Chapter Text
You think the devil has horns?
Well, so did I
But I was wrong
His hair is combed and he wears a suit and tie
He’s nice
Polite
He’ll catch you by surprise
A smile so bright
You never bat an eye…
-“Devil in Disguise” by Marino
Of all the people you ever expected to walk into a custom suit store, two superheroes sure as hell weren’t whom you’d expected.
You’d been a sales associate for a premiere men’s suit store in D.C. for the last seven years. True, you were used to celebrities—mostly politicians, but a few actors had popped through every once in a blue moon—but the day that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes and Captain America himself Sam Wilson stopped in certainly took the cake.
“Welcome to Broly’s Custom Suit Store,” you chirped automatically as you tucked a re-folded shirt back into the wall after hearing the doorbell jingle. You stood up on the last step of a stool to get it into overstock, thinking nothing of new customers until you heard a very familiar voice call out to you.
“Hope we’re not interrupting,” Sam Wilson said, a friendly grin on his face as he clapped the shoulder of the ex-assassin beside him. Your jaw didn’t just drop; it plummeted to the floor. Years of working in DC and you’d not so much as spotted a stray feather from the Falcon, let alone ever glimpsing the other infamous Super Soldier. In fact, it shocked you so bad that you turned around too fast and overbalanced.
And it turned out Sergeant Barnes had good reflexes.
You barely got out a yelp as you tipped over on the ladder, but then two twin pythons of insane strength cushioned you long before you could hit the ground. You landed in Bucky’s arms upright, your front crushed to his chest, suddenly blinking down at his thick lashes and stubble from inches away. He seemed to have done it on pure instinct, as he looked nearly as surprised to be so close to you at your first meeting. He smelled like leather and aftershave, intoxicating up close. You gulped. “H-Hi, sergeant. Nice to…meet you?”
He then relaxed in a soft smile as he lowered you safely to the carpeted floor of the store. “Nice to meet you too, girlie. Maybe be a little more careful on that ladder, hmm?”
“I-I will, I’m so sorry—”
He sent you a stern look. “Hey. That wasn’t hostility, so don’t apologize. Happens to the best of ‘em.”
“I cannot tell you how many times I’ve fallen off of shit doing this Cap job,” Sam said gravely, which made you giggle and blush a bit.
“Well, thank you for saying so. Welcome in. What can I help you gentlemen with today?”
Sam jostled Bucky’s shoulder again. “The grumpy cyborg here decided he’s gonna run for Congress, which means he can’t be out here in those cheap hundred dollar suits you get off the rack at Nordstrom. He needs custom suits, at least three, and a tuxedo. I know damn well his proportions aren’t going to match anything store bought, so I wanted to take him in for a custom job. I’ve heard fantastic things about this place from some friends in high places, so you’re our first choice.”
“I’d be glad to help get him fitted. And you’re absolutely right—I can tell you right now he’d be in a suit separate if he went off the rack, and it probably still wouldn’t fit him.”
Bucky arched an eyebrow. “Suit separate?”
“Yes,” you said as you hunted for a tape measure and then looped it around your neck. “Most suits are sold in a fixed size of the jacket and pants with the ‘usual’ measurements for the average man. Anyone with a wide chest, but a narrow waist would have to buy a suit where we match the jacket size to the matching pants size. It happens most often with athletes and actors since you guys don’t have the same proportions as the average man. Sam, for instance, would likely be a suit separate because his form is closer to, let’s say, the build of a runner or a soccer player. Your build is enhanced by the serum, so it means your proportions are probably too specific for anything I already have here.”
Sam whistled. “Girl already knows her stuff. I like it. I’m glad we can skip the backstory catching you up since it sounds like you’re familiar.”
“Oh, big time. I watched the documentary they made last year. Good stuff. You’ve both done incredible service to your country and I admire you immensely for it. Three suits and a tuxedo should be no problem. Do you have a budget in mind?”
“Yes.” Sam gave you a round number and you scribbled it on the edge of the tailor card.
“That’s an excellent budget, so let’s start working on swatches for the three suits. I’d recommend a blue, a grey, and a black, but the third color can be anything you like, sergeant.”
“Bucky,” he said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. His tone was soft and reserved, but friendly. “Don’t have to use my title, s’okay. Black’s fine—”
“Black is not fine,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “He wears too much black as it is. I agree with blue and grey, but we’re putting him in another color for the last one. I’d say khaki or burgundy.”
You beamed then. “Oh, Sam. He’d look ravishing in burgundy.”
Bucky cracked a smile, chuckling. “Ravishing, wow. Ain’t heard that one in a while.”
You giggled as you beckoned them over to the presentation table, bringing over the heavy folder of swatches with you. “This is basically all of the suit designs we have available, but if you hate every single one, I can pull more off the website. Look through them and pick your top three in blue and grey, then I’ll start your measurements so we can get the suit custom made at the warehouse and then shipped here.”
His brows rose as he noticed just how thick the booklet of swatches happened to be. “Shit, that’s a lot. Dunno that I need that many.”
“Well, there’s no rush and we want it to be something you like to wear, not us.”
He frowned. “Trust me, if it was my choice, I wouldn’t be in a suit at all.”
“Exactly,” Sam said, nudging his friend over to open the folder. “Which is why I tagged along at all. This man one-hundred percent would just pick all black suits like a damn bodyguard. He doesn’t get that politics is all optics, no matter how annoying it is. If you show up in a cheap suit, they’ll eat you alive.”
“Sadly, he is right,” you said, smiling sympathetically. “Most of the clients we get in are politicians that need to look spiffy before heading to Capitol Hill. Sorry, but it is the nature of the beast.”
Bucky sighed. “I know. I signed up for this crap, so nobody to blame but me. Sam, do your thing. You’ll know what I look good in; I sure as hell don’t anymore.”
“Gotcha, playa!” Sam cackled as he flipped through the book, of course picking a magenta suit that made Bucky roll his eyes. He then quit teasing him and offered me three blue shades: one bright navy, one true navy with a faint pale green pinstripe, and then a baby bird one that Bucky immediately balked at.
“Come on,” Bucky groaned. “That’s gonna show every single stain.”
“Then don’t eat in it,” Sam said, holding the swatch over Bucky’s head when he tried to snatch it. “Buck, trust me. You will look incredible in that shade, man.”
“He’s right.”
Bucky’s head then turned to face you. “Huh?”
You smiled shyly. “I mean it. You’d look amazing. It’s just a swatch; it really doesn’t give you the full effect of how it would look, which is fantastic.”
He scowled, squinting at you in disbelief. “Nu-uh.”
You laughed then. “Okay, fine, so you’re a very visual person. One second.”
You went over to the tuxedo rental jackets to the left and hunted until you found a pale blue jacket that was at least close to Bucky’s size and selected it. He made that same grumpy face when you held it out. “Go on, try it.”
“No.”
“Bucky,” Sam said, glaring. “Quit being mean to her or I’ll pop you one, so help me God.”
He growled and groaned, but forced himself to remove the leather jacket. It left him in a black t-shirt with the Harley Davidson logo in white across his massively impressive pecs. You went behind him and helped him into the jacket, then nudged him over to take a look in the full length mirror that led into the fitting room. They’d both come during a popular lunch hour, so they were the only men in the store for now. Your relief would get here at two o’clock when it would start to get busy again.
Bucky stopped as he saw himself in the mirror, clearly puzzled that the robin’s egg blue looked good on a man that had probably only ever worn black, blue, and dark grey his entire life. You tried to stifle a giggle as you patted his shoulder. “See? It makes your eyes and your hair pop nicely.”
He glanced down at you. “Is it…supposed to do that?”
“Yes. Trust the process, Bucky. I promise we’ll have you looking like new money.”
Again, he scowled, but then he sighed and caved in. “Alright, alright, fine. But if it gets here and I look like a fucking peacock in it, I’m saying no.”
“You won’t, I promise.” You put the tuxedo jacket back and then Sam gave you the three shades of grey: charcoal, dark grey sharkskin, and a pale granite color. Bucky still complained about the lighter shade, but not nearly as much.
“Burgundy’s not a common off the rack color, so I’m just going to go with the single shade we have in the swatch book and then he can say yay or nay when it arrives,” you explained, setting that one aside with the others. “Let’s take a look at the tux jacket styles and then I’ll get you measured.”
The tuxedo would be easiest, since all he had to do was pick the jacket type and lapel designs and color of any additional clothing. Most men rented them, but a Congressman would certainly be invited to enough white tie events that renting it over and over would get old quick. It was an expensive thing to own, but the good news was it lasted a long time when cared for nicely.
“Double-breasted or single?” you asked.
Bucky just stared. Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Double-breasted jacket is the kind you would have worn back in the forties; single-breasted is what most guys nowadays wear, caveman.”
“Oh.” Bucky seemed to weigh that in his mind. “I kinda miss vintage suits. Let’s go with double.”
“Got it.” You pointed to the three of them on the rack. “Notch, peak, or shawl lapel?”
He squinted harder. “Does it matter?”
“It might if you want to have a boutonniere or something.”
“The hell is that?”
Sam sighed. “The flower that goes on your lapel, caveman. Give ‘er a break.”
“Nah, probably not.”
“That’s fine, then we’ll do the shawl. Now comes the fun part.” You brandished the tape measure like a garrote, adopting a playful look. “Time to get those measurements, sir.”
“Oh, now, I’m a sir, hmm?” he said, rolling his eyes, but smirking to show he was kidding. “Wonder why that is…”
“Shush or you’re getting popped with a yard stick.”
He chuckled. “Yes ma’am. So what do I do?”
“I’ll walk you through it.” You then leveled a look at Sam before actually touching him. “Does he have a thing about being touched?”
“Yes,” Sam said, then winked. “But not when it’s a pretty girl.”
Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Goddamn it, Samuel.”
“What? You gonna tell me you don’t, grumpypants?”
“You’re the worst.”
You giggled. “Well, either way, I’m going to start with your neck, arms, shoulders, chest, and waist. That alright with you?”
“If you must,” he deadpanned. “How do you need me to stand after I’m done strangling him to death?”
You giggled harder. “Just hands by your sides at first.”
You looped it around his throat for his neck measurement, then scribbled that down on the tailor measurement card. His cheeks tinted just a little bit red when you first brushed him with your fingertips, but he didn’t flinch or try to resist. He did seem just grumpy instead of actually mean; you’d had a boatload of rude and mean customers by now, so you knew the difference.
You stepped behind him and placed the end of the tape measure at the base of his nape. His hair was incredibly soft and thick against your fingers as you then traced the tape down the back of his arm to his wrist, and then giggled harder when it made him dance around a little. “Oh no. The good sergeant is ticklish, I take it?”
“Repeat that to anyone and I’ll end you both,” he growled but without actual heat to show he was joking. “S’not my fault. You have…soft hands.”
“Yes, her soft hands made you ticklish,” Sam tittered, shaking his head. “You’re a whole mess, Barnes.”
“Whatever, man. For all you know, the serum did it.”
You chuckled as you measured his wrist. “Are you two always like this?”
“Yep,” they said in unison.
“Good to know. I’ve been warned. Alright, sir, make like Jesus.”
Bucky raised his arms into a T-pose. You measured his chest, then his waist and had to suppress a brief moment of thirst at how attractively narrow his waist was compared to his chest. “Mm.”
Bucky craned his neck, giving you a suspicious side eye. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He scowled again. “Out with it, girlie.”
“Nothing,” you insisted, but then he went to pinch you and you squeaked, escaping out of range. “Okay, okay, it’s just…”
You blushed. “You have a nice drop.”
“Drop?” Bucky echoed.
