Another Cliché Love Story // S. Rogers & B. Barnes

thirteen

Bucky

Bucky stood in front of his closet, staring at his blander-than-bland clothes lined up in front of him. His eyes darted from a plain white shirt, to a plainer blue shirt, to a boring green shirt, and finally to a basic purple shirt.

He sighed, walking out of his closet and flopping onto the bed.

Bucky picked up his phone, opening the group chat and scanning over the recent texts.

It was Friday, and Tasha had the great idea to go to a club that had just opened. The boys enthusiastically agreed, and Bucky felt like he had been dragged along.

In reality, he wanted to curl up in bed with a sad movie and feel sorry for himself. After all, he still hadn't told Steve the reality of what was going on with Sharon, and he hated himself for it.

But he knew he would hate himself more if Steve ended up hating him.

He felt so selfish for thinking this way, but he couldn't help it. Besides, Tony had already tried to tell Steve that Sharon was cheating on him, and look how that turned out. If he wouldn't listen to Tony, why would he listen to Bucky?

Buck sighed again and rolled over, sending an SOS text to his roommate. Within a couple seconds, Tasha was banging on his door.

"What's wrong? Did you die?" She called, half-worried, from the other side of the door. Bucky rolled his eyes and got up from the bed, pocketing his phone in his blue jeans and opening the door for her.

Tasha gave him a once-over and, deciding that he wasn't in physical harm, stepped past him and sat on his bed.

"You need fashion help, don't you?" Bucky's shoulders sagged in relief, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

"You know me so well," he mused, sitting on the bed next to her. Tasha, having already pulled out her own phone, opened Pinterest. Bucky's eyebrows rose when he saw a board titled 'Bucky Fashion'.

"Seriously?"

"Hush and pay attention." They scrolled through for a while, bouncing ideas off of each other and the various outfits pinned to the board, until Tasha landed on one in particular that made Bucky grin. She glanced up at him, and then back down to the photo, and a sly smirk pulled at her lips.

"You think you can pull this off?" Bucky nodded, took one last look at the photo, and whipped off his shirt. Tasha closed her eyes, holding a hand up and yelping. "Hey, warn a girl before you do that!"

"Sorry, Tasha. I got excited," he smiled sheepishly, tossing the shirt on the floor and stepping back up to his clothes. He pulled a gray tee and a red-and-black flannel off of their hangers, before stooping down and grabbing his black ripped jeans. Bucky slipped into his new outfit and grinned at his reflection, flexing in the mirror and becoming pleased with how he looked.

Tasha, once realizing he wasn't changing anymore, opened her eyes and stood up, joining him in front of the mirror. She nodded her approval, tugging at the flannel tied around his waist.

"You look hot," she declared, making Bucky's grin grow. He turned around, admiring himself from all angles, and finally crossed his arms over his chest. The thin material of the cotton tee strained against his muscles, and Bucky smirked.

He did look hot.

"Here, put these on," Tasha's voice sounded from near his desk, and he turned to see her holding up a few silver chains and a leather bracelet for his wrist. He took them and did as she said, enhancing his look even more.