Characters: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Bad language words
Author’s Note: Consider this the official start of our NaNoWriMo challenge! Don’t forget to leave feedback if you read something you like, guys. That’s what keeps us motivated to write for all you lovely people. Enjoy!!
You’d spotted him over by Steve, talking and smiling like he owned the fucking place, like being here and looking the way he did was no big deal.
Natasha followed your gaze, eyes catching on the man you were referring to and smiling as she took a sip of her apple martini.
“That’s Bucky,” she stated, motioning towards him with her nearly empty glass. “He’s Steve’s best friend.”
She offered no other explanation and you didn’t ask. You’d already formed your opinion about Stark Tower’s new guest and the verdict was that you didn’t like him. He was just too…perfect. It was completely infuriating.
You’d spent the next hour at the party socializing with various members of Tony’s superhero family, making sure to avoid Mr. Too Gorgeous For His Own Good, who seemed to be glued to Steve for most of the night so far. You’d sneak a glance at him every so often, with the intention of keeping tabs on him so you could avoid him, and definitely not because his eyes were a mesmerizing shade of ocean blue. It had absolutely nothing to do with the tempting way his mouth curled and moved when he spoke, looking like the softest, most kissable set of lips you’d ever seen. It definitely wasn’t that. At all.
At some point, maybe after your third whiskey on ice, you’d lost sight of the pair and had momentarily forgotten about the man whose simple presence had ruined your whole evening. Just who did he think he was? He couldn’t just walk around here with that heavy of a presence. Hell, you could practically feel the magnetic pull from here. He should think about the consequences of such a thing. It could attract all sorts of unwanted female attention. Not that you cared. Thinking about him cozying up with one of the girls at this party didn’t bother you in the slightest.
While you were sitting there mentally bitching out Steve’s friend, you hadn’t noticed the Captain himself had come strolling up behind you with his friend in tow.
You automatically turned, a smile sliding into place before you realized just who was behind you. Just as quickly as the smile appeared it was gone, replaced your best unimpressed look. Bucky noticed and quirked an eyebrow, curious as to how someone who he hadn’t even met could already dislike him to such a degree.
“I want you to meet my friend Bucky.”
You watched as Bucky thrust a hand in your direction, a dazzling smile lighting up his face and you mentally berated your traitorous heart for skipping a beat.
“Nice to meet you, doll.”
Before you could stop yourself, you crossed your arms, shooting down Bucky’s silent request for contact and repeated the little nickname he’d used for you, your tone mocking and incredulous.
“Doll…” you spit out before rolling your eyes and moving past the two men, heading towards the bar to get yourself another drink. You heard the two of them murmuring something behind you, and when you realized how rude you had just been you scrubbed a hand down your face in frustration, trying to figure out how one guy had gotten your panties into such a twist.
The party went on in much the same manner. You avoided Bucky, only now he seemed to notice and if you didn’t know any better you’d almost think he found it amusing. Every time you caught him looking your way he was grinning–just a small, knowing quirk of the lips that made you hate him that much more. How could someone so big and intimidating look so damn cute?!
By the time the party was over you were exhausted, having lapped the room one too many times trying to dodge any possibility of having to interact with Bucky. You were one of the last ones left and you sat at the bar as you finished your drink, chatting idly with Pepper as she picked up things here and there, trying in vain to achieve some sense of order in the room after all of Tony’s shenanigans during the party. You were staring into your drink, hands cupped around the cool glass of amber liquid when you felt someone take the stool next to you.
“You don’t like me, do you?”
Your eyes darted from your glass to Bucky who was perched next to you, that playful little grin still glued into place, and you put a little extra effort into keeping your expression stoic, pretending like that look didn’t make you melt like ice cream on a hot day.
“I don’t know what you mean,” you said nonchalantly right before you downed the rest of your whiskey, reveling in the way it burned its way down your throat and gave you a little more courage.
He said it like it was as much of a fact as the sky being blue and you were too tipsy to try to deny it anyway.
One thing that you didn’t particularly like about drinking was the fact that it made you just a little too honest sometimes. This night was no exception.
“Why don’t you go be gorgeous somewhere else?” you said dismissively, waving him off with your hand.
You turned away from him and it took a second before you realized what you said. When you did, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, making you blush and you had to actively fight against the urge to find the nearest rock, crawl under it and die there.
“You think I’m gorgeous?”
You could hear the humor in his voice and that only made your embarrassment worse. But you painted on your best poker face and turned back to him, finding him watching you with a self-satisfied smirk and eyes full of mischief.
“I mean, you’re okay. I guess. Don’t get a big head over it or anything.”
Bucky didn’t speak. Instead he simply watched you with that same look, letting you stew in your discomfort for a few moments. As the silence stretched on, you let your mind wander. The whiskey was proving to have loosened your tongue just a bit too much and without even realizing it you began to speak again, somehow still managing to sound at least slightly unaffected.
“Not that I care, but do you have a girlfriend?”
You heard a chuckle punch from Bucky’s chest, like he hadn’t expected that question and found it thoroughly entertaining.
“No girlfriend. Not that I care either, but do you have a boyfriend?”
You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was kidding, implying that he very much cared about your answer and that had you smiling. You could feel the irritation you held for him earlier begin to dissolve and you let it, too distracted by those eyes of his watching you, like he was trying to read your thoughts.
That heavy silence stretched between you again and now that you were past the whole “hating him for his overwhelming hotness” thing, that just left you with that awkward middle school crush feeling where you lost the ability to articulate any rational thought when you were around someone like him.
“I should head home,“ you stated before getting up from your chair slowly, hoping he’d stop you. You’d made it about two steps before you stopped, that magnetic pull of his preventing you from getting too far out of reach. You took a deep breath and with as much courage as you could muster you turned around, shooting him the first genuine smile all night.
And the look Bucky gave you then would have made you absolutely livid if it hadn’t made you so weak in the knees.
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