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waternilly · 2 months ago

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"Pick you up at seven?"

Fandom: MCU Ship: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (race neutral) Word count: 3.8k Genre: Fluff Warnings: none Ao3 link: here Summary: Almost two weeks after meeting Bucky, he finally asks you out to a proper date. | Sequel to "You're flustered." "Yeah, so?", but it is not necessary to have read it.

The low mumble of the radio playing in your boss' office reached your corner through the open door, the melody bouncing against the empty white walls and ceiling. You licked your lips, eyes fixed on the computer screen as your fingers typed away on the sleek keyboard. All Apple, per your companies' aesthetic.

The final dot was added to an e-mail, and after quickly reading it over, you pressed send.

"Y/N?" the familiar voice called over from the office next door.

Without answering, you stood up and grabbed a pencil and notepad, ready to scribble away if needed.

"Can you remind me of the schedule for the rest of the afternoon?" your boss asked the second you entered.

"At 3 o'clock, the board of representatives will meet you in conference room number 5. Tonight, dinner with your husband and daughter at Carl's, planned for 7 o'clock. A change of clothes for the occasion is awaiting in the closet," you recited from memory.

Your boss sighed, not looking away from the papers on their desk, but you noticed the small smile tugging at their lips.

"Very well," said they, removing the glasses from the bridge of their nose. With their free hand, they rubbed down their face. "Will you call Andrew? I'd like to have a word with him tomorrow about these offers."

Thinking back about their schedule for the upcoming day, you offered: "Would 11 o'clock suit you?"

"Yes, that would be perfect."

You quickly jotted down a few keywords on the notepad.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all. Thank you."

Returning to your desk, you could not help the way crinkles formed around your eyes at the sight of the name appearing on your phone: Bucky. A text was awaiting you. One that piqued your interest from the preview alone.

Are you free...

You hurried to make the necessary professional phone call, fighting the smile in your voice with each syllable. Once the reunion was settled with Andrew for the next day, and added to the official agenda, you crossed the keywords with a pen and a certain satisfaction. The mailbox empty, you hurriedly unlocked your phone.

You did not try to keep your heartbeat under control, staring down at the amalgam of pixels that formed the words you had anticipated:

Are you free tomorrow evening?

Your fingertips danced over the digital keys, hurriedly forming your response.

Ready to show me your best?

You laughed under your breath, anticipating his answer.

Since the professional-event-turned-party at Avengers Tower eleven days prior, messages from Bucky had been scarce but thoughtful. He would ask seemingly random questions to get to know you better, whilst also putting effort into each reply to your own. A handful of texts had consisted of warnings regarding a temporary unavailability. Typically followed many hours later by a new one, announcing he was free again.

You never knew what caused his absences, assuming Bucky would tell you when he deemed it right, if ever.

The phone screen sprung to life again and you did not wait to open the message.

Ready to be properly flustered?

You chuckled to yourself, hiding a smile behind your palm, elbow propped up on the desk.

For all certainty, you verified the agenda for the next day.

Friday: - 11:00: Meeting with Andrew - 12:30: Lunch with Mr. Gaboni and Mr. Adrian at La Tartine - 14:30: Video call about the spring updates - 16:00: Debrief in conference room 2

You were only attending the latter two. Round ups usually lasted an hour, 90 minutes at most. You would be free to go at 5:30 latest.

You can certainly try.

Was the answer you settled on, with the added information of when you would be leaving work.

The glossy white phone on the desk rang then, pulling your attention away. You recited the usual opening line as you picked up the hook. The familiar voice of your boss' husband greeted you by name, asking to speak to their partner. After briefly putting them on hold to verify your higher-up was not already occupied, the call was transferred.

By then, Bucky's reply was awaiting you.

Pick you up at 7?

The corners of your lips tugged as you typed.

Perfect.

••• ○○○ ••• ☼☼☼ ••• ○○○ •••

The bell rang at 7 o'clock sharp.

You hurried to the intercom and pressed the button that connected you to the front door of the building.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, doll."

Bucky's voice was low and soft, deteriorated by an interference but all too recognizable. A small smile grew on your lips.

"I'll meet you downstairs," you answered before cutting the signal.

Fully prepared thanks to Bucky's text informing you of the dress code, all that remained was to slip on a coat. You threw one last glance at your reflection in the mirror by the entrance, checked the presence of the keys in your bag, and exited.

Bucky met you two floors lower, hands in his pockets, back to the iron fence that served as a door. When you passed the threshold, he instantly turned to you, a smile playing on his lips.

"Good evening," he greeted once more, offering his hand.

You raised your own, accepting.

"Good evening, sir."

Heat rose to your cheeks as Bucky leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. The words you had thought of forming remained in your throat, glued to your tongue, thick as honey. You were too busy keeping your facial expressions under control, forcing your eyes back to normal instead of open wide.

