#i feel like with the way i draw flower its obvious i am so hopelessly in love with them

[lavendorii]

average they/them fatigue

[princess-of-the-worlds]

Steve Rogers and the No Good, Very Bad Promposal

For @debwalsh who donated to @fandomtrumpshate and asked for high school!stucky + fake-dating.

Shout out to @marleymortis for being an awesome beta and cheerleader.

ao3 link: here

word count: 1749

warnings: none

summary: “I’m not fake-dating you just so that you can settle a bet with Natasha,” Steve retorts in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air. “What did she even promise you in return?”

“What? No!” Steve cries when he hears Bucky’s latest hare-brained scheme. “Why in the world? Just no! Why?”

“Stevie,” Bucky pleads. With his hair tousled from its gelled style, his oversized sweatshirt, and jutting bottom lip, he looks overly adorable, and Steve is finding it harder and harder to refuse his best friend.

“I’m not fake-dating you just so that you can settle a bet with Natasha,” Steve retorts in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air. “What did she even promise you in return?”

“Her Corvette,” Bucky whispers excitedly, leaning forward in the warm atmosphere of Steve’s bedroom. “Besides, it’s not like you’re fake-dating me entirely. I’m just fake-asking you to Prom.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “And what were her terms for the bet? Her exact words?”

“‘Nothing you do will ever be able to shock or surprise me, James, but I will give you a week nonetheless. If you succeed, you can drive my Corvette anywhere you want for a month,’” Bucky mimics with just the slightest hint of a Russian accent. His Natasha impression is nearly perfect enough that she could be in the room with them.

Steve shivers.

“This?” he asks incredulously. “This is how you want to shock her? Why?”

Bucky fixes him with a stare like this should all be obvious to Steve. “Because it is random af. She’d never see it coming.”

Steve definitely hadn’t seen it coming.

“So,” Bucky prompts, “will you do it? Will you fake-go to Prom with me?”

Steve considers it for a moment, mulling over the decision.

A, he’s been hopelessly in love with his best friend since freshmen year and will never get another chance to hear Bucky ask “Will you go to Prom with me?”

B, Bucky’s plan has a chance of going horribly awry like most of their plans do, and someone will end up hurt, and it will probably be Steve.

“Fine,” Steve says finally, wondering why the hell he’s agreeing to this. “But you better bring me flowers when you propose. No roses. And chocolate. This better be the most real, fake Promposal anyone at SHIELD High has ever seen, James Barnes!”

Bucky beams.

“You’ll never be able to tell him, James.”

“Don’t doubt me too much, Nat. Have I ever failed you before?”

“Maybe you have. Maybe you have not. But my point is, James, that when it comes to Steve, your judgement is always a bit skewed. You always freeze.”

“Hey! I never freeze!”

“Hmm. I’ll make you this bet, James. Ask Steve to Prom like you’ve been dreaming about since junior year, and my Corvette will be yours for the month. Else, I will give Rebecca a very detailed sex ed lesson in front of you the next time I come over for dinner.”

“It’s going down today,” Bucky whispers to Steve as they pass in the hallway on their way to their individual second periods.

“Where?” Steve calls after him. “When? How? Why do you have to be so vague, Buck?”

But Bucky’s already disappeared past the mass of students swarming their lockers, and a frustrated and bewildered Steve slips into AP Art History a minute late.

Third and fourth period come and go, and it is finally lunch, so Steve heads to his locker, but when he turns the lock to his combo and opens it, there’s an explosion of gold confetti in his face.

“What the f-?” Steve bats confetti away from his eyes and spits some out of his mouth. “Gross,” he sighs.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky begins dramatically from behind Steve, his tone giddy and gleeful.

“Oh, no,” Steve says, turning around to find Bucky standing there and clutching a bouquet of peonies.

At least he listened, Steve thinks subconsciously. Instead, he scowls at his best friend.

“Stevie,” Bucky repeats. “When I first saw you punching the ever-living daylights out of Gilmore Hodge on the playground in pre-school, I thought you were the cutest little punk I’d ever seen.”

“Really, Buck?” Steve asks dryly. “We were six. All you wanted to know was where I’d found my Captain America action figure.”

Bucky smiles rapturously. “We’d always known that I was a catch,” he states, preening slightly, “and it only took twelve years for your ugly mug to catch up.”

“Asshole,” Steve shoots back, bristling with irritation. “Arrogant bastard.”

Still, some part of him, despite knowing how much Bucky is sugarcoating this entire exchange, can’t help but sigh and tremble at every word that comes from his best friend’s mouth.

Someone nearby snickers, and Steve realizes a small crowd has formed around them. Visible at the edge, with her hair a bright beacon, is Natasha, watching this interaction with vigilant eyes. Behind her is a heavy-eyed Clint and, of course, Tony, who conveniently has his phone out to film this.

