Summary: Bucky leaving the room to take care of his situation again. After watching you, again.
Another closed mission sent the team to a dive bar one Friday after deciding to cheat themselves with a drink. Drinking. It was a novelty to half of them but Y/N had put it in her head that they could feign normality for one night - and no one bothered negotiating with her anymore.
Uncomfortably packed into a booth, Bucky noticed her cheeks were already flushed from drinking as she returned from the bar.
“An old fashioned for my old fashioned,” she beamed handing Bucky one of two whiskeys before climbing over his lap to retreat to her spot.
It was a single step, just one, but Bucky held his breath for the moment, looking anywhere else.
This always happened when they shared a room. His gaze would find her, then he’d catch himself staring, try to fixate on something else, but then he would find her again. And so, it had begun.
They were thigh to thigh and his skin was alight, he tried to recentre his thoughts, distract himself from her. He focussed on savouring the taste of each sip letting it swim in his mouth for a second before each gulp. He had remembered something about how repeating an action is a good relaxer.
He thought he was managing until he felt a hand hold down a bouncing leg.
“What’s up Buck?” Y/N’s warm eyes met his through thick lashes. While the alcohol left his bloodstream quicker than the length of his lingering stare, he was nonetheless intoxicated, his blood still rushing.
After a notable gulp on his part he breathed out a “fine”.
“Buck if you want to go it’s okay, I’m just happy you came at all.” She was right. It was hardest for him to say “no” to her. When someone as pure as Y/N asked something of you, saying no made him feel like the bad guy. And he was sick of being the bad guy.
“No it’s okay, you’re right I need to start coming out more.“ He said, eyes darting to her hand still rested on his thigh, before catching Steve reaching for a mic.
“Besides,” Bucky chucked in a smile, “Steve’s about to make it worth while.”
Steve had taken the stage with Natasha for her slurred rendition of Livin’ on a Prayer. Y/N’s hearty laugh reverberated through the bar as she leaned into him. It was infectious and he knew he should be looking at the show rather than her smile but he indulged himself.
She had her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiled till her eyes closed. Her fringe fell covering her eyes, but not before Bucky spotted the creases that formed by her eyes. Creases that only materialised on the rarest of occasions.
“I can’t help myself,” Y/N said - ironic thought Bucky - at last she pulled her hand away from his burning legs. She walked her way to the stage and for the first time that night he let his gaze drop, taking in how her jeans hugged her curves - something he rightly banned a long ago.
But then she turned (his eyes shooting up in time) to be met with a mischievous grin.
“No,” he said. It was a stern no, one that would shut down the efforts of anyone else but she was unfazed.
“Bucky, let’s do Controlla. I know you know the song, I’ve heard you in the gym and the shower. You’re a closet Drake fan, it’s cute. Please, let’s give them a show.”
He choked. Oh he wanted to give them a show, he’d thought of them putting on a show more times than he can recall. He drowned in thoughts of her moving, dancing, swaying her hips but alone, and just for him.
He shook his head again.
“Bucky, please,” she whined, “what do I have to do to get you up there? Get on my knees?”
To her that was innocent. She didn’t know that his stomach flipped at the meagre thought of her on her knees, begging. Yep, that could get him doing things. Nights spent thinking about this ended in one way for him and he knew he couldn’t risk getting any more worked up.
“Doll don’t push it, this is more than enough trying for one night,” he said.
“’Trying,’ wow. Here I thought you were actually enjoying yourself,” she said dryly. Now it was her turn to shake her head turning back for the stage as guilt spilled through him.
If mere proximity got him feeling this much desire he knew this was the right thing to do.
The opening of Controlla sounded and his smirk was unmissed by Y/N. She began singing.
He was losing it. His bouncing leg was the least of his worries now. Y/N’s tipsy state was showing in her confidence, she was typically confident but not this.. suggestive.
Her hands travelled across her body dancing her way off the stage to the rest of the team who were now relaying the chorus back to her.
Steve grabbed her by the hand dancing for a few seconds before they fell into each other laughing. His hands found her waist and her free hand was placed flat on his chest.
And Bucky had seen enough. Half angry and half in love, he got up and walked away.
The trip home didn’t help calm him down. He couldn’t dismiss her touch, her whiskey breath and her flushed face which often made an appearance in his dreams.
Finally back in his room and already in a sweat he shut he door, letting his head fall against it for a moment before sitting on the edge of his bed.
It didn’t take long before his mind wandered. He decided there was truth to her words and that she would like it if he got aggressive. He admitted defeat releasing himself from the strain of his jeans.
He imagined the arch in her back while he’d take her from behind, conjuring the sounds that would escape her lips.
He pumped himself wondering if it was for him, if anything was reciprocated or if it was standard. His muffled groans filled the room recalling her dancing figure. She didn’t play fair in a low cut cami with a pink lacey bra playing peek a boo with him.
On the edge, his head fell back and a forbidden groan escaped. Fuck he wanted her and he didn’t know what to do with himself.