“Drop is the measurement difference from your chest to your waist,” Sam explained, grinning widely as he knew exactly what you were getting at. “For example, Steve has an insane fucking drop, where the difference between his chest and his waist is huge, and you’re not that far off. It’s a compliment.”
His brows rose in surprise. “So instead of nice ass…nice drop?”
Sam rolled his eyes for the millionth time. “Goddamn caveman. She’s being nice.”
“Oh.” He glanced at you. “Thanks for saying I have a nice…drop.”
“You’re welcome,” you said, laughter in your throat. “Now, have you ever had your in-seam measured before?”
“No,” he said bluntly. “Why?”
You cleared your throat and willed yourself not to blush. “I mention it as some men find it…off-putting or embarrassing if measured by a woman.”
“Why?” he asked, mystified.
“It’s your crotch measurement, dude,” Sam volunteered. “It means she has to get on one knee in front of your…area. She’s just getting consent before she heads in that direction.”
Bucky’s brows shot up again. “What? I’m not making her do that, the hell.”
“It’s part of my job,” you said as delicately as possible. “It won’t bother me, but I don’t want it to bother you either. I can either have you do it and tell you how or we can just get it over with real quick.”
He shifted his weight uncomfortably, hands on those narrow hips, seeming at war with himself. “Can I do it…wrong?”
“Well, it would just mean the tailor lets it out a little more when you arrive for the first fitting.”
He chewed his bottom lip. “You…sure it’s not gonna…bug you?”
“It won’t,” you said gently. “I’ve worked here for seven years, Bucky. I’ll be fine.”
He blushed then. “Just don’t want it to bother you, that’s all. I’m…fine, you can…go ahead, I guess.”
Bucky pointedly stared at a spot on the wall as you lowered to one knee with the tape measure and rather carefully measured his in-seam using a light touch. That said, the way he shifted his hips away when you went down on one knee told you everything and you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from a shy smile at the very small hint he was attracted to you. You’d wear that feather in your cap for just about the rest of your natural born life.
“I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry you have to do that all the time,” he said when you were done, offering his hand to pull you to your feet again, which was kind of him. Most guys didn’t do that. “Can’t imagine any of these DC guys don’t make inappropriate comments about it.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we have something for that,” you confessed with a chuckle as you scribbled the measurement on the card. “It’s called ‘my tailor is a big scary Samoan and any guy that tries to hit on me using the in-seam measurement gets measured by him instead.’”
Sam whistled. “Samoan? Hell yeah. I knew I was gonna like this place. I’m so glad he does that for you. I was gonna offer if you didn’t have it handled already.”
You laughed. “I’d love to call up Cap to come smack around my rude clients. Don’t leave your number here or I’ll take you up on the offer.”
He winked. “Anytime, baby cakes. Alright, so what’s left?”
You cleared your throat. “Ah, I do have one more awkward measurement to take, unfortunately.”
“Oh God, now what?” Bucky asked, but you could hear the humor in it.
You tried to keep a straight face. “Well, Bucky, most of the men that come in here aren’t particularly…blessed in one area that you happen to be blessed in ample amounts.”
He stared. “Huh?”
You glanced at Sam. “I have absolutely no idea how to tell him this appropriately. Please save me.”
“She means your ass,” Sam said bluntly, enough that you wheezed at how blunt he’d been. “Most white guys have no ass. You have an onion booty by comparison, so she needs to measure the onion booty.”
“Onion booty?!” Bucky yelped, whirling around in disbelief. “Onion?!”
Sam chuckled, shrugging. “Hey, can’t lie on my man. It’s a nice caboose.”
Bucky sighed haggardly and buried his burning face behind his Vibranium hand. “I’m gonna kill you. I swear, I’m gonna kill you.”
“Got it. She still needs an answer, dude.”
“I hate you.” Bucky straightened, then jabbed a thumb at Sam. “Him, not you. I know you’re just doing your job. Yes, that’s…whatever. Go ahead.”
You rolled your lips inward to hide a grin. “Mmkay.”
“Don’t you start too,” Bucky grumbled as you went behind him one last time and looped the tape measure around his hips, then simply slid it down.
You wrote the measurement down and then spread your hands. “There. Hard part’s over.”
Sam smirked. “Relatively speaking.”
Bucky pointed at him that time. “Dead, you hear me? Soon as we leave.”
Sam cackled. “Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time, cyborg. Now, my lovely lady, about how long for the suits to come in?”
“One second.” You walked over to the output calendar and counted the time. “Typically, it’s fourteen business days, but I might be able to get it to you in twelve if I mention you’re an Avenger.”
Sam clapped his hands to his heart as he followed you the counter so you could tally up an estimate for them. “Two weeks? I can’t go that long without you, boo.”
You laughed. “Then come visit on my lunch hour one day. I absolutely wanna brag about you to my friends, family, and other coworkers.”
“You got yourself a bet, cutie pie. But we’ll fix that for you right now.” He grabbed Bucky and tugged him to the other side of you, lifting up his phone with a huge grin. It wasn’t hard at all to smile for the group selfie, not after Bucky’s chest and side briefly met with yours and he felt so warm and strong next to you that you nearly swooned. “Bam! Money shot! What’s your number, cutie? I’ll text it to ya.”
“Thank you so much.” You told him the number and a moment later, your phone buzzed with the selfie in a text message. “You guys have been my best clients ever, trust me. I’ll let you know when the suits come in so we can get our man fitted and dapper for those annoying bastards on Capitol Hill.”
“Tell me about it,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “Thanks for making this…as painless as possible, not counting having to deal with this jerk.”
He jabbed a thumb at Sam again. “They let you have tips at this job?”
“Sadly, no, but we do work on commission with base pay, so…” You smiled shyly as you passed him the estimate slip. “…just make sure you come pick ‘em up and pay for them and I’ll be all set.”
He smiled slowly, softly, in a way that made your knees weak. “I’ll be sure to do that, girlie. Take it easy, huh? Don’t do anymore in-seam measurements or just call me the next time you get one so I can supervise.”
You laughed again, your cheeks burning for two reasons. “You have my solemn word I’ll never measure another in-seam without my watchdog present to protect me from shitty men.”
Bucky chuckled softly. “Good. I’ll find another way to thank you when I come back. Be good ‘til then.”
You grinned wolfishly. “I make no such promises.”
He paused, then the smirk widened, his wintry eyes gleaming with mischief. “Then me neither. See you later, girlie.”
“Bye, fellas.”
They both waved and then left the suit store. You waited a whole forty-five seconds before snatching up your cell phone and immediately calling your best friend. “Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch, you’ve got to hear what the hell just happened to me!”
Chapter 2
Summary:
Bucky's custom suits have come in, so it's time for a fitting and to mark them for alterations, so Sam and Bucky return to your shop.
Notes:
Fun fact: the big box suit stores don't do the in-seam measurement for the exact reasons she points out in the fic--it's awkward and more often than not, the man is going to say something inappropriate, so they don't do it. We've added it here for story and for custom suits, which is factual. However, big box stores ARE required by the company to measure you for a suit even if you never buy from them, but since she's in a private store, she's able to refuse. I'm tossing that in case any of you sell suits and know I'm lying for the sake of the fic. xD
Enjoy, thirst buckets!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You can either sink, swim, or be the Captain
Get the last word
I'mma get the last slap in
Now, they say, "Jidenna, why you dressin' so classic?"
I don't want my best dressed day in a casket!
You can either, follow, or get out the way
Make a fuckin' move
And we'll make my fuckin' day
-"Long Live the Chief" by Jidenna
Since you had a literal magical afternoon with Sam and Bucky, you knew the day they were set to return would unfortunately be complete and total swamp ass. The law of averages demanded you not only get a jerk, but an unholy annoying jerk the same day you knew they’d come in to do the first of Bucky’s fittings now that the custom suits had arrived on day twelve as requested.
The doorbell jingled and you let out your usual fake friendly greeting, turning at the counter to find one of the worst kinds of clients. He was around your age, but slightly older, his brown hair gelled back, a Bluetooth ear piece, wearing a black suit with a red tie. The combo nearly made you groan; almost any guy wearing it was a douche-canoe by default. Long story, but the color combination was often lethal and meant the guy wearing it was a jackass due to believing the old saying that it was a “powerful look.” His black suit was high end, but he didn’t appear to take much care of it since you spotted wrinkles here and there. He was still yapping on the headset when he finally made it to the counter and sized you up like a side of beef.
“Hello, sir, what can I—” He interrupted you by holding up a finger, spouting more to the person on the other line. You suppressed the urge to growl and kept your face blank until he finished the call and hung up. He looked you up and down again, lingering on your chest. Since Bucky and Sam would be by, you’d decided to dress a little nicer today; you wore a metallic navy dress with black rose patterns all over along with your usual cushion-heeled flats as well as light makeup and jewelry. You looked just a bit softer and spiffy, but without trying too hard. Sadly, it seemed to be an effective look based on how this creep was ogling you.
“What can I help you with today, sir?” you asked again patiently, despite feeling the opposite of patience with this man already.
“I need my measurements for a tuxedo rental,” he said, then adopted a sleazy grin. “I take it you’re the one that’ll be servicing me today?”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Yes, sir, that’s fine. What’s your name and wedding party?”
“Oh, it’s not for a wedding with your company,” he said airily, dismissing your question. “It’s the Mayor’s wedding. Handled by a suit company way above your paygrade.”
You frowned. “Then why come here?”
“Someone said any moron at any suit store can take mine and just write it out for me. You’re the closest to my penthouse, so that’s why I’m here. Any more questions?”
You exhaled through your nose. “Store policy is measurements are for our customers only.”
He stared at you with irritation. He then reached over and placed a single pocket square on the counter. “Then I’ll buy this and be a customer.”
Again, the urge to roll your eyes was massive. The guy’s suit had to be five digits in cost, but he’d bought the cheapest thing the store sold just to “count” as a customer. You were such a lucky gal to get this damn charmer today. You rang him out for it, then beckoned him to stand beside the counter. You took out the tape measure and went as fast as humanly possible to just be done with someone so annoying.
After you finished his out-seam measurement, you handed him the measurement chart, but he didn’t take it. The sleazy grin returned instead. “What about my in-seam?”
“We don’t do that here,” you said without batting an eyelash.
“Yes, you do.” He pointed to the chart. “It’s on here.”
“That measurement is only required for a custom suit made in our store, sir.”
“Who says I didn’t want one of your custom suits?”
“You did, when you walked in here and said this is for the Mayor’s wedding.”
His jaw twitched. “I want my in-seam measurement.”
You offered him the tape measure just to make his face even redder. You kept your face nice and friendly and blank to further irritate him into finally leaving, but you must have touched a nerve.
“Fine,” he sneered, whipping out his phone. “Guess I’ll just tell the Mayor on X that this suit store doesn’t want to properly serve its customers and we’ll see about that—”
“Sir, your in-seam measurement is forty-one,” you finally snapped, pushed past the point of polite customer service once he started waving around threats. “There. Now you have it.”
He glared. “You’re guessing.”
“No, I’m not. Your in-seam measurement is simply 25% of your out-seam measurement. I know how to do simple math, sir; I’m not guessing.”
The man finally took a step toward you, but it wasn’t terribly effective seeing as he wasn’t very tall. “I said…measure my in-seam. You gonna do your job or not?”
“How ‘bout not?” came an angry male voice with a Brooklyn accent from the direction of the door.
The man yelped in shock as Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes materialized in the doorway like a knight in shining armor. You nearly wept at the sight of him, as you’d been about to lose your temper with this fucking prick and didn’t want to lose your job over it. Bucky wore a burgundy t-shirt, black jeans, and boots, no jacket this time, which left those bulging biceps totally visible as he strode towards you with a quick, irritated strut.
