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whitewolfbumble · 6 years

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A Year of Firsts - Part One (Bucky x Reader, Request)

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be a year of firsts, but then you met Bucky and everything started to fall into place.

Request: Can you do a Bucky x Reader college AU?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None! Just pure, cotton candy fluff here!

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Thank you for the request darling! I wrote out a full fic with Bucky and the reader in college but it got dark and I didn’t love it. Maybe it will see the light of day sometime but not yet. This one is less college-y (a lot less... like very much so… I do apologize) and so much fluffier. We get some Soft Bucko trying to re-enter the world post-Hydra, because I needed some healing cuteness in my life!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST

Your first conversation:

Working part-time while being in school full-time was a balancing act to be sure. And yeah, maybe you weren’t just out of high school anymore and taking on such a cost and time commitment was going to be insanely hard, but you were determined to do it. It was now or never and you had promised yourself you weren’t going to hold back anymore.

You had thought last year that getting into your first year of business school would be just a complete year of firsts and a massive life change. Well, it was nothing compared to your second year and it all started with one particular customer.

You had seen him about six times now, always sitting in the far corner facing out to the rest of the restaurant. His back was always to the wall and looked as though he wished to slink back into the shadows completely. But to be honest he was impossible not to notice coming in anyways, his frame and size just about making you drop your tray of linguini the first time he zoomed passed you exiting the kitchen.

Your little Italian restaurant (well, in the year since working here you had come to think it as yours and not merely a part-time job) was on a small New York side street, soft white string lights illuminating the always unused patio and red checkered tablecloths inside. The place was dotted with little candles, the warmth in the flames combined with the rich wood floors and exposed brick walls with delicate homey touches to create a beautifully intimate space.

It was never busy, never chaotic, never changing. Kinda just how you liked it.

Your regulars filtered in and out, talking amiably to you. All but the new guy that had been coming out recently. You guessed he was considered a regular now and when you had a moment to pause and watch him, you tried to work him out.

And try as you might, you could never figure out who the hell he was meeting here or why, with a different person as his dinner companion every single time.

One time it was a tall gentleman he met with, bookish and looking like a kind of professor. Another time a woman, pretty but much too old for him. Then someone much too young. They were all shapes and sizes and genders and types. No pattern, no rhyme, no reason.

It was so confusing.

He was a quiet kind of person, non-fussy, and left a great tip too. He kept whatever conversation he was having low and generally unheard by you. And you left him alone as much as you could (since it was clear that was exactly what he wanted) while still doing your job.

“Anything else I can get you?” you asked this mystey man.

“No, thank you.” he said quietly, sitting alone now that the grey-haired, leather jacket wearing guy had left him. Your new regular always stayed maybe half an hour after, thinking and ringing his hands.

“Who can I expect next time?” you said venturing another question and prying just a little as you carefully cleaned up the table, the man leaning way back from you, as he always did. At first you thought you had smelled bad, but over the weeks you figured it was just him. His personal bubble must just be a little larger than most.

“Not sure myself.” he said, looking down with a silent huff, clearly not impressed. It made the long ends of his hair fall down around his face, hiding him from view a little.

That response got a frown from you, but you left it there.

“Well,” you said lightly, plopping the tray on the empty chair and pulling out a clean cloth from your back pocket. “Keep this for the next time, just in case.”

He looked at the white cloth quizzically, slowly taking it when you didn’t pull it away.

“Why, exactly?” he questioned, brows furrowed and looking more than a little skeptical.

You grabbed your tray and shrugged. “Next time your company is less than stellar, wave that white flag in my direction and I’ll coming running to save you.”

You winked at him with a warm smile on you face, grabbing your tray of dishes and leaving the surprised looking man behind.

Your first smile from him:

From there, slowly, you got to know him a little more as the days went on.

His name was Bucky, he was a Brooklyn native, and loved spaghetti (which was just about the most boring and mediocre dish they offered here in your opinion, but you didn’t judge). And despite his rampant awkwardness and attempts at keeping everyone and everything at arm’s length, you thought you were breaking that shell a little.

It was late and the restaurant was empty now, just the kitchen staff in the back and the owner counting the till in the back room. Besides that it was just you and Bucky out on the floor, who was sitting quietly in his usual hidden corner at the back.

“So, there’s a mystery I’ve been trying to solve,” you started lightly, walking up the table. “And I think you are just the man to help me.”

