Perfect Match (Bucky x Reader)
The sound of heavy knocking on the door wakes you up from your nap, realizing you fell asleep in front of the TV again.
“Damn it,” you think, getting up from the couch. You were supposed to be halfway ready for your dinner date tonight. Your old friend, Steve was kind enough to set you up with one of his friends that was supposedly a great match for you. Another rap at the door and you just settle with what you’re wearing; black ripped jeans and a cropped maroon hoodie. You run over apologies in your head before opening the door. To your surprise, Bucky Barnes is standing there, his hands in his pockets, wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and grey shoes, his hair hidden under a black beanie.
“Bucky? How can I help you?” you ask confused. You’ve only met him once and most of the time it was Steve answering your questions about him.
“Hey. It’s Y/N, right? Sorry, I think I might have gotten the wrong place. I was supposed to meet Steve. He moved and told me this was his new address,” he explained, putting a hand to his mouth for warmth. The cool wind was blowing heavily and was giving us both chills. It didn’t help that it was starting to snow as well.
“Oh, maybe I could help you find it. We’ll talk about it inside, it’s too cold to be out in this weather,” you say, beckoning him to enter.
He reluctantly abides, but you close the door before he can change his mind.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make us some coffee.”
You come back to the living room, carrying two cups of hot coffee. He’s seated awfully still and straight on one of the couch cushions.
“So, you were saying that Steve moved?” you ask, handing him one of the cups, “That’s odd. He never mentioned anything of the sort when we went to lunch last week. If I remember correctly, I dropped him off at his old apartment across town, after we ate.”
“He told he’d moved out two weeks ago,” he replies confused. “Here’s the address he gave me.”
He hands you a crumpled-up piece of paper with your address on it.
“If he didn’t mention moving, what did you two talk about?”
“Well, we were catching up and he was asking me about…” mid-sentence you realize why he’s there. You laugh to yourself and shake your head.
“What? What did he ask you about?” he insists. “Is there something wrong?”
“I think I figured out what happened. Last week he said he’d found me my perfect match,” You start.
“Perfect match? What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
You give him a second to think about it when you see the realization hit his eyes. There’s a moment of awkward silence while the both of you don’t know what to do.
He suddenly puts down his cup of coffee and sighs.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
“What for?” he asks, “You didn’t know either.”
“I’m sorry because I know this wasn’t your first choice to be here tonight,” you clarify.
“Oh,” he says sadly, looking down regretfully at his shoes.
“But if you aren’t against it, I’d be pleased if you stayed. It’s not very often, I have company over,” you smile.
He gives you a look of uncertainty, “Are you sure? You don’t think it won’t get awkward, considering…”
“It doesn’t have to be,” you salvage, “I won’t treat it like a date if you don’t. We’re just two people hanging out and getting to know each other.”
He has a pensive look on his face as he fidgets his fingers until finally, he throws his hands up in the air in defeat. “Why not? The weather seems to be getting worse outside, and you do make a great blend,” he says, drinking the last of the coffee you made him.
You spend the next few hours talking over dinner and drinking wine. Soon, you’re both collapsed on the couch, giggling away like little girls.
“There’s no way you did something as stupid as that. You’re too nice!” he laughs.
“But I did! And what do you mean I’m too nice? You think you have me all figured out now?” you slur.
“I think I know enough about you to make that judgement,” he teases.
“Okay, Mr Barnes, describe me in five words,” you challenge.
“Okay, then,” he says, sitting up. He stares at you, looking you up and down before deciding on his five words. “Lightweight.”
“Hey!” you hit him with a couch cushion, laughing. “That’s the first word you can come up with?”
“Funny,” he continues, “Caring. Smart.”
“And?” you ask, “What’s the last word?”
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes.
You stare up at his piercing blue eyes that stare back at you. His features seem softer now.
“How did I do?” he asks in a whisper, putting down his glass, giving his complete attention and focus on you.
“Umm…” you stutter, “I think could do better. Describing you, I mean…”
“Okay. How would you describe me in five words?” he questions, leaning in closer.
“Loyal. Quiet. Thoughtful. Protective. Ladies’ Man,” you say.
“That’s six words,” he defends, “But I’ll take it.”
“How did I go?” you query.
“Well, you forgot to add that I’m pretty irresistible,” he winked, causing you to blush. “Don’t worry, you are too.”
You both lean in closer towards each other. Your skin tingling as you can feel his breath. You close your eyes, but the fantasy is cut short when a shrill bell pushes you two apart. You take a sharp sigh that turns to a bitter laugh.
“That must be the timer for the brownies,” you say, getting up from the couch.
You curse under your breath while you walk into the kitchen. You carefully take out the burning tin about to place it on a mat when you feel a strong hand on your arm, forcing you to turn. He crashes his lips onto yours and you forget what you were doing. All you’re thinking about is how you don’t want this to end. Your hands reach up, getting lost in his hair, while his arms are around your waist bringing you closer to him.
Besides the steps you both clumsily make towards the couch, the rest of the night is a blur. You wake up to the sound of his beating heart, blushing at the thought of what you could have done before falling asleep. It wasn’t like you to engage on the first date, but he was different. You’re both squished and cuddled up on the couch, but it feels good being protected. You give him a peck on the cheek, hoping he wakes up.
“Hey,” he stirs. “Good mor- oh no,” he stops.
“What? What’s wrong?” You panic, hoping he doesn’t think that what happened was all a mistake. You see his eyes dart up at the room, giving it an uneasy look.
You face away from him to look at what’s troubling him. The room is a complete mess. There are coffee and wine stains on the floor and carpet, a broken vase, and flower petals scattered all over the room.
You turn back to face him, laughing into his chest. “Well I guess if whatever this is, continues, we’ll never have nice things.”
“That’s ok, I don’t want nice things,” he replies, “I want you.”