Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

6. BUCKY: Netflix and Not-So Chill

You risk glancing behind me into the kitchen. Bucky has the milk jug lifted up to his lips, readying to take a big gulp. You bite down on my tongue to keep from laughing as he rolls his eyes and braves the consequences. Then he brings a finger to his lips, swearing you to silence with a cheeky wink.

Ornery bastard. Dangerously handsome ornery bastard, more like it.

You shake those thoughts away.

"You gonna watch this with us, Buck?"

Bucky comes wandering into the living room with a bowl of grapes. "Sure. I don't have anything better to do."

"Wow. You really do know how to make your friends feel special," you sarcastically quip.

Bucky shrugs once while walking in front of you. "I've never been one for flatteries."

Sam snorts, "Clearly."

Bucky seems to be heading towards one of the chairs. You don't really think twice about patting the spot beside you. It's to your right because Steve's to your left—lounging on the corner with his phone in his face before the movie starts. Sam's on that other chair just beyond.

You're pleasantly surprised when Bucky actually choses to follow the recommendation and sit beside you. You! He sits next to YOU!

Dear lord, he smells even nicer than you remember.

"Found it!" Sam cheers of his own lame success. "God, this is gonna be goooood."

Bucky surprises you yet again when he reaches across his lap and into yours with his human hand for a scooping of popcorn. With your wide eyed reaction he says, "Mind if I share?"

"Not at all. As long as I get some of that," your point to his lap then curse yourself.

The fucking grape bowl has been moved to the coffee table.

"Oh fuck, I meant the grapes." You're blushing, you can tell. He's snickering now. "I meant the grapes, actually. Not—not that," you gesture to the space between his legs again. Your eyes can't seem to avert from the soft bulge in his sweatpants. You look to the ceiling for a moment. God bring you strength. "I should just stop while I'm ahead."

"Oh sweetheart you're way past that," Bucky chuckles. He doesn't seem thrown off by your stupid blabbering in any way. In fact, he looks a bit tickled.

"Shut up you two. The movie's starting. And put away your phone, Rogers!"

It's only thirty minutes into the film that Sam falls asleep. He's snoring like a goddamn tow truck on the other side of Steve. Fifteen minutes go by after that and Bucky's out cold, too. Then a few minutes more pass and Steve's phone is ringing. He says it's something about a mission and he can't let it go to voicemail, so he runs into the hall and then up the elevator to take the call in private.

So then it's just you and two sleeping superheroes.

You do a pretty good job at ignoring them for a while. Well, Sam's hard to ignore because of the snoring. But Bucky? Goddamn, he's hard to ignore because—well, because fucking everything. His beautiful brown hair, his gorgeous cheekbones, that lovely soft skin that's been revealed on his face since he last shaved, the toned torso through the thin cotton shirt, the peachy pink pout, the turned cheek against the pillow, and his metal arm that lingers so, so close to you.

The arm; it's, it's bloody gorgeous. You don't quite know how else to describe it. It fits him well. You can't imagine him without it. It's a work of art, but then again so is he.

You've never touched it before. He's very secretive about it, really. He's graced your skin with the cold metal touch only once or twice before. You'd say it'd been on accident but you have a strong inkling that there are no such things as accidents in Barnes' life. No, he'd been very careful those times before. They'd been necessary times. They've been instances where he's initiated it. He never lets you get too close. Or is it his closeness to you that he's worried about?