like a moth to a flame

by Ninazadzia

Summary:

Bob loves Yelena out loud. The world calls them perfect—the Avengers "Golden Couple."

Bucky knows better—but distance doesn’t stop him from wanting her.

Written for Bucklena Week 2025 – Day Three (Jealous Bucky / Yelena).

"...he seems like he's good for you
And he makes you feel like you should
And all your friends say he's the one
His love for you is true..."

---

The first time I caught Yelena sneaking out of Bob’s room, she froze mid-step—caught off guard, like she hadn’t planned on anyone being awake. Hair a mess, sweatshirt tugged low, every inch of her saying you weren’t supposed to see this.

For a spy, you’re not very slick.

If I liked Yelena less, I would’ve cracked that joke. But one look at her face said it all.

She held my gaze. The silence between us stretched.

One of us had to be the first to break it.

It wasn’t going to be me.

My jaw clenched. Fingers curled tight around my mug.

It hadn’t always felt like this—tense, off-balance.

There’d been a time when she looked at me the way she was looking at him now.

Late nights in the compound kitchen, trading dry jokes over cold coffee. Not flirting, not really. But close enough that it felt like we might’ve, if things had been different.

Don’t say it. Don’t look at her like you want to.

Yelena opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it. All the while, I could feel my blood pressure rising.

Was I surprised?

No.

This just confirmed what I’d already suspected—what I’d noticed weeks ago, that the rest of the team was still (somehow) oblivious to.

Yelena and Bob.

Bob. Robert Reynolds.

Fragile, dangerous, wired-to-detonate Bob.

The long glances. The way they would look at each other, during team debriefs. How their body language shifted when the other was in the room.

Granted—I hadn’t been the only one to notice Bob’s infatuation for Yelena. That much was obvious to everyone on the team—or, anyone with eyes, really.

But Yelena?

She was smart. Knew how to keep her end under wraps—at least, to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. To anyone who wasn’t watching her closely.

But I was.

I don’t know when it started—hell, I don’t even know why it started. I just seemed to always catch myself scanning the room for her, before I even realized it.

I didn’t like it—but I didn’t know how to stop.

And, now? I’d caught her red-handed.

She finally broke the silence.

“Bucky.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. A plea, if anything—and the implication was obvious.

Don’t. Please. Don’t say anything.

I gave her a small nod. “Goodnight.”

I turned on my heel, and swallowed the rest.

Swallowed what I wanted to say—what she already knew.

---

She was never mine to begin with.

In the weeks that came, I had to keep reminding myself of that.

Especially once it went public.

It didn’t stay a secret for long. Not really.

A look held too long during debriefs, her laugh coming easier when he was in the room—little things the others started to notice, the same things I’d seen weeks before. By the time Val got involved, no one was surprised. Not officially, anyway.

Val was the first to make it official, spinning them as the Avengers’  “Golden Couple.”

Cute press photos, offhand interviews, staged-but-not-staged mission shots where Yelena’s hand lingered on Bob’s arm just long enough to sell the story.

The public loved it.

And, to make matters worse—so did the team.

“She’s glowing,” Alexei commented.

The conversation started after Bob and Yelena left the room—headed to some briefing Val had set up, still walking close enough for their hands to brush.

“I’ve gotta admit,” Walker said, leaning back in his chair. “Normally I’m against colleagues dating—it’s a mess waiting to happen. But those two? I get it.”

Ava smirked over the rim of her mug. “Yeah. They work. The PR stuff’s not even exaggerating—they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Alexei scoffed, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “They are beautiful! Like young Natasha and—well, better than Natasha and Banner! She is glowing, no? My little snowflake, happy at last.”

Even Ava didn’t argue with that, just nodded. “Yeah. She does look happy.”

And the worst part was—I understood.

Bob wasn’t perfect. He was messy, wired too tight, his own worst enemy half the time.

But he was honest. Loyal. The kind of guy who’d give you the shirt off his back, and never ask for it back.