“What the hell do you care, bro?” the guy snarled. “Mind your damn business.”
“What do I care?” Bucky snapped, gently nudging you behind him and towering over the creep. “I’m her fucking boyfriend; that’s why I care.”
He grabbed a handful of his shirt and held him off the floor by an inch with his Vibranium hand. “Next time a woman tells you no…”
Bucky leaned in a bit to let the last few furious words hit. “Fucking listen to her. Now get out and don’t come back, shithead.”
He dropped the guy to the linoleum. The man stumbled, ashen-faced, then grabbed the measurement card and hurried out the door without another word. He’d even dropped the Bluetooth device in his haste. Bucky watched him scurry away like a lion that had let an antelope go, then he stooped and tossed the Bluetooth device in the trash where it belonged. Good. A costly mistake on the douchebag’s part at that.
“Sorry,” he said as he turned to you, the anger now gone, friendly concern in its place. “I know that was out of line, but I fucking hate guys like him. I know you had it handled, but you shouldn’t have to take out the trash. That’s why guys like me exist in the first place.”
“Guys like what?” I teased. “Heroes?”
He scoffed. “I’m definitely no hero, but us roughnecks are supposed to fight for cutie pies. Not that you can’t. I just mean I’d rather get my hands dirty than make you do it, if that’s okay.”
You smiled. “He was about to get kneed in the crotch, so he should be happy you just scared him half to death. He’s double lucky my tailor is out to lunch or he’d rock his shit for trying to pressure me into it.”
Bucky shook his head. “Only reason I didn’t is you’re here. If we were alone…asshole would have gone right into the Potomac wearing cement slippers.”
You laughed then. “Oh God, old school mob boss shit? I like it. Nice and cruel. We’re gonna get along great, sarge.”
“I told him you would,” Sam Wilson said, beaming as he entered the store behind his friend. “Hey, cutie pie! Did you miss us?”
“Sam,” Bucky growled, glaring, but Sam just chuckled. Sam wore a camel coat over spiffy brown checkered pants and a white button-up shirt, still as bubbly as the last time you’d see him.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, grumpypants,” Sam said. “So what was ol’ boy running from? I passed him on the sidewalk. Dude looked like he’d seen a ghost.”
“Oh, just another charming gentleman trying to demand that I do his in-seam,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I straightened him out before Bucky did, but Bucky made a compelling argument for the guy to leave, thank God.”
Sam shook his head. “Men ain’t shit. We ain’t shit.”
You chuckled. “Men, no. But you two are alright, so it balances out.”
“It doesn’t, but thanks anyway; you’re sweet,” Bucky said, smiling softly. “Everything came in okay?”
“Yep. I’ve got you situated in the first booth. Now, I took the liberty of assembling some accessories, but no pressure if you don’t want those pieces as well. It’s best to do the fitting with the accessories so everything fits the way it should when you’re ready to wear them. Follow me, please.”
You took them around the wall to the fitting rooms. There were six total—three on each side of the room—and two three-tiered mirrors for observing the tailoring. You gestured to the first booth on the right. “What’s your shoe size?”
“Twelve.”
“Got it.” You went to the wall and grabbed a pair of brown and then one pair of black dress shoes. “Alright, let’s give it a whirl, sarge.”
He saluted you, then took the shoes inside the booth with him. Sam folded his arms and stood by you, grinning fiendishly. “Aight, takin’ a bet on which one he puts on first. Go.”
You chuckled, tapping your chin in thought. “Mm…my guess is the navy pin-stripe. I think he’ll leave the tuxedo for last.”
“Good guess. Hmm…I’m gonna go with…charcoal. Looks closest to black.”
“Good guess. What are the stakes?”
“Mm, let’s call it lunch. You win and we buy. I win and you buy.”
You grinned and stuck out your hand. “Got yourself a bet, sir.”
He shook it. “I knew you’d be big fun when I met you. They’re lucky to have you.”
“Oh, stop,” you said, nudging his arm with your shoulder as you blushed. “It’s easy to be fun when you’re with fun customers. Don’t get ‘em a lot, but I love it when I do.”
“Y’hear that, cyborg?” Sam called out mockingly. “She loves us. Loves. How come she can say that to me after meeting me twice and you can’t say it once after I saved that onion booty about a thousand times?”
“Leave her alone, Samuel,” Bucky shot back irritably. “She’s easy to love. You ain’t.”
He sighed. “You suck, Buck. So much. This is why I hang out with Torres instead.”
You giggled. “I take it the sergeant is not the most verbally affectionate man in your life.”
“Not even close. He won’t even say it on his deathbed, I bet.”
“How ‘bout I say it on your deathbed in ten minutes when I strangle you?” Bucky threatened. “Leave her alone, Sam. She’s got enough to deal with without us adding to her plate.”
“It’s all in good fun, sarge,” you said reassuringly. “I’m having a marvelous time, I swear.”
“Alright, but the second he gets annoying, tell me. Been lookin’ for an excuse to yeet him into oncoming traffic for the last week.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever, grumpypants. Let’s see that suit already.”
“Yeah, yeah, hang on…” The door to the booth swung open and then Bucky appeared with a surly look.
In the navy pinstriped suit with a pale green dress shirt.
“Damn it!” Sam groaned while you cheered. “I was this close.”
Bucky sent you both a mystified look. “Do I even wanna know?”
“You and I are paying for lunch, so no,” Sam grumbled. “But hey, at least you look good in the suit.”
“Do I?” Bucky asked, glancing down. “Feel like a monkey in this damn thing.”
“You are far from it, sir,” you said, gently guiding him over to the three-tiered mirror. “I’m going to check how it fits and mark places to be taken in or out with chalk. That alright with you? I have to touch you kind of a lot.”
“S’okay,” he said. “Just…tell me how to stand, I guess.”
“Just hands at your side, that’s all.” When you stepped close, you got a whiff of his cologne and nearly sighed wistfully. Calvin Klein cologne nearly always made a man smell irresistible and he’d picked just the right scent. He was more than a snack—the man was a veritable buffet, and he looked even hotter in the pinstripes than in his slutty ass t-shirt and jeans. You did your absolute best trying not to ogle him as you checked the fabric across the back of his shoulders, then the length of his sleeves, the fit at the edge of his shoulders, and so on and so forth.
Bucky mostly watched the reflection, but he couldn’t help glancing down when you returned to in front of him to check his collar and the ends of his sleeves. “Nice dress.”
You smiled bashfully. “Thank you.”
He smirked. “Wear that for me?”
You sent him a haughty look of challenge. “Did you wear that burgundy t-shirt for me?”
He blushed then. You chuckled. “See? I can give the sass right back, Sergeant Sassypants.”
“That you can,” he mused. “Gotta watch my mouth around you, apparently.”
“How come I never get those privileges?” Sam wondered.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “You don’t look half as cute in a dress, that’s why.”
Sam grinned. “Wanna bet?”
You cackled. “Oh God, we need to turn you two into a drivetime radio show or something. You’re ridiculous, I swear.”
You then stepped back a bit. “Alright, Sam, take a look. I think we should lengthen his sleeves a little and take in the waist, then let out the seat.”
Sam walked over and circled Bucky, nodding. “Yep, same, nailed it. I’ll try and get him to wear this one with brown shoes if he likes it, but you know him and colors.”
“I think the green is a nice change of pace for him,” you said as you brushed lint off those broad shoulders from behind him. “I think it’s nice with his hair and eye color, but not too intimidating.”
“I need to be less intimidating?” Bucky asked dryly. “Wasn’t aware.”
“Grumpy ass,” Sam said. “Aight, go get the next one while I call in our lunch order. What are you in the mood for, cutie pie?”
“Mm…how about…cheesesteaks?”
“Great choice. I’ll be back in a sec.” Sam then winked. “Don’t behave at all while I’m gone?”
“Oh, no plans to behave whatsoever,” you said sweetly. He chuckled and then walked around the corner to find a quiet spot to call in the delivery order.
“Before you ask,” Bucky said, amusement in his tone. “Yes, he’s always like that.”
“Hey, I love extroverts,” you admitted. “Means I do less talking.”
“True.”
“Now then, last thing about your pants is called a break. Break is just how much of the pants leg cloth rests on your shoe.” You lifted the overly-long pants leg until you could demonstrate. “If you want a lot of fabric, it’s called a full break. Then there’s a half break, quarter break, or no break at all.”
“I cannot think of anything I care less about,” he deadpanned, and you giggled.
“I know, but custom suits mean you do have to make those little decisions.”
“Whatever you suggest is fine, sweetheart; I trust your judgment since you do this for a living.”
“I’d go half-break since you’re about to be a busy Congressman and nobody wants to accidentally step in a puddle and ruin your new suit.”
“Mmkay, works for me. Make ‘em all half-break.”
You scribbled it into the tailor notes. “Got it.”
“Doesn’t happen enough, hmm?”
“What?”
“Your customers actually taking your advice and recommendations.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, big time. My favorite thing ever is that somehow, someone collectively gaslit all men into thinking they have a forty inch waist.”
His brows shot up. “You’re kidding me. Every guy comes in here thinking he’s a size forty?”
“Every. Damn. Guy.”
He shook his head. “Sam’s right. Men ain’t shit. We’re delusional. I’m in peak physical condition and I’m a damn 45 long in pants size.”
“Exactly. I blame TV. Maybe they just heard it somewhere and took it to heart, but every time I get a client that actually listens to my recommendations, it’s a momentous occasion.”
Bucky shook his head. “We really are the worst sometimes. Sorry.”
“Ah, don’t be. I took a retail job, after all. Par for the course.”
He shook his head as I helped him out of the jacket and hung the first tailor card from the sleeve buttons and added it to the rack for the tailor. “Well, I don’t know a damn thing about fashion, so just throw whatever looks good on me and I’ll buy it. I’m not much for green, but you’re right. Looks good.”
You smiled warmly. “Thank you, Bucky.”
He smiled back, but didn’t move for the booth right away. “Thank you for working with me.”
“You’re welcome.” You tilted your head, then asked: “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, then added softly. “You just…have a nice smile, that’s all.”
He slipped into the booth again. You nearly dissolved into a puddle, too stunned to say anything in return. Thank God Sam returned a second later to rescue you from your bashful moment. “Alright, food should get here in fifteen. What’s next, Buckaroo?”
“Stop callin’ me that,” he grumbled from inside the booth. “Doing the stupid baby blue one so I can get it over with now.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “And I can’t wait to make you eat your words. It’s gonna look fly, I promise.”
“Who says I wanna look fly? I’m working for fucking Congress.”
“I say you should look fly,” Sam sniffed. “You hang out with people from Wakanda, for God’s sake. You need a little high fashion in your life. Can’t be walking around looking like Rudy Giuliani on Capitol Hill.”
You shuddered. “Oh God, don’t even invite the comparison.”
“Right?” Bucky agreed from inside the booth. “So gross. You know someone offered me a contract to kill him one time while I was still the Winter Soldier?”
Your jaw dropped. “No shit.”
“Yep. It fell through in the end, but sheesh. What a schmuck.” He left the booth again in the robin’s egg blue and your breath caught in your throat.
It didn’t just look good on him; it looked fantastic on him.
The light blue truly set off his dark, near-shoulder-length brown hair and those pale, perfect eyes. He’d put on a plain white-dress shirt, one button near his throat undone, no tie yet since he’d change so frequently that it’d be annoying. It was nearly impossible to look at anything else in the room.
