an embarrassment of riches

“All good here, Tones,” you reply discreetly, lips moving almost indistinguishably as you flutter your eyelashes at a curiously familiar passerby, his salt and pepper hair pushed away from what is admittedly a very handsome face. Eyes greener than freshly cut apples give you a thorough once over and you hide your smirk behind a sip of rosé when you feel the heat of his gaze linger on your cleavage and the curve of your ass. You brush past him carefully, slow enough for him to be able to catch a whiff of peach and patchouli, and you don’t even have to look back to know that he’s turned his head to watch your hips sway back and forth as you walk away from him.

“Bucky, are you in position?” Steve asks the same moment that you meet his baby blues from across the room, and you have to take a beat to appreciate the way that his perfectly pressed black tux frames his body. The thickness of his facial hair has been shaved, exposing the defined lines of his jaw and the softness of his skin. His blonde locks have been cropped close to his head, and you can’t believe that this is the same long-haired, bearded man that you went to watch Hamilton with last week. When he notices the way that you’re staring at him, your best friend grins bashfully, a rosy wash coloring his milky skin. 

A trail of fire burns your spine and you have to bite your lip to prevent your face from splitting in half, feeling a wash of green settle on your skin and seep through your pores. You glance over your shoulder demurely, looking away shyly when you meet the eyes of your admirer. He wets his bottom lip as he regards you, tipping his glass to you ever so slightly in a silent greeting and you return the gesture happily, ignoring the way that Steve’s eyebrow has arched in amusement out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bucky? You in position?” Tony asks this time, confusion lacing the tone of his voice.

And that’s when you feel it: a flood of icy blue creeping up on you from behind that almost knocks you off of your feet, a wave so strong that it shakes your entire body. The cold ocean air is so salty that you have to gulp down some champagne to chase away the briny taste that fills your mouth. You’d like to think that it’s Steve, watching your back for any potential danger but you know better. This feeling is reserved for one man alone: an intense gaze framed by sooty lashes that sweep his cheeks, a hard jaw squared at the sight of your dress brushing the bare skin of your thigh as you prepare to sidle up to a stranger, a stranger that should be him. 

Or at least he thinks so. Your relationship with Bucky has been difficult to put it kindly, but tumultuous to put it plainly. You could not for the life of you understand why he was so cold towards you from the moment you stepped foot in the Compound, especially since his best friend, the human embodiment of a ray of goddamn sunshine, had warmed up to you so quickly. You’d tried to be nice time and time again only to see your metaphorical olive branch get snapped in half by the strong vibranium of his arm and the steel in his eyes. 

Once, because it had been bothering you so much, you asked Steve why his best friend hated you so much to which he frowned and then barked out a laugh. 

“He doesn’t hate you, doll,” he let you know. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”

And that same day, you’d knocked on the door to Bucky’s apartment and when he’d opened it shirtless and scowling, you took the risk and captured his lips with yours. To this day, the shock on his face is ingrained in your memory, as is the way he took you apart on his kitchen counter only to never put you back together again, forcing you to constantly come back to him in hopes that one day, he will.

He hasn’t yet. Instead, every time he kicks you out of his room after he undoes the strings that hold your body together, you feel more broken than before and then promise yourself that you won’t come back to him seeking some kind of twisted validation: that you will build yourself back up. You’re usually okay for a few days, able to avoid him by slipping through unused hallways or taking the stairs rather than the elevator. But then you’ll see him, golden skin slick with sweat and those pretty eyes stuck on you and you’ve fallen right back into the trap he sets up for you over and over again. 

You compared him to a drug once. Steve didn’t like that. 

He’s seen enough tears roll down your cheeks to know that Bucky’s not good for you but what he refrains to tell you is that you’re not good for him either. Bucky is complicated and while you tell him over and over again that you understand that, Steve doesn’t think that you do. You haven’t seen him hit rock bottom in the middle of the night, silently crying and fighting sleep because he doesn’t want to wake up in the morning. You don’t notice the way that he flinches ever so slightly when someone sets off fireworks outside - Steve has banned them from his birthday entirely but there’s always someone. And he knows that you sure as hell don’t realize how hard Bucky stares at you whenever you walk into a room, nor how quickly his head turns when your name is mentioned. 

But he can’t fault you. Bucky doesn’t let you see him like that.

