Ours Is The Fandom

 Arthur pivoted to look at the crowd and gestured wildly, “She was over there last I saw her, talkin’ up a storm with some bloke”. Tommy struck up a match to light the cig taking his time to do so to calm down, he inhaled sharply on the stick and turned to face the crowd too. “Some bloke?”, he prompted his brother who only shrugged in response, “Better go find her Tom”. Thomas gave Arthur his signature stare before he did just that.

Wading into the crowd he was polite to the people who spoke to him, though he didn’t stop when they tried to carry on the conversation. He’d almost walked fully round the Garrison and he even would’ve missed you had he not heard your unique laugh drift through the air like a siren’s call. He turned on his heel, his blue eyes clocked you in a corner that was dimly lit, standing too close to a man he didn’t know. You were laughing about something he had said, the man had reached out and gently placed his hand on your arm.

It took less than a second for him to arrive near you.

“(Y/N)”, Tommy’s gravelly voice sharply interrupted your conversation, he spared you only a moments glance before he began to access your acquaintance, “Who’s your friend?”. The question sounded harmless to you but the man involuntarily straightened his posture, his hand returning to his side. “Tommy when did you get here? This is Sam”, your tone was happy, voice slurred. “Sam”, Thomas rolled the name off his tongue like it was poison, “Sam what?”. 

The Peaky Blinder continued to stare Sam down, he didn’t even turn to look at you when he saw you grow serious out the corner of his eye. Even though he wasn’t a very tall or heavy-set man, Tommy was still able to intimidate even the biggest of men with just his very presence. “Behave we were just talking”, you sighed, Tommy could just hear the pout present on your face and when he finally ripped his eyes away from your friend, he was right. You were pouting up at him as if he were the only person in the room. “You were just talking”, Tommy puffed out smoke which hung in the air. “Yes Thomas, that’s how you make friends”, your irritation was becoming obvious. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows mockingly. He hated it when you called him anything but Tommy. “How you make friends”, he took another long drag of his cigarette observing you, he knew he was playing with fire by purposely provoking you but he just couldn’t help himself. He watched the way your perfect features contorted nastily, “What’s so wrong with making friends?”, Thomas didn’t react, he deliberately took his time puffing on the cig knowing it would drive you mad. Just as he opened his mouth Sam interjected, “It’s been wonderful (Y/N), but I think I best be off”. 

Thomas snapped his head towards the man, a slight scowl on his face, “Yeah I think you better”.

You were jolted out of your thoughts. “What the fuck?”, Tommy muttered to himself, turning the key in the engine but to no avail. You snapped your head over your shoulder to shoot a foul look at the man unhappy that a problem had arisen. “Stay here”, Tommy instructed, monotonous as always. You rolled your eyes at him just as he climbed out of the car, “As if I had anywhere else to go”. You watched him make his way to the front of the car, unable to stop a wicked smirk from spreading across your face from watching him get battered by the harsh rain. The Brummie lifted the hood only then just realising just how bad the situation was. Dark funnels of smoke wafted up into the air only just barely visible. Thomas cursed to himself. He pulled his hat further down on his head, the rain dripping from the brim fell on his face as he put the hood down.

Getting back into the car, he slammed the door and stared at the steering wheel, cogs turning in his head.

“Is there a problem?”, you questioned pointedly. Thomas took a moment to gather his cool before finally letting his blue eyes meet your own, “Yes (Y/N), that’s why we’ve stopped”, he answered in an almost condescendingly way. For the second time that night you rolled your eyes at him. Your attitude was getting the better of you and wearing Tommy’s patience thin. This was the last thing you both needed. “I mean can you fix it”.

With a sigh he picked up his previously discarded cigarette to light it up, “No (Y/N) not without tools which I don’t have”. You couldn’t help but throw your hands dramatically into your lap. Facing the window once again you huffed, “Great so we’re stuck”. Taking a long drag from his cig, Tommy repeated your words as he blew out the smoke, “We’re stuck”. A natural silence fell in the car, rain continued to hammer down making little echos in the car. You were watching the droplets cascade on the window feeling more and more frustrated with the situation. “Right”, Tommy started, opening his door the freezing cold of the outside world seeped inside, “I better go find a telephone box”. A hand on his arm stopped his movement, he looked at you expectantly, “You’re going out? In this?”.

