Prizzy 💜

After getting him to agree to going out with you and some friends, you end up talking for another hour before you doze off on his counter.

James noticed you had fallen asleep almost immediately after your conversation ended.

The shop was quiet, the hum of the overhead lights and occasional drip from a pipe being the only sounds.

He watched you for a moment - head resting on his workbench, breathing slow and even. You looked peaceful like that.

Carefully, he grabbed an old flannel jacket that hung on a hook nearby - one of his many spare clothes kept in the shop - and draped it over your shoulders as gently as possible so he wouldn't wake you up.

You mumbled something in your sleep but didn’t wake up, your body tired from the emotions and the baking.

James stood there for a moment, watching you sleep.

He didn't have the heart to wake you up, not when you looked so tired and peaceful after everything tonight.

Quietly, he turned off some of the overhead lights to make it less bright in the shop before returning to work on the car, but quieter this time.

An hour passed, then another.

James worked quietly, stealing glances at you as you slept. He was surprised he was able to maintain his focus on the work without messing up much.

He should probably wake you up and send you home. It was well past midnight and it was chilly out.

But you looked so peaceful, curled up in that coat, head resting on the counter.

Eventually you stirred when his grease-stained fingers tapped lightly on your shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, voice low so as not to startle you awake too suddenly. "You're gonna wake up with a stiff neck if you sleep like that."

He studied your face in the dim shop lighting, peaceful but definitely asleep. He hesitated before speaking again, "It's late… I can take you home."

You groaned softly, shifting at the taps. “You go.. I’m sleeping here.” you mumbled.

James exhaled through his nose, torn between amusement and concern.

"You can't sleep on a mechanic's workbench," he argued quietly. "It's not comfortable."

He crouched down beside your chair so you'd be at eye level if you opened your eyes.

"Come on… I'll drive you home."

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking unhurriedly to focus on his face. Then your eyes flicked to the surroundings, and you remembered where you were. “Yeah, okay.” you replied slowly.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face and eyes. “Sorry.. I was just.. dozed off.”

"S'okay," James said, standing back up.

He grabbed his car keys from the counter and turned off the remaining lights in the shop.

You slowly stood up, trudging behind him half asleep. The cool night air hit you both as he unlocked his beat-up truck outside. You held the coat around yourself tighter.

"Hope you don't mind riding shotgun. It's kinda messy in there." he said.

You just hummed in response and opened the door, sliding next to the toolbox and random manuals on the middle seat.

James got in on the driver's side and started the truck, cranking the heater up on full blast to warm up the cab.

He glanced at you, noticing how rumpled your clothes looked and how your hair was messy from sleeping on the counter.

"You look half-dead," he teased, pulling out onto the main street to drive you home.

“Feel half dead too. Like my hands are gonna fall off.” you replied, leaning your head against the window.

"Yeah, baking'll do that to you," James said with a small chuckle. "They probably hurt from all the kneading."

The truck rumbled along the quiet streets of Raybridge - most houses dark at this hour, just streetlights flickering in silence.

He reached over absentmindedly and turned up the radio slightly, some country station playing softly.

You closed your eyes, somewhat recognizing the faint tune playing. “Is that..”

James glanced at you when your voice trailed off, noticing the faint recognition in your tone.

"Yeah, that's 'oklahoma' by Carly Pearce."

He didn't realize you still remembered country music - much less the same cheesy country ballad that used to play on repeat every summer during high school road trips with Steve and him.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Wow, been a while since I heard that.” you murmured.

James exhaled through his nose, keeping his eyes on the road.

The song took him back too. Back to those long summer mornings, speeding down the highway. The endless blue sky and hot August sun. The open windows and blaring radio.

You in the backseat, laughing and carefree.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "Been a while."

You hummed along with the song, not really remembering the lyrics. But it felt nice.

James listened, half-smiling to himself.

It was strange, sitting beside you in the truck in the middle of the night, driving through the empty streets of his hometown to your house.

It was almost like no time had passed since the days when they used to hang out together as kids.

The truck turned a corner, pulling into your neighborhood. You didn’t even realize you had arrived when he stopped the truck in front of your house.

“Oh. Already?” you murmured, turning to him.

“It’s only a few blocks away.” he shrugged. You just dumbly nodded and got out of the truck.

The cold air wrapped around you once again, making you shiver slightly. You automatically held (his) coat around you tighter, without even realizing.

“Thanks, for dropping me and all. I’ll see you later?” you said.

James nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah. Later."

His voice was casual, but there was something hesitant in it - like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

He waited until you were safely inside before pulling into his driveway.

A few evenings later

James arrived at Wanda's Diner early, sitting alone in a corner booth.

He had agreed to meet you here for dinner before your big night out later.

The place was still quiet - only a few regulars and the staff milling about.

He drummed his fingers on the table, glancing toward the door every few seconds like he expected you to walk through any second now.

Meanwhile, you were late by 5 minutes, simply because you lost your earrings and had to borrow your mother’s.

After stopping & asking people for directions the umpteenth time, you found the diner. It was quaint, not too empty and not too hole-in-the-wall.

You ignored the few stares coming your way, tugging the overcoat tighter around you before walking in.

James spotted you the second you walked in.

He straightened up, raising a hand slightly to catch your attention before gesturing for you to come over.

The diner wasn't packed, but there were enough people that it had that cozy small-town vibe, warm chatter and the smell of coffee filling the air.

Wanda herself was behind the counter, wiping down mugs when she saw James wave at someone new.

You spotted him almost immediately. He was wearing a leather jacket that looked unfairly attractive in the low lights. His hair was tousled in a way that suggested he'd headed straight after work, running a hand through it just a few times. You tore your eyes away from the dark jeans and pale shirt, walking over with a small smile. “Hey.”

"Hey," James replied, scooting over to make room for you in the booth.

You took off your coat, which had an effect on James that you didn't notice. His eyes lingered on the way that the neckline showed off your collarbones beautifully, a dainty silver necklace settled in the middle. He had never seen you in navy blue but now he was convinced it was your colour. The hem brushed gracefully against your knees as you crossed your legs over each other.

Wanda appeared at your side almost immediately with a friendly smile. "You must be her! James talks about you all the time."

James shot Wanda a look, cheeks slightly pink as she chuckled and left to get menus.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

"Wow, I didn't know I was popular." you said with an amused smile.

"Wanda exaggerates," James muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's always saying stuff like that."

Wanda returned with two menus and a pot of coffee. "What can I get you two? The usual for you, James?"

James nodded at her before looking back at you expectantly. The menu was laminated - slightly sticky from years of use listing breakfast specials and diner classics.

You flipped through it with mild curiosity.

“I don’t really know what’s good here.” you said, looking up to him for suggestions.

James hummed, looking at you thoughtfully for a moment before turning to Wanda.

"We'll take two bacon cheeseburgers, extra pickles and cheese fries on the side. And a chocolate milkshake," he said confidently, knowing exactly what you liked. Your mouth fell open slightly, and you tilted your head.

Wanda nodded appreciatively. "Coming right up, darlin'," she said before grabbing a notepad and leaving to put in the order.

James leaned back in the booth. "Still like pickles on your burgers, huh?"

“Actually, no. I got allergic to pickles last year.” you said, putting down the menu.

James' smirk disappeared, replaced by a frown.

"What? Seriously?" He asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"You're allergic to pickles..? But… you love pickles." He looked bewildered, trying to process the idea that the girl who had drowned every burger in an ocean of pickles was now allergic.

You just shrugged, holding back a smile as you toyed with him. “And chocolate too. My skin turns green if I drink a chocolate milkshake.” you said.

James blinked rapidly.

"You're kidding me," he said flatly, voice rising slightly in disbelief.

"No pickles? No chocolate shakes?" He counted them off on his fingers like this was a personal betrayal. "Who the hell are you anymore?"

The joke was obvious, but beneath it, there was real confusion.

You finally snorted at that. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. I didn’t grow any allergies in the city.” you said, mirth dancing in your eyes.

James let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling both relieved and annoyed.

"You little smartass…" He said exasperatedly, trying to fight back a grin. "You really had me going for a second there."

“Not my fault you are gullible.” you said with a shrug. Just then Wanda came in with the drink. Singular, because it was huge. Your eyes widened as you looked at the tall glass of milkshake.

“Are you kidding me? This much for 4.99?”

James watched your stunned face as Wanda placed the massive milkshake between you two.

"It's not just a shake," he explained proudly. "It's a Raybridge Classic - double thickness, extra whipped cream on top."

Wanda winked before walking off to grab the food.

James grabbed one of the straws and stuck it in through both layers of cream without hesitation, taking an immediate sip like this was completely normal behavior for him while you stared at the foam.

“That’s like a billion calories.” you murmured.

James smirked, licking whipped cream off his upper lip.

"Yeah? And?" He took another loud slurp from the straw before pushing it toward you.

"City girls count calories like that?" he teased, resting his chin on one hand as he watched you eye the shake suspiciously.

“I’m not counting, I’m just saying.” you said, taking a straw and poking it hesitantly. He just hummed, watching you. “This is gonna take like an hour of pilates to digest.” you added, but he just snorted.

"You gonna drink your half or what?" he teased, and you grumbled in response, before reluctantly sipping on the drink.

Your eyes widened immediately, because it was insanely good. “Holy shit.” you swore, a little too loudly.

James grinned triumphantly at your reaction.

"That’s the good stuff," he bragged.

"Told you Wanda's diner had the best stuff in town."

He leaned forward slightly over the table, looking way too pleased with himself as you kept drinking it like it was liquid gold.

Then suddenly - without warning - Wanda returned with two massive plates of food: bacon cheeseburgers piled high and golden cheese fries on top.

You eyed the amount of food on them with surprise. When she left you whispered to James, “You should’ve told me about the portion sizes here. Do they have endless food or something?”

James chuckled, unwrapping his burger.

"They don't do small portions here," he explained between bites. "Wanda believes in feeding people properly."

He gestured to the towering cheese fries.

"Eat up. If you leave any of this untouched, she'll be offended."

“This is borderline blackmail.” you mumbled, unwrapping your burger. “It’s too tall to even fit in a mouth properly.”

James raised an eyebrow at your comment, a smirk on his face as he leaned back in the booth.

"Sounds like quitter talk," he said, taking another enormous bite of his burger.

"You telling me you're afraid of a little cheeseburger? Don't tell me city life made you a softie."

You huffed indignantly. “Oh you wait, Bucky boy. Mama didn’t raise no quitter.” you said, before taking a big bite out of the cheeseburger.

The bacon was very greasy and cheese oozed from the sides, but you couldn’t help but find it delicious.

James watched, genuinely impressed as you tackled the oversized burger like a pro.

"Color me surprised. I thought that fancy city living would've turned you into a salad eater by now." he said with a chuckle, still mid-bite.

“Told you.” you mumbled with a stuffed mouth covered by your hand. Swallowing the bite was a slight challenge, but you managed it.

He took another sip of the milkshake before pushing it back toward your side of the table.

"You were always such a messy eater though - still got sauce on your chin," he added with an amused grin, gesturing vaguely near his own mouth.

You groaned and picked up a tissue to wipe it, but instead, ended up smearing it more. “See, this is why food should be proportional to the mouth size—”

You were cut off when he suddenly reached out to wipe the sauce off your chin. You froze for a moment, not expecting it, but he simply licked the sauce off his finger and continued to eat.

"Proportional food is for people who don't enjoy eating," he countered with a smirk. "This is fun food." He continued talking as if the last few seconds didn’t happen. You blinked before snapping back to the present.

James, on the other hand, decided to grab a handful of cheese fries and dunked them into the milkshake like some kind of culinary monster.

“What the fuck, James! You just ruined both of those.” you said, with a shocked laugh.

"It's all about balance - big bites mean more flavor at once."

“You are not right in the head.” you said, shaking your head.

James shrugged nonchalantly, taking another bite of his sacrilegious combination.

"You should try it, city girl. It's the future of cuisine I'm telling you."

“Yeah, right. Calories dipped in more calories? No, thank you. I don't know how you manage to eat all this and still look like that. It is so unfair.” you muttered.

James grinned proudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What? I'm a mechanic. Burning calories is my job." He flexed one arm jokingly to emphasize the point before immediately regretting it when he realized how try-hard that probably looked.

Fortunately or unfortunately, that was the moment your other friends decided to show up. You could tell from the loud chatter that immediately filled the diner when the door pushed open, that it was none other than Nat, Steve and Pietro.

Their gazes immediately landed on the both of you, and you were suddenly wrapped in cheerful hugs.

Steve was first - pulling you into a tight bear hug with that trademark Rogers smile. "It's really good to see you again." he said loudly over the noise.

Nat followed right after, squeezing your shoulders before planting two kisses on each cheek like an Italian aunt.

Pietro just kept bouncing around all of them shouting random greetings like his usual hyper self.

James watched the rowdy group of your friends with slight irritation.

He nodded in greeting to Steve and Pietro, who clapped him on the back.

"Barnes! You finally dragged yourself out of your depressing little shop to socialize," Steve said jokingly, giving him a knowing grin.

"We were starting to think you were marching onto widowhood." Pietro said, making us all snort.

You turned properly to greet them, especially your long time girl friend Natasha.

“You look gorgeous mama, couldn’t even tell you had 2 babies.” you said, squeezing her hand. She beamed at that. “Steve told me you met the little rascals.” she said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, they’re adorable. Spitting image of you if I might add.” you said, making Steve frown.

“They have my eyes, okay?” he said indignantly as you all walked out of the diner. Nat rolled her eyes at that.

“Yeah yeah.. two little eyes, as if I didn’t give them the rest of the body.” she said, smirking with her familiar gaze. Steve kissed her temple affectionately, making something tug in your chest.

“You guys make me sick.” James said flatly, making everyone laugh.

“Alright, heard we’re hitting the bars tonight.” Pietro said, rubbing his hands excitedly. “Your sister is right there, mister.” you said, making him rolling his eyes.

“It’s beneficial for her if I get a girl, might nag her less then.” he said, casually resting his arm across your shoulders. You chuckled as you walked towards James’ truck.

What you didn’t notice was that James didn’t laugh. In fact, his brows were pulled into more of a scowl.

That scowl deepened when Pietro called shotgun.

You squeezed in next to Natasha on the open back, stretching your legs.

“So, how have you been?” you asked, as the truck started up. Nat gave you an easy smile. “I’ve been.. busy. Two kids is no joke, especially when they’re as hyperactive as this one.” she said pointing at Steve.

You hummed, suddenly noticing the ring on her finger. “Oh.. you’re married?” you asked, going through multiple emotions in a span of a few seconds.

Nat and Steve chuckled at your face, as she put her hand in yours to properly show. “Well, yeah. Stevie proposed a long time ago, but it just felt right to have our kids know we’re Mr. & Mrs., y’know?” she said with a wide smile.

You were still stuck on the beautiful diamond ring.”When..” your voice came out a little small before you blinked. “Uh.. when did you get married?” you asked.

“We’re coming around on 3 years now.” Steve said with a wide smile, which you automatically responded to.

“Wow.. that’s great. Congratulations.” you said, the voice sounding forced to your ears but they didn’t seem to notice. You turned your head towards the surroundings, figuring that looking at the passing houses would somehow lessen the revelation of your friend getting married without you even knowing.

James parked the truck and everyone piled out onto the gravel lot of The Rusty Nail, Raybridge's only dive bar.

Neon signs flickered above them, casting a pink glow over the group as loud music thumped from inside.

You didn’t even realize when the truck came to a stop, the glowing neon lights snapping you out of the daze. You got out on auto pilot, plastering a smile to your lips.

"Alright!" Steve announced as you all got out. "Who's ready to have a real Raybridge night?"

Pietro cheered before running headfirst to the door. You chuckled at his enthusiasm before following after.

"Jesus, he's like a human bullet…" James muttered under his breath, watching Pietro disappear into the crowd.

Steve chuckled and clapped him on the back again. "It's gonna be fun," he said reassuringly.

James just grunted in response, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets as he followed them to the entrance.