“Me?” he asked you, confused but with a hint of cautious curiosity.

“It’s about a new regular of mine. Well, maybe he’s not new, but he always comes in at the same time, twice a week, sits at the same table, orders the same meal. The most boring one we have, by the way, but that’s besides the point. The only thing that’s different are the people that meet him.”

You smiled softly, raising your eyebrow, the twinkle of the little lights in your eyes. You tried not to tease him too much or make him feel awkward with your questions, but you just had to figure this out.

He shifted in his seat a little, luckily seeming slightly more chatty (for him anyways) after his boring looking session with a rather silent pregnant woman.

“The team thinks I need some… socialization.” he muttered, looking either embarrassed or uncomfortable. Probably both. Poor guy.

You had wondered before if he was writing a paper or doing research, but had no clue how the subjects would connect. And moreover he was never writing notes or anything. You had thought through and imagined him at the same college you attended, wondering what kind of program someone like him would take and what kind of research he was doing. But it just seemed more likely that this was just as simple as conversations with strangers.

You leaned back where you stood with your gaze narrowed, sizing him up as he watched you from the corner of his eyes, cheeks a tinge of red under your scrutiny.

“I’m gonna guess hockey or football… Probably football,” you said, nodding his way absently. “Actually wait, no, you look more like a rugby kinda player. I’ll bet a hundred bucks on rugby.”

You ended up beaming smugly at him, confident in your assumption, though it was met with another confused look and furrowed brows from this enigma of a person.

“What’re you talking about?” Bucky said.

“The team. Your team you talked about, getting you to socialize,” you said, picking up his empty glass and cutlery, noticing for the first time in all your (or any) interactions that he didn’t lean away. “I’d guess you play rugby and it’s your rugby team.”

A smile broke out on his face, forcing its way passed his constant reservations. You maybe thought you heard a breathy chuckle as you stepped back and he leaned forward closer to you, elbows on the table.

“Sorry, you lost that bet after all. It’s a uh, much different kind of team.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, frowning. “Well, it’s just you have quite the… I mean your arms… But like, your shoulders are…”

You gestured awkwardly to your own shoulders, eyes animated and trying to convey just how much of a body builder type this guy looked (but also tried to hide it? Weirdly enough. Like why do all that work to hulk out, just to shy away for showing it off? Well, maybe hence the socialization. But anyway.). As you did, the dishes placed precariously on your tray teetered back and forth, Bucky reaching up reflexively and stabilizing them for you while you spoke.

“Well,” you said with a shrug, ignoring the helpful gesture much to Bucky’s now growing smile. “Whatever team you’re on, I’d like to watch you play. I’m sure I could win a lot of money betting on you.”

You left him be, not seeing the faint and far lingering of a smile on his lips.

After throwing the few dishes left in the ancient dishwasher and turning it on, you walked out to the front just as Bucky was reaching the door to leave.

You ran up to him without really thinking about it, grabbing his arm to stop him. Bucky turned immediately looking at your hand on his bicep, rather seeming surprised by the connection.

“Listen,” you said quietly to him. “I feel the need to say this here, that I’m not a gambler? Like, I know I just made a lot of comments tonight to the contrary. I promise, the generous tips you give me at not thrown onto a race track or something like that, I swear.”

Again, he looked at you trying again to hide a smile growing largely. After a second he snorted, shoulders shaking a little with the breathy chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Y/N.”

“Oh please,” you said good-naturedly, rolling your eyes and pointing a finger at him. “As long as you don’t make the rambling, gambling waitress your dinner topic on your next non-date. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky nodded, grinning still as he left, little bell on the door chiming gently at his parting.

From then on when the restaurant was empty (which was often) and after his strangers left, you and he began to talk.

Your first date (well, kinda):

It was Tuesday night, and you were in a foul mood.

Usually Tuesdays meant seeing Bucky. You’d spend all day guessing who you would see at his table, thinking up wild stories and crazy outfits for them, though you were always way off. As soon as they were gone, you’d sit with Bucky who would fill you in on their conversations, leading to conversations of your own.

But your ever-punctual favourite customer was late. And after two hours past the time he usually walked in, you figured he just wasn’t coming at all.

You told the kitchen staff you had a bad day at school to account for your disposition, plastered on a smile for the few other customers that came in, but you couldn’t shake the gloom or disappointment.

The last of the couples in here eventually left, and after cashing them out and cleaning up, it was just you, alone and cranky, re-wiping the already clean tables.

