Bucky Barnes One Shots

Offbeat

"This is the most boring party I've ever been to." You sighed, taking the last flute of champagne off a waiter's tray. You gulped down half of it and observed the guests, they seemed to have a good time.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. "But at least you can get drunk." He finished his fifth glass of whiskey, cursing his fast metabolism.

"I don't know shit about politics, and I've heard their stories a thousand times. Why are we still here?"

Bucky leaned closer to you, nodding his head toward the dance floor. You cocked a suspicious eyebrow, eyeing him from the corner of your eye.

"We're here to watch America's favorite senior citizen break some poor girl's toe."

He had a proud smirk on his lips when you almost choked on your champagne. You collected yourself and hit his chest with the back of your hand. Steve was dancing around the room with his partner. To put it simply, Bambi walking on ice was more gracious than him. His eyes were cast down, but his feet slipped on the spotless floor, sending him skidding into a wall. The girl cringed and tried to keep a smile on her face as Steve awkwardly swayed his stiff body. Bucky snickered next to you and you thrust your elbow hard into his ribs to shut him up.

"At least he's trying." You scolded. "You know, I heard a lot about your dancing skills, but I have never seen you dance. I'm starting to think that you lied to me, Sarge."

"Doll," He warned playfully, shaking his head. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"I'm not starting anything, just wondering at loud." You grinned. You knew he had to prove you wrong.

Bucky could read you well too and he knew you were teasing him. This little game started months ago. Sideways glances, winks and lip biting increased the sexual tension. Natasha urged you to do something about it before she'd punch the two of you.

Bucky leaned so that his mouth was grazing the shell of your ear. A cold shiver ran down your back.

"Tell me," You could feel him smirk as he whispered into your ear. "How flexible are you?"

"W-Why are you asking?" You cleared your throat.

"I think we both know what's gonna happen now." You cocked an eyebrow and scanned him up and down. "Dancing." He replied with a wide grin.

"Right," You blew out a shaky breath and looked straight ahead.

Bucky took the glass of champagne from your hand and left it on a tray. You snapped your head around to look at him. He was biting his bottom lip, his eyes fixed on you. He took your hand and led you to the dance floor where the band was playing a soft, slow song.

"No, no, no Bucky!" You tried to free yourself from his grip. "I can't dance and I already had three glasses of champagne." You said through gritted teeth.

He stopped, raised his arm and made you twirl; the skirt of your dress followed your movement like a flower opening up to greet the morning sun. Before you could process what just happened, he caught you around your waist and pulled you close. Your lips parted with a surprised gasp as he swayed slowly from side to side.

"All you have to do is follow my lead." He whispered, swiping a strand of hair behind your ear. You danced for a minute, a slow step that matched the rhythm of the song. "Good, let's spice it up a bit." He said with a mischievous grin that meant nothing but trouble.

He made you twirl again, this time much faster. He shuffled his feet and forced you to match his rhythm. The music was slow, peaceful and romantic, but his rhythm was fast, bouncy and lively. He wasn't slow dancing anymore. He shook his legs, jumping a little as he did and you knew what was about to happen. Lindy Hop!

The wild, energetic dance was especially popular during the war. You were not ready, everything in your body screamed Fuck no! but it was your fault: you taunted Bucky. You should have known that dancing was his religion.

"Bucky!" You gasped, struggling with the sudden frantic tempo. A quick glance around the room confirmed that everyone was staring at the both of you. "Everyone is looking at us! We're supposed to slow dance!"

"Ain't gonna dance that shit, doll. So fuckin' borin'."

Oh, no! You woke up the 1930s Brooklyn heartthrob inside him. Now is not the time to go weak, you sent a message to your knees.

"Attagirl!" He grinned when you finally made a proper triple step and rock step, easily following his movements. "Now Jitterbug? That's the butterfly's boots! C'mon, show me what ya got!"

The group of dancers backed off from the dance floor, leaving only the two of you. They were too afraid that you would bump into them. Bucky was really into it, and you soon loosened up too. Your laugh filled the room. He looked so genuinely cheerful, swivelling his hips and shaking his legs.

The band had stopped playing their slow, gloomy song. A buoyant, fast music was now filling the ball room. You were the only couple on the dance floor. People made a circle around you, clapping and wolf-whistling when Bucky's hands caressed your hips.

Everything was going incredibly fast and from your point of view their faces merged into a blurry, cheerful monster. There were a lot of twirls and barrel spins, and you were really glad that Bucky was such a great dancer; otherwise you would have fallen to the floor, breathless and exhausted.

Jitterbugging was not easy, but you finally fell into a nice rhythm until Bucky wrapped you up in his arms and whispered into your ear.

"Trust me?" You looked up at him, his bright, dreamy smile left you speechless and you only nodded.

He beamed, spinning you at arm's length before he tugged you back into his arms. He reached around your waist and effortlessly lifted you off the ground. People gasped loudly as Bucky made you do all sorts of acrobatic figures. You were like a rag doll in his hands.

When the song ended, it felt like you had been dancing for hours. Your chest heaved rapidly with heavy panting, arms wrapped around Bucky's neck. Both his arms were around your waist as he dipped you low to the ground.

People were cheering, but you couldn't hear them. Blood pumped hard through your veins, your breath was coming in short, hard puffs. Your perfect hairstyle was now an unspeakable mess.Adrenaline and alcohol ran through your veins. Bucky's face broke into the happiest smile you had ever seen. Your heart was beating so fast, jerking around in your chest, trying to break free. He had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. When he leaned down to kiss you, fireworks joined the party in your stomach.

His lips were soft, perfect and oh so delicious. His hand pressed against the back of your head, his mouth firmly on yours. He made a sound somewhere between a moan and a groan, his velvet tongue slid in to taste your mouth. He really put his heart and soul into the kiss, not caring that everyone was watching.

He pulled away, a giddy, serene smile plastered on his lips as he straightened your up, arms still around your waist. The crowd, the cheers, everything was much clearer now. You bashfully bit your bottom lip and buried your face in Bucky's brawny chest. He chuckled and cradled the back of your head, kissing your hair.

"You're pretty cheerful for someone who just made out in front of a bunch of strangers." You mumbled against his chest.

"Got to first base with the ginchiest dame in this room... you bet I'm cheerful."

You looked up at him and frowned, wondering if ginchiest was a compliment, but from the way his eyes sparkled and his grin widened you had a feeling it was a pretty good thing. "You're gonna have to teach me some of that 1930s slang."

"Sure thin'! I know a great way to learn things, it'll help that you're flexible." He wiggled his brows.

You pulled away from his chest and gave it a playful slap. "You're not smooth, Buck."

"Nope, but I'm a great dancer," He leaned to kiss your cheek and whispered in your ear. "And an even better lover."