Chapter Text
“Is this seat taken?”
I crunched into my popcorn without looking away from the screen. “Yes. You might know ‘im, actually. Tall, brown hair, blue eyes, usually wears a leather jacket and scowls a whole lot?”
Bucky Barnes snorted as he lowered that burly frame into the seat to my right and then stretched out like a lazy tiger. “Sounds like a handful.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I said, rolling my eyes. I then smiled for real this time and pitched my open bag of popcorn in his direction. “Welcome back, sarge.”
“Good to be back, girlie,” he said, grabbing a handful. “How ya been?”
“Good, just watching more vintage movies.”
“Nice. What’ve you seen?”
“A Stolen Life. It’s one of the ones where Bette Davis plays her own twin.”
“Oh yeah, she did it twice. That’s the first time. What did you think?”
“The technology was amazing. It certainly felt like two twins the entire time. On the whole, it was a little slow and a little sedate for Bette Davis, but it wasn’t half-bad.”
Bucky smirked. “And you somehow wound up with Glenn Ford again, I see.”
I rolled my eyes again. “I know. I was a bit crestfallen when I saw his name, but it’s unavoidable sometimes. Wasn’t bad at all, though. I find myself gravitating towards her as an actress, especially after I watched the mini-series about her and Joan Crawford. It’s what first interested me in vintage movies before I up and decided to write a screenplay.”
His brows rose in surprise and delight. “You’re a writer?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Wow,” he said, and for once, I could hear the sincerity. Most people balked when I told them since everyone knows writers are notoriously poor. “Is that your first one?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice work, girlie,” he said warmly. “So you’re watching the greats so you’ll know how to navigate story and character while you’re revising the script?”
“Exactly. See, you get me. I want to put my best foot forward, so I look out for influential, iconic, or important vintage movies so I know what might be best for my own story.”
“That’s damn cool, I mean it. Good for you. Lots of people talk about writing one, but some never even start and some take twenty years just to write one. You’re ahead of the curve.”
I blushed. “Thanks. How about you? How are things in your world?”
Bucky huffed before grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Still can’t stand my therapist, but I suppose that’s just my nature. Been kinda quiet lately, which I like.”
He then noticed I didn’t have a drink this time and offered his, to my utter delight. But I had to tease him first. “I’m not gonna get Super Soldier cooties, am I?”
Bucky eyed me. “The fuck’s a cootie?”
I laughed and then took a sip. He’d gotten Starry, amusingly enough. “Sorry. That one is probably out of use by now; I’m an elder god millennial. That one used to be a playground taunt. Cooties equal germs, basically.”
“Elder god millennial,” he snorted, chuckling in his throat. “I like that. I mostly just say I’m old.”
I nudged his knee with my own. “Excuse you.”
“I’d never even imply that you’re old,” he said sweetly. “You’re just a girl compared to me.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Nice save, sarge.”
The trailers began and we complained good-naturedly between the two of us after making sure no one else had entered the theater but for us, so now we could chat freely during the film without disturbing anyone. The premise of His Girl Friday was a brilliant female reporter and writer for a newspaper is trying to break things off with her emotionally manipulative husband, wanting him to grant her a divorce so she can marry her new beau. The husband knows she loves the chase, so he pretends if she helps him with a last story, he’ll sign the papers, but what he is truly doing is manipulating everything around her and the new beau so she falls back in love with him and the madness of chasing stories and abandons the happy but sedate life she’d have if she married the new guy and left town. It was amazingly snappy dialogue and quick pacing with lots to enjoy and it also somewhat points out the tragic way she eventually falls for his shit all over again. Much like Gone with the Wind and Gilda, it wasn’t at all what I expected in a good way.
The lights came up and Bucky and I vacated the front row. He held the door for me as per tradition. “So what’d you think?”
“It’s an absolute shame it didn’t get any Oscar nominations,” I confessed, shaking my head. “But we’ve constantly had times the Academy ignored brilliant movies for petty reasons, so that probably goes without saying. I found it very fascinating. It speaks intelligently about ambition, control, and the adrenaline rush and intrigue of the world of news and media. It’s certainly bittersweet she fell back into her old ways, but it definitely made it a dynamic story.”
