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The Avengers Tower had a gentle buzz in the early evening. A lazy warmth was flowing through the open floor plan of the common room after a successful mission. The team was still coasting on adrenaline, with half-empty glasses sweating on side tables with a low, mellow music wafting through the air.
While it wasn’t technically an official celebration, no one had died, the mission had gone off without a hitch, and Stark had been ‘feeling festive’ enough to open his private bar. His own words, though you were watching him gesturing wildly from across the room while talking to Bucky and Steve. Something felt off about him offering one of the most expensive bottles of alcohol to the super soldiers. You knew that he knew they couldn’t get drunk. So really, what was he playing at? Sure Stark was generous, but he currently held a bottle of single malt scotch that you knew was worth over $10k like it was nothing.
Bucky nursed his own drink shaking his head at something Stark said, perched like he was ready to run. Like he always did in these types of parties. You knew he hated crowds and small talk and being seen. You kept your distance, drifting just close enough to keep an eye on him and intercept a conversation if needed, but just far enough that Tony wouldn’t get suspicious. The last thing either of you needed was him turning that genius-level focus on trying to solve the equation that was you and Bucky Barnes.
Stark was good at that, sniffing out secrets like a bloodhound when he got just a whiff of a trail of secrets. And you were sitting on a pretty big one you just weren’t ready to share yet. And more recently, you’d started to notice Tony watching the two of you more closely. A little too closely. Enough to make your skin prickle any time you saw Tony and Bucky interacting. Like he was testing out hypotheses and just needed a few more variables to prove it. He’d never been confrontational about it, but the way he kept glancing between you and Bucky tonight felt like he was just on the verge of a breakthrough.
You just weren’t ready. It used to be easy. Sneaking into each other’s suites, keeping it casual in the field, pretending you were just teammates. It used to feel like a fun little game. The thrill and adrenaline of getting caught mixing with passion in the best way. But lately, it didn’t feel fun anymore. It just felt like you were hiding.
Tonight and during the day’s mission especially. Bucky had barely looked at you. Not during the mission, not on the jet back to the Tower, not since you got back and quickly changed to come to this little party Stark had insisted on having. He was professional and cool as ever, the perfect soldier. He even barked orders at you like you were anyone else out there, despite the fact that you absolutely weren’t.
Dating Bucky Barnes was the easy part. Loving him even more so. Pretending you weren’t hopelessly head over heels for him? Pretending you didn’t want to easily squish yourself against his side, run your fingers through his hair, and be warmed by his comfort after the adrenaline spike was wearing off? Well that part was starting to wear a little thin.
The both of you had agreed to keep it a secret, not really wanting to make it into a whole…thing. To have it spiral into some Tower-wide event with teasing and bets and jokes every other time either of you so much as shared a quick glance. You both liked quiet and privacy. But maybe you were scared. Or maybe he was. Maybe it was just easier this way, whispering it to each other in the dark instead of being loud about it.
But if Tony Stark had his way tonight, that secret bubble was about to pop.
“What’s Tony doing?” you murmured to Natasha, nodding toward the bar.
She shrugged, indifferent, “Not a clue. But you know you can only keep your little arrangement secret for so long.”
“I just don’t want it made into a big deal when it’s really not.”
Natasha glanced at the glass now in Bucky’s hand that Tony had produced, eyes narrowing slightly. “He’s watching Barnes like he’s trying to catch him slipping. Whatever’s in that? Definitely can’t be good for your…secret.”
You swallowed heavily, scooting a bit closer to the three men. The liquid in the glass Bucky was holding was golden and fizzy, with bright white foam at the top, it looked like Simpsons cartoon beer somehow. Unnatural both in color and the way it moved in the glass. And he was far too casual when he said, “Here, Barnes. Special recipe. Help you loosen up a little, you’re going to get a permanent scowl on your face if you keep glaring like that.”
Bucky eyed the glass like it might bite him, “What the hell’s in this?” he asked flatly, brow furrowed as he tilted it forward, watching the golden liquid bubble like it was half carbonation.
“Relax,” Tony drawled, already halfway behind the bar again. He motioned you closer, already mixing a drink for you that you hadn’t asked for. “Just something I’ve been workshopping. Thought I would branch out into Stark-branded cocktails. Should taste like beer, but hits like fifteen.”