Bucky chuckled when he straightened and interlaced your fingers with his.

"Don't tell me you're flustered already?"

Little shit.

You swallowed for good measure, but held your head up high as you answered: "It'll take more than that, Barnes."

He suppressed a laugh and shook his head.

After a sigh, he added: "Very well. It'll be more fun."

You took this moment to look him over. His hair was once again pulled back into a bun, albeit cleaner than the first time you had met him. He wore a dark grey suit over a black shirt, the top two buttons undone. The silver chain clung to his barely visible collarbone and you felt a ring against your palm. A black leather glove hid his metallic hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you wondered.

Bucky started walking, gently pulling you along.

"Brooklyn," he started. "There's an amusement park there I used to go to. Before the war."

You thought for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.

Tentatively, you asked: "Coney Island?"

He nodded.

"Luna Park to be exact."

"You do know it's not the same, right?"

Bucky squinted when he turned to you.

"Shame, here I thought the Witching Waves still existed."

His tone was dripping in irony and the grin pulling at the corner of his mouth only confirmed it.

"Okay, alright, I get it," you defended with a chuckle.

After a pause, you could not help but question: "Is that where you used to take your dates? Back in the day?"

You admired him intently: head down, suddenly bashful, briefly closing his eyes. Bucky rose his shoulders, shrugging.

"'t happened."

You gasped, the hand that was not laced with his rising to your chest.

"So I'm not special?" you asked, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed.

Bucky laughed. Properly laughed for the first time around you. It was loud, bright and clear, shaking his shoulders with every breath he pushed out.

"It's not funny!" you continued, pitching your voice up to make clear it was still a joke. "You're just gonna forget about me by morning!"

You could not keep the act up any longer, however. Not when Bucky met your gaze and shook his head, crinkles around his eyes.

"No, doll, not a chance," he begun. "You're very special to me."

You huffed.

"Laying on the charm thick, aren't we?" you teased, voice back to normal.

He licked his lips.

"Just a tad," he admitted. "But you're the first lady I'm taking out since I've found myself again."

The air was knocked out of your lungs. You hesitated a second before saying anything. Was he being serious? How long was that? You swallowed with difficulty and bit your lip.

"Really?"

The question was posed just above a whisper, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Bucky's head tilted to you, meeting your gaze.

"You're surprised."

Once again. Not a question.

"I am," you admitted.

He was amused. Bucky may not have flustered you with the confession, but this pleased him just as much.

The stroll from your apartment had led you to a metro station, which you were now entering, allowing Bucky to guide you to the correct platform. A breeze was flowing in from the underground tunnels.

Pulling your hand for you to face him, Bucky asked with furrowed brows: "Cold?"

You shook your head no.

His eyes scanned the screen behind you.

"3 minutes."

The station was as busy as usual for a Tuesday evening, neither overly crowded nor deserted. Some held large grocery bags, others were focused on texting back. A man talked loudly into his phone. Plenty were wearing headsets, rendering them blissfully unaware to his personal problems that were being shouted for all to hear. Something about how he didn't do it, baby girl, she misunderstood and it wasn't like that.

You suppressed a laugh, amused by the poor attempts at excuses. A knowing glance was shared with Bucky, who was also pushing down the corners of his mouth.

On the train, when you did not have to bear the yelling any longer, you spoke to Bucky: "Can I ask about your life before the war?"

He nodded.

"Only if I can ask something first though."

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

"Sure."

"When did you recognize me?"

The tone was not accusing, merely curious. You inhaled sharply.

"Towards the end of our first conversation."

"Hm." Bucky slowly acquiesced. "You didn't say anything."

"Why should I have?"

"Alright." He huffed, seemingly satisfied with your answer. "What's your question?"

"Do I only get one?"

"Obviously. Too bad you just used it."

"Ha-ha," you ironized.

He was smirking.

You shoved him back, palm pressing against his chest.

"More seriously though... what was it like?" you waved a hand to accompany your words.

Bucky paused, lips pursed and eyes lost in the distance.

"Different." He swallowed. "Pardon my french here, but I'm so fucking grateful for the progress we've made as a species since I was a kid."

"Like what?"

"Like fucking vaccines for example!"

You chuckled. That was not where your mind was headed, instead picturing more trivial topics, such as colored television.

"Can't help but think how much better Steve's life would've been had we gotten those back in the day."

Your amusement caused by the initial surprise was replaced by tenderness and endearment.

Hesitant, you nevertheless said: "I'm happy you two somehow found each other back."

"Me too, doll."

Bucky and Steve had a special connection. You realized that. One that you would most likely never share with anyone. They were best friends, yes, but it was deeper than that. They had crossed through time, both frozen -- asleep only to awaken in the 21st century. How unlikely, and yet here they both were.

"How did you meet?" you wondered aloud.

