Chapter Text
Tony was out of his mind.
Unequivocally.
There was no other option. The prospect that his suggestion was one made when he was of sound mind? It was beyond comprehension. Beyond reason.
And that was saying something, considering you lived in a world where aliens came out of holes in the sky and enhanced individuals – yourself included – spent their days trying to save the world from threats both of this planet, and not.
Admittedly it had been a wild few years since the attack on New York, in the before days. Before a hole opened in the sky, before a God from another world used your home as a battleground, before otherworldly horrors poured out of said hole as people died in the streets, fodder to a war no one was prepared for.
Your life as a college student had been disrupted in a flash – a literal one. One minute you were rushing to class, late as usual after sleeping in. The next you were racing for safety along with the rest of the city until a hunk of alien ship was hitting the ground in front of you, a bright blue light washing over the street, your hands shooting up in a furtive attempt to protect your eyes from just how bright it was. After that, nothing. Not until you woke up, the beeping of the vitals monitor so damn loud (a hell of a lot louder than it should have been) that you’d wished it would just stop. And miraculously, a nurse had walked in and turned off the grating sound.
You didn’t know how you knew exactly, but you were positive it hadn’t actually been a miracle – you’d done it. Testing the theory while you’d been in the hospital recovering, you started thinking about wanting things (like an extra blanket), marvelling when they happened (like a volunteer walking in, blanket in hand). And you heard so much, all the time. The monitor that had been unreasonably loud or the clicking of the nurse’s shoes from the end of the hallway, shuffling papers as she went. Somehow, coming in contact with that flash of light had enhanced you, and despite being nervous, you’d been more excited than anything. You were going to be a superhero. It was so damn cool.
It had taken exactly four days after you’d been discharged from the hospital for Tony to find you. To identify the signature of your powers and dispatch one of his suits to your dorm. You’d needed no convincing, perched on the edge of your bed with your suitcase packed and ready to go.
Reluctant hero? Not you. Finally you were going to be … more.
And it had been going so well, your introduction to the team pretty seamless. Nat had taken you under her wing against what she affectionately called ‘The Boys Club’ – even if she was obviously close with all of them. Steve had been willing to train you in the gym most mornings, Bruce never complained when you hovered in the lab, and Clint had taken you out for target practice with a bow a few times, even if you weren’t very good. Well, he’d used the word terrible, but whenever he was at the Compound he was willing to teach you. A few of the others – like Thor and Rhodey – you didn’t see much, but it was always fun when they were around. Tony was, well he was kind of a dick, actually. You got that it was his thing though, and mostly steered clear of him when you could.
Overall, it was everything you could have hoped it would be. The team accepted you, the public liked you (you’d even seen people wearing your face on a t-shirt!), and you finally felt like everything was going right.
And then on a mission, Steve found out his childhood best friend Bucky was still alive. Sam got roped into the team and the subsequent Find Bucky campaign Steve was on, then the mission in Sokovia went to shit, Bruce went missing, Vision and Wanda got added to the team, and suddenly things were changing so fast you could barely keep up. Though your immediate and close friendship with Wanda was something you absolutely treasured, the highlight of that living nightmare.
But Bucky … Bucky had still been missing. On a few late nights in the weeks after the first Bucky sighting, Steve had come to your room, stressed that the search wasn’t progressing as fast as he’d like. You’d assured him that no one could stay hidden forever, and that the team would find him and get him the help he needed.
One early morning while Steve had been showing you some self defence moves, Sam burst through the doors of the Compound’s gym, heaving and panting and rushing out unintelligible words. Steve had calmed him, Sam managing to choke out “I found him” – words that sent the team into a frenzy.
Less than 48 hours later, James Buchanan Barnes was in the Compound, looking like a stray puppy that had gone feral and would bite if anyone got too close.
You had eyes, so you could see that he was obviously good looking. But he was also obviously fucked up. Those first few days it was evident his memory was in shambles, though when you’d talked with Steve about him recently, he’d said he mostly had it together. Still, Bucky never seemed truly comfortable, going from fidgeting one minute to sitting so still he didn’t even look like he was breathing the next, and if you – or anyone other than Steve – entered a room he was in, he quickly found somewhere else to be. He’d been at the Compound for nearly a month now and you’d never exchanged a word with him.