“I feel like an…” Bucky’s words dropped off as he noticed your blank, borderline lustful stare. His brows rose again in surprise. “Ah. Nevermind.”
“See?” Sam said smugly, squeezing your shoulders teasingly. “I told you it would work, Buck. You look dapper as hell. Doesn’t he?”
“Dapper is the understatement of the century,” you said once you remembered how to talk. “Wow, Bucky. It really does suit you, no pun intended.”
He blushed hard after that one and you giggled before shooing him over to the mirrors again. “Okay, fine, so you were right all along. I’ll trust the process from now on.”
Sam clapped. “Perfect! Go get ‘im that magenta suit I was talking about and make sure the shoes match.”
Bucky rolled his eyes as you started checking each section of him for the fit. “I’m not gonna walk around lookin’ like a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Pick something else, bird-brain.”
“Fine. You are getting that burgundy suit, though, and that’s final.”
He sighed. “At least it’s a dark color. Won’t show blood.”
Bucky then seemed to straighten up as he realized he’d said that aloud. “Uh, I meant…dirt?”
You chuckled. “Relax, it’s okay. You’re my first superhero, but you’re not my first politician, and trust me, those guys spill the same amount of blood, if not more.”
“So you’re smart too,” he said, smirking. “If you can cook, I might start picking out China patterns.”
You laughed, blushing madly as you gave him a hopeless look. “Stop that. I’m trying to work here.”
“My bad,” he chuckled. “Can't blame me, though. Maybe if I get you to fall in love with me, you’ll give me a discount.”
“Bold of you to think you aren’t getting one automatically. I mean, you have saved the world at least twice by my count. That ought to qualify you for a solid…fifteen percent.”
“A whole fifteen percent,” Sam mused. “Look at us moving up in the world.”
You chuckled good-naturedly as you patted Bucky’s shoulder to let him know you were done, so he headed back into the booth. “I’d take off more, but that’s the store limit, unfortunately.”
“Hey, even superheroes like to save money.” Bucky tried on the bright navy, the sharkskin, and the light grey before the food finally arrived and he changed back into his normal clothes so he could eat. Naturally, cheesesteaks were messy as hell, so you locked the door and flipped the Out to Lunch sign around, taking them over to the far corner where the windows wouldn’t see, near the tie table.
“You must have a million questions,” Sam said, his brown eyes laughing at you over the can of Coke in his hand.
“Oh God, way more than a million,” you said, shaking your head after the first bite. “I swear, I’ll try not to be boring and ask the same stuff you two must get asked constantly.”
“Take your time.”
You sipped your Pepsi, trying to figure out what you wanted to know the most. “Hmm…I guess I want to know if you guys do the same things for fun that we all do?”
“Sure,” Sam said. “I play tennis and golf, go on hikes every so often, bowling, that kinda stuff.”
“I’m mostly indoors,” Bucky said quietly. “I like reading novels and listening to old records. Sometimes I go to vintage movies too, but that’s mostly it. Pretty busy most of the time.”
“Understandable. Do you both date since you’re public figures or is it too difficult?”
Sam waggled his eyebrows. “Ooh, now we’re getting somewhere!”
Bucky smacked his knee. “Cut it out.”
“I’m just sayin’, brotha. Yours truly, yes. Not a lot, but I try to get myself out there whenever I have downtime. Dating takes up a lot of free time, so I can really only dabble in it on my off months.”
He nudged his partner. “Grumpypants ain’t been on a date since we took his ass off the ice, which annoys the hell out of me.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “God, you’re so nosy.”
“Nosy, concerned for your mental health...” Sam pretended he was holding two weights in his hands. “Convinced you’re going to die alone…”
“I can’t,” Bucky deadpanned. “You won’t stop following me around, so I’m not gonna die alone.”
Sam glared. “Punk ass.”
“Bitch.”
You shook your head, chuckling. “Like Sam and Dean Winchester, I swear to God.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” you said sweetly. “Do you guys both live in DC now?”
“Yeah, for the most part while I try to figure out where my spot is in this fucked up government. If I even want to work for said fucked up government.”
“Don’t blame you.” You shook your head. “I get what they were going for with the Sokovia Accords, but that wasn’t right. Turning you both into fugitives for trying to exonerate Bucky was a low blow. I’m just glad things turned out right for you in the end to some extent.”
“Sweet of you to say,” Bucky said. “Coulda gone a lot worse. Has for me before, but…it’s at least good that the people are responding to the idea of me up there at some podium trying to get these old white men to listen to reason.”
“I have to say I was shocked when I heard the announcement,” you admitted. “But not like in a ‘he can’t do it’ sort of way. More like a ‘why in God’s name would someone who actually saves the world be bothered to be in a room full of rich white dudes trying to destroy it and how is he going to keep his sanity every time they open their mouths’ sort of way.”
Sam howled laughing. “Holy shit, cutie pie! That is almost verbatim what I said when he told me he was gonna run for office. Kudos!”
He gave you a high five and all. Bucky shook his head, smiling nonetheless. “We may have only met twice, but you definitely know me, girlie. You’re exactly right. I’m kinda there because I don’t belong there. Because someone who gets shit done should be in office up there.”
“How are you finding it so far?”
He huffed, blowing a lock of hair off his forehead. “Fuckin’ tedious as hell. You gotta watch every last damn thing out of your mouth. It’s a good thing I don’t talk a lot. Sam’s got me covered in that area.”
“I’m his extrovert translator,” Sam deadpanned, to which you giggled. “The awkwardness buffer. The wingman, if you will.”
“Yes, I certainly will, as that is a magnificent pun.”
Sam’s smile widened. “I’m also his wingman in other areas, in case that’s important—”
“Sam,” Bucky warned, glaring. “Knock it off.”
“What? I’m just supposed to pretend there isn’t a vibe goin’ on between you two?”
“Yes,” Bucky snapped, glaring harder as he blushed. “That’s what normal people do, Samuel.”
“Too bad I ain’t normal.” Sam then leaned in and did a stage whisper. “He one-hundred percent wore the burgundy t-shirt because you said it’d look good on him.”
You dissolved into giggles as Bucky just sighed and covered his burning face with one hand. “Oh, stop it, Sam. Give ‘im a break. He’s still getting used to being around people again, don’t tease.”
“Aight, fine, I’ll behave for now, but don’t expect that for much longer.” He scooped up the trash now that the three of you were done but for the drinks and took them over to the large trash can by the sales counter.
Bucky sent you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. He’s always like this. Can’t take him anywhere.”
You waved a hand to dismiss the comment. “Bucky, I’m having the time of my life. Please relax. I’m enjoying your company, I swear.”
He met your eyes, then smiled softly. “Me too.”
You blushed even more deeply and slurped at your soda, avoiding his gaze so he wouldn’t notice he’d made you bashful again.
“Alright, kids, let’s get back at it,” Sam said, checking his watch. “What do we have left?”
You walked back into the booth. “Ah, let’s see…the charcoal, the burgundy, and the tuxedo are the only ones left to try on and I can let you go.”
“Sounds good.” Bucky slipped past you and shut the door, trying on the charcoal first, then it was time for another round of “pretend this man doesn’t look like breakfast, lunch, and dinner” when he slid into the burgundy suit. It had black silk lapels like a tuxedo jacket, but it looked slick and eye-catching at the same time, so much so that it was hard to focus on anything but his incredible body encased in it.
Sam elbowed you in the side, tapping the edge of his lips. “You got a little drool comin’ down right here—”
You smacked his arm lightly, glaring, but you couldn’t help giggling too. “You stop that, you mean man, you.”
Sam chuckled. “Just teasing, I swear. It looks great, Buck.”
“Thanks, as I value your opinion so much,” he said, rolling his eyes again. He then settled on you instead. “You like it?”
“I do.”
“Alright, good enough.” He left to put on the tuxedo. “Ah, shit.”
“What?”
“Cufflinks,” he said. “This is a French cuff shirt, right?”
“Oh, good point,” you said, walking around the corner to the tie table. Most of the cufflinks were inside the glass counter, so you took out a pair of blue ones that matched his eyes, and then went back to the fitting room. You knocked to make sure he was decent first, then he popped the door open in just the French cuff white dress shirt and the tuxedo slacks.
“Left one’s a little cold,” he murmured when he stuck out his arms. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you said as you straightened his sleeves and then lined up the button holes. “The arm’s beautiful.”
He didn’t say anything. You realized you’d said that absently, subconsciously, blushing as you risked a glance up at him. He had a surprised look on his face, his cheeks tinting pink as they had been all afternoon. He noticed you noticing him and then glanced away quickly. “Oh. No one’s ever…said that…to me before.”
You smiled as you finished putting on his cufflinks. “Glad to be the first, then.”
He smiled again, very gently. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
You blushed even harder. “Stop being nice to me or I’m going to fall in love with you.”
You then turned on your heel and marched away in the wake of his shocked laughter. You’d said it frankly as you knew it’d make him laugh and the laugh was warm as a fireplace and smoky like how good whiskey tasted. Sam had the biggest smug grin on his face after watching and hearing the interaction, so you just held up a hand. “Ah-ah. Zip it, Wilson.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Barnes.”
You picked up the yardstick and then brandished it at him. “Don’t make me use it, Cap.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He tilted his head. “Actually, I would, but we’re not finna talk about that—”
“I’ll end you, Wilson,” Bucky growled from the booth and you laughed again. He popped out of the booth in the double-breasted tuxedo.
“Heavens to Betsy,” you muttered. “How does he look even better in this one than in all the other damn suits?”
“Genetics,” Sam said. “Ain’t that a bitch?”
“You’re telling me. Sheesh.” You then checked everything about the fit, marking things with chalk, but all in all, he looked utterly handsome and debonair, to the point it was distracting. You dropped the chalk twice, for God’s sake, but he was sweet enough not to mention it. Sam gave you a break too, likely due to understanding just how damn fine Bucky looked in that damn tux.
“Alright, so which ones are we going with, sarge?” you asked once all of them were on the rack again and he’d changed back into his own clothing.
“Let’s do the light blue, bright navy, and navy pin-stripe, then the charcoal, the burgundy, and the tuxedo. I think we’ll drop the sharkskin and the light grey; I think that’s enough suits to rotate through for now. If I stick with it longer, I’ll consider even more suits, but for now, that’s enough.”
“Perfect.” You took the order to the register to ring him out, applying the discount. “On average, the tailor’s turn around time is two weeks, but again, you’re superheroes, so I’m going to say ten days is far more likely. He’ll want to do a good job since you’ll technically be a walking advertisement for his suits, so I would say two weeks is a safe bet.”
“I’ll miss you every day I’m gone,” Sam teased. “And so will he.”
He yelped as Bucky stepped on his foot. Bucky rolled his eyes one last time. “Thank you for everything. Especially putting up with him.”
“Thank you for lunch. The final fitting should go pretty quickly, so I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“Hint, hint,” Sam stage-whispered again, then dodged when Bucky tried to step on his foot a second time.
“I may or may not have the wingman with me next time,” Bucky deadpanned. “Seeing as I will kill him when we leave here.”
You chuckled as he paid for the entire order via credit card and then passed him the receipt. “Go with God, then.”
Sam snorted. “Which god? We know several now.”
You laughed merrily. “Whichever will protect you until we meet again, fellas. Thanks for coming through. I’ll see you on pickup day.”
“Thanks for making this whole process so easy for the grumpypants cyborg,” Sam said, shaking your hand again. “We’ll catch you later, cutie pie.”
“Ditto.” You offered your hand to Bucky. He took it…but then he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. You dissolved into helpless giggles, which made him smirk.