Inside, the dive bar was crowded and loud - people laughing and yelling over the blaring rock music.

You were suddenly thankful that you had left your coat in the truck, because the crowd was thick.

"Ugh, it's packed in here," Nat said loudly over the music as she squeezed past a group of rowdy guys.

Steve turned to you with an excited grin. "You ever been to The Rusty Nail before?"

You shook your head, before replying loudly. “Looks more popular than James told me.”

Pietro was already at the bar ordering shots for everyone without asking first.

James hovered slightly behind you all, scanning the room like always. His gaze snapped to you when he heard his name being said.

He leaned in closer to hear you over the music. "Yeah, it gets like this every weekend," he admitted with a shrug.

Steve grinned and shouted above the noise, "First round’s on me!"

Nat immediately raised her hand. "I want a tequila sunrise!"

Pietro was already chugging his first shot before anyone could even react.

“I’ll take a Vodka Cran.” you said, ready to enjoy the night.

The bartender nodded and started making drinks as the guys called out their orders - James going for a simple beer as usual.

"We gotta get a table," he said to the group as they waited for their drinks.

But the place was so busy and packed, it was gonna be hard to find anywhere to sit.

Nat was surveying the place like a hawk trying to spot an open area.

"I don't even know where to start…" she said, exasperated.

Pietro's eyes suddenly lit up as he spotted something across the bar. "Oh, I got it."

"You got what?" James asked suspiciously, eyebrows raised.

I followed his gaze. "There's people there already."

Pietro bounced on his toes like an excited puppy. "Yeah, but they're about to leave!" he declared confidently.

And sure enough - the couple at that small corner table stood up moments later, gathering their things.

Nat smirked. "Guess we got lucky."

We squeezed into the booth, slightly squished in the four seater, especially with Steve & James being as big as they are.

Steve slid in first, claiming the corner seat like he owned it. Nat plopped down next to him while Pietro practically launched himself across from them.

James hesitated for a second before squeezing into the booth beside you, his shoulder lightly brushing yours as everyone got comfortable. His legs felt warm through the jeans as he shifted slightly to sit in a way that subtly shielded your legs from the crowd.

The bartender arrived with their drinks then, carefully balancing all the glasses on a tray.

You glanced at him once before picking up your glass.

“We should do a drinking game!” Pietro suggested, making James groan and shoot Pietro a look.

"A drinking game? Really?" he asked, voice flat. "Last time we did one of those you ended up puking in Wanda's bushes."

Steve chuckled into his beer. "That was bad."

Nat leaned forward eagerly though, clearly already on board with the idea.

You smirked, now interested in what had been so intense. “I’m in.”

James sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples like he was already preparing for the incoming disaster.

"Alright," Nat said, clapping her hands together excitedly. "What're we playing?"

Pietro grinned wide before slamming both hands on the table and announcing: "TRUTH OR SHOT!"

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “That’s ridiculous but whatever.”

James groaned again, leaning back against the booth. "This is gonna be a long night."

Steve chuckled and grabbed his beer bottle. "Alright, I'll go first."

He looked around at everyone before pointing at Nat. "Okay… tell us the most daring or dangerous thing you've ever done." He declared, eyes gleaming.

Nat laughed and looked thoughtful for a moment, like she was really thinking through all the crazy things she'd done over the years.

Then she finally replied with a smirk on her lips.

"I used to climb the old water tower at night."

Your eyebrows raised, surprised. "For real?"

Nat nodded with a grin. "Yeah, when I wanted to clear my head. It was stupid, but it was fun. The view was totally worth it."

Nat’s smirk grew as she scanned the table, her eyes landing on Pietro with playful mischief.

Pietro immediately perked up like an overeager puppy.

Steve leaned forward eagerly while James just sighed and took a slow sip of his beer, already knowing this was going to be chaotic.

Pietro grinned confidently, clearly already prepared to face anything.

"Bring it," he declared with a cocky smile.

Nat raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Alright then."

There was a moment of silence as everyone leaned in, curious what Nat was going to ask.

And then suddenly she blurted out:

"What's your craziest kink?"

Steve and James let out simultaneous groans of frustration while you just stared at Nat with wide eyes.

"Holy shit-" you blurted out.

Pietro's confident grin didn't waver. He leaned forward, completely unfazed by the question.

"If I tell you," he started slowly with a playful smirk, "you'll have to promise not to judge me."

Steve groaned again and buried his face in his hands while James took another long sip of beer.

The entire table tensed as everyone waited for Pietro's answer.

James was just praying to any higher power that might be listening that his friend didn't say something completely embarrassing.

Pietro thought for a moment, seemingly enjoying the drama.

Finally, he leaned back in his seat with a smirk.

"Sensory deprivation."

You spat out the gulp of your drink, followed by the sound of James' head hitting the table with a thump while Steve groaned.

You coughed a few times, looking anywhere but right at him, but just as your luck would have it, Pietro turned to you next.

The table fell silent again, all eyes now on you - Steve looking mildly curious, Nat amused, James still recovering from Pietro's previous answer.

Pietro's grin somehow widened even more - like he'd prepared something absolutely evil.

"Alright," he said cheerfully. "This is a good question…"

James subtly kicked your foot under the table like an unspoken warning: "Don't pick truth."

Pietro looked you dead in the eye and asked, "If you could spend the night with one person in this room, who would it be?"

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. “S-spend the night as in?..”

Pietro tilted his head, grin never fading. "You know exactly what I mean," he said in a sing-song voice.

Steve was trying very hard not to laugh while Nat watched you like this was the most entertaining thing she'd seen all week.

James finally lifted his head from the table, suddenly looking… tense? Nervous? It was hard to tell with him. His jaw tightened slightly as he waited for your answer - but refused to make eye contact with anyone at the table.

You suddenly felt hot all over your skin, a forced chuckle escaping your lips. “That’s.. such a weird question.” you muttered, swallowing before deciding to shot instead of answering.

James watched you take the shot with mild relief - at least now he didn't have to hear whatever answer you might've given.

Pietro pouted playfully. "Aww, come on! No fun!"

Steve reached over and flicked Pietro's forehead lightly. "Dude, that was a messed up question."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s no big deal, that’s the game isn’t it?” you said, trying not to be a killjoy.

Nat just kept sipping her drink like this entire situation was prime entertainment for her.

“Alright, now it’s my turn to ask?” your gaze flicked around the group before inadvertently landing on James.

A slight look of panic flitted across James' face, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

He nodded slightly, trying to look casual. "Go ahead."

You hummed in slight thought, before amusement filled your eyes.

“Who’s your favourite pornstar?” you ask with a mischievous grin.

James choked on his beer, coughing violently as the question hit him like a freight train.

Steve's eyes went comically wide. "Oh my god."

Nat burst out laughing immediately - this was clearly not what she expected from you.

Pietro just stared at James with raised eyebrows, waiting for an answer while you still giggled slightly from your unexpected boldness.

“Well?” you pester him.

James stared at you like a deer in headlights, mouth slightly open.

"Uh." He cleared his throat. "I… don't really watch that stuff?"

Steve was now wheezing into his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Nat wiped tears from her eyes, she couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard.

Pietro just blinked slowly before deadpanning: "Really?"

“C’mon James, you don’t have to lie. It’s us.” you said.

James shot you a brief look that hovered somewhere between annoyance and pleading. "I'm not lying, I really don't—"

Pietro cut in, still not buying it. "Bullshit. Come on, give us a name. Just one."

James looked utterly cornered, mouth opening and closing helplessly as he searched in vain for an answer.

“Just a name.” you coaxed, rubbing his shoulder.

James looked completely flustered, cheeks slightly flushed and expression almost helplessly embarrassed.

Steve, Nat, and Pietro were all living for this. They were silently begging him to answer so they could hear his reply.

James took a moment to compose himself, still flustered and avoiding everyone's eyes as he finally muttered: "I don't know, like… Riley Reid? Something like that…"

Natalia burst into a fit of laughter. "Riley Reid?"

“She’s cute.” you piped up, clinking your glass with his.

James took the glass clink with you, still looking mildly embarrassed but now smiling slightly.

Steve wiped tears from his eyes after laughing so hard. "Man, I didn't know Riley Reid was your type," he teased.

Pietro leaned back confidently. "Alright, alright… if we're talking pornstars…"

The night had gotten wilder with each passing minute. Everyone had answered more and more daring questions, and at this point the group all had a good buzz going - even James.

Nat was currently slumped over in the booth, resting her head on Steve's shoulder and giggling at the conversation. James was sipping his beer silently by your side, looking significantly more relaxed than he had been earlier.

Pietro was the definition of chaotic energy, shouting and laughing with an arm slung around Steve's neck. He suddenly let out a loud gasp, eyes widening in excitement.

“What?” you blurted, already halfway tipsy.

“The karaoke’s finally open!” he exclaimed, immediately bolting for the small stage.

“This place has karaoke too?” you ask James. He gave half a shrug, looking at you. The blues of his eyes had thinned, you realized. He must be slightly tipsy too, though holding his liquor better than the rest of you.

Your eyes helplessly travelled down his face, his slightly round nose, the perfect bow lips which were unfairly pink. The sigh of them made you lick your own lipstick stained lips, which didn’t escape his gaze.

His lips moved, a low rumble of your name travelling through the warm air. You hummed without breaking your gaze, looking up.

He swallowed, his jaw tight. “You okay?” he asked. You nodded, just the slightest, eyes now held hostage by his. Your lips parted, throat dry as you tried to form coherent words. Your body felt unbearably warm, thighs rubbing slightly from the tension.

The moment broke when the loud voice of Pietro singing Sweater Weather way too loudly. James blinked, gaze flicking away from you.

“Shit, is he really crowdsurfing?” Nat muttered, way too drunk to muster up a reprimand.

Pietro ended his dramatic performance loudly in front of our booth, and as the crowd applauded him, he shoved the mic in your hands.

You covered it with your hand, eyes wide. “What the fuck.. I can’t sing.” you whisper-shouted.

He waved you off with a smirk. “Do a duet, it’s easier.” he said, pushing the mic closer to you. The song already started, and you could make out the tune to be familiar.

You shot him a murderous glance before lifting the mic hesitantly.

James’ voice sang softly from behind you, making you freeze and turn around. He put a reassuring hand on your thigh, giving you a small nod.

It's fine, it's cool You can say that we are nothin', but you know the truth

You continued slowly, looking at him.

And guess I'm the fool With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

He smiled faintly, turning completely towards you.

I don't wanna call it off, but you don't wanna call it love You only wanna be the one that I call "Baby"

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason

Your hand somehow found its way over his, squeezing slightly.

Good luck, babe Well, good luck, babe You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

I'm cliché, who cares? It's a sexually explicit kind of love affair

And I cry, it's not fair I just need a little lovin', I just need a little air

I think I'm gonna call it off even if you call it love I just wanna love someone who calls me "Baby"

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

You can say it's just the way you are Make a new excuse, another stupid reason

Good luck, babe Well, good luck, babe

As the duet came to an end, the bar cheered, but your eyes were only fixed on James’. The blue of it seemed much softer in the dim light, his expression hiding something achingly vulnerable.

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling..

Pietro clapped you both on the back, shouting something, but it felt muffled in your ears.

It felt like you couldn’t hear anybody else, which would’ve sounded cliche if somebody told you that. But right now, it didn’t matter. The crowd of people didn’t matter, the hooting and clapping of your friends didn’ t matter.

Because just for a moment, you saw him the way you did years ago, when he was unbearably cute and soft and always took your side. Maybe he still would, you thought to yourself. And that was it, wasn’t it?

In your mind, you couldn’t understand that they were the same, that this person in front of you who looked like he descended from heaven and made your skin hot was the same who you would put bandaids on. It baffled you how much everything changed, it felt like everybody left you standing while they ran.

And it was unfair, god you knew it was. You were the one who left, who chose better, and here you were, mourning the loss of a life that could’ve been. It hurt your heart to wish that you would’ve been there for your friends’ wedding, or for when James opened his own shop.

But instead you had chosen yourself, and even though that decision was right for you, your drunk brain couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t.

“Hey.. you okay?” James’ low murmur cut through your self-deprecating thoughts, one warm hand rubbing your shoulder.

“Yeah.. just..” you swallowed, averting your suddenly shiny eyes.

“Do you want to go back home?” he asked carefully, not breaking his gaze. Before you could reply, the crowd’s murmurs went up.

A half drunk Pietro sat up, pointing across the bar, “Holy shit.” His eyes were wide as he leaned forward.

The rest of the group turned to look at what he was pointing at, and Nat's eyes also widened slightly as she noticed who had just walked through the door.

Steve's reaction was similar, he suddenly sat up straighter, a small smile spreading across his face.

There was no doubt about it - the man currently making his way through the crowd toward the bar was none other than Brock Rumlow.

taglist: @sebastians-love; @bravelydauntlesssecret; @k1wwwol4; @bamitzzsam; @pattiemac1; @greatenthusiasttidalwave; @chaoticbisexual18; @swiggityswoody52; @bamitzzsam; @calwitch; @buckysteam; @buckyswan

A/N: I'm sorry if it was jarring to imagine them singing, but I just thought it would be fun to have drunk karaoke in the story. Any guesses abt Rumlow? 👀 As always, thanks for reading!

After rolling around in bed with no ideas & no sleep in sight, you decided to do what you always did to tire. Baking.

It wasn’t like you were Master Chef or anything, but you were decent enough with your mom’s recipes.

"Goddammit..." you muttered under your breath as you aggressively whisked the batter. Your hands were covered in flour, and a mess of ingredients littered the counter.

The oven light cast a warm glow across the kitchen, but it did little to ease the frown creasing between your brows. 

What had I even said that was so bad?

James had never walked away from an argument like that - not once in all our years knowing each other.

That was before, you were suddenly reminded, when you didn’t have arguments because he was so gullible. The more you thought about it, the worse it got. You kept replaying the whole scene in your mind over and over again. 

The things you said... they'd hurt him. That look in his icy blue eyes flashed again in your mind, and guilt clawed at your chest.

You slammed the dough on the counter with a deep sigh, flattening it tiredly.

"I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that."

"He was just trying to help me and I... snapped at him like a bitch."

You put the pie in the oven, staring at the timer while you sat down on the floor.

"James is probably pissed as hell right now," you said, while waiting for the pie to bake. 

"And he has every right to be." 

"God, I'm an idiot." 

"I didn't mean it like that. He knows that... right?"

You asked the invisible person in the kitchen. But you knew what the answer was.

No. James was stubborn as hell — if you'd hurt his feelings, he wasn't just gonna brush it off.

The pie timer beeped loudly in the quiet kitchen.

The sweet smell of baking pie filled the kitchen, but it did nothing to ease the anxiety in your chest. 

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed as you stared blankly at nothing.

What were you supposed to do now? Apologize? 

It did seem the only likely way, and you knew if Sam had wanted you to do it, you should.

“Okay. I’m a mature adult who can apologize when they're wrong.” you said, standing up.

Meanwhile, James was in his own personal hell. 

He hadn't gone home. 

Instead, he'd driven to the auto shop - his dad's old garage that was now his. The lights were on inside despite the late hour.

The wrench in his hand clanged loudly against a metal part as he tightened it aggressively. 

"Fucking piece of shit..." He grumbled under his breath, more frustrated with himself than anything else.

James couldn't stop thinking about you. 

He should have just ignored your damn comment and dropped you home like he planned. He should have kept his temper in check, should have walked away before things got heated.

But hearing you snap at him like that... it set him off. And then when you'd called him a lost puppy... 

His jaw clenched tightly, and the wrench in his hand twisted harder than necessary.

Frustrated, he dropped the tools and ran a hand roughly over his face, a heavy sigh falling from his lips.

His heart twisted painfully every time he tried to forget your face, your voice, the look in your eyes when you'd said those words. 

And he kept replaying the scene in his head, over and over again. The rain, the way you'd yelled at him, the things you said, the way you'd looked at him like he was nothing more than some lost dog trailing behind you...

His phone rang, the caller card flashing your mom's name. 

