A/N: Oof. So much pining and confusion in this bitch.
Put on Fleetwood Mac, The Doors, or Jimi Hendrix and get ready, babes.
~
The last few days had been painful to say the least.
Since Dove's parents had returned home Sunday night, her mom was trying to coddle her to an irritating extent. Not that Dove was too surprised by the reaction to her injury. Sarah was a natural caretaker and she made it no secret that she loved when her kids needed her help.
As boring as it was, spending days in bed allowed Dove to get a lot of writing done. She would journal frequently and had even written a couple short stories. A lot of the time— as much as she hated to admit it— she found inspiration from her confusing feelings about Bucky.
Finding herself caught on the phrase 'I thought he didn't like me'. Not only inking it down on paper, but finding the sentiment repeating itself over and over again in her mind like a broken record.
She had thought over their evening together in her head dozens of times. Running over the looks and touches and statements that resonated with her. But it seemed like the more she thought, the more puzzled she felt.
Their interactions had been far and few between since then. Bucky was still staying over at the Rogers' house, but he would always slip out before noon. Running off to whatever it was that he did with his time and was usually gone for the remainder of the day, returning late in the evening to make sure he could avoid Dove as much as possible.
He didn't want to be so distant with her, especially since their time together had been such a big step in the right direction, but he wasn't sure if he could trust himself. The more time he spent thinking it over, the more clear it was to him that he had some sort of attraction to the girl.
He had convinced himself that all he really wanted was just one night with her. Just one night— one hour, even— if only to determine whether he wanted her for another night and then maybe one more after that. But what Bucky didn't realize, was that wanting to test desire is nothing more than a ruse to get what one wants without having to admit just how bad they really want it. And he did. He really fucking wanted it.
The thing was, whenever he actually saw Dove over those few days, he reacted like she was a hot iron. Instantly recoiling in on himself at the mere sight of her and seemed almost scared to get too close. Every time they had seen each other in passing, he wore the same harsh expression. The self directed upset came off as something bordering on impatience and unspoken rage, leaving Dove feeling completely shut out by him.
Early one morning, she had bumped into him in the hallway upstairs during one of her uncomfortable hobbles over to the bathroom. He watched her struggle to walk, unsure if he should help her or not. Trying to stifle the part of himself that found her disheveled appearance endearing. He liked how thin her pajama shirt was and how her hair was messily strung about her features. Maybe a bit too much. He was only able to mutter a barely audible "hi."
Dove had said nothing back to him, barely sparing him a glance, but she felt his eyes bleeding into her back as she continued her embarrassing limp down the hall.
All that to say, being on bed rest for days with only her contradictory thoughts to keep her company, she was desperate to get out. Practically diving out of bed the second her parents were gone for work. It was the first day there was no pain when she stood to her feet, so she knew she was ready to get back to enjoying her summer.
She took a long shower. Shampooing her hair and even shaving her legs for the first time since she was injured. It was something that had been much too hard to do with only one working leg and bandaged knees up until then.
Once she was all clean and had rewrapped her knees in smaller bandaids, she got dressed for the day and as always— left her hair unbrushed to dry on its own. As she stormed down the stairs and rounded the corner, she nearly slammed into someone's chest. When she stepped back and tilted her head to look up, she found Bucky standing in nothing but a pair of shorts.
Dove's eyes widened at the sight of him. Looking his built chest over, a golden chain resting just over the few tiny stray hairs in the valley of his pecks. His muscles were shaped in a way that was practically forcing her eyes further down his body. She blinked at how his chiseled abs formed into a perfectly cut v just above his dangerously low-hanging shorts.
She hadn't seen him shirtless in years. Possibly since middle school when his body was still boyish. Either way, what stood before her was a shock. And a good one at that. He wasn't that same little punk she once knew. He was a man.
As much as Bucky tried to force himself to continue that same distant exterior, seeing Dove ogling at his body made it break in an instant. "Like what you see?" he asked with a grin, unable to help himself.
Her brows shot together, face snapping into a glare in an instant as she looked back up to meet his eyes. "No."
Bucky chuckled. "Sure you don't," he smarted, sounding completely unconvinced by her response. He was positively elated by her reaction. He knew he looked good and her expression was fucking priceless to him.
Dove clenched her jaw. "So what, you're just— just walking around the house shirtless now? D-did you forget you don't actually live here? You can't just—" she sighed, collecting herself, "you should put a shirt on."