Every fiber in his body cares so deeply about what you think of him because you’re everything that he’s ever wanted. You make the hard days easier and his dark days, though plentiful, that much brighter and it’s intoxicating and you’re so beautiful. You’re so goddamn beautiful that he blinks extra hard whenever you show some skin and has to steady his breathing every single time he sees your fucking face, and he knows he shouldn’t keep punishing himself by letting you get so close but he can’t help it. He once compared you to a drug because he doesn’t know how on earth he’s supposed to give up the love that threatens to knock him over the minute he thinks about you.

Steve didn’t like that. 

And so here you stand, your spine straightening forcibly at the feeling of his gaze on you as you twirl your drink in your glass like you don’t feel it. Steve’s more than aware, eyes boring a hole through your head, but you studiously ignore him and take a sip to distract yourself. You don’t want to think about him because right now; you have a job to do and you cannot risk being distracted by a man who doesn’t even love you back. 

“Buck?”

That’s Steve, making sure that his best friend isn’t dead but he knows that he isn’t because he can hear his breathing. It’s heavy and labored as if somebody is sitting on his chest and Steve knows that it’s because his blunt nails are digging into the flesh of his palms. The subtle grinding of his teeth is audible and Steve wants so badly to tell him to stop purely on an impulsive level, but he bites his tongue because he doesn’t know if anyone else can hear it.

“M’here,” Bucky forces out between gritted teeth before sighing softly. Steve can almost feel him relax his entire face through the comms and sighs right along with him. “I’ve got eyes on the honeypot.” 

“Okay?” Tony draws out the word, obviously bewildered from the interaction that’s just gone down. “Sweetcheeks, are you ready?”

The breath in your lungs leaves your body all at once as you refocus your eyes on the green-eyed fifty-something-year-old who is currently scanning the room, obviously searching for something. When your gazes lock, his lips spread to reveal a set of too-white veneers that almost blind you from where you’re standing but tactfully, you smile coyly and sashay towards the flight of stairs. As your heels click steadily against the marble, you hear measured footsteps about five stairs behind you. You allow a smirk to curve onto your face because you’ve got him and you know it.

“Doll,” that’s Steve through your earpiece, “remember to stand by the window.”

You nod, knowing that he can see you and is actively watching you from downstairs. 

“Good luck, lovebug,” Tony encourages you. “Also, please be fast. I’d like to get home-”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Steve!” he gasps dramatically and you roll your eyes, tuning out the impending argument that you know you’ll have on your hands if you continue to listen to these children bicker.

You’ve made it to the top, putting some extra sway into the movement of your hips and turn a corner down a hallway lined by classic art and a series of ornate sconces that provide a dim, warm light that makes you glimmer like a goddess as you strut towards the dead end of the corridor, towards a huge curved window that you recognize from the pictures that you were given yesterday. 

Sighing, you lean your hands on the windowsill as you hear his footsteps get progressively louder behind you. You didn’t anticipate the rain when you were making this plan, but you think it’s more than fitting to match your mood. While it’s true that you’re stunning and look the part tonight, you sure as hell don’t feel it. Your soul, usually vibrant and colorful in golds and reds, has dimmed into dark greys and blues, the cold hands of despondency choking the life out of you each passing day. 

It’s tiring to have someone consume your thoughts like this every waking second of every single day but you’re around him all the time and you’re sure that even if you weren’t, he’d still occupy so much space in your mind. You want so badly to break down the walls that he’s built so high around himself but it’s hard when you can walk past him on any given day and he can act like he doesn’t even know you who are, especially when the night before he confessed his love to you with your hands tied above your head while his hips slam into yours. 

It’s fine, though. You’ve made it clear how you feel and when you did, he looked you dead in the eye and told you to get the fuck out of his room. That one hurt the most. It took a while for you be okay with that, Steve and Nat and Wanda talking you through it and you had resolutely decided that it was the last time you’d go back to him because you’d never felt pain like that before in your life: a supernova inside of your chest that killed all of the surrounding stars that were beacons of hope in a sea of darkness. 

You were back in his bed two nights later.

But when he’d insisted on holding you for a beat like he always does after he’s done using you, you refused, gathering your clothes and walking back to your room with your head held high and without a backward glance. Granted, you’d cried afterward but that didn’t matter. You’d done it, taken the steps to free yourself emotionally from the clutches of a man who is too complacent and inconsiderate to care about anything, even himself.

