Imagination

A shiver made its way down Steve’s back as he entered the communal kitchen and dining area of the Avengers compund, his eyes trained on the enticingly small and utterly adorable new intern Tony has brought in. Much like Tony, the young man had graduated high school far ahead of schedule and had attended MIT on a full ride scholarship for his work in biochemistry, his name even being mentioned as a nominee for the Nobel Prize. Tony proceeded saw he saw himself in the young man when he’d met him after a speech he’d given mere months ago at the prestigious institute. The man, James Buchanan Barnes (“But you can call me Bucky”), had been living in a small apartment in the compound ever since Tony had brought him back and blabbed incessantly about how amazing his work was and how well he knew the two would work together.

Until today, Steve hadn’t truly interacted with Bucky besides a few meetings in a hall as they went about their daily lives, but Steve had certainly noticed him. It seemed to Steve that every time he crossed paths with Bucky, the other’s head would perk up a bit, a gentle smile on his lips, and his hips would sway a little less subtly. Though, he supposed, that could just be his imagination.

As Steve walked towards the fridge in search of a water bottle after his routine morning run with Sam, Bucky’s head snapped to look at Steve, his eyes glued to the soldier’s sweat sheened body, courtesy of the shining sun and vigorous exercise. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could’ve sworn he saw Bucky lick his lips and glance up and down at Steve’s body. Though, he supposed, that could have just been his imagination.
“Morning everybody,” Steve greeted warmly to the small group that, on this particular Sunday morning, consisted of Clint and Natasha making pancakes, Tony and Bruce studying a notebook filled with notes on new materials for everybody’s suits, and Bucky staring less than subtly at Steve. Somewhat flustered, Steve ran a hand through his hair and gripped his blushing neck for a second before grabbing a water bottle and chugging half of it. Afterward, he’d swear he actually heard Bucky gulp and shudder, though, he supposed, that could have been his imagination.

Nearly every day after the first, Bucky joined the group in the kitchen for breakfast, fiddling with his notebook at the table, looking for all the world like a miniature Tony Stark. While he kept distracted with his notes, Steve took advantage of the chance to really look at Bucky. He had a fairly strong build, if a bit more toned and lanky rather than bulky like himself. He kept his hair shoulder length, occasionally pulling it back into a ponytail and brushing his long bangs away from his face with delicate fingers. Steve hazard to guess that Bucky might even be a pianist. Steve found it utterly endearing how Bucky would either bite his lip in concentration, usually before erasing and rewriting a line in his notes, or stick the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he scribbled away furiously, his mind seeming to work far faster than his hands could. One morning, a somewhat dreary Wednesday in November about two weeks into the internship, Bucky had glanced up from his notes, massaging a cramp in his hand and caught Steve staring. Before Steve hurriedly turned towards Clint and Bruce’s conversation about different biochemical weapons that could be implemented in his arrows, he swore he saw a blush creeping up from under Bucky’s sweater onto his neck and cheeks. However, he supposed, that could have been his imagination.

Coming home from missions was always a surreal feeling. Sometimes, Steve even felt he shouldn’t have come home at all. He’d replay every moment of the battle, remembering everything he could have done better to keep this person or that one from being injured or to make the battle itself more effective. Steve was most certainly his harshest critic. Once the dust had settled on the battlefield, Steve practically lived in the gym, either running simulations, sparring with the rest of the team or just working out. If he wasn’t in the gym he was studying footage of the most recent battle. After a particularly rough battle in rural Germany, Steve came home in a much more somber mood than usual. If he were to be honest with himself, he had done fairly well this go round, all things considered. Fighting magic wasn’t exactly in his repertoire, but he’d done his best, generally letting the others who were more prepared for the situation handle it. He still felt inadequate though, as though he could have and should have done more. He spent nearly two weeks constantly in the gym or running simulations. Near the end of his two week training binge, Steve had noticed somebody watching him from outside the gym, hiding to the side of the glass. If he had looked closely he would have seen long hair flipping over a slender shoulder as the watcher ran off to avoid being caught. But, Steve supposed, that could have just as easily been his imagination.