“And a realistic one, too, since sometimes we get in our own ways and mess up something good by focusing on something we think is important, but it’s really not,” Bucky said, holding the outer door to the lobby open as well. "I think the movie’s kind of a reminder to learn what’s important to your own self and don’t be distracted by blind ambition.”
“Yeah, it’s a very good study of blind ambition, I agree.” I frowned as I noticed the rain. “Boo. I gambled and lost. Thought it wasn’t gonna rain.”
“All good,” Bucky said, slipping off his jacket and passing it to me.
I blinked at the gesture in total surprise, blushing. “O-Oh, you don’t have to do that—”
“Yeah, I do,” he drawled with a little playful smirk. “Because you’re taking me to dinner so we can chat about vintage movies.”
I blushed even more deeply, but managed to recover this time. I arched my eyebrow. “Oh, is that what I’m doing tonight?”
He grinned and draped the leather jacket over my head, grabbing my hand as if it were nothing strange at all. “Mm-hmm. I like burritos. How about you?”
I laughed as he tugged me along beside him. His right hand was very warm and strong in mine. “Burritos work for me.”
We scampered through the rain around the corner to a nearby hole-in-the-wall burrito spot with one of those Moe’s type of walk-in and your order is made in front of you situations. Thankfully, I avoided enough puddles to not get anything on me too bad. Bucky just toughed it out since he ran hot—I could feel him radiating heat next to me in the theater—and so it meant his clothes would probably dry fairly quickly. Since I knew I’d be seeing Bucky again, I’d decided on a turquoise gradient cocktail dress and flats, so I knew I looked cute but not like I was trying extra hard. Look, I know better, trust me. I’m not stupid enough to think I can turn the head of Bucky fucking Barnes, but I’d damn sure look cute beside him as often as possible.
When it was time to pay, I grabbed my wallet, but Bucky just rolled his eyes and forked over forty bucks, elbowing me while muttering that he’d been kidding. She gave him change and he tucked it into his wallet, picking a corner booth with low lights so he’d likely be less recognized. We grabbed our drinks and some salsa for the table, then sat digging into them—steak for him, chicken for me.
“I think it’s also a very brilliant knock against hack journalism,” I said in between bites. “The way they were just so doggedly after the story, how the innocent lives they ruin with lies have consequences, how they just have to do anything to sell a paper…it’s both sad and interesting that our modern world has the exact same problem and always has.”
Bucky shook his head. “Trust me, I’m the last person to ever trust or like the press, so I get it.”
I couldn’t help offering him a softer look. “God, yeah. For a while there, they were being pretty damn awful with their accusations even though the files that Natasha eventually released proved you were literally brainwashed and mind-controlled. Not that it matters to the working press. What’s a little thing like facts?”
He snorted. “Big time. I wasn’t allowed out in the public for a very long stretch. They knew it’d take a long time for things to finally boil over and the public eventually shifted away from hating me to at least tolerating me.”
“Well, when the Flag Smashers story broke, it gave people a better perspective of what you’ve been through. You keep choosing to do the right thing in spite of all your trauma. That’s a big deal, Bucky, especially to any veterans or people with mental illness. Seeing you succeed sometimes gives them hope and courage that their own lives will improve someday.”
He blushed then. “Dunno about that, but thanks for saying so.”
“Oh, come on,” I said playfully. “I’ve only met you twice and I’m already enamored. I think once they had the story explained to them better, people started to support you and want good things for you. Like I said, your exhibit at the museum is one of the most popular ones they have.”
His smile turned shy for just a second. “Really?”
“Dude, we had to pick a different time from the original because they were at capacity,” I told him honestly. “Trust me, people are coming around on the issue. Helps that you’re stupid-levels of handsome too, so thank your parents’ memory for that flawless facecard.”
Bucky laughed then. “Thanks. No one’s ever said it like that before; that’s how I know you’re a good writer.”
He sipped his drink. “You gonna let me read it?”
