Bucky is attracted to everyone.
It’s not an exaggeration. Well, barely. Bucky has always been flirtatious, and in the 21st century he’s gotten worse - or better, depending on your perspective. With the Hydra programming out of his system (more or less) he’s as gregarious as ever, and there’s always time in his schedule for a nice quiet drink with…anyone who’ll have him, really.
Which is a pretty large number of people. Bucky is extraordinarily good at being charming when he wants to be.
"Do all these people know about each other?” asks Sam incredulously, once Bucky has departed to pick up his evening’s date - an old friend of Pepper’s, tall and plump and rosy-cheeked, who is apparently an avid fan of musicals (Bucky has spent the past week watching Wicked recordings on YouTube).
"Yep." Steve doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t even have to think about it - honesty has always been Bucky’s strict policy, since long before lifestyles like his were ever spoken about in public. "He’s not…he cares about the people he’s seeing, Sam. All of them." Steve shrugs. "Personally, I’ve never understood how he can remember so many names, let alone that many meaningful bonds, but…well, somehow he does it.”
Sam looks pensive. “Do you think,” he says slowly, chewing on his words, “I don’t know if it’s weird but…what if I asked Bucky for a drink sometime? Seems like it’d be a good experience, you know?” He gives Steve an embarrassed little grin. “I mean, there’s gotta be a reason he’s so popular, right?”
It’s another question Steve doesn’t have to think about. “Sam, I guarantee that a date with you will make Bucky’s day.”