Tommy’s eyebrows seemingly knitted even though the movement wasn’t obvious, his glanced away for a second, “Yes that’s what I just said”. 

Your fingers uncoiled slightly but didn’t release his arm, “But it’s pissing it down, you won’t even be able to see the phone box let alone in front of you”. Tom made no move to push you off yet with his free arm he pushed his door even wider, “I’m sure I’ll be fine (Y/N)”. Still you didn’t relent, “We don’t even know where we are Tommy and it’s so dark”. Tom studied you for a second taking note of your features: anyone else wouldn’t of been able to notice but Tommy knew you, he could see the slight panic behind your eyes and could feel it in the way you gripped his arm, “You’re afraid aren’t you?”. 

You scoffed artificially hoping that it would displace the thought from Tom’s mind, withdrawing your hand you refused to look at him. Connecting the dots Tommy closed his door fully as the car was now as cold as the outside, “You’re afraid of the dark”. You folded your arms across your chest, “No Tom”, you spoke softly, “I’m afraid because you’re going to leave me in the middle of nowhere, in the dark of night to find a phone box that could be miles away”. 

Thomas reached out and gently held your thigh, “Love, if I don’t we’re going to be stuck here and its freezing. You’ll get ill”. You could already feel the anger you felt from earlier melt away as his thumb glided gently over your skin, “Can’t we just wait till it gets lighter? Don’t leave me”. 

“I forgot how good you are at making these”, you garbled through a mouthful of pancake, “But Dean’s were always better”, you were unable to stop the sentence from spilling out from your mouth, Sam didn’t miss the way your face fell. “Yeah well he still won’t share his secret recipe with me...How have you been anyway?”. You were grateful for the swift topic change, it was almost like nothing had changed between the two of you. Dean was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear the sound of Sam talking to you. He froze up, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He lent against the wall, only a few metres kept him from you. Your voice was still the same but as he listened he noticed you sounded tired in a way that he couldn’t place even though it sounded familiar. The more he listened to your soft spoken words to Sam, the more it provoked feelings of nostalgia as his mind fleeted away to a better moment in time:

“Good morning sleepyhead”, you cooed to Dean who walked into the kitchen wearing nothing more than his bathrobe, you were stationed over the hob watching the bacon and eggs cook. Dean placed his head onto your shoulder, engulfing your waist with his big arms he asked, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”. You giggled, “Your favourite”. Dean tightened the grip momentarily with a hum of approval, then he pulled on your hips to make you face him, “You’re too good to me princess”, his accent heavy with sleep. He pressed his lips to yours as you let your arms wrap around his neck. “Gross you guys, I’m trying to eat”, Sam piped up from the table, a look of mocking disgust across his face. You pulled away from Dean with a smile.

Dean couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten by scoring you: his perfect dream girl. He let you turn back around, “Way to ruin the moment Sammy”, he took a seat across from his brother who laughed at his quip. He watched as you hummed to yourself flipping the eggs, taking a swig from his coffee he was content with the picturesque scene before him.

‘Yeah’, Dean thought, ‘I could get used to this’.

“--and that’s how I took out a whole nest of vamps”, you grinned proudly, watching the visible surprise grow on Sam’s face, “No way, not even me or Dean could’ve done that!”. Upon hearing his name, Dean was thrust back into the real world. He snorted out a puff of air in irritation, breakfast would have to wait. Spinning on his heel he made no effort to conceal the sound of his movement, pissed off that he couldn’t even go anywhere in his own house, couldn’t eat and that he felt like he’d been ran over by a truck.

The noise caught both yours and Sam’s attention. It felt like you’d been punched in your gut, like there was no air getting to your lungs. You waited for what felt like an eternity for Dean to walk into the room but he never appeared. “So where were we anyway?”, Sam questioned, drawing your attention back to him.

“Like I was saying--”.

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Sam later found his brother in the library, glued to his laptop screen with a sour look twisting his features into a permanent scowl. His hand was gripping a beer bottle, (like usual), while the other hand scrolled endlessly through useless articles.

