A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Posting this early as a treat to my babes. Love you all♥️
More pining. More frustration. But also, a lot of communication between our two love birds (pun intended)
This chapter provides a lot of insight into Bucky's thoughts and feelings. Is he communicating them? Eh, kinda. But he's bad at being vulnerable.
~
Dove's eyes squinted open and instantly scrunched back closed.
Sunlight was pouring into her room. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that she forgot to close her curtains before she went to bed. "Fucking idiot," she clipped, in self-directed fury. Pissed she drank so much the night before.
She groaned as she pulled her comforter over her head, rolling onto her side and letting out a sigh. Regret seeped into her bones. The kind one could only feel when waking up with a hangover, knowing there was no one to blame, but themselves.
Dehydration made her tongue go dry. Wishing more than anything that— her train of thought cut off, gasping in excitement when she remembered the glass of water she had left for herself the night before. She shot up, reaching for it, and chugging the whole thing down in one go. She was thankful for that, recalling that it was Bucky that told her to take it up.
Bucky.
The kitchen.
She tried to fucking kiss him. That thought alone made her nauseous.
"God what is wrong with you?" Dove whispered to herself, smacking her hands over her eyes.
She just wanted to hide in her bed all day. Not wanting to step foot out of her safe place or god forbid— run into him. But her growling stomach urged her to get up, so she flicked her covers off her head and looked over to her clock, seeing that it was already noon.
Scrambling to gather some semblance of dignity or motivation, she grabbed hold of what she could. She kicked her duvet off her legs, launching herself up from her bed in one rough movement. Dizziness hit her hard. She wobbled on her feet and bumped into her dresser to steady herself.
Still in her pajamas, she walked downstairs, keeping a vigilant eye out for her houseguest. Not that she knew what she would do if she did see him. Maybe she'd just run the other direction?
Yeah, that could work. Just avoid him for the next three months, she giggled to herself.
Wait, am I still drunk?
She became aware that she had been talking to herself and laughing at her own internal jokes. Brushing off her concerns, she continued her trek to the kitchen.
Relieved to find the room empty, she poured herself a colorful bowl of Trix cereal and found a spot at the dining room table. Enjoying the solace, she dug in, trying to fill her empty belly and hopefully cure her hangover.
Unfortunately, that fleeting bout of peace was cut short by Steve and Bucky walking in from the garage door, drenched in sweat. They had clearly just worked out together in the at-home gym their dad kept nicely stocked with state-of-the-art equipment, so Steve could stay conditioned for football year round.
Dove's stomach dropped at the sight of Bucky, but she was glad Steve was there. With another body in the room, she felt like there was buffer of sorts to keep her safe from the teasing that she was sure to endure the second they were left alone. Bucky wouldn't dare say a word in front of Steve, knowing they'd both be in deep shit if he did.
"You just gettin' up, Dove?" Steve asked, frowning at her condition before glancing over at the clock. "It's noon."
"Yeah, no shit," she said through a mouthful of cereal, "I had a late night."
"Right, the party," he laughed, "how was that? It was at that guy Kyle's right?"
"Mhm," she answered his second question, "it was fine. Just what you'd imagine— destruction of property, drugs and alcohol, violence, premarital sex, etcetera. All of your favorite things, Stevie." Her words, mockingly sweet.
Bucky failed to stifle a laugh from across the room then chugged down the glass of water he had just filled at the sink. Dove's eyes flicked to him briefly, then back to her bowl just as fast, feeling like if they made eye contact, she'd internally combust.
"I actually would've gone if I had known about it," Steve argued.
"Really? Didn't think house parties were your thing."
"I'm a college student, what do you think I do every weekend?" he replied over his shoulder, headed to pour himself a cup of coffee. He lifted the pot to Dove, silently asking her if she wanted some, being met with an eager nod as she chewed.
"Well, maybe I'll let you know next time I hear about one," she said, after she finally swallowed her bite of her cereal, "as long as you're not gonna try to babysit me the whole time you're there."
"Eh," Steve shrugged, walking over to set down a mug of coffee for her, "I guess you're an adult now. I can't be too hung up on what you choose to do with your time."
Or... who she chooses to do, Bucky finished in his head. Catching himself, trying to brush off the glimmer of hope that Steve's words spurred in his mind, he set his glass down in the sink and sputtered a rushed, "I'm gonna go shower," as he jogged out of the room.