“Catch you later, cutie pie,” he murmured with heavy eye contact, loving how it made you light up like a Roman candle.
“Bye, fellas,” you said warmly, waving as they left.
And you’d be waiting on pins and needles for that last hopefully fateful visit.
Notes:
Side note: Twitter is TWITTER. I ain't callin' that shit X; I did it in the fic to make a point that the jerk was a JERK. Trust me, I just saw The Bad Guys 2 and I HOWLED LAUGHING that they did a parody of Musk's pathetic ass. I hope that sentient bag of racist cottage cheese has already heard they shit-talked him in the movie and is mad as fuck over it.
ANYWAY. This fic's flowing fairly well, so I'd say I'll probably be done within a day or two since it's just adorable banter and flirting. Smut's on its way next chapter, but bang the kudos button and leave me a nice comment before you head out, darlings. <3
(And I'm just teasing Sebby about the magenta suit he wore to MetGala. I love him to pieces; just pulling his leg. If this gets back to him somehow, just I know I love you, sweetie, and I'm kidding.)
Chapter 3
Summary:
Bucky returns for his final fitting and to pick up his suits. He also works up the guts to finally ask you out, so you're off to a romantic surprise date with Bucky as well.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
“No.”
“Ask her out.”
Bucky finally threw up his hands and quit stomping away from Sam, whirling around with a growl. “For God’s sake, Wilson.”
Sam didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Bucky. Ask. Her. Out.”
“I’m not asking her out, bird-brain,” he said from between his teeth. “She’s…what’s the matter with you? Why do you want that poor girl hitched to some ex-assassin’s wagon? Like she’s not got enough shit to deal with working that job where jackasses try to make her measure their in-seam for an ego trip?”
Sam folded his arms, his expression smug. “Because look how worked up you are about the fact that men go in there and try to humiliate and harass her.”
Bucky blinked then. He noticed his posture: hands down by his sides, fingers curling nearly into fists, his posture aggressive. He…hadn’t even realized it.
“What happened with the guy I passed on the street?” Sam asked quietly. “The truth, Buck.”
He sighed and let his body go loose again. “It’s like she said—the prick came in there and tried to pressure her to take his in-seam as a wannabe power move, so I told him to back off and sent him packing. Didn’t even slug him like I wanted.”
“And I’m here to tell you that the Bucky Barnes I knew about three years ago would have punched that guy’s lights out and been arrested for assault,” Sam said. “Bucky, you’re still in this mentality that you’re a rabid dog that got cured and is expecting to get kicked for doing anything at all. That’s not who you are, man. You’re a good guy and a protective one at that. Why wouldn’t your little cutie pie be interested?”
“It’s not that, it’s…” Bucky licked his lips, wincing. “I just…the shit I’m about to do, becoming a Congressman. That’d put her right in the crosshairs. I’m already a public figure. It could hurt her reputation. It could…hurt her in some way, all that attention. You know I have a bunch of unseemly fans that wouldn’t hesitate to start harassing her if they found out.”
“You can’t be afraid of what might be, Buck,” Sam said firmly. “You live in the now. Not the future. And right now…you’re so into that girl it’s ridiculous. And that’s okay, man. These things happen. Most of all, what I want you to do is just trust her. Trust that she likes you and wants to go out with you, at least once. Just once is all I’m asking. I know you, Bucky. You like her a lot and I think she likes you just as much and it might be worth the trouble to her to be with you.”
Bucky groaned in his throat as he felt his will power crumbling. “I hate you. Shoulda ordered them damn suits online, Wilson. You had to go and pick a suit store with the cutest girl in DC.”
Sam chuckled as he jostled his shoulder, moving him to keep walking towards the parking garage. “Hey, don’t look at me, Mr. Suit and Tie. You’re the one that wanted to become a Congressman.”
Bucky sighed again. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, well, if you’re gonna meddle, then you’re gonna help. The hell should I say to her?”
“You think too much. First off, she’ll give you an in. She’s a sweetie and she knows that you like her, so she’ll definitely give you some kind of cue. But if you insist, just give her plenty of the same flirty banter and then ask her out when she’s got you all squared away.”
Bucky chewed the edge of his lip. “Where do you think I should take her if she says yes?”
“Somewhere you like. Dinner and movie are always safe, but I have an idea if you want to do something nice for her that most normal girls probably haven’t gotten to do.”
Bucky squinted at him suspiciously. “Word your answer very carefully, Wilson.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Get your mind outta the gutter, Buck. It ain’t like that.”
“Alright, fine, I’m listening, but if she doesn’t like it, you’re getting plucked like a turkey.”
You tried not to anticipate Bucky’s return your entire shift, but you couldn’t help it. You’d been mooning over the guy for the entire ten day period, trying to stay busy with things at home so you wouldn’t pine for him, but you knew better. You were a smitten kitten and had no idea what to do about it. Was it just banter and flirting with nothing behind it or did you have accidental chemistry with the sergeant that was worth pursuing? After all, if you did, it wouldn’t be easy. He was already an infamous public figure and joining Congress would cast more light on him, not less. And you did know his fans had questionable morals at times, like any super-hot public figure. He’d saved the world, for God’s sake. How could you stand next to a guy like that and ever hope to measure up?
Regardless of the outcome of pickup day, you’d still dressed to impress anyhow: you’d whipped out what you called your sunset dress, which had gradient colors of sunset from orange to red to blue to violet that hugged your curves and made you look effortlessly cute without trying too hard. You stuck to light makeup with just eyeliner and a wee bit of lip color paired with subtle jewelry. Not that you were the least bit subtle about the ongoing crush.
Then again, neither was he.
The door jingled at one o’clock and so did your heart. You turned to see Bucky loping inside for his third visit, dressed in a violet t-shirt, black jeans, and boots, no jacket. The warmth in his smile as he approached made your stomach churn with nervous excitement, as did the sight of the utterly gorgeous bouquet in his hands; one of wild flowers and chrysanthemums.
“Afternoon, cutie pie,” he said when he was close. “Fancy seein’ you here.”
“Fancy that,” you said with good humor. “How’ve you been, sarge?”
“Fine, now that my nosy partner’s not here to start trouble.”
You grinned. “Yes, now you’ll be responsible for that.”
He chuckled. “Me? That’s way more up your alley.”
Bucky glanced down at the flowers in his hands. “Got these for this really nice, funny girl that helped me out a lot with my suits. Know her?”
“I might,” you sniffed, accepting them when he handed them over. You then followed it up with a genuine smile. “Thank you. You’re very sweet, Buck.”
You kissed his cheek to thank him, pleased that it made him blush. “Alright, well, it’s completely up to you if you want to try every suit on again or if you just want to go with the most crucial ones and try the rest at home. We have a great policy if the tailor missed anything; you’re more than welcome to bring it back to be altered again for free if you catch it within a month of today. Some things can fall through the cracks or sometimes a person’s weight changes in between the order and pickup, so feel free to let me know if anything doesn’t fit.”
“I think for the sake of time, I’d like to go with the ones I’ll probably wear the most, so the charcoal, the bright navy, and the tuxedo are the priorities,” he said as he followed you around back to the fitting room where you’d set him up in his usual booth. “I was gonna ask you about shirts, ties, and shoes this time, though. I went home and realized my dress shoes are getting ratty and I probably need maybe three new dress shirts and at least one tuxedo shirt.”
You put your lovely bouquet in the back over by your purse and then dusted off your hands, calling out to him. “Sure, that’s no issue. Hang on and I’ll get you some that’ll go with those three suits.”
“Much obliged, beautiful,” he called from the booth and you cheesed like an idiot, glad he couldn’t see your idiotic grin or blush. You’d already memorized his neck and sleeve size, so you went to the wall and considered what you’d learned about him since you’d met for the colors. He’d bought the pale green dress shirt with the suit order, so that was already waiting in the booth for him to take home. You decided on a black dress shirt for the charcoal, a white with black pin-stripe shirt for the bright navy, and then a white French cuff tuxedo shirt with black and silver cufflinks. You also went by and nabbed a pair of brown and black dress shoes in size twelve along the way back to the fitting room.
You returned and knocked on the booth door. “Hey, got your shirts.”
“Thanks.” The door popped open.
And he was shirtless.
You dropped the shirts.
“Fuck—shit—sorry—” You sputtered, flustered as you stooped and scooped them up, trying in vain not to stare at the rolling plains of muscles that made up his broad chest, narrow waist, and cobblestone abs. Good God, was he fine as hell, and he wasn’t even trying, for God’s sake.
“S’okay,” he said, chuckling good-naturedly. “Mind picking out two ties for me too?”
“Not at all.” You went over to the tie table and deliberated briefly while cursing your own awkwardness. That shirtless image wasn’t going to fade out of your mind’s eye for anything. God, he was so hot. And nice. And funny. He was absolutely killing you being all the things you hoped he’d be. You picked a plain burgundy silk tie for the charcoal suit and then a multi-color blue fern patterned tie. Thankfully, he had the black dress shirt on by the time you knocked again, to your both relief and disappointment.
He walked out in the charcoal suit and headed right to the three-tiered mirror to check the fit, the tie loose around his neck for now. You inferred he had trouble with it from just not practicing enough, so after he examined himself and nodded along, you took your spot in front of him to tie the tie so he could see the full effect. He didn’t stare directly at you, taking some of the pressure off, but his eyes did wander to your reflection. “Love that dress on you.”
You blushed. “Thank you.”
“You have a good eye for fashion,” he said. “I like the ties and the shirts you picked. No way would Wilson have put me in anything subtle.”
You chuckled. “Yeah, he strikes me as someone that’s always noticeable wherever he goes.”
“That’s being awful nice. I just say he’s extra, to use the vernacular.”
“He is very extra, but I’m glad he seems to adore you and want good things for you. Nothing makes me smile more than healthy male friendships.”
Bucky snorted softly. “Friendship is a bit of a reach, but you’re not wrong. He does have my back when I need it. He’s good people.”
“That he is.” You lightly patted his shoulders, then stepped aside so he could have a last look. “Yay or nay?”
“S’perfect. I’ll keep the shoes you gave me too; they’re surprisingly comfy.” He slipped back into the booth and changed into the bright navy, and it didn’t require any further alterations like the charcoal hadn’t since your tailor was very good at detailing suits. The tuxedo you knew to prepare for as it made him look scrumptious as hell, but this time, you opted for something other than a tie when he popped out to check the fit.
“To make your life much easier, we have this kind of bowtie,” you said sweetly. “It’s a pre-tied, pre-made one, but it’s not a clip on, so no one on Capitol Hill will be able to tell.”
“Marry me,” he said seriously and you giggled, lifting onto your tiptoes as you looped it around his neck, then neatly tucked it under the tuxedo shirt collar. You then affixed his cufflinks to his wrists again.
“I would in this suit,” you teased, stepping aside so he could see himself. “That is one dapper motherfucker in that reflection there.”
He chuckled, blushing again. “You’re way too nice. I still feel like a monkey every time I’m in a suit, but you made me look like the classiest monkey of ‘em all.”
“Oh, you. D’you know how many of my clients would kill to look as good as you do in a tux? That little shit you saved me from sure as hell would.”
He frowned. “Please. That little insect wishes he could look this good. He didn’t come back, did he?”
“Oh, hell no. You scared him so bad I was surprised I didn’t see a pee trail on his way out.”
Bucky snorted. “Thank God he didn’t or I’d have made him come back here and mop it up himself.”
“A man after my own heart.”
He paused, then offered a slow, warm smile. “I kinda am, actually.”
You glared at him. “Get your charming onion booty back in that damn booth and change.”
He chuckled softly. “Yes ma’am.”