What you didn’t know though is that as the door slammed behind you, Bucky let a few tears roll down his cheeks, too shocked to wipe them away because his worst nightmare ultimately came true. You finally realized that you were too good for him and everything that he has to offer you pales in comparison to what anyone else can provide. And you deserve it all, the entire world and he would steal the moon and all the stars in the sky for you if it meant that you would spare him another glance.

That was two weeks ago.

And when Tony, completely oblivious to your situation, had summoned Steve, Bucky, and yourself to the briefing room for a mission, you’d contemplated begging Dr. Cho to fake a way out for you but eventually decided against it. You’ve done enough running away and you’re determined to show Bucky that he no longer has that effect on you. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was mortified but a part of him was more than eager to spend some more time with the person he loves so deeply. It would be an opportunity to work closely alongside you and hopefully rekindle what was so abruptly lost. That is until he realized that Tony planned to use you as a honeypot; then, it was an incensed rage that gave way to crippling jealousy masked by a poker face. 

And as he stares at the way you look longingly at the stormy night sky with glassy eyes, he can’t help the sad smile that grows on his face because you can’t be real: you’re magnificent and headstrong and compassionate and you were all his until you weren’t.

“I’m in position,” you say under your breath, tongue running over your glossy lips and Bucky’s breath hitches inaudibly at the sight, remembering how those soft lips felt on his and then how they felt wrapped around his length.

“I see you,” he replies with a tremor in his voice that he swallows because he means it: he sees you - he finally sees you and until this moment, he hadn’t because he was too afraid to. 

Your eyelids slide shut at the sound of his deep tone because you still love him and you think you always will. But that thought is automatically thrown out of your head when you feel a warm hand fall on your waist, though a part of you wishes that it was colder and made out of vibranium. You shake your head to regain your composure and keep yourself focused on the task at hand. His body presses itself into your back and as he not so subtly pushes his crotch into the curve of your behind, you want to gag so badly but refrain because you have a job to do.

“Beautiful night, huh?” his lips lower to your ear as his other hand joins the first, slightly lower and curving down to rest on your stomach. 

“I think so,” you say confidently, reveling in the sound of the rolling thunder and the brief flash of lightning that glows from within the clouds, thinking fondly of a certain blonde-haired god who still owes you a bottle of mead. 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” his reply is smooth and you laugh despite yourself, knowing that you’ve got him as he traces up the column of your neck with a thick finger. You lean your head to the side to provide him better access as his lips gently touch your sensitive skin, kissing a trail down to your exposed shoulder as he slides the strap of your dress down. A light sigh leaves your mouth and you turn around slowly to meet the breathtaking verdant of his eyes.

“What’s your name, honey?”

He runs his nose along the line of your jaw and you sigh again, running your hands along his shoulders so they link around his neck and your fingers play with the hair at his nape as you spin him so that his back is to the window. You could bother with formalities but you already know who he is so you push him down so that his lips can connect with yours. 

Admittedly, he’s a good kisser but you can’t help but think about a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed supersoldier and how he used to hold you differently: gentler, sometimes like he was afraid that you would shatter right before his eyes. Your target’s tongue slips into your mouth and you moan loudly, playing up your pleasure as he gropes at your ass and breasts like an animal.

“Bucky, do you have eyes on Y/N?”

There’s silence over the comms other than a grunt and Steve wants to roll his eyes but he feels for his best friend, knowing that you’re in the process of seducing one of HYDRA’s highest-ranking members, so he allows it. 

As the man releases your lips from his, you can feel his dick press against your hip as he rucks your dress up, sliding his hand inside the slit that goes up to your leg to grab your bare ass. You gasp and he pulls you further into him, your chest heaving as he plays with the pretty lace of your panties.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” he heaves, hands grabbing blindly for the zipper on the back of your dress. You want so badly to roll your eyes because as handsome as he is, he’s evidently very desperate and a little sloppy, definitely too trusting as well. You vaguely wonder when Bucky’s going to take his shot from his sniper position on the roof of the adjacent building but are distracted by clumsy fingers stroking at your core. 

“Such a slut,” he moans and you cringe, not letting him move his hand any further to the side because then he’ll feel the knife discreetly strapped to your thigh and most likely start asking questions that he has no business knowing the answers to. You grin up at him and lean back in for another kiss, hoping that Bucky takes action soon so that you don’t have to spend any more unnecessary time with him.

But then he chokes and your eyes draw together in confusion until they zero in on the clean bullet hole in his forehead. You stop yourself from squealing as a river of blood pours out of his mouth and you jump back quickly as he collapses onto his knees, the life already completely drained out of his eyes as his dead body hits the floor.

