Marvel Imagines

Roadtrip Roles and Confessions (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

A/N: I have zero idea of what this is. And my hands are numb and tingly as I write this... I'm also falling asleep... Uhm. Enjoy this absolute dumpster fire of a story, I guess?? I dunno.

You've always enjoyed long car rides.

Ever since you were a young girl, sitting in one spot yet watching the different scenery roll by outside the window always amazed you.

But now, as you're crammed into the backseat of some old Volkswagen Beetle beside the same man who Natasha had constantly teased you over ever since she saw your eyes widen when you first met him, you can't say you're enjoying this ride - constantly fighting a rising blush down off of your cheeks.

See, apparently, for this particular undercover mission, stealth was of the utmost importance, hence the vintage vehicle.

However, regarding the seating arrangement...

Let's just say no one in the car had anymore room than anyone else.

Well, except maybe Steve, considering he is driving.

And Sam... well, when Bucky had asked him to move his seat up at least an hour ago, he'd done nothing of the sort.

So maybe it's just the two of you crammed shoulder to shoulder in the back seat who are limited in space.

That definitely seems the case.

"Any chance the traffic the GPS had warned us about awhile ago has cleared up?" You muse aloud over the soft music playing from the radio, leaning forward in your seat to peer at the small screen between the two people up front.

"Doesn't look like it," Sam sighs, glancing down towards the screen as well, motioning to the estimated arrival time. "We're just racking up the time."

"Great," You hear Bucky grumble lowly from beside you, shifting in his seat slightly before crossing his arms across his chest, forcing his eyes closed.

"We've got to stop for gas at the next exit," The blond behind the wheel explains, making a lane change. "We'll just take our time and hopefully by the time we're ready to go again, traffic will have been taken care of."

"Hopefully," You murmur, settling back into your own seat once more, trying to get comfortable.

Sneaking a glance at the person beside you, a surge of butterflies erupt within you, your cheeks reddening.

Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

****

You had been the first one back to where the Beetle had been parked, silently slipping into the backseat and beginning to rearrange some of the items that had been rummaged through in the trunk, now a mess.

As you do so, you become so caught up in your task, fighting with various stubborn pieces of luggage, that you don't even notice the familiar figure approaching the opposite side of the vehicle.