THE NINE TIMES STEVE GAVE YOU A FUNNY LOOK
Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader
(Platonic), Avengers x Reader (platonic)
Warning(s): the kinda language Steve would smh at
World Count: 3827
Author’s Note: I got so into this it’s not even funny. After like, two years of not doing anything on tumblr, it isn’t surprising that i write a Steve oneshot for the first time since. But on that note, I don’t only do Steve works, please feel free to request other characters and/or fandoms: masterlist - prompt list.
Drabble ★ Imagine ★ One Shot ★ Fanfiction
Original ★ Requested
[Y/N] [Y/L/N] was an asshole.
You were an asshole.
You are an asshole.
You were slightly narcissistic with an ego as big as the tower, you were very beautiful, and the last person on earth to ever be considered shy.
That made you and Tony Stark best of pals (most of the time), and you and Steve as foes (all the time). He wasn’t rude or a jerk or at all hostile, Steve was just always on edge with you. He didn’t know whether or not your jokes were jokes (you always reverted back to slitting your enemy’s throats – Steve being a righteous guy and all, he wasn’t all that optimistic with that choice), or if you really were here to save people and not for the money the government and Tony Stark paid you — eh, what can you say, it’s very, very good money.
Humble was also not on your list of qualities.
Bold red lips, a wide grin to showcase your pearly white teeth, and heart shaped sunglasses. That was you in your room as you blasted out music at exactly 2100 hours.
You and Steve shared a floor in the Avengers tower.
Why? It was a decision that was absolutely not your choice, but you had no problem with it. Fucking with Steve was fun.
See, Tony had a whole floor to himself, same as Bruce and Vision. Nat and Clint were right below them (Clint usually at his place with Laura, though), Sam and Scott also had their own floor, Wanda and Pietro, then last but not least, Thor either in Asgard or London with Jane – which then pretty much left you and Steve together. Peter kind of lived here during the day then and back at his apartment with May during the evenings. He was a total pest.
A knock went by unnoticed by you. But an upset looking Steve did. He stalked into your (much larger) room and paused your music. He turned and gave you a look.
You raised your brow as you paused your late night dancing. You pushed your sunglasses further down your nose to peak up at the Captain. “Captain.” You greeted, nodding your head towards the brooding soldier once. “May I help you?“ You raised your perfectly sculpted brow in questioning.
Steve took a deep breath and crossed his (also very large) arms. “Your music was too loud and I’m trying to sleep. Can’t you at least keep it down?”
You snorted. “It’s barely nine o'clock, grandpa.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not a grandpa.” He grumbled with an offended frown. “Just turn it down, will you?”
You smirked and pushed your glasses back up. “Oh, I’m sorry, have I spangled your stars, grandpa?”
With a final narrowed stare, Steve twisted his Dorito-body around and stalked back to his room.
You chuckled and resumed to your midnight dancing with wine.
That was the first time you got on his nerves. It was also the first time you were on the receiving end of his very famous looks.
The second time you received a stupid look was during a mission - in the middle of combat, mind you. This stupid robot who called himself Ultron was trying to ruin everything, and apparently, it was up to you and the rest of the Avengers to stop him – or it. It’s not that you wanted to. it was kind of what Tony Stark paid you to do. And like hell would you pass up Tony Stark’s pay checks.
Steve trusted you now, at least. You only saved his ass, like, a hundred (three) times after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and he found out his best friend from seventy years ago was still alive. A wild ride, that year was.
Anyway, you and the team were in Sokovia fighting robots.
Fuck this shit, if the money wasn’t so good you’d drop your signature double pistols and walk the opposite direction. But one, your pistols were very delicate (silver with diamonds), and you were asked very nicely to stay by Bruce - and you could never say no to Bruce.
In hindsight, the view wasn’t so bad and I guess – I guess – that saving people felt a little good (don’t tell anybody). Sokovia was so far high into the sky that you could have sworn that you could see angels flying around in the distance – some helpful angels, huh.
The sky was beautiful, though. And so was Captain America’s ass.
You beamed at the sight and turned to Steve. “Hey, Cap?” You called out, shooting a robot.
Steve grunted in acknowledgement as he kicked another robot and decapitated it with his shield. “What?” He gave you a glance that barely lasted a second.
You shot another robot. Then another. Then another. Then you turned to him. “Nice ass.”
That was look number two.
"Yes, Ms [Y/L/N]?”
"What’s your faculty on nicknames?”
"Activated by Mr Stark, Ms.”
"Huh … so, like, what are you allowed to call me?”
"Whatever you ask, Ms [Y/L/N].”
“Right, right … how about Supreme Leader [Y/L/N]?”
"Activated, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”
"Huh … thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y.”
"Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”
Of course, that didn’t go unnoticed for long. You were eating dinner with the team – something that didn’t happen often – and Steve took this time to lecture the team about a mission in a few days time. Three days, to be exact. It was located in Paris, and you were all to attend a gala crawling with HYDRA agents, mercenaries, psycho bitches, and anything else in between.
“ – so we’ll go over the plans again after dinner – ”
You groaned loudly and threw your head back. You dropped your knife loudly causing a clink made by the knife and plate. “Rogers!” You whined, “We went over this yesterday! And this morning at breakfast! And two seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinner in peace, fighting the urge to grab this fork and shove it through my eye – ” you ignore his wince, “and now again tomorrow?! If you even bring this stupid mission up again, I will resign.” You threatened. “Resign, you hear me. R. E. S. I. G. N.” Drama Queen is also in your list of qualities. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell him.”
Natasha rolled her eyes, Sam cleared his throat, Steve still had his wince and sullen/guilty face, Clint looked bored as he played with his peas, Thor looked confused, Pietro look amused, Wanda was too busy chatting up Vision, Scott was – where was Scott? Tony had a smirk, and poor Bruce just didn’t know where to look. Peter just chewed his chicken in anticipation, looking back and forth between you and Steve for a reaction.
F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out soon enough. “Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].” Then the AI began repeating your every word.
Natasha’s brow shot up. “Supreme Leader? Really?”
“ – And this morning at breakfast. And – ”
You shrugged your shoulders.
“ – seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinn – ”
Steve groaned. “That’s enough, F.R.I.D.A.Y., please stop.”
You rolled your eyes. “Traitorous bitch.” You mumbled.
Cue look number three.
The fourth time you received a look was when Steve was fixing a lightbulb and he suddenly found himself on the floor. He did know you guys hired people for that kind of work, right?
Anyway, you and Pietro - bored as hell and without anything to do - you both decided to race from the ground floor of the Avengers tower, to the very top – on foot – using the staircases.
And the silver asshole was absolutely not allowed to use his powers. If he did, you had every right to shoot him in the shoulder with your trusty diamond pistols and he would have to take it like a man. He promised so, himself. “Scouts Honour.” Pietro said, saluting you.
To which Wanda replied with a snort and, “What Scouts Honour?”
You were enhanced, yes, but you were tired. Not too much, just enough not to be tired after running twenty-six flights of stairs. You and Pietro both slammed into Steve’s ladder as he fixed a lightbulb.
You didn’t even bother looking back.
You could not lose this bet.
The entire time you ran, you repeated the same thing in your head over, and over again. Run, Forrest, Run! Whatever - If Pietro won, you had to massage him whenever he felt like it for an entire month. If you won, well, he had to give you a piggy back ride whenever you felt like it. Also for a month.
Steve was really upset after that. He wouldn’t look at you for a week, and when he finally did, he gave you a long lecture about racing inside the tower. “Blah, blah, blah, someone could get seriously hurt, blah, blah, blah, if I see you two race again, blah, blah, blah.”
You leant over towards Pietro who sat beside you. He was also slouched on his chair, eyes looking at the ceiling in boredom. “Are you also feeling the urge to shove your foot up his ass?”
That was look number four.
Look number five + look number six was kind of your fault.
Steve had arrived after being gone for months. He, along with Sam, had been off around the world searching high and low for James Buchanan Barnes. You wanted to go, you really did. Despite your love for annoying the living shit out of Steve, you still cared about him more than you let on. That was not your fault. How? Well, you know the whole shebang:
Tragic back story: check. Trust issues: check. Daddy issues: check. Issues with not being able to express how you feel without wanting to physically vomit: check.
However, it was in your job description to be able to read people. You were an intelligent person. You knew a lot, you sensed a lot, you observed a lot. You just didn’t show it a lot. And without saying anything, you knew how people felt and most importantly, what they needed.
And Steve just needed his own space – Sam excluded. You were actually kind of jealous of Sam (tell anyone, and you won’t live until the next day). Sam was kind of Steve’s boyfriend (along with dear old Buck-a-roo and Tony).
So while he was gone, you kept your distance. Steve didn’t need any more on his plate, let alone more of your shit. Whenever he called the team for a report or to simply catch up, you never said anything. You had told the crew to just inform him that you were on a mission, in the gym, or off gallivanting somewhere - anywhere, really.
Steve really cared about you though, you knew that. Every time he called he’d see if you were there. And you were. You were there, right behind the monitor that projected him along with the the camera that projected the team from your end. Your face would be resting on your hand, your elbow propped the table. You actually smiled whenever he asked about you. It was cute.
Anyway, you kind of deserved look number five.