But the little doorbell chimed and a burst of fresh air entered the little space. When you looked up, ready to greet the entering customer, instead you saw him.

“Hey stranger,” you said, not hiding your shock at his unexpected entrance, with the dark cloud that shrouded you instantly lifted. “What’re you doing here so late? I was getting worried, thought you had moved on to a different restaurant.”

That usual reserved, almost stoney look Bucky had to him dissolved at seeing and hearing you, his expression turning soft in the fairy lights.

“I was just outside-”

“Oh god!” you frantically said interrupting him. “Don’t tell me you were the first person ever to want to use our mini patio, and I completely neglected you?!”

“No, no, I was just waiting for people to leave.” he said quickly before swallowing, hands in his pockets, as though that something he shouldn’t be sharing.

“Oh…” you said, pausing. “Why?”

“I waited,” he admitted, his ocean blue eyes locked on yours, reserved but unwavering. “Because I wanted to talk with you tonight.”

You.

Not someone else. A random stranger. But you.

“Oh,” you said dumbly, a little shocked. “Oh… well, okay.”

You unconsciously rubbed your hands on your apron, looking around the empty restaurant. You shrugged to yourself, untying the back of it and wadded the apron up.

“There, I guess I’m off duty. Free to chat.” you said with a smile, nodding him back to his usual table.

Deftly he followed you back, the two of you taking a seat at the little table. But the moment you sat down, you immediately sprung up again like a shot. “Wait, no!”

Bucky watched, surprise and upset clear on his face, but just as seeing you dissolved his last expression, so again he settled into a more content look as you appeared back with two plates of spaghetti and drinks.

“Alright you creep, watching me through the window,” you teased, noticing a bit of heat on his cheeks, though he didn’t try to deny the accusation. “How did the crowd in here look tonight?”

“Hopefully generous…?” he said, swirling the pasta on his fork without looking. Usually he stared at his food with the other strangers he met. It oddly made you well up with a bit of pride he was watching you instead.

“Well, their tips won’t pay off my college tuition just yet, but give it time.” you said.

“How’s that jerk in your political science class?” he asked casually, sipping from his glass and eyes still locked on you. But you smirked at him knowingly, despite his demure expression.

“I mentioned that in passing and what, probably forever ago?” you teased lightly.

He had been paying a lot more attention than you thought.

He nodded with a shrug. “Yeah, a few weeks ago. He still being a jerk?”

“No,” you answered, not wanting to tease him too much for so diligently remembering your little conversations. Because all in all that was pretty freaking cute.

You paused just watching him for a second, a thought bubbling up in you mind; clearly he didn’t need help socializing with you. Again, a pleasant pressure of emotion built in your chest at that.

But you swirled your pasta and carried on.

“Our female professor demolished him last week when he made this stupid, douchebag kinda comment. I don’t think he’s said a word to anyone since. And the entire thinking world heaves a collective sigh of relief, let me just tell you that.”

So you rambled on and he listened, then he rambled and you did the listening (well, as much as someone like Bucky could ramble… which wasn’t much, but you still held on to every single word).

He talked about his best friend Steve and growing up in Brooklyn, and you talked about business school and your work here, juggling both responsibilities. It sounded pretty boring to you, but he listened in enraptured. Even when he looked down at his food, you could tell every ounce of his focus was still on you, he nodding slightly and wheels turning behind those ocean blue eyes of his.

And despite the lousy spaghetti- which he seemed to enjoy immensely- it was about the best dinner you had ever had.

The kitchen staff had long left as closing time had come and gone, but neither of you seemed ready to let go of this night quite yet. You ended out your time with Bucky listening in to your school friends baby daddy drama, while you washed the few dishes and he dried. It was pointless to run the washer just for this, and Bucky didn’t mind, saddling up right next to you as you chatted on, suds up to your elbows.

When it was time to lock up, you cranked down the window gate and shut off the lights. Grabbing your keys before locking the front door, you turned to him.

“So Thursday, will you be late and with me or on time with a stranger?” you said, poking him in the chest. “I’m a big enough person to admit my little heart can’t take all this “will he, won’t he show” stuff, alright? It just throws off my whole day.”

You couldn’t see him flush a little in the dark night, little streetlights not doing much down this little alley by way of light.

“I’ll be here on time with some character we can talk about after, I promise.”

You smiled to yourself, locking the door.

“Good, or I’ll feed you something other than that lousy spaghetti.” you jokingly threatened.