(Other than that one time you’d said hi and he practically ran away from you, but honestly it was so horrifyingly embarrassing you’d prefer to pretend that never actually happened).
Annoyingly, it seemed to take no time at all for the fucking media to get wind that the Avengers had caught the Winter Soldier, and all hell broke loose. Politicians started using him as a campaign platform, calling for his death or at least severe prison sentences. Life on The Raft. Tony and Steve spent an absurd amount of time in meetings every day since finding him, fighting for Bucky’s freedom.
It … wasn’t going well.
They didn’t have to tell you. It was clear as day on their faces, on the tight set of their shoulders. The public didn’t trust him to not go on a murder spree, and trust wasn’t something that could be forced (or bought, much to Tony’s frustration). But if they didn’t come up with a way to gain that trust, Bucky might end up a prisoner on The Raft. Or executed.
Which brought you to right now, sitting in the Conference Room at the lacquered wood table shining immaculately between you and Tony.
“I think I must have had a stroke,” you muttered, dragging a hand down your face. “Or I’m hallucinating. Only explanation.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tony huffed, leaning forward until his forearms were resting on the table. “It’s just needed until we can sway public opinion.”
“Tony,” you started, but he cut you off.
“I get it, what I’m asking you is insane. But I can’t face Rogers one more time and not have a damn plan to do something. Anything.”
And it was the desperation in his tone that made you pause. Tony could see it too, pouncing on it.
“It would be a marriage on paper only,” he pleaded, the word marriage causing a bead of sweat to roll down your spine. “A handful of public appearances at parties. An engagement tour and wedding. I’ll spin the tale of your epic love and his miraculous recovery. The public needs a success story to get behind, to make him seem less … murdery. More family friendly. All the projections I’ve run see this as the best way to success.”
You sighed, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. “What does Bucky think about this?”
“I came to you first,” he admitted, lifting his hand to bring up a holoscreen. “No point getting their hopes up if you say no.”
Great. No pressure or anything.
“Why not Nat?”
Tony barked out a dry laugh. “After the stunt she pulled on Capitol Hill? She’s not exactly in the good graces of … any politicians. And public opinion on her is split. Some praise her for leaving behind her former life and joining the team, fighting for what’s right. Others are caught up in what was released when she blasted out Hydra’s secrets, and her own. Based on my projections, there’s a pretty high chance a marriage between them will be seen as foreign government collusion and a threat to national security. You however? People love you. Your approval ratings are higher than all of ours – except for golden boy Rogers of course. But it’s damn close, and it means that anyone who is tied to you will have increased approval ratings by association. Look at Wanda. You accepted her, befriended her, and public perception of her is remarkably high considering her background. All data indicates that it’s your influence.”
Tony flipped through a few holoscreens while you reeled over this information, everything responding to him so fast it seemed more like the tech was tuned into his thoughts than his movements. You knew that you were liked well enough – but to learn it was almost as much as Captain America, who’d been keeping this country safe since the forties? It didn’t feel real.
“Here,” he said, turning a screen to face you. On it were charts and graphs and reports you could barely read before more populated.
“Tony I’m gonna need this is Layman’s terms,” you muttered, squinting at the screen as though that would make you understand it.
He paused his perusing, explaining everything. The projections, the analytics, the stats. It was all laid out plain as day.
As long as he remained an upstanding citizen, getting married to you would be enough to prevent Bucky from being locked up.
“Can’t we just say we got married? Why does there have to be paperwork at all?”
Tony of course had an answer for that, pulling up more projections. “If the public finds out it’s a publicity stunt, any credibility of his disappears, but so does yours. In fact, your ratings would drop nearly below his. This is problematic for a lot of reasons, but mostly … I can’t have someone come out on missions with ratings that low. It’d be dangerous, and any mistake you make will have catastrophic consequences. There are two options here. Legally marry Bucky, making a public show of your relationship, or forget I mentioned any of this. But there isn’t an in between.”
You wished Wanda and Nat were here. Their advice always helped you figure out what to do when you were undecided. Though, you could almost hear Wanda’s laugh ringing in your ears, see her soft smile as she tilted her head with a knowing look and an endearing crinkle to her nose. Why ask me for advice when you already know what you are going to do?