Steve had finally arrived with Bucky by his side. Sam had already said his hellos and received his welcome-home handshakes and hugs. Steve stayed behind the Quinjet for a few short minutes before hopping off and finally introducing the famous James Barnes.
But you didn’t know that.
And neither did Scott.
You two weren’t racing – nope. You were simply just running to get to the last slice of cake in the main kitchen. In both your defence, it was the last slice of the cake Pepper brought home from Paris. Paris. You loved Paris. And apparently, Scott did, too. If that wasn’t worth running for, what the hell was?
You distinctly remember Pepper saying that it was from Paris, and that it was the best cake she’d ever tasted.
So, without looking, you barged through the team yelling bloody murder. Scott was a little behind seen as though you’d throw whatever the hell you could at him. That last slice was yours, and ramming, pushing, throwing off the building, and threatening whoever you needed to just to that slice, you would sure as hell do it.
You felt your hip slam into a corner of a table: ignored. You tripped over a step: ignored. You felt your shoulder ram into a very strong and metal-like object: ignored. You saw a couch: ignored + jumped over.
But alas, you held in your hand … the slice.
A grin erupted on your face. Poor Scoot looked crestfallen.
“Sorry, Lang. This one’s mine.” You grinned.
A clearing of the throat made you jump. What the hell did they want?
When you looked up, you saw the entire team + Steve + The Winter Soldier.
“Oh.” You trailed off. You gave Steve a sheepish smile. “Hi, Steve, good to see you again. Did I tell you I missed you? Because I did.”
“Didn’t I tell you to stop running in the tower?” Steve stared into your [Y/E/C] eyes with his blue ones.
“No. You told said to stop racing.”
Steve didn’t reply. Instead he gave you look number five.
You chuckled nervously and stalked towards them. “Sorry.” You looked to Sam and gave him a large hug despite already giving him one earlier. Your right hand still refused to let go of the platter of cake. Then you looked towards James Buchanan Barnes.
Steve cleared his throat. “Buck, meet [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N], meet Bucky.”
Neither of you did anything. Just kinda stared at each other in thought. He tried to read you while you tried to read him.
He was lonely.
Okay, you thought. So you reached your right hand up and gestured him to take your plate. “Here you go. Nice to meet ‘cha.”
Steve gave you another look, only, this one was different. It looked funnier – more odd and curious. A look that you had never seen before. That was look number six.
And this time, you didn’t see anyone’s reactions. You just stared at James Buchanan Barnes, while he stared at you, to the cake, then back to you again.
Thus, a beautiful friendship was born.
Few months later,
Look number seven.
You found yourself in this position a lot, it seems. It would be two in the morning, your head in your hands and your ears perked up.
As an agent, you were trained this way. Your mind had its own mind. Every morning at exactly one o'clock your eyes would flutter open, and without a single thought, your body would move almost mechanically. You’d get up, wash your face, then throw a hoodie over your head. Afterwards, you’d find yourself sitting on the edge of you bed, head in your hands, and your ears waiting for Bucky.
After sleeping in the same floor as Steve and Bucky, Bucky’s room was right across yours. Both your doors were so close you could stand in the hall way, spread your arms, and you’d be able to touch both your door knobs.
Insomnia was something you had as a child. It came very naturally. So, as a cure, you’d take sleeping vitamins – not pills. Though it would help you fall asleep, it was up to you to keep yourself asleep. Five hours was your maximum. If your sleep was disturbed, that’s when you would wake up every day from then on unless you trained yourself otherwise all over again. That could take days, or even weeks going up to months.
So every day, it was up to you. You didn’t want Steve waking up and losing precious sleeping hours. So instead of training yourself to sleep for five hours all over again, you allowed yourself two hours of rest every night. From then on, you’d stay awake and listen for Bucky’s screams.
Then you’d find your feet silently landing on the floor and rushing towards Bucky’s room.
Here are your steps:
- Lightly press a pillow on Bucky’s metal arm and cover it.
- Sit on his arm to keep him from attacking you.
- Softly say his name as many times as it takes for him to wake
- Press your body harder onto his as he thrashes around.
- Then hug the hell out of him and cradle his head when he wakes and begins to weep.
This would have been the one hundredth time you’ve done this. Even now, you could still remember the fourth time you had done this. You had accidentally left Bucky’s door ajar.
You were observant and smart.
You knew Steve was there.
You guessed you just took a little longer that time to wake Buck up.
You definitely saw Steve’s look then. And again, this look was kind of different. It was a funny look that you had no idea how to read.
The fact that this look was so different, to say it irritated the hell out of you was an understatement. Out of the both of you, it was meant to be you that got under his skin.
You hated feeling this way.
Nowadays, you’ve been more confused than in control.
Back then, you saw Steve, you’d feel the urge to irritate the hell out of him. But now, you’d see Steve, and suddenly, you’d feel a funny feeling in your stomach.
