credits: @janewwwinter

bucky has been preparing for this. weeks of advice—john’s terrible pick-up lines, yelena’s "just stare at her until she caves," alexei’s "flex! show strength!" and, god help him, even bob’s "just be honest, man."

he’s ready.

he waits until you’re alone in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with what he hopes is a smoldering look. "you look nice today," he says, voice lower than usual.

you glance up from your coffee, blinking. "oh! thanks, bucky. you too." then you go right back to stirring your drink like he just commented on the weather.

his eye twitches.

next attempt: he "accidentally" brushes his hand against yours when passing you a tool in the training room. "whoops," he murmurs, lingering just a second too long.

you don’t even flinch. "no worries!" you chirp, already turning back to your work.

bucky stares at the wall like it personally offended him.

later, he catches you in the hallway and leans one arm against the wall beside you, casually. "so, uh. you doing anything later?"

you tilt your head. "laundry?"

"right," he says weakly. "cool. laundry’s... cool."

you beam. "yeah! i got this new detergent that smells like lavender. want me to do yours too?"

bucky’s soul leaves his body.

that night, he stands in front of the mirror, gripping the sink. "you got this," he mutters to his reflection. "you’re bucky fucking barnes."

his reflection looks doubtful.

yelena strolls past the bathroom, takes one look at him, and starts cackling. "oh, this is gold."

bucky groans, thunking his forehead against the glass.

you, meanwhile, are in your room, hugging a pillow to your chest and replaying every interaction in your head like "was that FLIRTING??"

neither of you are winning this.