I sputtered on the next sip. “What?!”
“The script,” he insisted. “I want to see it.”
“…why?”
His brows lifted. “Um, because you’re smart and it sounds like you’re a good writer?”
I blushed horrendously hard, my voice strained. “W-Well, thank you, but…I mean it’s…it’s not ready? Not for someone like you who’s actually experienced life instead of only writing about it.”
He frowned, confused. “Who says you haven’t experienced life?”
“I’m a bit of a homebody and introvert,” I admitted, wincing. “And I don’t date frequently. I mean, what the hell do I know about life? I feel like you’d find my work dreadfully boring. You’ve saved the world a minimum of twice, so why would you even find it interesting?”
He studied me for a second. “Let me put it this way: because I’m out there fighting Hydra agents and aliens and assassins, when I want to relax, I want something that’s got nothing to do with all that crap. It’s why I’m still enjoying all these vintage movies. I want to watch and read something that’s got nothing to do with guns and fist fights because my life is guns and fist fights. Don’t discount yourself like that. We’ve only spoken twice and I can already tell you’re bright as hell. It’s probably already a really good script and all you need to do is polish it.”
I sat there, stunned by his honest words. “Oh. I…thank you for explaining that to me. I didn’t think of it that way. I’ll try to work on the self-deprecation.”
“Good.” He munched on a tortilla chip, then smirked at me. “You’re cute as a button, by the way. You bragged about my facecard, but you’re no better.”
“Stooooop,” I whined, burying my burning face in my hands as he just laughed. “Alright, fine. Let me go and revise it one more time and next time we hang out, I’ll bring you a copy. If you steal it and get the movie made without me, I reserve the right to kneecap you.”
“I’d deserve it,” he said gravely. “Now talk to me about the not dating thing. What’s that about?”
“Mainly focus. I don’t feel that I have the time for both a boyfriend and a screenwriting career, not in the early stages, anyway. And it’s been kinda lackluster dating even before I made the decision to hit the Pause button. Guys nowadays are almost like Russian Roulette. You pull the trigger and hope for the best. I got tired of taking that chance.”
He winced. “Bad one?”
I shook my head. “Not as such. Just…mostly mediocre guys, some that got mean and apathetic towards the end of the relationship so I had to end it myself. I don’t know. I’m just glad I’m not young anymore; now, I feel much more confident in protecting my time and not spending it with men that want to take, but not give.”
“I don’t blame you one bit. I don’t spend any time online ‘cause it’s just too much, but when I hear things in the news or just overhear certain conversations, it makes me want to walk around punching men out. Some of the shit they say when women aren’t around is…”
He exhaled hard. “…I’ve gotten in fights, lemme put it that way. I’m with you. I’m glad I’m not young anymore either. I can kinda just say what I mean in the moment and my best girl can just tell me how she feels and we just try to move in the same direction. If not, no harm, no foul. I try not to have messy breakups ‘cause it’s hard to get through them period, let alone messy.”
I smiled then. “We’re both Maurice Chevalier in that regard, huh?”
He grinned as he got the Gigi (1958) reference. “Love that song. Julius LaRosa did a great cover.”
“That’s my favorite one too. Great voice. Kinda reminds me of Sinatra.”
He chuckled. “So some modern girls do dig Sinatra. Good to know. Wasn’t sure, but he’s a favorite of mine along with Mel Torme.”
“Oh, Mel’s got that sauce,” I moaned happily. “I love Comin’ Home. And his version of Lulu’s Back in Town. So many great tracks.”
“How about Nat King Cole?” he teased.
“Oh, classic. My favorites are Autumn Leaves and Orange Colored Sky.”
Bucky chuckled. “Alright, so are you secretly a romantic deep down? Those are love songs, after all.”
“Well, it’s not my fault the vintage singers often sing about love,” I sniffed. “I’m sure you like something you’ve never done before.”
He met my eyes for a long moment, then offered the most lascivious smirk I’ve ever seen. “Mm-hmm.”
I blushed even harder than earlier. “Goddamn you.”