Fake Wanda was right. And even though the plan was crazy – insane – you wouldn’t let Steve lose his best friend again. Wouldn’t let Bucky get sent to The Raft when the crimes he’d committed weren’t even his fault.
With a resigned sigh, you spoke the words that were possibly the biggest mistake of your life. “Fine, Tony. I’ll marry Bucky.”
-
Nat and Wanda were just staring at you, mouths agape. It was rare to render either of them speechless, but both of them at once had to be a first.
Likely, in another part of the Compound, a similar conversation was happening between Tony, Steve and Bucky. Maybe Sam too. You idly wondered what their reactions were.
Nat sat down on the edge of your bed, as though her legs couldn’t support her under the weight of this new information.
“It’s not a real marriage or anything, it’s just to keep him out of prison,” you explained as Wanda lifted her shirt, pinching her exposed stomach like she was trying to wake herself from a dream. She wasn’t holding it together nearly as well as Fake Wanda had in your imagination.
“This has Tony’s particular breed of insanity written all over it. What the actual hell is he thinking?” Nat demanded, jumping up from the bed and beginning to pace. You tried not to laugh as her pacing devolved into her having to navigate around piles of clothes and random crap on your floor. “How can he think forcing you to marry Bucky is appropriate?”
“Woah, I’m not being forced. He made a good argument. I agreed. Simple as that.”
Nat rolled her eyes. “Of course he made a good argument. It’s Tony. He could make a good argument for global nuclear war, with his precious projections to prove it.”
“Well, I hardly think a fake marriage is as bad as nuclear war,” you teased, needing them to get on board with this. They were your two closest friends - you needed them to support you in this or you’d crack under the pressure of what was being asked of you. “Plus, it’s not like I can be in a real relationship anyways.”
Wanda and Nat both grimaced, but they knew it was true. You wouldn’t ever let yourself develop romantic feelings for someone. Your abilities didn’t seem to have much … finesse. If you wanted something, it happened. It had to be directed at someone (or something that could be controlled by someone), but you could just wish that someone would hand you the last slice of pizza, and they would. You simply had to think it, even if it was just an errant thought, and it took away their choices. And that part of your powers you truly hated. Especially because you didn’t know how it would work in a relationship. Love was unpredictable, and the last thing you wanted was for it to be powerful enough to trick someone into thinking they felt something for you that they didn’t. So you’d sworn off romantic relationships entirely. It was the safest option. It was the only option.
Wanda ran her fingers through her red hair, toying with the soft ends. “What about the power dampener Tony gave you?”
You rubbed the spot on the back of your neck where Tony had injected the small, rice sized implant – not that you could feel it. “It dulls my ability to influence people, and yeah it helps me think that you guys are actually my friends, but love is … strong. I just don’t trust it.” You were thankful when she let it go, her shoulders dropping. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation with them, but it was the first time since the potential of a romantic partner was more than just a hypothetical.
Nat took on the change in topic. “What did Bucky say?”
At this you shrugged. “He’s being told now, I guess. He doesn’t really … have many options. I mean … It’s this or The Raft. Or one of the more extreme politicians getting their way and Bucky is given a death sentence. I have to imagine marrying me is better than both those options.”
This seemed to ramp up the tension, Nat wandering over to you and resting a hand on your shoulder, her eyes meeting yours. “It’s a selfless thing you’re doing, but I want to make sure you understand the ramifications of this. I’m sure Tony has a plan for your eventual divorce that will happen at the optimal time to ensure Bucky’s freedom and blah blah blah, but for as long as you’re married to him … no other relationships – real ones, at least not publicly. I know you say you don’t want that, but that’s because you haven’t fallen in love yet. It would be a mess if you were caught in an affair, for lack of a better word. And this is your first marriage – your first wedding. You don’t get that back again, when you marry for love. If you marry for love,” she corrected, seeing the protest forming on your lips. “This will always be your first wedding. And I’m sure the wedding will need to be public to fit Tony’s plans, as will other parts of your relationship. It’s not like you’ll need to have sex, but you and Bucky will need to be physical together. Kissing, holding hands, casual touches that a couple would do. This doesn’t work if you act the way you do now – not even exchanging words when forced to be in the same room together. And that’s not on you – Bucky is like that with all of us. But from now on, if you go through with this, he can’t be like that with you. Are you ready for all that?”
