Fake it till you make it

Everything was perfect. The cake batter looked good. You dipped a finger into the glossy batter for a taste before pouring it into the pan. The moment it hit your tongue, your whole world stopped.

It tasted wrong and salty. Your eyes widened. Your soul left your body. You stared at the bowl for a while, gears turning in your head. And then it hit you, you checked the unlabeled containers with salt and sugar, and realized that you used salt instead of sugar.

Then you did the only reasonable thing. You abandoned the bowl, marched straight to the bedroom, buried your face in a pillow, and cried like the universe had wronged you on a cosmic level.

Bucky peeked into the bedroom, brow furrowed, trying to figure out how you went from “cake goddess” to “devastated puddle” in under two minutes.

“Sweetheart…what happened?” he asked gently, sitting beside you and soothingly rubbing your back with his hand.

You sniffled dramatically. “I ruined it.”

He blinked. “The cake?”

You nodded into the pillow.

“What happened?”

You lifted your head just enough to mumble, “I put salt instead of sugar.”

There was a long pause.

A very long pause.

Bucky’s lips twitched as he bit down on them, his jaw tightening and his shoulders shaking, he was definitely, 100% trying not to laugh.

“Bucky!” you warned.

He cleared his throat, forcing his face into something resembling seriousness. “That…is very tragic,” he said, voice wobbling.

You glared at him through watery eyes. “It’s not funny.”

“I know,” he said, failing miserably to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not funny at all.”

You sniffed again. “It was going to be such a good cake.”

Finally, he got into bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “Hey. We’ll make another one. Together. I’ll even be in charge of the sugar so we don’t end up with…whatever that was.”

You groaned into his chest. “It tasted like sadness.”

Everything was perfect. The cake batter looked good. You dipped a finger into the glossy batter for a taste before pouring it into the pan. The moment it hit your tongue, your whole world stopped.

It tasted wrong and salty. Your eyes widened. Your soul left your body. You stared at the bowl for a while, gears turning in your head. And then it hit you, you checked the unlabeled containers with salt and sugar, and realized that you used salt instead of sugar.

Then you did the only reasonable thing. You abandoned the bowl, marched straight to the bedroom, buried your face in a pillow, and cried like the universe had wronged you on a cosmic level.

Bucky peeked into the bedroom, brow furrowed, trying to figure out how you went from “cake goddess” to “devastated puddle” in under two minutes.

“Sweetheart…what happened?” he asked gently, sitting beside you and soothingly rubbing your back with his hand.

You sniffled dramatically. “I ruined it.”

He blinked. “The cake?”

You nodded into the pillow.

“What happened?”

You lifted your head just enough to mumble, “I put salt instead of sugar.”

There was a long pause.

A very long pause.

Bucky’s lips twitched as he bit down on them, his jaw tightening and his shoulders shaking, he was definitely, 100% trying not to laugh.

“Bucky!” you warned.

He cleared his throat, forcing his face into something resembling seriousness. “That…is very tragic,” he said, voice wobbling.

You glared at him through watery eyes. “It’s not funny.”

“I know,” he said, failing miserably to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not funny at all.”

You sniffed again. “It was going to be such a good cake.”

Finally, he got into bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “Hey. We’ll make another one. Together. I’ll even be in charge of the sugar so we don’t end up with…whatever that was.”

You groaned into his chest. “It tasted like sadness.”

You knew it was ridiculous. Who got weak in the knees over someone's scent? But every time he walked past, leaving just a trace of it lingering in the air, you found yourself closing your eyes and breathing in deeper than necessary.

Thankfully, Bucky was completely oblivious about it.

"You're staring again," Sam muttered one day, elbows perched on the table beside you.

You snapped your gaze away from where Bucky was standing by the window, nursing a coffee and looking out into the city. "I don’t stare," you argued, voice a little too defensive.

Sam raised a brow. "Mhm. And you don’t take deep breaths when he’s near?"

You felt your face heat up. "That’s insane."

"Is it?" Sam smirked. "I bet if I pointed it out to him, he wouldn’t even notice. Man’s got the observational skills of a rock when it comes to women."

You shoved Sam’s shoulder, laughing. "Don’t you dare."

Unfortunately, Sam dared.

A few days later, you caught Bucky looking at you differently. A little longer, a little more curious. His brows knit together like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

It was during a mission debrief when he leaned in closer than usual, speaking in that low, raspy voice of his. "Hey…do I smell weird or something?"

Your heart nearly exploded. "W-what?"

"Sam said that you-uh-you like my scent or something?" Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking adorably puzzled. "I don’t know. I just-"

You were going to murder Sam.

Heat rushed to your face as you cleared your throat. "I-it’s not weird! I just…it’s nice? Comforting, I guess. Maybe it's the shower gel or cologne you use."

Bucky stared for a second. Then, his lips twitched into a smirk. "Comforting, huh?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "You know what, just forget I said anything."