"Don't take too long. I gotta rinse off before I go to work," Steve called back. He plopped down in the seat beside Dove, taking a long sip of his coffee while she did the same. "So, what's the plan for the day?"
"Probably just going to try and nurse this hangover," Dove muttered.
Steve laughed into his mug, eyeing her over the ceramic that was pressed to his lips. "Well, I'll be working pretty late, but I think Bucky will be here all day, since it's the weekend."
"What does that mean?" she asked, her head jolting back in confusion. "That guy has no real responsibilities, Stevie."
Steve said nothing to counter her statement, but quirked his brows in a way that was hard to decipher. "Either way, he'll be here. So if you need anything, just ask him because I'll be too busy at work to leave."
Dove nodded softly, feeling like there was something unsaid, but was too hungover to focus on it. They sat in silence for a bit as Steve drank his coffee and she continued stirring her cereal mindlessly. She gazed down at the colorful puffs turning to mush in her bowl, feeling full all the sudden.
"How are things with you two?"
She instantly lifted her head feeling like she was caught, but realizing by his expression that the question was innocent. "Fine, I guess."
"Any issues at all? I mean, judging by the afternoon he helped you with your ankle, I'd think the two of you are well on your way to being friends, huh?" he asked with a smile.
Dove swiped her clammy hand over her thigh under the table. She really hadn't done anything wrong. They didn't even actually kiss the night before, but she couldn't help feeling like she was guilty of something. "Yeah I mean, he hasn't done anything majorly douche-y since he's been here," she laughed, using humor to hide her worries.
Part of her wanted to confide in her older brother and get some advice, but what would she even say?
'Hey I was wasted last night and I tried to kiss your best friend and now I think I'm into him'? He would flip.
The sound of the upstairs shower being shut off made Steve hop up from his seat to take his turn, cutting Dove short before she could say anything dumb. Probably for the best. "I'm gonna go get ready for work," he said as he set his mug on the counter, "but I'll see you later tonight okay? Take a nap, drink some water, feel better."
Dove nodded, turning back to her bowl of cereal and staring blankly at it, letting her mind drift.
She felt so dumb for her actions the night before. Maybe she owed Bucky an apology for being so forward? She couldn't be sure if the signals he was sending her were real or just the product of her intoxication. Feeling overwhelmed, she stood from her seat with her bowl. Dropping it into the sink, then heading upstairs.
She settled onto her window seat, curling in on herself as she started to write. Sure enough, her thoughts about Bucky were turned into words. As if her brain was feeding signals directly into her hand, willing it to move in a way that filled the page with her feelings about the guy.
A soft knock at the door interrupted her therapeutic scribbling. She knew exactly who it was without having to think twice about it, since they were the only two at the house then.
Dove bit her lip, hoping if she just stayed silent he would go away, but she had never been a very lucky person, so she was hardly surprised when there was yet another knock. "Dove?" Bucky's voice came through the door. When he was met with silence he tried again, "I know you're in there. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."
She sighed, running her hands through her hair. "I'm fine."
He hesitated, unsure of what to say, but felt too dissatisfied with her response to leave her be. "Can I come in?" he pressed.
Dove contemplated for a second, then set her journal down and combed down her mussed hair with her fingertips. Why was she doing that? Bucky had seen her in all of her most embarrassing forms before and she never gave it a second thought. "Come in," she finally called over.
Bucky hesitantly pushed her door open, taking in her bedroom as it was revealed to him. He hadn't seen the inside of it in years and it had changed quite a bit since they were young. Her walls were still that same plum color, but were covered in posters of musicians rather than the wholesome pictures of animals that were once there.
Her dresser was no longer covered in toys, but stacks of books and a record player. A crate of albums sitting just beside it, filled with a pretty impressive collection from what he could see. A few were strewn about the floor, over her shag rug. Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath, Janis Joplin.
She had a queen sized bed, covered in a messily crumpled floral print quilt, where her small twin bed used to be, extending out from the side wall. Then there she sat, in the cushioned window seat that was built into her room, filled with pillows and blankets— the same as when she was young.
"Uh hi," Bucky said, standing awkwardly in her doorway.
"What's going on?" Dove asked, despite knowing exactly why he was there.
"Can I sit?"
