You scowled, facing the computer screen. It was going to take a while for the files to be copied as it was struggling to move past ten percent in the last fifteen minutes. You felt Bucky behind you— very close, as his sigh fanned your cheeks and the tiny hairs on your neck rose to the sensation. This was taunting. Bucky exactly knows what he was doing, playing around the not so secret anymore as Sam and his wide mouth basically declared to the whole lot that you have a crush on James Buchanan Barnes.

Crush? You shuddered at the thought, praying, hoping, that even if it’s too late that Bucky knows, he won’t still hear it from you. It wasn’t exactly big— just a little adoration for somebody who has been nice and funny and sweet and has the whole bad boy aura that you tried so hard to stomp on because this isn’t elementary school. It’s horrible enough that Bucky knew and now he has been all cocky.

Bucky sighed again, and you twisted your head, foolishly close to closing the gap between his cheek and your lips. That little twist is enough for you to feel his stubble, and your knees buckled at the thought of actually feeling it. Bucky smirked, eyed your lips as he bit his lower lip softly. He looks marvelous.

“You look stupid,” you mumbled, turning around and pushing him away from you, “Ever heard of personal space? Jesus.”

By the corner of your eyes, you saw that Bucky toppled over laughing, and you pursed your lips in an attempt to stop yourself from smiling. It made your heart wreck to think that he was messing with you, and it has also stupidly made your heart go crazy. He has never been like this towards you, even before he knew. Though, there would be some inside jokes and late night conversations— Bucky has never been this cocky or confident. Officially, you hated and loved this Bucky.

You threw a pen at Bucky who has yet to stop laughing, and he even laughed harder as the pen hit him right at the forehead. Slowly, he sighed and chuckled softly to himself as he bent down to get the pen. He walked over to you, playing with the pen with his fingers. He stopped right infront of you, and this stupid man could have just placed it on the large table anywhere, but he placed it right behind you that he has to bend forward a little, his huge figure overwhelming yours as he reached to the middle of the table to place the pen there.

When he dropped the pen in the middle, he slowly leaned away, never looking away and just straight down to your eyes. Cocky him is actually the worst.

“Personal space!”

He nodded, tilting his head slightly as he perched on the table. His legs dangled off of the ground, and you can’t help but think of how he’s at your height now. He squeezed your arm, making you look up from the computer as you tried to avoid him.

“That hurt, you know?” He said, proudly, pointing to his forehead. “Nice aim.”

The way he smiled could end your world and you hated him for it. You followed him, and now you were sitting cross legged by the edge of the table. He started to flip out his weapons, laying them on the table. He fished out a piece of cloth, and he looks ridiculous cleaning them as the building shaked underneath.

“Really?” You asked, grabbing his knife. It was spotless. “You’re really cleaning?”

“Have you got anything to do?”

“I’m waiting for the files to be copied?”

He looked up from his weapons, and smiled. “And I’m waiting for you, waiting for the files to be copied.”

“Sure,” you snickered, practicing with his knife.

The screen mockingly flashed twenty five percent of completion, and you shook your head away.

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The knife,” he said, pointing as you threw it in the air and caught it perfectly. He raised his brow in amusement, and he smiled playfully. “Maybe I’ll let you keep that so you’ll have something to remember me by.”

He chuckled as he watched you make a face, handing back his knife which he refused to accept. “I don’t want your knife!”

“Maybe you like something else?”

Oh, boy.

He wiggled his brows in amusement and suggestion, and he watched you completely turn beet red which he secretly love. Just his words were enough to make you blush, and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from making anymore comments.

In your case, you did know you were blushing and you hated it. So you played along.

“Two could play this game.”

Whatever this game of cockiness, confidence— around that hidden secret Bucky now dwells upon.

You stood up, and walked over to where he was on the table. As if on instinct, he opened his legs wider as you stood between them. He took everything in him to not wrap his legs around your waist, thinking that it’ll make his heart burst.

His breath hitching, caught in his throat as he watched you graze your tongue on your lower lip. His followed your lips, and he felt something inside of him awaken. He has tried to keep it down— that feeling, that no one should know that he likes you. Even he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, because look at where it got him now. He regrets his presumptuous behavior when he learned that you like him, now he was wrapped around your finger as he felt himself melt in the color of your eyes. He firmly placed his hands on his side, smoothly leaning back.

