BUCKY BARNES x READER
STEVE ROGERS x READER

WARNINGS:
none.

NOTES: this is pre-serum!steve, and a modern day teacher au. also i'm going to do more parts + maybe make it a throuple ;)

— b.

____________

You stood in the elevator of Bucky's apartment building. It was certainly a lot nicer than yours, but you decided to ignore that as you smoothed your dress down, watching the numbers tick upwards on the dial above the doors. It wasn't usual for you to care about how you looked, nor to dress up for anyone else; but you liked to wear something fancy every once in a while. Especially when you went to Bucky's or Nat's to have a drink. In fact, today you were wearing your favourite dress, with your hair pulled back from your face.

Just as you were straightening out the material of your outfit, the elevator dinged open, and revealed his hallway. You'd taken the same route more times than you could remember, and you watched the carpet as you walked down to his door. When you neared, you finally looked up to notice a figure opening the front door opposite Bucky's. You took a moment to clock that it was Steve.

When he looked up and saw you, his eyes widened and his keys went clattering to the ground in surprise. You couldn't help but cover your mouth as you let out a reflexive laugh (you didn't mean to be rude, really). He grabbed the object from the floor, bashfully returning his gaze to meet yours, his cheeks hued with a lovely pink. Earlier, you had looked strangely different — now you were finally allowed to wear something above the knee, and it was kind of killing him.

"Hey, I didn't know you lived here," You remarked, not sure why Bucky hadn't mentioned the new librarian being his next-door neighbour, practically. You'd also heard constantly about his best friend, Steve, and suddenly two and two were being put together.

"Oh, um, yeah. Who are you here for?" He asked curiously, clearly not having seen that you were going for the apartment that you were. Steve Rogers was smart, yes. But that didn't mean he wasn't also stupid, and oblivious. Especially when he was around someone like you.

"Bucky? You don't know him?" You queried.

Realization seemed to dawn on him, and he went through what appeared to be several emotions in a mere couple of second, "That makes sense," He chuckled, looking down in a disappointed way, "I didn't know that you were the (Y/n)."

"What do you mean?" You blanched, mind racing as to what Bucky could have possibly said, or what he'd heard about you. For some reason you wanted to give Steve a good impression of you.

He looked at you through his eyelashes, clearly debating on whether or not he should say his next words, "He talks about you all the time . . . I can get why," he added belatedly, making you smile coyly. "I only started working at the school two days ago. I was gonna surprise him during the day, but I guess I just haven't had the time."

You could feel your face become warm. Of course Bucky would talk about you; you were best friends, and you spent a lot of time together. You couldn't think of what Bucky might say, and how he'd relay the information. Was it casual? Was he gushing?

Your head was spinning.

And Steve, he was so kind, and thoughtful. You'd spent the afternoon riffling through Hamlet and how you intended to teach it. He seemed equally as passionate, and attentive. You liked the way he was always meeting your eyes despite his shyness. You couldn't help but also notice that he was immediately bummed out to find out you were the person Bucky was constantly referencing. "Wow. My worlds are kind of colliding right now," You chuckled.

"Believe me, I know it," He said, humor clear in his voice as a smile pulled to his lips, "I better head inside, I guess." He gestured back to his door, his key already turned in the lock. He didn't know how he'd lasted so long without messing up majorly in front of you, unable to help the way he admired your beauty.

"Oh, yeah," You nodded, trying to hide your flushed features, "Of course. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, (Y/n)," He confirmed, offering you a gentle smile, before opening his door, and entering his apartment.

You barely had a few moments to collect yourself before Bucky was pulling his own door open, ushering you in as he asked you about all the noise in the hallway.

________________

Bucky hardly let you talk until you were on his couch with a glass of red wine in your grasp, flustered. He was rambling his head off adorably, barely checking to see your reaction until he was sitting next to you.

"I just met Steve," You finally blurted, once he'd finally trailed off, going for a sip of his drink.

"Oh?" He asked, an eyebrow raised with hesitant curiosity, "So that's who you were talking to in the hallway."

"Yeah, and earlier . . ." You explained, and he only looked more confused, "He's the new librarian they brought in to help Peggy-"

"Oh, Hell! And he didn't tell me?" He immediately exclaimed, clearly happy to hear the news, but also annoyed that he hadn't been informed before. There were nuances to his expressions that you'd come to notice over the years (not because you were looking dreamily at him, or anything).