Now you’re on edge, the hairs on your arms standing up as tension ripples through your spine. You’d done what you were told, pushed him up against the window so that he was leaning on it and Bucky would have an easy, clean target. You weren’t aware that this man had any other enemies - the briefing should’ve covered that - and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought that your final moments might be right now.

But he was obviously shot from the front, so his murderer is standing behind you and, for some reason, hasn’t shot you too - yet.

Tired of waiting, you snatch your knife from your thigh holster and get ready to attack, turning on your heel and then promptly stopping in your tracks when you see who the culprit is.

“Bucky, what the fuck?!” 

You throw your hands up in exasperation, ignoring how your pussy clenches at the sight of him clad in all-black tactical gear that hugs every muscle on his hard body, his hair loose around his face as a feral look glazes over his pretty eyes. He blinks slowly and deliberately at you, eyelashes kissing his cheekbones the way that you want to, and your breath hitches when you feel those same white-hot blue flames that light your entire body ablaze. 

The way that he growls makes you shiver but you play it off because he’s risking the entire operation for what?

Bucky stalks towards you predatorily, his eyes stormy and shoulders squared as he clenches his jaw. You open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind again until a gloved hand wraps around your neck, thumb pressing on your pulse as he narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head to the side condescendingly. When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth and with none of the patience of his golden-haired counterpart.

“If my primary objective wasn’t to protect you, I’d kill you.”

“Me?” you snort disbelievingly because who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? “You weren’t protecting shit, Bucky - and I should kill you because what the shit were you thinking leaving your post and strutting up in here like you’re big and bad? Give me a fucking break - you jeopardized this entire goddamn operation-”

“Don’t speak to me like that or I can guarantee you that you’re gonna regret it.”

“Oh, come on!” you groan, the tip of your nose touching his ever so slightly. All of those strong feelings of longing and adoration you were feeling for this man have been thrown out the window as you continue to spew expletives in your sudden fit of emotion. “You’re such an asshole! I had this one, Bucky, I fucking had him! And what, you decided to screw me over because-”

“You were getting too close-”

“Eat my fucking ass, Bucky,” you sneer nastily, staring dead in his eyes as an unbridled rage consumes you. “That is such horseshit and you know it. I’m a fucking honeypot, for god’s sake! I cannot believe that your ego is too fucking big for you to realize that you’re not the only one who can do a fucking job-”

“Shut up,” Bucky orders, tightening his grip so that his fingers dig into your skin - it doesn’t hurt but you’re not done.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, quieter now because you realize that screaming down a hallway with such high ceilings will more than likely blow your cover. “You ruin every single thing I ever do because you hate me for a reason that, by the way, is still entirely unknown to me-”

“Y/N, shut your fucking mouth-”

“I mean, where do you get off-?”

“He’s fucking dead, isn’t he?” Bucky interrupts, face turning red as a result of your heated interaction and he gestures wildly to the corpse bleeding out on the floor. Your chest heaves angrily because you still have more to say to him and you’ve never been so infuriated in your life.

“Yeah, but at what cost, Bucky? Huh? When you decided to fuck up the plan, did you seriously take a moment to think about the consequences of someone seeing you? You came in here presumably from the roof dressed like that and you expect nobody to have noticed? This is the most reckless thing-”

“Can you forget about the mission for just one second-?”

“Why should I? That’s why we’re here-”

“It’s not about the goddamn mission, Y/N,” he breathes, your lips only inches away from each other as he shakes his head, thumb stroking the skin of your neck so tenderly that you furrow your brow in confusion.

“Then what is it about, Bucky?” you respond, still annoyed but now blinking curiously at him when he closes his eyes and throws his head back in frustration. “Because if it’s not about that then-”

“I didn’t like the way he was touching you,” he blurts out, eyes glued to the carpet behind you where your target’s blood is staining the rug. “S’that what you wanted to hear?”

“Oh.”

It’s all you can say but your smaller hand comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is still attached to your throat. You told yourself that you wouldn’t fall for this again yet here you are, blatantly back on your bullshit and you have to shake your head a little to clear your thoughts.

“You have no right,” you whisper, not moving your hand but leaning in just a little so that your lips are only a breath away from his.