"I was going to go read outside for a bit before I go run some errands and I just figured I could catch some rays," he explained with a shrug before finally registering her appearance. He hadn't seen her that put together in days. She had clearly showered and was back in one of her adorably skimpy outfits.
Trailing down, he took note of how she was putting her full weight on both feet. "You seem all better now... care to join me?" He couldn't stop himself before the offer came out. God he was weak.
"I already have plans," she said, purposely being cryptic in her response. It was a lie, plain and simple. She had no idea what she was headed to do. All she knew was that she wanted to leave the house.
Bucky hummed in response, partially relieved she had refused the offer. "Where are you headed?" he asked, calling her bluff.
Her eyes narrowed. "Why the hell would I tell you?"
Despite the anger set off by her biting response, his attention was caught on the fact that she'd be going out again. He thought to himself for a moment, seemingly apprehensive. "Are you taking your bike?"
"What else would I take?" Dove responded harshly.
"Jesus I don't know, I was just asking," he shouted, throwing his hands into the air, exasperated with her incessant attitude. He huffed out a breath, turning to walk to the back door. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he glanced back over his shoulder to watch Dove lacing her shoes. "Just... just be careful okay? I'll be here for a bit, so call me if you need anything." His words were still slightly bitter, but he looked like a kicked puppy.
Although he just wanted her to be safe, he still felt stupid for even caring.
Dove froze just as she was about to loop her shoelace around the other, glancing over to him in confusion. "I will, thanks."
I thought he didn't like me.
With her shoes strapped to her feet, she grabbed her bike from the front steps of her house and took off down the street. She rode through the neighborhood sorta aimlessly. Enjoying the feeling of sun on her skin more than anything. She ended up just taking the long way to the Maximoff's, like she honestly figured she would. No matter what her intentions were she always found her way to their place.
Dropping her bike down to the grass of their front lawn, she skipped up to the front door, shoving it open without a second thought like always. She followed the sounds she heard in the kitchen to find Wanda eating in the small breakfast nook with a box of cereal and a carton of milk beside her on the table.
The bright morning sun was beaming in from the windows behind her, making her long red hair look like strings of shimmery copper. She was in her pajamas, yawning between bites and looking over the comics section of the newspaper sitting opened next to her.
Without a word, Dove grabbed a bowl and spoon for herself and plopped down across from Wanda. Pouring herself a mountain of cereal and sending a waterfall of milk over top.
"Morning," Wanda said through a mouthful of cereal.
"Morning."
Wanda put two and two together as they sat eating in silence for a moment. "I'm guessing your ankle is better," she said, pointing at her with her spoon.
"Much better," Dove responded, letting the silence settle for a moment before speaking. "So, I um, I did something."
"And what is that?" Wanda asked sleepily, still staring at her bowl.
"I withdrew from RCC. I called yesterday and took care of it."
Wanda's eyes widened, instantly shaking her from her daze. "I'm sorry, what? Where are you gonna go then?"
"Nowhere. You know the only reason I wanted to go to college was to get out of Roseworth and if I'm stuck here anyways, why put myself through it? I've been thinking it over and I figured I could just work and save up money to publish a book."
"Seriously?" Wanda beamed back at her from across the table.
Dove smiled, nodding her head. "Yeah, I mean there's the whole breaking it to my dad thing, but he can't hate me forever right?"
Wanda hummed in agreement as she mixed up the contents of her bowl. "Exactly. It's better to do something and ask for forgiveness, rather than ask for permission. But whatever you need, I'm always here to help," she said, feeling prouder than ever of Dove's ballsy decision.
"Thanks, Wands." Dove smiled. It was rare for her to feel supported by her family, so hearing someone tell her she wasn't facing something alone was a godsend. "It's probably going to be a rough conversation, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there." She waved her hand, brushing off her worries.
Pietro walked into the kitchen, punctuating their conversation. He did a sleepy double take when he saw the girls at the table, giving them a silent nod with his messy platinum bedhead. He shuffled his feet, headed straight to the coffee pot on the counter. "What are you two doing today?" he grumbled over his shoulder.
"What do you want to do today?" Wanda repeated, looking back at Dove.
Dove snorted, replying with the question that always rang painfully true to her: "what is there to do around here?" It was something most locals would ask themselves, laughing it off and then proceeding to settle for some mundane activity, like it was no big deal. But not Dove. It sucked never having anything to do in her hometown. There was the theater, the bowling alley, the diner, and the bar—which they couldn't even get into yet. Besides that, there was quite literally nothing.