The first time he walked you home:

Thursday had been the highlight of your week. Yes, you actually loved your classes and your job, but to be honest, when you weren’t with him, you were thinking about him.

Tonight was just the same as the others. Waiting for everyone to leave before sitting down and chatting about everything and anything.

As always you locked up, saying your goodbyes with a tease or a smile from you and a crooked grin from him.

Bucky walked down the dark street, head down and hands in his pockets, making his large frame smaller, as he always tried to do. But he turned around before turning the corner, to take a last look at you before his usual visit next week. He saw your face illuminated by your phone screen, frowning into it with a sigh. You clicked it off, shifting on your feet and looking around the dark side street, unsure of something.

“Hanging out here tonight after all?” Bucky asked, walking silently back up to you.

For some reason he stayed back, as though his friendly presence in the dark night wouldn’t be a welcome one. That couldn’t be farther from the truth and you took an unconscious step closer to him.

“My ride just ditched last minute,” you admitted. “I don’t particularly like the idea of spending my tip money on a cab considering I’m not too far from here. So I decided debating the pros and cons in an ill-lit, sketchy-looking New York street was the best option until I undoubtedly get mugged and my dead body found in that dumpster, gnawed on by raccoons and crazed junkies.”

“Lemme walk you home than,” Bucky offered. “And we can go through that pro and con list on the way.”

You hoped the night masked how bright your face shone in that moment, but it could’ve been seen a mile away.

“Sure, alright.” you said, sounding demure and sweet, before setting off down the street. “I wanted to cycle back to that complete weirdo from last week anyways. Has he shown up at your door, yelling at you for salting your meals yet?”

“No, not yet,” Bucky smiled, trying to keep his shoulder from brushing you on the small sidewalk. “But I’m not convinced he won’t. God, he was crazy.”

“I have never heard someone yell so much over salt. Of all things!” you said chuckling to yourself, not noticing how Bucky watched you, eye sparkling at your laugh. “So what other food do you blasphemously and with malicious intent salt unnecessarily?”

It wasn’t long before you two stepped in time with each other, the walk a few blocks to your apartment the most pleasant way you could think of to end your day.

But it had to end eventually, your steps slowly down slightly as you two walked up a sketchy side street to you lowrise apartment building.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Bucky asked, looking at the building a little concerned.

The building was run down certainly, yells come from one apartment, music blasting through an open window from another, a seedy looking pair drinking something out of paper bags against the side wall.

“It looks sketchy, but generally harmless,” you leaned into him pointing to an open window on the first level, just by the entrance. An old woman was there watching everything, shouting at the two men loitering by the building.

“That’s Grammy Rodrigues,” you started quietly. “She’s a bulldog and keeps an eye out. I promise, she’ll look after me.”

Bucky gave a quick wave as the woman who had turned narrowed eyes to him, more than a little venomous. You waved a little more emphatically than he did, smiling brightly at the old woman.

“Here, just in case she has her hands full.” Bucky said to you, reaching in and pulling on a piece of paper from his pocket, placing it in your hand swiftly.

You took a quick look at it, taking a second to realize his phone number was scribbled on to it. You face moved from confusion to a warm glow.

You didn’t comment on the fact that he already had that written down, like it had been waiting in his pocket for the right time to give it to you. The gesture was far too sweet for you to tease him about it.

“Thanks, I’ll use it for emergencies only…” You continued before he could interrupt. “But maybe also non-emergencies. So pretty much for anything. Meaning you will most definitely live to regret this moment right here, Bucky. Sorry pal, but no one to blame but yourself for this.”

Bucky pursed his lips, trying not to let that crooked grin break into an all-out smile. Still, it completely did.

“Deal.” he said, a little flushed and beaming, find something suddenly quite interesting at his feet.

“Goodnight Buck, and thanks for the walk home.” you said, giving his arm a squeeze.

The pair of you walked off in opposite directions, and for the first time ever you wished you lived much farther from work.

You walked up the steps, leaning on the rail to say hello to your ever watchful neighbour. But your eyes were on the back of Bucky, who pretended not to hear Grammy Rodrigues skipping hellos and remark on how she approved of you not inviting a boy up to your apartment.

Your first text to him:

You flopped into bed, that little piece of paper in your hand. You debated texting for just a second or two before shimmying down, decision made. It didn’t take long for you to add him as a contact and opening up a new text conversation.