She nodded, scooting up in her seat to make room for him. He walked across her carpeted floor, now showered and dressed for the day. He smelt like soap, freshly applied cologne, and toothpaste. His hair was slightly wet still, slicked back on his head as a few stray strands fell over his forehead in naturally perfect curls.
Bucky sat down beside her on the cushioned seat, shifting to lean against the panel to face her. He wore a knowing look as he gazed at her waiting to break the silence. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I said, I'm fine."
"I mean, are you hungover? You were pretty drunk last night."
"A little," Dove admitted, feeling her heart race at the mention of the night before, "but I've felt worse."
Bucky nodded as a smile grew over his face and he looked down to his lap. "You uh, you remember last night at all?" His eyes slid up to meet hers. Something playful danced around in them, leaving her unsure of how to react. She couldn't tell yet if it was mocking or support.
"Yes I remember," she said, expressing nothing in her voice.
He chuckled, nodding again. "You remember trying to kiss me then?"
"Get the fuck out of my room, dude," she snapped, point to the door, "if you're here to make fun of me, just leave me alone. I was drunk and confused and it didn't mean anything—"
"Hey," Bucky said, frowning as he cut her off, "I'm not making fun of anything. I just wanted to clear the air and make sure you were okay. I don't want things to be awkward with us."
Dove instantly calmed down with his reassurance. Settling back into her spot as she sighed. "I-I'm sorry I did that. I just thought..."
"Yeah I know what you thought," he laughed.
She laughed with him in self-mockery. She liked when he read her mind, not that she was making it particularly hard to read the night before. "I'm still so embarrassed," she said, covering her face with her hands as she felt her cheeks heat up at the memory.
"I mean, you weren't wrong."
Dove's head popped back up, her smile falling from her face. "What?" she pushed out, mouth ajar.
"If I'm being honest, I did want to kiss you," he admitted, looking her straight in the eye, completely unashamed by his desire. He knew he at least owed her that much. To at least make her feel less alone.
As soon as she had stormed off to bed the night before, he collapsed against the counter, slamming his head against the cold tile, infuriated with himself. Why the hell did he reject her? He'd been pining after the girl since he had arrived. He'd spent almost every night tossing and turning, trying— and ultimately failing— to ignore his urges. "But like I said last night, Steve would've killed me if anything had happened," he added, as a reminder to himself, along with her.
Her brain was still caught on the first part of his statement, replaying it over and over again. 'I did want to kiss you'. She couldn't deny the feeling in her belly anymore. What she assumed was intense hatred, she realized was intense infatuation. Perhaps with a sprinkle of hatred still lingering somewhere in there.
"Oh," was all she could muster out as she stared back at him.
Bucky gave her that boyish grin he so often wore, tipping his head at her reaction. "I'm sorry if that's weird to say."
"I mean, I have no room to judge. I actually tried to kiss you," she teased, snapping back to her sparkling ways to lighten the mood.
"True," he agreed.
They sat there, processing the revelation for a moment, neither of them quite knowing where to go from there. Dove bit her lip, trying to hide the smile she felt sneaking up on her. Although Bucky was someone she had despised growing up, she was well aware that he was known as the town hottie for most of his life. The Casanova. The ladies man. She couldn't deny it felt sorta good that she had caught his eye.
Not that Dove was much different from him—although, she would never think of herself that way. She was also quite the looker, always having boys chasing after her. She was a little less interested in romantic endeavors than most girls, sure, but she never had any lack of attention being showered over her. Thing was, she rarely found any of the guys worthy of her attention.
Bucky's eyes locked in on the smile she was trying so hard to fight back, quietly chuckling to himself and looking down to his lap. Doing a double take at the journal he saw sitting just beside her. The pages were disheveled in the binding, some were folded over, with a few strays sticking out where they had been ripped out then tucked back in. "What were you writing about?"
"Doesn't matter," she said, in habit. Used to the way she was usually treated in her house— like a delusional dreamer that would never amount to anything.
"I don't believe that," he argued softly, reaching down to pick it up.
Dove snatched it away from his grasp before his fingertips could even graze the small book, shoving it behind her back, against the pillow that rested behind her.
Bucky froze with his hand still extended, realizing she wasn't just being bashful, she genuinely felt apologetic about her writing. He had never read any of her work, but he figured when someone was as passionate as she was about writing, they were sure to have some sort of talent in that prospect.
"You really don't want to show me?" he asked with a concerned brow, reaching over to rest his hand on her bare knee.
