there for me no matter what! I need someone I like spending time with and I need someone who always makes me feel loves; like I’m the most important person in the world! I need someone like you,” y/n exclaimed before pausing to take a deep breath, “I-I need you.”
“y/n, are you saying what I think you’re saying? Because if you’re not, we can forget all about this conversation,” Bucky questioned her, his voice quiet as he processed y/n’s words.
“I like you, Bucky! I like you a lot and I don’t know how you feel about me or anything but—” y/n rambled, only to be interrupted by a pair of soft lips against hers.
“Does that help?” Bucky questioned as he pulled away from her, looking down at her lovingly.
“Yep. It definitely does,” y/n chuckled, tugging on Bucky’s shirt and pulling him closer to her for another kiss.