Your first time talking about his past:

The next time he came in, you had a hard time not constantly glancing his way. In your defense, he was doing the same to you, stealing glances while his dinner companion chatted on. Whatever the conversation was tonight, it wasn’t half as interesting or enthralling as he found you. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you were in the exact same boat, barely paying attention to anything (or any other customer) but him.

Again and as always, he stayed after his companion left, waiting to end the night talking with you.

Immediately when the place was cleared, you sat down, leaning on the table with your head in your hand, smiling at him and heart brimming full of contentment now that you could be with him again.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” you said, oozing that bit of contentment.

“Hey Y/N,” he said with a smile, before stopping still as he was leaning in, expression dropping. “Wait… you know my last name? You know… you know who I am?”

You didn’t move from your close and casual position and your good spirits didn’t falter, even if his seemed to be plummeting in front of your eyes.

“I do,” you responded, sounding soft and confident. “I figured it out somewhere along the lines. And I decided I wanted to know you, the guy working to get back into the world. Who eats the worst thing on the menu and seems pretty sweet and unassuming.”

His eyes flitted back up to yours from their downcast position, a swirl of intense emotion happening behind them. It briefly caused your heart to flutter in your chest. His stare held a thousand unspoken words in that moment, and a couple you could guess at. Relief. Joy. Fear. Longing. But he remained silent.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, figuring now as as good a time as any. Any transition would be a little jarring, and this had been weighing on you, however selfish it seemed to swing the conversation back to something about you.

“Anything, Y/N.” he responded immediately, determined.

You wondered what he thought you would be asking him. It wasn’t anything serious exactly or related to his history. It was just kinda… personal, maybe was the right word. You tried to play it off as best you could though.

“You uh, called me beautiful, in your text message. Is that like a thing you call every girl, or just the employees of your favourite restaurant?”

Clearly that wasn’t the question he figured you would ask after revealing you knew who he was. He answered just as determined though, but definitely with some added sweetness.

“Just you, beautiful.” he stated, the little pet name making your heart suddenly flutter all the more.

He said it like everyone called you that. Like you had heard it a thousand times. Like it was fact everyone recognized. Well, none of that was true. Yet somehow here he was, saying it like it was both nothing and everything.

“Well…” you stumbled, composing your face to something neutral (and probably failing). “I can uh, agree to that. I guess.”

“How about another date while you’re at it, maybe?”

You looked back up to him, body leaning across the small table, his baby blues intent even if his words were said casually. For the hundredth time you heart fluttered and sputtered in your chest.

“I think I can manage that too.”

The first night he stayed over:

“Hey,” you whispered into your phone, barely audible. “I uh, I’m sorry for calling so late. I just… Remember how you gave me your phone number for both non-emergencies and emergencies?”

You swallowed, trying not to let sheer panic overtake you.

“Well, I’m just calling to say that I’m in my closet.” you whispered, quiet and hoarse. “My bedroom closet if that makes a difference. Probably not. I tend to ramble in an emergency so buckle in for this one. Because I think this is an emergency. Or maybe it’s not. The point is I don’t know. I mean, either a pigeon or something got into my apartment again, or a person did.”

You huddled down even closer to the floor, arm wrapped around yourself and eyes wide in the total pitch darkness.

“Bucky, there may be a person in my apartment. And like, there really shouldn’t be, if there is. I don’t usually allow randos from off the street break in to rob or murder me or whatever.”

You took a deep silent breath, ears straining to hear another from outside your bedroom.

“So anyway,” you continued, trying to make your voice sound lighter though it most came out sounding pained if anything. “I’m here, in an emergency, calling you. You know, so maybe call me back? That would be cool. Or come down and save me from this murderer. Either or. Also, I really hope you are not sleeping and listen to this in the morning only to find me dead. Okay, sorry, I’ll stop rambling. Thanks, bye.”

You clicked to end the voicemail and tried to think of a way not to either implode from terror or get horribly, horribly murdered.

An endless minute or two later a squeak erupted from you in a petrified shock as your phone buzzed so loudly you thought the whole neighbourhood could hear. Another squeak, this time of sheer delight, almost escaped as you saw the caller was Bucky.

Answering as fast as you could with your heart absolutely racing, you instantly were confused at unintelligible mumblings and noises on the other end.

“Hello?” you asked hushed and confused into the dark claustrophobic little space.