“Turns out we make a dynamic duo,” Bucky continues, and Steve’s attention snaps back to him. “With my looks and brains and athletic ability and your…ability to hold a pencil.”

“This is the worst Promposal ever,” Steve says loudly, and someone boos.

At Steve or at Bucky? The world will never know.

Bucky isn’t deterred, of course. “We make such great best friends,” he states, “but we’d make a more extraordinary couple.”

“Not with your vanity, we won’t,” Steve grumbles in response.

“Will you,” and here Bucky’s words become almost sincere as his eyes soften and his jaw slackens, “go to Prom with me, punk?”

The part of Steve that was cooing at this proposal and that has been hopelessly gone on Bucky since, like, forever takes hold of Steve’s brain.

“I will, jerk,” Steve replies softly. “I’m with you until the end of the line, remember? Doesn’t matter how.”

Bucky’s grip becomes lax, and the peonies plummet to the floor, Steve watching them fall in confusion. Then Bucky rushes forward with lips parted, closing the short distance between them in a matter of seconds.

Soft, warm lips cover Steve’s, and then they’re kissing, but Steve has to reach down and pinch the skin of his wrist. Because he’s dreaming, right? There’s no way he’s actually kissing Bucky Barnes, his best friend and impossible crush.

The crowd around them cheers, and Steve swears he hears Tony yell, “Get it, Barnes!”

Bucky, who has wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist as he cranes his neck downwards, reaches his free hand up and flips Tony the bird.

When they part, the crowd, which has thinned down to mostly their friends, applauds again.

“What was that?” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s ear. Over his shoulder, he catches a glimpse of Natasha, whose jaw has dropped slightly, and he feels satisfaction.

It is damn near impossible to surprise Natasha Romanova, and they have done it.

“Til the end of the line,” Bucky reminds him, clearing his throat with a rough cough. “I had to sell it so that Natasha would buy it.”

“How much more do we have to keep selling it?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes.

“Looks like you’re going to Prom with me,” Bucky says, eyes wide and bluer than the ocean, “or I’ll never get to drive that Corvette.” He pauses awkwardly. “By the way, the chocolate’s in your locker. I had too many things to hold. Make sure you take it out and take it home, or it’ll melt in there.”

On Prom night, Steve and Bucky dress in matching black tuxes, although Steve’s bowtie is navy while Bucky’s is red.

They rent a limo with the rest of their friends, having already refused Tony’s continuous offers that they can just borrow one of his dad’s. Natasha keeps an observant eye on them the entire time.

Tony does bring the alcohol though, and by the time they reach the venue, Steve is tipsy and pink-cheeked, clutching Bucky’s hand tightly.

Although the effects of the alcohol wear off both boys more than an hour later, they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other or lips too far apart as the night draws to an end.

And to Steve’s immense delight, Bucky giddily tells him, “I rented us a hotel room,” as they are ushered off the dance floor by a straight-faced parent chaperone.

“Stevie,” Bucky begins guiltily a week before graduation. “I have something to tell you.”

Steve glances up from his book and rolls over on his bed to face his best friend. “Yeah, Buck?”

“Remember my bet with Natasha?” Bucky states.

Steve sighs. “Honestly, Buck. If you dented the Corvette, I am the worst person to ask. Try Tony; he might actually be able to help you. Natasha won’t spare you if she finds out.”

There is slight amusement in Bucky’s voice, but it’s mostly overshadowed by anxiety. “The bet wasn’t that I do my best to surprise her,” he announces suddenly. “Natasha dared me that I wouldn’t be able to ask you to Prom.”

There is an awkward beat of silence. “And why would she do that?” Steve asks calmly, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Because she knew that I had a major crush on you,” Bucky blurts out. “Which I have had. A crush, I mean. For like what feels like forever.”

Steve stares at Bucky, who seemingly cowers under the blond’s gaze.

Then Steve bursts into hysterical laughter.

“What?” Bucky asks in bewilderment.

Clutching his side, Steve straightens but collapses back onto his bed in a fit of silent laughter. Finally, he reigns himself in and wheezes breathlessly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Did you really think I didn’t know?”

“How?”

“Natasha told me,” Steve states with a growing smile. “If it counts, I’ve had a crush on you since freshmen year.”

“So, this entire time,” Bucky begins in disbelief.

“We’ve actually been dating while you thought we were fake-dating,” Steve confirms and bursts back into laughter.

Bucky scowls. “You little punk. You could have told me. Saved me some pining.”

“To be fair,” Steve comments, stretching out against his bed spread, “Natasha was going to tell you soon. She said she was tired of your whining, jerk!”

“I…I…”

It’s fun to watch Bucky fluster. At least until he gives up.

“I’m gonna get revenge for that,” he declares dramatically. “On everyone, especially Natasha.” He sticks his arms out. “But, since you’re the most convenient, looks like you are my first victim.”

With that, he leaps onto the bed and tickles and kisses a giggling Steve until both of them are bone-tired and cuddling.