"Hey," he chuckled, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face. "I think it’s kinda nice that you notice things like that."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his stubbly jaw, seeming thoughtful. "If it makes you feel better, I notice things about you, too."

"You do?" You looked at him, surprised.

Bucky nodded. "You always pick up your pen and twirl it when you’re nervous. Your laugh, especially when Sam annoys you, kinda lights up the whole place. And you lean on people you trust."

"Oh."

"Would it be weird if I asked you out?" Bucky smiled.

"No," you breathed out, lips curling into a soft smile. "Not weird at all."

His smile grew, almost shy. "Then…how about dinner?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Barnes?"

Bucky shrugged, chuckling. "Guess I am."

Your grin was impossible to contain. "Then yes."

Sam, watching from across the room, pumped his fist in the air. "Finally!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, but his attention never wavered from you.

Bucky picked you up at your door, a little nervous but playing it cool, wearing a dark leather jacket. He smelled exactly like you loved it, maybe even better. “You ready?” he asked, with a softness in his smile.

You ended up at a cozy little cafe tucked away in a quiet corner of Brooklyn. It was dimly lit and warm. Bucky ordered his usual black coffee, and you teased him about being predictable, while he countered with a smirk, “Well, you’re pretty predictable too, considering how much you like sniffing me.”

You groaned, covering your face. “You are never letting that go.”

“Nope,” he said, sipping his coffee like he won’t stop teasing you for the next century.

But then the teasing melted into something gentler, real conversation, stolen glances, the way his fingers brushed yours on the table, the quiet click of everything falling into place.

After coffee and dinner, you walked through the streets, talking, laughing, hands inching closer, closer, until Bucky just took your hand.

Eventually, you stopped on a quiet bridge overlooking the water. The city glowed around you, but all you could focus on was him. His warmth, his presence, the scent you had always loved.

“You having fun?” he asked, thumb running gently over the back of your hand.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. “Yeah. You?”

Bucky didn't answer with words. He just stepped closer, eyes flickering over your face, and then he leaned in. The kiss was soft and slow. It felt perfect.

And when you pulled apart, you exhaled shakily, grinning. “You still smell amazing, by the way.”

You knew it was ridiculous. Who got weak in the knees over someone's scent? But every time he walked past, leaving just a trace of it lingering in the air, you found yourself closing your eyes and breathing in deeper than necessary.

Thankfully, Bucky was completely oblivious about it.

"You're staring again," Sam muttered one day, elbows perched on the table beside you.

You snapped your gaze away from where Bucky was standing by the window, nursing a coffee and looking out into the city. "I don’t stare," you argued, voice a little too defensive.

Sam raised a brow. "Mhm. And you don’t take deep breaths when he’s near?"

You felt your face heat up. "That’s insane."

"Is it?" Sam smirked. "I bet if I pointed it out to him, he wouldn’t even notice. Man’s got the observational skills of a rock when it comes to women."

You shoved Sam’s shoulder, laughing. "Don’t you dare."

Unfortunately, Sam dared.

A few days later, you caught Bucky looking at you differently. A little longer, a little more curious. His brows knit together like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

It was during a mission debrief when he leaned in closer than usual, speaking in that low, raspy voice of his. "Hey…do I smell weird or something?"

Your heart nearly exploded. "W-what?"

"Sam said that you-uh-you like my scent or something?" Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking adorably puzzled. "I don’t know. I just-"

You were going to murder Sam.

Heat rushed to your face as you cleared your throat. "I-it’s not weird! I just…it’s nice? Comforting, I guess. Maybe it's the shower gel or cologne you use."

Bucky stared for a second. Then, his lips twitched into a smirk. "Comforting, huh?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "You know what, just forget I said anything."

"Hey," he chuckled, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face. "I think it’s kinda nice that you notice things like that."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his stubbly jaw, seeming thoughtful. "If it makes you feel better, I notice things about you, too."

"You do?" You looked at him, surprised.

Bucky nodded. "You always pick up your pen and twirl it when you’re nervous. Your laugh, especially when Sam annoys you, kinda lights up the whole place. And you lean on people you trust."

"Oh."

"Would it be weird if I asked you out?" Bucky smiled.

"No," you breathed out, lips curling into a soft smile. "Not weird at all."

His smile grew, almost shy. "Then…how about dinner?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Barnes?"

Bucky shrugged, chuckling. "Guess I am."

Your grin was impossible to contain. "Then yes."

Sam, watching from across the room, pumped his fist in the air. "Finally!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, but his attention never wavered from you.

Bucky picked you up at your door, a little nervous but playing it cool, wearing a dark leather jacket. He smelled exactly like you loved it, maybe even better. “You ready?” he asked, with a softness in his smile.

