no idea what i'm doing

The first time Bucky saw you with his your adjusted jersey, he nearly lost his mind.

You cheered in the first row, just like he had asked you to and just like you did every time Bucky played. It was cheesy, maybe, but a good luck kiss was all he needed. It was his ritual, and he would not let anyone get in the way.

The song playing through the speakers changed. Even in his state, Bucky recognised it. You loved that song; it was your song. And just as he had predicted, when he made his way to the dance floor, he saw you.

You danced without a care in the world. Next to you was Peggy, who held your hand as you danced and sang the lyrics back to her in a slightly off-tune manner.

Bucky's heart tripped over itself.

Your hair was loose and you had glitter sticking to your cheeks. The jersey was slipping from one of your shoulders, revealing skin and the baby blue lace of your bra. There was his girl. The woman with degree-level knowledge of musical theatre and who once nearly fell off the bed after laughing at biology jokes.

You were able to get any new concept through his skill and also look ridiculously good while doing it. Study sessions didn't include much studying, that was for sure.

With ease—in that Barnes manner that only saw itself magnified with the alcohol—he slid next to you. He placed one hand over your waist and moved alongside you. Peggy took this as her sign and quietly walked off. Steve must've been looking for her, too.

"Bucky!" You blurted out, turning your head around.

His eyes were bright like diamonds, and it was all because of you. "In the flesh, baby."

You danced and Bucky just stared. His heart thrummed against his chest and in his ears. For a moment, he almost forgot who he was. He spun you around and pulled you flush against him. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. Your hand reached out to brush his jaw. He let out a groan, lazy and in love.

"You did really well today, Buck. I'm proud of you," you murmured against his lips.

He smiled in return, meeting you for another kiss. The more time you spent kissing, the less aware of himself Bucky became. He was flowing with what his body told him to do and following your lead.

The kiss deepened, and Bucky readjusted his grip on your waist. He breathed you in: vanilla and some flowers. It was your pulse points and the spots behind your ears—which he also kissed. He had asked you once, while you lay on his bed, what your secret to smelling so heavenly at all times was. Vaseline and perfume on the pulse points on your neck, behind your ears and of the back of your knees.

Bucky pulled away, but you tugged him by the shirt, bringing him right back against your lips. He tried to say something, but your mouth swallowed the words. One of his hands slid under your shirt; it was warmer than it had any right to be. In return, you nipped at his bottom lip.

Bucky was one step away from carrying you up the stairs of the house where the party was being held and—

You pulled away before his mind had the chance to continue with his very, very pleasant thoughts. His baby blue eyes snapped open and stared at you like a deer caught in the headlights. "Why'd you stop?"

"We're drunk, baby." Your hand brushed against his chest, right over his heart in the same way it always did when you felt he was nervous.

"True…" Bucky was tall and looked down at you with squinted eyes. "Sleeping with you is much better sober, anyway."

"Glad we're on the same page, then," you murmured, entranced once again by him and only him.

oh.

he was talking to you.

"i—me? i'm your sweetheart…?" the thought was unimaginable and incomprehensible to your mushy brain. he was pretty, the kind of pretty that you felt deep in your soul and there was no way—absolutely none—that he was yours. he could probably pull anyone he wanted without even trying, but he wanted you? that was ground breaking, earth shattering news to your brain right now.

he was yours.

"that's—nuh uh." you shook your head a little too enthusiastically, reeling as the dizziness set in. bucky held back a barely contained laugh as he let go of your hand and leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair back behind your head. "uh huh. you remember, right? you came to watch the band practice with nat that one time, you kinda followed me around like a puppy afterwards, now we're here."

you blinked at him again for a second, eyes narrowing again as you tried to piece it together. you remembered it in flashes, a crowded room, people laughing, him behind a drum kit and then he was kissing you and—you gasped loudly, eyes widening. "you're the really cool drummer! oh my god, you have no idea how cool you look. and when you do the…" you wiggled your hand around, doing an awful attempt at replicating the drumstick twirl that he did. that was what broke bucky, head falling back as he laughed. it wasn't funny, it shouldn't have been funny, but you looked about as coordinated as a baby giraffe taking it's first steps in the world.

"don't laugh at me!" you huffed as you reached out and poked his arm—missing twice before you hit him with the most feeble poke ever, which only made him laugh even more. "they stole my organs, and you're laughing at me."

"that was real bad, sweetheart. even for you." he shook his head as he leaned forward, resting his chin on the railing of your bed. you looked cuter than you had any right to when you probably couldn't even tell him what day it was. "they didn't steal your organs, baby. they're all still in there, they just took your appendix."

"you promise i have all my organs? did you check? all of them?"

"i checked, sweetheart. double, triple checked. everything is still where it's supposed to be." he said solemnly. "no stealing organs over here, promise."

you hummed quietly as your hand reached out, flicking a strand of hair that was falling in his eyes. "if you ever cut this, i wanna divorce, asap. like, it's gonna be the biggest tragedy of the—of the century! no, the millennium. is that a word?" you yawned, the heaviness of sleep already tugging you back down again. but you didn't wanna sleep, you just wanted to carry on staring at him—just in case you woke up and this had all just been one post surgery, still half drugged up dream.

