bucky barnes imagines

lxxxv. LOCKET [smut]

For once, you were beginning to feel like maybe the rest of your day would be okay. After the gifts came the cake, candles and singing – that was the part you hated most, but you still got through it with just a small amount of embarrassment. But of course, that hopefulness didn't last long; things began to go downhill pretty quickly after your optimism surfaced.

The issue was Sharon Carter; yes, it sounded harsh, but in this case it was true. She was just an acquaintance to you, but being... well, a "friend" of Steve's, she seemed to show up randomly whenever some kind of gathering or event was happening. So naturally, she waltzed through the door, quickly wished you a happy birthday, and proceeded to loudly, shamelessly, flirt with Bucky.

She could've chosen literally anybody else in the room, but it just had to be him. In his usual anxiety-riddled-people-pleaser fashion, he didn't shut her down immediately, but rather chose to stand there uncomfortably, while several people glanced at you to see how you'd react. The fact that others knew how you felt about Bucky usually didn't bother you, but right now? You were almost humiliated.

You tried to tell yourself not to hate Sharon – after all, she was quite possibly the only person who didn't know damn well that Bucky was off limits. But even after she'd stopped talking to him, she forced her way into the middle of everything that was supposed to be about you; as much as you didn't want to be the centre of attention, that would be much better than literally having the focus stolen from you just as you were beginning to enjoy it.

You just couldn't win. Typical.

Fighting the tears that suddenly threatened to fall, you quietly slipped out of the door and headed back to your own room. After dramatically flopping onto the bed and switching on an episode of one of your favourite shows, you huffed and thanked your lucky stars that your exit had remained unnoticed.

Or so you thought. A knock on the door made you frown angrily – you were extremely close to yelling at whoever had followed you. Until the door opened and Bucky walked in without a word; it was almost as if he knew you didn't feel like talking much. He just quietly approached and settled himself beside you, his eyes flitting between your face and the television screen.

Every so often, you shuffled slightly closer to him. It wasn't intentional, and you didn't even realise until you wound up with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist. And then the episode was over, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence, snuggled up to each other, warm and content.

"Hey," Bucky eventually spoke quietly, a little unsure of himself. "We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, but... why don't you like your birthday?"

"How did you know?" you replied with a frown, equal parts curious and confused. You'd always thought that you were great at hiding your emotions, at pretending to be enjoying yourself just for the sake of the people around you. But clearly, Bucky had seen straight through your little facade.

"I just... I know you well, I guess," he shrugged. It was true – he knew you better than anyone else, and it was all because he paid attention. Because he wanted to know you, all of you, from something as simple as your favourite colour, to your deepest secrets and your worst fears.

You nodded in agreement, remaining silent for a moment, before emitting a bitter sigh. "I don't like my birthday because something, or someone, always messes it up. So I've just learned to expect a bad day, I guess."