#this smooth motherfucker (ง •̀_•́)ง

[ghuleh-recs]

hey siri, define “rizz.”

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Cracker Jacks and kiss cams

Summary: A story in which Bucky Barnes is very smitten, there’s a baseball game between the New York Mets and the Chicago Cubs, and Cracker Jacks are consumed.

Prompt: “I never thought you’d break my heart” Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: None. A bit of language maybe, but this is all just sappy fluff. 

A/N: This is my submission for @just-some-drabbles​ Rom-Com writing challenge, thanks for letting me join last minute and congratulations on reaching 4k! This story came about because I really love baseball, I really love the Chicago Cubs, and I really love Bucky Barnes, so all in all, it felt like a win-win.

MASTERLIST

(Bucky, opening Google search)

“how do you know if a woman is interested” “when do you know if a woman wants to kiss you” “how to tell a woman you love her without saying it” “why do I suck at talking to her” “oh my god why can’t I just ask her out” 

*****

(Bucky, texting Steve)

Bucky: help me Steve: ? Bucky: how do I tell her I like her? Steve: seriously? Open mouth, say words. Try not to be a dumbass Bucky: aren’t you supposed to be my best friend stop being a DICK steve Steve: stop being pathetic bucky Bucky: you’re an asshole and I need a strategy fucking help me Steve: I gave you a strategy Bucky: you are literally the worst wingman on the entire motherfucking PLANET Steve:  (ง'̀-'́)ง

*****

(Bucky, talking to Siri)

Bucky: Siri, there’s this girl I like and I want to ask her out but I don’t know how. I don’t know if she feels the same way and I really want to tell her she’s amazing and then she smiles at me and I have no idea how to talk to her and she’s so far out of my league, what am I supposed to do? Should I just ask her out? How do I do that? Siri: Okay, I’ve found several lists of ways to ask a girl out. Bucky, scrolling: These are stupid. I’m not some 13-year-old punk kid. Siri: Now searching, ways to ask out a 13-year-old punk kid. Bucky: What? No! Siri: Now searching, why do I like a 13-year-old punk kid. Bucky: Siri what the actual fuck?!

Bucky throws down his phone with an exasperated groan and falls face first onto his bed. His voice is muffled into his pillow when he shouts. “Why is this so damn hard?” 

*****

Jittery. That’s the best word to describe this feeling. 

Bucky is slowly working his way through the packed crowd surrounding Citi Field, eyes scanning the sea of blue and orange for the familiar face he is so anxious to see. He registers the ebb and flow of conversation, fans from both teams screaming back and forth, but he tunes most of it out. He is far to wrapped up in his own drama to worry about anything else around him.

And then he spots her, the source of his personal agony standing near the entrance, a content smile on her lips as she absorbs the excitement around her. Bucky feels his brain stutter and he thinks to himself, isn’t it just the strangest damn feeling when the rest of the world goes quiet and blurry and all you see is one person in front of you.

He has it bad. Like, this is really bad. 

Reaching a hand up, he tugs on his blue Brooklyn Dodgers ballcap (because he’s a Brooklyn boy at heart god dammit, and he still hates Walter O’Malley for moving them to LA and he’s never fucking letting this go), nervously adjusting the brim over his eyes, tucking his hair behind his ears, smoothing the front of his blue and orange Mets t-shirt.

“Get it together Barnes, you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.” He mutters the pep talk under his breath, testing the inflection on different words, hoping to convince himself.

Nope, doesn’t work. Still that burning hot feel of absolute panic, riding him hard.

She’s turning now and her eyes meet his, and her arm curves up to wave excitedly, and a heartbreakingly beautiful smile lights up her face, and Bucky trips over a non-existent crack on the pavement.

Jesus Christ man, get your shit together. 

He manages some semblance of a smile when he finally reaches her side and says “Hurgh –“ oh my god Barnes, that’s not a fucking word, but thank God she takes pity on him and ignores his inability to communicate, stretching up to wrap him in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much for inviting me Bucky, it’s been so long since I’ve seen them play.”

Her voice is soft in his ear and he feels her warm breath tickle his neck, sending a flash of longing zipping down his spine. He supposes he should let go, but now that she’s hugging him it seems a waste to let the moment end so he holds on tight, and maybe he pretends the heavy press of the crowd is the reason for his lingering hug, because it seems like solid rationale.

She’s a little breathless when she finally pulls back, but she holds onto his forearms, leaning back to look up into his face and Bucky is trying desperately to rearrange his features into something a little more genial and a little less ‘I love you please have my babies.’ He’s pretty unclear right now what his face shows, but she hasn’t slapped him, so it must not be too creepy.

“You’re – um, yeah you’re welcome, really happy you could come with me, you love baseball, that’s so great it’s the best, I don’t – ” he pauses mid-babble, eyes flicking down to the throwback jersey she’s wearing, noticing the logo for the first time and the realisation hits him like a brick.

“Wait a minute, hang on. You’re a Cubs fan?”

