Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

This Isn't a Good Idea (Barnes x reader)

Based on this:

You could hear Bucky settling in to the room through the thin walls as you changed into your pajamas, stretching your tired and aching body in a wasted attempt to rid yourself of the harsh mission of the day. A few scattered bruises colored your skin, coupled with several good scrapes that still stung with the slightest touch or shift in the breeze as you moved, and you wanted nothing more than a good night of sleep.

You decided that you were still wound tightly and that a quick drink might quell your nerves, and if you were lucky, your mission partner might just join you. Bucky had been nothing but focused and distant since you had left the Avengers compound, and it was beginning to wear on you to not have someone to talk to in a civilized manner outside of just business. When you entered the living room, he was sitting quietly, staring at a chess board as if deep in thought.

"Buck, care to join me in a drink?"

"No."

"Hmm, don't stop to think about it," you smirked, flipping over two glasses, pouring the alcohol slowly into each. "What's going through that brilliant mind of yours? Certainly it can't be chess." You took the glasses in hand and crossed the room, setting them onto the table in front of him, though he merely glanced your way and back to the board.

"I said no."

"Well, I didn't." You lifted your drink and took it down in a single swallow, followed by the next. "I'll finish this bottle, if I must. It would be good of you to help me."

"You know, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow," Bucky sighed, finally leaning back in the chair and looking at you sternly. "I don't want to have to work with a hung over partner." When his eyes met yours, you gave him a brief smile that he couldn't help but return, "don't try to distract me, (Y/N). We need to keep our focus, you know that."

You took another drink down and were about to pour another when his hand shot forward, pulling the bottle from your grip. He set it down with a firm slam against the table and a look of challenge as if he wanted to see you try to take it from him. "Rude, Barnes. You're not my father, so please stop acting like it. I sure don't think of you that way."

"How do you think of me?"

With a coy smile, you stood and stepped towards him, leaning down to rest a hand on either side of his chair. "I think..." you paused, pushing yourself up and walking away, "I think I need a little music."

"(Y/N), it's really late. We should get to bed."

"Jeez, Buck, let me set the mood first."

You disappeared from his view, and he risked the belief that you had gone to your room and let it pass, but then the music started. "(Y/N), I can't concentrate with that noise. Please turn it off." When it didn't stop, he pushed himself up angrily and crossed the room towards you. "I'm going to bed."

With a quick step you moved in front of him to block his path and he stopped, looking down at you as you reached out and grabbed his hands. "Come on, Buck, lighten up. Is it because you can't dance, or you don't want to?"

"Let's call it both."

Despite his objection, you began to sway back and forth, and he reluctantly followed along with the smallest steps, his body barely moving. The hint of a smile crossed his lips, but it was quickly dashed when your hand laid a slap across his face, and he caught it in his own.

"Sorry, sorry," you whispered. "I don't know what that was. Won't happen again."

"You liked that," he replied, his spine straightening and his eyes darkening as he continued to watch you move. "Didn't you? Answer me, (Y/N). I can see that you did."

"Still no drink?" you smiled, reaching to the table behind you and grabbing the nearest bottle, bringing it to your lips as he watched. You could see that the mood was shifting and he was fighting within himself to maintain control. "Well, well, I do think that you liked it too, Mr. Barnes."

"Don't make me take you over my knee."

"So, you don't want to dance. But you do want to wrestle?" you smiled, bursting forward and throwing your arms around his waist, pushing against him until he toppled backwards and onto the floor as the music continued all around you. "Is this what you're into, Buck? Because you're right, I did like it."

He flipped from beneath you and pressed his hands into your shoulders, wrapping his legs around yours to hold you in place. "You're impossible, you know that?" he panted. "I can't read you from one minute to the next. I can't tell if you hate me, or if you...if..."

"If what? Spit it out," you challenged.

"If you want me as much as I want you."

You held your positions for what felt like forever, staring at each other with a hint of disbelief and a lingering question as to how you would reply. He had taken the upper hand and was waiting for you to make the next move. You thrust your hips up to tip him off balance, taking the opportunity to roll him onto his back and pin him just as he had done to you.

"Guess there's only one way to find out," you replied, leaning in closer, staring into his eyes for any sign to stop. When he didn't give you one, your lips were just barely grazing over his when you felt an overwhelming fatigue, and it all went dark. You had clearly underestimated the effect the alcohol would have over your battle-weary body.

Bucky laughed quietly and lifted you off of him, standing with you now draped over his arms to carry you to bed. He gently pulled back the blankets and laid you down, brushing the loose hairs from your face and covering you up. He sat on the edge of the bed next to you, watching the gentle breaths and slight fluttering of your eyes as sleep took over, smiling to himself at how the evening had played out. With a soft press of his lips onto yours, he whispered his goodnights and made his way to the door, memorizing the scene before him before finally turning out the lights.