“I know,” is all he says before leaning in and holding you hostage with his lips and the lightning outside flashes just as your eyes flutter closed, your heart rate spiking when he sighs into your mouth, giving back all the breath he stole out of your lungs when you met him for the first time all those months ago. He caresses the softness of your mouth with the roughness of his slightly chapped lips, the contrast making you tighten your grip on his hand. 

You’ve always thought it was incredible how easily he could tear you apart with just a kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips, asking for permission before you open your mouth to his. The moment he licks into your mouth, his other hand travels lower than your waist to grab the flesh of your ass, pushing you into him so that he doesn’t know where you end and where he begins. The two of you are acutely aware of how right this feels, how safe you feel in each other’s arms even while a man bleeds out of the floor behind you. 

When Bucky finally lets you up to breathe, he presses another kiss to your jaw and nuzzles your cheek with his nose affectionately, almost like he can’t help it. When his teeth catch on your earlobe, he leans in further to whisper in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, m’sorry. Didn’t mean to push you away.”

“S’okay.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you forgive him, but you know these past few weeks have been torture for the both of you. Your heart takes flight and the smile that spreads on your face is filled with pure glee, his hand curving around to cup the back of your neck and pull his lips back to yours when a cough sounds from the other end of the hallway. Bucky instinctively pushes you slightly behind him to shield your body with his, pulling out his twin TEC-9’s from the holsters on his sides and pointing them at-

Steve and Tony.

“Okay, sugar cookie,” Tony slow claps, making his way to stand in front of the two of you while Steve hangs back a few steps behind him with a mildly amused look on his face. “Care to tell me why your little boyfriend over there messed up the entire plan?”

“He’s not-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, honeybear,” he scolds you but you can’t take him seriously with all of his corny little nicknames. “You guys really screwed the pooch here.”

“Where even is- oh,” Steve looks for the body before seeing the target face up and eyes open on the ground over Bucky’s shoulder. “Well, okay. At least we got him-”

“We probably shouldn’t have killed him though,” Tony muses, walking over to toe at his corpse casually, hands in his pockets as he nudges his arm with the tip of his five-figure dress shoes. “That’s okay - it was our last resort but I guess that works too. Did you at least get the flash drive?”

‘Uh…” you trail off, looking away guiltily because you got completely sidelined by the man in front of you who smells so good - like pine and musk and something distinctly Bucky - maybe mint but something a little more bitter. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no,” Tony points at you and gives you a look, bending down to retrieve the memory stick from the pocket of the dead man on the floor. “What is this, amateur hour? Anyway, I’m bored, let’s go home. Buttercup, you can tell me all about it on the way back. I need a nap.”

And with that, he takes off, disappearing around the corner and you make eye contact with Steve nervously, worried that he’s going to reprimand you but instead, he just smiles softly. 

“I’ll get the body,” he nods at the two of you. “You guys can head out.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you kiss him on the cheek and Bucky claps him on the shoulder gratefully, grabbing your hand as you walk shoulder to shoulder after Tony. 

“I meant what I said back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I really am sorry, doll,” he lets you know, stopping in front of the French doors that lead to the balcony. “I’ve been a real ass about all this. You were right to yell at me and I know I shouldn’t have gotten so mad but… I just- I didn’t know what to do. He was touchin’ on you the way I want to be and it was just hard to watch and- I- shit, I mean- I love you, darlin’, I really do mean that.”

Your eyes start to water because this is all you’ve wanted from him for the past however long you’ve been dancing around your feelings for each other.

“You really hurt me, Buck,” you say, hand cupping his cheek as your eyes dart between his. “I- things aren’t just gonna magically going to go back to how they were before.”

“I know,” he inhales deeply, “and I deserve that.”

“How about we start slow?

His eyebrows draw together and he purses his lips.

“What did you have in mind?”

“You could start by taking me on a date,” the corners of your lips threaten a smile and Bucky nods enthusiastically, kissing your palm. 

“Sounds good to me.”

You can’t help it anymore and throw your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours and basking in the heat of his mouth on yours, passion and desire running through your veins and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. 

The thunder booms outside and makes you jump a little, breaking your kiss, and Bucky tugs you into his chest before lifting you off your feet, your legs around his thick waist and his even thicker arms supporting you from the backs of your thighs. You giggle happily, drunk on love and euphoria.

“Maybe Thor’ll have to join us,” Bucky jokes, watching another bolt of lightning shoot through the sky. “He doesn’t seem too happy.”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m all yours.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“...God, I’m gonna fuck you so hard when we get home-”

“Bucky!”

--

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