And with Yelena? He didn’t hold back. He adored her—openly, stupidly, in a way everyone could see.

I couldn’t do that. Not then. I’d kept my distance, kept my mouth shut, convinced myself I had time.

Bob hadn’t. He shot his shot, and she said yes.

And I couldn’t even be mad at her for it. Not when he made her smile like that.

She used to smile like that at me. Quieter, softer. Nothing staged.

I stayed quiet.

Didn’t add a word to the conversation.

Just clenched my jaw and stared at the table, because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would come out.

She smiled for Bob the same way she smiled for the cameras—bright, easy, like it cost her nothing.

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I was imagining the tension in her shoulders, the way she hovered just close enough to keep him steady.

Everyone else saw a love story.

But, behind her smile—behind Bob’s affection, the adoration—I saw how much weight she was carrying.

And I hated that I saw it. Hated that I cared.

So I bit my tongue, got up, and left before they noticed how quiet I was.

What I didn’t realize—what I couldn’t know—was that Yelena was still in the hallway outside, close enough to hear every word.

And close enough to notice I hadn’t said a thing.

---

The kitchen lights were dim, just the hum of the fridge breaking the silence. She was sitting on the counter, legs swinging idly, mug in her hands.

She didn’t look surprised to see me.

“Hey,” I said, voice low.

“Hey,” she answered, casual, but her eyes flicked up like she’d been waiting.

I went for the coffee pot. I didn’t need it—I hadn’t needed caffeine at this hour in years—but I needed something to do with my hands.

“I, uh…” I cleared my throat. “We caught the PR junket earlier. You guys did good. Looked natural.” I hated how formal it sounded, but anything else felt dangerous to say out loud.

Her brows lifted, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “Just… you sold it. Val must be happy.”

“She is,” Yelena said flatly, taking another sip.

I nodded, focusing on my coffee. It felt stupid to even say it. Complimenting her for looking happy with someone else—someone she actually was with—felt wrong.

And maybe she saw that, because she tilted her head, studying me.

“You were quiet earlier,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Earlier?”

“When everyone was talking about it,” she said, voice still even.

I tried to play dumb. “I wasn’t—”

“I could hear you. From the hallway,” she cut me off. “Walker, Ava, Alexei—everyone else had something to say. You didn’t.”

I shifted my weight, gripping the edge of the counter. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

“Maybe not,” she said, setting her mug down. “But I noticed.”

There was no accusation in her tone, just something curious—searching.

I looked at her then—really looked.

She was in an oversized sweatshirt, hair still damp, makeup washed off. And maybe it was just me, but she looked tired.

“Bob’s… a good guy,” I said finally, as if that explained anything. “You… you looked happy.”

She gave a short laugh, no humor in it. “Yeah. That’s the point, isn’t it? We’re supposed to look happy.”

The words hung between us, heavier than I expected.

And before I could stop myself, I asked, “Are you happy, Yelena?”

Her head jerked up, eyes sharp.

I winced, already backpedaling. “Sorry, you don’t have to— That was a loaded question—”

“No,” she cut me off, her voice firmer now. “Don’t apologize.”

I froze.

“Thank you for asking,” she said, softer this time, almost like she was letting out a breath she’d been holding for weeks. “You’re the only person who has.”

The room went still.

She stared down at her mug, then started talking—fast, almost like she was afraid if she stopped, she’d lose her nerve.

Yelena stared down at her mug, then let out a sharp exhale, words spilling before she could stop them.

“Look—I love Bob. I do. He’s… sweet, funny, we have a lot of fun together. But he’s got a lot of shit he needs to work through, and sometimes it feels like I’m holding him together with tape and prayers. And now with Val and the PR, it’s like—”

She broke off, giving a short, humorless laugh. “The sex is good, though. It’s not all bad.”

I froze. My fingers tightened around the counter before I could stop myself. I didn’t trust my face, so I kept my eyes on the coffee.

