Avengers Imagines/Preferences

How You Met

Steve
You were wandering around in NYC, searching for a good place to get lunch. You had recently moved to New York because your job had demanded you relocate. It was a bit of a hassle at first, but you'd found a good apartment and the commute to your job was fast. So far, you'd had no complaints...until now.

Glancing down at your phone, which was open to google maps, you sighed. None of the nearby restaurants interested you. You looked up again and laughed slightly. The massive billboard in front of you read: LOOKING FOR SOMETHING?

"Something funny?" A voice questioned from beside you, startling you.

"Just the sign," you replied, before realizing maybe it wasn't a good idea to talk to strangers.

"Why's that?" You finally turned to get a good look at the speaker, taking in his blond hair and blue, blue eyes. And god, those muscles.

"Uh, I am. Looking for something. Like the sign says," you stammered, taken off guard by his good looks. He looked somehow familiar, too.

"Really? What are you looking for?" He cocked his head slightly to the side. "A partner, perhaps?"

You chuckled at that. "Well, yes, but that's not what I meant. I'm looking for a good restaurant."

He smiled. "Have you ever heard of shawarma?"

You shook your head.

"Well, it's excellent. There's a place for it close by. Would you like to go?"

You looked at him again, his good looks and clearly strong body.

Okay, you thought. Why not?

"Okay," you said out loud. "Why not?"

He smiled widely and put out a hand. "Steve. Steve Rogers."

"Okay." You took the offered hand lightly, holding it for a beat longer than necessary. The name sounded familiar, too. "I'm Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you. So, shawarma?" He took a step down the sidewalk, glancing back at you.

"Sure." You followed, and he smiled.

"Are you new to NYC?" he asked.

"Yes, actually. Are you new here, too?" You were having a bit of difficulty keeping up with his long strides.

A slightly secretive smile appeared on his face. "You could say that."

Bucky
You stood in the Smithsonian exhibit featuring Steve Rodgers, looking at the corner for James Barnes.

"I think he's a hero," you said thoughtfully to your friend.

"Even now?" Y/F/N raised her eyebrows at you. "He's killed a lot of people, Y/N."

"He's brainwashed," you defended. Neither of you noticed the man in the background paying attention to your conversation, the man in a baseball cap who bore a striking resemblance to the picture of the man you were both looking at. "He didn't know what he was doing."

"Whatever. Hero or not, he's hella hot." Y/F/N giggled and moved to look at the uniforms, but you remained, the picture of James the sole focus of your eyes.

"He was a hero," you murmured to yourself, before turning to follow your friend.

"Um, hi." The man who had been watching you suddenly appeared beside you. "I couldn't help but overhear-do you really believe that I-that he's a hero?" He indicated the segment in front of you.

"Well, yeah," you replied, startled. "He saved so many people-he even almost gave his life up for his best friend. How can a person like that be evil? The HYDRA part of him isn't him, really. It's a monster wearing his face. Bucky Barnes was a hero."