#freyawrites

“Calm down, Quinn,” Jack chuckled with a punch to his chest as he gazed at your back. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Quinn rolled his eyes and rubbed his sore hip that had hit the counter. “Shut up,” he mumbled.

Luke laughed in unison with Jack and butted in, “Well she might disintegrate if he keeps staring her down like that.”

Your ears perked up and you turned to hear what Quinn would reply to these comments that he had heard very often from many different people. He looked up to meet your eyes with an amused expression on his face.

“Y/n, do you think I stare at you?”

“You’re literally staring at me right now,” you said with a chuckle, returning the look into his deep brown eyes.

Everyone erupted into laughter, including his mom who came behind you and patted your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry sweetheart. Quinn’s always been like that. When he was little, he would stay outside the rink staring at flowers because they were ‘sooooooo pretty’.”

“Is that so?” you pried at your boyfriend, already gravitating towards him as he made his way to you.

Quinn pushed your hair out of your face before wrapping an arm around you. “What can I say? I like beautiful things,” he pressed a kiss to your hairline while you patted his chest.

Luke made a horrified noise at the sight of affection and Jack fake gagged while covering Luke’s eyes with his hand.

“Dude, have some respect,” Jack said in fake horror. “We have a child here.”

With said child being 22 year old Luke…

Quinn scoffed as you giggled along with them and pulled your hand to guide you upstairs with a wave. “ G’night, everyone. See everyone tomorrow.”

Ellen said goodnight to both of you, but Luke and Jack exclaimed in unison: Goodnight, Y/n!

You laughed but Quinn whipped around and shot them a look. “Watch it, you two.”

As the snickers faded, you slipped into Quinn’s old room. His parents had been kind enough to move in a new, bigger bed when they learned the young couple would be staying for a while, something they explained to you when you first arrived that morning.

You ran a hand over the soft comforter while Quinn threw himself over the span of the wide mattress. “It was really nice of your parents to move this in, babe.”

To no surprise, you turned to see his eyes trained on you in an unwavering stare as he spoke with a slight grin. “Yeah, they didn’t want you to be uncomfortable sleeping in the guest room. They don’t mind us being together.”

You raised a brow. “Unlike my parents, huh?”

Quinn laughed at the memory that bubbled up. “That weekend we spent over there for your birthday was so funny. Your dad told me if he heard me try to get out of the guest room at night, then he would lock my door.”

You sat beside him with a laugh. “God they were so paranoid. It’s like they don’t know we live together.”

Quinn frowned at you being at the foot of the bed, so he pulled you closer to him and replied, “Maybe they’re hopeful that we sleep in different rooms or something.”

You two laughed, but the joyful moment was inevitably interrupted with Jack’s voice from behind the closed door. “Hey, I’m hearing fun but let’s not have too much fun, guys. I’m next door and I like my beauty sleep.”

“Jack!” you groaned in exasperation.

“Can you name your kid after me at least?” Luke snickered almost immediately after.

“Luke!” Quinn shouted even louder.

You two waited until their laugher faded down the hall into silence so that you could speak again. He pulled you onto him once again, like you could have been any closer to his warm body. He was wearing a sweater so soft that it felt like your face was pressed up against a heated blanket and his hair smelled like the good shampoo that his mom had stocked the bathroom with.

Your head was on his chest, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“You’re staring,” you said softly while you ran a hand over his sweater.

His chuckle rumbled through his chest, making you smile to yourself as he spoke in a low mumble. “How did you know?”

“I can feel you looking at me, Quinn,” you replied as you raised your head to look at him and roll your eyes. “I know you.”

“For one, don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said casually while he took advantage of you being upright to kiss your neck. “And for two, I don’t see the problem with staring at my girlfriend, who you know, uses my netflix subscription shamelessly.”

You laughed as his stubble tickled your neck. “I live in your apartment and pay no rent, but you’re calling me out on the Netflix subscription?”

He pulled away to meet your eyes again with a shrug.

You wriggled further under the duvet, controller in hand, eyeing Bucky with a smirk. He was slouched beside you, his hair pulled back in a low tie that wasn’t doing a very good job, and a scowl already brewing across his face as the loading screen finished.

“You realise you’re about to embarrass yourself again, yeah?” you said, your tone all innocent sweetness.

Bucky glanced at you sideways, unimpressed. “Sweetheart, I’ve fought actual wars. Don’t think a video game’s gonna take me down.”

“You say that every time,” you replied, “and yet here we are. Three weeks running, reigning champ: me.”