The attempt at levity fell flat. She stared down at her mug, shoulders tight.

That’s when she finally caught me.

Her brows knitted, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. “Did I totally overshare just now? Was that… too much?”

I blinked, forcing myself back into the conversation. “No, it’s—”

But she was still looking at me, waiting.

I tightened my grip on the counter, because I couldn’t lie. Not to her.

“Actually… yeah. Yelena, I can’t be the person you talk to about this.”

Her brow furrowed, puzzling over me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, quieter this time.

Like she already half-knew the answer.

I forced myself to meet her eyes, even though it felt like my chest was caving in.

“Because… I’m not impartial, when it comes to this.” My jaw tightened. “I never was.”

The words landed between us, heavier than anything else we’d said.

Yelena blinked, something flickering in her expression—something sharp, then softer, like a realization sliding into place.

“I—” She shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly softer. “Sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to…”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” I said quickly, too quickly. I set my mug down and stepped back, needing to move before I said anything worse.

“Goodnight, Yelena.”

She didn’t answer, not right away.

I left before I could look back, before I could see if she was still watching me.

But I could feel her eyes on me as I walked out—the weight of it lingering long after I was gone.

And Yelena stayed sitting on the counter, fingers tightening around her mug, her cheeks warm as the realization settled in.

---

I tossed and turned for an hour, replaying the kitchen in my head.

Her tired eyes. Her laugh with no humor. “Thank you for asking. You’re the only person who has.”

I couldn’t leave it like that.

Finally, I muttered, “Screw it,” and swung my legs out of bed. I wasn’t sure what I planned to say—just that I couldn’t sit there doing nothing.

I opened the door—and froze.

Yelena stood on the other side, fist raised to knock.

We both stared for a beat.

“You’re awake,” she said first.

“Yeah,” I managed.

“Good,” she said, dropping her hand.

I stepped back, holding the door open. “You want to come in?”

She shook her head. “No. Here’s fine.”

So we stayed in the hallway, her arms crossed loosely, me leaning against the doorframe.

Yelena’s arms stayed crossed, her eyes steady on mine. “How come you aren’t impartial?”

“What, you want a list?” I said before I could stop myself.

She didn’t smile. “No. Just the truth.”

I froze for half a second, then met her gaze. “You already know the answer to that.”

She didn’t push. Just stared at me, and in the silence, something shifted—like she was really thinking about it for the first time.

And for a second, I was back there.

Back to those first weeks when it had just been easy.

Late nights at the compound kitchen, quiet conversations that stretched longer than they should have. The almost-flirting—not quite, not enough to cross a line, but enough that it felt like we were circling each other without meaning to.

I’d told myself I’d imagined that energy. That she hadn’t felt it, not the way I did.

But standing here now, I wasn’t so sure.

Yelena exhaled, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable.

Then, softer: “Well… I guess we’ve got some things we need to figure out then, Bucky.”

My heart skipped, but I kept my voice even. “Yeah? Like what?”

She gave me a look—one I couldn’t easily place.

“Like this,” she said simply.

My heart stuttered.

Her fingers brushed my wrist—barely there, testing.

I didn’t move.

Not yet.

---

"Like a moth to a flame
I'll pull you in, I'll pull you back to what you need initially
It's just one call away
And you'll leave him, you're loyal to me..."

~ moth to a flame by swedish house mafia

Notes:

*very* curious to hear y'alls thoughts about this one - even though I'm a Bucklena shipper through and through, I absolutely f*king adore Bob as a character, and can lowkey understand the appeal of Boblena as a ship, even though it's not my jam.

In any case - I *really* wanted to hold space for Bob and Yelena's friendship/relationship, honor Bob's character, AND - at the same time - show why Bucky is ultimately a better fit for her. Because even though Bob is a lovely person, that doesn't necessarily mean him and Yelena are right for each other.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of bucklena week 2025