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

twenty one

Bucky

Bucky's fingers furiously tapped on his phone screen as he texted–yelled at–his best friend, who'd forced him to come to the mall today. It was her idea for them to go out, her who convinced him that the mall was a good idea, her who deserted him to go shopping for lingerie.

Bucky: steve is here. i hate u

Tasha: whoops ;* have fun lover boy

Bucky groaned and threaded his hand through his hair, glaring at his phone. He would just have to kill her later, after he figured out how the hell he was going to deal with Steve, who was currently in a dressing room trying on some new clothes–

A throat cleared, bringing Bucky's gaze up.

His phone fell from his hand.

Steve was standing in front of him wearing some ripped baggy jeans, and a dark blue shirt with a graffitied jean jacket over top. For added effect, he'd slipped on a black beanie.

Bucky had to make sure he wasn't drooling.

"Is it that bad?" Steve asked, suddenly concerned about his appearance. He turned to the mirror and took off the beanie, running his hand through his sandy hair.

Bucky blinked a couple times, dropping to the ground and picking up his phone.

"What? No, it looks great–I mean good–I mean, cool, I mean–" Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, willing himself to stop talking. Steve chuckled from in front of the mirror, and Bucky's cheeks flared red.

"You think it looks good?" Bucky nodded furiously, before dialing it back, remembering that they were just friends. Just friends.

Friends don't get turned on by each other.

Bucky held in a groan and adjusted in the leather seat, pulling his ankle up to rest on his knee in an attempt to hide what his mind so brutally pointed out.

"I wonder what Sharon will think of it," Steve mumbled, and Bucky froze.

"She'll love it," he said through a strained smile, boner forgotten.

The mention of Sharon sent Bucky into a mini-spiral and he cleared his throat, standing up. He had to get out of that tiny dressing room, get away from Steve before he had another panic attack.

Oh, how hard it is to love this boy.

He shook his head at that–it was way too easy. Loving Steve was like second nature to him, which was why it was so hard to stop. He'd tried that, and look where it got him!

"Steve, I'm gonna head out, I hope your nose is feeling better-"

"Buck, you wanna go out with me?"

Bucky froze, his hand resting on the doorknob to the dressing room. He felt a warm presence behind him, almost as if Steve was reaching an arm out to him, and when he slowly turned to face his crush, that's exactly what he was doing.

"I–uh–that's–"

Bucky's heart soared, and then it dropped.

"That's not what I meant, sorry. I meant, do you wanna run down to the food court with me and grab some grub?" Steve recovered smoothly, smiling sheepishly and retracting his hand, running it through his hair instead.

Bucky's mind raced.

Of course he doesn't want to ask me out. Why would he ever want to do that? What's wrong with me for hoping that he would?

For the second time in the past minute, Bucky forced a pained smile.

"Sure, Steve." At this, Steve relaxed, not noticing how Bucky had somehow made himself smaller, trying to curl in on himself.

"Alright, just lemme change and then we'll go!" He sent Bucky a thumbs-up, who half-heartedly reciprocated it, that stiff smile still gracing his lips until Steve was back in the dressing room. He deflated, falling back into the leather chair and sighing.

"Damn this boy."

~~~

"So, what do you want to eat?" The blond asked, breaking the awkward silence between the two that had appeared after they picked a table and got situated. Bucky lifted his head from his sulking position and glanced around, his eyes connecting with a small pizza joint in the corner. His eyebrows shot up as his stomach grumbled, and he realized just how hungry he was.

"I want pizza." Stee scoffed, looking his companion up and down–not knowing the effect it had on him.

"You just had it the other night." He argued, and Bucky narrowed his eyes into slits, ignoring the blush growing on his cheeks.

"Fuck the other night. I want pizza, so shut up and go get me a slice." He demanded, his hunger overpowering the fact that he was sitting across from his crush.

Steve's eyebrows shot up as his lips parted in shock, before he quickly recovered and smirked widely, standing up.

"Yes sir," he teased, saluting Bucky. He turned and jogged over to the corner, his shirt riding up his back as he did so.

Bucky would've been focusing on that if he wasn't so focused on the act of dominance he had just performed on Steve, and how much it turned him on.

Groaning softly, Bucky put his head on the table and pictured his mother–his nasty, bitch of a mother–parked right next to Sharon, and sighed in relief as his situation slowly calmed.

Of course, it came right back up as soon as he looked up and saw Steve making his way over to him, a large drink in one hand and his pizza slice in the other, above his head as he chewed on it.

Bucky was more focused on how hot he looked instead of how it was his piece of pizza Steve was munching on, but he quickly shook his head and playfully glared at Steve.

"That's my pizza," he said as Steve sat down, who shrugged as he swallowed, pushing the slice over to Bucky.

"Our pizza," Steve smirked, wrapping his lips around the straw and sucking a large gulp from the drink.

Bucky almost combusted.

Family friendly area. Can't. Make. Weird. Noises.

How he calmed down and ate his lunch with Steve without any more issues will always be a mystery to him, as he was torturing himself so much.

I bet Steve likes torture.

Bucky choked on his pizza.