Chapter Text
“It’s oats in hot liquid!” Bob insisted. “If that doesn’t make it soup, what does?”
“Oatmeal is breakfast!” Alexei slammed his palm on the table for emphasis. “Breakfast is not soup!”
Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, already exhausted. “You two are ridiculous.”
Before the debate could escalate further, John came striding into the room, posture stiff and voice grave. “Gentlemen,” he said, and the tone was so sharp, so uncharacteristically serious, that all three men fell silent and looked at him like he was about to announce the apocalypse.
John squared his shoulders. “I have very serious news.”
The silence stretched. Even Alexei’s jaw tightened, waiting.
John let it hang another beat, then declared solemnly, “It’s sundress season.”
Bob barked out a laugh. Bucky rolled his eyes so hard it’s surprising that they didn't get stuck. Alexei leaned forward in disbelief. “Already? Has this been confirmed?”
John’s lips twitched, but he kept the straight face of a soldier on a mission. “I have confirmed it with my own eyes, comrade. Be strong.”
“Oh my god,” Bucky muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Learn how to handle yourselves.”
“Okay bud, show us how it’s done.” John laughs, “Here she comes.”
And that’s when you walked in.
The shift in the room was instant. You felt their gazes flick toward you, but Bucky’s stare was the one that you noticed most. It was sharp at first, reflexive, but then it faltered, softened, like someone just pulled the rug out from under him.
It was just one of your favorite dresses, comfortable light cotton that swayed around your thighs as you moved, but on you? To him? It might as well have been lethal. Your hair was pulled back, exposing the vulnerable slope of your neck, and the sunlight from the window hit your legs, long, bare, seemingly endless. A deadly trap, comprised of soft skin and short hemlines.
He couldn’t drag his eyes away, no matter how hard he told himself to stop.
It would be dishonest to say that you weren’t hoping for that reaction from him. You had your eyes on Bucky Barnes from the moment you stepped foot in the tower, but despite your best efforts he remained… distant, at best. You, however, were never one to back down from a challenge.
“Wow,” Bob said, unashamedly cheerful. “I love your dress. Looks great on you.”
Heat flooded your cheeks. You waved him off. “Oh god, stop. You’ll make me blush.”
You forced a little laugh as you moved to the coffee pot. “Morning, guys.”
A chorus of good mornings greeted you, from Bob, Alexei, even John who was still trying to smother his grin. But not Bucky. He was silent, still looking at you like you were an apparition that was going to vanish if he blinked too long.
You poured yourself a mug, savoring the warmth between your hands, but as you turned back, you noticed Bucky’s place at the table. No coffee.
“Bucky,” you said lightly, tilting the pot. “Do you want some?”
His throat worked visibly before he managed a strained, “Yeah.”
You tried not to smirk as you poured for him, setting the mug down within reach. “Here you go.”
There was a pause, like he had to reboot before his voice came out. “...Thanks.”
You nodded, sipping your own. “Well, I’ll catch up with you guys later. I’ve got reports to run, so I’ll be at the computer most of the day.”
With that, you slipped out, coffee in hand, tossing a final smile over your shoulder. You didn’t see Bucky’s expression when you left, but you could feel the weight of his gaze following you all the same.
The kitchen felt lighter without you there, though Bucky didn’t exactly look relieved. Alexei and Bob pushed back their chairs and wandered out, resuming their bickering about oatmeal. John lingered, stepping close enough to clap Bucky’s shoulder with deliberate force.
“Looking strong, Bucky,” he said with a knowing grin before walking towards the fridge.
And then it was just him, elbows on the table, staring at coffee he can’t bring himself to drink.
Sundress season. He thought it was a funny joke between the guys, but as it turns out, it was a battlefield. He, and his restraint, were dangerously unprepared for the fight.
The image of you, bare shoulders, sunlight on your skin, burned behind his eyelids. He dragged a hand down his face, groaning low. This was going to be a very, very long day.