The touch seemed fairly innocent, but Dove couldn't stand it for another second. She shifted her leg so his hand fell off her, shaking her head. "No, most of it is just embarrassing rambling."
The anguish she set on herself for reacting that way must've come off as some kind of irritation to him, but she couldn't let him touch her like that. She had nearly melted at the second of contact, knowing if his hand stayed put for a moment longer she would've gone limp in his grasp, much like how she felt the night before.
Why had she reacted that way? Because she was afraid of what might've happened? Or was she afraid she would have to face rejection again? Or was is because she was scared he would actually act on it?
Part of her preferred the confusing ping pong game they had going. Knowing that if either of them acted, they would actually have to face what they were both feeling— and what they now knew the other was feeling.
"Come on, just read me something then," Bucky pressed casually.
"No."
He sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry I pushed," he said, raising his hands in surrender as he stood from his seat to leave.
Dove sulked, kicking herself for shutting him out. Making a note to keep her responses vague around him, simply to keep the game between them going.
Bucky reached her door, freezing when he realized he didn't want to be without her company either. Well aware of that fact that it might've been a mistake, before he could think, he asked her "care to join me in the backyard? I was going to relax in the sun for a while."
"Now?" she asked.
He gave her a sharp nod.
"Yeah, I'll meet you out there ," Dove replied, sounding a bit more eager than she wanted to.
Finding her way outside, she felt the bite of heat instantly, but it was admittedly nice out. Birds were serenading her as she walked barefoot as always across the warm grass. And just as promised, she was pleased to find that Bucky had taken up a spot at the table. He was sitting under the wide birth of shade provided by the trees resting overhead.
She felt her brows curve and her lips part in awe when she saw that he had made up a pitcher of ice water and set a couple of glasses out for them in the center of the table. Probably figuring she needed to hydrate— which she desperately did.
What confused her though was the lack of a newspaper, instead replaced by a piece of paper so large it could be considered a poster board. He had various protractors and rulers resting around him, along with a pencil sharpened to a daggers point.
When Dove moved closer, she realized the paper was covered in the beginnings of some kind of sketch. Perfectly straight lines formed what looked like a blue print for a house. "What is that?" she asked, holding her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the bright sun, only amplified by her hangover.
"Just a project," Bucky replied simply, eyes set on the paper while he measured out another line.
Dove sat in the chair across from him, dropping down her book, journal, and a couple of pens unceremoniously to the surface of the table, then tucking her legs to her chest. She watched him work as she filled a glass for herself and topped his off, noticing how a small wrinkle formed between his brows as he concentrated and the dimple in his chin seemed to deepen. "I didn't know you were into architecture."
"You never asked," he countered.
She scoffed, being reminded of his impertinent side, but somehow finding it endearing for the moment. "Is that what you're studying at school?"
"Yep."
"Is that what you want to do for work? Be an architect?"
"Yeah, uh, it sorta runs in the family," he said cooly, vaguely referencing that his ancestors basically built the town.
Dove sighed, getting frustrated by his aloof responses. Why had he even asked her to join him if he didn't want to talk? Instead of snapping, she opened her book and started reading in the hopes that the action would calm her temper.
Bucky chewed on his lip while he drew, staring intently on the sheet before him, but his eyes were continuously being tugged at to peek at the girl sitting across from him. As if they were on strings and some devilish force was insisting on distracting him.
She looked gorgeous with the bright sun illuminating her. Angelic almost. Her hair was messily tied up with a stubborn lock falling in front of her face as she stared down at her book. She continuously blew it out of her line of vision with her rosy pink lips, rather than taking the time to pin it back.
The thin cotton pajama set she still had on barely covered her. The same delicate lace lined her spaghetti strap top and tiny shorts. She looked so raw as she sat there before him. So unapologetically herself. Not a speck of makeup was covering her features. There was no pretense. No facade.
Bucky allowed himself to briefly soak in the sight of her, wanting to commit it to memory. To be able to look back on it and remember how she looked in that exact moment. Beautiful.
He had wanted to reach across the table and touch her as soon as she had sat down. To touch her skin. To memorize just how silky smooth she was. After the fleeting contact he got night before, it was all he had been able to think of. It was why he was giving such short answers and barely looking her in the eye. He was overwhelmed to say the least. Not only that she had finally agreed to spend time with him, but by her proximity.
He didn't want to mess anything up, but he supposed he might've been by being so cold.