"We could go see a movie," Wanda suggested unenthusiastically. It was their go-to activity, so neither of them were surprised when they ended up on their bikes making that same ride they had a hundred times before.
When they approached the ticket counter, they were quickly brushed off and pushed inside for free thanks to the fact that Dove knew the owners well, having worked there every summer since she was fifteen up until this year.
They stocked up on candy, popcorn, and soda, then made their way into the theater.
There was nothing quite like hiding away from the summer heat in a dark, air-conditioned room, staring at a big screen while stuffing your face with junk food. Albeit it wasn't the most exciting activity, Dove was just happy to be out of the house.
Being that they were literally the only people in the theater, they talked through most of the movie. Feeling like they were on the couch, rather than out in public. Wanda scooted over a few seats and they shifted to face each other, taking turns tossing pieces of popcorn into the other's mouth and trying to catch them. "So will you tell me now what happened with Bucky?"
Dove's eyes lit up, forgetting she hadn't told her the details yet. When Wanda had called the day after she hurt her ankle, she kept the conversation vague, since Steve was just behind her in the kitchen. Simply stating that Bucky had picked her up and helped her out. "Dude, it was so weird. We were like... nice to each other. Like we were just hanging out on the couch and we drank a little and I don't know..." her voice drew off.
"Woah, woah, woah. Rewind." Wanda held up a hand, confused. "So you crashed your bike and then what happened?"
"I called him from the diner and he rushed straight there, which was weird in and of itself. Like he was so willing to help me, ya know? Like he actually cared that I was okay," Dove said, eyes lost in thought.
Wanda nodded slowly, processing the information.
"He bandaged up my knees outside the diner," Dove recalled, pointing to the bandages that were still on them, replaced a few times since, "then he drove me home, and he laid me on the couch and took care of me. It was so odd seeing him like that."
"I guess that is kinda... out of character," Wanda agreed halfheartedly. She thought that was just what everyone would do, but then reminded herself that Bucky had always been a bit self-absorbed, especially around Dove. She figured he would've just driven her home and left her to fend for herself, so the fact that he actually cared for her was a bit of a shock to say the least.
"He's probably just grown up." Dove shrugged, trying to not think too much more about it like she had been for the last few days. "I mean he's in his twenties now. He's probably just over being my childhood antagonist."
"Yeah, probably," Wanda laughed, staring at the screen for a bit while she chewed on a piece of licorice. "Wait, you said you had a drink with him?" She remembered suddenly from when Dove first started babbling about her experience.
Dove took a sip of her soda as she nodded. "I asked for some medicine because my ankle hurt so bad, but he could smell the beer on my breath and didn't want me mixing substances or something—"
"So he got you drunk instead?" Wanda interrupted in disbelief.
"Well, not drunk, but he let me take a few pulls from a bottle of whiskey."
"Gross. I fucking hate whiskey."
Dove laughed. "I now know I do too. It was disgusting, but it did help with the pain," she explained, "it was funny actually, I was giving him shit for being too uptight like Steve and then when he stormed out I thought I pissed him off, but then he came back with a bottle in his hand."
Wanda saw a twinkle of something in Dove's eye that she couldn't quite place. It almost looked like fondness? Or maybe even attraction? Wanting to test her friend, she nodded, casually resting her head back on her seat as she let out a provoking, "like a cool older brother, almost."
Dove's eyes shot wide at that. "He is not like my brother."
Wanda beamed at the urgent deflection of her response, laughing to herself that she took the bait— unintentionally revealing herself, whether she realized it or not. "Why, 'cause you wanna fuck him?" she pushed.
"Shut up, Wands," Dove giggled, flicking a piece of popcorn at her face. "I don't want to fuck him."
They sat in silence for the rest of the movie, actually paying attention like they should've been since the beginning— or at least Wanda was. Dove's mind continued to reel over the joke that was sent her way about being into Bucky. She thought they were simply on track to being friends, but perhaps it really was more.
Once the film was over, they gathered up all their trash and picked up the stray pieces of popcorn from the floor. It was something that Dove made sure to do anytime she left, knowing firsthand how shitty it was to sweep up after people at the theater.
As they walked back out to their bikes, into the scorching heat of the day, a familiar voice came from down the sidewalk. "Is that Dove I see?"