“Thank you for the knife,” you whispered, leaning in. You twisted the ends of his locks, and you blissfully smiled at the way he cleared his throat in shock. “What else do you think I like?”

He sighed loudly, calming himself down. He doesn’t know who to act around you. He doesn’t know who to carry himself when he’s beaten down. He doesn’t know what to do once he felt your hands rest on top of his thighs. He sighed once more before staring at you, finally making a decision to play.

“Me,” Bucky breathed, leaning in even closer.

If and only if one of you ever move an inch, your noses would be touching, lips would be on top of lips, and hands would have a feast on bodies.

You inhaled. You can’t back down now. You can’t say let go of this game now that Bucky was leading. He leaned on his hands cooly, and you felt ever so slightly at how his legs tightened around your waist. There was pressure now. And heat coiling down.

You needed to win so that he can see that it was all a joke. Your crush on him? A joke, and you wanted it to die down so you can stop making a fool of yourself every time when he rests his blue eyes on yours. Every little thing about him makes you stop in your doing— and you don’t want to stop now. You won’t allow him to catch you in your silly act, and you don’t want to admit to him that you like him.

“Am I that transparent? I want you. I need you,” you whispered on his ear. His metal arm caught the sliver of your skin as your top hitched up for a little, making you shiver with the contact of his metal hand to your waist. “Oh, baby. Oh, baby.”

“Careful.”

It was your turn to get your words caught in your throat. His deep voice tingled in your mind, feeling it vibrate as he caught your cheek with his hand. His thumb rested on the corner of your lips. He smirked, when your eyes appeared bewildered for a second and that flash of certainty and spirit is back again.

The game plays on.

“Oh, scary,” you breathed, feeling your heart pound. You controlled your breathing, as you placed your hand on top of his to get it off of your burning and hot skin. Daringly, you placed it over the other side of your waist.

He was holding you.

He’s breathing hard.

He’s holding you hostage by the waist and he can’t act.

“Careful.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” you whispered, purposefully leaning in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Any word and the distance between the two of you will close. If he would even lick his lips, he would eventually touch yours. It was passed by the noses touching since he grabbed you closer by the waist. His hands were both on a war of hot and cold and you loved the sensation that the coldness even made the hair on your neck rise. His legs wrapped around yours completely and his hand rised up to flick your hair on your back.

The top that you were wearing now has coolly exposed your neck, and the blush creeping up from your chest to the face has made an appearance. Bucky loved the idea that you were blushing, hot, and wicked for him. Bucky felt your body come closer and closer, his lips just right on top of yours. He feels himself getting lost in the game, that he can’t control himself, he can’t get over the fact now that your hands has been sliding upwards to his chest, to his neck, and to his stubble that he was proud of. Your fingers tickled his stubble, and he was a breathing mess— melting under your touch, your scent, your skin, and on your lips that if he, oh, if he would say a word, then it’ll be your name before he crashes his lips on to yours.

A soft ding ruined the moment, and he watched you slap away his thigh and he confusedly unwrapped his legs from you. You pinched his hand away, and you slapped his metal arm from your waist.

God, you’ve never seen Bucky so flustered. He was red. His dark and tough exterior is now replaced with blushes and hitched breathings.

You smiled at him, proudly, and patted his cheek with your hand. He blinked a couple of times, as you patted his chest twice. He watched as you hunch over the screens and your hands swiftly typed some more things. He cleared his throat, standing up as he paced behind you. You felt the urge to not look sideways at him, but your mind betrayed you, and you took up his confused face as he continued to pace.

One you were finished, you took the flashdrive off of the computer and cut of the wires of it. Bucky hasn’t said a word as you walked to him. He stopped pacing, stunned, as he felt your hand pat his cheek again. He watched your lips turned to a satisfied smile, as you tucked in the flashdrive safe his pocket.

God.

He is powerless before you.

Only you could make him like this.

And he’s admitting it to himself that he needs to stand up for himself, to admit that he likes you for as long as he could remember— but he’s weak for you.