“Sorry, I’m coming!” he said rushed, sounding like he was running. “I called while I was pulling on a shirt, but I’m outside now and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t move! I’m coming, I’ll be there. Just don’t move.”

You stayed on the line, barely breathing while he rambled on constantly, stringing together more words than you had ever heard him say, telling you where he was and how long he would be every few seconds. His voice was rushed but thankfully trying to stay calm. It inturn kept you somewhat calm and able to not completely lose your sanity while you sat alone in an apartment with a potential intruder.

“I’m at your door now, but it’s locked.” he said, almost making you cry in relief. “If you can’t let me in I’m going to break it down.”

He took a deep breath in like he was about to punch the thing in when you quickly piped up to stop him.

“No!” you said in a frantic whisper. “The landlord would kick me out if he didn’t just flat out kill me first!”

You struggled to your feet, nerves about stopping your heart as your hand hovered on the closet door.

“I can do this.” you whispered more so to yourself than Bucky, before pushing open the door and full out sprinting like your life depended on it.

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” you shrieked as you bolted through your apartment in the utter darkness, throwing yourself at your front open and retching it open.

You about slammed into Bucky, racing past him to the far side of the hall, block yourself from view with your body.

“Hey Buck,” you whispered rather dully at him, exhausted and relieved, clutching on to his arm for dear life. “Why don’t you come on in. I’ll make some tea while you scare or maim any intruders, huh? That sound good to you? Great let’s just go ahead and do that. Or you know what, we can just burn this building down and forget this whole thing. You know, either or.”

“Stay here,” he said, bending his head down to yours and squeezing your hand a moment, before walking into the pitch black apartment like a man on a mission.

It was a couple stomach twisting minutes before a light flicked on and he emerged.

“So pigeon or murderer?” you asked fidgeting, nervous eyes locked to his. “What’s the verdict?”

“I want to say pigeon,” he said, expression and tone unreadable. Oh god, that did not fill you with a lot of confidence on the pigeon possibility. “Since you did leave your living room window open…”

You groaned, rubbing your face. “Okay, on second thought, I don’t want to know. Because I don’t know if a psychopath or a disease laiden bird running rampant in my place is worse, and I don’t want to know.”

“I can definitively tell you having a murderer in your apartment is much worse than a bird, Y/N.” he said with a frown, blissfully and silently agreeing not to confirm if anyone had been in your place. “C’mon, let’s get you settled back in.”

Bucky led you around your apartment, hand comfortingly on your back the whole way aw he walked with you. He made sure you saw and knew that no one was there, hiding behind a couch or in any closets.

Soon enough the two of you were back by the front door.

“Windows are locked tight, and I’ll come ‘round sometime to add another lock to your door.” he said, hesitating where he stood. Awkwardly, even while exhausted from interrupted sleep and panic, you were doing the same. “Unless that’s… Well, if you don’t me to uh, go or anything… I… well…”

“No, no,” you said, looking down, brows pulled together. “You should probably… well, I mean… I’ve ruined enough of your night already so…”

You made an effort to smile at him however weakly while you held onto your elbows, absolutely hating the fact that he was about to leave you here alone. It wasn’t fair that you called him at all, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him stay if he didn’t want too, so you tried your best to reassure him. Though it was him that did the reassuring.

“You did not ruin my night,” he said adamantly. So much so you believed him, even though running over in a panic to your apartment in the middle of the night could hardly be deemed as pleasant.

Bucky took a step closer to you, warm hand on your arm. “If you need something or if you’re scared or in danger or just anything, you call me. Always. I’ll be there.”

You swallowed, sleepy eyes getting lost in those calming blue ones. You weren’t sure exactly how much time passed with you just swimming in those blue pools, and Bucky wasn’t aware of his fingers rubbing comfortingly across your skin.

“Can you stay?” you whispered, not aware you had really asked until it was too late to take it back. “I mean, my couch isn’t terrible to sleep on and… I mean, I don’t want to be that dick who calls you twice in one night for no reason, both times because I’m too much a scaredy-cat to survive on my own.”

You watched tension melt from his muscles, with his body relaxing and corner of his mouth turning up a bit. Instantly his response relaxed you too.

“Good, cause I don’t want to be that dick who stays up outside your front door like some overbearing jerk.”

Getting him settled out in the living room with pillows and blankets took all of a couple minutes, the two of you trying not to show to other how much better felt with Bucky staying the night. But that was about all the energy you had left, barely managing to keep your eyes open.