Bucky returned to the booth and then passed you the suits so you could get them into the complimentary suit bags. You added his shoes and accessories to the carryout bags as well and then he met you at the counter in his plain clothes, passing you the cufflinks. You tucked them back in their container and rang him out for the new stuff, and by then, your stomach had been doing cartwheels as you fretted over if you should ask him out or if it was just harmless flirting.
“Looks like I have everything I need, thanks to you,” he said after tucking his credit card away.
“Seems you do, future Congressman Barnes,” you said, winking. “Good luck to you on the campaign trail.”
His smirk widened. “Any chance that cute little store associate that works here is interested in seeing where that campaign trail may lead her?”
You could have done a goddamn backflip in celebration. You played it cool, crossing your arms and leaning your hip against the counter with a sly look. “She might be. What did the future Congressman have in mind?”
Bucky clucked his tongue. “Can’t reveal all my secrets. It’s a surprise.”
You wrote your cell number on the back of one of your store business cards and slid it over. “Alright, I’m game. I know things are going to get hectic for you soon, so when might be best?”
“I’m free Thursday night. I’ll text you the address. Meet me there at seven o’clock.”
“Works for me.” You batted your lashes at him. “Stay out of trouble.”
He grinned wolfishly. “I will if you will.”
You touched your chest, mock-affronted. “Sergeant, I’m am an angel. How could you even suggest that I’d be anything but an angel until we meet again?”
He picked up your hand and kissed the back of it, smirking when it made you blush. “Got it. Guess I’ll bring the trouble then. Take care, girlie. See you Thursday.”
Your cheeks hurt from the grin on your lips. “See you Thursday, Bucky.”
You had absolutely no idea what on Earth awaited you for your first date with Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes but you were excited after he said, “Dress cute, but functional.” What an odd text message, but you took it to heart. You slipped into a black cocktail dress with light blue flower patterns and some comfortable flats, pairing it with pale blue jewelry and a smoky eye. You then decided just for funsies, you fixed your hair into a pin curl the night before the date, so it’d be fluffy and cute and vintage too, just to see if Bucky would notice.
When you arrived, you were very amused to find that he’d brought you to a rowdy-looking biker bar, but judging by the sound of The Kills blaring on the outdoor speakers, it may have been your kind of party after all. You parked and walked over to the sidewalk to see a fairly good-sized bar in full swing with cheers emanating from the windows and doors already.
Bucky stood out front, dressed like a fucking wet dream in a Harley Davidson leather jacket, a black t-shirt, jeans, and boots, tapping a single long-stemmed rose against his shoulder as he waited for you. You tried not to trip as you walked up with your heart in your throat, terrified and thrilled to be on a date with Bucky fucking Barnes. He spotted you and that same dreamy, warm smile touched those fuckable lips and made your knees weak. “Evening, beautiful.”
“Hey, Bucky,” you said, kissing his cheek gently. “You look great.”
“You look even better,” he said, lightly bouncing one of your curls. “Love what you did with your hair. Looks amazing on you.”
You giggled and blushed like a fool. “T-Thank you.”
He offered the rose. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but I couldn’t resist. You smiled really pretty when you got the bouquet, after all.”
“Stooooop,” you whined, blushing harder as you accepted the flower. “Thank you. I happen to think it’s still very sweet to bring along flowers or a bouquet, personally.”
You then slipped your arm through his and gestured to the bar. “So tell me about your bar.”
“Not just any bar,” he said, grinning wolfishly as he led you over and opened the door. “It’s axe-throwing night and I wanna see what you’ve got.”
Your eyes lit up. “Axes!? Literal axes?”
“Yep,” he said, waggling his eyebrows playfully. “You up for it?”
“I am so fucking up for it,” you said, bouncing on your heels gleefully as you saw that the main floor had been cleared for large booths where bikers and other bar patrons were competing in an axe-throwing tournament and then others were just doing it for funsies and taking pics. “This is so cool. I’ve always wanted to try it; just never got around to it.”
“Then you’ll have a blast, trust me. These are really cool people here. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He took your hand and your heart throbbed like an anime protagonist’s, full on doki-doki kind of bullshit, but you just bit your lip to hide the dopey smile as he led you through the lobby. The second he reappeared, everyone cheered and bellowed his name, clapping him on the back or shoulder as he passed by to head for the bar. There were about twelve stools and some people were getting refills on their mugs from a tall redheaded man with a long braided beard. He had a cacophonous and friendly laugh, passing out bottles and mugs as he chortled to his customers about what was on tap.
When Bucky brought you over, the big guy adopted a huge grin, speaking with a slight Russian accent. “Hey, Barnes, you’re late! But I’ll forgive you if you do me the honor of introducing me to your lovely lady friend.”
Bucky smiled and rubbed your back gently, telling him your name. “This is her first time in.”
The big fella shook your hand. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, darling. Call me Mikhail. Welcome to my bar. You are entitled to everything in here for free, unlike him, because you are so sweet.”
He winked. You giggled. “Thank you, that is very generous, but I’d certainly love to tip you and your staff if that’s alright.”
“Always, sweetie,” he said, tapping a big finger on the tip jar already full to burst and you added in a few bills. “What can I pour for you?”
You glanced up at Bucky. “What do you recommend?”
“He makes a mean Moscow mule.”
You winked at Mikhail. “One of those, please.”
“Comin’ right up, cutie pie. You must be the one he’s come in here to rave about, yes?” he asked as he turned to start making the drink. “He came in here a week ago with this big grin on his face he couldn’t shake. Was that you?”
“Mikhail, come on,” Bucky groaned, blushing. “Sam’s not even here and it’s like he’s possessed you or some shit.”
Mikhail let out a belly laugh. “It’s true. Wilson does have a tendency to rub off on you. But no, if she is the one that made that big grin on your face last week, then I am even more overjoyed to meet her.”
“I am she,” you said, giggling at Bucky’s shy look. “Trust me, I earned that grin through blood, sweat, and tears. You have no idea what it’s like trying to fit a Super Soldier into a suit.”
“Suit of armor, maybe,” Mikhail chuckled. “That must have been quite the task. Were you successful?”
“He looked like new money in that tuxedo,” you said, lightly poking his chest teasingly. “I’m very sure he’ll distract half of Congress the first time he strolls in there in one of our suits. He’ll have to beat them off him with a stick.”
“I was planning on doing that anyway,” Bucky snarked with a wink and you both laughed then.
“Then he is properly prepared to deal with the American government,” Mikhail said as he finished up the Moscow mule and then passed it to you over the bar. He then handed Bucky a bottle of Blue Moon. “There you are, my sweet, please enjoy. If you have never thrown before, go to the booth at the far end and I’m sure your date will be happy to show you the ropes. You can throw all night; we close at two, so have fun and don’t hesitate to come back for a refill, yes?”
“You are a darling and a gentleman, sir,” you said, blowing him a kiss, and then Bucky led you to the beginner’s booth at the far left wall. You sipped your delicious drink and watched the experts as you and Bucky passed behind them, impressed at the trick shots. “How long have you been coming here?”
“About eight months, I think,” he said as he sipped his beer, then took off the leather jacket. It was a simple thing, but the way it made his biceps curl and flex made you want to drool into your drink. “I wanted to get away from those high end snooty bars that are closer to Capitol Hill, so I checked around for places where roughnecks hang out and found this place. Really nice staff, great booze selection, good music, and then they do these little monthly get-togethers. Sam started making me go so I can make friends and that’s how I found out about the axe-throwing.”
You gestured to his jacket. “And how long have you had the Harley?”
“Oh, uh, I think…three years? That sounds about right. Ever ridden?”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Oh no, I’m too chicken. I think I’d like to have an instructor if I ever got brave enough to try it.”
“You’re plenty brave,” he said, lifting his brows as he grabbed one of the axes stuck in the target. “You are on a date with an ex-assassin, after all.”
You snorted. “I’d be stupid to turn down a guy that’s saved the world multiple times.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said softly. “I…hadn’t had much luck in the dating scene. Problem is when you’re infamous, it’s hard to find someone that likes you for you. Some of ‘em just wanted the bragging rights and some of ‘em didn’t even like me as a person.”
Your gaze softened on him. “Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s really not,” you said quietly. “You have so much going for you, Bucky. I can’t even picture turning you down for a date. You’re thoughtful and attentive and sweet. I spend about six out of those eight hours a day being dismissed by rich politicians that talk to my tits and not my face. I know you have a reason to be hard on yourself, but trust me. You’re ahead of every single man I’ve ever met. I’m not flattering you. I’m just telling you the truth. You’re a great guy.”
He stared at you in awe for just a moment, then smiled. “Stop being nice to me or I’m going to fall in love with you.”
You laughed. “No problem. I’ll be the grumpypants of the two of us tonight then.”
Bucky chuckled, twirling the axe in one hand and then throwing it straight and true. It hit the center target and stuck, digging into the wood halfway.
“Wow,” you said. “I bet you’re incredible by now, huh?”
“I do alright; it was never a specialty.” He took a swig of the beer and then beckoned you over with a finger. “Come on over, gorgeous. Time for your first lesson.”
You drained half of the Moscow mule, then stepped up to the little throwing area. “The grip is the most important part. You actually want to grip it further down since what you want is a full rotation of the axe since that’s how the momentum will help you hit center target.”
Bucky demonstrated, then passed it to you, and you mirrored him. “You want to stand with your feet apart, about parallel to your shoulders.”
You adjusted your feet. “Good. Now, you want it high over your head and you reach back to about where your shoulder stops. You want a nice, fluid swing so the axe rotates properly and hits the target. You want a nice exertion of strength, but don’t chuck it, if that makes sense. Let go when it’s right at the top of your skull.”
“Mmkay.” You made sure your stance was right and tried your best to aim. You threw the axe and it did a half-rotation, but not full, so it hit the target’s outermost ring. “Ah, so I’m terrible.”
Bucky chuckled as he retrieved it. “Relax. It’s just how unfamiliar the gesture is to you.”
He stepped behind you and raise your arms, adjusting your grip slightly. His burly chest pressed into your spine and you almost melted into a puddle in his arms. It had been way too long since your last date—and even longer since you’d had sex—so smelling that Calvin Klein cologne along with his sinuous arms around you made you want to swoon. He helped you raise the axe and you then felt the difference in how to throw it, releasing it when he did. It rotated properly and hit just above center ring.
“Not bad, teach,” you said playfully, pleased that he didn’t immediately let you go. “I appreciate the, uh, hands on instructions.”
He chuckled softly. “Thought you would.”
Bucky then retrieved the axe and said he’d go grab the food from the kitchen pickup window that he’d placed ahead of meeting you. He came back with a medium pepperoni pizza, hot and delicious, and you chatted as you intermittently kept throwing axes, getting a little more accurate each time. He had another beer and you had another Moscow mule, then you joined the crowd to watch the competition as it started to heat up. He slipped his Vibranium arm around your back and let you lean into his side, nearly sighing in contentment.
“That was so much fun,” you said, beaming as Bucky walked you back to your car. “Thank you so much for inviting me. I loved your new friends. I loved that bar in general.”
“Glad you did,” he said, your arm through his, his gait slow. “Thanks for coming out with me. You have a knack for making things I’m usually scared of more fun, y’know.”
“Do I?” you teased, leaning against the driver’s side door. “Why is that exactly?”
He smiled as he got close and your heart rate spun off into the millions. “Guess you’re just that damn charming.”