“Yes?” You squeaked out, scratching at a burning itch in your neck. Was it always so hot in your bedroom?
Wanda sighed, coming to stand beside you, resting her hand on your other shoulder so they were both facing you.
“We will support you through this,” she said, sounding more like the Fake Wanda you had imagined. “It’s going to be a big adjustment, but you’ve got two best friends who will be your co-maids of honour. We will help you. You’re not alone.”
Her words eased the burning that had been creeping up your neck, though it hadn’t dissipated entirely. Not when the next conversation you needed to have was with Bucky.
The smile you gave them only wobbled slightly. “I guess we have a wedding to plan.”
The answering gleam in Wanda’s eye had you swallowing nervously.
-
Bucky was pacing in his bedroom. You could hear it from the hallway. One of the benefits of your enhancement – or a downside, depending on how you looked at it – was heightened hearing. It allowed you to listen to things you shouldn’t, even as you tried to give people as much privacy as you could, usually in the form of some epic disassociating. Unfortunately Tony’s implant had almost no effect on your hearing. Though you didn’t feel that way as you walked up to Bucky’s room. You focused in on the conversation, wanting, no needing, to know how he was truly feeling about this.
Buck, you’re low on options.
I know I’m low on options.
Don’t take that tone with me, I’m trying to help.
I know, Steve I’m sorry. This is just …
Insane?
Terrifying. I’m not … how am I supposed to do this?
Tony has it all planned out, you’d just need to follow his lead.
And she… she’s ok with this?
Tony talked to her first so she could decide on her own.
What kind of person agrees to this?
Don’t. You don’t know anyone here – and don’t argue with me, you haven’t spoken to anyone in the weeks you’ve been here. But she’s … she’s pretty damn awesome. You’d like her if you gave her a chance. I adore her. I’m closest to her out of anyone here, other than you.
How can I like someone who is being forced into my life? Haven’t I … hasn’t it been enough …
Buck, hey, I’m sorry …
You shook your head, focusing on the sounds of air rushing through the vents, Wanda banging pots and pans in the kitchen, the perpetual hum of machines in Tony’s lab. Anything to stop from hearing more of what was happening in that room. Bucky always seemed so stoic, so hardened. It chopped at your heart a bit, to hear him suffering so thoroughly. It was clear as day in his voice, the pain laced in every word.
For only a moment you debated slipping away entirely, calling the whole thing off, but despite what Bucky had said, you wouldn’t trap him, in anything. Other than public appearances, you’d leave him be, allow him the freedoms he needed, deserved. What you were offering was better than The Raft. You knew that, and it’s what had your fist raising to knock on his door.
Shuffling came from inside before Steve pulled it open, a smile on his face that softened as he took you in. “You’re my favourite person right now,” he said, tugging you into a rib crushing hug that you returned earnestly, absorbing some of his permanent warmth.
He stepped back after a second, pulling the door open wider to let you in. Bucky was standing awkwardly in the centre of the room, as though this weren’t his bedroom, and he was uncomfortable in the space.
“Hey,” you said stupidly, adding onto your stupidity by giving him a little wave. Heat rose to your cheeks. Idiot.
Bucky’s shoulders were tense. His arms crossed, fists clenched. “Hey.”
Steve just chuckled, moving to stand beside Bucky and clamping a hand on his shoulder. “So, this is a first. My two best friends are getting fake married.”
It seemed to take some of the tension from the room, but not all of it. You chuckled, shaking your head. “Certainly not how I thought my day was going to go.”
Steve grinned. “Tony has a way of making things interesting, that’s for sure.”
Bucky’s attention was on the floor, his shoulder length hair tucked behind one ear, the rest swinging forward to shield part of his face.
“Steve, do you mind if I talk to Bucky for a minute?” You asked, thankful your voice sounded steadier than you felt.
“Yeah, sure, of course. Buck, I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that he strode from the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Alone with Bucky, without Steve’s easy-going energy … well it was more than a little awkward.