"So, you want to publish something huh?" Bucky asked, hoping to make up for the distance he created between them.
Dove's train of thought was cut short, being pulled right back to reality by the raspy voiced question being sent her way. "Yeah, that's the goal," she said, peeking up from the page to find Bucky still diligently working, "then I can save up to move away."
"Little Wing wants to leave the nest..." he muttered the pun mostly to himself, voice sounding distracted by his work, "why?" he asked, finally allowing himself to make eye contact with her.
"Why what?"
"Why move away?" he clarified.
She was confused by his question, frowning at him. "Doesn't everyone want leave their hometown?" Instantly answering her own question internally, reminding herself of how everyone that lived in Roseworth was born there and would probably die there. What she really meany by her question was 'don't you want to move away too?' Like always, he understood.
Bucky shrugged, grunting in his chest. "It's not so bad here."
"So you plan on living here forever?" she asked in disbelief.
"I don't know if I'd say forever," he shook his head, "but I'm not particularly unhappy here or anything."
"God, you sound like every one else in this fucking town," Dove spat, "people always just settle in life. Like why wouldn't you want to see what the world has to offer? There's so much to see and experience and you're not going to see anything good staying here your whole life."
Bucky glared at her with a clenched jaw from across the table, setting down his pencil. "Are you always this judgmental about people's choices or is it just with me?"
She took a drink of her water, rolling her eyes. "You're not special if that's what your asking. I think anyone that wants to stay here is dumb and you're no exception."
He thought for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. "Don't you get mad when your family judges you for wanting to move away?"
"Yeah," she said, her tone sounding more inquisitive than decisive.
"Then why judge others for staying?" Bucky asked with a self-assured air in his words. She shifted in her seat, realizing she had no real argument to counter with, so he continued. "Seems sorta hypocritical if you ask me, Dove."
"Well, I didn't ask for your opinion."
"I didn't ask for yours either," he said, picking back up on his sketch.
Dove lifted her book back in front of her face, scowling as she scanned for where she left off. Realizing that she had just lost that round of the game. "I hate you," she muttered under her breath.
"I know you do," he replied softly, surprising her. He had always said it right back to her. It had been a longstanding exchange between them since they were young to say they hated each other. But he didn't say it back. She felt her lips curl with a smile, thankful that her book was concealing her reaction when she realized that he willingly passed his victory off to her with four simple words. Letting her win the round.
The rest of their afternoon was fairly lackadaisical, simply lounging around the backyard while they worked side-by-side on their projects. When the heat became too much to bare, Dove stepped inside to talk on the phone with Wanda for what seemed like hours to Bucky. She was perched at the kitchen counter with the long cord dangling from the wall, while he was sitting through the doorway in the living room watching tv.
He couldn't even fathom how they could talk for so long without running out of topics. Names he didn't know were thrown around in gossip, being followed by hysterical cackling by Dove and which he assumed was being echoed by Wanda on the other side of the call.
The sound of her laughter made the corners of Bucky's mouth raise unabashedly. God she had a cute laugh. He peeked over from the couch, craning his neck to be surprised by a view of her ass. She was still in those tiny pajama shorts and with the way she was leaned over the counter, there wasn't much left to the imagination.
He licked his lips, then biting them as he let himself stare for a moment. Having to literally fight off a groan when she arched her back as she threw her head back laughing again. She was a babe and didn't even realize it, he thought to himself.
Bucky rolled his eyes, standing from his seat to walk to the kitchen. He purposefully brushed past Dove, letting his hand rest on her waist for only a second as he moved by her for the cabinet to find himself a glass.
The touch didn't go unnoticed by her. Halting her words mid-sentence as she stared at him filling a glass with some of the lemonade from the fridge, before being questioned by Wanda and continuing where she left off in her story.
Bucky was turned away from her, letting himself flash a smile, happy he got a reaction out of her. He had been worried the night before was simply a result of her drunkenness, but the little reactions he pulled from her made it clear it wasn't a one off feeling.
He walked past her again, gently gliding against her ass. Secretly thankful for the small amount of space allowed between the kitchen counters.
Heat grew in her cheeks at the feeling and she couldn't help the instinct to arch her back into him, wanting just a bit more contact, but by the time her brain signaled her to move, he was already gone.
