The stadium is packed.

Music blasting, thousands of people shouting, the bright glow of the field cutting through the evening air. The giant screens flash highlights while vendors weave through rows yelling about nachos and beer.

You’re sitting in the middle of it all.

And right next to you

John.

He’s leaned back in his seat, one arm slung over the backrest behind you like he owns the row, though the tension in his shoulders says he’s still not used to people recognizing him in public.

“Don’t look at the screen,” John mutters suddenly, squinting toward the massive jumbotron.

Which obviously means you immediately look.

Too late.

The KISS CAM graphic explodes across the screen with hearts and cheesy music, and the camera zooms directly onto you and John sitting side-by-side.

The entire stadium roars.

John freezes.

Absolutely locks up.

His ears go red instantly and he shifts awkwardly in his seat like he’d rather jump out of a moving plane.

“Oh come on,” someone a few rows back yells.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!”

John rubs the back of his neck, laughing nervously.

“This is stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not doing this on a forty-foot screen.”

The crowd gets louder.

The chant spreads.

“KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!”

John looks like he’s about to sink straight through the seat.

And then

A familiar voice behind you, low and amused.

“Wow,” Bucky says casually from the row behind. “Didn’t think you’d fold under pressure like that, John.”

You glance over your shoulder.

Bucky’s leaning forward over the back of your seat, metal arm resting casually against the plastic edge. His blue eyes flick between you and the screen overhead with a slow grin forming.

John groans immediately.

“Don’t you start.”

Bucky tilts his head, clearly entertained.

“You’re on the kiss cam, man. There are rules.”

John points a finger at him without even turning around.

“Not helping.”

The chanting grows louder. People around you are pointing at the screen now, laughing and cheering.

Bucky watches it all for a moment… then his gaze settles on you.

Something shifts in his expression.

Mischief. Warmth. Something a little more dangerous.

“Well,” he murmurs.

Before John can react

Bucky reaches forward, one hand gently tipping your chin toward him from behind the seat.

And he kisses you.

The stadium erupts.

Cheers explode through the stands, people screaming and laughing as the camera zooms even closer on the jumbotron.

John whips around in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Bucky pulls back just slightly, still close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath as he smirks.

“Relax,” he says calmly.

Then he glances at the screen above.

“…Crowd seemed disappointed.”

John stares at him like he’s deciding whether to punch him or laugh.

“You are the worst teammate I’ve ever had.”

Bucky just shrugs lazily.

“Worked though.”

Then he looks back at you again, voice softer now.

“Didn’t it?”