“So,” you started, right as Bucky said, “thanks.”
You both stopped, an awkward laugh rasping out of you. “Go first,” you said, gesturing for him to continue.
“I was just … thank you. For doing this.”
“You’re welcome,” you said, crossing your arms just for something to do. After another beat of silence, you let out a small sigh. “I came to talk to you because I know this is more or less being forced on you. I’m sorry about that, I truly am. I wish there was another option, for you. But apart from public appearances, I don’t have any expectations or anything. And, I hope we can be friends. Or friendly. I’m sure this isn’t what you would have chosen for yourself. Exchanging one type of … imprisonment for another. I won’t make it harder.”
Bucky’s shoulders dropped infinitesimally. Barely noticeable, but you saw it happen. He nodded in acknowledgment, and you figured that was the most you would get out of him.
“Right, ok. I’ll see you around.” Turning on a heel, you practically fled the room, a pit forming in your stomach. Despite thanking you, he’d barely looked up from the floor, barely even looked at you.
His hatred for this plan was so obvious, you didn’t know how you were going to convince the world that you two loved each other, let alone tolerated each other. He had sounded sincere, but his reluctance was barely concealed. No amount of positive approval ratings could be a replacement for chemistry, and as it stood, convincing people you even knew each other was going to be a challenge.
With that depressing thought, you headed to the kitchen, where Wanda and Tony were likely already fighting over wedding plans and Steve was no doubt eating an atrocious amount of food.
-
“I’ve got your first public appearance tomorrow,” Tony said, pulling up a holoscreen in the Conference Room where you and Bucky were sitting at opposite sides of the massive table.
There was a glaringly obvious metaphor in there somewhere.
In the three days since you’d agreed to marry Bucky, you’d (foolishly) assumed he’d seek you out, talk to you, anything really to acknowledge this. But things had stayed the same, and it was making the seed of doubt that lived in the pit of your belly start to grow. Even now, Bucky was sitting as far as he could from you – something he’d chosen, since he’d arrived after you – and hadn’t yet looked at you.
“For your first public appearance, no ring, not talk of engagement or even being in a relationship. It’s too soon and the shock factor won’t work to our advantage. We’ll ease them into the idea first, get them speculating, then confirm the rumours. The speculation is key here, it’s when we can get the press talking about how good looking you both are, how hot of a couple you’d be. We need people to root for your relationship so they can get excited when it’s confirmed. I believe the kids call it shipping.”
You suppressed a groan at how out of touch he was, but Tony didn’t skip a beat, continuing on without noticing Bucky shifting uncomfortably. The reality of this was clearly catching up to him. And maybe a little for you, too.
“All contact on the date needs to seem accidental,” Tony was saying, having barely paused for breath. “The key in this first outing is to let the public think they’ve caught you. An incidental brushing of hands, coy looks. That kind of thing. But nothing further. We want speculation, not confirmation. Got it?”
You and Bucky both nodded that you understood.
And you did. You had this.
-
The next day, you were still in your fancy clothes, itching to get changed into something more comfortable, but not daring to move as Tony paced in front of you and Bucky, steam practically shooting out of his ears.
The date had gone … terribly.
In that, nothing had happened. Tony had arranged for you and Bucky to visit a small gallery for its launch of a new art collection, inspired around the events of the attack on New York. It was also a fundraiser to benefit the victims and families of the attack. The pieces were stunning, and you had walked the gallery in awe. Bucky had remained two paces behind you, sometimes more, no matter what speed you walked. There was no contact, no indication you were even together. He’d blended into the shadows. Might as well have not even been there.
It had taken an hour to get back to the Compound from the gallery, and in that time, Tony had been able to gather that no media were speculating on a potential relationship. At all.
“The only thing I found were complimentary articles on how wonderful you are,” he said, casting a look your direction. “The golden Avenger, supporting the community and local artists.”
“I liked the piece,” you defended, the painting you’d bought being wrapped up by the gallery so they could ship it to you. With how angry he was, you decided not to mention that you’d billed it all to his account, plus a substantial extra donation.
Tony threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t care if the world thinks you like art, I need them to think you like Bucky!”
Tony was at risk of popping a blood vessel, his hand absently running along the arc reactor in his chest that you could see outlined through his shirt.