“Okay,” you said, stepping right up to Bucky with your hands up on his shoulders, forgetting both about personal space and proper etiquette in your sleep-drunkenness. “If I forget you are here and you make a sound, expect a call that another pigeon has landed, okay? You can just find me in the closet.”

“Okay, Y/N” he said, face brimming with fondness. You nodded once, turning towards your bedroom.

“Goodnight, you overprotective jerk.” you said sleepily.

“Goodnight beautiful.”

Your first kiss:

Sneaking out because of an early morning class was the hardest thing you had done in a long time, not because of minutes of sleep you got but completely because of the handsome drink of water you left on your living room couch.

He was curled up in a tangle of blankets in the dim light, breath even and face a blank, beautiful expression. It took all you had not to wake him up so you could kiss those soft looking lips, see the hazy sleep in his eyes, feel the warm in his stare and from his skin against yours.

Yeah, leaving had been hard.

But the least you could do was let him sleep after stealing so much of it from him, however much it made your heart lurch in pain. You thankfully didn’t have to wait long to see him though.

Despite it very much being the middle of the week and the middle of the afternoon, Bucky arrived to the restaurant just minutes after you did to start your shift. The place wasn’t technically open yet but you couldn’t think of a better person to see opening that door.

He grinned to you as he walked up to you, and you did the same, forgetting your task of placing cutlery on the tables as soon as you locked eyes on him. The pair of you just stood there a moment before speaking.

“Hello.” he said eventually, low voice like velvet.

You watched the corner of his mouth turn up ever higher, unable to focus on anything but his lips in that moment. Your heart might have been pounding harder than it had the night before, but you steeled your resolve all the same. You had regretted not doing it this morning, and wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“Stand there,” you whispered to him seriously. “I should have done this before, but I’m going to do it now instead.”

You were already close to him, but you took a breath, slowly taking another step closer. It meant your body was now against his, your warm and soft frame to his large, muscular one.

You locked your gaze on his, trying to anchor him there while you pressed yourself against him, wondering and silently demanding that he not break away from you. Bucky stood rigid, body tight and his breath held in his chest. You could see in his eyes his nerves, his longing, his tension. You wanted to see bliss there instead, nothing but pure happiness. All the wonderful and beautiful and safe things he made you feel.

You brushed your fingers along his cheek, his head moving down ever so slightly towards you yet not all the way, hesitant to make the final move.

Instead you raised yourself up on your tiptoes, the length of your body moving like liquid against his. The movement caused him to slowly and unconsciously blink, like he was briefly savouring that feeling of you sliding along him.

Your lips hovered just a fraction above his, parted and licked wet by your tongue, with you taking a moment to build the anticipation of this first kiss. Warm breath mingling together, the heat you were both feeling spilling out into the air around you.

The moment you closed the distance and set your mouth to his, you melted. You went from confident to a love-drunk puddle in his arms. This kiss was sweet like the finest honey, as fiery as the blood pumping through you, as intoxicating as you had ever felt. It wasn’t neat or chaste, but warm and deep, the feeling completely consuming you both.

The moment your parted, hungry lips connected with his, Bucky’s stilled breath and body came to life again. Your soft body against his, your unspoken longing and gentle heat crashing through him like a euphoric shock to his system. Where he was hesitant and rigid, he was now molded to you trying to breath in every piece of you, trying to kiss deeper and harder and as intensely as his bursting heart could handle. His tongue begging for entrance into you, arms enveloped you, heart and body and soul unwilling to let you go.

The tiniest little sound was caught in your throat, the smallest whispered release of longing breathed out into his mouth. At that little moan he lifted across the room and pushed your back against the coarse brick wall, trying with everything to be and contain your whole world. Just as in that moment you were his.

The only thing that could split you apart save death in that moment was the need for oxygen, the two of you somehow needing it at the same moment. Breaking apart was almost painful, everything in you desperate to find your way back to his lips as fast as possible.

You breathed, gasping silently on his shoulder, trying and failing to both catch your breath and shake out the dizziness that was clouding your mind, that overwhelming intoxication. He couldn’t either, clinging to you like he wasn’t ready to let you go, chest heaving against yours, drunk and electrified by your touch.

Completely at the mercy of the best first kiss of your life, the two of you waited and held each other in blissful, intoxicated and bewildered silence, alone in that little restaurant.

PART TWO

A/N: If you want me to write more “firsts” and add on another chapter, let me know! Thanks for reading!

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