For a split second, panic flashed through his mind. His mind raced with unwelcome possibilities as to why the older woman was calling him this late at night. He picked it up immediately on instinct.

“Hello? Is everything alright, Miss?” his voice came in a hurry. 

You were dumbfounded for a few seconds, partially shocked at the worry in his voice. It was silent for a few moments, before you spoke, "James, it’s me.. Everything’s alright.” 

James exhaled sharply through his nose, the wrench still in his hand. You continued quietly,

“I just.. called from mom’s phone cause I thought you wouldn’t pick mine.” 

“Right about that.” he murmured, making you sigh softly.

“It’s not— never mind. Are you home?" you asked.

"Nah." His voice came out gruff, tired. 

He cleared his throat before speaking again, trying to sound normal despite everything that had happened between you two. 

"I'm at the shop."

"Oh. The shop in your garage?" you asked, slightly confused. The sound he made was somewhere between exhausted & annoyed.

“No, the shop I opened up last year. It's a few blocks away.” he murmured finally.

“You opened a shop?” you asked, sidetracked from your own thought process.

He just hummed in response.

“Oh. That’s..” you tried to process his words, or the lack thereof.

The silence was awkward — uncomfortable, even. 

James ran a hand over his face, feeling tired and irritated and hurt all rolled into one. He should hang up, he really should hang up. But he couldn't. 

"Did you call for a reason?" He asked gruffly, his thumb tapping incessantly on the wrench he held.

"Not really.. just.. nevermind, I'll drop it on your porch." you murmured.

James hesitated, the phone still pressed to his ear. He could hear you breathing on the other end — soft and unsure.

"Drop what?" 

He didn't mean for it to come out so sharp, but he couldn't help it. After everything that had happened between you two today, it still somehow nagged his mind.

You winced internally, but replied nonetheless.

"Mom made some pie.. told me to drop some for Rebecca and you." you said.

"Tell her thanks." James' voice was flat, indifferent. He didn't want to talk about pie or Rebecca right now — he just wanted the call to be over.

He wasn't angry at your mom. Or even really mad at you. But this conversation? Right after everything? It felt weird.

You swallowed at the tone, looking down at your hand. "Ok. Good night." you mumbled.

"Good night." James said quietly, his tone softer than before, but still distant. Still hurt.  

The line went dead as he hung up first this time, tossing the phone onto the workbench with a sigh. 

He rubbed his face again and stared blankly at nothing for a moment... then picked up another tool to keep working on whatever car part was in front of him, anything to distract himself right now.

Ok so he was mad mad.

You stared at the steaming apple pie in front of you. It was a tiny lie really, and you didn't think he would notice. So you wrapped it up, put on some warm clothes and set out on a mission to find him and his shop.

The night was cool and dark as you left your house, the rain from earlier having made way for a clear night sky. 

The walk to the auto shop was silent, the only sound coming from your own quick footsteps against the sidewalk, as you circled the 2 block radius of his house. You had an inkling of where it could be, since all the shops lined up on certain streets. Still you had to circle almost twice before you spotted the same worn sign that was once above their garage.

As you got closer, the bright lights from the auto shop came into view, casting a glow across the empty street and parking lot. 

The shop was closed, but all the lights inside were on — like someone was still working despite the late hour.

You approached the shop and peered through the garage window, trying to see inside. 

The first thing that stood out was the mess - tools and car parts were littered across the place, like a tornado had gone through. Then you noticed James.

He was standing near the back of the shop - his back to the entrance — and he was shirtless. His upper body and arms were covered in grease, his jeans were smeared with oil too, and he had a sweaty towel around his neck.

He was bent over the open hood of a car, fiddling with the engine. 

Even from the doorway, you could see the muscles of his broad shoulders and back shifting and flexing as he worked — the grease only accentuating the hard lines of his toned body.

Your eyes roamed over the expanse of smooth, tanned skin, tracing the way his muscles moved with every flex and shift. 

God, he was fit. 

His jeans were hanging low on his hips, and the low light cast shadows over the deep muscle lines on his back.

Your eyes traveled lower without your permission, taking in the V-line that disappeared underneath the waistband of his jeans.

Your gaze lingered there, drinking in the view way too long before you managed to pull yourself together and snap your head up.

You shook your head, and then hesitantly knocked on the side door.

His head snapped up, the faint crease of his brow deepening as he saw your face. You took a step back from the door, mentally preparing for the conversation ahead. He walked to the door and pulled it open with movements that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else.

The pie looked freshly baked - warm even - and that made something twist inside him.

"You came all the way here?" His voice was low, gruff from working all night. Not angry anymore... just tired.

He didn't reach for the pie yet.

"Um.. hello to you too." you said, trying for casualness.

"Don't get smart with me." He grumbled back, his eyes narrowing on you. 

"You shouldn't wander around at this time, 'snot safe." He murmured, glancing around.

"It was just a few blocks. I can handle myself." your response was met with a grunt.

Even like this — shirtless and covered in grime and sweat from working so late in the night — he somehow still  looked like a greek demigod, which was very unfair in your opinion. 

His eyes roamed over your face, searching for something. 

"You really just bringing pie this late at night, or is there another reason you're here?"

"Well, mom didn’t want it to go cold, and I wanted to see what you've been up to all this time." you deflected, glancing inside.

"See what I've been up to?" James scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. 

He crossed his muscular arms over his chest - grease and sweat glistening on his skin under the shop lights.

"Right now? Fixing this piece of shit car." He gestured vaguely behind him toward a rusted Honda Civic with its hood wide open. "And you know what else? Being pissed at you."

His voice was firm, unapologetic about admitting that much.

Your lips pulled down into a frown.

"Are you really that mad over name calling? Because I can remember times when you've called me worse." you said.

"Name-calling? Seriously?" James' voice rose slightly, his jaw tightening. 

"You don't get to say that shit and then act like it was nothing. Like I'm some dumb dog following you around." He uncrossed his arms, gesturing wildly with one grease-covered hand.

"Yeah, I've called you names before, but never like that. Never in a way that actually hurt."

His tone was sharp now — not yelling but close to it.

You looked down, the pie feeling like a weight in your hands now. 

"I didn't know you'd get so upset over it." you said.

"Of course I got upset over it."  James' voice cracked slightly, the anger mixing with something more vulnerable now. "You don't just... say shit like that to me."

He rubbed his face roughly, smearing grease across his cheekbone in frustration.

"And yeah — maybe I called you worse things before, but not ever with the same tone you used tonight."

"Fine, I admit that it was harsh and rude of me to say that. I shouldn’t have done that." you said.

James exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

"Good." 

He reached out and took the pie from your hands, careful not to get grease on it, then stepped aside.

"Come in."

Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the workbench where tools were scattered everywhere. The shop was messy but warm from all the lights being on.

You looked up, before following him in.

There was an old coffee pot on the counter in the corner that had probably been brewing all night, and stacks of car manuals were piled high everywhere.

He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands cleaner before turning back to you, still shirtless & sweaty.

The shop smelled like motor oil and burnt coffee.

Your eyes flicked over the interior of the shop, looking everywhere as he put down the pie on the counter.

James leaned against the other side of the workbench, arms crossed as he watched you look around. 

"You done staring around now?" He grumbled, one dark eyebrow raised. 

The light gleamed off the muscles in his upper body as he shifted his weight.

"Well, it still looks like your garage just.. you changed.. stuff." you said to validate your staring.

James snorted. "Yeah, well. Had to." 

He gestured vaguely at the shop - tools, parts everywhere.

"Barnes' Auto isn't gonna run itself."

A pause.

"You like it? The shop?"

You thought for a moment, then aimed for something neutral. "It's got.. character." you said.

"Character?" James repeated, his tone dry. 

He glanced around the messy shop - oil stains on the floor, tools scattered everywhere.

"Yeah. That's one way to put it."

A beat of silence passed between you two before he sighed and pushed off from the counter, shrugging on a henley.

"You want coffee? I got a pot brewing."

"No, I'm fine, thank you." you said, glancing at the ancient pot.

"Suit yourself." James grunted back, pouring himself some coffee in a mug that said 'number one mechanic' across the side. 

He leaned against the counter again, watching you glance around and avoid looking directly at him. 

His eyes roamed over your figure silently, studying you quietly. 

You looked smaller, somehow, in the woven cardigan, sleeves pulled to your knuckles. Delicate, his mind supplied the word unhelpfully.

"Do you keep a change of clothes here?" you asked dumbly, only now noticing that he was in different pants than before.

James took a slow sip of his coffee before answering. 

"Yeah. Got a locker in the back." 

He nodded toward a small storage room door covered in grease smudges.

"Sometimes I crash here if it's late and don't wanna go home."

Another pause as he studied you over the rim of his mug, steam curling up between you two.

You nodded once, eyeing the open car. "And food?"

"Yeah, got snacks and shit too. There's a mini-fridge back there."

James took another sip of his coffee, eyeing you over the mug.

"You hungry? I can make us something if you want." 

He didn't sound mad anymore — just tired and maybe slightly softer than before.

"No, I was just.. asking out of curiousity." you said, before unwrapping the pie to have something to do with your hands.

James was quiet for a moment, his eyes tracking your movements as you unwrapped the pie. 

He set his coffee mug down on the counter with a soft clink, before he said your name. 

The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine - he sounded a little tired. 

"Can you look at me?"

You stilled, before looking up.

James stared at you, his blue eyes intense and searching. 

"Look... I was pissed earlier," he started slowly, "and yeah, what you said hurt. But..." 

He exhaled through his nose before continuing.

"I shouldn't have walked away like that. That wasn't cool of me."

You swallowed quietly. "No, it’s.. I am sorry for saying that. I was totally out of line, and kinda still pissed and took it out on you." you said.

James' head cocked slightly as he listened to your apology - his expression unreadable. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles shifting underneath the smears of grease and sweat. 

"We both should be sorry," he grunted bluntly before continuing. 

"What you said to me... that bullshit about me being a lost puppy? I've known you almost all my goddamn life. You know how much that hurt?"

You huffed, trying not to deflect from the topic. "I am sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it like that. It just came out, and I knew it was rude but you agreed with my dad when he called me a naggy brat, so we should be even." you said.

James' jaw clenched at the incident you brought up. 

"That was not the same thing and you know it," he said, his voice slightly sharper now. 

The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and you could see a vein in his neck pulse slightly in frustration.

"You're right, it wasn't the same, because your mistake was worse." you murmured.

Your jaw worked and you looked away. You didn't like being talked to like that, especially when you were apologizing and he hadn't even bothered to do the same. 

"I should go, it's late already. Enjoy the pie." you said, your voice tight.

James' face fell the second you turned to leave. 

"Wait."

He stepped in front of the door, blocking your exit with his broad frame.

"You don't get to drop an apology and then bolt like that." 

His voice was firm - not angry anymore, but insistent. Like he wasn't about to let you walk out on him tonight.

"You don't want it, and you don't seem like you want to apologize for bitching about me either. So why should I stay?" you retorted.

"Because I am sorry, damn it." 

James bit the words out like they physically pained him to say. 

He ran a grease-streaked hand through his messy hair, exhaling sharply.

"I shouldn't have talked like that when I knew it would hurt you. I shouldn't have been an asshole about it either."

A pause, then he added quietly:

"And yeah... maybe agreeing with your dad that one time was messed up too."

His hands unclenched at his sides, his throat bobbing as he continued, his voice strained from emotion.

"But you walking away right now? That's a dick move. Especially after you came here to my place, my shop..."

He paused, his eyes burning into you as he struggled to find the right words. 

It was weird to see him like this - flustered, frustrated, clearly emotional. 

"I... I want you to stay."

You exhaled through your nose, looking away. The weight of his words felt like a relief, like you finally felt at ease after walking on eggshells for so long. 

"Okay." you said finally, walking over to a stool and sitting down.

James grabbed a chair and pulled it over, sitting across from you. 

The stool creaked under his weight as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter between you two.

"Look," he started, voice lower now. "I don't wanna fight with you."

He rubbed at the back of his neck - a nervous habit of his since high school.

"I was an idiot earlier." he sounded almost like the James you left behind.

"I don't wanna fight either." you mumbled, picking at your sleeves.

"Good." James exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. 

“Good.” you said, glancing at him before you both looked away.

The shop was quiet except for the hum of overhead lights and occasional drip from a leaking pipe somewhere.

He reached over to pick up a fork that was lying on the counter - probably used earlier for eating something - and handed it to you.

"You wanna eat some pie? Your mom's cooking is always good."

You nodded quietly, not correcting him. The apple pie was, miraculously, still warm as he took a bite.

James chewed slowly, savoring the warmth. 

"Damn... this is good." 

He swallowed before taking another bite, his earlier anger completely gone now - replaced by something softer.

Your mom always made the best pies, and he hadn't had one in a while.

"You should take some home too," he said between bites, pushing the plate slightly toward you with greasy fingers.

"That's fine, she can just make another for us." you said, wiping the fork with a napkin before taking a small bite.

James stopped midway through his bite when you said that, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Since when are you that polite?" 

He teased - just a hint of that old familiarity that you knew so well.

You frowned. "I am always polite. To the right people." you said.

James smirked, the first real one since this whole argument started. 

"Right people, huh?" He took another bite of pie before continuing. "So I'm a right person now? After you called me names and almost walked out on me?"

There was humor in his tone - not mocking you, just teasing like he used to when things were good between you two.

"You walked out on me first, mister." you pointed your fork at him.

James held up his hands in mock surrender, the pie fork still dangling from his fingers. 

"Okay okay! You're right - I walked out first." 

He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before continuing.

"But you did say some shit that pissed me off."

His tone wasn't angry anymore - just matter-of-fact. Like he was stating a simple truth rather than blaming you again.

"Grow a pair." you huffed jokingly.

"Grow a pair?" James repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

He leaned back in his chair, mouth falling open with amused disbelief.

"You’ve really upgraded your vocabulary."

Another bite of pie - he was demolishing it at this point.

"You're lucky your mom makes good pie or we'd still be fighting."

You rolled your eyes. "Full mouth makes you shut up, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe." James smirked around the forkful of pie still in his mouth. 

He chewed slowly, enjoying the food and this weirdly normal moment between you two despite everything that had happened earlier.

Swallowing, he pointed at you with his fork.

"You're lucky I like apple pies or I wouldn't be talking to you right now."

"It isn't luck, it's skill." you said.

James took another big bite of pie, chewing thoughtfully as he watched you. 

"Your mom's skill is the only reason we're not still yelling at each other in a parking lot right now." 

He swallowed and pointed his fork at you again.

"You really think I'd be sitting here with you if it wasn't for her cooking? Be real."

A pause - then he added with a half-smirk, "I mean... maybe. But mostly because of the pie."

You looked at the demolished dessert, before saying uncharacteristically quiet. 

"I made it actually, mom's asleep right now."

James froze. 

The fork in his hand hovered halfway to his mouth, pie crumbs on the tines.

"You... made this?" 

His voice came out quieter than he intended. The thought of you baking - something you never used to do when you were younger - surprised him.

He hadn't known that skill was even in your wheelhouse.

"Yeah.. I.. made it out of guilt. And apples." you said with a light laugh.

James stared at the half-eaten pie, then back up at you. 

"You made this... because you felt guilty?"

He sounded genuinely shocked. Not in a bad way - just surprised.

All this time, he'd assumed your mom had baked it like she always did when someone was visiting.

"Of course I did.. the look on your face could've made anyone feel guilty." you murmured.

James set the fork down carefully, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. 

"You didn't have to do that," he said softly. "Bake for me."

He looked at you differently now - like seeing you in a new light.

"It's... really good though." 

A compliment. Simple but sincere.

You nodded, looking everywhere but his steel blue eyes as you accepted his compliment.

James leaned back in his chair, studying you. 

You looked different this way - still the same tough girl he knew all those years ago, but different at the same time. Like there was more depth to you now.

He thought of you, baking pie from scratch in your parents' kitchen... just to make him feel better. 

The thought of it stirred something in his chest. Something old and familiar that he hadn't felt in years.

