Dating Game ☆ Bucky x Reader

Chapter 4

You had been pacing your apartment for the last hour wondering how awkward the night was going to be when a very heavy knock hit your door once...and then twice. You manage to stuff down the anxiety and take one last glance in the mirror before holding your breath and pulling open the door...to a very different, very clean-shaven man in a well-pressed very period-appropriate military uniform, hat and all, holding a beautiful bouquet of white lilies in his once again gloved hands. Your shock is probably visible on your face. The difference between this man and the one you met a little over a week ago is startling.

"I just want to say for the record that this wasn't my idea," the words tumble out of James' mouth quickly before he even looks up at you. "I...wow. I..uh..brought you flowers?" He clears his throat and the look of shock fades from his face, somewhat to your disappointment.

"I'll get these in some water and we can go, yeah? And I promise it wasn't my idea either. Natalie was insistent that you needed a babysitter or you'd get yourself into trouble," you say taking the lilies from him with a slight laugh, "You can come in, if you like."

He rocks back on his heels a bit in extremely shiny shoes and follows you inside, obviously taking stock of the entire apartment carefully as if he was analyzing it. "Carry those and put on a pair of flats for safety's sake, would ya? Not that wearing a dress is any safer," he says sharply, pointing at your heels as you walk to your kitchen cabinet to pull out a large glass pitcher. Seeing your confused face he continues, "My bike is parked out front. Unless you'd rather take a cab..?" He gestures in the general direction of the door.

"A cab all the way there would cost a fortune. Bike is fine," you shrug, walking to your closet to grab a pair of black ballet flats after making sure the flowers were tucked safely into the pitcher. They really are beautiful. Lilies are even your favorite. You wonder if Natalie knew.

You hadn't been on a motorcycle in years - at least since you were a teenager. A cab would be more expensive and significantly less fun.

Trading out your shoes and grabbing your purse from the hook on the wall, you open and hold the door. James straightens his back and sarcastically salutes you. You hear a curt, "Yes, ma'am," before he follows you out the door. You stifle a laugh.

You weren't exactly sure what you expected once you stepped out of the door of your building, but it definitely wasn't the strange combination of random pieced together parts that was sitting in front of you. You aren't even sure how it was held together. It was very much frankenstien'd together from, you guessed, random junkyard parts. Each piece was a different color, some of the metal rusted and banged up.

"She runs, promise. I just needed something to keep my hands busy when I...came back into town. So, voila. Give me those," he says as he sticks his hands out for your shoes and purse and removes his hat before sticking all three in the saddlebags strapped to the back. You must have a more confused look on your face than you think. Dark hair falls down and frames his face...which he seemed rather aggravated at as he smooths it back behind his ear. Handing you the only helmet, he swings his leg over the bike and looks at you expectantly, "You have done this before, right?"

A crease forms between your eyebrows at the tone of his voice, "It's been a while, but yes. Only one helmet?" You strap it over the curls you worked so hard on, slightly disappointed that they will likely be flat by the time you get across town.

"I don't really need it. Now come on, I want to get a good table....and make sure you tuck that skirt in around you. Don't need to flash the whole city," he says, waving you over with an impatient outstretched hand.

You pick up the hem with one hand and use his to balance so you can settle onto the back of the bike. His hand held your weight like you were a 5 lb bag of flour. It didn't budge. Doing as you're told, you make sure your dress is tucked under you as well as you possibly can. He takes the hand he's still holding and sits it against his waist. You're a little shocked that the uniform feels like actual wool. You place your other hand carefully on his other side.

You hear him let out a loud sigh and an exasperated, "Oh for fucks sake," before he grabs both of your hands, nearly yanks you forward, and clasps them together in front of him, "Actually hang on, alright? I can't have you falling off the back because you're shy."

-----

The drive across town wasn't really marked by anything interesting aside from the fact that you usually walked or took the subway. He did, however, weave aggressively in and out of traffic to the point that you were queasy. The guy must have a deathwish. He wasn't kidding about you needing to hold on tight - not that you complained. He smelled nice, like moss and roses.

-----

The good thing about motorcycles is that you can park them in the damndest places. Finding parking wasn't that difficult since you were sitting in the alley behind the building.

"First you didn't want to hold on to me and now you won't let go. It's okay. We're stopped. You can let go now," he said with a quiet chuckle.

You pull your hands back from around his waist with a long exhale, "Okay, so I wasn't lying when I said it had been a while. That was a little more anxiety inducing than I expected. They're okay with you parking back here?"

"They don't mind, I'm here most nights that I don't want to be alone," he answers, shockingly admitting something actually real to you.

You carefully hop off the back of the bike and smooth out the pleats of your dress. Now that your anxiety is subsiding a little, the normal sounds of the city pour into your ears - the honking, the yelling, the constant engine roar. Mixed in with the typical noises you are used to is the sound of a house jazz band warming up wafting through the door propped open on the back of the nondescript building.

"Can I have my shoes and my purse back?" you ask, not wanting to dig through the bags yourself to find them.

Quietly he nods, reaching into the saddlebags and handing you the items you seek. You slip your flats off and hand them to him before you squeeze your feet into the white heels. You double check the contents of your small purse - a mirror, your lipstick, your wallet, your phone. Just the essentials.

James pulls his hat out of the other bag and tosses your black shoes into the bag in its place. He holds his hair up with one hand and squarely returns the hat to the position it was in before the ride over - tilted at an angle that you were sure wasn't regulation. He tucks the remaining bits of hair under his hat and smiles awkwardly at you.

He walks over, unceremoniously unzips your purse and tosses the keys inside. You give him a pretty threatening glare, any man should know better. He shrugs, "What? You have a whole damn handbag. You can carry the keys. Shall we, doll?" He raises his arm as if expecting you to take it.

A heavy sigh and a roll of your eyes later, you snake your arm through his. He pats your hand lightly, "It's alright. We can handle one night out unsupervised and around people. I don't particularly wanna be here either," he says, flashing a small half-smile in your direction.