Although the Avengers compund was far from crowded, there were always times when the whole crew would pile into the communal living room for movie night. The tradition had started when Bruce took it upon himself to educate Thor and Natasha, who had grown up with little to no access to pop culture, on the finer points of the world’s cinematic history. Usually himself, Tony or Clint would pick a movie that had earned a cult following in its release year. Such titles had thus far included The Breakfast Club, Clueless, Legally Blonde, the Alien series, and many other classics from the 80s onward. Thor and Natasha had been utterly infatuated, watching attentively at every screening, though now they tended to use the time to relax and enjoy everyone’s company. Now that Bucky was living in the tower, he was, of course, invited to the movie nights. By the time movie night rolled around about six months after Bucky had begun his internship, Steve had decided he quite liked him. Quite a bit indeed. And so, a simple plan was hatched. Steve suggested a horror movie, knowing Clint and Natasha would fully back this decision. He also made sure the only open seat available once Bucky arrived was the one next to him on the loveseat in the very back of the room. As the team settled in, the opening credits of the original Friday the 13th rolled on the screen. Steve noticed almost instantly the Bucky was somewhat uncomfortable. Steve, of course, began to worry immensely, his mother hen instincts kicking in. He glanced down towards Bucky at the other end of the loveseat, noticing his legs curled up and his arms hugging himself protectively. Unconsciously, Steve shifted towards Bucky, attempting to subtly comfort him. Suddenly, as the music swelled and the woman on screen screamed, Steve had a lapful of an utterly terrified Bucky, shuddering with fright and clearly unsettled. Without thinking, Steve chuckled, brushing his knuckles up the back of Bucky’s arm and holding him a bit tighter. Realizing his actions, Bucky say bolt upright, and shifted back towards his side of the couch. Steve thought for second he’d noticed a small smile despite the obvious startled look on his face. Though, he supposed, that could have just been his imagination.

It had been a week since the movie night incident and every time Bucky was in Steve’s presence he blushed excessively. Finally, Steve felt it was time to do something about his feelings and the inkling he had that Bucky might feel the same. They had no immediate threats he had been made aware of and Bucky had just finished a project and was taking a bit of a break from the lab, much to Tony’s disappointment.

“Hey, Bucky! Wait up!” Steve called to the young man as he hurried away, almost as if avoiding Steve.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?” Bucky answered in a somewhat tired voice, the bags under his eyes prominent. Steve had to fight a gasp and the urge to pull Bucky into his arms and carry him to bed, he wasn’t sure how Bucky would react, especially in this state of exhaustion.

“Can we talk? I feel like there’s something up between us and I just wanted to see if you’d agree and maybe we could talk about it?” Steve strung together, nerves settling into his stomach. He watched hopefully as Bucky pondered the request before nodding consent. Steve led Bucky up towards his own floor and sat him down in the small living area.

“So, Bucky, I think I need to be frank here. You’re certainly attractive, absolutely brilliant and an amazing addition to the team. Over the past six months you’ve been here, I’ve found myself thinking of you as less of a colleague and as more of a friend and, now, something more than a friend. To cut to the chase, I want you, Bucky Barnes. If you don’t feel the same I completely understand but I’ve never been good at holding my feelings back and I ju-“ Bucky interrupted Steve’s nervous monologue.

“I like you, too. I want you, so much. I knew from the day I moved in and saw you, glistening from your morning run and looking like a damn God, that I wanted you. I’ve got to admit, I’m surprised I’m your type, being a guy and all, but I’m certainly not complaining,” Bucky responded, a smile broadening on his face.

“Now, I’d love to spend hours being excessively romantic and mushy with you, truly I would, but I think I may collapse any second from sleep deprivation so, if you’ll excuse me,” Bucky went to stand but Steve halted his movement with a hand wrapping around his wrist.

“Stay,” Steve muttered, gently guiding Bucky to his bedroom, pulling back the neatly made covers and laying him down. Bucky thought he had never slept better, but, perhaps, that was just his imagination.