"Steve and I?" Bucky asked back, eyebrows raised.

You nodded.

The remainder of the train ride was spent in comfortable silence for you, only reacting occasionally to Bucky's childhood tales. While he did not attract any attention to yourselves, he knew how to spin a narrative, how to maintain your attention. He paused for dramatic effect whenever he saw fit, keeping you on the edge of your seat. You laughed on more than one occasion, ranging from quiet to bright and clear.

Bucky had been the most curious one by text so far. You enjoyed the role reversal, listening to him intently while he recounted what sounded like the best days of his life, all spent with his dearest friend.

Your halt was reached just as Bucky finished telling you about his and Steve's most memorable trip to Rockaway Beach -- when they had to sit in the back of a truck to get back to Brooklyn after having spent all their trip money on hot dogs.

"Here we are," Bucky announced, leading you off the train.

The sky was tinted in dark oranges and pinks when you exited the underground tunnels, welcomed back to the surface by the setting sun. What remained of the voyage was done on foot once again.

"Did you come here often?"

"Coney Island, you mean?"

You nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket to keep yourself from interlacing Bucky's fingers with your own.

"Not really, if I'm being honest. Steve and I brought a couple dates here in our twenties, but younger, our families didn't have much money," he explained. "We were four kids at home and getting all of us here was expensive. Steve's parents had other things on their mind, their son being a sickly one, and all that."

You remained quiet, pondering his words.

"Do you try to make up for certain things? Now that money isn't a concern anymore."

Bucky shrugged: "Som'times. Not all of it's worth it though. And there's other things I gotta miss out on instead."

"Like what?" you wondered, eyebrows furrowed.

"Down-time," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't have as much of it as I used to. I've gotten busy."

"You can never truly win, I guess."

"Nah, but you can make the best of what you have," he smiled. "And for what concerns me, the best way to spend my time is in your company."

You managed to fight back the smile for mere seconds, before letting it split your face across. A hand slipped back out of your coat pocket to meet his. Bucky's eyes were sparkling, looking at you as you interlaced your fingers.

Stop staring, you were tempted to say, but you held his gaze instead. Being the center of his attention made you happy; it made you feel important. You could only imagine how many people would have killed to be in your shoes in that instant, but you quickly realized how little you cared. What mattered was the man next to you, admiring you as if you were a star. The openness and sensitivity he had shown until now only served to elevate him further.

By the time you reached the entrance to Luna Park, neither of your smiles had faltered.

Bucky paid for your tickets, unbothered by the look of recognition the cashier did not even try to conceal. You almost expected him to ask for an autograph.

"You ever been here before?" he wondered as you passed the barriers.

"Nope." You accompanied your answer by shaking your head. "But I've been meaning to."

"Lucky me, I guess."

"Very lucky."

Bucky grinned your way, understanding that you were, in fact, calling him lucky for landing a date with you at all. While it was not entirely false, your confidence and busy schedule having kept you from attending many romantic rendez-vous in the past, it was still a jest. If anything, you would have called yourself the lucky one. For that matter, you may just do that, admitting it in an moment of bare honesty.

A gentle smile tugged at Bucky's lips.

"Trust me, doll. I am."

And just like that, your heart was fluttering once more. You doubted you would ever grow tired of Bucky's charm, no matter how cheeky it might become at times. You could not envision disliking being the center of this man's world; an Apollo singing your praises.

The task of choosing rides was left to you, Bucky never pulling you to one side or the other in the park. He followed you onto all of them, no matter their speed or lack thereof. Halfway through the evening, he insisted on treating to you to a snack and drink in spite of your protests.

"You know I have a job and living wage, right? You already paid for the tickets."

"I am well aware of that fact, but I am also a man from the past."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked despite the knowing look that already shaped your features.

Bucky licked his lips and chuckled, diverting his gaze briefly.

"You're impossible," he mumbled to himself. Then, turning back to you, he added: "Please, doll, let me be old fashioned just a little longer."

"Depends what you mean by that," you challenged.

"Nothing you'd disapprove of."

You sighed, understanding you'd met your match in stubbornness. Unsure what to say, your eyes stared into the ocean, dark and mysterious now that the night had fully set. Lampposts were illuminating the pier in a warm glow while stars speckled the dark canvas in the distance. It was a cloudless night.

Bucky's warm breath hit your ear, as he whispered: "All I want is to treat a beautiful woman on our first date." You turned back towards him and a shiver ran down your spine when you noticed his proximity, not having been this close since the night you'd met. The fresh scent of his cologne tingled your nostrils. "Please, pick whatever you'd like, and just this time lemme pay for it."

You swallowed and blinked fast, focusing to form a coherent sentence.

"Just this time?" you asked.

A chuckle rumbled through Bucky's chest before he answered.

"Just this time. For now."