You warily eyed the glass in Bucky’s hand and gave a small shake of your head while Tony’s back was turned. Steve mirrored your look, but he looked somewhere between don’t do it and you’ll do it just to prove a point.
“Look,” Tony added with a shrug, handing you a vodka cranberry like he wasn’t setting up an elaborate experiment. “If your metabolism still tanks it, no harm done. Just figured someone around here deserves to enjoy it for once. Unless you’re scared.”
There it was. The bait. You saw it clearly now, the way he was trying to goad Bucky for answers, and he was playing your secret boyfriend like a fiddle. You resisted the urge to groan aloud and just…knock the thing out of Bucky’s hand. But that would be way too suspicious. You could already feel the slow-motion car crash of this entire evening unfolding and your brain was working overtime to try to figure out solutions for worst case scenarios.
Damn it. You knew the second Tony threw in that jab that Bucky wouldn’t listen to you. And you were exactly correct when you saw his jaw flex and eyes narrow at the gold liquid. He knocked the drink back in one smooth motion. “Not scared,” he muttered, setting the glass down with a sharp clink.
You exhaled heavily through your nose. This was going to be fine. Probably.
Tony lingered by your side at the bar, looking more like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. You sipped your vodka cranberry, bracing for an impact of some sort as Tony and Bucky continued a staring competition.
“So.” Tony began finally, clapping his hands together, “you seeing anyone, Barnes?”
Bucky didn’t even finch. He just took another slow sip of his whiskey that had previously been abandoned for whatever concoction Stark had him drink. You felt the need to say something. That maybe he should wait to see if whatever he drank actually did bypass his metabolism before drinking more, but...it really wasn’t your place.
Tony, undeterred by Bucky’s usual silence, nodded toward you. “Because I know she’s single. Just saying.”
You choked a little on your drink. Bucky’s expression didn’t change, but you caught the slightest shift in his eyes before he turned back to Stark.
“No,” he said flatly. “Not seeing anyone. Don’t really have time to date.”
Tony tilted his head, studying the two of you. “Really? Huh. Thought maybe you were. Or at least were getting laid on the side. You’ve been awfully mellow lately.”
“Jesus, Tony, is it always about our sex lives with you?” You muttered.
Bucky’s lips twitched at your response, but continued, “Maybe I’m just finally getting used to your sparkling personality, Stark.”
Tony laughed, but you could tell he didn’t buy it. There was still that mischievous glint in his eye that told you this was far from the last of his meddling this evening.
You kept your expression smooth, subtle relief settling in your chest as your eyes cataloged every one of Bucky’s movements. Maybe the cocktail hadn’t hit him as hard as you’d feared it would. His metabolism must have burned it up before it had a chance to hit.
“Okay, but if you’re not seeing anyone,” Tony continued, waving a hand up and down in your direction. “I’m just saying, she’s right there. And she’s got that dangerous look in her eye I feel like you go for. Pretty sure I’ve seen her take down six enemies on her own, and she isn’t even a super soldier.”
You blew out a sharp breath, “Thanks, Stark.”
He winked, “You’re welcome.”
You felt Bucky’s gaze again, lingering for just a second too long. But it wasn’t just a glance. It was a look. And your heart stuttered in your chest because you knew that soft look. It was the one he gave you when it was just the two of you. When he kissed your shoulder in the dark or opened his arms for you to fall into after a long day. It didn’t belong here, certainly not with Stark watching so closely.
You avoided his eyes, pretending to sip your drink. Not knowing what eye contact would crack open. When Bucky had turned away, he was leaning toward Steve, whispering something low under his breath like nothing had happened. Slipping back into the perfect picture of control and composure.
But you could feel the dam breaking.
Bucky’s shoulders weren’t as tense as they usually were at these gettogethers. His grip on the glass was lazy, his smirk – he never smirked around this many people– was too relaxed. A flush was creeping up his cheeks that wasn’t fading. Whatever was in that drink was definitely doing something.
You gave it another ten minutes. Just long enough to watch Tony try to needle his way back into the conversation and Bucky wave him off with a dry comment and a dismissive flick of his fingers. And maybe that’s when you knew it for sure. He wasn’t just being careful. He was holding it together on instinct even as it was slipping through his fingers.
