36 or 16?
por qué no ambos?
#36: “I hate you”
#16: “Just shut up and kiss me”
You really don’t see why you and Bucky had to be assigned as a couple on this undercover mission. Natasha got to go shopping, while you and Bucky were stuck sitting outside a cafe waiting for your mark to show up. It sucks. You’d rather be kicking ass than holding hands.
What makes it even worse is that Bucky seems to be enjoying every second of your frustration. He will not stop smirking every time you sigh or roll your eyes or try to kick his ankle under the table, like this is all a really fun game to him. He’s holding your hand on top of the table, stroking his thumb across the back of yours and laughing when you try to squirm away from him. He’s a menace, and if he doesn’t watch it you’re going to kill him before this mission is even halfway done.
“Target has entered the mall,” Sam says through comms. “Heading your way, Natasha.”
You groan. Who knows how long you and Bucky will have to sit here with this charade until your target shows up. You’re supposed to be gathering intel - sometime today he’ll be meeting someone at this cafe, and you and Bucky are going to figure out why and what they’re meeting about. Until then, it’s happy couples, and it’s driving you mad.
“Y’know, we’d be a lot more convincing if you stopped glaring at me every five minutes,” Bucky says, grinning as you once again glance over to glare at him. You try to tug your hand away but he just holds on tighter, body shaking with the effort of containing his laughter.
“We’d be a lot more convincing if I actually liked you,” you snap. Bucky does laugh then, big and booming straight from his chest, his entire face lighting up. You stare at him, speechless for a second, before shaking yourself out of it. This mission is really getting to you.
“What can I get for you today?” a waitress asks as she comes up to your table. You look down to glare at the table, knowing if you tried to speak or make eye-contact you’d probably give away your cover in ten seconds flat. It’s impossible to contain your irritation when you’re around Bucky Barnes, even if it is for a mission.
“We’ll just get some coffees, please,” Bucky says, his grin practically audible. “Oh, and maybe one of those cake things you have on display.”
“Which one?” the waitress asks, “We’ve got-“
“Surprise me,” Bucky says. You resist the urge to gag.
When the waitress walks away with a giggle, you whip your head up to glare daggers at Bucky. He looks back at you with a smug grin on his face, eyes practically sparkling with how much fun he’s having pissing you off.
“Mind not flirting with anything that moves for five minutes while we’re under cover? I thought you wanted to be convincing,” you whisper-yell, digging your fingernails into the back of his hand to let him know you aren’t fucking around.
To your chagrin, Bucky grins wider and raises his eyebrows. “What, are you jealous?”
“For fucks sake,” you mutter, shifting away from him so you no longer have to look at his smug, stupid face anymore.
You scan the street while Bucky plays with your fingers and you try your best not to break his hand. The waitress returns with your coffees and a slice of orange and poppyseed cake, which Bucky thanks her profusely for. You ignore him this time, but that doesn’t roll well with Bucky at all.
He hooks his ankles around the legs of your chair and drags you towards him until you’re practically sat between his knees. You turn to give him a piece of your mind, mission cover be damned, but you find him simply smiling at you with the fork in his hand, a piece of cake stabbed on the end.
“You have got to be kidding,” you say, but Bucky just wiggles his eyebrows and moves the fork closer to your face.
“Open up, sweetheart,” he says. If looks could kill, he would be long dead.
“I hate you,” you say, but you open your mouth and allow Bucky to feed you the damn piece of cake. It tastes good, too, which is really just salt in the wound.
“Alright lovebirds, he’s heading your way,” Natasha says. “He bought a green sweater and put it on, to change his appearance I assume. I don’t think he knows we’re watching him, but he’s paranoid enough to think someone is.”
“Great, he’ll be looking for eavesdroppers,” you say. “He’ll never sit right next to us.”
“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Bucky suddenly blurts. He blushes immediately afterwards while Natasha cackles into comms.
“He’s not wrong,” she says. You glare at Bucky for the both of them.
“No fucking way. You already force-fed me the goddamn cake, I am not letting you-“
“(Y/N), just think about it for a second,” Bucky says. “If we’re making people uncomfortable with PDA, no one will want to look at us. That means if he sits next to us, no one will be looking at him. We’ll do all the work for him, and he’ll never suspect us to be watching him when we’re otherwise occupied.”
“That’s the worst fucking logic I’ve ever heard in my life,” you say. Out of the corner of your eye you see the target approaching, wearing the green sweater Natasha warned you about and walking with an unidentified woman - whoever he’s meeting, you presume.
“It’s the best plan we’ve got,” Bucky says, grinning - he’s enjoying this way too much for your liking.
“It’s a stupid plan! It’s not going to work, we’ll probably just drive him away further and fuck up the whole entire mission-“
“(Y/N),” Bucky sighs, rolling his eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
You stop talking, from pure, indignant rage, and Bucky takes advantage of that moment to cup your jaw and kiss you. He pulls you into him by the hand and you fall against his chest, your other hand coming up to brace yourself on his shoulder with a muffled yelp. Bucky bites your lip and grins way too smug. No way is he winning this one.
You grip his shirt and pull him closer, pressing your bodies together as much as you can in a public place. He grunts against your mouth as your lips slot together practically perfectly, dropping your hand to slide his arm around your waist and hold you against him. His mouth is so hot and soft it should be illegal, and despite the mission and the voice in your head yelling at you that you don’t even like him, you can’t stop yourself from humming contentedly when he slides his tongue into your mouth. It feels like molten heaven, and you’r melting piece by piece.
“Uh, guys. It worked, they’re sitting right next to you. You can stop now,” Clint says, watching the whole thing from his snipers perch. Right. The mission. Your fucking job - shit.
You pull away abruptly, gasping for breath but Bucky keeps you close with a hand on the small of your back. His lips are swollen and wet, impossible to look away from even as they curl into a sinful smirk. He slides his hand under the back of your shirt and strokes your skin, soft despite the callouses. Whatever you were going to yell at him about getting carried away gets lost in the gentle movement of his hand.
“Still think it was a stupid plan?” he whispers against your ear, so you mark doesn’t hear you from the next table over. They’re starting to discuss something in shady euphemisms that sounds a lot like a weapons deal to you, but you can barely focus.
You thunk your head against Bucky’s shoulder to catch you breath while he laughs, his chest rumbling against yours. You half-heartedly punch him on the shoulder and say, “I still hate you.”
“Of course you do, sweetheart,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t let go and neither do you.