She grins up at him, taking in his horrified expression with amusement. “Bet your ass I am. Have been my whole life. I bleed Cubbie blue, Barnes.”

Bucky groans dramatically. She was bound to have one flaw, he supposes, but did it have to be this? 

“Aw damn, I hate the Cubs, they’re seriously just, like, the worst.”

She gives him a consoling pat on the arm, feigning sympathy, and he melts  when he sees the laughter dancing in her eyes, but he tries his hardest to pretend disappointment.

“I’m gutted darlin, out of all the people in my life, I never thought you’d break my heart like this, standing there in that God awful shade of blue. You’re really killin’ me, I might have to give your ticket to someone more deserving.”

Bucky watches her nose scrunch up when she starts laughing at his dramatic speech, and he feels that familiar swooping in his stomach that always happens when she’s around and he immediately forgives her for this and any past Cubs related sins.

“You don’t mean that, you need a little healthy competition in your life. And besides Buck, I didn’t know your heart was mine to break,” she sasses back, giving him a wink, and he nearly swallows his tongue.

Bucky’s still racking his brain for his witty response when she loops her arm through his, and pulls him toward the entrance.

“Come on, I need some Cracker Jacks before the game starts. I love your hat by the way. Vintage, just like you.”

*****

Bucky actually does have a strategy. He’s thought about it long and hard, debated every possible scenario, and he has to admit, it’s pretty good. All it took was a phone call to the stadium (a process during which he hung up three times in a panic before anyone actually answered), greasing a palm or two, promising some kids a photo with Steve, and here they are.

They pause at a kiosk to pick up two beers, three hot dogs for Bucky and a box of Cracker Jacks for her.

“Are you sure you don’t want something, um, more substantial?” Bucky questions, indicating a hot dog or a hamburger or something more than pure sugar.

“Nope!” She grins happily, pops the box open and takes a handful. Bucky’s momentarily mesmerised by the way her tongue catches the sweet popcorn, and he feels a flush working its way up his neck. It’s very possible the image of her eating Cracker Jacks may now be the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

Like, ever.

He makes a mental vow to buy enough candy to stock her kitchen for pretty much infinity.

As they step out into their seating section, he feels himself begin to loosen up. The sky is a vivid blue, the outfield a bright green, the sunshine warm when it hits their faces.

Perfect baseball weather.

There’s a damp, clean smell surrounding them, the scent of fresh cut grass floating in the air as they make their way to the seats, and Bucky watches her enjoy the view, watches her take a deep breath of the cool air, watches her watching the players warm-up. He can’t seem to stop watching.

Be cool man, damn, his internal voice chastises again.

When they finally reach their row, he steps quickly aside (ever the gentleman), ushering her in first. She gives him a sweet smile and briefly squeezes his arm with her Cracker Jack-less hand, before dropping into her seat. He follows close behind, settling into his seat and gives a grunt of annoyance when he realises it’s won’t be a comfortable fit.

Swallowing hard, he plucks up the courage, and tentatively slides his arm along the back of her chair. “Um, is this okay? Seats are kind of small.”

“Of course, you might need to keep me warm anyway.” She gives him a nudge, sitting back into her seat and moving a little closer. He lets out a silent huff, his arm inching a little closer to her shoulders, fingers curling around her. If she shows the slightest hint of being cold, he’s more than prepared to snuggle.

Because he’s a great friend and all. Yeah. That’s it.

Propping her feet on the plastic seat in front of her, she turns toward him expectantly. “Okay, story time. Tell me why you hate the Cubs so much.”

Bucky’s easy laugh finally cracks his nervousness.

“Well, you’re required to hate at least one team in your division, that’s a rule. But it was one game that put the Cubs in the top spot. It was 1938, I got a couple tickets as an early birthday present for Steve. The game was great – you should’ve seen Ebbets Field back then, still so damn pissed they tore it down – and anyway, Dodgers were losing up until the bottom of the ninth, we had a huge rally, thought we’d walk away with the win, but there was one bullshit play and that was it. We lost by one.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She gives him a fake pout and rubs her thumb and forefinger together. “World’s saddest story, played with the world’s smallest violin.”

Bucky ducks his head, a lopsided grin tugging up his lips. “Thanks for the sympathy. Well, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but then Steve goes and picks a fight with a couple mouthy punks from Chicago, and next thing I know, I’m sporting a broken nose and Steve’s missing a tooth and most of his dignity, and ever since then, well - we’ve both held pretty tight to that hate.”

She throws up her hands, stopping his story. “Wait, wait, wait. Steve got into a fight with someone?”

Bucky snorts. “Shocking, right? He’s usually so calm and easy going.”

She nods thoughtfully, looks deep into his eyes and there his stomach is doing that stupid little flip again. “Well I get it. Although that’s a hell of a long time to hold a grudge.”

“I’ve always excelled at stamina.” The flirty comment falls from his lips without a thought, and he follows it with a suggestive wink, heart racing delightedly when he sees her eyes sparkle.

