Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

24. Y/N's Bitches Part 3

You thank the AI and then flop back onto your bed—still wearing Bucky's sweatshirt, but now looking at the lock-screen picture of you and Steve bungee jumping in Hawaii on your phone.

Me: I'm going to tell them in person. I love them both, I owe them that much.

Mr. Katniss: Yeah, but you're only IN LOVE with one of them.

Me: yes.

Mr. Katniss: Damn this is like the bachelorette! Can I come and watch??

Main Witch Bitch: Get out, Clint.

Me: I don't even want to watch.

That night you spend pretty much alone. You see Bruce in the kitchen once, and he asks if you're okay, to which you nod and finish drinking your tea. He just leaves you there at the counter where you can think in peace. He understands the usefulness of a good silence.

The next morning you're not surprised to have no new messages from either Steve or Bucky. They haven't said a single word to you since your call. But with Steve, you haven't heard from him since the call dropped, so you're worried enough to send a check-up text.

Me: Everything alright? The line went dead yesterday. I just want to make sure that you're not hurt...

Impatiently you wait for his response. In the meantime you shower and dress: wearing a pair of torn up jeans and your favorite v-neck shirt.

You're fixing your damp hair with a comb when the phone buzzes on the side of the sink. Reaching past your toothbrush cup, you see that it's from Steve.

Captain Spangles: Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for checking in.

There's a slight delay, then:

Captain Spangles: Are we gonna talk about what I said yesterday?

You sigh.

Me: Yeah, can we do it when you get home?

Captain Spangles: Of course.

Again, a delay.

Captain Spangles: Can't wait to see you.

A small smile appears on your face.

Me: You too.

Bucky's going to be home tonight, too. It'd be easier to just tell them both at once... kill two birds with one stone... but that'd be awful of you. You need to be sincere and sweet to them. If you want to salvage a friendship with the other, you have to be careful.

And you already know which one it's going to be.

One by one the teams return home later in the day. You stay up in your room, walking ruts into the carpet as you pace in tight circles, and nervously fidget with your fingers.

There's a text alert on your phone. It's from Tony. He was first home, and you asked him to tell you when the two men showed up. You're too scared to leave your room.

Stinky Stark: Here.

You panic.

Me: Here??

Stinky Stark: Yep.

Me: Well, which one??

Stinky Stark: both actually. Imagine that.

You groan. Not only do you have to do it now, you have to decide who you'll be talking to first.

Me: When people deliver bad news, do they usually do that part first or second?

Stinky Stark: usually first, to soften the blow of the second. But I prefer the other way around.

Me: Why?

Stinky Stark: makes it easier to deliver the shitty news if you know you've got the good news waiting behind it.

Me: Hmm. Good point. Thanks Tony.

Stinky Stark: any time, kiddo.

You decide that Tony's right. All these months of pining after a man have left you impatient, but delivering the bad news first will help ground you. And you won't stress about it any longer the sooner you get it over with. If you're lucky, he'll be understanding and kind...

You can only hope.

Pulling out your phone, you send a single text:

Me: Can you please come up to my room? I wanna talk to you.

Your heart is racing. Not wanting to see or hear any sort of response, you shut it on silent and toss the phone into the bedding. Glancing over yourself in the mirror you pull at your braided hair and try not to focus on the turning of your stomach or the stinging of tears in your eyes.

This is going to be really fucking hard.

Then, as you're taking your fifty-seventh deep breath, you hear a knock at the door.

...

You like to think yourself a lucky girl. And now, after having two super-soldier dreamboats admit their love to you, you find yourself in an exponentially lucky situation. But after telling one of your best friends that you didn't love him back, well, your luck seems to be running out.

You were fortunate in the fact that he didn't cry—not in front of you, at least. He nodded solemnly after you told him, and told you in return that he hadn't expected you to feel the same way: deep down he knew what your response would be. But he's glad he told you, he says, so he can start getting over you. Because you had to tell him that there was another... someone else you'd fallen in love with first.

Now you wait for the second bachelor to appear. You've sent him a text, identical to the one you sent the first man, and pace around for him to arrive now. Tony was right. Good news second is the best way to go about this. Now you can't stop grinning. Even though your first meeting was sad and nearly unbearable, you could grit your teeth and remind yourself that soon it was going to be so much better. Soon you'd be able to say the words you've dreamed to say for so long—to kiss those lips that taunt you every time they pull back in a smile...

A knock sounds at your door. You glance over yourself once more—hair and outfit perfectly pulled in the most flattering angles. Then you scurry towards the front of the apartment, trying hard not to look too eager as you pull open the door.

"Hey, doll."

A smile stretches across your face at the sight of him. Tumbleweeds turn to shooting stars in your chest where blood pumps stronger at his presence. You can smell his cologne; feel his warmth, seeping through your skin. You look up into that beautiful face as his blue eyes register the smile on yours. He smiles back—already predicting what you're going to tell him by the pure glee he sees radiating off of you.

This is it—this is him. This is the man who you've fallen in love with, and that has luckily fallen in love with you, too.

"Hey, Bucky."