Sam cleared his throat, “Any luck?”. Without looking away Dean answered dully,  “I thought I told you to tell her to go”. Sam pursed his lips. When a reply never came Dean glanced up at his brother, raising a brow in an almost antagonising manner. Sam shifted his weight knowing that anything he said wouldn’t sate his brother, “We need her Dean”. His older brother shut his laptop lid with more force than he meant, he stood up, “How is (Y/N) gonna help huh? What’s she going to do that we can’t? Does she know something we don’t?”, Dean paused to let Sam interject but the look on the younger man’s face said it all, “That’s what I thought. We don’t need her, I mean just look at all the other hunters we got runnin’ around here, we don’t need another taking up space”.

Sam softly said, “Dean (Y/N) can help you just need to give her time--”. 

“Time!?!”, Dean scoffed in disbelief, “We don’t have time! She either helps now or I’ll pack her bags myself”. He snatched his beer from the table to storm off to his room. As he booked it around the corner he almost bumped into you, you didn’t need to have heard the conversation he’d just had with Sam, (even though you just did), to tell from his body language that he was livid. Dean’s green eyes widened in shock for a split second before the mix of previous feelings misted over his eyes; hurt, anger and confusion. He quickly pushed past you, your shoulders bumping as he hurried back to his room, “Watch where you’re going”, his voice low like a growl. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone just as fast, low key wishing he’d lingered for just a few moments longer to take in your relatively unchanged appearance.

Watching his shadow disappear around the corner, you couldn’t stop the tears that began to well in the back of your eyes. Timidly shuffling into the library you found it to be occupied by only Sam. Dean’s words stung as you repeated the sentences in your head. Sam looked up and met your eyes, his demeanour swiftly eased into a much more inviting one, his arms almost twitch up to offer you a hug.

Even though your voice was low as you spoke there was clear determination laced in your tone, “I’ll show him Sam”. With a plan already beginning to formulate, you planned on how to soothe your wounded pride.

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A sarcastic laugh erupted from your mouth. You shook your head at Billy in disbelief, “Billy its none of your business, now leave me alone”. 

He stared daggers down at you, the shadows from his brow bone made his eyes appear almost black. The thought of you being with anyone else, anyone else that wasn’t him, ignited a fire deep down inside which threatened to burn to the surface.You knew he was trying to intimidate you, but you stood your ground. “Oh so there is someone then?”. You stepped back from Billy, “Are you done? I’ve really gotta get going”. The scowl grew as his mind whirled trying to come up with the answers that you weren’t giving him, “It’s him isn’t it?”, his eyes searched yours as visible confusion developed on yours, “What?”. Billy scoffed, he looked away to drag a hand across his stuff before he looked back down to you, “It’s him Murdock, I should’ve saw it coming”. You gave a snide chuckle, “Oh you really are crazy”. Deciding you weren’t going to indulge him anymore you were about to walk away when he carried on, “Don’t play coy with me (Y/N), how long has it been going on?”. Turning on your heel you forced out a goodbye, then you carried on making your way home. 

But Billy wasn’t going to let it drop that easily, he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted.

He followed behind you, “Were you seeing each other while we were still together? Does he make you smile? Hold you close at night? Answer me”. You gritted your teeth and continued to walk down the street a little faster. You knew how Billy worked, he’d keep pushing and pushing, tearing you down until you gave him an answer even if it wasn’t true. “I could have given you the world (Y/N), what does he have that I don’t?”, his accent thick.

Billy was surprised when you stopped dead. You tilted your head over your shoulder, face void of all emotions while you contemplated if he was deserving of an answer. You’d been with Billy long enough to see how he ran his company Anvil, you’d been with him long enough to know he wasn’t clean. That there was a shady, dark side to his work and to him himself. Billy hadn’t hurt you, but you knew he’d hurt people. So against your better judgement, you answered his question, “Well for starters, Matt is a good man and a decent human being. If you come near me again Russo I’m getting a restraining order. Goodbye”. 