*****

The game flies by. Fast. Way too fast. Everyone around him is laughing and smiling and chatting. Must be nice to be so god damn carefree.

Bucky Barnes is reaching his breaking point.

The game is nearing the end of the 6th inning, the Cubs are up by one run, there was a double-play on the field that will probably top the SportsCenter highlights reel, but to be honest, he hasn’t paid one ounce of attention to the game. His mind is occupied with a more pressing, panic inducing topic.

“Fuck, fuckity, fuck,” he whispers, the sudden sweep of nerves drying up his throat. He can feel his right hand beginning to sweat, and he rubs it unconsciously on his leg. His left hand taps a nervous rhythm on his knee.

She glances at the rapid movement of his fingers, head tilting with a curious question. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I’m, yep. Good. Right.” His voice is several octaves higher than normal and he clears his throat quickly and tries again. “Sorry, yes. All good.”

“And that’s the end of the 6th inning!” The announcer’s cheerful voice rings out, echoing through the stadium. The sound of laughter and chatter swells, as the Dodgers head into the field.

Bucky legitimately thinks he’s gonna throw up.

The beginning chords of an upbeat song fill the stadium, and the announcer’s voice is back.

“Hello fans! Pucker up, it’s time for today’s Kiss Cam!”

This was a new invention since Bucky was last at a Dodgers game in 1938. He saw it a few years ago and figures it’s a funny way to include the crowd in the stadium experience, always good for a laugh.

For a laugh, or even - oh god oh god oh god.

Turning his attention to the giant video screen in the outfield, wiping a slick hand on his jeans, his heartrate pounds into overdrive.

The camera flashes first to an older couple, the woman laughing when her husband dives in for a sloppy kiss.

The camera flashes to a young dad and his daughter, and she giggles when he plants a wet kiss on her cheek.

The camera flashes to a dark-haired man in a blue Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap and a pretty girl in a Chicago Cubs jersey.

Shit, this is it, this is it, this is it.

“Bucky! It’s us!” She’s laughing excitedly, and Bucky takes a huge breath and turns to her.

“Um, do you – ” but she’s already jumping to her feet, pulling him with her, stretching to reach his lips and her breath tastes like sticky sweet caramel from the Cracker Jacks and Bucky is floored.

When her mouth presses to his, he feels a sizzle of electricity skitter across his skin and he does the only natural thing. Curving one arm around her waist, gently gripping the back of her neck with his other hand, he pulls her flush against him and with a sweep, dips her backward over his arm. She gives a small squeak of surprise at the move, and Bucky swallows the sound greedily, sinking deeper into the kiss. He can feel her lips smiling against his, and there’s a wild burst of excitement in his chest when she grips tight to his shoulders and kisses him back with more enthusiasm than he ever could have hoped.

Distantly, he can hear the crowd whistling and clapping at the show, but he ignores everything except the feel of her soft lips and the way her fingers burn his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

Incredible, he marvels. If he’d known this was what their first kiss would feel like? He would’ve started kissing her the moment they met, and he probably would’ve never stopped, because this right here, is something he can imagine doing every day, for the rest of his life.

It takes an eventual tap on his leg from the older gentleman sitting next to him, to finally come out of the haze surrounding the two of them. Vaguely, he hears the stadium catcalling when the announcer calls out “okay son, time to come up for air.”

Bucky slowly pulls her upright, settling her back on her feet before he gently breaks the kiss. He knows thousands of people are watching, but he can’t seem to look away. Her eyes are wide in her face, and he feels a flicker of pride when he notices her delicately swollen mouth. Reaching a thumb up, he swipes it lightly over her bottom lip, before dropping another quick kiss on her lips, ending with a light kiss on her nose.

The entire stadium is on their feet, cheering on the guy who obviously just made the move of a lifetime. Giving the crowd an embarrassed wave, he falls back into his seat, pulling her down next to him, and he can’t stop the silly grin now permanently etched on his face.

“Well, so okay. That went better than I expected.”

She’s staring at Bucky with a look of shock and something remarkably close to desire, if he’s not mistaken (and later that night, he happily discovers he is definitely not mistaken). She shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. There’s amusement colouring her voice when she breathlessly chastises him.

“Bucky Barnes, did you plan this?”

Threading his fingers with hers, he lifts her knuckles and brushes his lips across them, giving her a quiet chuckle. Leaning toward her, his other hand cups her cheek and he inhales the warm scent of vanilla on her skin, before he whispers in her ear.

“I might have, yeah. Is that okay? I’ve been wanting to do that since the first moment we met, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

He hears her gentle laugh and he nearly faints when she leans into his touch with a low hum.

“Yes it’s okay, but just so you know - you had me with the Cracker Jacks. Once you bought those, I was all yours.”

“Good to know,” Bucky whispers and he presses his lips to hers again. The taste of sunshine and Cracker Jacks fills his mouth, and God, isn’t that just the most delicious thing in the world?

*****

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