Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Language!

Your fingertips drum against the metal table impatiently. What started off as the beat to a Beatles song has now shifted into off-tuned nonsense. The only other noises in the room are the whirring fan above, the slight slurping of Tony drinking his cappuccino, and Steve droning on about another mission. This briefing is just as boring as all the others. You feel sorta bad. You know you should be listening, but listening and note-taking was never your strong subject in school. You just want to get on the field and shoot someone, dammit! Especially someone who deserves it.

You let out an accidentally too loud huff. Steve, who has been trying so hard to get everyone to pay attention (bless his heart), notices your impatience. He stares down at you in that disappointed-fatherly way until you sheepishly smile and look away. You hear him sigh then keep blabbing on.

From your skinny jean pocket beneath the table you feel your iPhone buzz. You try not to make a scene while shimmying it out of the impossibly tight space. You have to bite your lip to keep from grinning too wide as you open and read the message.

Buckster: on a scale from one to ten, how much do you hate this?

There's another one.

Buckster: because I would rather be back in the freezer than sit here another minute and listen to Steve talk about teamwork

You bite down on your knuckle as the only way to keep yourself from cackling. You risk looking across and up the table at Bucky. He's seated just to the side of Steve—his hands beneath the table typing to you and his eyes pretending to be set on Steve. But out of the corner of his vision, he's looking at you. You only know this because he sends you a very discreet wink.

You quickly set to texting him back.

Peaches: I'll gladly join you in the fridge if it means Steve won't keep glaring at me

Bucky tries hard not to smile as your contact name pops up on his screen. Yours is the only name in his phone that isn't the traditional first and last. It all started with an inside joke about a peach pie and a dessert disaster, and the nickname just stuck. Everyone else in the tower sees that there's something different about you to him rather than just a contact name; but you're both in denial.

Buckster: In his defense you are kinda making a bit of noise down there

Peaches: What about Sam?! He keeps talking to himself. At least I'm not doing that

Buckster: Are you sure he's talking? I thought he was practicing his rapping skills.

You glance up the table discreetly to where Sam sits. Sure enough, he's mumbling rhymes to himself while jotting notes down.

Buckster: You did challenge him to a rap-off. He must be prepping.

Peaches: I DID?! When the hell did I do that??

Bucky nearly rolls his eyes.

Buckster: Last week. You were kinda hammered though.

Peaches: Oh yeah I remember that night. I don't remember much after the third fireball shot tho

Buckster: I remember plenty

Peaches: Let's move on from this embarrassing subject lol

Buckster: Why? Don't you wanna know what drunk Y/N likes to talk about?

Peaches: Drunk me is crazy

Buckster: I can't deny that

Bucky briefly thinks back to what you'd said and the compliments you'd brashly shot at him as he'd lugged you away from the party and to the cab. You'd slurred about his body and brains and above all how badly you wanted both of them all to yourself.

He swallows stiffly. Maybe you really don't remember and it'd all been just a fluke, or maybe you do recall and you regret saying those things at all.

You really have no clue.

Peaches: We should get food after this

Bucky shakes his head to draw himself out of the previous thoughtful stupor.

Buckster: Sure. What do you want?

You hum lowly in thought. Steve, who hears the familiar noise, must mistake this as a sign of your participation.

"Thoughts, Y/N?"

Fuck.

Across the table you see Bucky fighting a smirk. Your widened eyes should be a clue-in of your cluelessness, but Steve gestures for you to share.

"I... uh..." You struggle to come up with something good. Eventually you just sigh and admit, "I'm sorry Steve. I was just thinking about Chinese food."

Clint cackles from across the table.

Steve shakes his head. "Y/N, please pay attention."

"I'm pretty hungry though. It's making it hard."

Bruce snorts. You always manage to amuse the doctor.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose in his fingers. "Y/N." His voice is testing and low. He really doesn't want to deal with your bullshit today.

"Sorry, sorry. Briefing now, food later." You give him a thumbs up. "Got it."

Steve waits a moment to gather his thoughts again before going on.

Buckster: Smooth, kid.

Peaches: I know. And he made me lose my appetite for Chinese food.

Peaches: I want sandwiches now

Buckster: Subway?

Peaches: No, somewhere good.

Buckster: Subway is great what the hell

Peaches: I want like a GOOD sandwich—like a ma and pop deli where they have big floppy pickle spears and over-salted kettle chips and where they play weird alternative music that they think their grandkids listen to

Bucky shakes his head with a low chuckle.

Buckster: Very specific, but okay. We'll go wherever you want

You can't stop the smile from crossing your lips. Bucky is just lucky enough to glance over at you to see it. His heart skips a beat. His chest hurts and his head throbs while his fingers shake over the keypad.

Without being able to stop himself, he presses send.