She spun around finding her ex— she wasn't even sure what to call him— Kyle, sauntering towards her. Wearing his arrogant smile, taking long strides with his lanky legs. His curly black hair bouncing with each step, kissing his high cheekbones. A couple of his friends trailing behind him as they were just about to walk into the theater.
"What's going on, man?" she greeted right back, keeping a cool exterior.
"Party at my place tonight, babe. You coming or what?" He tilted his head as he stopped just before them.
"Didn't hear about it until now," she said, speaking in a playful tone as she looked up at him through her lashes, "seems like it'll be pretty lame if words not spreading yet."
Kyle's eyes narrowed, lips curling down at her. "It's a little last minute, but I didn't know I'd have the house to myself until this morning. I think the folks did that on purpose, so I couldn't throw a rager, but hey— I'm pretty resourceful," he chuckled, "I'm even getting a keg."
"Sounds rad. My friend allowed to come too?" Dove asked, nodding to Wanda who had been standing silent as she listened to their exchange.
"If it means you'll be there, babe, you can bring anyone you want," Kyle flirted.
Dove had to fight back an eye roll as she smiled up at him, making a mental note to invite Mj and Peter once she got home. "We'll see you later then."
Kyle sent her a wink before continuing on into the theater, feeling satisfied with the affirmation from her. The second he and his friends were inside, out of earshot, Wanda spun her head around to look at Dove with a concerned expression. "Jesus, how old is that guy now?"
"I think he's twenty," Dove guessed, looking down to the side as she did the math, "he was the year under Steve, so that sounds right."
"Are we actually going to the party?"
Dove nodded. "Fuck yeah. There hasn't been a party this summer yet and I'm dying to do something fun." The novelty of house parties had worn off for her a bit throughout high school, but Kyle was in college and that meant two things: older boys and lots of alcohol.
"I'm surprised he invited you," Wanda said with a smile growing over her face. "Maybe he's trying to get you back."
"Shut up." Dove rolled her eyes. "We had a fling last year, but I doubt he's hung up on it. Also, it's not like we were even officially together, it was just a couple months of hanging out. He's probably just trying to get a better turn out for his party by inviting us."
"He took your v-card, dude. Of course he's hung up on you."
"We actually never had sex," Dove argued, straddling her bike and pulling out into the road as Wanda followed suit, heading back to their neighborhood.
"But you did... things though right?"
"Yeah, we did things, but I didn't have sex with him. He wasn't worth giving that up. No guy ever has been to been to me."
Wanda nodded. "You're one of the smart ones, Dovey."
"Not smart, just picky," Dove laughed.
Dove and Wanda were tucked in the upstairs bathroom doing their makeup for the night. Steve had knocked on the door a handful of times over the last half an hour, yelling at them to hurry up because he wanted to shower, and yet, they were still taking their sweet time, completely unfazed by his stressing.
"How much time do we have until Peter and Mj get here?" Dove asked, leaning over the sink to draw on the eyeliner that she so rarely wore. Usually donning a bare face most days. Her tongue was pressed to the corner of her mouth in focus, trying to keep a steady hand.
"We have plenty of time, dude," Wanda said with tightened lips, swiping on another brush of gloss.
"Okay good, because I still have to change," Dove said as she tucked the last of her makeup into the drawer under the bathroom counter.
"What's wrong with what you're wearing?"
Dove looked down at her outfit as she grabbed the doorknob of the bathroom, before looking back up at Wanda. "You're kidding right? I gotta look hot if we're going to a party." She nodded over her shoulder for Wanda to follow her out.
They turned to walk to her bedroom, finding Steve sitting in the hallway up against his door with his arms folded over his chest, looking thoroughly pissed off. He was still in his grime-covered work clothes with a fresh towel folded over his lap. "You girls finally finished?"
"Uh, yeah," Dove laughed, "you been sitting out here the whole time?"
"Yes, I have. I really need to shower, I'm filthy," he snapped, gesturing to himself.
Dove snickered as she kicked open her bedroom door. "Sorry about it."
"No you're not," he mumbled under his breath as he stood from his seat.
Instantly rushing to her closet, Dove started picking through her clothes. Landing on an orange top with flowing sleeves, held together by a thin tie at the center of her breasts and a pair of brown pants to cover the bandages on her knees. She slipped them on, pairing them with some chunky platform heels to give herself some height.
After adding a bit of jewelry, she peeked over at Wanda to find her lowering the magazine she was looking at and beaming back at her with widened eyes. "So you're going for hot-hot, huh?"