You shook your head with a small smile at his reaction, "It was supposed to be a surprise. Cats out of the bag!"

He laughed slightly, shaking his head, "Way to go, spoiling it."

"Sorry," You shot him a genuinely sincere look, "He did tell me something, though," you carried on, tugging at an obvious string; Bucky was incredibly curious, and wouldn't give up until he knew what he wanted to.

His eyes narrowed at your words, "Oh? I'll have you know that he's a compulsive liar," He told you, and you couldn't help but chuckle immediately in reply.

"What, him? He couldn't lie if he tried, Buck. You know that," You joked.

Bucky seemed to agree with you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you tilt your wine glass and take a sip. The smallest things about you always seemed to enchant him. He felt fuzzy inside and he wasn't sure if it was his alcohol tolerance, or you. Okay, maybe he was. "Yeah, I guess not," He remarked fondly, both at you, and the thought of his best friend. Him and Steve had been inseparable since they were kids, and their connection was a lot closer than Bucky could begin to describe or explain.

"He said that you talk about me a lot . . ." You paused, looking up at him to gauge his reaction as you hid your own warm cheeks, "Do you?"

He seemed to be surprised by your question, freezing momentarily. You could've sworn you saw him blush slightly, his eyes flickering away from you. "You're my best friend," he blanched, not really addressing the question much.

"Yeah, and you're mine," You agreed, watching as his dark eyes flickered up to meet with yours, a twinkle in them that hid his intentions. You loved his eyes, and you'd told him that many times.

"And so . . . that's normal, isn't it?"

_________

The two of your proceeded to get tipsy over dinner together, laughing and talking like you usually did on those kinds of nights. Ever since you'd met Bucky, it was like a breath of fresh air into you life. Everything about him was so easy to love, and adore. And he felt just the same way about you, listening to your words with baited breath, his head in his hands as he smiled at you warmly — distracted by the way you spoke and moved.

By the time you settled back into his couch, the two of you were sobering up; but that didn't stop you from excusing your closeness with alcohol. You were watching a flurry of movies, mostly just enjoying how nice it was to have his strong arms around you, bringing your body to his chest, your head resting just below his chin. His body rised, and fell rhythmically — furthering your contentedness as you sighed into his skin slightly. An absent grin drifted to his face, and his hand that wasn't wrapped around you, immediately went to capture your grasp in it, intertwining your fingers.

He'd learnt to keep his heart rate down around you, glad that you couldn't hear the way his internal monologue was screaming at him to capture you in a kiss. Or blurt our whatever was on his mind. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, instead just cherishing how openly you seemed to love his touch.

His chest rumbled in a laugh at something that happened on screen, and you retroactively looked up at him, tilting your head back so that you were at eye-level again.

His hung down, his nose inches from yours, your breath mingling softly between the two of you. You were both holding something back — closer than you thought you'd be, with your eyes meeting for a moment longer than they should've. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, just like always when he was around you.

Without much thought his hand came up to hold the side of your face tenderly, his touch making goosebumps appear along your neck. You shivered involuntarily, leaning into his hand. It was comforting and warm, just like he was.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked blearily, and you swore you could barely hear him over your ears ringing. You could barely think when he had all his attention on you like that; never mind looking at you how he was. Your heart fluttered as you wordlessly nodded.

You swore you saw a hint of a smile, before he was leaning in and capturing your lips with his. Everything seemed to completely stand still for you as you kissed him back, cherishing the way he felt so soft against you. How loved you felt. In all the time you'd been friends, you'd never thought you'd end up like that — but in that moment, it felt so right. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and he listened with contentment to your pleased little sounds as the two of you moved against each other.

When you pulled apart, you didn't wait to go back in for more, both of you more desperate than the other had anticipated. Seemingly, Bucky and you had been wanting the same thing.

He'd fallen in love with you a good few months into knowing you, but he'd never made a move. He thought you'd only ever seen him as a friend (and he was content to be that for you — anything that made you happy). Having you pressed up against him, sighing contentedly when his hands drifted across your body, wrapping around your waist to pull you closer — he was more sure than ever about how he felt. And he wasn't sure how he'd denied it to himself before.

Detaching from each other for what felt like the first time in forever, both of you were breathless and hot. Your hands had subconsciously found their way around his neck, and your fingers just barely brushed through the hair at the nape of his neck. He practically purred, burying his nose in your neck where he left a trail a gentle kisses.