And you knew that if you stayed, it would just give him a reason to slip. You retreated to the safety at the other end of the room, leaving Bucky in Steve’s hands. Thankfully, Captain America hadn’t been swayed into Tony’s trap, and could maybe help hold the line a little longer.
You settled near the edge of the pool table, cue stick in one hand, trying to slow your breathing. Not that you’d been running, but…it sort of felt like you had. Running away from feelings, from the panic of people finding out. Or maybe it was just the quiet hum of hope that you were mistaking for panic. Hope that you wouldn't have to hide anymore. Or there was also the possibility it was both.
Sam lined up a shot with exaggerated focus while Clint manned the scoreboard with all the focus of an Olympic official. Natasha handed you a glass of water, raising an eyebrow as if to ask you okay? that you promptly ignored. Because saying it out loud may just set this small, yet contained fire into a five alarm blaze.
“I’m just saying,” Sam said, leaning over the table. “If I hadn’t been benched, that last guy would’ve gone down in twenty seconds, tops.”
“You were pinned under debris yelling for help,” Natasha replied without looking at him. “Steve had to practically sprint across the field to lift it off of you.”
“I was delegating,” he shot back, sinking a ball with a smug smile. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”
You spun the cue in your fingers, letting the banter settle around you like a weighted blanket. This was familiar and safe. No one over here was paying too much attention, unlike Stark who had been circling the room like a shark out for blood. But your eyes kept drifting back to the bar area. To him.
Bucky was still seated, drink in hand, turned slightly toward Steve. And it was subtle, but you still noticed the shift. A little more slouched and relaxed, a little more pink in his cheeks, smiling too wide. He was leaning in now, talking low and easy, voice soft enough you couldn’t hear it from this distance over the clacking of the pool balls and chatter. But whatever he said had made Steve glance around, expression tightening for a second.
You knew that look from him. That oh no, he’s saying way too much look.
Bucky shrugged easily, sipping from his whiskey. But then he turned back and said something and Steve actually lifted his hand in the universal stop fucking talking motion.
That…couldn’t have been good.
Your fingers tightened around the pool cue just as Natasha nudged you toward the table. “You’re up.”
∘₊✧─────✧₊∘
“You’ve gotta reel it in,” Steve said, low and around his glass, not quite looking in Bucky’s direction.
Bucky frowned, “What? I’m just talking.”
“You’re gushing. Big difference.” Steve continued. “And if you say one more word about how her hair looked on the jet, someone is going to figure it out. Probably Stark. And he’s going to blab to everyone.”
Bucky tilted his head back like he was contemplating, before his mouth pulled into a soft smile. “It was braided,” he whispered. “She looked like…a badass viking princess.”
“Jesus,” Steve muttered. “Pull yourself together, man.”
∘₊✧─────✧₊∘
Back at the pool table, you tried to focus on your shot, but your gaze kept pingponging between Steve, Bucky, and Stark who was still making his way around the room like he was taking notes. But it always landed on Bucky more often than not. Like you were pulled into his gravity even from across the room.
And sure enough, Bucky was laughing. Full on laughing. Not the dry huffs of amusements or grunts of agreement that let the person talking he at least was acknowledging them. But an honest-to-god laugh that shook his shoulders, made him clutch his chest, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The kind of laugh you only ever heard when it was just the two of you, curled up on his couch at two in the morning when he finally let himself relax.
Your stomach dropped. Because if he was laughing like that here and now? The fire was breaking containment faster than you thought it would.
He leaned toward Steve again, a little too close, voice low and words lost in the hush of a whisper. But the way his eyes softened more, the small tilt of his head in your direction…you didn’t need to hear to know what he was talking about.
And Steve looked one second away from putting duct tape over Bucky’s mouth.
You took your shot, sank a stripe ball, and forced a smile at Sam’s groan of defeat. You pretended like your pulse wasn’t kicking harder by the second and making your head throb. Because it was only a matter of time before however subtle Bucky thought he was being slipped straight into something obvious.
And you weren’t wrong.
You chalked the end of your cue, focusing on the table, and your next shot. But every nerve in your body had become tuned to him.
Another laugh carried across the room, warm and unguarded. You really needed to finish this game of pool and figure out how to get him up to his suite without being suspicious about it. Then, just as you lined up a shot, you heard a chair scrape back. You tried not to look. Really, you did. Tried to focus on the smooth glide of the cue over your fingers. But when the steady rhythm of his boots started toward you, your pulse spiked anyway.
