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

sixteen

Bucky

Bucky sat rigid in the passenger seat of Steve's car, his stormy eyes occasionally darting over to Steve. Bucky could barely breathe; he was so nervous and embarrassed, but Steve was the complete opposite: one hand was softly tapping along to the beat of the song playing on the radio, while the other was resting calmly on the shift, his body relaxed as he quietly sang along.

The brunet forced his eyes back to the road in front of him, glancing at street signs they passed–none of which he recognized. Steve's singing got louder over the volume of the song and Bucky tried to ignore it, tried to focus on something other than the boy next to him, but it was almost impossible. He was about to politely ask Steve to stop singing when he actually heard Steve's voice.

Bucky froze. Steve's voice was beautiful.

He decided right then and there that he would be fine if some god decided to smite him right then and there–at least he would die happy, listening to his angel sing.

Bucky, under Steve's musical spell, finally relaxed in the passenger seat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He didn't care about the street signs anymore, didn't care that Steve could be lost himself, didn't care that he might never get home.

He was content.

Until Steve decided to speak instead of sing.

"So, that guy...he was the one you were with last night, right?" Bucky's bubble of calm was popped by Steve's rough voice, and he opened one eye to glance over at his companion. He noticed how Steve's body was a bit more tense than when he'd closed his eyes, and his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. The brunet felt a little jolt in his heart when he saw Steve's clenched jaw and thought he's jealous!

But it quickly disappeared when he thought a more logical thought: he's upset he left Sharon all alone.

Disappointment made Bucky drop his shoulders, and he went back to leaning against the seat. He'd completely forgotten about Steve's question until the blond himself said his name again, and Bucky snapped up.

"Oh! Sorry. Yeah, that was...that was Adam," Bucky spoke gently, sighing when he thought of Adam and how he'd just left him all alone in the restaurant.

"If you feel bad about leaving him, when I walked by he was on his phone, texting someone named 'Beau', so...I think he's alright," Steve reassured Bucky, whose shoulders dropped once again, this time in relief.

"Oh. Good." Steve raised an eyebrow at this, and Bucky turned red. "I-I mean, not good, I mean...it's good that he's not concerned with me–I mean, we had fun and all but it never would've worked out, he's too rich and too snobby and nothing like–" Bucky finally stopped himself as he realized what he was about to say: nothing like you, Steve.

"Nothing like...?" Steve prompted, and Bucky paled, trying to think of something to say. When he came up with nothing, he just shook his head and cleared his throat.

"Nothing. It just...wouldn't have worked out, that's all." Bucky turned to stare out the window, his thoughts running wild.

Wouldn't have worked out because he's nothing like Steve? Does this mean I'm never going to be able to date anyone without comparing them to Steve?

Bucky sucked in a breath as he felt a familiar sting behind his eyes.

No, no, no. I am not crying in front of Steve, not now. He'd just think I'm upset about Adam when in reality, I'm upset because I'll never have a love life.

Bucky let out a shaky sigh and lifted his hands, pushing them into his eyes in an attempt to shove the tears back down to where they came. It didn't really work, and neither did trying to be inconspicuous.

"Buck, you alright?" Steve asked, turning onto Tasha's street–finally, something Bucky recognized.

The brunet shook his head, on instinct, before stopping and nodding instead, hoping Steve didn't catch it.

"Y-Yeah, fine...just a headache is all," he said, which wasn't a complete lie. Ever since he saw Sharon, his head had started to pound. He'd ignored it up until now.

"Well, here's Tasha's place. Do you want me to come inside–"

"Nope! No, I'm good, thank you Stevie. And thank you for taking me home, I really appreciate it." Bucky quickly rushed out, not even waiting for the car to stop before opening the door and hopping out. He managed a quick smile towards his crush, noticing how Steve had tensed up and his eyes had widened while he was talking. "See you on Monday!" He called, waving as he jogged up the drive and to the porch, wondering why Steve would get so tense when he thanked him–

Bucky froze, remembering his words from earlier, and glanced over his shoulder with wide eyes to see Steve still sitting there, staring at him with equally wide eyes. Bucky squeaked and ripped open the front door, slamming it and falling against it dramatically.

"I called him Stevie!"