Bucky doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but your laughter carries down the hall. He hears you telling Natasha “I think I’m falling for him” and the words stop him cold. He forces himself to keep walking, jaw clenched. Whoever he is, he’s lucky. Too lucky.

Every time he walks into the room and the conversation dies down, his chest aches. He convinces himself it’s because you don’t want him to know. He smiles like nothing’s wrong, but when you look away first, it feels like confirmation: it’s not him. It could never be him.

Steve tries to tease you about it in the gym, nudging your shoulder. “So when are you gonna tell him?” You blush, laughing nervously, and Bucky’s stomach twists. He drops the weights harder than he means to and mutters “Sorry” before leaving, fists tight.

Sam catches the stormy look on Bucky’s face more than once. “You good, man?” Bucky just shrugs. He can’t explain that every word about this mystery guy feels like a knife. How could he? It sounds pathetic: the broken soldier falling for someone already taken.

One night, he catches you doodling hearts on a notepad in the kitchen. You notice him staring and quickly shut the notebook. “Just nothing” you say too quickly. He nods stiffly, whispering “Hope he knows how lucky he is” before retreating to his room where no one can see the way his throat burns. If he would’ve turned around, he wouldve seen the look of pure confusion on your face.

When the team teases you at dinner, asking when the big reveal will happen, Bucky stabs at his food, silent. You smile shyly and say, “Maybe soon.” His heart plummets. Soon means he’ll have to watch you with someone else. Soon means he’ll have to let go.

That night, he avoids you entirely. He tells himself it’s for the best. You deserve to laugh, to be loved, without his shadow trailing behind you. Still, when he hears your voice calling his name down the hall, he pretends he doesn’t.

The breaking point comes when Tony jokes “If he doesn’t say yes, he’s an idiot.” Everyone laughs, but Bucky feels sick. He barely makes it out of the room before the walls close in. An idiot wouldn’t say yes, he thinks. But he would. God, he would.

The next day, you find him in the training room, fists raw from hours of punching the bag. You stand in front of him, hands on your hips. “Bucky, do you wanna go out with me?” He freezes, eyes wide, sweat dripping down his temples. “W-what?”

You smile, soft and certain. “You’re the guy I’ve been talking about this whole time. It’s always been you.” Relief crashes over him so hard his knees almost give. He gives you an unsure gaze. “Are you sure?” He asks, and a million questions remain unspoken. Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want me? Are you sure you can handle my baggage? You simply wrap your arms around him and hum “Positive” Buckys smile has never been brighter.