James exhaled slowly, the weight of everything settling over him.

He said your name softly, then stopped. How do you even begin to thank someone for something like this? 

"It's been a long time since anyone did something that nice for me."

Not just the pie - but apologizing. Coming all the way here. Trying to make things right between you two after everything that happened earlier tonight.

Your gaze flickered up involuntarily, eyes holding his. It was silent for a few minutes as your gaze flickered over his face. His words were tugging at your heart strings without permission.

You didn’t know what to say to that.

"Yeah.. well, you aren’t all that bad, and neither am I." you said with a small smile.

James huffed out a small breath at the response, almost a laugh.

"Was that a compliment? I'd better savor it before you start being mean to me again."

There was no malice in his words - just humor and that familiar edge that made you roll your eyes affectionately.

"Not everyday am I willing to bake a pie, okay?" you huffed, but the smile widened on your lips.

James chuckled, a real laugh this time, warm and rich. 

"Okay okay, I get it. You're not usually the pie-baking type."

He took another bite, savoring the taste.

"But damn... you should do it more often." 

The compliment slipped out easily - he meant every word of it.

"You'd probably have a lot of guys lining up to get some of this pie if you made it more often."

You snorted at that. "Yeah right. The day you see me baking pies for men will be the day I got replaced by a clone." you said.

"Good. 'Cause I don't wanna see you baking pies for any other guys." 

James said it so casually, like stating a fact rather than admitting something.

He took the last bite of pie, chewing slowly as he stared at you across the counter.

"I mean... unless they're family or whatever. But not random dudes."

You chuckled at that, thinking he was joking. 

 "In that case, you need to quit picking up women in that truck of yours—playing the helpful, sexy mechanic every time they have car trouble." you replied jokingly.

"Who says I'm picking up women?" James shot back, raising an eyebrow. 

He crossed his arms - a defensive gesture. You tilted your head in confusion.

"I've been single since high school, you know that."

A fact he didn't bring up often. Not that it mattered to him - or so he told himself.

You blinked at that. "What?"

James glanced at you, his expression unreadable. 

"You didn't know that?"

He shrugged slightly, as if it wasn't a big deal... even though it kinda was.

"Yeah, you're looking at a lonely bachelor." 

His tone was dry and casual, but there was a hint of something else behind his eyes - something he was carefully pushing down.

"You're kidding right? Trying to make a fool of me?" you said with a small laugh.

"What do you think, smart ass?"

James' tone was still light and playful - but there was a hint of irritation too.

He wasn't kidding, and he didn't like you laughing at the idea of him being single.

"Why's that so damn hard for you to believe?"

"Because we're in our 20s, probably our peak, and you're telling me you haven't dated in 5 years?" you said, shock seeping into your tone as your voice rose slightly in pitch.

James exhaled sharply through his nose, arms still crossed. 

"Yeah, I haven't dated. So what?"

He didn't understand why you were so surprised.

"Been busy with the shop. Helping my mom out with Rebecca and shit." 

A pause as he studied your face.

"It's not like you have to adopt your girlfriend or something." you said, even more confused now.

James ran a hand through his greasy hair, exhaling sharply. 

"Look, I never really cared about dating anyway." he said bluntly. 

It wasn't that he hadn't had opportunities - there were plenty of girls in town who'd flirted with him over the years. But none of them stuck around for long, and frankly? he was fine with that.

You absorbed his words, blinking and nodding. "Wow, okay, so you wanna end up a spinster.. that's cool." you said.

James snorted, rolling his eyes at the comment. 

"First of all, I'm not a spinster, dumbass. Second - yeah? Maybe I do."

He shrugged like it was no big deal.

"Not like anyone's been worth my time anyway." 

A simple truth that he didn't feel ashamed of saying out loud.

“Really? Cause I remember you swearing up & down that you & Nat could be such a great couple if she gave you the chance.” you said amusedly.

James’ face immediately twisted into a grimace.  

"Nat? Jesus, don't remind me of that."  

He groaned, dragging both hands down his face like the mere memory physically pained him.   

"That was high school stupidity! We were kids with crushes on literally everyone in our grade!" he said indignantly.

“Exactly! And now you’re telling me you’re living some kind of hermit life. I don’t believe it.” you replied.

James leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter.  

"Okay, listen - high school me had a type. Brunette girls who could bench press me. That’s not exactly a personality trait."  

He waved his hands dismissively before continuing, "And no, I'm not living like some hermit! I go out! To Wanda's diner all the time!"

“A diner is not going out.” you pointed out. 

"Okay, fine! Maybe I don't go out go out," James admitted with a huff.  

"But it's not like there are other places to go out here anyway! Unless you wanna hang at some dive bar where half the guys are married and drunk off their asses."  

“A dive bar is still a better place to find girls your age.” you quipped.

James rolled his eyes again, running his fingers through his messy hair.  

"I can't believe I'm arguing with you over my dating life."  

Then he leaned forward, fixing you with a steely gaze as you chuckled.  

"Oh, you think this is funny? Me being single?"  

His tone was dry but not actually upset - more amused than anything.  

"I mean... yeah, whatever. Laugh it up."   

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a good one for you.” you snorted.

James huffed. "So what about you, huh? You got some boyfriend stashed somewhere I should know about?" he asked, partially because he wanted to change the topic.

"Nope. I dumped one last christmas and that was that." you shrugged.

"You dumped someone?"

James sounded skeptical bordering on doubtful. He raised an eyebrow, watching you closely.

"Let me guess, he was some stuck up college boy?"

“No, actually, he worked at a Law firm.” you said, frowning.

James scoffed.

"A lawyer, huh? Should've known."

He crossed his arms, looking at you over his greasy biceps.

"Let me guess - he was some tall pretty boy in a fancy suit who talked like a rich snob."

“That’s.. Inaccurate and very judgemental. He was nice.” you replied.

James rolled his eyes.  

"Yeah, I'm sure he was real nice. Polite and proper and clean-cut, right? Wore fancy shoes and probably some dumbass fedora on his days off?"  

He didn't like it. The idea of you with some polished city boy made his fingers clench involuntarily around the arms of his chair. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, but it did.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words. “Nobody wears a fedora in the city. They’re not.. fashion criminals.”

James scoffed.  

"Okay, well whatever he wore - point is, you dumped him." He said it like it was a victory.  

"So what happened? Did he bore you to death with all his law firm talk?"

“Not really, he was just too serious for me. We weren’t compatible.” you said lightly.

James nodded slowly, absorbing your words.  

"Yeah... that makes sense." He said it like he understood exactly what you meant - the incompatibility thing. Then a thought struck him. 

"So if he was too serious for you..." James hesitated before continuing carefully, "...what do you like in guys?"

Your lips quirked a little. “Oh I’ve got a list, but I guess what really matters is that they’re not intense. Cause I’m plenty intense for the both of us.”

James gave a snort at that, the corner of his mouth tugging into a slight smile. 

"Intense, huh?" He repeated dryly.  

That was definitely one way to describe you. Intense, stubborn... a royal pain in his ass. But he wouldn't have you any other way. 

"So you don't like intense guys. Noted." 

He tried to sound casual, like the conversation wasn't slowly veering into dangerous territory. That he wasn't actually taking mental notes.

"Okay, what about... looks?" 

He was pushing it and he knew it, but James couldn't stop himself from asking. 

He told himself it was only curiosity - after all, you were a grown woman now, a lot could have changed since the last time you talked like this. 

But another part of him just wanted to know. 

“Since when are you so interested in my likes?” you tilted your head with an amused expression.

James coughed, shifting in his seat like he was suddenly uncomfortable.

"I'm just..." he started, but the excuse died in his throat. 

Just what?  

He sounded ridiculous, asking questions about your type of guys like he had any sort of right to know.

"Just curious, alright?" his tone was defensive. Trying too hard not to care.

He rubbed his thumb against the edge of his coffee mug nervously without realizing it.

You hummed in response, lips still quirked in an amused way at his nervousness.

“Tell you what, you ditch the hermit life and go out for a night, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

James stiffened at the suggestion. 

His first instinct was to shoot it down. Tell you to forget it, he had work and stuff to do, no time for going out.  

But then he glanced at you.  

You looked relaxed and unguarded for once, sitting on that stool with the shop lights behind you, amusement dancing in your eyes. 

You looked.. so different yet the exact same. And... maybe he didn't want to refuse your offer after all.  

With a sigh, he gave a small nod.  

"Fine. I'll do it."

Next Part >

The bastard was smiling too.

His face screamed ‘Told you so’.

You glowered at him for a second before muttering out, "Yeah, yeah".

The rain was starting to fall quicker now, and it seemed like it was going to get heavier. Water droplets were matting your hair and sticking your clothes to your body, and you started shivering.

"Fuck." you mumbled to yourself, looking down at your shirt that was now sticking to you for a completely different reason. Still, you were thankful it wasn't poor quality and was not exposing your assets.

You felt eyes on you, and you looked up to see James staring at you with a blank expression.

His gaze darted down, where he could see the fabric of your shirt clinging tight, outlining your figure and emphasizing the curve of your breasts.

He abruptly snapped his eyes back up to your face, and you saw his neck and cheeks tinging red.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very aware of everything; your waterlogged clothes, your cold fingers, his gaze on you. The pounding of your heart…

You didn't comment on his gaze, folding your arms across your chest as you started trudging towards the park gate.

“You sure you wanna go by yourself?” He asked amidst the drizzle.

“I’ll be fine.” you said without turning.

“You’re already wet.” he commented, light footsteps staring behind you. You didn’t reply, too focused on avoiding puddles and saving your converse.

"Jesus, could you be any more stubborn?" James' voice came from behind you.

A hand suddenly touched your shoulder, and you jumped, turning around with wide eyes.

"Wha—"

But you hadn't even got the words out fully when he had scooped you up into his arms. You were pressed flush against his chest, his arms under your thighs, hands under your ass, holding you up.

Your hands automatically went up to grip onto his shoulders, fingers clutching onto his wet shirt.

Your cheeks burned as you stared at him, half flushed from annoyance, and half from something else.

"What the hell are you—" You started but he cut you off.

"Shut up for once." he grumbled, covering both your heads with his jacket.

You gaped at him, completely dumbstruck and lost for words.

Every part of your body was burning; from humiliation, from the rain, from him. His arms were strong, and you could feel the way his muscles flexed under his wet shirt. The stubble on his chin and jaw was rubbing against your cold cheek, and the only thing that managed to squeeze out of your throat was, “What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving your goddamn ass from falling sick." He murmured, and before you could retort, he started walking, carrying you along with him.

Being this close to him was a sensory overload. Every part of your body was hyperaware of him, it felt like he was everywhere.

His feet were clunking on the cement with every step, and there was so much heat rising up from his body.

"This.. I'm sure there is a better way of doing.. this." you murmured, focusing intently on his shoulder.

His arms flexed as he walked, the muscles in his back flexing and tensing next to your face.

You could feel his breath on your neck, his chest pressed against yours, his heartbeat thumping against your sternum.

"This is the fastest way." he grunted.

You swallowed painfully.

"I can't believe you're actually carrying me." you mumbled, finally settling to rest your forehead against his neck.

His hands were strong, clenching your thighs. You could feel the roughness of the pads of his fingers in your flesh, probably from being working on cars all day, you thought.

Your mind suddenly wondered what else those thick fingers would be good at.

You shook that thought out of your head.

Absolutely not… this was a one off.

He grunted, and you inhaled.

He smelled musky and masculine, somewhere between grease and fruity. This close to him, you could even smell the soap he used. It suited him.

"You're so heavy." he murmured, his words vibrating through his chest.

You scoffed, lifting your head up.

"I'm not— I’m a healthy weight." you protested indignantly.

He scoffed in reply.

"You sure are heavy as hell." he grumbled, tightening his grip on your thighs.

You swallowed at the action, your body thrumming. He was acting gruff and annoyed, but his touch was gentle, as if he was terrified of hurting you.

"You still don't know how to talk to girls." you grumbled, faintly annoyed and a lot of offended

"That's ‘cause you're no girly girl." he retorted, his hands clenching your legs again unconsciously.

"So you can call me fat?" you retorted, ignoring the way his light stubble was brushing against your cheek

"I didn't say you were fat, I said you're heavy." he grunted again, his breath fanning over the side of your neck.

Your body felt like it was on fire. You were sure he could feel the rise and fall of your chest, and the rapid pounding of your heartbeat.

His arms and fingers were still holding you up, not even a little tired yet, if he was annoyed at carrying you, his hands showed no signs of it.

"It’s the same thing." you replied dryly.

"It's not." he protested stubbornly, the vibration of his words shooting goosebumps down your spine.

His fingers flexed against your legs again, and you clenched your thighs to avoid shivering.

Goddammit, you could feel every muscle in his chest pressing up against you. It was excruciating.

"Whatever, I don't care what you think about me." you muttered, half a lie.

"How far are we?" you said instead.

"Not far." he grunted.

He seemed to step faster now, practically striding with you in his arms.

He suddenly halted, his body going stiff, and you looked up at him, bewildered.

"What—" you started.

"Sh."

Before you could protest again, his hand rose up to cover your mouth, cutting off the rest of your words. Your eyes widened, and your hands automatically reached up to grip his wet shirt.

You tried saying something indignantly, but all that came out was a muffled mess of sounds.

His hand over your mouth felt deliciously calloused, rough against your lips and cheeks. You couldn’t help but notice how close your faces were to each other now, noses almost touching, if it weren't for his hand, that is.

You could see the different flecks of color in his eyes this close, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. He was staring down at you, his brows slightly pinched.

Then, from somewhere a faint sound of children laughing caught you by surprise. You turned your head under the jacket towards the sound, then back at him.

He sighed deeply, before lowering his hand (much to your displeasure).

“Where are we? Why are there kids here?” you whispered, brows furrowed as you tried to remember who had kids this young near your neighbourhood.

He slowly shifted to the side on the sidewalk, before replying.

“That’s Steve’s kids.”

You blinked.

“Steve as in Steve Rogers? The scrawny kid?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.” he muttered.

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. He just kept staring at you, a storm of unreadable emotions in his eyes. His hands flexed again, before he slowly lowered you. Your brain was still catching up with the knowledge revealed as you stood shakily.

You turned slightly, lifting the edge of the jacket as if seeing it for yourself would make you believe it. The rain was a little more than a drizzle now.

From afar, you could make out two kids in bright rain coats, one jumping in puddles while the other was trying to sail a paper boat which was far too wet. You glanced at James and back, your mouth opening and closing around words you couldn’t think of.

“Isn’t he.. wasn’t he the same age as us?” you finally managed to say.

James shrugged lightly. “Yeah. He had them with his high school sweetheart.” he replied.

You nodded dumbly, still looking at them as if staring would make it make sense.

The sight felt so familiar you felt a tug in your gut, the same plastic-y coats which would do little to keep out the rain, the same puddle splashing, except you used to do it on each other, not caring about your shoes. The same toothy grin that never seemed to leave your faces as you enjoyed the rain.

It felt so far away, but you still remembered some details, almost without meaning to. You remembered when your oddly shaped boat swam limply across the streams, when you almost slipped into a grate trying to save it. You remembered your muddy hands, Bucky's green rain coat which was way too big on him, even the tooth he broke when he fell after you.

As if they sensed your forlorn staring, the one jumping in puddles caught your gaze, her head tilting at what you imagined would be an obscure sight. You shifted away from him immediately, his jacket slipping off your head.

You heard a sigh behind you and a rustle of fabric as he took it off his head as well. It was then you noticed that he had stopped under a tree, which blocked out most of the rain. Before you could comment on it, a high pitched “Uncle Bucky!” cut through the air, followed by loud splashy footsteps.

Without much ceremony, they jumped him so hard you thought they would knock him down, but he caught them with practiced ease, a tired smile on his lips.

“Hey kiddo.” he said, hugging them back before tickling them. The two of them immediately burst into laughter, wiggling away from his grasp as their half toothy smile grew.