Sam opened the door to the room you once occupied; the double bed was still draped in its tan sheet, the fur blanket neatly folded across the bottom. You walked in recognising the faint smell of the vanilla incense you used to burn was still somewhat lingering lightly in the air. Dumping the bag you still carried onto the floor you reached out to take the other from Sam, “I’ll talk to him”, the younger brother stated, “It’ll be okay (Y/N). You nodded wordlessly. The expression on your face said it all, Dean would not be happy with this. The light clicking of the door closing made you exhale the breath you’d been holding, now that you were alone your let your eyes dance around the room noticing that the few trinkets you’d left where still in the original place you’d put them. There were a few photos you had left behind, unable to grab them in your mad dash away from the bunker. The frames held a thick layer of dust. Using the back of your sleeve you wiped it away to reveal the smiling faces of you and Dean, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms were wrapped around you. The memory replayed clearly in your head as if it happened yesterday:

“Hey Sammy, take one of us!”, Dean chirped happily as he forced the camera into his brother’s hands quickly running back over to you, he grabbed you tightly by the waist and forced you into his side. You giggled out his name, a wacky grin plastered on both of your faces as you snuggled even closer, “Say cheese!”, Sam shouted, enjoying the scene before him. With a flash, the picture had been taken and without wasting a moments time Dean detached from you to snatch the camera back.

He turned it around in his hands to examine the shot, “We look adorable”, he declared. “Lemme see”, you reached out but he moved it from your grasp, “I promise. Sam c’mere it’s group photo time!”.

Meanwhile as you were reminiscing on the joys of the past Sam went off to find his older brother and drop the bombshell. 

Dean was none the wiser as he sat alone in the kitchen sipping from his beer and skimming his laptop screen for any new leads about Micheal. The footsteps approaching pulled Dean out of his stupor, letting his eyes refocus he looked over to the door. He nodded his head at before looking back to the bright screen. Sam slowly skulked into the room trying to figure out how to break the news to his brother, “Any news?”. “Nothing, it’s like he’s gone ghost”, Dean closed the lid to his laptop and took an extra long gulp from his beer. Sam took a deep breath, “Yeah, he’s gonna turn up sooner or later...uh I called in some help”. 

“Help? Ain’t we got enough hunters around the place?”, he chuckled taking note of the solemn expression on Sam’s face. Sam cleared his throat, “Um an old friend actually”. Dean placed his now empty beer bottle down with more force than he meant, “Old friend?”, his lips formed a frown as Sam nodded, “Yeah, I called in (Y/N), thought we could use the help”.

Dean’s eyebrows knitted together. He puffed out the air in his lungs, “Old friend?”, he repeated sarcastically, “That’s a funny joke Sam”. The older Winchester was finding it hard to control the anger and hurt he could feel bubbling inside him.  The chair scrapped loudly across the kitchen floor letting Dean stand up to his full height, when Sam didn’t say anything other than cross his arms awkwardly Dean growled out lowly, “Sam you didn’t”. “Look we needed--”, he started but his brother cut him off, “You can’t be serious! I thought we said no more secrets and (Y/N)? Of all people? We don’t even need the help”, he thumped his palm onto the kitchen counter and started to walk towards the door. Dean stopped a few inches away from Sam, “Tell her to leave. Now.”, his boots pounded on the titled floor, “She’s not welcome here”. As Dean’s footsteps faded down the corridor Sam snarked, “Well that went better than expected”.

The older Winchester was trying not to see red as he mindlessly walked through the bunker, his heart was threatening to burst with feelings that he thought he’d repressed. Dean was hurt mostly; you being back here was a can of worms that he did not want to open, yet when his footsteps stopped he found himself outside your bedroom door. The number 32 glared back at him as he mindlessly stared at it, it was almost taunting him to knock. He raised his fist. It hovered over the dark brown oak.

What would he even say to you? There were a million and one things he could say, that he should say but how would he even phrase them? Should he get angry, would he cry?

Your fingers danced on the edge of the photo frame you couldn’t convince yourself to put back down yet, too caught up in the way the feelings of the past spoke to you. A creak sounded outside your door. It was so soft that if it weren’t for your trained ears you wouldn’t of heard it. You quickly returned the photo to the original spot like it had scolded you. Jumping onto your bed you rapidly yanked your laptop out of your bag and pretended to look like you were busy. You waited for the knock on the door, but it never came. 