"Maybe." Dove smirked. Her eyes raked over to the clock beside her bed, seeing that they had about five minutes until their friends would show up. "Let's go wait downstairs."
When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they found Sarah and Joseph sitting on the couch watching tv in the front living room. "Where are you two headed?" he asked, eyeing them suspiciously as he took a drag of his cigarette.
"A party," Dove replied simply.
"Hey, that sounds like so much fun," Sarah gushed. "Doesn't it, dear?" she asked, trying butter him up for Dove's sake as always.
Joseph ignored Sarah's question and raised a brow, giving the two girls a skeptical look. "A party huh?"
"Uh, yep," Dove said awkwardly. "It won't be wild or anything... just a little get together."
He grunted to himself, unconvinced by her response. Raising his brows in warning and using the cigarette pinched in his fingers to point, as his eyes flicked between them. "No drinking, no drugs, no sex."
"Oh my god, dad." Dove cringed, covering her face with her hands.
"We promise to be on our best behavior, Mr. Rogers," Wanda reassured him wearing one of her comforting smiles.
"Alright," he said, sounding that much more calm, but still not full convinced. He always had an odd amount of trust in Wanda. Little did he know, she single handedly provided most of the town with their weed thanks to one of her very well connected older cousins. And even in that moment— had a whole purse filled with dime bags and joints on her hip. "So, who's driving tonight?"
"Peter. And he won't be drinking tonight, I promise."
"Okay, good. He's a good kid." Joseph nodded. "Well, you girls be safe and call if you need anything. We're leaving for the beach in the morning, so don't be too loud when you get home, Dove."
"Yes, sir," she said in a fake soldier voice, mockingly saluting him, then walking down the hall. "God, they're both insane—" she whispered to Wanda before being cut off by the sound of a horn being honked from the front of the house. "Let's go," she squealed, walking to the front door.
They hopped into the back seats of Peter's car, buckling themselves in as they took off. The drive was fairly short— as were all drives in the town— just over to the neighborhood Peter and Mj both lived in, past the diner. They sped through the darkened roads, only illuminated by street lights and the neon signs of the few establishments at the center of town.
It seemed like all of Roseworth was fairly lively with it being Friday night. Teens were piled in cars, causing chaos out of the sheer boredom that living in a small town gave them. Smashing mailboxes or daring each other to steal beer from the convenience store or sneaking out to go smoke a joint at the nearby park. Doing anything they could to actually feel something.
When Dove and her friends pulled up to the house, the front lawn was already covered in guests clutching red solo cups. Music was blasting from the inside, just loud enough that they could hear it out front. Cars were pulling up, dropping people off and then swerving away to find parking. Definitely not the 'little get together' Dove lied to her dad about.
Once the car was parked, they made their way up to the house, walking right inside and shoving through the thick crowd of sweaty bodies with Dove leading the way, waving to familiar faces. It was too loud to talk, so she silently gestured for her friends to follow. The house was absolute chaos. People sliding down the banister, knocking over what they assumed were priceless family heirlooms, spilling beer on the carpets. Typical house party.
They made their way to the kitchen, where the music was a bit quieter. Finding the keg that Kyle promised sitting dead center in the nook of counters. "Jackpot," Wanda said, clapping her hands.
After they all filled cups for themselves— except for Peter, Dove wasn't lying about that— they wandered out into the living room to find an open spot to hang out. The space was dim, only lit by a single overhanging brass lamp and candles resting on just about every open surface. The music was still fairly loud, but the mood was much more relaxed compared to the rest of the party, so they all huddled up onto an open couch together, sipping on their drinks.
It didn't take long for a few people to approach Wanda, buying a couple joints for their night. "Pleasure doing business," she replied, tucking the wad of cash into her pocket, before turning to her friends. "You guys wanna get high?"
"Please," Mj said in her usual monotone voice. Sounding perpetually 'over it', no matter what she was doing.
Wanda lit a joint between her lips, passing it across the group as they each took a few puffs and washed it down with their beers. Sure enough, a few of their friends that had graduated the year before joined in, trading them drags from the joint for sips of their bottle of vodka. All of them instantly felt the effects of the substances mixing together, becoming sillier the longer they kept the rotation going.
"I'm gonna go refill my beer," Dove told the group, before scurrying off to the kitchen.
She clutched her red cup in her hand as she leaned down to fill it, the keg hissed as it sputtered out the cheap, foamy beer into her cup. When she spun back around, she saw Kyle leaned up against the fridge staring at her with a smug expression.