So, naturally, you absolutely despised him for it. Tonight – or morning – when Bucky woke up, he didn’t cry. He just asked if you were hungry. And, naturally, you had said yes. You were always hungry.
Soft music was playing. You didn’t want to wake up Steve, after all. So you stood in the kitchen of your floor and began making pop tarts. Bucky was sitting by the kitchen island while you decided to cheer him up. While the pop tarts were cooking up, you decided to change the music to pop. Then you began dancing.
You were not a dancer. Add that to your list of non-existent qualities.
You sort of just threw your hands in the air and hoped for natural rhythm to save your dignity.
Bucky looked somewhat amused, so that was the goal accomplished.
It all came to an end when Steve cleared his throat. He stared at Bucky in a way that made all of you uncomfortable. Bucky was going to be just fine, that’s what you thought, anyway. Steve thought otherwise. Steve treated him like a broken vase.
That’s how you and Bucky got so close.
You refused to look or listen to any of Steve’s old war stories about Buck. Thus, why you called Bucky “James”.
He wasn’t the Bucky he was in the 40’s. And he wasn’t The Winter Soldier, either. He was someone else.
Steve’s eyes bounced from you, to Bucky, then from Bucky, to you. “[Y/N], maybe now isn’t the time to – ”
“No, Steve,” Steve’s eyes snapped towards Bucky, “it’s fine.” Bucky said quietly. “She’s actually making me happy here.”
After that, nobody talked to a while. Bucky stood from
his stool and began to walk off.
You stepped towards him, “James - ”
He shook his head. “It’s alright [Y/N], trust me. I’ll be fine tonight. I’m gonna try and go back to sleep.”
Well, that was new.
You gave Bucky a funny look but nodded. “Okay. Call if you need me.”
Bucky didn’t say anything after that. He just walked back to his room.
Your pop tarts popped out from the toaster. After that it was left untouched.
Steve cleared his throat. “[Y/N] – ”
You shook your head. “Nope.”
Steve’s forehead frowned. “What?”
“Do you want Bucky to get over what HYDRA did to him?” You asked. You didn’t wait for him to reply. “Well, too bad so sad, he isn’t going to get over it. Bucky needs to accept it. Then he needs to be angry. Then he needs to be sad. Then after all that, he needs to forgive himself.” You said, your hands on your waist. “And you making him feel like broken glass isn’t gonna help. It’ll confine him and make him feel crazy. Treat him like a normal person, you jackass. Let him feel like a man. Not a baby.” You took a deep breath and pulled your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. You looked at your pop tarts briefly before turning around and walking away.
And you didn’t miss his look when you did. Steve had already realised he was wrong the moment his eyes fell on the toaster.
You left your pop tarts.
Look number nine:
Again, it was in the kitchen. Bucky’s nightmares were slowly fading. Whenever he woke, you’d stay until he fell back asleep. Then you’d proceed to the kitchen and rummage for food.
“Hey, Supreme Leader.” Your head snapped towards the kitchen entrance.
You gave a nod to the blond man in acknowledgement. “Captain.” You said in a mocking soldier’s tone.
You both stood in silence for a while. You didn’t mind it for a while. Your arms were preoccupied with balancing cartons and containers of food as you boldly chewed on your Lucky Charms cereal – and then the silence just got too long. Steve stared at you with a funny look. Eh, eating cereal without milk at three in the morning wasn’t all that unusual – but for some reason, you had a really big feeling the look wasn’t about the cereal. That was actually the reason why Tony always complained about all the marshmallow gone in the morning. Not your fault. Marshmallows were the best part and everyone knew that.
You squinted your eyes as you watched him watch you. A silent growl of impatience rose to your throat. You couldn’t really speak so you opted with growling.
Still no reply.
Finally, you forcefully swallowed your marshmallow and pointed an accusing finger at Steve. His look was different again. It wasn’t annoyed or of frustration. Really it just frustrated you.
You huffed. “You’re looking at me funny.”
Steve just smiled softly. “Bucky loves you.” He said from his position by the entrance of the kitchen.
You just smirked and shoved another handful of marshmallows into your mouth. “Figured that one out a long time ago, Rogers.” Your hand reached into the box once again. “What can I say, I’m good at making friends.”
Steve chuckled silently. Then he swallowed and looked directly into your eyes. “I love you. And not the way Bucky does.”
You swallowed. The you nodded slowly. Your heart felt so full, you had no idea what to say. And so you said the first thing that popped into your head. You said what you would say, and not stupid Nicholas Sparks movies.
“I know.” You grinned. “And I may or may not feel the same.” Before he could reply, your smile wiped off as you pointed your finger at him again accusingly, “I said maybe.”