Out of all the Avengers Nick could’ve called back in, why did it have to be him?

Discarding your clothes you made your way to your shower while pondering on your thoughts, almost chuckling at the bitterness which clouded your judgement. “I don’t know why I care”, you reached out for the faucet and turned it up to the highest temperature, “It’s not like he does”. You hissed as the hot water met with your skin, your statement was mostly true. Steve’s own actions had proved that.

With a groan, you pressed your head to the tiles and recounted Tony’s past words, ‘Don’t get involved with teammates’.

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Steve stepped off the quinjet with Bucky in tow, the fresh air felt much cooler than that of the humidity they were used to in Wakanda, “So much for that retirement”, Bucky chuckled. Steve let a smile slip onto his face as he tightened his grip on his duffle bag, “Well what can you do when the world needs us?”. Truth be told the Captain was grateful to be needed again, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed his 6 months away from avenging he was antsy to get back to work. A normal life wasn’t quite what he thought he wanted.

“Let’s get this show on the road then”, the Winter Soldier made his way into the compound. A chorus of hellos met the pair. Steve’s baby blues flickered around the room as he greeted his former teammates noticing the lack of a certain someone. He couldn’t say he was surprised but some part of him had been hopeful. He made a mental note to ask Nat about your well being later. 

“Great to see you again Sam”, Steve greeted his old partner with a half hug as the man joked back, “Still haven’t aged a day I see”. Steve chuckled, “The Wakandan sun does wonders, how you been?”. Sam released him allowing him to step back, “Not too bad, it was nice to do absolutely nothing for once”. Sam nodded, happy to have his friend back in the same country, “I hear that, the Winter Jackass stay out of trouble?”. Looking over to Bucky he answered Sam’s question, “He’s okay, can’t say I’m on board with his new found love for goats though”. Sam visibly looked surprised and before he could ask what Steve said, “Sounds better if it comes from him”. 

At this Nat saw her opportunity to talk to Steve, “Hey soldier, let me take you to your room”.

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4 o’clock in the morning was the perfect time to train at the Shield compound. No newbie agents to gawk and watch you awestruck as the mighty Red Viper, famed partner to the Black Widow, (and rumoured scorned lover to Captain America), unleashed her fury on whichever unlucky punching bag she’d strapped up. You almost chuckled as you struck the bag full force. Sleep wouldn’t come with all the thoughts bobbling around in your head.

That seemed true for other occupants of the compound too.

Steve walked towards the gym without a thought. He liked to start off his day early even if it was a little more earlier than usual, his body clock was still trying to adjust to the new timezone. When he saw the light on in the gym he didn’t think twice but when he opened the door and saw the familiar figure moving effortlessly, he almost backtracked.

You hadn’t heard the door open over the sound of your flesh slapping against the fabric of the bag, too lost in your own musing. Steve debated his options: against his better judgement he decided to test the waters, after all when would he catch you alone like this again? There was no harm in friendly chatter. So letting the door drop loudly, he made his way over to the bench placing his water bottle near your own belongings.

You hadn’t expected company so early in the morning, reaching out you stilled the frolicking bag and looked behind you immediately regretting your decision. 

There he stood still looking the same as the day he left, blonde hair a little longer but his beard still neatly trimmed. His ageless face still perfect, those eyes as calm as the ocean on a sunny day and just as deep. You took note of the slight tan which kissed his skin and the way the corner of his lips pulled up into a polite smile, “(Y/N)”. His voice the same tone, and just as buttery-smooth, the same voice when had whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you basked in each other’s warmth.

“Rogers”, your voice was void of any emotion as you tried to keep your cool. The sound stung him a little but he didn’t say so, nor did he try to press you to speak letting you swiftly turn back around and resume with your training. As much as you wanted to flee from his presence, you refused to be intimidated by him. You’d have to get used to be around him, at the end of the day you were expected to work with the super soldier which meant you couldn’t always run from him. Steve wrapped his knuckles while observing you throw punches. Even though you were trying hard not to show how affect you were by his arrival, he could tell by the way you hit the bag.

“If you keep going like that you’re gonna sprain your wrist before we even start the mission”, he spoke softly, his shoes noiselessly bringing him closer to you, “Is this what Sam is teaching these days?”.

