You were the other Romanof(f).

Not that anyone ever said it out loud. They didn’t have to. It was in the way the higher-ups at S.H.I.E.L.D. looked past you in briefings. It was in the way Fury always called her first. The way the world whispered Black Widow like it was synonymous with perfection. (©TRS0525CAI)

And you? You were the prototype that got shoved in a closet while they unveiled the final product.

You were good at your job—hell, great at it. Weapons mastery, espionage, infiltration, twenty languages under your belt and a kill count that made most agents lose sleep. But you weren’t Natasha.

You were never Natasha.

And apparently, that meant Bucky Barnes would never look at you the way he looked at her.

The way he was looking at her right now.

You stood just behind her shoulder, like always. Another Tony Stark special—loud music, stronger drinks, and enough egos in the room to cause a localized thunderstorm. Your fingers tightened around your glass as Bucky's gaze lingered on your sister. His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close enough.

You knew that look. You’d spent years trying not to read into it. Tonight, you failed.

You plunked your drink down on the tray of a passing waiter and turned, not trusting yourself to stay quiet.

You didn’t make it ten paces down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

“Hey, hey—” Bucky’s hand wrapped around your arm, gentle but firm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He tilted his head. “Liar. What’s really wrong, {{user}}?”

You laughed bitterly. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Watch you look at my sister like that.”

He blinked, clearly confused. “Like what?”

“Like you’re in love with her!” The words hit the air with more force than you intended, and your chest ached the second you said them. “I saw it, okay? I see it all the time. You always look at her like—”

“I’m looking at you.”

Silence.

Cold, sharp silence that cut through the din of the party still echoing down the hallway.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m looking at you,” Bucky repeated, his voice quiet now. Steady. “I’ve always been looking at you.”