Krasivaya

Part 3

You had spent two days in your room refusing to speak to anybody but Nat. You poured out all your insecurities, all your pain to the redhead. Her eyes grew colder with each word you spoke. She brought much needed comfort to your fragile heart, soothing some of the pain in your chest.

It was time to venture back into the world of the Avengers. You were starved for company. And cupcakes.

Donning black workout gear which hugged your curves in all the right places, you leave your room, following the angry yelling coming from the kitchen. Sighing inwardly, you can distinctly hear the irate voice of Natasha hurling insults at whom you assume can only be Bucky. Judging from the slew of Russian leaving her mouth, and the angry tirade coming back, he's giving as good as he got.

You cautiously make your way into the kitchen. Nat and Bucky are screaming at each other from across the table, chests heaving in anger. The only word you can make out over the raised voices is your name. Nat had obviously had enough of your moping, and had taken it upon herself to defend you

"Natalia! Dostatchno!" you yell. Enough!

Bucky's eyes never leave hers. He's breathing heavily, fists clenched at is side. Natalia's lips are curled into a feral snarl, and you know if you don't intervene the punches will start flying.

You move toward Bucky as fast as you can, wedging yourself between him and the table. Grabbing his hand draws his attention. "Dostatchno, James," you whisper, forcing him to look at you.

He hisses at you, fucking growls, pushing you into the table by the hips.

A small gasp leaves you as your back hits the cold surface. A spike of desire shoots through you, making you whimper.

Bucky's grip on your hips tighten, his eyes growing momentarily dark as he growls again, hair falling in his face as moves closer to you.

There's a flurry of movement, scraping chairs, yelling as the team scrambles to get you away from him.

Bucky's metal hand slips under the tank top you are wearing, sending delightful goosebumps dancing across your skin.

"James," you say in a voice that sounds awfully close to a moan.

He bites his bottom lip, small groans leaving him as he moves closer to you.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, he's so close. You can smell the lingering scent of his body wash, feel the corded muscles in his abdomen, but he's yanked away from you by Thor.

You're pulled bodily across the kitchen table by Steve who shoves you behind him, taking a defensive stance in front of you.

Disappointment rages through you. Did that just happen? Did Bucky nearly kiss you? What in the actual fuck is happening?

Confused, aroused, and angry, you stomp out of the kitchen, not bothering to get an explanation, uncertain if you want one. Moving toward the gym, doubt niggles at you. You most certainly imagined the entire thing.

He was angry, and an angry Bucky Barnes is an unpredictable Bucky Barnes.

Yanking at your ponytail in frustration, you eye one of the punching bags. Wrapping your hands in tape, you unleash hell on the bag in front of you. Grunts leaving you in infrequent intervals.

Stupid! you think. He's with that snivelling woman. Wouldn't look twice at someone like you. You were an awkward lump. A socially inept filler girl for when Bucky couldn't get someone to warm his bed, or when he was feeling vulnerable, or when the nightmares reared their ugly heads. You were nothing but a pit stop. A stepping stone for something better.

You're so engrossed in battling the bag, you don't hear Steve come up behind you.

"Easy, slugger," he murmurs as he grabs your arms. "What did the bag do to ya?" he jokes trying to lighten the tension in the air.

You let out a reluctant laugh, wiping the sweat out of your eyes. You smile at the Super Soldier as he regards you closely.

"You doin' ok, doll? That was pretty intense."

You sigh. "I'm fine.. It was just.. Having him so close? Looking at me like that? I..." you can't seem to find the words to describe how you're feeling, a deep sadness settling on you.

Steve smiles sympathetically, before lighting up like the fourth of July. "I got an idea, doll face." He grins wickedly.

"No!" you nearly scream. "I want no part of your half-cocked schemes, Rogers!" Backing away slowly from the blond, he pulls you to his chest.

Strong arms engulfing you in a comforting embrace. "We're gonna show Buck what he's missin', darlin'."

Horror. That's the best way you can describe the emotion currently coursing through you. "Stevie.." you plead.

You can feel his chest rumble with suppressed laughter. "Don' fight me on this, doll," he gently replies.

Sighing you peek at him through your eyelashes. "Alright, Captain. What do you have in mind?"

His smile is blinding, blue eyes dancing with affection.

"(Y/N)? Will ya be my pretend best girl?"