You felt strangely mesmerized by the sight. He talked to them so freely, so normally, that it made you feel out of place. That this version of him wasn’t meant for you to see. Your feet shifted slowly away from them, trying to camouflage into the tree.

Before you could think of an escape plan, a warm voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Holy, is it really you?” Steve said with mild surprise. You turned swiftly, trying to school your expression.

“Oh, hey Steve.” you said, slightly awkward. You weren’t really friends with him, but you knew him like everybody in this town knew everybody.

“Hey, it’s good to see you back.” he said, warm eyes like always. “It’s good to see you too.” you replied with a small smile. He had.. filled out in the best way possible, almost in the same way as James, his short golden hair adding to the charisma. For a moment you thought if your entire town had been blessed with good looks while you were gone.

“I see you’ve met the little munchkins already.” he chuckled, making you snap out of the slight daze.

You gave him a polite smile. “They’re adorable.” came automatically. Steve just smiled proudly, but you could feel Bucky’s gaze at the back of your neck.

The kids were now staring at you, making you feel weirdly self conscious, standing in damp clothes.

Steve introduced them to you with a wide smile, and you waved awkwardly at them, trying not to cringe slightly when he added Aunt to your name.

The shorter one’s head tilted. “How come she’s an aunt? We’ve never seen her.”

Your smile tightened a little. “It’s fine.. You don’t have to call me that.. Just my name is fine.” you said.

James snorted at that. “You’ve never seen her because she doesn’t live here.” he said to the child.

“You’re from somewhere else?” the other one quipped with wide eyes.

“I’m not..” it came a little sharply, directed at James, but you softened it. “I’m from here, but I work in the city.” you explained to her.

“Woah.. that’s so cool. Dad told me the city has the biggest slides!” she said, much to James’ dislike.

“Do you mean the amusement parks? Yeah, they’re very big.” I replied.

Their eyes sparkled with excitement and you felt like you had to go on. “There’s uh.. this ride that you sit on and it flips you upside down, and one where you do loop de loop in the air.” you said. They clapped their hands in excitement.

“Will you take us there! I wanna do a loop de loop.” the taller one said, making your eyes widen. You glanced at a smiling Steve and a slightly grumpy James.

“Uh.. I don’t know.” you murmured with an awkward laugh. They immediately pouted, turning to their dad. “Can we go, dad, please please please?”

He huffed out a small laugh, and before you could point out that you hadn’t agreed, Steve saved you the trouble. “We’ll go when the weather’s clear, okay?”

They immediately brightened up and nodded eagerly. And like the usual attention span of kids, moved on to jumping into puddles.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you take them.” you murmured to Steve. He waved it off with his hand.

“It’s alright, they’ll forget about it in a few days. Bucky always leads them on about ice cream trucks and they get excited without ever seeing them.” he says amusedly.

James chuckled. “I just like making life tough for you.” he said, clapping Steve’s back. Steve rolled his eyes, nudging him in the ribs.

“So, have you come to stay this time around?” Steve asked.

“Not really, I just came to visit.” you replied politely.

“Oh, that’s still good. I’m glad you got to meet my kids atleast.” he said.

“How old are they, by the way?” you asked.

“Four. They’re twins.” Steve replied, beaming. You smiled and nodded, doing the math in your head.

“Wow, that’s.. congratulations.”

“I’m glad I ran into you, but I should probably head home. Good night.” you greeted him with a smile, before turning and leaving.

Behind you, James stood beside Steve, eyeing you for a moment before turning to his friend.

“I can’t believe she’s back.” Steve said with a small smile, making him roll his eyes.

“Of course she was gonna come back at some point.” he muttered.

“You convinced me that she wasn’t, that her life was perfect there.” Steve replied, almost amusedly.

“Whatever, she still pisses me off.” he grunted, and Steve laughed.

“You two still bicker like kids.” Steve poked his ribs.

James shoved him off playfully before starting towards his house. “See you at the fest, Stevie.” he gave a short wave before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The rain had almost completely stopped as you turned the corner on your street. A loud thunder suddenly cracked overhead, making you flinch and grip yourself tighter instinctively.

You didn’t even register the sound of muffled steps until the familiar mocking tone of James came from behind you.

"It's just some thunder, don’t tell me you still scare like a kid." he huffed amusedly.

You turned just slightly, shooting him a look. “It took me by surprise.” you replied, trying to ignore how his slightly damp shirt looked far too good. He chuckled, jacket slung on his shoulder as he walked behind you, off by a few steps.

You continued walking. “Following me now, are you?” you muttered.

“I live on this street, longer than you have actually.” he pointed out, making you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you have to walk behind me like some creep.” you replied.

“So you want me to walk with you? Like we’re friends or something? Oh wait, you said we aren’t.” he said, knowing it would push your buttons.

When you didn’t reply, he rolled his eyes. His steps faltered for a second when he carefully looked over you.

"You're shivering." he said, like he hadn’t thought about that.

"It's kinda hard not to when you're soaking." you grumbled, hands still around yourself.

He sighed, before muttering something that sounded like ‘why lord’, before catching up to you in a few strides. He didn’t stop you, just wrung out his leather jacket once and draped it over you.

You wanted to argue, but the warmth of it made you sigh softly. The fabric smelled faintly like motor oil and grease.

The streetlights flickered over the two of you as you walked.

“Thanks.” you muttered. “I didn’t know you did chivalry.”

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I do. Got a problem with that?"

His voice was laced with slight annoyance, but there was something else underneath it too - a hint of defensiveness.

“I guess I don’t. You’re still very facetious though.” you said, glancing at him.

He stopped walking abruptly, his boots squelching in a puddle.

“Facetious?” his brows pinched, almost adorably, you thought. “You callin’ me names, after I carried your stubborn ass through the rain?” he huffed.

"I didn't ask to be carried, you did that." you pointed out.

James' face twisted a little, but his tone was still even.

"You were too slow. Staying in that goddamn rain for so long would get you sick, of course I was gonna carry you." he said like it made perfect sense, his gaze boring into you.

"But no, you have to argue with me, don't you? Even when I'm just trying to keep your ass safe."

"I don't need to be kept safe, I'm not a child." you said, stopping in front of your gate.

“You sure do act like one.” he muttered under his breath, continuing on his way to his house next door.

“I heard that.” you said, eyeing his back. He half turned, then rolled his eyes and continued walking.

“Acting like a child is still better than acting like a lost puppy who has no one else to follow.” you reported, crossing your arms.

James stopped dead in his tracks.

His face went completely blank as he turned.

For a second, he just stared at you — really stared — like he was seeing you for the first time. Like your words had physically punched him.

Then something flickered behind his eyes. Hurt? Betrayal? Disbelief?

He didn't say anything yet.

Your brain screamed at you for a moment, alarms blaring.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet. Not angry anymore — just… tired.

"Okay."

One word. Flat and empty.

Then he turned on his heel to walk away without another glance at you.

You blinked, staring at his retreating back.

His shoulders were tense, posture stiff as he pushed open his gate.

Your brain scrambled for words, something, anything to say.

“Wait, your.. your jacket.” you called out.

“Don’t need it.” James said without looking your way, not slowing down.

His voice was cold now - detached. Like he'd flipped a switch and shut everything off.

You watched him disappear into the house, too stunned to move, your heart twisting violently in your chest.

You should run after him. Call out to him, get him to stop, maybe even apologize—

But you couldn't. The words got stuck in your throat, and your legs felt like lead weights.

The look on his face when you'd called him a lost puppy, like you'd… hurt him, finally crossed the line. It was stuck in your mind, replaying over and over again.

Eventually you went inside and dried off. But you couldn't stop thinking about him.

Outside, the skies had cleared again, leaving the air cool. You paced in your room, feeling a mix of guilt and sorrow.

You flopped on your bed, looking at the ceiling.

He was right, he had helped you even though you were awful to him.

You closed your eyes, trying to shut off your brain. But all that did was bring up every time you had been rude to him.

“He started it,” you said out loud. “He was rude to me first.” you tried to reason with yourself, turning on your side.

But for what? He was just upset that you left.

The hours ticked by and sleep refused to come as you argued with your brain.

Whenever you closed your eyes, images of James' face kept flashing in your mind — angry, hurt, cold, annoyed. The memory of his expression when you'd called him a lost puppy was seared into your brain.

Your stomach twisted every time you recalled all that you'd said. You hadn't even tried to stop him when he walked away…

You sat up on your bed with an annoyed huff, cursing at your mind. You knew it wouldn’t calm down until you talked it out. So you picked up your phone and dialled your therapist/friend.

“Hey Sam.. I’m sorry for bothering you this late. Do you have a minute?” you said quietly.

On the other end, you heard rustling of sheets and a small grunt. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“No.. not exactly just..” you sighed, closing your eyes. “Coming here was more taxing than I thought.”

“Is it.. because of your parents?” he asked gently, knowing it wasn’t really an open topic for you.

“Partially.. yeah. But it’s not just him, I.. ran into my childhood friend here, and things aren’t going great with him. I don’t really feel like myself, I’m just angry all the time.. and he hasn’t even done that many things wrong, he was just upset that I left.” you said, voice growing smaller with each sentence.

Sam listened patiently before asking, “You think you’ve wronged him by leaving?”

“A little, I guess. I know I left for myself, but I didn’t mean to hurt him.” As you said that, you realized how hypocritical it sounded. You ended up retelling Sam everything that went down, up until him leaving.

Sam sighed softly. “Your friendship sounds complicated.” he said, his tone light enough to make you feel better.

“I don’t even know if it’s that anymore..” you huffed an almost laugh.

“Whatever it is, it’s hurting you both from what it seems. Now you have a choice, you either pull back completely, act like you dont want to see him ever again.” he said carefully.

“Or, you swallow your pride, just for some time, and try to apologize. And I guess you can tell which one I’d suggest you to do.” he said. You knew he would never force you to make a decision.

“Shouldn’t he apologize too? Who knows what else he’s been talking about me with my dad.” you said.

Sam called your name carefully. “I agree that was a shitty thing to do, but I can only make you understand your actions, not him. Maybe if you ask him politely he’ll understand it was shitty.”

You sighed, rolling on your side. “You don’t know him, he won’t do that.”

“Exactly, I don’t, but you do. And I know you can be the bigger person here, yeah?” he said.

“Yeah.” you murmured quietly.

“Good. Now I’m charging double for this session because you interrupted my REM sleep.” he said jokingly, making your lips quirk.

“Like your greedy ass needs more money.” you said affectionately.

He made an indignant sound .“I, at the very least, deserve a drink for sorting out your boy problems.” he said, and you could hear him smirking.

“Fine, I’ll treat you when I get back, happy Mr. Greedy?” you teased. “Very.” he replied with a laugh.

“Alright, well get your “REM sleep” then.” you said.

“Good night, grumpy.” he said, yawning. “Send me a pic of your good deeds.”

"You been cryin'."

His words were deep, but there was no edge to them. He was just... observing.

"No." You denied. "I got sprayed by a.. sprinkler." you murmured.

James scoffed, and the rush of air across your legs made your breath hitch.

"You've still got tears on your cheeks." he pointed out gruffly. "Don't lie..." 

There it was, the damned nickname again. 

Your eyes were still shut, but you could sense his gaze on you. You could feel his breath on your legs, the heat of his body right in front of you, the weight of his hands on your knees. 

Your face scrunched. "Stop.. calling me that. We're not kids anymore.. I don't go around calling you Bucky." You said. 

He scoffed again, and you could clearly picture the way his jaw would clench at your words.

"You ain't the boss a' me." he said, and your mouth dropped at his response.

You finally opened your eyes slightly, peering at him through your lashes. He was right in front of you, his hands still gripping your knees. He was staring up at you with narrowed eyes, and your breath caught when you saw- were those .. frown lines between his brows?

"You don't get to decide what I call you." he continued, his mouth twisted.

He shifted on his knees, his hands still holding yours. He was so close you could almost count the individual dark lashes framing his eyes.

He called your nickname again, and your attention was snapped back to present, to the hurt still coiling in your chest.

His mouth was set in a frown, jaw clenched and eyes were trained right on you. The blues in them were... intense to say the least.

"What?" you managed hoarsely. God, you barely recognized your own voice.

There was a long stretch of silence as he worked his jaw, his hands squeezing your knees again involuntarily, and you almost hissed at the sensation. 

"Why are you crying?" He asked, voice low and calm like his hands were working of their own accord.

"I'm not crying now. And even if I was, it’s none of your business." yYou shot back half heartedly.

His eyes narrowed, and one hand left your legs.

Before you could react, the same thick finger swiping across your damp cheeks. You gasped at the sudden contact, resisting the urge to jerk away.

His hand paused, and you could suddenly feel the roughness of his fingertips against your skin. He pulled it back, then gave you a look that said “Really?”

Your heart was in your throat now, and you couldn't seem to find words. It felt like the moment was stretching out unnecessarily.

"I.. heard you two. Talking about me." You answered his question.

There was a flash of guilt that suddenly overtook his face, and it was so brief you almost didn't catch it.

His mouth twisted into a harsh frown, but he didn't move back. He stayed right in front of you, still crouched on the ground.

"You were eavesdropping?" he demanded gruffly.

A muscle jumped in his jaw again, and his eyes darkened. His hands moved down to your knees again, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the contact.

"You had no right." he growled suddenly, and for some reason the irritation in his voice made heat rise to your cheeks again.

"I had every right, you were talking about me." you shot back hotly, your irritation increasing at his words. "I can't help it, you guys were loud."

His fingers tightened around your knees, his hands almost holding your legs hostage now. You swallowed again, trying to ignore the way your brain was suddenly feeling... fuzzy.

"You didn't have to listen." he shot back, and your eyes narrowed again.

This had to be the most uncomfortable position ever. You hated to imagine what he would look like kneeling for different reasons. Still, you managed to keep a semblance of control.

"And you didn't have to bitch about me." you replied harshly.

James' jaw clenched again, and you caught the flash of anger in his eyes.

"I wasn't bitching about you!" he insisted, eyes flashing. "Don't be dramatic."

"Yeah, right.. 'cause calling me a spoiled brat and too much trouble is definitely not bitching." You retorted.

James inhaled sharply, and you could tell you'd touched a nerve. You should be feeling guilty, being a little less vicious to him. But you didn’t.

"I wasn't bitching." he repeated gruffly, his hands clenching around your knees again. "Your dad said that, and I don’t think it’s wrong to state a fact."

Your blood boiled, and you clenched your jaw at his words. 

A fact? Is that how he sees you too? Spoiled, fussy, bratty?

You'd spent your whole life trying to prove otherwise.

“And you just stood there, agreeing with him?” you retorted, voice a mix of anger and hurt. “God, you are just as bad as him. Can’t even pick a damn side. It was only yesterday you said that you hated my dad for letting me go, and then you’re standing in my kitchen gossipping and taunting like high school kids.” you said, ranting off everything on your chest.

His grip tightened and his jaw worked for a moment. “So I should fight with your old man in his house for reminiscing about his daughter?” he said, and the wording set you off again.

You stood up, making him almost stumble back. "Is that what it was? “Reminiscing” by calling me bratty and stubborn? I don't know why I ever came back to this hellhole. All you guys ever care about is pulling someone else down instead of doing something for yourself." you said angrily, chest heaving, before you turned towards the exit.

He stood up too, towering over you and reaching out a hand to grab your arm.

Before you could yank it back, his fingers wrapped around your forearm. Your mouth went dry at the heat of his palm against your skin, and you felt the roughness of his skin against yours.

"You can't just.. go." he said, looking at the ground. For a moment, you thought he was feeling guilty, but then that thought practically flew out of your head when he suddenly yanked you towards him.

You stumbled on your feet at the motion, your body toppling to the side dangerously, right against him.

His free hand quickly came up to grasp your waist, stopping you from falling.

All of a sudden, you were so close, practically pressed against him, every part of your body coming into contact with his hard body. Your face was level with his chest, and god it was infuriating how he smelled so damn good.

Your mind clouded for just a second before you snapped out of it.

"I can, and I will. Because nobody fucking cares about me here, and I don't know why I even expected it." you shot back, looking away.