“Oh, please, Bucky, you could charm the paint off my car just by smiling at it—” He kissed you mid-chuckle and you damn near melted into a puddle right there in the parking lot. It had been so smooth, so sexy, so passionate. His lips were soft as they looked and he tasted like beer and sweetness. His scent enveloped you and you wanted more, so you pulled him even closer by the lapels of his leather jacket. That big body pressed you into the side of the car and you couldn’t stifle a little moan of pleasure as his pelvis ground into yours.
Bucky broke from your lips, licking his own, his voice rough. “Sorry, so sorry, didn’t mean to…you’re just so pretty and I like you so damn much—”
“Just shut up and do it about a hundred more times,” you breathed, hauling him down to your mouth again. You licked his lips apart and he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kissed you in return. By the time you felt the blunt edge of his cock against your inner thighs, you knew you’d made your decision about the rest of your night.
“Coffee?” you slurred, trying to remember how to talk after snogging Bucky fucking Barnes. “Wanna…come back to my place for coffee?”
Bucky licked his lips. It was highly distracting. “You sure?”
“Very sure,” you whispered.
He smiled softly as he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “I take mine cream, no sugar.”
“You won’t need it, soldier,” you purred, running your hands up that magnificent chest and watching his pupils dilate eagerly. “Trust me, I’m sweet enough.”
Notes:
Hahaha, funny story; thought this was gonna be a three-shot and now it's a multichapter. Thanks, BUCKY. *glares*
Smut's on its way. Bop the kudos button and leave a nice comment in the meantime.
Chapter 4
Summary:
Bucky comes inside for coffee. Yes, that's a euphemism.
Notes:
Smut preview: rough sex, praise kink, unprotected sex (but Reader is on the pill), semi-public sex, dirty talk, desk sex, light spanking.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You’ll never know, dear
How much I love you
Don’t take my sunshine away!
-“You Are My Sunshine" as sung by Ray Charles
By the time you got your apartment door open, all bets were off.
You weren’t the least bit surprised as you dropped your keys and purse on the table beside the door to let Bucky shove the door shut with your body weight and pin you to it with his big, burly body. He kissed you passionately as you quickly got to work shoving the Harley Davidson leather jacket off his shoulders and digging your nails into his pecs like you’d been dying to do since you met him. He pulled on your skirt to lift it over your long, smooth legs and then picked you up once he’d slid those big hands around your thighs. You lost your fingers in that thick, dark hair as he kissed you harder, chasing after your tongue, rocking into you in a slow, rhythmic way that made you moan helplessly in pleasure.
“Bedroom?” he asked roughly against your lips.
“Second door on the right,” you mumbled back.
Without hesitation, he turned and carried you there, his lips idly smooching the hollow of your throat as he moved as if he couldn’t help himself. He sat on the end of the bed to let you straddle his lap, pushing the dress to bunch at your hips so he could stroke your thighs. He spread whiskered kisses all over your throat, your cleavage, his hands massaging your thighs, his hips rocking up to meet your own. You slipped off the dress straps and wriggled to push it down to your waist, exposing the classic black pushup bra beneath it. Bucky stroked the length of your spine as he kissed your collarbone, your shoulders, your throat, low groans emanating from his chest as he tasted your skin hungrily. “So fuckin’ beautiful, baby…”
He flipped you over to land on your back on the mattress, rearing up on his knees to pull off his shirt. You nearly started drooling again once that magnificent chest was on display again, his abs so chiseled and cut, his skin flushed from your attention. His dog tags spilled out to rest against his pecs as he straightened up. He kicked his boots and socks off, then pushed the jeans to the floor, leaving him in plain black boxer-briefs. He helped you slid off the dress and crawled up to meet you eagerly, kissing you as he let his weight drop to flatten you on the bed. You lost your head immediately as that heavy frame pinned your hips and his hard cock ground in between them against your sopping wet pussy beneath the black panties. He had you breathing hard and heavy in under a minute as his hands explored your curves, running up and down your body in a constant loop that lit every part of you aflame.
His hands then smoothed up your sides and around your upper back, popping the bra loose. He chucked it aside and swallowed your right breast in his hot mouth, his Vibranium hand teasing the other’s nipple taut, his hips circling on top of you and grazing your spot so much that you started seeing stars. You couldn’t help running your nails along his ribs, trying to ground yourself, feeling him shudder. “Mm…Buck…I’m a little…sensitive…”
“It’s been a while for both of us, I can tell,” he murmured, licking his lips after he let your breast go. “It’s okay. I want you to feel good right now. You don’t have to wait if you don’t want to.”
You shivered as he kissed up the right side of your throat again, one hand lightly caressing your breast, the other holding his weight as he thrust against you, the friction perfect, rushing sensations of pleasure flowing through you unbidden. “Buck…”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, lightly pinching your nipple as his pace increased. “Good girl.”
You mewled helplessly as the praise pushed you over the edge, spilling you into a small but powerful orgasm from his dry sex. He hummed into your mouth as he felt you go, slowing his thrusts to let you enjoy it without being overstimulated. The heat filled you to the brim like a mug of coffee overflowing and left you warm and pliant beneath him, struggling to control your breathing against the scorching surf of ecstasy.
“God, you come pretty,” he sighed into your hair, kissing the spot under your jaw. “Need more.”
You nearly asked what he meant, but then he slithered down your body one kiss at a time until he straddled your hips again. You lifted your lower body to help him draw the panties down your legs, nearly gulping nervously at the tremendously erotic sight of a half-naked Bucky Barnes poised between your open thighs, his dark hair shading those wintry eyes, a wolfish grin overtaking those plush lips as he noticed your deer-in-headlights look. “Green light?”
“God, yes, so fucking green,” you gasped out, digging your fingers into the bedspread for strength. “B-But only if you want to, please don’t feel pressured—”
“Oh, baby,” Bucky purred as he draped your legs over his shoulders. “Trust me, been wantin’ to do this to you since we met.”
He licked a wide stripe over you first. Your spine arched and your head flew back on your neck, a desperate cry escaping as the first wave of searing, tingling pleasure surged up from between your legs. Bucky hummed and rubbed his five o’clock shadow against your right inner thigh. “Mm, good girl, that’s it, relax for me…”
Bucky slid his hands down your outer thighs to your hips and held them steady as he licked up one side, then the other, taking the time to lightly lash at your clit. Your hands turned to claws on the bedspread as he then settled into a slow but sensual exploration of your wet inner walls. When he’d tasted you enough to his liking, he lifted a hand to thumb your clit and spread you open to him, then lost his tongue inside you completely. “James!”
He gave you no reprieve. He chased your orgasm down like a man on a mission, sucking and slurping at you as if you tasted like ambrosia to him. When you got close, he then slipped two fingers inside you and raked them through your soaking pussy, his hot mouth licking and sucking at your spot until you came apart under his hands with a piteous cry of his name. The pleasure doused you all over like hot honey and lasted for entire minutes rather than seconds as it had with previous lovers. You’d damn sure never come that hard ever, let alone from just oral sex. Sergeant Barnes was one in a million in that regard.
“Mm, fuck, I was right,” he murmured as he finally slid back to sit on his haunches. “You do come pretty, baby.”
“Buck,” you whined, covering your flushed face as he chuckled in that masculine sort of way that handsome men only could. “Stop that.”
“Never,” he said affectionately, sliding his hands down your thighs again. “You’re beautiful. Can’t help myself around you.”
“Dummy,” you whispered with just as much affection as you tugged him down to kiss you now that his lips were clean. “On your back, soldier.”
“Yes ma’am.” He rolled over and you straddled his lap immediately, eager for the reveal. You tugged the hem of the boxer-shorts down to find a very long, thick cock. He flushed a bit redder out of modesty, sighing in gratification as your fingers wrapped around the shaft and began to stroke it slowly. You leaned in to kiss his lips, then let your mouth naturally drift past his chin to under his jaw, the side of his neck, over his collarbone, down that muscular chest and abdomen, his hips twitching when you passed them headed for his cock. You knew it had been a while for him too, so you didn’t rush. You circled the head of his cock with your tongue, then brought the tip inside, but not the rest. He tensed, but in a good way, not as if he’d been overwhelmed. You kept that same gentle pace, taking an inch more each time your mouth came down on him until he finally relaxed loose on the bed and let you work.
“Fuck,” he groaned in a tight voice after a bit, sliding his hand to your nape. “Getting…close, honey, too close…”
“It’s okay,” you cooed as you withdrew. “Do you want to come, Buck? I’m okay with it.”
He swallowed hard. “You…sure?”
You smiled. “Totally.”
Bucky seemed to grapple with his desire for a second, but then he licked his lips and nodded his consent. You redoubled your efforts while lowering your other hand to his sack, lightly caressing it as you hollowed out your cheeks to suck as hard with him deep down your throat. He bit off a curse in Romanian and came inside your mouth, his cock twitching madly as it released. You swallowed every drop and then slid him free so he wouldn’t be overstimulated, pride welling up in your chest at the flushed look of pleasure on his face.
“Such a bad girl,” he mused as he tugged you up to straddle him and kissed you. “God, that was amazing. You really do have soft hands, y’know. You’re so good to me.”
“I give what I get, big guy.” You kissed him again. “Condom? I’m on the pill, so I’m fine either way.”
“Been six months since my last time,” he replied as he chased after your lips teasingly. “You?”
You huffed. “Longer. More like a year.”
He winced. “Shit, honey, I’m sorry.”
You shook your head. “Don’t be. I just had a bad run of dates back to back and decided to take a break. Maybe that’s why the universe sent you to me. You are a grumpy cloud missing his sunshine.”
He smiled and chuckled, resting his forehead on yours for a second. “And you certainly are my sunshine. That much I know.”
You smiled like a moron. “Damn you, Barnes.”
“I know. It’s a curse.” He kissed you as he settled his hands on your waist, slowly lowering you onto his cock at long last.
And long certainly was the right word.
“Buck,” you breathed, biting his lower lip halfway down, shuddering. “Mm…so…big…”
“Good girl,” he sighed against your mouth. “That’s it, take me deep, good girl, don’t stop…”
Your soft ass then rested in the groove of his pelvis and you just stayed still for a moment in appreciation of the overfull feeling of that enormous cock inside you, stimulating all the right nooks and crannies to spill shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your sweaty, naked skin. It felt like he’d lit a wick inside of you and the time was counting down to the eventual explosion.
And you damn sure couldn’t wait for that.
Your hips moved all on their own to draw him out of you. He sighed as he reclined against the pillows, his pupils dilated as he watched you sway on top of him, slipping him in and out of you at a leisurely pace. The heat licked up your naked form instantly and built a hearth at your tight, wet core. He helped rock you down onto his cock and shoved his hips up to meet you in the middle, stimulating your deepest hidden nerves effortlessly. He teased your breasts in between thrusts, occasionally sliding his right hand to stroke your throat until you were good and worked up.
Bucky sat up and wrapped you in his arms, pinning you to his chest as he scooped you off the mattress and crossed your legs around his back. “Mm, you’re close, baby doll. You gonna come for me?”
“Yes,” you whimpered around his hurried, messy kisses. “So close, Buck, please.”