You didn’t laugh at his quip but you did slow down your swings in order to reign in your punches. Steve internally sighed and went to pick up a punching bag of his own, setting it up a few metres from you. This caused you to frown. It was silent for a moment before he opened his mouth again, “So--”, only to be cut off by you snapping, “Just stop”, your head jutted over to looked at the solider. If looks could kill Steve would be a dead man, “Stop what?”, he asked, feigned innocence on his puppy-like face. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Stop talking to me like we’re friends”, you deadpanned, stopping your workout entirely so you could face him. Steve crossed his arms over his chest almost defensively in the same manner he used when he was about to give one of his famous speeches, “Just making friendly conversation (Y/N), didn’t want it to be awkward”. 

You scoffed, “Didn’t want it to be awkward huh?”, you repeated nodding your head. Taking a step back you decided that maybe it was bedtime; spinning on your heel you headed towards your belongings. You were stopped by a gentle tug on your arm making you turn back towards Steve. The smell of peppermint and forest-lakes tickled your nostrils, the once familiar scent comforting but now only served as a nasty reminder as to what once was.

There were unspoken words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces said enough. 

Your eyes drifted over his face, Steve studied yours in turn letting his eyes linger just a little longer on your lips. You noticed the action making your stomach churn from a mix of butterflies and anger. You froze. His hand slowly glided further down your arm, stopping when he encased your small hand with his much larger, rougher one. The sick feeling wavering in your abdomen wanted you to run, to move, to do something other than let him work his magic over you; but there you stood staring into his eyes with your feet planted to in the ground. Steve opened his mouth, the apology which was supposed to be spoken was instead replaced by a squeeze to your hand and, “Rest easy, we have a long day tomorrow”.

The woman’s blonde hair was pulled back delicately behind her ear, pinned back by a simple yet intricate silver hair pin. The rest of her locks were softly curled into beautiful waves that cascaded down her shoulders leading perfectly into her dress and once he drank in the sight of it, he had to suck in a breath. She was wearing a red satin dress which made her figure pop and even though the dress was plain, Bucky swore Jessica Rabbit herself would be envious of all the attention she was commanding. He had to swallow before he opened his mouth, suddenly feeling like he was on fire, “More like a tough week”, he gave a curt chuckle letting his eyes drop to the floor but as you laughed the melodious sound forced his vision back onto you, a sickly feeling of dejavu hit him in the gut:

“Mission report Soldat”, she laughed, smirking all the while at the Winter Soldier who loomed in the doorway. Still dressed in his mission attire he ripped the goggles from his face and then the mask, “You shouldn’t be in here”, he scowled back, placing the items on the table. The asset’s room was bare save for the few pieces of furniture and of course, her. 

She hopped up off his bed and sauntered her way over to him, her hips moving deliciously and soon he realised her game.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”, she purred coming to a halt in front of him, she could smell the strong scent of iron and the faint smell of gunpowder signalling his mission was a success. The soldier refused to look at her in an attempt to keep what little power he had, “You know what they’ll do if they find you in here”, he warned. You giggled and flitted past him, he kept straight-forward and you nudged his door closed, “Don’t tell me that the big, bad Winter Soldier”, you teased him placing your tiny hands onto his broad shoulders with your thumbs pressing into just the right places, “is afraid of having a little fun”. 

In a flash he had you pressed against the now closed door, one hand gripping your hip so hard it was already forming a bruise while the other forced your shoulder into the door. Your scent was tickling his nose, he could smell your arousal, (thanks to his super senses), and he’d barely touched you. His cold eyes bore into your own which sparkled with mischief and when you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, he could’ve moaned. 

In a clash of teeth and a tangle of limbs you were hiked up into the air. Your legs wrapped around his waist mechanically as they had done so many times before while his hand made quick work of your tactical pants and....

“Ugh tell me about it, it’s always work work work”, you smiled graciously, and moved to copy Bucky’s stance, resting your petite figure against the bar, ripping him out of his hidden memory. Bucky felt dazed, like he shouldn’t be here and not because of the fact that he really shouldn’t be, but there was a nagging voice inside his head setting off red flags about you. There wasn’t something right with you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it: was it your otherworldly beauty? The way you spoke like butter wouldn’t melt? Or was it that strange aura that danced around you, making Bucky feel like he was drawn to you. The Winter Soldier had to force himself to speak, “It never stops does it?”.