“Just … do better next time.” With that he stomped away, leaving you and Bucky to stand there like chastised kids.
You turned to talk to Bucky, but he was already taking off in the opposite direction of Tony. With both of them gone you stood there alone, feeling like an idiot. This plan couldn’t fail, but you didn’t know how to make it work when Bucky wanted no part of this.
It was too early to sleep, so you headed for the kitchen, finding Wanda humming under her breath while she ladled batter into muffin trays.
“How was date night?” She asked wryly, her focus on not spilling any of the mix on the counter.
You groaned, sliding onto one of the kitchen stools. “Tony just finished chewing us out for not sticking to the plan, so clearly it went well.”
She chuckled, taking the now full trays and loading them in the oven. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” you admitted. “That’s the problem. He wouldn’t go near me.”
Wanda leaned a hip on the counter, tapping her mouth thoughtfully with the tip of her finger. “What did he say when you talked before the date?”
“We didn’t,” you said, tracing a vein along the marbling of the counter. “I tried to talk to him once, but he didn’t answer the door. So I just assumed he would follow Tony’s directives the way I did.”
She sighed, coming to stand beside you, nudging your shoulder with her own. “Talk to him. He’s going to be your husband. Fake or not, this is something communication can fix.”
“I just said I tried,” you grumbled, scratching at your neck.
“Stop fidgeting,” she admonished, pulling your hands into hers. “This is a really weird situation that will not be made better by a lack of talking to each other.”
“I know, you’re right. You always are.”
She smiled at that, patting you on the hand before going back to her mixing bowls to start on the next batch of whatever delicious thing she was baking. The boys had insatiable appetites, and Wanda took it as her personal missive to keep them all fed.
You grabbed a fresh muffin that was still too hot, bouncing it between your fingers while peeling the wrapper. “Do you think Steve is giving Bucky a similar pep talk?”
Wanda chuckled, sprinkling a bag of chocolate chips into a bowl. “I certainly hope so.”
You did too.
-
Sleep wasn’t going to come easy. You’d tossed and turned for hours before giving up. Climbing out of bed, you went to your desk, papers and knickknacks cluttering the space. You pushed them aside, pulling forward your laptop and turning it on, letting the machine hum to life.
For a while you checked news sites, seeing if there had been any additional coverage from the gallery. But other than the articles Tony had mentioned about you supporting the fundraiser and local art, nothing. Photos had been snapped of you – smiling, talking to the artist, mingling with people. Not a single photo of Bucky, anywhere. Not even in the background. He was certainly skilled at avoiding cameras.
You were leaning close to your screen trying to catch even a glimpse of his dark hair when a soft knock sounded at your door, startling you enough that you shut the laptop quickly before rushing to answer. In your haste you hadn’t clued in that you were still barefoot and in your sleep clothes, which tonight consisted of loose shorts and a tank top that did little to hide anything – including the fact you weren’t wearing a bra.
It was too late though as you swung the door open to reveal Bucky standing on the other side, his hand squeezing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Hey,” you whispered, crossing your arms over your chest to try and obscure the outline of your breasts.
“Hey,” he murmured, his eyes still glued to the floor. “Can I, uh. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, yeah of course,” you said, stepping back to let him in, casting an eye about your mess of a room.
You’d seen the inside of his recently, and knew it was pristine, bordering on sterile. The opposite of yours. Like a bomb went off in here, Nat always said. But it was too late now to do anything about it, so you just pretended like it wasn’t a disaster. Which was made harder by Bucky’s slow perusal, his eyes taking in every detail.
Clearing your throat to pull his attention away from a pile of clothes that probably had underwear visible in the fray, you sat at your desk chair, motioning he should sit at the plush chair a few feet away. He did, slowly sinking into the seat.
“I’m sorry, about tonight,” he said, fiddling with a loose thread on his pants. It was then you really took him in. He was fully dressed – black pants, leather boots, one of his tight black workout shirts, and of course his dog tags resting overtop. It made you feel even more underdressed.
“It’s ok,” you said, glad you’d closed the computer screen before he’d come in.