"Can I help you?" Dove asked, hooking her hand to her hip.
"Just enjoying the view," he said, taking a puff of the cigarette between his fingers.
"Real cute," she laughed, walking over to him. She leaned up against the counter beside him, resting her hand on the slightly sticky surface, not thinking twice about it with how intoxicated she was.
"Yeah... you are real cute," Kyle said through lowered eyes, smiling down at her.
Dove rolled her eyes. Instantly regretting her decision to start a conversation with him. "So, where are your parents?" she asked, trying to turn the conversation back to a more casual tone.
"Florida."
She hummed, bringing her cup to her lips as she stared out at the room of people. Watching as yet another person dropped their cup onto the carpet, spilling beer. "How are you gonna recover from all this shit?" she questioned, gesturing to the mess.
Kyle shrugged. "I'll figure it out later, I have a week before they're home. For now, I'm just gonna chill and enjoy the ride," he said in a playful drawl.
"Right on," Dove replied. "Hey, I uh, gotta get back to my friends, but I'll catch you later."
"Oh wait, is your redhead friend here? I wanna get another bag from her."
"Yeah, she's here," Dove nodded, "come on." She walked him back to the living room, finding her friends still sitting perched in their spots on the couch. Peter had Mj's legs strewn over his lap, holding her hand, while Wanda was grabbing cash from some guy.
"Hey Wands," Dove called over, catching her attention, "you got some more dime bags left?"
Wanda smiled, digging into her satchel and pulling out a small baggie filled with green nugs, waving it in the air for her to grab. Dove passed it over to Kyle and he pulled out a couple bills, tossing them over to Wanda.
"Thanks."
"No prob, Bob," she breezed, resting her head back on the couch as she took a sip of her beer.
Dove found her spot back on the couch beside her friends with Kyle squishing in beside her. She wanted to be rid of him, but it was his house, so she didn't say a word. Instead, just did her best to ignore the feeling of his arm draped over her shoulders.
Overall, the night was pretty fun. All of them enjoying conversation, making occasional trips to the kitchen to refill their cups, and smoking a bit more. It was around one in the morning when they felt like it was time to go. The party hit that point when people started to get sloppy and there was a girl crying in the corner— signaling their turn to head home.
Not realizing until she was actually up and walking outside, but Dove was pretty wasted. She was swaying slightly, trying to lean up against Wanda, but she was just as drunk as Dove was so there was no point. They dropped into the back seat of the car as Mj and Peter hopped into the front.
"Please don't puke in my car. Aunt May will kill me and you," Peter warned, giving them a concerned look from the rearview mirror. "If you feel sick, we'll just pull over."
"We're not that drunk, Peter." Dove rolled her eyes. "Just drive."
He shook his head, unconvinced, as he drove down the street. The drive home seemed even faster than the way there. With Mj blasting music for them, and all of them belting out the lyrics to Led Zeppelin songs, they made it to Wanda's in a flash. She hobbled out of the back seat and got to her front door before they pulled away.
"Bye bitch!" Dove lovingly yelled out the window. Blowing kisses as they sped off, earning herself a quick peace sign from Wanda before she stepped into her house.
It somehow became even more silent as they drove deeper into the neighborhood towards the Rogers' house. Getting further and further away from town center, there was nothing but homes with everyone tucked into their beds, fast asleep.
When they rolled up to the big colonial style home, Dove double checked the seat to make sure she didn't leave anything behind— knowing herself well enough to figure she'd leave something behind if she didn't— then thanking Peter for the ride and wishing him and Mj a good night.
Dove stepped out onto the sidewalk, straining her eyes in the dark to watch where she was walking in her chunky heels. The only sounds in the air were the soft scuffing of her footfalls on the paved pathway and the crickets chirping.
She miraculously reached the porch without falling over. Unlocking the front door, she stepped inside to find her house silent. Almost too silent. Perhaps it was just because she had been in loud environments all night. Her ears were still ringing from the riotous party and noisy car ride.
Figuring she'd need a glass of water to help fight her hangover, she walked down the hall to the kitchen, being as quiet as she could. When she rounded the corner, she jumped when she saw Bucky leaning up against the counter eating an apple in the dark. His figure barely illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from the window beside him. "Shit, you scared me, dude."