“Don’t look now,” Clint muttered behind you, spinning the pool rack in his fingers. “But Barnes is on the move. Guess that shit Tony gave him really did pack a punch.”
Natasha’s voice beside you held the barest trace of a smirk. “Oh, this should be good.”
Before you had a chance to tell either of them to shut up so you could focus, you felt the pool cue steady in your hands like someone grabbed it. A second later, a familiar arm wrapped low around your waist and pulled you back against a wall of heat and muscle.
“There you are, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured into your ear, his voice too soft for anyone else to hear, but his actions were speaking for themselves. “Thought you left me to the wolves at another Stark party.”
Your entire body went stiff. Nat’s grin only widened. Sam actually choked on his drink.
“Hey, Buck,” you said slowly, handing your cue to Natasha before it could clatter to the floor. “You feeling okay?”
“Mhm.” His chin settled on your shoulder, heavy, like it belonged there. Which, okay, it did, but not in this capacity. His breath was warm against your neck as he pressed a lazy kiss just below your ear that sent a shiver down your spine. “You smell nice. Like...strawberries.” He paused, then hummed. “And danger.”
Natasha stifled a choked laugh. Sam had to turn away and look way too interested in the ceiling to hide his grin. Clint squinted at the two of you like he was trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
And you were trying not to combust on the spot.
“Okay,” you said, gently prying yourself free. “Come with me, let’s get you some water.”
Bucky followed without hesitation, a big six foot tall shadow. His hand slipped into yours, fingers lacing like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you didn’t spend every day carefully avoiding exactly this.
A part of you wanted to chastise him for even drinking whatever Stark had coerced him to. But it was no use. It would be like arguing with a giant toddler the way he was swaying and stumbling slightly beside you, your hand the only thing he had to anchor him into not falling over. Not that you could stop it if it did happen. Even you weren’t that strong.
The other part though? Was…actually a little relieved. His show of affection had all but outed your relationship to those of the team who didn’t know. You didn’t have to hide anymore. And the fact that he went straight to you in this moment of vulnerability made your heart do cartwheels in your chest.
Once he was sober though? He was absolutely getting an earful about being dared into getting this wasted.
You glanced over at him as you walked him to the elevators. His cheeks still a rosy pink, eyes completely unfocused, but shining like he was the happiest man alive.
“You,” he said suddenly as you reached the elevator. “Are under citizen’s arrest.”
He tried to pull you closer to him, but missed spectacularly and ended up nearly face planting into the wall.
You raised an eyebrow, pressing the button for the elevator. “For…what, exactly?”
“For stealing my heart,” he said, leaning his shoulder on the wall. His face told you he was absolutely serious.
He grinned, proud and lopsided, completely smug like he’d just delivered the greatest pickup line in his life.
You groaned, running a hand over your face. “God, you’re lucky you’re handsome.”
That made him gasp in shock, “You think I’m handsome?”
Your eyes flicked to the elevator display above the metal doors like maybe they would open faster if you stared hard enough. If he was going to keep being this…unabridged the last thing you wanted was for some poor Stark Tower intern to have to hear what drunk Sergeant Barnes called flirting. ”We’ve been dating for eight months, Bucky.”
“Still!” he said, like this was a new development. Like you hadn’t called him every adjective and version of cute and handsome before. “You’ve never said it like that.”
“I’ve said it while my mouth was on your mouth. And other places.”
He looked scandalized. “I rest my case,” he mumbled, then leaned forward, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Criminal behavior. I really should cuff you for saying that.”
“Absolutely not.”
The doors dinged open, and somehow, he managed to walk in without face planting. You punched the button for his floor while he leaned against the back wall, swaying slightly as the elevator rose. He was shamelessly running his gaze up and down your body, and you just had a feeling what was coming next.
“Did you know,” he said, completely unprompted. Yep, here it comes. “You’re really pretty?”
You sighed. “Yes, you’ve told me.”
“And like…really smart. Smarter than that Doctor Strange guy, that’s for sure.”
“Bucky.” You couldn’t help the chuckle that let your lips at that.