You tried to push back, but it was like pushing against a solid wall. He was strong.

Your hands were pressed up against his chest, and the cotton of his shirt was stretched tight against his pectorals. It was like feeling an iron pillar under his shirt, hard and unrelenting in its strength.

You shook that thought away. "Let go, James." you said, your voice somehow still steady.

He swallowed, and you saw the way his chest moved up and down as his breathing seemed to get more labored.

James seemed frozen, staring down at you intently.

"You're wrong." He says, quiet but full of meaning. You were about to retort that he was nitpicking at you again but he beat you to it.

"You're wrong. People here do care about you." he interrupted, his voice quieter now than before.

His gaze was intense on yours, and you were suddenly aware of how close you were to him because the faint scent of him, something like musk and woodsmoke was wrapping around you.

You swallowed dryly.

"Like who? Like you, who can't go two seconds without showing me how perfectly you've replaced me in my house?" the bitterness came out automatically, like the defense mechanism you always fell behind. 

That seemed to hit a nerve.

His hand on your waist pulled you closer with a little jerk. Your chest was now almost pressed up to his, and your heart seemed like it was trying to bruise itself against your own rib cage.

His jaw clenched again, and you could see the way his hands were starting to shake, almost as much as your own were.

His eyes were focused on your face again, and you could see the flash of something unreadable on his sharp features. But there was also agitation. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers were trembling against your arm and waist.

Your eyes darted down to his lips, just for a second, before flickering back up to his eyes. Your mouth felt dry, his gaze felt like it was stabbing into you, and your legs were starting to feel fuzzy.

"Damn it, say something." you muttered, annoyed at his lack of response.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing. His face seemed to move a fraction closer to you.

"No." he said quietly.

"No?" you were confused.

"I won't say anything.. because I'm tired of fighting with you. If you’re.. so upset about me talking to your dad about you, I won’t do it, but can we just stop this? I just.. I just want my friend back." the words sounded like it cost him to say them.

Your jaw worked silently, your mind painfully aware of every part of you in contact with every part of him.

"That's.. that's delusional. How can you expect that when you're not the Bucky I left?" You said.

His fingers flexed against your waist, and you noticed they were shaking again. 

“I’m still your Bucky. That hasn’t changed, it can never change.” he spoke quietly, blue eyes boring into yours.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

Your Bucky.

"That's .. not true, and you know it.. my.. " you almost repeated it, "my friend would never talk like that about me. I get that you're mad I left, but I didn't do anything to hurt you.. I had no choice. I don't get why you're acting like I'm your enemy—"

Before you could continue, his hands were suddenly on your shoulders, and you were spun around. You stumbled backwards, almost into the bench, but strong hands caught you, grabbing your waist again and keeping you steady. You found your back suddenly resting against his chest, and his hands were still on your waist.

And then he started speaking, words tumbling like he had been holding onto them for so long. 

"I was furious. I was furious you just left." he said, his hands clenching around your waist again.

You'd never felt this kind of emotion in the words exchanged between you two before. 

He let out a deep sigh behind you, his hands pressed on your shoulders, almost like he was keeping you in place.

"I was angry that you just decided to take off, without thinking about anyone else. I was angry that you just ... ran away. Didn't even bother calling home."

You felt trapped, more so by the words than the bench and him. Every word he said just made you feel guiltier. 

"I missed you." he said quietly, the words almost startling you, and you felt your own breath get caught in your throat. "Missed having you around. You were the one always there, dragging my ass around and never letting me sulk after getting bullied."

This was a whole different side of him. A vulnerable one. 

"No matter how many people called me fat, you stole pies with me .. you snuck into the Rogers' orchard with me, even broke your stupid shin trying to get an apple." He murmured, almost speaking to himself. 

You swallowed painfully, trying to resist the urge to lean back into his chest. He went on talking, almost like you weren't even there.

"No matter what I did, you always stood by me. Always, it was the two of us against all those assholes who made fun of us.. From kindergarten to highschool, you were just.. always there, helping me, saving me from flunking Chemistry, saving me from being stood up at prom.."

He fell silent for a second, before clearing his throat, and speaking again.

"And then you just .. left. Left us all. Left me. It was like I couldn't breathe. Everything reminded me of you."

You wanted to say something, defend yourself maybe, but he continued speaking. "We used to stand there, climbing the fence to see the sunset over the houses. I never thought.. you'd go the other side, leaving me behind." he murmured.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest again, and you felt guilt bubble up in your gut.

"It was.. it was like I was drowning. Everywhere I went, I saw you. I didn't go out for days.. the only place that felt like before was your house." he murmured, hands moving absently on your arm.

“I.. hung out with your parents, thinking maybe you’d show up one day unannounced, surprise them. I didn’t want to be left out when that happened. It started small, I swear, just.. mowing out the lawn once in a while, taking out trash when your mom’s back was hurting. And then it became talking.. remembering how you were, how we were. I never meant to replace you.” he said quietly, making a fresh wave of hurt roll through you.

Had he really waited all this time, hoping you’d pop up?

"Then.. your mom started tellin' about all the dates you were goin' in the city." His tone went slightly rigid, and you stiffened.

"She.. she told you about them?" you breathed.

"Yeah she did." he grunted. "Every damn thing you were doin'."

He was still just touching you, his fingertips grazing your skin. But even that featherlight contact sent goosebumps all over your skin.

"Why?" you murmured, feeling weird about him knowing your love life.

"Because I kept asking." he answered.

He leaned down again, and the roughness of his stubble scraped lightly along your cheek. It made you shiver, your skin tingling from the contact.

"Kept asking about where you were, what you were doing, how you were doing. Your mom loved to talk about it, made it sound like you were living the high life now that you were away."

You could tell the bitterness that was masked in his words.

“I was studying, and working part time, just to complete my tuition, and after that I worked my ass off for the job I got. Just because I never told her about the sleepless nights or workloads doesn’t mean I was out there partying or going on dates every night.” you said, crossing your arms.

His face scrunched into a look you couldn’t quite pin. Your brows furrowed. "Don't tell me you're mad I dated people." you said.

His hands paused at the movement, his fingers burning on your skin.

"Of course I am." he gritted out, and you could practically hear the way his gaze was fixed above your shoulder again."You just ran away and suddenly you're dating god knows who and having fun in the city, like those of us here didn't even exist anymore."

"That." You exhaled deeply. "That wasn't the only thing I was doing, okay? I just told you, I was studying and working hard, don't make me sound like a villain you've painted in your mind."

 “And phones exist. If you were missing me so much you could’ve just called.” you added.

He swallowed again, “I don’t have a phone.” You blinked. “You live off-city, not off-planet. How can you not have a phone?” you said incredulously. 

"That’s— irrelevant. You left." He repeated, almost like a child.

That simple fact seemed to be the core of all his rage and hurt.

You sighed deeply.

"I had to. There's nothing in this town that could contain my dreams." you whispered.

There was a beat of silence, and then his hands were finally off of you.

You felt a pang of disappointment at the absence of his hands, and you inhaled, looking up at him.

His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he was glaring down at you with those darkened blue eyes. The same intense eyes he had been boring into you with this whole time.

"People built a life here, they didn't need some big city filled with idiots to find a purpose." he said defensively.

You scoffed, suddenly feeling defensive, too.

"So that means I shouldn't try to build a life for myself, huh? I should've just stayed in town and found a nice man, had some little kids and been done with it?" you asked, your voice slightly sharp.

"I'm just sayin' you could've stayed." he gritted out, and it sounded like the words were forced.

"You stayed. Tell me, how's that working out for you?" you said, slightly taunting.

He fell silent again, the muscle in his jaw twitched, and you knew he was angry now.

"Yeah. That's what I thought." you said, almost mockingly.

Damn him. He was acting like you were some spoiled brat for leaving, with no good reasons, and all that guilt you had been feeling earlier had vanished. All you could feel now was irritation.

"Don't be like that." He muttered annoyedly, making you scoff.

"I have no other choice, every one in this town seems hell bent on acting like I murdered somebody, while all you guys are doing is drowning in debt and working at fucking car repair shops." you blurted out before thinking it through.

"Jesus Christ." he snapped, finally raising his voice.

"You think I wanted to stay? You think I had a choice?" His hands came out of his pockets and gestured wildly between you two.

"I stayed because this is my home! Because my mom needed me! Because Rebecca needed someone who gave a damn about her!"

Your face twisted. "So you're implying I don't care about my parents? I was fucking ready to give up all of my savings just so mom could get her shop out of debt." you retorted.

James froze, his anger evaporating in an instant.

His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. His hands dropped to his sides again.

For the first time since you'd been back... he looked shocked. Like he genuinely hadn't known that about you.

You hadn't meant to say that.

"Go ahead, now call me a bitch for counting the favours. But I know what I am." You muttered. “Which is someone who isn’t using them as an excuse to hold back. You can act like you’re a better person but it doesn’t change the fact that we both made our choices, like adults.” you said.

"I’m.. not trying to act like I’m better than you. I’m just trying to tell you that you hurt me."

His voice was softer now, all the anger gone. He sounded ... guilty? Confused?

"And you don't have to do that. I never knew you wanted to give them money." he looked down.

"Of course you don't, you're too busy hating me to actually see what I'm doing now." you said, looking away.

James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't hate you." he said firmly. "I never hated you. I hated what you did."

He took a step closer.

"I was just ... pissed that you left without looking back."

"I saw my chance and I took it. And I'm not ashamed about it." you said, crossing your arms

James exhaled slowly, his expression softening even more.

"I get that." he said quietly. "I do."

He shifted on his feet, looking down at the ground for a second before meeting your eyes again.

"But you never told me... any of it."

"Like you would listen." you said, voice tempering down.

"All you had was stars in your eyes whenever my dad was around. Even now you can’t see how he acts towards me. It’s like I don’t even exist to him, and when I do, he remembers that it’s an inconvenience."

"Your dad was a good guy." James said stubbornly, but his voice lacked conviction now. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

He looked genuinely confused, like the idea that your father wasn't some saint had never crossed his mind.

Christ, he really had been blind.

You laughed humourlessly and rolled your eyes.

"You may look different now, but you're still that naive Bucky who stuffed his face and didn't think more than he had to." you said bitterly before turning to leave, shaking your head.

James' face twisted.

"I am not naive," he snapped, immediately stepping in front of you to block your path. "You can't just say that and walk away."

"I can, because you're acting like it." you said, shooting him a glare. “He says a few nice words to you and now you’re siding with him over me? Has resentment made you so blind?”

"How would you be feeling if I left without a word? Huh? Just up and left and never looked back?" he demanded.

"I would respect your choice, not blame you for wanting a different life." you replied.

He scoffed, some of his anger returning.

"Bullshit." he grumbled through clenched teeth. "You wouldn't have respected jackshit."

You rolled your eyes at his statement.

"You don't get to just get up and leave one day, without even saying goodbye, and then show your face here again and act like you did nothing wrong."

The words sent something twisting painfully through your chest.

He was right. But that still didn't justify his anger.

"What do you want me to do, beg for your forgiveness?" you said.

He took a step even closer to you, and despite the irritation running through your veins, your heartbeat increased.

You had to crane your neck to look up at him; his shoulders looked so broad now, his arms so big.

James' hands suddenly shot out and grabbed your forearms now, effectively

trapping you in place. Your heart hammered in your chest at his touch.

"I want you to... act like you have the decency to acknowledge you did something wrong." James said, and your nostrils flared.

His gaze was burning into yours. And you wanted to look away, look anywhere but at him, but he was holding you in place firmly.

"I am not apologizing for something I didn't do. It's not my fault you want to live in this hole in the ground for the rest of your life." you said.

His jaw worked, and he looked like he was on the verge of telling you off again, when suddenly, he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. His head tilted upwards, gracing you with the view of his adam's apple, the light stubble disappearing beneath his chin.

Your throat went dry for a few seconds, before you shook yourself out of it.

"Praying to god, are you?" you muttered, and he exhaled in slight annoyance.

"It's going to rain." He murmured out of the blue.

You blinked, thrown off by his random statement. 

"No it's not. It's the middle of May." you muttered.

He lifted his head back up, opening up those piercing blue eyes again. It did nothing for your brain right now, just made the heat in your body rise to the surface.

"It's gonna.. I can feel it." he replied.

He seemed to be concentrating on something, his brows furrowed and his grip still around your forearms.

His eyes darted left and then right, before looking at you again.

"You should get home."

You stared at him with furrowed brows, confused.

"Why?" you asked stupidly, the word tumbling out of your mouth automatically.

James' hands suddenly let go of your arms, and you immediately felt the cold air at the loss. You resisted the urge to shiver.

"Just... you shouldn't be out here when it's about to rain." he said, not really answering your question. He took a step backward.

"Maybe I want to stand out in this non-existent rain." you said, crossing your arms.

He gave you a look. "You can't be serious. You're wearing cotton clothes.."

You rolled your eyes irritably at his concern. He was starting to act like his old self again.

"I'm an adult. I can take care of myself." you retorted.

He scoffed again, the familiar sound making your irritation rise again.

"Oh, can you? The adultest adult to ever adult." He mocked.

"Wow, that's such a mature thing to say." you mocked him back

His forehead furrowed indignantly at your sarcasm, and you felt the urge to smirk.

There was the James you were familiar with.

"It's not about maturity," he gritted out. "It's about common sense."

"Yeah, and common sense says there's no rain right now." you replied.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle jumping in his cheek in annoyance. You wanted to run your hand along it.

"You're bein' stubborn. It's going to." He shot out through clenched teeth. "You should get home before it starts."

Your brows furrowed, the irritation increasing. Was he really trying to kick you off the street so quickly?

"I'll be fine—" you started, and suddenly a drop of water dropped onto your face, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyes darted upwards.

You closed your eyes, a scowl on your face.

That son of a gun was right.

A couple of other raindrops fell onto your nose and cheeks. You reached up a hand to brush your hair out of your face, and when you felt a few bigger droplets hit the back of your hand, you groaned lowly.

James, meanwhile, was staring at you with a smug, satisfied expression.

"Now will you please get out of the rain?" He asked smugly, his eyes glinting with something that resembled mischief.

Bastard, you thought.

The bastard was smiling too.

A/N: I wrote 24K for this part but I thought that was too long so sorry for the slightly abrupt cut. Side note - Sebastian's Cartier pictures ARE KILLING ME. Can't focus on anything istg 😩 Thanx for supporting, next part out soon!

“James.” You said stiffly. “Hi.”

"Hi." he repeated quietly, finally averting his eyes from you and turning to your mom.

Your head felt like a jumble, flashing again to your childhood, his wide smile & round faced. the best friend you grew up with. Now, he was... this.

This tall, broad, (unhelpful & unfair to be honest), ridiculously attractive man who made your heart go haywire.

You blinked then shook your head, suddenly remembering how harshly he had spoken to you after fixing your car. You pursed your lips, and turned towards the shelves, trying to find the coffee.

Your mom and James were talking lowly behind you, their conversation becoming just a murmur in the background.

You fought the growing tension in your body, trying desperately to ignore the way the soft grey cotton of his shirt stretched across his biceps. You didn't have time for a crush right now, and especially not on a man who had been acting like a dick the day before.

Focus, you told yourself.

You opened the coffee cupboard. Coffee. Coffee. That's what you needed to focus on right now.

You frowned when you couldn't find it in the first cupboard, moving to try the one below the coffee maker.

A strong arm stretched past you, making you jump out of your skin from shock.

James grabbed a jar from the cupboard in front of you, and you stared up at him, barely a foot away.

He was even taller up close. Your nose nearly grazed the hollow of his neck, and it made your head spin with how familiar it should have been, and how painfully new the sensation of standing in front of him was.

He seemed to be breathing hard, his chest rising and falling just a few inches away from yours. His eyes were dark, unreadable as they ran over your face.

In that moment, you wanted to reach out and trace the smooth edge of his jaw. You wanted to feel the stubble under one hand, to run the other along his flexed biceps. You wanted to feel those broad hands on your bare legs, on your hips, holding you up against the nearest wall...

