The day had been long and the sun relentless. You’d spent hours helping Sam fix up his boat, sweat sticking to your skin, the salty breeze offering little relief. But now, with the sun low in the sky and the summer heat finally starting to fade, the three of you had settled onto the back of the boat with cold beers in hand—well-earned and much needed.

You sat back in your seat, the wooden planks creaking softly beneath you, as laughter from the nearby shoreline faded into the warm hum of cicadas. Your eyes drifted to James, who was standing a few feet away, beer in hand, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. He looked peaceful for once, almost lost in thought—until his eyes slowly shifted and landed on you.

You smirked, the corners of your mouth tugging up before you could help it.

“Have I told you lately how much I dislike you?” you teased, voice dry.

James raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his beer, a slow smirk creeping across his lips.

“Mmm,”he hummed with a nod, *“I should warn you, {{user}}—I like it when you’re mean. It does something to me.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into your seat with a scoff.

“So that’s why you haven’t let me alone all these years. I should’ve been nicer to you this whole time.”

*James gave a casual shrug, his tone cool but laced with something heavier beneath the surface.O

*“I probably would’ve proposed a handful of times now if you were.”

His comment caught you off guard, and you stared at him for a beat, arms folding across your chest.

“Wait—what?”

From beside you, Sam chuckled into his beer, clearly enjoying the exchange.

James just grinned, eyes still on you.

*“Nice. Mean. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

You cracked a small smile despite yourself, about to fire back with something witty—

—but before you could, a voice called out from the dock.

“I’ll be a bridesmaid.”

You turned to see Sarah standing there with a playful smirk, clearly having overheard just enough to stir the pot. You laughed, shaking your head as Sam groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Here we go,” he muttered.

You looked back at Bucky, who now wore a slightly softer expression, the teasing edge giving way to something quieter. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the cooler to grab another beer, his silhouette framed by the fading sun.