You whined in your throat as he shifted his hips faster and faster, his excitement feeding your own until the pleasure clawed at your inner core to get free. He slid his hands down your naked spine to your ass and then squeezed it hard, jerking his hips at just the right angle. You moaned as it set you off at last, dragging you down into the abyss of sweet, sweet ecstasy. You flexed all over that gloriously hard, long cock and he groaned through your orgasm, not stopping, only slowing his thrusts so you both could enjoy it completely. He licked the soft spot under your jaw, his voice rough with arousal. “God, you’re so damn pretty when you come, baby. Mm, I could watch that shit for hours, all night long…”
“Bucky,” you whimpered as he then gently turned to lay you beneath him on the bed, nestled in the pillows like a princess awaiting her devoted knight. He kissed his way up from your inner thighs, taking care to rub his cheek along your delicate skin to make you moan. He slid his knees all the way up to part your thighs and straddle you on the bed, tugging your arms above your head and holding them down with his Vibranium hand. The other lined his wet cock up with you and then delved it inside you where it belonged, driving a shuddering cry from your lips that he caught with his own. You arched up from the bed, but loved how his weight held you down, how his strong grip was just gentle enough on your wrists, how his hips shifted to bury him as deeply as he could reach. You’d never had a lover this dynamic or focused on your pleasure, let alone one with his stamina.
“Mm, you feel so good, baby,” he sighed in your ear, kissing down the side of your throat. “You look so goddamn gorgeous under me just like I knew you would.”
You flushed bashfully, wrapping his waist in your thighs as the arousal shot to new heights at his words. “Please, Bucky, please fuck me, please fuck your good girl—”
He kissed you passionately, growling, “Whatever you want, sweetheart, always. My good girl always gets what she wants, what she needs, what she deserves…”
You whimpered as he rocked into immediately, every stroke hard and fluid and aimed right at your melting center. You loved the feel of his firm chest against your breasts, his sculpted stomach against your soft belly, his constant grip on your wrists. He alternated kissing your lips and gently biting hickeys into your throat to mark you as his, turning you on even more. You worked your hips down onto his pelvis on the apex of every thrust and knew you’d lose yourself to him in nothing flat at this pace, for his cock brushed your innermost G-spot every time, making your toes curl. “Mm…close, so close, baby…”
“Good girl,” he purred in your ear, swiveling his hips to hit your clit at the end of his strokes. “That’s it, sweetheart, let go for me, let me take you there, come on my cock, give me this sweet pussy…”
He lowered his right hand to between your bodies and rubbed your clit in between his deep, swift thrusts inside your sopping wet cunt, his lips catching your wail of delight. “F-Fuck, Bucky, please don’t stop, right there, right fucking there, gonna come, gonna come so hard, please, James, please!”
He shivered and fucked into you faster still, pounding you into a delicious orgasm as he bit off a curse and followed you over the edge. You kissed him as his cock emptied within you, locked tight at your core, stimulating parts of you that you didn’t even know existed. The orgasm wrung your body out completely, filling it to burst with sweet pleasure. It left you a trembling mess underneath him, your eyes slightly wet from just how good and fulfilling it had felt. You’d missed it, but hell, in a way, you’d never had it so good. You’d never been with anyone so in tune to your body, who wanted your pleasure almost desperately.
Bucky nuzzled your cheek, then lifted up enough to kiss your lips. He smoothed your fallen messy hair out of your eyes and smiled sweetly, his voice hoarse. “You okay?”
You grinned. “I feel like new money, honestly.”
He chuckled, sliding onto his side and curling his left arm around you to snuggle you. “You honestly look like it, all the time. I’m sure Sam will be glad if I get with someone with actual fashion sense. He complains that all I do is wear hoodies and cargo pants.”
You kissed his nose. “We’ll work on that, don’t worry. Besides, the Congressman thing will cure of casual clothing pretty quickly as your idiotic public whines about your outfit.”
He shook his head. “Can’t believe anyone gives a shit.”
“It’s absurd. You should watch The Diplomat to prepare for how stupid the optics game is for politicians.”
“It’ll be the hardest thing to adjust to for me. I can handle stress. I can’t handle petty.”
You giggled as you scooted to snuggle deeper into his chest. “There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business, Barnes.”
He waggled his eyebrows, tweaking your bum playfully. “We’ll see about that, cutie pie.”
Several months later…
“Name?” the secretary outside of Bucky’s office asked, not even glancing up from her check-in screen.
You gave it to her. Her head snapped up then as she recognized you. “Oh, excuse me, miss. Got my head all in this computer and forgot my manners. I’ve got you checked in. Just knock and make sure he’s off that last call.”
“Thanks so much, Mary,” you said, waving as you passed her desk. You walked over to the frosted glass door proclaiming him Congressman Barnes and then rapped your knuckles on the door twice. After a moment, the glass darkened and the door opened to reveal your boyfriend with the phone up to one ear. He waved you inside and you slipped in.
Bucky then locked the door.
“Uh-huh,” he said as he walked over to the window behind his desk, tapping the controls on one end. It switched on the blinds to block out the light and view of D.C. “When’s that meeting?”
He then reached into his desk and picked up a small device, pressing it On and then setting it underneath the security camera in the corner of his office. A second later, the recording live light switched off. Bucky stuck a finger in front of his throat and loosened his tie, his suit jacket already off and draped over the back of his chair. “Mm-hmm. When is the report due?”
He leaned his backside on the sturdy oak desk as you strolled towards him patiently, swinging the belt of your tan and black-lined trench coat teasingly along the way. You stopped to stand between his thick thighs and then ran your hands up each one, pleased as a tent formed in his navy slacks. He slid his arm around your back to keep you pressed to his front, boldly gripping one half of your ass. “Alright, I’ll get that confirmed via email in…”
Bucky smirked wolfishly at you. “…an hour.”
He then hung up the phone and tossed it onto his desk. He kissed you deeply, sliding his hand up to your cheek and then into your hair. “Mm, fuck, I missed you, baby.”
You giggled. “You’re insatiable. Didn’t you fuck me last night, you monster?”
“Sure did,” he said cheerfully as he undid the belt to your trench coat. “And I probably will when I get home tonight after the benefit.”
You purred, your eyes closing as you pictured it. “Meaning you’ll be in that tux?”
He grinned and nibbled your neck as he spread the coat open. “Yep.”
“Well, sign me the fuck up for that.”
Bucky hissed as he noticed you’d come in a little black dress and fishnet stockings with heels. “God, you smell so fucking good, honey. Such a bad girl, coming here to fuck me in my office with all these people around…”
You giggled as he cleared off one corner of the desk and then spread your legs. “It was your idea.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” he teased as he finished doffing the tie and tossed it beside you on the desk. “I’m just a wolf. You’re the lamb that let me lead it to slaughter.”
You shook your head as he drew your panties down your legs. “Such a bad boy.”
“Hey, I’m just doing what apparently every politician does,” he said, arching an eyebrow as he unzipped his slacks. “Fucking on company time on company dime.”
You laughed. “At last, your transformation into a politician is now complete.”
“Oh, joy,” Bucky deadpanned as he looped your legs around his hips. He then checked his watch. “Hmm…my next meeting is in fifteen. Let’s see how many times I can make my little cutie pie come before I have to talk to the senator.”
You clucked your tongue to mask how goddamn hot that statement had just made. “Now, now, Congressman Barnes. Let’s not be a true politician that makes promises, but never follows through with them.”
He grinned then and then flattened you to the desk with his upper body, tilting you nearly into a mating press on the desk, his long cock mashing against your slick heat. “Oh, baby. I’d never disappoint my voters like that.”
He kissed you as he arched his hips enough to drive his cock inside you. You moaned hoarsely as the pleasure shot up your spine and through your veins like heroin. You loved it when he’d give you a rough quickie thanks to his busy schedule. He always carved out time for you, but sometimes the taboo fun late afternoon was enjoyable too. The two of you fucked like desperate newlyweds sometimes and you loved it, even anticipated it occasionally.
Bucky pounded your cunt in short, hard thrusts, kissing you to keep your silent since it felt so goddamn good that you both wanted to moan. The rough pace he set had you mewling around his lips in nothing flat and dragging your nails down his back, eventually grabbing his ass. He growled and fucked you even harder, dragging his soft lips along your chin so he could whisper in your ear. “Mm, that’s it, baby, give me this fuckin’ pussy, come on this cock right now. Be a good girl and come for me.”
“Mm, fuck, baby, yes, right there, so close, yes!” you slurred, shuddering hard as he fucked you over the edge at last, grabbing your hips to rock you into his pelvis harder without withdrawing. You pressed your hand over your mouth to stop a squeal as he came inside you, letting an aroused wolf’s growl as he made a mess of you. He pulled you to the edge and flipped you around, bending you over and slipping back into you easily, sliding his right hand over your mouth to muffle the cry that escaped. He fucked you from behind with the power of a charging bull, the slap of your ass against his pelvis and thighs hypnotic as he fucked you into your next climax in under three minutes. He bent you over completely and buried his cool Vibranium hand between your damp thighs to stroke your clit as he fucked you deeply through that orgasm straight into another one. He groaned as your cunt clenched his hard cock and he spilled into you a second time, slapping the right side of your ass just to make you moan.
“Mm, so fuckin’ good,” he slurred, his brawny body molding itself to your back. “God, you were all I could think about this morning in those stupid ass meetings. I just wanted to come home and sink into this creamy pussy, fuck it into the shape of my cock, make those cute little toes curl like I do.”
“Yes,” you moaned out, twisting onto your side and pulling him over you to kiss him. “Fuck your good girl, Congressman Barnes. Take it all out on me.”
He hissed again and lunged into you again, kissing you as he held onto your bent legs and pulled you down onto his cock over and over. You bit your bottom lip to stop a scream as that ripple of heavenly pleasure ribboned through your body again. “Yes, baby, don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me hard, yes!”
“So good,” he growled against your lips as he snapped his hips into you hard to drive his cock as deep as it could possibly reach. “That’s it, baby, come on this cock again, fucking come, that’s it, good girl, you feel so goddamn good—”
He came again just as you did, half-whimpering in pleasure as his cock filled your cunt with his come again. He dragged you off the desk and sat you in his lap on the chair, disappearing inside you. You shoved your face to his shoulder to smother the moan, clawing down his chest at the delicious overstimulation. You knew you couldn’t survive another round after this one, so you kissed him passionately as you worked yourself down on his thick cock as he caressed your thighs. “That’s it, baby, fuck me just how you want, take this cock deep, so goddamn fucking good, don’t want to stop, love this fuckin’ pussy, you’re so good to me, sweetheart, come for me one more time, just one more for Bucky, just one more, honey…”
You grabbed his hand and pressed it over your mouth and then pressed your own hand over his mouth as you threw it back on him as hard and fast as you could until the chair creaked and then you both let out muffled cries. He clutched you to his lap with his other hand and ground into you as deep as he could reach, groaning deeply as his come flooded you a final time. Your eyes rolled back in your head as the pleasure surged through your veins and left you trembling and raw with sensation. Christ, it had felt utterly hot and sinful and perfect, maybe since it was irresponsible as hell.
You caught yourself giggling into Bucky’s neck as you cooled off slowly. “We’re such idiots.”
He chuckled, kissing your cheek. “We really are.”
You then sat up and kissed him, waggling your eyebrows. “Same time next week?”
“You kiddin’ me?” Bucky said, popping open the bottom drawer of his desk to reveal a completely new outfit since he’d anticipated ruining this one. “Same time tomorrow, cutie pie. Congressman Barnes thanks you for your service.”
He then nipped your lower lip, grinning wolfishly. “And he plans to thoroughly thank you as often as possible.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Glad I can serve my country, Congressman Barnes.”
FIN
Notes:
Alright! Next up is a request from a friend, so canon stoner!Bucky x Afro Latina Reader ficlet will be on its way this week. After that, I believe I had planned to do a story about Reader bumping into Bucky by going to theater anniversary showings of vintage movies and they slowly fall in love each time they go see the films. Make sure to hit the kudos button and leave a nice comment on your way out. Birdie loves you!
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bunnyh_285 on Chapter 1 Fri 15 Aug 2025 11:24PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 15 Aug 2025 11:27PM UTC
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