You ended up at a cozy little cafe tucked away in a quiet corner of Brooklyn. It was dimly lit and warm. Bucky ordered his usual black coffee, and you teased him about being predictable, while he countered with a smirk, “Well, you’re pretty predictable too, considering how much you like sniffing me.”

You groaned, covering your face. “You are never letting that go.”

“Nope,” he said, sipping his coffee like he won’t stop teasing you for the next century.

But then the teasing melted into something gentler, real conversation, stolen glances, the way his fingers brushed yours on the table, the quiet click of everything falling into place.

After coffee and dinner, you walked through the streets, talking, laughing, hands inching closer, closer, until Bucky just took your hand.

Eventually, you stopped on a quiet bridge overlooking the water. The city glowed around you, but all you could focus on was him. His warmth, his presence, the scent you had always loved.

“You having fun?” he asked, thumb running gently over the back of your hand.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. “Yeah. You?”

Bucky didn't answer with words. He just stepped closer, eyes flickering over your face, and then he leaned in. The kiss was soft and slow. It felt perfect.

And when you pulled apart, you exhaled shakily, grinning. “You still smell amazing, by the way.”

You knew it was ridiculous. Who got weak in the knees over someone's scent? But every time he walked past, leaving just a trace of it lingering in the air, you found yourself closing your eyes and breathing in deeper than necessary.

Thankfully, Bucky was completely oblivious about it.

"You're staring again," Sam muttered one day, elbows perched on the table beside you.

You snapped your gaze away from where Bucky was standing by the window, nursing a coffee and looking out into the city. "I don’t stare," you argued, voice a little too defensive.

Sam raised a brow. "Mhm. And you don’t take deep breaths when he’s near?"

You felt your face heat up. "That’s insane."

"Is it?" Sam smirked. "I bet if I pointed it out to him, he wouldn’t even notice. Man’s got the observational skills of a rock when it comes to women."

You shoved Sam’s shoulder, laughing. "Don’t you dare."

Unfortunately, Sam dared.

A few days later, you caught Bucky looking at you differently. A little longer, a little more curious. His brows knit together like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

It was during a mission debrief when he leaned in closer than usual, speaking in that low, raspy voice of his. "Hey…do I smell weird or something?"

Your heart nearly exploded. "W-what?"

"Sam said that you-uh-you like my scent or something?" Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking adorably puzzled. "I don’t know. I just-"

You were going to murder Sam.

Heat rushed to your face as you cleared your throat. "I-it’s not weird! I just…it’s nice? Comforting, I guess. Maybe it's the shower gel or cologne you use."

Bucky stared for a second. Then, his lips twitched into a smirk. "Comforting, huh?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "You know what, just forget I said anything."

"Hey," he chuckled, reaching out to gently pull your hands away from your face. "I think it’s kinda nice that you notice things like that."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his stubbly jaw, seeming thoughtful. "If it makes you feel better, I notice things about you, too."

"You do?" You looked at him, surprised.

Bucky nodded. "You always pick up your pen and twirl it when you’re nervous. Your laugh, especially when Sam annoys you, kinda lights up the whole place. And you lean on people you trust."

"Oh."

"Would it be weird if I asked you out?" Bucky smiled.

"No," you breathed out, lips curling into a soft smile. "Not weird at all."

His smile grew, almost shy. "Then…how about dinner?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Barnes?"

Bucky shrugged, chuckling. "Guess I am."

Your grin was impossible to contain. "Then yes."

Sam, watching from across the room, pumped his fist in the air. "Finally!"

Bucky rolled his eyes, but his attention never wavered from you.

Bucky picked you up at your door, a little nervous but playing it cool, wearing a dark leather jacket. He smelled exactly like you loved it, maybe even better. “You ready?” he asked, with a softness in his smile.

You ended up at a cozy little cafe tucked away in a quiet corner of Brooklyn. It was dimly lit and warm. Bucky ordered his usual black coffee, and you teased him about being predictable, while he countered with a smirk, “Well, you’re pretty predictable too, considering how much you like sniffing me.”

You groaned, covering your face. “You are never letting that go.”

“Nope,” he said, sipping his coffee like he won’t stop teasing you for the next century.

But then the teasing melted into something gentler, real conversation, stolen glances, the way his fingers brushed yours on the table, the quiet click of everything falling into place.

After coffee and dinner, you walked through the streets, talking, laughing, hands inching closer, closer, until Bucky just took your hand.

Eventually, you stopped on a quiet bridge overlooking the water. The city glowed around you, but all you could focus on was him. His warmth, his presence, the scent you had always loved.

“You having fun?” he asked, thumb running gently over the back of your hand.

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. “Yeah. You?”

Bucky didn't answer with words. He just stepped closer, eyes flickering over your face, and then he leaned in. The kiss was soft and slow. It felt perfect.

And when you pulled apart, you exhaled shakily, grinning. “You still smell amazing, by the way.”