Dating Game ☆ Bucky x Reader

Chapter 10

"You aren't wrong. My introducing myself to you wasn't an accident. I followed you for a few weeks." She shrugs slightly before continuing. "I thought you might know something that you didn't."

"What was it? The thing you thought I knew?" you asked, a little taken aback by the thought that you of all people might know something that warranted a masterful assassin stalking you.

"Classified. I'd tell you if I could, but I can't. What I can tell you is that you should be happy you aren't involved."

"It's because I work for Stark, isn't it? I've never met the man. I just answer phones and unlock doors."

"Different question. What happened with you and James? You fit well, yeah? I'm picky about who I set him up with. Everything went okay?" Natasha said, anxiously twisting her fingers.

You sigh, "It took us a bit to warm up, but the date was...amazing. He stayed over because I was drunk." Natasha lifts an eyebrow. "Oh not like that. He slept on the couch and then made pancakes. He was worried, and was right, that I'd be super sick."

Natasha bursts into laughter, "Yeah. That sounds about right. It also means he likes you. Do you have any clue where he went after he left here?"

"He...uh...he stormed off because I was asking questions about his prosthetic. He didn't mean for me to see it. I guess I said the wrong thing and out the door he went." You let out a heavy sigh, guilt washing over you.

"Oh fuck, yeah, that'll do it. I have a pretty good idea where he probably went, then. I'll text you when I find him." Natasha stands up and starts for the door.

"You're leaving? Already?"

"I've gotta go find his dumb ass."

---

A week went by with barely a word from anyone. You got a dismissive "I've got him." text from Natasha a few hours after she left your apartment, but you didn't hear another peep out of either of them. You didn't see Natasha during your early morning coffee runs. Your texts went unanswered. You're getting worried.

The man needs his space, clearly. Maybe you could, just by sheer manufactured happenstance, have a drink at that lovely bar you went to since the weekend is quickly approaching. That sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan. The food is, after all, delicious.

You go through your closet and lay out an outfit, the idea forming in your brain. It might not be the most well laid of plans, but you want to apologize and, for lack of better judgment, want to see him again.

--

Frustrated, you step out of the bar, pulling your phone out of your pocket to call for an Uber to get back home. You could've sworn you would find him in here tonight with as stressed as he had been. His favorite little waitress hasn't seen him either.

You take a step back behind the building to see if his rusted-out old bike is sitting there. The alleyway is empty. You are on the verge of giving up and going home, assuming that the man has just ghosted you when you hear a voice behind you.

You turn your eyes into the floodlight on the corner of the building. A backlit man is walking toward you. "Hey gorgeous, need a ride?" he shouts across the lot.

You shout, "No, I'm good. Thanks, though." You step backward and wave your phone at him. The singular figure splits into three as they advance on you.

Your back hits the brick wall hard as they finally step out of the shadow. Your heart is in your throat, and the likely outcomes of this situation are already running through your mind, and none of them are good. Your nerves have you so high strung you taste copper from chewing on the side of your tongue.