“And also part-witch I think? Because I swear to God you hexed me with those eyes of yours.”
You miraculously made it to his suite without further incident. Barely. He had tried to go in at least 3 wrong doors, muttering they all looked the same.
As soon as he entered, he kicked his boots off unceremoniously and left them by the door. His leather jacket was shrugged off like it weighed fifty pounds and tossed on the nearest chair. And then he collapsed onto his back on the bed with a satisfied groan.
You stood there for a second, hands on your hips, wondering if he was going to pass out right away or continue to declare his undying love. Or maybe vomit everywhere. Honestly, all three of those felt equally possible at this point.
Moving to the mini fridge, you grabbed a bottle of water and set it on the night stand closest to him, and then put a bottle of tylenol next to it for good measure. You bit the inside of your cheek while trying to figure out if you could get him out of his jeans and t-shirt with both of your dignities intact.
You nudged at his arm, knowing what you would want if you were in this state of inebriation. And that was to wake up in something soft. “Sit up, Barnes, you’re not sleeping in denim. I don’t care how indestructible you are.”
“Denim’s fine,” he mumbled into the pillow. “And don’t call me Barnes, you only do that when I’m in trouble.”
“Denim’s uncomfortable,” you countered, still tugging at his arm, but he was an immovable, drunk object that wouldn't budge. “And you’re not in trouble, just…come on. Help me out here.”
To your surprise, he actually sat up at your insistence, though he was swaying dangerously like he was on a boat at sea. He looked up at you with that lazy smile, like you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “Arms up, please.” You requested as you pulled the hem of his shirt over his head.
He obliged, but it was not without comment. “You could at least take me to dinner first,” he said, completely earnest. “Before you undress me.”
“Jesus,” you muttered, tossing his shirt aside. “Pants next, I’m trying to make sure you’re comfortable. Whatever you’re imagining is off the table.”
Your hands carefully undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and somehow you were able to shimmy him free. “God it’s hot when you take charge,” he said, and you choked down a laugh.
“Alright tough guy, come on,” you murmured softly, adjusting his body into a position you thought maybe his sober self would find comfortable. “Get some rest so I can tease you mercilessly about this in the morning.”
As you reached to tuck the blanket around him, his hand caught your wrist. Warm fingers curled around yours, gently pulling at you until you met his gaze. “I’m being so serious though,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, like a toddler telling a secret.
His eyes were half-lidded, soft like he might actually pass out any second, but still blinking to keep his focus on you. The goofy grin was gone, replaced by a look of steady adoration.
“I’m gonna marry you someday,” he whispered. “As soon as you let me.”
You felt your heart actually stop at that admission. He didn’t even seem to notice the way your whole body froze, like he hadn’t just said something that tilted the world on its axis. He just kept blinking at you like he was stating facts.
“I picked out a ring the week you joined the team,” he added, voice barely above a whisper. “Knew it then. You came in swinging and didn’t take any shit and I thought…that’s her. That's the one I want."
Your mouth dropped further open the more he said. You weren’t even sure you were actually breathing or if your body had just gone into catatonic shock. Because you knew he meant, and there was a possibility he wasn’t going to remember any of this.
You sat beside him, holding his hand until his eyes drifted shut, and his breathing evened out.
“Okay,” you whispered, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. “We’ll talk about this when you’re not drunk off questionable Stark moonshine.”
“M’not drunk,” he pouted, eyes still closed. “'M so in love with you it hurts.”
Your heart clenched in your chest. You didn’t say anything else. Didn’t really trust your voice not to break. You just sat quietly beside him, hand still tangled with his, thinking about how absurd and perfect this all was.
Your phone buzzed in your back pocket.
Tony Stark [1:07 am]:
Knew it. Called it. Happy for you kids.
You groaned softly and dropped your head to your chest. Trust Tony Stark to text at the exact second your heart was exploding from new revelations.
Still, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Not tonight with Bucky’s fingers warm in yours, his breathing evening out as sleep finally pulled him under. The echo of his words still humming your chest.
I’m gonna marry you someday.
You brushed a bit of his hair back from his face before you turned to lay and snuggle into his side, where you belonged. A smile forming on your lips despite the chaos you knew was waiting for you in the morning.
“Yeah, Buck,” you whispered into his chest as his heartbeat thudded under your ear. “I think you will.”