Bucky laughed. “Sorry, that one was too easy. Couldn’t let it slide.”
“Mean old superhero,” I grumbled before taking another sip. “Rustling my jimmies and such things.”
“Haven’t heard that one in a while,” he snickered. “I like hanging out with you; I get all your references. I never know what Sam’s even talking about half the time, let alone Torres.”
“You’re adjusting well, from what I can tell. Just take your time and you’ll get caught up to our ridiculous little world, trust me.” Now finished eating, I glanced at the theater showings. “Let’s see…our next one would be…oh shit, I forgot October’s next month, so it’s the original Wolfman with Lon Chaney Jr. Up for it?”
“Oh, always up for a classic movie monster,” Bucky agreed. “Seen those yet?”
“I’m missing Frankenstein and The Wolfman, but I’ve seen the others and enjoyed them.” I then perked up. “Oh my God, I just had the best stupid idea.”
Bucky chuckled. “Hit me.”
“Why don’t we both pick a forties character and dress up for the Wolfman showing?”
His brows rose. “Seriously? You want me to wear a costume to the movies?”
“To be fair, nerds do it all the time,” I added sheepishly. “People that like comic book movies sometimes go to the premiere dressed as their favorite character. I know that sounds silly, but—”
Bucky held up his hand. “Like anyone should judge. It’s no different from guys that do Civil War or World War reenactments for a hobby. So it’s gotta be a forties character, huh? Hope I can surprise you with who I pick and vice versa.”
I beamed at him and waggled my eyebrows. “I already know my choice. I’ll let you sit there and imagine what I come up with until we meet again.”
“You might not like my imagination,” he teased in return.
I chuckled, lightening my voice to sound a bit like Bette Davis, “I’m liable to catch something hanging out in your mind.”
He grinned. “You’re definitely a writer. Never seen anyone memorize so many vintage quotes.”
“Sorry.”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t an insult. Trust me, it’s…Steve and some of my old buddies are the only ones left from that era. Everything else is a memory. It’s…kinda nice to talk to someone that reminds me of back then in a good way. You appreciate how things were back then in the ways that matter. Like not the lack of rights for women and gays and people of color—I hate it when people romanticize whites only spaces from back then—but you see all the things I feel like other people miss about that era.”
Bucky cleared his throat, blushing again, but I just touched his hand briefly so he’d look up at me. “Thank you for telling me that. It’s really sweet of you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly, gently running his thumb over the back of my hand before moving his back to his side. “So how’d your family and friends take your movie date with the ex-Winter Soldier?”
I snorted. “Oh, please. Every last woman asked for your phone number. Including my mother.”
He belly-laughed then. “Yeah, went about how I thought. And the men?”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile. “My idiot older brother wants to train with you at the gym. My dad just immediately asked if I was dating you and I confirmed I wasn’t, so he’s cool.”
Bucky sent me a mild look. “He thinks I’m not good enough for you?”
“Oh, by no means. He just knows I said I wasn’t dating and wanted to know if I’d rescinded the decision.”
He sent me another one of those mysterious little smirks and then reached up, gently wiping a glob of sour cream from the corner of my lips with his hand. He wiped it in the napkin and then sat back with an easy, almost leonine grace, his voice warm with things I refused to think about in public. “Can’t imagine why you’d do a thing like that.”
I then glared. “You motherfucker.”
Bucky cackled. “What?”
“Ooh, just you wait,” I seethed, wiping the rest of my mouth just to be safe. “You wait until I see you again. You’re gonna regret messing with me.”
“Do I still get a copy of your movie script?” he teased, nudging my knee under the table.
“Yes, you nuisance, you’ll still get a copy of the script.”
“Thank you.” He stuck his left hand out. “Phone.”
I blinked at that, but passed mine to him. He tapped a few things and then saved his number into mine. “In case one of us has to cancel. Wouldn’t want to show up in full costume alone; gotta be matching or they’ll send us to the funny farm.”
I chuckled. “Where life is beautiful all the time and I’ll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they’re coming to take me away, haa-haa!”
