cami

Next to him, Alpine meowed. Bucky tilted his head and stared at the white cat. "Yeah, you're absolutely right."

—

His questions were still left unanswered in the afternoon. You sat on the couch, a book opened over your lap as you took one of your hands to brush through Alpine's fur. Dinner was cooking in the oven, and your phone had a timer set to twenty more minutes.

"Tony is throwing a Halloween party." Bucky came through the door, walked towards you and rested his weight against the couch.

"I know," you muttered in response, eyes not leaving the book.

"Of course you know. It's a costume party," he added.

You closed the book and stared at your boyfriend incredulously. "I don't know where you're trying to get at. I know it's a costume party."

"And you're dressing up, right?"

"Of course I'm dressing up; I love dressing up."

"What are you dressing up as? You've been coming home with a bunch of new clothes lately—" There went Bucky's best attempt at trying to pry information from you.

"I'm not telling."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's just me. I don't care what you dress up as. You don't need to hide stuff from me."

Mischeif broke through your face. "Oh, you so want to know!"

"I don't."

Famous last words, because from that day onwards, Bucky Barnes had to pretend that he could not care less about what you were dressing up as. He couldn't ask you directly again, he had sworn he wasn't interested.

That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't try to find out information through other means—in this case, your teammates.

One time, he tried to get intel from Natasha, your best friend. She was leaving the training room, and Bucky was going in. Nat was humming something under her breath before Bucky stopped her.

Bucky knew how to ask questions, and Natasha knew how to avoid them better than anyone else. She was a former Widow and someone who had been strictly told by her best friend not to let a single hint slide.

He would just have to wait and see.

Bucky's plan was to press further and ask more people. To watch you as you moved, pay mind to your speech pattern and try to catch any hint. However, a conversation with one Steve Grant Rogers changed everything.

Bucky stood in the kitchen of the compound. He was pouring himself a glass of water, staring at the tiles on the wall as if they held all the answers in the world when Steve approached.

"What did the wall do to hurt you now?" Steve asked.

"What?" Bucky hummed, being pulled out of his trance.

"Do I want to know what's got you thinking like that?"

"It's Y/N. She's being secretive about her costume for Tony's party." Bucky was almost embarrassed about how much headspace it was occupying.

"Right," Steve, who most believed could counsel about every person ever, was struggling to find the words. "I suppose she's just trying to surprise you, pal. You have to take it easy."

Bucky scoffed, eyebrows curling in that frown of his. "I don't like not knowing. She forbade me from even looking through the left side of our closet, Steve."

"I think it's sweet."

"Sweet?" Bucky paused. "What do you mean 'sweet'?"

"If she's making that much of an effort to keep it a secret, then it must be something really important."

That lingered more than it should have. Steve was right, as he usually was. You knew Bucky had to be aware to feel grounded. He slept on the side of the bed nearest to the door, and he was always the first to walk in when you returned home late at night. He was the one who had to open the shower curtain when you took a bath, and he liked it when you called him to let him know you had gotten home safe. Knowing was a thing he had always done, for you.

If you were keeping secrets from him, then he'd best believe it was going to be the most incredible surprise he had received.

The morning of Tony's party, you asked him to leave the compound.

"Doll, I live here. We all live here. I train here. I eat here. What do you want me to do?"

"Take Alpine on a walk," you shrugged, looking at yourself in the mirror and already plotting. The bright red lipstick you had bought the day before burnt holes in your make-up bag.

"Alpine's a cat."

"I don't see the issue."

Cats walk themselves. You don't take them out."

"Just find yourself something to do, alright? Until six. Can you do that for me, Buck?"

Your pleading voice and the pout on your lips made him a weak, weak man. "Fine. I'll find something to do."

—

The rollers had been pulling your hair into tight curls for hours now. Your head was starting to hurt, and no amount of temple massages was able to fix it.

"Bucky better love this—or else I have no idea what I will do with a vintage dress and this amount of hair rollers." You sighed, pulling the nylon tights along your legs.

"He will, I'm sure." Natasha helped with your hair, carefully sliding the rollers out and combing your hair back into place. "If not, I'll make sure he regrets it."

"Thank you, Nat."

The dress you had bought was as original as they could get: padded shoulders with an A-line skirt. It felt delicate to the touch, a precious relic of a bygone era—almost like Bucky.

"I think he will positively freak out," Natasha insisted.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked every bit the vintage woman, just like those magazines you had started collecting when the idea for this costume had first come to your mind. The dress hugged you perfectly, and the lipstick was bright red.

"Ready?" Your friend asked you. You nodded in return.

—

The place was mostly empty. It was too early for there to be anyone in the compound besides the people who lived there. Bucky had returned late from a mission and had gone straight into the shower. It was better that way; more time to get ready and also more time to regret your costume.

What if Bucky thought it was too cheesy? He was—despite what most people would believe—a simple man when it came to romance. He knew he loved you, and he made sure you knew it by simply being there every day. He wasn't the one for grand gestures; he had not been for the last seventy years.

The party was mostly arranged. Since you had the afternoon off, you had volunteered to help tidy up and decorate the room. Now you stood in an empty party room with only your thoughts to accompany you.

As the sun fell, more people started to arrive. The lights inside started to brighten, and the music got louder. A beat that made you sway your head and distracted you enough to not be able to hear Bucky the first time he called out your name.

By the time he was standing right beside you, it was already too late. Feeling the imposing presence next to you, you turned around. You were met with the sight of a very surprised Bucky. His brows were raised and his lips were parted.

"Hi," you prompted, hoping to break his haze.

Your boyfriend said nothing; he just stared. Stared at your beautiful lips that he so badly wanted to kiss now. Stared at the way your hair framed your face. Stared at the way the dress hugged your body.

You laughed nervously, swaying your hands in front of you. "So… you absolutely hate it."

Bucky blinked, and it took him at least fifteen more seconds to reply. "Hate it? Why would I hate it?"

"Because it's awfully cheesy, and the more you stare at me without saying anything the more I realize how silly I was being—"

"None of that", Bucky almost cut you off. "You weren't being cheesy, sweetheart. You were just… really creative."

His warm hand cupped your cheek and pulled you closer. "You're sweet. Thank you."

"Of course," Bucky replied and pecked your lips. "Where'd you get the dress? It looks straight out of one of the dance halls I used to go to."

You smiled, proud and mildly bashful. "It's the magic of thrift stores, baby. Remind me to get you hooked on that."

Bucky laughed. His eyes had not left you for a single moment. "Was this the reason you kept hiding from me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, doll," Bucky rumbled. "Colour me surprised."

"In a good way?"

"In the best of ways."

You took Bucky's hand and stepped to the side. "Now, I know this isn't jazz, but would you dance with me, sergeant?"

Bucky shook his head and followed your lead. The things he did for you.

I really wanna expand this and add the ticket both/ food stalls as well as all the behind the scenes areas like the locker room, foyer, foxes lounge, ect. I’ve been slowly mapping out where everything is so shout out to Neil for being overly anxious and needing to map out the layout and exits of every room he walks into.