You clenched your jaw and took a shuddering breath. You squeezed your legs together subconsciously. Damn him.

You swallowed your dirty thoughts and grabbed the coffee can from his fingers, turning towards the coffee maker. You start the machine, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck slowly. Your back was to him now, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of you.

Your legs were just as incredible as he remembered, and your shorts barely covered your ass. He couldn't help lingering on it as you stretched to reach something.

His shorts were suddenly way too tight, and he scolded himself as he looked away. He was suddenly (painfully) remembering how you used to look in the tiny shorts you liked to wear as teenagers.

How innocent that version of himself had been then, he thought, his jaw clenching as he watched the coffee drip out of the coffee maker.

You couldn't hear your mom's words anymore, your focus narrowing in on the task in front of you.

Coffee. Focus. Coffee.

You poured the dark liquid into your mug, taking a shaky breath.

Behind you, James moved away, his feet shifting on the linoleum as he continued pulling out groceries from the bag.

You turned with your full attention and leaned back against the counter, cradling your steaming mug in your hands. Unbidden, the memory of yesterday resurfaced. His sweat-soaked chest, abs flexing as he pushed around the machine...

Not the time, you horny weirdo, you told your brain.

James was glancing at you every few seconds, so you decided to give him a look. “Since when do you do my mother’s chores?” I questioned.

“Since I’ve asked him to. He’s such a sweet boy, doesn’t let me carry a thing.” my mom interrupted, practically cooing.

You narrowed your eyes at her, before flicking back to him.

"Really?" You said dryly.

You watched as James shifted on his feet awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

"Yeah." He said gruffly, finally meeting your eye. "Been doin' their yard work, fixing the porch. An' other stuff." His blue eyes were unreadable, but your mind was already working. 

It was hard to imagine the man in front of you mowing lawns, picking up leaves, running errands. The very idea that the James in front of you, all muscles and sharp jaw could possibly be the same dumb kid from your childhood who used to do anything he was told was laughable.

Your mom noticed the awkwardness and tried to fix it by clearing her throat. "James has been great. Really helped us out."

"Do you really need it though?" You said, raising an eyebrow. Her mouth opened and then closed, like she was trying to word it carefully.

James answered instead. "Y'all were tight with the bills, so I said I'd lend a hand." His voice was gruff, and he shifted on his feet.

Despite your irritation just a moment ago, something flared in your chest at his words. 

“Tight with bills? What are you talking about.. Mom, what is he talking about?” you asked, turning to her. Her eyes were wide and she shot James a glance before grabbing your elbow and pulling you away from the kitchen.

“Help yourself to the biscuits, dear.” she called out to him, as she dragged you to the nearest room. Your face was somewhere between confusion & disbelief.

Finally, she closed the door behind us and sighed. “Sweetheart.. I know I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want you to worry for us. These past few months have been.. rough. The boutique, it’s.. not as popular now, and it’s putting us slowly in debt.” She said solemnly.

“Debt?” You echoed in disbelief. “Mom, you’re.. we’re seriously in debt?” Your eyes widened as she nodded once. “How can this.. your boutique was going so well.. why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes searched hers.

“Because I knew you would come straight back.. and try to help us. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” She said, squeezing my shoulder. You sat down on a stool, trying to understand how exactly this came to be. But however long you thought, you couldn’t figure out what exactly had led to this situation. You took a few deep breaths. Your mom had thankfully left you to recuperate on your own, but just a few moments later, there was a soft knock.

“Coming, mom.” You said, rubbing your temple. “Uh.. it’s me actually.” His deep voice said quietly, sounding.. unsure. You stood up and opened the door, revealing a slightly uncomfortable James.

You sighed deeply, before letting him walk in. "You knew.” You said, voice skillfully calm, coming from years of learning how to bottle your anger in front of others. 

He took the full brunt of your gaze and didn't even flinch, which made you grind your molars.

“I did.” He spoke, hands raising in a placating gesture.

“Is that why you didn't take money from me yesterday for fixing my car? Because we're "poor"?" You asked.

He opened his mouth and closed it, trying to figure out how to word it. “It’s not that big of a deal, really. Our families have always taken care of each other.” He said.

Of course, this man hadn't changed one bit. Still the same boy who took everything on his own damn shoulders and act like it didn’t matter.

“Taking care and sparing money are two different situations, James. You can help my parents all you want, but do not put me in the same category as them. I am self sufficient.” you said. 

“Sure didn’t seem self sufficient yesterday.” He muttered, making a strange mixture of anger and shame swell in your chest.

Your jaw worked for a moment, before you left the room and went to yours. You yanked open your purse and pulled out the check book you had. It only had a few pages left, but it didn't matter. You wrote down an amount of one thousand dollars and signed it, ripping it before walking back downstairs.

You find James still standing there, eyebrows pinched in concern while he rubbed a hand over his face. He looked up as soon as you walked in, and his eyes went to the paper in your hand.

"You don't have to-" he began, but you ignored him, shoving the check in front of him. He stared down at the check, not moving. His jaw was clenched again, and you could see the muscle jump with tension.

"There, for your "services"." You said, before gathering your remaining annoyance and turning to leave.

You only managed to take one step, when suddenly his hand snapped out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. The heat of his fingers on your bare skin sent goosebumps up your arms and you spun to face him, yanking your hand away and trying to ignore the way your heart slammed against your ribs. 

"You gotta be kiddin' me." he murmured through his teeth. His body was bristling with tension as he towered over you. You pulled from his grip & crossed your arms, forcing a nonchalance you didn't really feel.

"You're helping my parents, so I'm gonna help you. Our families take care of each other, right?" You repeated back his earlier words, but the tone was polar opposite.

His jaw clenched again, but his eyes refused to soften. He pushed the check back at you.

"Take it back." He said, his arm stretching out between the two of you, the muscles of his biceps shifting under the cotton. You refused to let yourself get distracted by the sheer hotness of his arms and focused back on his face.

He was staring back at you unblinkingly, his jaw clenched and his blue eyes hard. "I told you. I don't take money from friends."

"Good thing I'm not your friend anymore then." You said, glaring back.

He narrowed his eyes down at you, taking in your defiant expression.

"You never stop with the damn dramatics, d'ya?" he grumbled.

"You were the one was fucking pouting yesterday just because I left the town." You retorted, watching his eyes widen. That’s when you realize you swore without meaning to. That’s another thing he wasn’t used to seeing girls do. His mouth fell open slightly, before closing it.

"What.. did you think I won't swear my whole life." You bit out to save grace, looking away from his shocked expression.

He blinked, taking in your words. His mouth opened to respond to your words, but shut again, and he seemed at a loss for words.

Good. You thought smugly, ignoring the way your stomach did somersaults.

His mouth kept opening and shutting, like he couldn't decide what to say, and you decided to take advantage of his shock.

"Take it." you repeated quietly, forcing the check back into his hand.

His fingers accidentally brushed over yours, and it took everything in you not to shiver. Your skin tingled where he'd touched you, but you tried not to think about it. His jaw clenched again, but he didn't throw the check back.

With that, you left him to his thoughts, deciding it was enough interaction for the day. You walked into the living room, collapsing on the couch with a sigh. 

You had to be going insane. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the fact that your mom just told you they were in debt. You shook your head, trying to remember that this was a vacation. You weren’t going to ruin your only days off this year by overthinking. They’ll figure it out, they’re adults.

The door swung open, and your dad walked in. Great timing, you thought to yourself. He barely glanced at you, before asking, "James is here, right?"

"In the kitchen probably." You muttered monotonously, not at all looking forward to their cheering and fistbumping or whatever.

It was a known fact that he adored him, and James idolized the guy like crazy, both coping with their daddy issues and.. “lack of a son” issue. Or at least, it was that way before you left.

For a few seconds, you actually wondered if James was mad at him for letting you leave, like he had said yesterday. But that thought was crushed when you watched your dad's face break into a grin, the two men immediately clasped hands to shake, pulling each other in for an awkward one-armed hug.

You couldn't hear them, but they were laughing loudly within moments. You stared at James as he threw his head back and laughed at something your dad was saying, his eyes bright and a soft smile on his face. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes when your dad suddenly ruffled his hair.

James swatted his hand away, letting out a yelp of annoyance, still smiling.

Something in your chest twisted at the sight of them together, and you looked away as your dad said something to make James roll his eyes and turn away, shaking his head exasperatedly. There was a familiarity between them too, and you weren't sure why it rubbed you wrong.

This was all his fault, why did he have to be in your house all the time? You flicked on the tv with a frown, ignoring the talking.

By now, they were chatting cheerfully, the conversation getting louder, and the sound of James' gruff laughter came to your ears again. God, that laugh was hot. You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on the show playing on the television. It was pointless. You couldn't stop listening in on their conversation. 

"Thanks for trimming our lawn yesterday, son. The place already looks much better." your dad said.

"Yeah? Well I was hoping to hang around, but I don’t think she’s happy with me here." James grunted in reply, and you tensed at the mention of your name.

Your dad guffawed out a laugh. "You know how she is. Never happy with anything."

You frowned at his words. What did that mean?

James huffed what sounded like a dry laugh.

"Oh, that's the understatement of the century."

Your eyes widened. Was he calling you picky? You shifted on the couch, crossing your legs.

"It's that attitude of hers. Always has been." your dad laughed again.

"Always." James agreed, and you bristled at his words.

You weren't that picky, were you? And what did he know about your attitude? You'd changed since he last saw you, you were an adult now, for god's sake.

"Don't know where she gets it from." your dad sighed, and you pursed your lips.

"Oh, I wonder where." James replied in a completely flat tone.

Wow. Your jaw nearly dropped at his words, and you were a breath away from marching in there and giving him a piece of your mind. He knew how sensitive you were about things like this, how you always hated this sort of conversation. Not that expected him to remember that.

But James had remembered.

He knew how much you hated it when people said you were dramatic, or picky. He knew because he'd known you before they turned on you. You clenched your hands tightly in your lap.

"And she gets it so bad. You remember in middle school, the only flavor of milk she liked was chocolate. Specifically, it had to be Hershey's chocolate milk. Nothin' else would do."

A small grin stretched over James' face, and you could clearly make out the dimple in his cheek.

"Oh, yeah. She was so difficult about it." He said, shaking his head, and your blood boiled at hearing your father and him remembering stories of you.

You were not difficult, you retorted internally. You were just particular.

Your dad chortled, clearly amused by the memory.

"Don't get me started." he groaned. "We used to tell her we didn't have money for her expensive tastes, and the next day that little brat would pull a handful of her money from her own little piggy bank to go buy it herself."

James' blue eyes widened. "No way."

"Oh yes she did." Your dad laughed. "Always refused help. Independent thing. That's why she was always so adamant about making sure she didn't need a loan to go to college. Always wanted to take care of things herself."

James paused, considering your dad's words. You couldn't see his face.

"Guess she never grew out of her pickiness." he said finally, and you rolled your eyes internally at his statement.

Your head was starting to ache, partially from their words and partially from you gritting your molars. This was so not the break you had hoped it was. Before they could launch into another story which indirectly insulted you, you grabbed a shrug-on and decided to take a walk. You just needed to escape from the feeling, desperately needed to cool down.

Only to hear your dad's words drift out of the house again, carried by the breeze.

"Not to mention she's a real brat about everything."

Your hands were shaking with anger now, and your breath was almost coming out in pants. How did- how could he-

James said something back, but his words seemed to have been swallowed by the breeze because you didn't catch it.

How could they-

Your dad's voice finally pierced you again. "I bet she's still a spoiled brat, just like when she was a kid. You know, that girl's too much trouble. Never really changed much."

Your jaw clenched again, hard, and your hands curled into fists. Your heart was ramming aqainst your ribcaqe, something annoying blurring your vision as You just walked out of the front gate, going wherever your legs took you.

Your eyes stung, and you blinked a few times, hating the fact that you were on the verge of tears.

You didn't often cry. It took a lot for you to well up with tears, but somehow hearing those words coming from your own father...

Your chest heaved and you sniffed, wiping at your eyes angrily. You were not going to cry.

You marched on, crossing the road and not even paying attention to the few cars that zoomed past you.

It wasn't even that you hadn't been expecting it. Your mom had always encouraged you to be independent- a trait for which you'd always thought your dad would secretly be proud of. So why- how had he been talking about you that way?

Your heart pounded as you walked, but you felt yourself slowing down, your pace almost slowing to a meander. You weren't even sure where you were going, at this point, until the cold gate of the kids' park was pressed against your palm.

You closed the gate behind you, taking a moment to catch your breath. Your eyes felt itchy, but you'd be damned if you let yourself start crying.

Your sneakers scuffed against the dry sand of the park. You sank down onto a bench, pulling your knees onto the seat and looking around the empty park.

You'd spent so many hours of your childhood there, running around and chasing after the neighborhood boys until your mom had to pull you out by the ear.

It still looked the same. Except no boys to chase after.  

You leaned your head against the back of the bench and let out a breath.

You needed to be alone. You needed to cool down.

You'd spent years away from home, but you'd never once felt as on edge as you were now.

It was only a matter of time before your chest tightened up again, and you felt your vision starting to blur.

You blinked again, desperately trying to push back the sudden onslaught of tears before your eyes welled up, but nothing helped.

The dam broke. Tears started streaming down your face, your body shuddering with suppressed sobs as you let yourself crumple back onto the bench.

Your hands shook as you covered your mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that were being ripped out of your throat. Every part of you was shaking, your shoulders shaking in uncontrollable waves of grief and exhaustion that seemed to take everything out of you.

You couldn't control the tears. Your heart ached and all the anger inside you suddenly melted, leaving behind a gaping hole in your soul.

God, it hurt so much more than you'd thought it would.

You'd known your father was... disappointed in you, but hearing him actually say it out loud- it was something you'd never thought you'd hear.

It felt childish to cry this way at your age, but you couldn't help it. You let yourself cry against your hands, hoping that no one would see you in the empty park.

The park seemed to swallow your sobs, wrapping you in silence and isolation and letting you succumb to your sadness.

The sobs gradually seemed to subside, but your body was still shaking with the effort of the tears, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

You sniffed again, wiping at your cheeks and trying to regain control of your emotions.

You let yourself sag back against the bench, tilting your head up to look at the afternoon sky. The sun was inching towards setting, and the sky was turning a mix of deep yellow & pink.

The tears were still staining your cheeks, but the sobs seemed to have vanished. Your body was finally stilling again, and you inhaled a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs.

The sound of crickets rang through the air, and you focused on their chirps, trying to focus on anything other than how much your heart hurt.

You couldn't tell why. Maybe it was the silence of the park, or the memories floating around your head, but your chest felt less heavy and you were less lost than you'd been moments ago.

You barely heard the crunch of gravel over the sound of blood still pumping against your eardrums. You felt exhaustion settling in your bones, and you shut your eyes, leaning your head back against the bench's back.

You felt something in front of you, and your breath hitched in your throat.

No.

You kept your eyes shut, but you could almost feel his presence through his body heat. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, the sudden presence of him making your skin feel feverish.

You heard him crouch down in front of you, his knees audibly cracking. You felt more than heard him sit on the ground, his face level with your knees.

The silence stretched on, and it took everything in you not to crack open your eyes, not to peer through your lashes and try to find his gaze.

Finally, James spoke up, and the sound of his deep, now rougher voice sent a shiver through your body.

His gravelly voice was surprisingly soft as he said your childhood nickname, and you swallowed.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, too focused on keeping your eyes shut. You didn't want him to see your tear-stained face.

There was a shift of movement, then strong hands gripped your knees.

James' hands on you were as big as they'd always been, your kneecaps circled in his hands. You drew in a breath, your brain scrambling at the suddenness. His hands were big and calloused, and the roughness of his hands against your sensitive skin sent goosebumps up your legs.

You could feel your heartbeat throbbing all over your skin now, especially where he was touching you.

His hands stayed firmly planted on your knees, and your breath stuttered.

He was so close. You could almost feel his breath on your legs, and the thought of that proximity sent heat spreading through your body.