“It’s not. You … you’re giving up a lot and I couldn’t even stand beside you.” He was wringing his hands together, shoulders hunched, and you hated all this guilt he clearly felt. Hated this position you were in. Hated that Bucky was losing any freedom he thought he would get when Steve found him by being forced to marry you.
“We’ll figure it out. It’s safe to say neither of us are experts on fake dating. At least I’m not,” you teased, trying to bring some levity to the conversation.
“I’m not an expert on any dating,” he said, ignoring your teasing and going straight to the point. “I was, before. But not now. Not in a long time.”
Oh. Right.
You really, really should have thought of that. For the past seventy years, Bucky had been under Hydra’s control, going from mission to cryofreeze over and over again. When would he have had time to be intimate with someone? The answer that he was telling you, was never. You weren’t the most experienced person in the world, but you’d gone on some dates, even casually dated a few people here and there. Before the attack on New York. But even though it had been years ago, it was all infinitely more recent than Bucky’s experiences, which shed light on his behaviour tonight, everything making a hell of a lot more sense.
“We could practice,” you said, the thought barely forming in your head before you blurted it out. Bucky’s head snapped up, making full, prolonged eye contact with you for the first time, well, ever. Heat rushed up your face as you realized the implications of your words. “I mean – just the being comfortable around each other part. Doing things together. Basic things. Like Tony wanted. Hand holding and stuff.”
“You want to practice holding my hand?” The way he said it made you feel silly for even offering, but then he shook his head with a small smile. “Twenty year old me would absolutely kick my ass if he heard this.”
“Tell me about that Bucky,” you said, tucking your feet up on the chair so you could block your chest with your legs while resting your chin on your knees.
“Trouble,” Bucky answered, his posture relaxing. “A ladies man. Nothing serious, but I was thoroughly enjoying my youth. I had a great family, and Stevie to get into trouble with. It was a good life.”
And you could picture it – fairly easily, since Steve had shown you any existing photos, records, and documents of Bucky from that time. It felt surreal, Bucky going from a two dimensional friend of Steve’s who only existed on paper, to a person sitting here, in your room, having a conversation with you.
“Maybe you can channel some of that inner ladies’ man for our public non-dates,” you suggested.
Bucky frowned, only slightly before he wiped the expression away. “That was … a very long time ago. I’m not sure I remember how to be that guy.”
“Well,” you said, drumming your fingers on your ankles, “if this were the 1940s, how would you have asked a girl out?”
A roguish grin turned up the corners of Bucky’s mouth, and your breath caught in your throat. You’d acknowledged before that he was an attractive man, but the way his entire face transformed with that smile had your heart beating a little faster. He was devastatingly good looking, and you had no doubt dates came by easily for him back then.
“I’d probably call you a cheesy pet name and ask you to the ice cream parlour to share a sundae, and then take you on a walk to the park after.”
And with that smile? Those eyes? You couldn’t imagine a single person saying no to that offer.
“So let’s do that,” you said. “Tony can make all the plans he wants, but let’s do something you know. Something low pressure. We’ll still do what he wants so he doesn’t have an aneurism, but we can also do this our way.”
“Our way,” he repeated, as though the words were foreign. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” you confirmed, already feeling nerves fluttering your stomach.
Bucky eyed the clock on your wall, exhaling a puff of air as he registered the time. “Sorry I came here so late.”
“It’s ok – I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted.
Something unreadable passed over his features, gone in the span of time it took him to stand up. He opened his mouth as though he would say something, instead shaking his head, just the slightest movement.
With that he breezed out of your room, the door clicking so softly behind him you barely heard it.
-
“Wanda I need help,” you groaned, throwing item after item out of your closet. “I have nothing to wear.”
She giggled from where she was sprawled on your bed, pulling out her phone and shooting off a text.
“What did you just do?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at her.
She batted her eyelashes with false innocence. “Nothing.”
Nothing turned out to be Nat, who arrived minutes later with several outfit options and a veritable crate of makeup.
“I heard you’re in dire need of my services,” she said, plunking the items down on the chair where Bucky had sat last night.
“Desperately,” Wanda said, ducking as you tossed a shoe at her.
Nat eyed you – still in last night’s sleep clothes – and shook her head. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Ice cream, a walk in the park.”