"yeah, it's a word. kinda think we'd need to be married to get divorced, though. we can work on that one." he moved his head closer so you didn't have to stretch so far. his eyes flickered to the door as it cracked open and your nurse slipped back in. "just need to check her vitals." she smiled as she stopped in front of the monitors at the side of your bed.

"sounds…vitally important." you murmured as your hand fell from his hair, hitting the mattress with a soft thud. bucky chuckled quietly as he sat up properly, leaning over to pull the blanket up properly and tuck you in. "why don't you save being a comedian for after your nap, huh? jokes are still gonna be here when you wake up, baby."

you grumbled something that might have been a complaint under normal circumstances before you let sleep take you, eyes fluttering shut as you drifted off. "you've got a good one there." the nurse smiled as her eyes flickered over to the two of you before she headed back towards the door.

"yeah." he huffed, smiling to himself as he leaned back in the chair. "she's a real good one."

the world came back to you more nicely this time. and by more nicely, you meant that you were aware of where you were and what was happening—also the dull ache in your side. "jesus…" you groaned as you turned your head look at him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "you come here often?" you teased, your smile turning to a grimace as you tried to sit back up.

"eh, not really. only when my girlfriends insides try and start a revolution against her, y'know? he teased back as he leaned forward and helped you up, rearranging the pillows behind you. it was always funny when he got all mother henny, a rockstar in the making melting because his girlfriend needed her pillows rearranged. "you remember anything from your nap?"

that stopped you in your—albeit limited—tracks, side-eying him heavily. "no…? you can't just leave it there, buck! you gotta tell me. oh, god. no, c'mon. you're not being fair." you protested, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. he did this all the time, and it was never fair. usually it was holding your textbooks out of reach, just because he could, but this? this was different. the thought of knowing you said something embarrassing was somehow worse than actually knowing what you said.

"well…" he drawled, dragging out every letter just to wind you up a little more. "at first, you didn't even know that i was your boyfriend. my ego took a real battering with that one. then you did the worst impression of that thing that i do with my sticks." you groaned at that, letting your head fall back against the pillows. months, that was how long he'd been trying to teach you that trick, and you failed every single time.

"and after that, you made me promise that they didn't steal your organs, that bit was kinda fun. and then—brace yourself—you threatened to divorce me if i ever cut my hair."

oh.

you could feel the blush spreading over your cheeks, up the back of your neck until even the tips of your ears were pink. "thats's—i didn't—i just think that you have really nice hair." you mumbled, taking a very keen interest in the blanket tucked around you than looking at him.

"yeah, i figured that, honestly. c'mon, that wasn't that bad. if they knocked me out, i'd probably say a lot worse." he reached out and lifted your chin so you had no choice but to look at him rather than hiding in your embarrassment. "it's kinda cute." he leaned in, lips ghosting over yours before he kissed you properly. you made a soft noise, fingers curling around the blankets.

for a minute, everything else melted away. the haze, the pain, it all fell away until it was just the two of you left and embarrassment was some far away concept. because no matter what happened or what you said, it always came back to him.

The wind billows through your hair as you stand outside, the party behind you still raging on. You bounce on the balls of your feet, arms curled around yourself, Bucky's suit jacket the only thing keeping you warm as you wait for him to bring the car to you.

That's when it happens.

A hand skims your ass and squeezes. You freeze, blinking in shock.

Rumlow smirks, standing too close for comfort, "Lookin' good, sweetheart— where's Barnes, hm? Leaving a pretty thing like you out here all alone for the vultures. . ."

"She's not alone."

A shaky sigh escapes you at the sight of Bucky, sleeves rolled to his elbows, jaw grinding and silently seething.

Rumlow turns, "She sure seemed like it."

Bucky grins, shows them pearly white teeth, and then swings.

The crack is defeaning, ripping through the quiet of the night, the sick crunch of bone under his fist as it connects with Rumlow's nose.

You gasp, "Buck—"

"Stay there, princess," His hands fist Rumlow's shirt as rivulets of blood pour from his nose, "Gotta make sure this asshole knows not to touch what's mine."

"You ever touch her again," Bucky whispers, his voice so calm it sends a chill down your spine, "You'll be six feet under."

"Fuck you," Rumlow snaps.

Bucky's hand grasps roughly at the back of his neck, turning him around to face you, "Apologise."

Rumlow spits at your heels, leaving a splatter of blood, and Bucky jerks his head forward with a snarl.

"Apologise, otherwise I'll personally send you to Pierce in fucking pieces."

"Bucky," You murmur, "I just wanna go home."

His voice softens when he glances up at you, "We will, babydoll, I'm gonna take you home, but I'm not gonna let him disrespect you and walk away unscathed."

Bucky's hand tightens, fingertips digging into the sides of Rumlow’s throat until he chokes out an apology.

You watch Bucky shove him to the floor, satisfied as he watches the man drop, and then holds a hand out for you.

Your hand slides into his palm, intertwining your fingers, letting him pull you closer— safe and secure.

"You'll always be mine, babydoll," He whispers against your temple.

"I know."

Bucky gaze down at you for a long moment, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"C'mon, let's go home."