"Hey uh, I gotta go Wands, but I'll be over tomorrow to help you pack okay?" She slammed the phone back onto the wall and skipped into the living room, plopping down beside Bucky on the couch.
Even though there was plenty of room to spread out, she was feeling bold and sat just a bit too close to him, so their thighs were barely touching. Despite the odd desire to be near him, she was also hoping to veg out in front of the tv for a bit and rid herself of the remnants of her lingering hangover.
Bucky swallowed hard at the feeling of her touching him, no matter how light. She was driving him mad. Everything she did further proved his point that he should be avoiding her. She was too dangerous to be around, but he just couldn't help himself. "Help pack?" he asked, furrowing his brows. Internally cursing himself for how tense his voice sounded.
Dove frowned, confused by his question, before realizing he must've heard her conversation. "Uh yeah, my friend Wanda is going to Europe. She leaves tomorrow."
"Sorry," he chuckled, "eavesdropping."
"Whatever, ya creep."
Bucky laughed, taking a sip of his lemonade as he side eyed her. His fingertips burned to reach out and tuck back that strand of hair that had been coming loose from behind her ear all afternoon, but instead tightened his grip on the glass. "How long will she be gone?"
"A month," Dove pouted, staring at the tv, "I'm so jealous she gets to actually go somewhere this summer. I wish my parents would've planned a vacation for us."
"Hey, at least your parents didn't leave for a vacation without you," he muttered, referencing his mom's absence for the summer.
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that." Dove turned her head to look up at him. "Where did your mom go?"
"She's in New York," he admitted, making Dove's eyes widen. "I have family over in Brooklyn, so she took my sister with her for the summer. She thought it would be good to get Rebecca out of town before she starts high school."
"Why didn't she take you?"
Bucky shrugged. "I didn't really want to be under my mom's watchful eyes all summer. I feel too old for that shit now."
"But you'd get to be in the city," she argued, shocked that he chose to stay in boring old Roseworth instead of New York.
"I spend the holidays there every year, so it's really nothing new to me," he breezed, "I'd rather have the freedom to do what I want with my time."
"And what is it you do with your time?"
His expression pinched at her quizzical mood. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know... I mean, you're usually gone all day, so I don't even know what you do. You got a secret girlfriend or something?" Dove inferred in a playful tone.
"What if I did?" he asked with narrowed eyes, looking over to her, trying to get a read on her question. Unsure if it was an innocent curiosity or a weighted one like he felt it was.
Dove blinked up at him, taken aback by the tone shift. She felt herself shrinking under his scrutinizing stare. Suddenly much less confident in her teasing question. "I-I don't know. You can do what you want."
"Yeah I know that, honey," Bucky said, lips curling slightly. "But would you mind if I did?" He knew all too well that he had an effect on her and that she wouldn't be happy if he were seeing someone, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wasn't seeing anyone. Not at all. But he loved the way she was squirming in her seat having to think about it.
Dove forced an uncomfortable laugh. Abruptly, that much more aware of how close their faces were with how they were sitting. "Why would I?"
"You know why," he scrunched his eyes as he spoke in his husky voice, somehow sounding even deeper than usual, "I know why."
She felt like the room was shrinking around her. Like the walls were slowly creeping closer and closer to her sides. Like if she were to continue breathing the way she was, she'd run out of oxygen and suffocate to death.
"I don't—" she shook her head, trying to pull herself from the dazed lust she felt clouding her reaction, snapping back to her arrogant facade she smirked, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Bucky's expression slowly slid into wicked grin, flashing his teeth. "I suppose it's just like that journal of yours. Something that doesn't matter." The subtext of his words being: I know you care a whole fucking lot about it, but you'd rather pretend it doesn't exist. Just like her conflicting feelings for him.
"Exactly," she confirmed, biting her smile, keeping her stare unwaveringly set on his blue eyes.
Continuing that game of ping pong she never wanted to end. Playing off of each others' words. Speaking in code the way they so often did together.
Bucky settled back in his seat, turning back to the tv as their words hung in the air. The room was slowly cooling off from the afternoon heat as the sun set, but he still felt a bit toasty. Whether it was from the rousing conversation or the weather, he couldn't be sure. He sipped on his lemonade, licking the sour sweet stick from his lips as his mind wandered everywhere, except to what was playing on the screen.
Every small movement Dove made, every soft sigh, every time she cleared her throat. All of it held his undivided attention.