"Sorry," he said cooly. He was wearing pajamas— a t-shirt and pants. His usually flawless hair was slightly mussed, which was an unusual sight to Dove. The guy was always the pinnacle of perfection, so seeing him like that made a smile creep over her features. "You have a fun night?" he asked with a smirk, liking how she was staring at him.
"Uh yeah, s'pretty cool," Dove said, slurring her words slightly as she toddled over to find a glass for herself. When she reached up into the cabinet, Bucky could smell the mix of alcohol and smoke on her breath. That, along with the lack of grace of her movements, it was clear that she was pretty out of it.
He nodded, taking a bite of his apple. He chewed as his eyes stayed locked on her, taking in her intoxication, but also how fucking hot she looked. Her top was short and low-cut, so he had more than enough cleavage to stare at. Her curves were defined by the tight pants she wore that flared out around her ankles.
Feeling a pang of jealousy when he thought about who she had been around earlier in the night, dressed like that. Bucky knew it was dumb, but he couldn't help it. Dove was a babe and he knew there must've been a plethora of guys fawning over her with how good she looked.
He watched her move to the sink. Unintentionally giving him a great view of her ass. He rolled his eyes to himself, getting frustrated that he couldn't control his thoughts. He couldn't help but imagine what she'd look like bent over for him. What she'd look like under all those clothes. If she was just as pretty everywhere else.
Knowing he couldn't control his impulses for much longer, he decided to make conversation. "Your dad said you went to a party."
"Mhm," she hummed, eyes set on the faucet as she filled her glass and then chugged it down. When she went to spin back around her feet got caught on the small rug in front of the sink and she stumbled in her heels, catching herself on the counter, nearly spilling her water. "Shit," she spat with self-directed irritation.
Bucky crossed his arms, watching her struggle with an annoyed expression. Just like her feelings though, it was self-directed. He desperately wanted to help her, but he knew if he did, those feelings from when she hurt her ankle would come back. He had done so well avoiding her up until then.
He flexed his hand by his side, desperately trying to keep to himself. Giving in, he let out a huff and set down his apple as he walked towards her. Internally cursing himself for submitting to his desires. "Hold onto my shoulder," he commanded as he fell to one knee. She hesitated, confused by his order, but followed instructions and rested her hand on him as he lifted up one of her feet.
Bucky grabbed hold of the thin strap around her ankle and undid the latch, slipping the heel from her foot before moving to the next one, shrinking her down to her natural height. "You probably shouldn't be wearing shoes like these yet. What if you rolled your ankle again? You could've actually broken it this time, Dove."
"Don't patronize me," she spat, annoyed with his scolding.
He kicked her shoes to the side as he stood to his feet. Locking in on her eyes as he glared down at her with an irritation that was dangerously on the verge of becoming anger. "Leave it to you to use big words when you're smashed."
Dove snickered, unfazed by the edge in his voice, taking another sip of her water. "Maybe you should stop treating me like a child then."
"Maybe you should actually take care of yourself for once so I wouldn't have to," he snapped, narrowing his eyes.
The harsh nature of his comment caught her off guard, but egged her own anger on easily with the alcohol in her system. "Fuck off, Bucky. I don't even know why you care."
"I—" he started with raised voice, then remembering there were people sleeping upstairs, taking a breath to calm down before trying again, "I don't."
"Seems like you really do," Dove retorted, setting down her glass to focus on the argument. "Why else would you take care of me when I hurt my ankle? Or this morning, when you told me to be careful on my bike? Or now, when you're taking my shoes off for me?"
"Because you're a mess, Dove," he spoke through his teeth, in a yelling whisper. Pissed at what she was insinuating, but also at how drunk she sounded as she spoke.
Her brows furrowed, knowing it was partially true, but it still stung. She had always been that way. Living her life with very minimal regard for the future, simply diving towards whatever impulse she felt in the moment. Wasn't everyone like that when they were young? she thought to herself.
Without a word, she spun on her heel to walk away, before she felt an oversized hand grab at her wrist halting her movements. "I'm sorry, Dove. I— I didn't mean to snap like that."
"I get it." She shrugged, peeking up at him with a calmed exterior. "I shouldn't be so ungrateful. I'm glad you've been here to help me lately and I know I can be a mess sometimes."
Bucky softened at her words. Feeling a smile starting to tilt at his lips. He figured it was her blatant intoxication, but regardless, he liked that she was acknowledging that he took care of her. "You know..." he started taking a step closer to her, keeping his hold on her wrist, "as much of a mess you can be, I can't deny I find you a little entertaining."