You couldn't help but let out a flustered giggle, pressing your hands to his chest to stop him for a moment. He pulled back, and you noted his slightly boyish disappointment. "Bucky . . I thought we were just friends," You remarked, smugness in your tone — and you made no move to back away from him, your fingers drifting up and down his chest, to his neck.

His serotonin was going crazy, and he couldn't help but cock a smile, despite how his face felt hot at your words. He knew that only an hour ago he'd friend-zoned himself, but having you in there, your palms running across the material of his shirt, meant that he didn't give a shit about any of that anymore. "So maybe I was lying a little," He shrugged, making your laugh quietly in response, "I've liked you for a really long time."

"Since before or after that one night?" You queried, not sure if he had thought about it as much as you had. By the blush coating the bridge of your nose, you knew he remembered just what you did. His lips twitched up into a humoured smile that it was as much of a big deal to you, as it was in his head.

Maybe about a year into knowing him, the two of you shared a little moment where your platonic relationship nearly teetered over the edge of what was acceptable. It was after exam week marking was finished, and you had invited Bucky to your place for a change, in order to celebrate. The two of you got inordinately drunk, and had let a little bit too much slip.

"I swear to God, I'd rather keep you and Nat, and get rid of everyone else at that school. The teachers are crazy," Bucky told you, words lisped slightly as he pulled off his shirt. You were both tumbling into your bed to mainly turn in for the night — but you were sure it'd take a while before you actually fell asleep, with the state that both of you were in.

You giggled slightly at his words, already on top of the sheets and blankets, stretching languidly as you waited for him to join you. You were wearing a big shirt, and panties — and it didn't occur to you much your friend wouldn't expect that. It was the easiest solution to your drunken ideas for what you'd wear to bed. "Oh, imagine how I felt before you came!" You explained, not sober enough to hide the way your cheeks flamed red, hand running through your hair as it spread out across the pillows.

Bucky was just in his underwear by that point, stood at the end of your bed while he looked down at you — eyes surprisingly dark despite their blueness. It was the way his pupils dilated, maybe because the only light you had was your beside lamp, maybe because if he could just trick himself for a second, the two of you could've been in a situation with connotations that were a lot different. The way you looked underneath him was utterly captivating, leaning up on your elbow so that you could reach out a hand to him, offering it in order to invite him into the sheets with you. Your legs were bare, barely covered by the blanket as his eyes drifted over you. Most of all, he loved the way you were looking at him. Like he was all you needed in that moment. If Bucky ever wanted to cross over into the non-platonic with you, this situation was making it more difficult by tenfold.

And when he accepted your hand, you pulled him down beside you so that you were facing each other, arms wrapping around his shirtless torso as you sighed with contentment, placing your head against his chest. It shook slightly as he allowed a chuckle to escape him, and you looked up at him with a smile —delighted that you'd made him laugh some how. His grip absently fell around your waist, touch on the small of your back so that he could pull you flush against him. You flustered at his actions, now only a breath apart from each other's lips.

As your vision met his, he felt a swell in his chest, and something that he had been feeling slipped out despite himself, "I'd take you over any of them. You're my girl, you know that?"

"Hm . . . yeah," For all intents and purposes, you were more his than he ever really knew, "I know . . ."

Both of you drifted of to sleep soon after — and never really addressed what he'd meant, or how quickly you agreed with them, even when you woke up still wrapped in one another. And you couldn't stop blushing for an entire week when you saw him between classes (that might have been when the rumpled really gained their traction, too).

That was the first time you became aware of him as something more than a friend (there's been moments before — sure, but nothing quite like that), but you mainly liked to keep that to yourself and bury it away. Bucky, on the other hand, couldn't help but fall even more.

"Well — uh — that night solidified it, yeah. But I liked you way before that," He divulged, looking slightly embarrassed by his feelings. He'd mentioned your name just about all the time to Steve, and at some point he was questioning if you were even real. Your hand, now pressed to his cheek gingerly, thoughtfully, caressing his skin as he admitted his truth — he had to believe it wasn't a dream. Because if it was, he never wanted to wake up.

"I like you too, you know?" You told him, eyes trained on him with an adoring glow. He couldn't hide his smile as he pressed his lips to yours, capturing them in another kiss. Your thumb ran along his jaw, and he melted into the touch, finally knowing that you felt the same way he did after all that time.