The longer her sat with her, the more he realized that his infatuation with the girl was the result of how evenly matched they were. Both of them were incredibly well skilled in toying with the opposite sex. Both of them unyielding in their stubborn desire to tease the other. Both of them determined to break the others tenacity.
It was a battle of wills. With Bucky testing the razor thin edge of her restraint and Dove returning the exact same efforts, just as dangerously.
He wasn't sure they'd ever find a resolve, because to get to that point— one of them would eventually have to give in.
"Are you hungry?" Dove asked, breaking through his thoughts.
"Yeah, I actually am," he realized, like as soon as she reminded him food existed, he felt his stomach aching to eat. "We could go to the diner. My treat," he suggested trying to sound as casual as possible.
His words were said in a far too breezy and slapdash tone that made Dove smile. It was clear to the both of them that he was trying to force a friendly tone to make the offer seem innocent, when they both knew it wasn't.
Bucky caught the smile and responded with his own, almost in self-mockery, sensing that she saw through his ruse. She took the smile as a confession to what she assumed he was thinking, confirming her suspicions with a single flash of humor in his eyes.
"That sounds nice," she said, agreeing to his offer after the wordless exchange.
After they got dressed into more appropriate clothing and Dove added a bit of makeup to her face— hoping Bucky wouldn't notice— he drove them to the diner.
Just as she had started to fear on the drive over, it was pretty busy. Being that it was Saturday night at one of the few establishments around town, there were more than enough familiar faces locked in on the pair as they walked inside.
They were quickly seated in a booth over in the far corner of the neon lit room, which Dove was thankful for, knowing most stares weren't able to reach that far across the space.
She realized much too late that she should've suggested ordering a pizza. The whispering that filled the room had replaced the roar of conversation, confirming her worries. There was sure to be a tidal wave of gossip washing over the town following their outing. Not that there was anything going on between them except for the fact that they both needed to eat.
Bucky was their houseguest for the summer and most of the town knew that, so it couldn't have looked that weird that they were getting dinner together, could it?
"What are you gonna get, Little Wing?" Bucky asked, staring at the menu in his hands. Not even realizing what Dove was internally struggling with. His focus was solely on the meal he was about to eat.
She stopped her fretting, reaching over to grab a menu from behind the napkin dispenser, sandwiched between the ketchup and mustard bottles. She looked through the options, humming to herself. "Probably the grilled cheese," she said unenthusiastically, since it was her go-to.
"That's it? You don't want a burger or something?"
"I don't eat meat," Dove explained, shaking her head.
"Didn't know that," Bucky replied with raised brows, still staring at the menu, "how long has that been going on?"
"About two years now. My dad hates it. He says I'm gonna get sick without a healthy dose of red meat in my diet, but I think it's murder." She was waiting for Bucky to agree with her dad, but was pleasantly surprised when she was met with an understanding nod.
"Good for you. I mean if you can live like that, why not? I just love bacon too much. I could never give that up," he laughed.
Dove smirked, shaking her head. "I mean to be honest... sometimes I'll sneak the occasional piece of bacon like once or twice a year, but I try to keep the animal product to a minimum."
"Your secret is safe with me." He winked, setting the menu back into its spot and glancing around the room. "Jeez, it's busy tonight, what's a guy gotta do to get some service around here? I got a lady with me for god's sake," he muttered just loud enough for Dove to hear, making her giggle.
She scanned the room along with him, before locking eyes with Peter from across a few other booths. He beamed back at her and rushed over. "Hey Dove!"
"Look at you, working man," she gushed, gesturing to his uniform. "How's it been here?"
"It's been good. Everyone is really nice and no one gets too mad when I mess up," he laughed. "Have you been helped yet?"
"Not yet," she shook her head, "are you able to take our order?"
Peter nodded, finally looking over to who was seated across from her and doing a double take with widened eyes when he realized who it was. "Woah, Bucky? It's so good to see you, man. I don't know if you remember me or anything but—"
"Uh, Peter right?" Bucky asked, pointing a finger, coaxing an eager nod out of him. "Good to see you too, kid. How have you been?"
Peter was practically glowing. Not only over the fact that James Barnes, basically Roseworth royalty, remembered him, but that he actually cared enough to ask about his wellbeing. He peeked over to Dove in disbelief, before starting in on his excited rambling. "I-I've been good. I just graduated high school and I'm working here this summer, but I'm gonna be going to MIT in the fall so that's really exciting—"
Dove covered her eyes with a hand in embarrassment, quietly chuckling as he continued to sputter out information about himself.