“That is so…” Nat struggled to find the words as she sorted through the clothes she’d brought.
“Old school romantic,” Wanda filled in, sighing dreamily.
“It’s the type of date he would have gone on back in the 40s,” you said. “Tony’s plan involves setting us up on these staged dates in places Bucky isn’t comfortable and the first one clearly did not work. I need to meet him where he’s at, or this plan is over before it starts.”
Wanda sighed again and this time you didn’t let it slide, pointing a finger at her. “And enough of that. This is a fake relationship. You are forbidden from making this something it’s not.”
Nat cut off Wanda’s protest, dumping a pile of fabric into your arms and shoving you into your closet. “Change,” she ordered, stepping back to give you an ounce of privacy.
“Bossy,” you grumbled, but did as she asked, shedding the sleep clothes and putting on the outfit she’d brought. It was a warm summer day, and most of this date was going to be outdoors, so you were thankful Nat had considered that with the outfit she put you in.
Emerging from the closet, Wanda went right back to her dreamy sighs as you did a little spin, the skirt flowing softly around your ankles, the soft blush colour complimenting the white lace top beautifully.
“Classy, and timeless,” Nat said, eyeing you up and down. “Now we’ll fix that rat’s nest you call hair and beat some life into your face. Did you even sleep last night?”
“Yes,” you groaned defensively, following her to the bathroom. The truth was you hadn’t. Not at all. You were nervous for this date, a far cry from the first one. Maybe because you’d actually had a conversation with him now, and this was your idea. If it failed, you couldn’t blame it on Tony.
Nat fussed and mussed and spent way too long getting you ready, your hand finally smacking hers away before she could do anything else. “I probably look like a clown.”
Nat chuckled. “You look gorgeous, now go knock him out.”
You wanted to argue – because that was definitely not how the phrase went – but Wanda popped her head in the bathroom, another sigh before saying Bucky was at the door.
Nat turned you towards the mirror, smiling as your jaw dropped, taking in your reflection. Despite how long she’d spent on your makeup, you didn’t look overdone. More like a fancier version of yourself. She kissed you on the cheek, swatting at your ass to send you running to the door with a laugh.
The laugh died in your throat at the sight of Bucky standing there, in soft, cream-coloured slacks and a light blue button up shirt, his hair tied back in a low bun. He’d worn a leather jacket and dark jeans to the gallery, which was pretty common for his non-workout clothes. This … you’d never seen him dressed like this.
He seemed to be having trouble swallowing, and you couldn’t help the surge of relief that you felt at him being nervous for this, too. “Ready to go?” You asked, grabbing your purse off the back of your chair and sliding on a pair of flats.
“Yeah, I, uh. Yeah.” He followed up his adorable stumble by offering you his arm.
It was such an old-fashioned gesture you didn’t have it in you to do anything but wrap your hand around his bicep, letting him lead you from your room, Nat and Wanda surely exchanging knowing looks behind your back. Busybodies.
Bucky led you to the hangar, grabbing the keys for the tinted Audi. You stopped him, pointing to the keys for the shiny red Corvette instead. It was a newer addition to Tony’s collection, a convertible with the windows not yet tinted.
“The point is to be seen together,” you said, Bucky nodding as he swapped the keys.
Plus, you secretly wanted to ride in that car anyways, even if you were not quite brave enough yet to drive it yourself.
Like a true gentleman, Bucky opened the passenger side door for you, waiting until you’d tucked the skirt safely inside the car before shutting it. He rubbed absently at the spot on his arm your hand had held, and you worried he was uncomfortable with the contact of your skin on his – even through the barrier of his shirt – as he got in the driver’s seat. Within moments he’d started the car, revving the engine a few times, the rumble of it humming to life rolling through you.
He slid a pair of sunglasses on as you did the same, thankful for the momentary distraction. Though … Bucky with sunglasses on had you swallowing hard, resisting the urge to fan yourself dramatically.
It wasn’t something you allowed yourself to spend any more time thinking about as Bucky threw the car in drive and took off down the dirt road leading away from the Compound.
And if your heart fluttered a bit in your chest, well you could obviously blame that on the thrill of the wind in your hair as the Corvette flew onto the highway, whizzing past the other cars with skilled ease.
Right.