Bucky shook his head again. “You’re so goddamn weird. Too bad I love it.”
He stood and I did too, taking our trash to the cans. By now, thankfully, the rain had stopped, so he walked me back to the parking garage like a gentleman since it was fairly late. I tried not to think about how it now felt like an actual date and instead pretended it was just an evening with a male friend.
A super-hot famous one that liked to flirt with me shamelessly at times.
But we’re not ready to talk about that just yet…
“Ooh,” I said as we walked by a dark blue Ducati motorcycle. “Someone at this theater is pretty spiffy.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You want a ride?”
I stopped dead. “What.”
He fished out his keys. “It’s mine. I usually don’t do endorsement deals, but that one was too good to pass up. They gave it to me for free; only condition is I have to ride it twice a week.”
My jaw dropped. “Holy shit, dude. That’s incredible. And yes, I’d love a ride, but I’m wearing a dress.”
He glanced around. “Well, it’s dark in here, so if your skirt floats up, no one will see. I don’t mind. I can just drive it around the parking garage a few times for fun, if you want.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Do you have two helmets?”
“Of course; wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t. Gotta ride safe.”
I grinned eagerly. “Then hell yeah, sarge. Let’s do it.”
He chuckled and then walked over. He took both helmets out of the rear compartment and then passed one to me. He slid on and fired up that powerful purring engine, beckoning me to join him. I climbed on and scooted until I could wrap my arms around his middle. He moved my arms into where he needed them to be and turned his head, calling over the engine. “Lock your hands together and hang on tight. I won’t ever go fast enough that you’ll risk falling off, but just remember to keep your arms locked and move with the bike, mmkay?”
I gave him a thumbs-up. “Got it, sarge.”
He revved the engine and let the bike drift forward a little, checking the garage was still mostly empty, and then he gunned it up the ramp. I squealed and giggled as we cut through the air like a knife. He rode to the top of the six story garage, turned the bike, and then tilted his head towards me again, his voice teasing. “Ready?”
“Ready!” I bellowed. “Let’s hit it!”
Bucky took off.
It was magical, terrifying, and completely awesome.
I laughed and screamed as he made each turn, going fast enough for it to be fun, but neither dangerous nor too reckless. He minded each turn well and looked ahead quite carefully so we’d never smack into any cars getting ready to leave. We got to the bottom of the garage far too fast for my liking, but he could tell I was having fun, so he did two laps around each level before we went stopped near my little car.
Bucky pulled into the space beside my car and killed the engine. I let go and popped off my helmet, quickly wriggling my blown skirt back down over my bare legs, and I didn’t miss the way his head tilted to track said movement. It made me blush heavily, flattered that I even registered as attractive to a man that had saved the Earth multiple times. We got off the bike and I passed back the helmet, grinning like a fiend. “God, that was fun. I get why you ride it.”
“It is, yeah.” He snorted in amusement. “Your hair’s all over the damn place.”
I shrugged as I started trying to smooth it back into place. “Eh, it’s just proof a good time was had by all.”
He studied me for a second, then very gently asked, “May I?”
I blinked up at him. He kept surprising me, in a good way. “Oh, um…yeah, that’s fine.”
He stepped close. My stomach flip-flopped, but not with fear. Fear would be a lot easier.
Arousal was always a bit startling for me.
He very gently smoothed my hair down in the back and at the top, slipping his fingers through it until it started to settle around my face as normal. He didn’t look down into my face, as it would probably feel too intimate, just concentrating on fixing it back to way it was before I’d put the helmet on. He smelled fantastic up close, but I’d known that during the movie—like leather and aftershave. I found myself almost wanting to close my eyes as it felt so soothing with his hands in my hair.
I apparently liked it a bit too much, as by the time he was done, he glanced down at me and my stupid ass had just been staring at his lips. He licked them absently as our eyes locked for a single lustful second, then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “There. You’re good.”
“Thanks.” I bit my bottom lip. “Um, see you at The Wolfman?”
Bucky offered his hand. I took it. He surprised me yet again by kissing the back of it and winking at me before he turned to go. “It’s a date.”