He risked another look at you taking in your whimsical expression, “No”, you sighed with a hint of agitation, you reached into your cleavage and pulled out a small tube of lipstick, “It really never does”. Your carefully applied it to your lips as you watched the room and had Bucky been more vigilant and less infatuated, he would’ve noticed your eyes were also trained on his target.

Loudly smacking your lips, you tucked the tube back into your cleavage. “How do I look?”, you asked Bucky, your hands on your hips and a wolfish grin graced your features. His eyebrows shot up, he let out a low whistle playing into the theatrics, “Like a million dollars. Who’s the lucky guy?”. This time Bucky didn’t miss the way your features seemed to turn darker, it sent a chill up his spine as you started to walk away, “You’ll see”. You chuckled internally at the expression on Bucky’s face which somehow mirrored that of a confused puppy. Even as you turned away from the brunette you could still feel his eyes burning holes into your back. In an instant Bucky’s expression soured as he watched the mob boss pull you into a hug. You’d played him like a fiddle and he’d allowed it, he could’ve kicked himself for being so stupid. Steve had warned him that there might be others who would’ve also tried to take initiative at this event. Bucky rapidly planned out the best way to deal with you but he fell up short. He was reduced to watching you sway around the room, the mob boss attached to your hip and when your eyes locked, Bucky had never felt more angry when you flashed him a toothy grin. Anger at his mission quickly becoming a failure or anger at the fact that some low life had his filthy hands roaming your body, he wasn’t quite sure.

A voice in your concealed earpiece urged you to hurry your mission up so with one last twirl, you kicked it up a notch. 

Bucky watched, unable to take his eyes off of the way you wrapped yourself around this mob boss. Your lips captured the target’s own in a long kiss that distracted the man. Your hands were quick and deft as you gently took the man’s phone, unbeknownst to him. You slipped it into a hidden pocket in your dress. Had Bucky not been a super assassin, trained to spot things like this, the action would’ve gone unnoticed. “I’ll be right back”, you said sweetly to the mob boss even pressing another chaste kiss against his lips for good measure.

As you turned on your heel, you grinned wickedly to yourself, “Mission success”, you mumbled to the earpiece. You were only a few paces away when a cold hand wrapped around your arm tugging you to a halt, “I think you have something of mine”, Bucky grumbled lowly, his friendly exterior completely dissolved. You feigned surprise, “Excuse me?”. you announced loudly. At the sound eyes drifted to the scene, instantly Bucky knew what you were doing, “Just give it to me then we can go our own ways”, he replied softly. His blue eyes serious despite the way your eyes sparkled playfully, “I don’t know what you’re on about let me go!”. Your display didn’t go unnoticed as the mob boss bounded over, his arm protectively snaking around your waist and pulling you into his side, “Everything okay here, (Y/N)?”.

Bucky was forced to let go of your arm as to not cause an even bigger scene. You nodded your head slowly, doe-eyes glistening with false tears. Bucky was impressed by your acting skills, “Go on”, the mob boss nudged you towards your previous destination, “I’ll take care of it”, then the mob boss turned his attention to Bucky as you skidded off towards the exit.

“Look man, she’s got something of yours”, Bucky showed his hands in a display of false submission, even though he was about to attack the man. Before he could, the mob boss opened his mouth and violently started to choke. He clutched at his neck as his face turned purple. Everything turned to shambles. Chaos ensued as the mob boss’s men jumped onto Bucky, trying to apprehend him for a crime he didn’t commit. In the madness of it all Bucky glanced to the doorway and sure as hell there you were; stood proudly like a cat that got the cream. A blonde wig in one hand, you shook out your real (H/C) locks. Your other hand tapped your lips allowing Bucky to guess that your lipstick wasn’t lipstick at all, but rather a chemical agent. With a cheeky wink and the blow of a kiss, you vanished around the corner leaving Bucky to clean up the mess and report his failure back to his team.