Bucky simply sat listening, wearing a slightly perplexed smile. Not mocking him, but admittedly humored by the eager tone of Peter's voice. Although he was a little overwhelmed with how quickly he spoke, Bucky appreciated when people showed passion and Peter was oozing with it, perhaps a bit magnified with some nervousness because of who he was speaking to, but it was still nice to see.
"—but my aunt will come visit me whenever she can and I'll be back home for the holidays, so it won't be too bad," Peter surmised, taking a visible breath from talking for so long without a break.
"That all sounds great, Peter," Bucky said, smiling at him, "it's really good to see you again."
"It's really good to see you too."
"Um, can you take our order now, Peter?" Dove cut in, "or do you want to keep kissing Bucky's ass?"
"I was not—" Peter started to argue before she cut him off, reassuring him it was just a joke. After they ordered, he sped back off to the kitchen, leaving them sitting alone once more.
"Nice kid," Bucky observed as he watched him walk off, making a mental note to leave him a generous tip, then looking back at Dove, "are you guys close?"
"Yeah, he's one of my best friends." She nodded. "I adore him," she added lovingly, with a sigh.
Bucky tilted his head at the sentiment in her voice. "Do you...?"
"No. No, no, no. Peter is like a brother to me," she clarified, knowing he was going to ask if she was into him. "Like you said, just a nice kid. He's actually dating my friend Mj."
He nodded. He hadn't taken much notice in Dove's social life so all of that was news to him. Especially since he was a few years older and had been gone for the last three years, he wasn't really familiar with her friend group, except for her best friend Wanda of course. She and Dove had been connected at the hip since they met, so he knew her well enough.
"Sorry he was acting like that," Dove apologized, referencing the way Peter was behaving like a goddamn groupie the minute before, "he just thinks you're the coolest, I guess."
"You don't think I'm cool?" Bucky teased, smirking at her.
She scoffed. "You're... fine. I guess."
"High praise, Miss Rogers, high praise," Bucky said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he rested his elbows on the table while he mindlessly played with those damned rings he always wore on his fingers. "Guess I'm nothing compared to you."
"What does that mean?" she laughed.
Bucky shrugged. "I mean, I'm a little past my prime around here. I've been away at college and I think you've just about passed me up in social status... and I see the way the guys in here are lookin' at you." He looked around the room, catching a few staring at Dove even then.
She cocked her head. "How are they lookin' at me?" she asked, mimicking the way Bucky spoke.
"How I look at you," he said as he looked back to her, completely confident in his response. Unashamed in the implications that were sure to be conveyed by his words.
Dove bit her lip, looking at him through her lashes from across the table. She realized they were— and he must've recognized the signs long before she had— flirting.
Noticing the way her body language had shifted, remembering there were watchful eyes set on her, she moved back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. Ridding herself of the blush in her cheeks and the way her back was arching towards him to a much less interested position.
Bucky picked up on the motion, following her gaze out to the room of people. Instantly realizing what she already had from the moment they walked into the diner. They were being watched by people with inquisitive stares that lived to spread gossip.
Their food was brought over by Peter before a word could be uttered by either of them, giving them something to focus on besides each other, which they were both thankful for.
Bucky started shoving his burger into his mouth, without a speck of decorum considered. Clearly ravenous from the long wait. He held his burger in his hand like he was strangling it, making Dove have to fight back a laugh.
She ate her grilled cheese at a normal pace, trying to be as neat as she could, unexpectedly conscious of the way Bucky saw her. She picked at her side of fries and sipped on her soda between bites of food.
Neither of them said a word while they ate. As if the weight of their actions was incredibly apparent to them the longer they were together. With the common theme of their time alone, they weren't doing anything wrong, but their unspoken attraction to the other was making it feel like something downright scandalous.
They both felt what the other was, but nothing was said. As always. They inferred what words the other was toying with, but at the last moment held back.
Both of them were terrified to give in and end the game.
~
A/N: I hope these rambling inner monologues did y'all some good.
I'm gonna keep saying this (and you'll hate me for it), but please trust the process! I promise promise promise things get spicy soon.
It's just going to be a lot of slow unraveling until we get there. But hot damn this chapter is like some good ass foreplay before what I have coming on Friday