the team doctor || bucky barnes (EDITING IN PROGRESS)

11.

Edited 8/27/25
ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟꜱ - ᴄʜᴀꜱᴇ ᴀᴛʟᴀɴᴛɪᴄ

"𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲."

~

VALERIE HATED PARTIES.

Crowds always set her nerves on edge, her social anxiety spiking the moment she was swallowed by too many voices, too many eyes. Still, the guest list promised money and influence, and valuable contacts for her research were reason enough to endure it.

The last few nights, she had hooked Bucky up in silence—only one nightmare breaking through. He barely spoke, choosing instead to watch her with an intensity that made her chest tighten. She logged the data, drafted her report, and sent it to Nick Fury.

Words between them remained scarce.

By Saturday morning—the day of the event—her hours had been spent treating Natasha's migraine and listening to Sam talk circles around his possible date. On her way to the common area for coffee, she froze.

Her name. Spoken.

She knew several of the IT staff kept easy friendships with the team, and she'd met them here and there. One in particular—Cody—had repaired her lab computer more than once.

She lingered in the hall, listening.

"Do any of you gents have a date for tonight?" She heard Steve.

"I was actually planning on talking to Valerie tonight," Cody's voice carried. "Always been interested in her."

"Sure," came the rasp she knew too well, dripping with mockery, "if you find cardigans sexy."

Her stomach plummeted. The sound of Bucky's voice hit harder than the words themselves. She almost stepped into the room, almost demanded an explanation—but humiliation rooted her in place. Instead, she slipped back, moving quickly down the hall before anyone could see her.

By the time the elevator doors closed, her skin was burning hot. His words looped in her head, each repetition sharper, crueler.

In her room, she yanked hangers from their racks, tearing through her closet with shaking hands. Cardigan after cardigan, proof of his jab, piled around her in mocking silence.

Finally, at the very back, her hand stilled. A grin tugged at her lips as she pulled the fabric free.

<>

An hour later, Valerie was ready.

She smoothed on one last coat of lipstick, then stepped out of her apartment. Running a few minutes behind, she shot Wanda a quick message promising to meet her downstairs. The elevator carried her to the recreational floor, its doors parting to reveal a tide of well-dressed guests flowing into the glittering room.

It didn't take long to spot Wanda's strawberry-red hair in the crowd. A waiter offered a glass of wine as Valerie passed, and she accepted with a polite nod, slipping seamlessly into conversation with Wanda and Vision, the rim of her glass brushing her lips between words.

Across the room, Bucky nearly choked on his drink.

His eyes raked over her unapologetically. The short black dress clung to her like a secret, the corset bodice sculpting her chest, the soft curls of her hair spilling elegantly over narrow shoulders. But it was her lips—the deep, deliberate red painted with precision—that knocked the air from his lungs. Every word he had been saying to Steve vanished like smoke.