You breathed him in one last time before turning away. Various drinks and small foods piqued your interest. Had you asked, you had no doubt Bucky would have paid for all of them, but you pushed that thought down. Instead, you settled for one of each and tried your best to not take the price into consideration. It was silly, money clearly not being a concern for Bucky, but you could not help yourself. Call it pride or education, either way, he would have to accept it.

"Are you always like that?" you wondered when you sat down on one of the benches at the pier, facing the ocean.

"Like what?" he asked, looking as if he knew exactly what you were referring to.

"So..." you hesitated. "Old fashioned."

Bucky chuckled, lowering his drink while he had been about to sip from it.

"Suppose I am," he shrugged. "Told you, I'm a man from the past."

"Yeah, quite literally," you nodded. "I sometimes forget that."

"Does it bother you?"

"Your manners?" You thought before answering. "No, I'm just not used to that."

Bucky nodded slowly.

"And my age?" he asked hesitantly.

You blinked, surprised at first. Then your brows furrowed.

"Not at all. I'd actually never thought about it."

"Is that so?"

"Just cause you've been existing for over 80 years doesn't mean that's your age."

"Not everyone agrees."

"Well they're idiots."

"Are you calling my best friend an idiot?" he joked.

"I believe I am."

A short laugh was shared and you relished in the way Bucky's eyes sparkled.

"I just... I don't see the point of counting all the years you were asleep, frozen. Sure physically speaking, you are really old."

"Gee thanks!" he laughed.

"You're welcome. But more seriously, on a mental level, you aren't a senior citizen. Except in your old fashioned ways sometimes I suppose, but that's not the same."

Bucky swallowed a bite of his own snack, listening to you.

"How do you feel about it?" you wondered.

"A mix of both. I'm not a modern-day 30 year old. I'm also not an elderly man. It's confusing at times. Don't really fit in anywhere."

You nodded in understanding.

"I've been wondering about something," you admitted. "Have you been catching up on what happened in the world?"

Bucky lowered his drink and swallowed.

"The important stuff's been covered, yeah."

"And what about... the less important? The banal?" You hesitated. "The pop culture?"

He winced, opened his mouth and closed it again.

"It's on the back-burner."

"Not interested?" you asked, brows furrowed.

"That's not it. It's just so much."

You nodded, chuckling. "Definitely."

After a pause, he wondered: "Why are you asking?"

"Just curious," you shrugged.

Bucky squinted, half a smile tugging at his lips.

"Okay, maybe I have a few recommendations," you admitted, avoiding his gaze.

"Really?" he mocked surprise. "Well why don't you show me a few things on our next date?"

You paused, eyes wide.

"Are you serious?"

Bucky nodded.

"If you'd like that, of course."

It was your turn to shake your head, excited by the prospect of a second date with this man.

"I've been having a great time with you tonight. I'd love to do it again."

"The pleasure would be mine, doll."

Your gazes locked.

At first out of pride, playing this as a game, you did not want to look away. Then you realized just how comfortable you felt. Bucky's eyes were warm, gentle, young yet reflective of everything he had lived through. For a second only, they flicked down, to your lips.

You could not help yourself, stealing a glance at his own. They were slightly parted, pink and inviting. Your heart rattled inside its cage at the prospect of closing the gap, leaning in closer.

His warm breath fanned over your skin, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You shivered, both nervous and excited.

However, your reverie was interrupted when Bucky cleared his throat. All of a sudden, you realized how cold it had gotten since the sun had sunk under the horizon. Even more so now that a breeze flew through your hair.

"I should get you home," Bucky said seriously, still maintaining your gaze.

You nodded. "Alright."

For the way back, a taxi was halted and guided to your apartment. The ride was quiet as you held hands on the backseat, creases around your eyes. When the car stopped in front of your building, Bucky stepped out with you and let the driver go.

Standing face to face, you thanked him for the evening.

"It was an honor," Bucky answered.

You chuckled.

"I hope to see you again very soon," he added.

"I'd love that."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Bucky held up your hand again and bent down to press a kiss onto your knuckle. Despite the déjà-vu, your heart fluttered nonetheless.

"Have a wonderful night."

"You too, Bucky."

"Trust me, I will. You'll haunt my dreams. I couldn't wish for anything better."

A wide smile split your face and you could not help yourself any longer. You walked closer to the man in front of you and pulled him down by the shoulder. Hoping to leave some sort of mark, you kissed his cheek, your free hand cradling the other side of his face.

When you pulled away, you whispered: "Goodnight, Bucky. Sweet dreams."

It was only once you'd passed the metal front door that you heard the soldier reply under his breath.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

#bucky would love hozier bc he'd relate to his way of writing about women bc that's exactly how he sees the reader #bucky barnes #mcu #mcu imagines #mcu scenarios #mcu x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes scenarios #bucky barnes imagines #mcu fluff #female reader #nille writes #race neutral reader

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