His scowl deepened, though his lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. “You’re insufferable when you’re smug.”

“And you’re insufferable when you lose,” you shot back. “Which is often.”

He muttered something under his breath, but the game started before you could tease him further. You leaned forward, eyes on the screen, fingers quick on the buttons. For the first lap, Bucky actually managed to keep pace with you, which was unusual.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “A bit of practice while I wasn’t looking?”

“Maybe,” he said, and you didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking.

Then, without warning, he slammed his character into yours, sending you straight off the track.

“Oi!” you shouted, scandalised. “You absolute fucker!”

“That’s called tactics, doll,” he said, smug as anything.

“That’s called being a cheating sod,” you retorted, frantically trying to get back on course.

By some miracle, you clawed your way back into the lead before the final lap, and when you crossed the finish line first, you let out the loudest cheer possible, just to rub it in.

Bucky groaned, dropping his controller onto his lap. “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.”

“Four nil,” you sang, waggling your eyebrows at him. “I’m unstoppable.”

“Unbearable,” he corrected, glaring at the screen.

“You love it,” you said smugly.

“Do I?”

“Yes. Otherwise you’d have stormed off hours ago instead of sitting here getting your ass handed to you.”

That got a laugh out of him, deep and low, and it made your stomach flip in that stupid way it always did. He shook his head, raking a hand through his messy hair. “You know what your problem is?”

“Winning too much?”

He gave you a flat look. “Smart mouth.”

“Funny, that’s what your problem is too.”

Before you could blink, his metal hand darted out, cold fingers pressing against your side. You yelped and twisted away, giggling helplessly as he tried to tickle you.

“Not fair!” you squealed, batting at him. “You can’t just… oh my God, stop!”

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Reckon this is the only way I’m ever gonna win.”

“You’re a menace,” you gasped, finally wriggling free.

“You started it,” he said, smirking as if he hadn’t just cheated twice in a row.

The next match was chaos from start to finish. The two of you shouting insults at each other like kids on a playground.

“Did you just hit me with a shell?!” you cried.

“Course I did,” he said smugly.

“You utter bastard!”

“Language, sweetheart.”

“You don’t get to pull the Steve Rogers routine when you’ve just sabotaged me!”

He laughed so hard he almost dropped his controller, and that was your moment to slip past him and snatch victory at the last second.

The string of colourful curses he let out had you in stitches. You leaned back against the cushions, clutching your stomach from laughing so much.

“Face it, Buck,” you managed between giggles. “I’m just better than you.”

“You’re not better,” he grumbled. “You’re… lucky.”

“Mm, don’t think luck’s got much to do with it,” you teased. “Skill, darling. Pure skill.”

He gave you a look then, the kind that promised trouble. “Only one way to wipe that smug look off your face.”

Before you could react, he leaned over and kissed you, cutting off your laughter. You squeaked in surprise but melted instantly, your hand fisting in the front of his T-shirt. He pulled back just enough to smirk against your lips.

“See? Winner.”

You gave him a shove, though your grin ruined the effect. “That does not count as winning.”

“Does in my book.”

“You’ve got a funny idea of rules, Barnes.”

“You’ve got a funny idea of mercy,” he shot back. “Can’t even let me win one bloody match.”

You pretended to think about it. “Nope. Too entertaining watching you lose.”

He narrowed his eyes, then launched himself at you, trying to wrestle the controller out of your hands. You shrieked with laughter, twisting under the duvet as he pinned you down.

“Give it here!” he demanded.

“Never!” you cackled, holding it out of reach.

After a few seconds of ridiculous squirming, he managed to snatch it from you, holding it aloft in triumph. “Ha! Finally.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Congratulations. You’ve officially won… theft.”

He grinned down at you, his hair falling loose around his face. “Better than losin’.”

You both collapsed back onto the sofa in a heap of tangled limbs and blankets, breathless with laughter. Outside, the rain pounded on, but the apartment was warm, glowing with the kind of comfort only found on nights like this.

After a long moment, Bucky let out a contented sigh. “You know, this might be my favourite way to spend a Saturday night.”

“Being humiliated?” you asked innocently.

“Being with you, smartass,” he corrected, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

You felt your cheeks heat, though you rolled your eyes. “You’re still making the hot chocolate though. That was the deal.”

He gave you a look of mock offence. “Even after all my suffering?”

“Especially after all your suffering.”

He shook his head, grinning as he got up to put the kettle on. “One day, doll, I’m gonna beat you.”

You snuggled deeper into the duvet, smiling smugly to yourself. “Not very likely.”