Dove felt the air leave her lungs like she was kicked in the gut. His proximity was suffocating her. He looked so cozy in his pajamas. Why did she suddenly want to nuzzle up in his arms? Her head was tilted back to meet his gaze from his towering height. Their chests were so close, if either of them had taken a deep breath, they surely would've made contact.
"W— what does that mean?" she asked, breathlessly.
"I've been left rather uninspired this summer. Our occasional interactions have been some of the few interesting things that've happened," he admitted, lips curling.
Dove had no idea what to say. It was like someone unplugged her brain. She didn't know what it was about the man that made her feel like that, but he just did. She simply nodded, not knowing how to form words.
Bucky chuckled, quirking a brow. "You really are drunk, Dove." His hand slid up the length of her arm, to her shoulder, and landed behind her neck, stroking his thumb over her jaw. He noticed how much lighter her hair had gotten from being out in the sun. Looking almost white now against her freckled, tanned skin in the dim light of the kitchen.
Her breath had hitched at the feeling of his hand on her skin. Every last muscle in her body tensed up at the contact, knowing if she relaxed for even a millisecond, she'd be like one of those little wooden toys whose gimp-legged body collapses as soon as the mainsprings are touched. But at the same time, she didn't want the moment to end, so there she stood— rooted at the spot, gazing up at him.
The expression on Bucky's face matched hers, completely entranced by the closeness. His eyes flicked down to her lips for a moment in consideration, before looking back up to meet her stare again.
Without thinking twice about it, Dove stood on her toes. She leaned in to kiss him. Before their lips could meet, he pulled away with wide eyes, pushing her back with a strong hand. "Woah. Slow down there, honey."
Her face contorted into a frown, taken aback by the rejection. "But—" she shook her head, confused and slightly insulted, "you just looked like—"
"I wasn't going to kiss you." Bucky shrugged with a flippant expression, not thinking twice about how he hurt her feelings. "You're too drunk and... this can't happen," he said gesturing between them, "Steve would kill me with his bare hands."
Dove instantly stepped away, finding her glass of water and drinking from it as her eyes stayed glued to the floor. Overwhelmed by shame and rejection. When she finally looked back up to Bucky, he was leaning back against the counter across from her, taking a bite of his apple with a juicy crunch.
She wanted to yell at him. To go off about how much of an ass he was for touching her like that, then rejecting her kiss, and then compartmentalizing to the point that he was able to just start eating his snack like nothing had just happened. But she realized that maybe it really was in her head. She was too drunk to trust herself.
The silence was deafening. It was like they could hear the other's mind reeling. In the dim light, Dove could see the moonlight beaming in from the nearby window reflecting off Bucky's slate blue eyes, making them looking artificially bright.
"I should go to bed," she muttered, feeling embarrassed as she walked over to the sink and dumping down the water before turning to leave.
"Wait," Bucky said, halting her movements, "you should just take the glass up with you. It'll be good to wake up to some water." He stepped over to the sink and filled it back up for her, placing it back in her hand.
Dove narrowed her eyes down at the glass, wanting to refuse the offer, but instead walking away without a word. She rushed to remove her makeup and changed into some pajamas before climbing into bed. The room was spinning as she lied flat to her mattress, so she kicked one of her legs out from under the covers and rested it on the floor— a trick she had learned over the years.
She stayed still for a bit, staring at the ceiling trying to calm herself. She let her thoughts race, thinking over the eventful evening, but she kept landing back on her weird interaction with Bucky. He had been giving her mixed signals since he got back to Roseworth the week before. One minute he was glaring at her and ignoring her and the next he was taking care of her. She'd be astounded if she didn't have whiplash by the end of the summer.
The mantra from her journal rung in her mind again and again.
I thought he didn't like me.
Bucky was a walking contradiction and none of his actions ever seemed to amend that. Not tonight when he was yelling at her about being a mess or when he helped her out of her shoes and gave her water.
She thought about his fingers on her and the look in his eyes. Was she just drunk? Or was he actually staring at her like he wanted to kiss her? She felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach at the thought. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment? Or maybe it was something that had always been there?
It was in that exact moment that she realized the most terrifying thing— she was into him.
~
A/N: LORDY this snowy weather has made it so much nicer writing a story set in the summer. (MR. SUN, PLEASE COME FASTER) Hope you're all staying safe, wearing masks, and getting ready for those vaccines.
How are we feeling about this chapter? And Dove's perpetual chaos?