His hands were gentle, careful even, and it caught you by surprise.

"What do you want?" You finally whispered.

His hands flexed around your knees, his fingers tightening just a little.

He swallowed audibly. "You been cryin'."

Part 3 is out!

Note: I would love to hear suggestions about this, whether it's too angsty or talky or is the reader too emotional, all are welcome <3

You knew you shouldn’t have let your parents talk you into visiting them in the middle of summer. Every possible sign from the universe had tried to warn you.

First, when you bought your plane tickets on that “totally legit” website your cousin had recommended, only to find out it was a scam. Then your boss —who wouldn’t have approved your vacation unless someone held him at gunpoint— reluctantly agreed because you literally hadn’t missed a single day of work.

Yesterday your suitcase zipper exploded out of nowhere while you packed —seriously, how does a zipper just detonate?— so you threw everything into your backseat like a raccoon with a personal vendetta.

And now, your car had decided to die in the middle of the highway when you were so freaking close to home.

Your shirt clung to your back; the sun was so bright your eyes stung as you squinted at the faded road sign ahead.

15 Miles to Raybridge.

“Perfect,” you hissed, shielding your eyes as you leaned over the hood of your very hot, very dead car. Maybe some sort of mechanical enlightenment would strike you like a divine vision.

It did not.

All you saw was metal, wires, and a chaotic tangle of things you wished you’d paid attention to back when you used to hand your father his tools.

You tugged your phone out of your pocket—fine, you could call your dad or one of your neighbours— and unlocked it only to find… nothing.

Zero bars.

Absolutely no signal.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you lifted the phone toward the sky as if the universe might reward your efforts. You took a few steps. Tilted it. Stretched your arm like you were trying to make contact with extraterrestrial life.

You were so focused on your mission to summon a single bar of service that you didn’t notice the blue pickup truck slowing to a stop beside you.

A man’s voice called out your name, low, surprised, like he wasn’t sure you were real, cut through the shimmering heat. You turned from your screen, frowning, only to meet a pair of bright blue eyes. “Holy shit, it is you.” he breathed out.

“Uh… can I help you?” you murmured, lowering your phone as the stranger parked on the side of the road.

“I’m James.” he tapped a hand to his chest. “We were neighbors. We used to make mud pies behind the Carsons’ barn, remember? And hide in Roger’s apple field whenever we skipped Sunday mass….” his smile faltered when you continued staring.

“Our families spent Christmas together for years.”

“Oh! Right– Hi” you chirped, maybe a little too brightly. Relief washed across his face instantly, his smile blooming as he stepped out of the truck.

The last time you’d seen him, he’d been shorter than you, with braces the size of a small fence and cheeks so round the grandmas of both families fought over who got to pinch them.

Now…

Now he stood a head taller, all long limbs and broad shoulders. The braces were gone, replaced by high cheekbones and a sharp jaw that could probably cut . The soft blue T-shirt clung to him like it had personally signed up for the job, stretching over muscle and revealing a sliver of strong forearms where the sleeves were rolled.

“Car trouble?” he asked, snapping you out of the blatant staring you were definitely doing.

You cleared your throat. Violently. “I– yeah. My car’s trying to kill me, actually.” You gestured helplessly to the smoking hood. “At this point I’m tempted to leave it here and walk the rest of the way.”

“Don’t worry,” his voice dropped warm and confident. “I can handle it.”

He went to his truck, opened the passenger door, and pulled out a red toolbox like it weighed nothing. Sunlight caught in his hair as he leaned under the hood.

“Didn’t know you were coming back.”

He murmured, shooting a glance.

"I'm.. just visiting." You said, crossing your arms as you watched him, definitely interested in the car insides.

He glanced at you over his shoulder for a moment, the blue of his eyes vivid against the sunlight. It was different—and strangely unsettling— being under his gaze now for some reason.

“How long you’re staying?” He asked, disappearing back into the engine.

“A week, maybe two,” you replied, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. James knew you better than anyone here, more than your own damn family at times, or at least he used to.

But the silence between you somehow felt heavier than the heat.

He came out again, wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead with one arm and holding up a grimy tool in the other.

“Your alternator’s dead.” he informed you.

You cringed, nodding.

“That sounds… bad.”

He huffed a laugh, leaning over the hood again as he dug back in with the tool.

“Nothing I can’t fix.”

Your eyebrows arched. “You’re an expert car savior now, huh?”

He shrugged. “A lot of things changed while you’ve been gone. "

The statement hung in the air for a moment. There was something behind it, a thinly veiled accusation you couldn’t name.

“Right.” you said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’ve only been gone a few years, James. What’s that supposed to mean?”

He paused whatever he was doing, straightened up to his full towering height, and turned back to you. Something close to a scowl darkened his features.

“You really need me to spell it out?”

A beat of silence settled in. He didn’t say anything more, but the sudden tension in his jaw said enough.

It shouldn’t have stung.

You’d left—you’d left for a reason, and you’d said your goodbyes. But somehow this new, sharp-edged James had you faltering more than the old one.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, James,” you finally broke the silence. “Everyone knows there’s no future here for people like me. I…” you swallowed dryly. “I had to leave.”

He snorted. “No future, huh?” his tone changed, mocking. “You sound just like your daddy.”

It felt like a slap more than any words could’ve done. All the air left your lungs, and the words spilled out angrily, without thinking.

“You mean the one you love? The man you practically worshipped?

James’ jaw clenched as the accusation hung in the air, heavy and damning. He took a step closer, towering over you. You tried to hide any sign of weakness, but your hands shook.

“Worshipped.” he echoed. “You think I worshipped the man that took my best friend away from me with a goddamn suitcase?” James’ voice rose, angrier than you’d ever heard.

Your eyes widened, but if he saw it he didn’t care. He took another step closer, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he leaned down to meet your gaze.

“You think I didn’t know you were leaving for months before you decided to tell me?” he hissed. “You could’ve been anywhere. But you left me here.”

The confession hit you like a punch, knocking the air out of your lungs. “I… tried to tell you….” you struggled to get the words out, but he shook his head, the anger making the blue in his eyes seem brighter.

"Forget it." He scoffed, before returning to fix your car.

You stared at him for a moment, mouth open in shock. He ignored you as he leaned back into the engine, shoulders rigid.

You crossed your arms, trying to control the swirl of emotions. He’d never been this angry with you before, never accused you of leaving him here. What the hell was his problem?

You tried to swallow the hurt as you leaned against the car, silently watching him.

His hands moved with practiced efficiency, tightening and adjusting. For a moment, you focused only on the way his fingers handled the tools, almost admiring.

You shook your head at the sudden thought.

Who the hell thinks about hands at a time like this?

You closed your eyes and let out a breath, trying to push away any confusing thoughts. As if he could feel your gaze on him, James straightened, grabbing the hem of his shirt with one hand and wiping his brow.

The strip of exposed skin revealed his waist—narrow, all muscle and strength.

Oh Lord.

Your cheeks flushed a beet red and you fixed your gaze on your shoes.

You waited in silence for a while, the heat nearly intolerable and the tension still heavy between you two. After what felt like an eternity, James finally finished up with the engine, closing the hood with a decisive slam.

His eyes flickered to yours. “You should be good now.”

You blinked, still trying to recover from your brain’s very inappropriate train of thought. “Oh. Good.” You cleared your throat, avoiding his gaze.

“How much do I owe you?”

He was silent for a moment, and when you dared to look up, the sharp edges were gone from his expression. He looked almost tired.

“It’s on the house.” he muttered before turning, toolbox in hand.

Your mouth opened then closed. "That's not.. I'll pay of course.. you don't need to do that." You said. He didn’t turn, just raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“Don’t worry about it.” with that, he tossed the box into the back of his truck, not once looking at you.

He was actually just leaving? Like that?

You stared at him then frowned, annoyance mixing with hurt. “Are you seriously just going to ignore—”

James interrupted, the soft sound of your childhood nickname tumbling from his lips. You were stunned momentarily as he finally looked up at you. He shut his eyes for a second like he was gathering courage, and the look on his face was something you’d never seen on him before.

Vulnerable.

“Can you just… not.” he muttered. “Just please don’t.”

Your throat burned at the nickname, jaw working, before pride mixed with annoyance.

"Fine. Be that way." You muttered, before going back to your car and taking off.

If he said anything more you didn’t hear it. You got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, turning the key to start the now-functioning engine.

You didn’t wait for James as you pulled back onto the road, away from him and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

You couldn’t get his voice out of your head.

”A lot has changed since you left.”

He couldn’t seriously expect you to stay here. In this town where you knew everyone but they didn’t even know you. Where you were forced to be the version they wanted you to be instead of the person you’d always been.

No, leaving was the right choice. You knew that.

So why the hell did you feel so damn guilty?

"It's not my fault this shitty town has nothing." You scoffed to yourself.

You drove the rest of the way with your thoughts in a tangle and the music blasted loud enough to drown out any lingering words. Even though your AC managed to work properly now, you kept the windows down, hoping the summer heat would somehow burn away the heavy feeling in your chest.

You almost missed the sign towering over the side of the road.

WELCOME TO RAYBRIDGE

You slowed as you entered town, scanning familiar buildings and landmarks. The grocery store, the small movie theater. The park where you played as a kid.

Most people were heading home from work or running late afternoon errands—the ones you recognized did double takes when they saw you. It annoyed you for some reason, the way they stared.

Finally, you pulled into the familiar parking lot of your childhood home, noting the flower beds your mother had planted years ago and the curtains she’d put up just last week.

You switched off the engine and sat for a moment. Your parents knew you were coming, and you were already dreading the questions you’d have to deal with during your visit.

Not to mention you’d have to tell your father about the damn alternator.

You groaned, gathering your things and shoving open the car door.

Your gaze flickered once to the Barnes household next door, before shaking off your thoughts and walking up the steps.

The moment you opened the front door and saw the living room, the tension in your shoulders relaxed.

Nothing had changed in the years since you left. The couch was the same, photos on the mantel were the same, even those damn fake flowers from the early 2000s were still there. You shook your head, taking off your shoes as you called out.

“Mom? I’m here!”

You were immediately attacked by what seemed like a lump of yarns, wet kisses being planted all over your cheeks.

You grimaced with a laugh. "Alright mom, you can calm down now." You chuckled.

"My baby is finally here! Oh how I've missed you. I'm so glad you came to visit your old ass parents." She said, leaning into the dramatics.

You rolled your eyes. "Someone's gotta be the good guy I guess." You shrugged, before both of you fell into a fit of giggles.

"Okay, okay.. enough chittering missy, you go rest in your room and unpack.. or unload, I'll get something going." She said, briefly eyeing the lack of a suitcase.

You saluted her before walking up the stairs with half your clothes in your hands. You dumped them on a chair before plopping on your bed, staring at the ceiling fan.

Thoughts of Bucky crawled into your head again, unwilling, you told yourself.

James. You reminded yourself. He wasn't the lovely, chubby Bucky you knew anymore.

He was annoying, self centred, arrogant and full of biceps and long hair and wait- what were you thinking again?

You groaned and laid on your stomach.

Just as you were about to rant to the gods, a loud roar of a lawnmower interrupted your thoughts. "Who the hell-" you muttered, turning over, staring out the open window, and your mouth went dry.

Outside was possibly the most attractive human being you’d ever laid eyes on. He was standing next to a lawnmower, shirtless in the summer heat, his jeans riding low on his hips.

Your brain malfunctioned for a few seconds as the man ran a hand through his long hair, revealing a set of abs that looked like they’d been sculpted by some talented artist.

Holy Hell.

He was tall and muscular, his shoulders broad, his arms flexed as he leaned down and pushed the mower forward a few feet, a sheen of sweat covering his torso like some sort of hot, hot greek god.

You felt heat rising in your cheeks as you watched him move. His back was to you, but you were sure with a body like that, his front was just as good as his back.

You really needed to stop staring.

But you couldn’t rip your eyes away from him. He was pushing the lawnmower with all his weight now, and the muscles of his shoulders, back, and arms flexed in a way that made you want to fan yourself.

Your face heated up even more as he suddenly reached up to pull those black hair away from his neck, and you stared unabashedly at the way his bicep bulged.

You were in so much trouble.

Before you could fantasize more, he turned. Your mouth hung open, because there stood James.

Once again, you were sharply reminded of how much he had changed. There was barely a trace of the round-faced childhood best friend you remember, replaced by this man. A man who looked like he’d stepped out some hot fireman calendar while you’d been away, all strong muscles, jaw with a rough shadow of beard, and abs you could’ve made a religion out of.

Your eyes dropped from his face to travel down his chest, taking in pecs and abs that looked like they’d been chiseled by a master. They were dripping with sweat, and his jeans were just too low, exposing the top edge of his black boxers.

His skin was tan, smooth and flawless and perfect, and for a second you wondered how it must feel to touch him.

His face looked just as good as the rest of him… maybe even better. His lips were full, his jaw chiseled, that jaw that was still sprinkled with a layer of dark stubble.

You licked your dry lips involuntarily, hand itching to reach between your legs.

He took off his cap with one hand and ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked brown hair, cursing under his breath at the heat.

Your legs turned to jelly as you watched him rake the hair back, revealing a brow with a sheen of sweat, eyes sharp and focused ahead.

His jaw was clenched, and for a moment you wondered what he was thinking about before your eyes drifted to the strip of skin just above his jeans and you suddenly forgot what your own name was.

And somehow, things got worse.

He reached back to pull his shirt from the grass and slipped it on, giving you a perfect view of those arms flexing. A second later that delicious torso was covered and you tried desperately to control your breathing.

He walked over to his lawnmower, giving you a full view of his ass.

Good lord.

What were you witnessing right now? Was this some sort of hallucination? Some fever dream?

He turned back to his task, running a hand through his hair again, and you nearly collapsed into a heap. The muscles of his arms flexed again, and you wondered what kind of torture he put his body through to get that sort of muscle definition. Whatever the hell he was working with, it was doing things to you.

In the back of your mind, you felt ridiculous. Your first day back, and already you were getting flustered over a boy.

Even as you forced yourself to tear away from the window (only because his gaze flicked up once), the image followed you into your dreams the next day.

His face was the first thing you saw as you opened your eyes, and your mind immediately went back to the sight of him from the day before.

Those arms, his abs, the sweat on his biceps that had you practically drooling…

You squeezed your eyes shut again, trying desperately to shake away the memory.

It was just the heat messing with you.

Right?

Your thighs still felt sticky, sweat or uhm.. other things, you weren't sure. You huffed and trudged into the shower.

The cool water helped clear your head, and you were finally able to control your brain enough to think of something else… anything else.

You weren’t a kid anymore, you reminded yourself. You were a grown ass woman, for gods sake. You couldn’t still get flustered over a boy you hadn’t seen in ages.

You frowned at the obnoxious products on the shelf. But there wasn't much choice so you shrugged and hoped it wouldn't kill your hair. You washed the long strands with the strawberry shampoo, honey body wash scrubbing into the soft skin.

It took an insane amount of willpower to not let your hands wander as you washed, the image of him in your head and the memory of his sweat-slicked abs still burned in your brain.

You groaned in frustration and shut the water off. This was ridiculous.

You were drying your hair, dressed in shorts and a tank top, as you wandered into the kitchen.

"Mom, is there any-" you were cut off when a chuckle sounded through the kitchen.

Your mother’s surprised laugh was the first thing that registered, and then your jaw dropped.

James Barnes was standing in your house, his arms filled with food containers and a gallon jug of milk.

He looked just as good in a grey t-shirt as he did yesterday, only now his hair was tamed and combed back.

His blue eyes widened as he caught sight of you, and his hands froze where they currently were setting down the groceries.

“Uh….” he said intelligently, mouth opening and closing uselessly. His eyes ran over your face, your neck, and lower, taking in the bare legs he used to be so well-acquainted with.

“Good morning hun!” she said, clearly trying to break the sudden tension. “We have a… guest.”

"I can see." You murmured, shooting her a look.

You swallowed dryly and turned back to James, who was still staring at you.

“James.” You said stiffly. “Hi.”

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