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^^A mission gone sideways has you and Bucky taking cover together. The close quarters make it impossible to avoid the tension between you — though you'd both rather pretend it's not there.^^
Snow pelted your face, sharp and unforgiving, but that was the least of your problems right now.
"Move over," Bucky muttered, shoving his shoulder into yours. "I can barely breathe in here."
"Oh, I'm sorry," you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're the one who thought a shed the size of a closet was the perfect hiding spot."
"Better than out there getting shot at," he snapped, adjusting his position and bringing your faces a little closer. His breath, hot and faintly minty, ghosted over your cheek.
Of all the people in the Avengers, you and Bucky had never gotten along. It was the way he acted like he was always right, like his plans were the best. He never hesitated to throw in a snarky comment about your own suggestions. And now, thanks to a blown mission in the mountains of Eastern Europe, here you were, crammed in a freezing shed with no one but the guy who thought "tactical stealth" meant "annoying everyone within ten miles."
The silence stretched, filling with the tense thrum of unsaid insults. Until he chuckled under his breath.
"What?" you demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Nothing." His smirk was infuriating. "Just didn't expect you to get all flustered being this close to me."
Your eyes narrowed. "I'm not flustered. It's just — there's no space. And you're...in my space." You swallowed, hating the way his cocky grin seemed to grow.
"Sure," he murmured, leaning closer. "I could move if you want."
You were about to retort when the shed door burst open, revealing a face you really didn't want to see. Hydra goons. They'd found you.
You reacted in sync — moving together as you'd done a hundred times before, years of missions kicking in. You blocked, he punched, and in minutes, you were both panting in a pile of snow with three unconscious bodies around you.
"That was actually...pretty good," you admitted, shaking the snow out of your hair.
"Don't act so surprised," he replied, looking pleased with himself. "I'm good at what I do."
"Yeah, you're fantastic at punching people," you said, rolling your eyes. "It's the talking where you fall short."
His gaze darkened, and he took a slow step closer, your pulse suddenly going haywire. "Maybe I'm better at it than you think."
"You wouldn't dare." You tried to sound fierce, but your voice was softer than you wanted it to be.
"Oh?" His eyebrows rose as he leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. "What's stopping me?"
You barely managed a breath before he closed the gap, his mouth brushing over yours in a kiss that should have been rough, a battle of wills. But instead, it was hot and slow, teasing in a way that had you melting faster than any enemy attack could've managed.
When you pulled back, dazed and a little out of breath, he was smirking again — but this time, it held a warmth you hadn't seen before.
"Guess I'm full of surprises," he murmured.
Your hand shot up to shove him, but it came out half-hearted. "You're still the worst."
"Then why're you smiling?"
You groaned, feeling your cheeks warm as you looked away. "This doesn't mean anything, you know."
He chuckled, tugging you closer. "Sure it doesn't."