Buckster: You're so damn cute

When you read the text, your smile immediately falters. Bucky sees your shift and regrets ever texting you at all—but little does he know, you're just in shock. Is he being serious now? Does Bucky think you're... cute?!

Peaches: really?

Buckster: Well, yeah.

Buckster: Sorry I didn't mean to weird you out.

Buckster: I just felt the need to tell you

Peaches: No, no. I'm not weirded out.

Peaches: Just confused I guess.

Bucky's eyebrows gnarl.

Buckster: Confused? Why?

Peaches: do you mean cute like, 'oh my god that puppy is so cute' or like 'Harry Styles is so cute omfg' or like 'aww that baby is so so cute I could just eat it up'??

Buckster:...

Buckster: Y/N, I don't understand.

You're nearly biting your nails in anticipation. His typing bubble hasn't gone away. He's still texting a reply...

Buckster: I mean that you're cute as in I love that when you smile your nose crinkles and your eyes close a little bit but you keep smiling harder and eventually you laugh and it makes me want to laugh, too.

Fuck—he can't believe he really just sent that.

Fuck—you cannot BELIEVE HE REALLY JUST SENT THAT!

Peaches: Buck that was the sweetest thing anyone's literally ever said to me

Peaches: Thank you

Buckster: no, no I'm sorry.

You frown.

Peaches: No??

Buckster: Fuck, no not like that. I mean I should've really had the balls and patience to say it to you in person but idk

Peaches: its fine Buck it's not a big deal. It's just a compliment. I appreciate it either way :)

Buckster: Yeah, but it's not just a compliment, Y/N. It's kinda a lot more than that.

Your eyebrows furrow once more.

Peaches: And by that you mean...?

"Y/N put your phone away or so help me god!"

You startle and squeal—tossing the phone onto the table where everyone catches you texting red-handed. Thank GOD no one can read the screen as it turns dark.

"Steve! I'm sorry! It was really important..."

Steve silences you with an eye roll. "Really?" He looks at Bucky as if to further explain. "Wanna share with the class what's so important, Buck?"

Bucky's gone pale, as have you.

"Well?" Tony's voice sounds, and he sounds smug as shit. "Are you two texting secrets or what?"

"Yeah—read 'em out loud, Mr. Rogers!" Clint jeers.

"Shut up, Katniss," you hiss across the table to him.

Steve, ignoring everyone else, is now looking at Bucky with a raised brow. "Well? You got something to say? If you do, better say it now."

Bucky takes a hard swallow. "No. It was nothing important."

He doesn't miss the way your face falls from across the table. He sees your posture slack slightly and how you start staring down at your thumbs.

Fuck, he thinks. He's not going to be able to get out of this one, is he?

Yeah, he's pretty screwed.

"Actually," Bucky suddenly changes his mind. Your eyes peer up at him once more with a glimmer of curiosity to them. "That's a lie. There's something important that I do need to say."

Your heart leaps up to your throat.

"Go on," Steve ushers him forth—almost as if he knows exactly where this is going to lead. There's a sly smile tugging at his pale lip.

Bucky, who has never been one for talking let alone in front of a crowd, clears his throat nervously. He's got to do this, he tells himself. He needs to tell you now. There's no better time.

"Y/N," he begins. You nod softly—egging him on. He forces himself to focus on your eyes and your eyes only. Pretending that you're the only person in the room helps his deep voice to even out in tone. "Y/N, I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this for a while now, but every time I do I come up with some lame ass excuse as to why I shouldn't. But I'm done doing that. So anyway, my point is, is that I really fucking like you. Like, a lot. An insane amount, really, and I don't even know what to do with myself or any of these feelings. All I really know is that I'm crazy about you." He finishes his rant with a deep breath. "There." He sits back down and stares at the tabletop. "That's all I have to say."

You stare wide-eyed and shell-shocked at the top of Bucky's head. Your heart is thundering in your ears and your tummy is twisted inside out. You can hardly believe what you've just heard. It's like your dream come true.

"Alright, thanks for that Buck. I think I can speak on behalf of everyone here that we've been waiting a hell of a long time for you to actually say that out loud." Steve smirks before clearing his throat and picking up his clipboard. "Anyway, I'll let you two work that out later, getting your damn Chinese food or whatever, but for right now we need to talk Paris..."

You tune Steve out completely. You keep staring at Bucky, not even caring who sees (and they all do—you can feel them watching) and almost want to cry at all of the overwhelming emotions. All positive things, but now you just feel flustered that you can't say your thoughts right back.

Someone to your side gives your arm a gentle nudge. You look to your right and see Nat there with your cell phone in her hands. She discreetly passes it into your lap without ever looking disengaged from Steve's elongated lecture. When you smile at her, she only manages a sly little wink.

Bucky's phone lights up. Cautiously, almost afraid of what to see, he reads the screen. It's your turn to admire his smile now as his pretty blue irises take in the message.

Peaches: Buck? I really fucking like you, too.