7. {Happy Birthday}

Weeks have passed since the mission in Los Angeles, yet the lingering unease between you and Bucky remains as it darkens your interactions. Despite your best efforts to maintain a sense of normalcy, the distance between you only seems to grow with each passing day.

Bucky has taken to avoiding you, his absence in the morning briefings becoming increasingly noticeable. When he does attend, he sits further away, his demeanor distant and detached. More often than not, he is absent altogether, joining the meetings via conference link from some undisclosed location.

As for you, you throw yourself into your work, burying yourself in missions and tasks in an attempt to distract yourself from the agitation brewing within. But no matter how busy you keep yourself, the emptiness persists, a constant reminder of the fractured bond between you and Bucky.

But tonight is different. It's your birthday, a rare occasion for celebration amidst the craziness of your lives as Avengers. And despite the strained dynamics between you and Barnes, Natasha has insisted on throwing you a small gathering to mark the occasion.

Now, as you stand in Natasha's room, surrounded by an array of dresses and makeup, you can't help but feel a flicker of excitement amidst the uncertainty of the evening ahead.

Natasha flashes you a warm smile as she hands you a dress, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think this one will suit you perfectly," she says, her tone playful yet reassuring.

You glance down at the dress, a shimmering fabric that catches the light in all the right places. With a nod of gratitude, you begin to slip into the dress, the soft fabric hugging you in all the right places.

"So, plans for tonight, just so I'm prepared," Natasha begins, her focus fixed on her mirror as she meticulously applies a coat of crimson lipstick. "How much of a blur are you aiming for?" She smiles mischievously through the reflection, her gaze locking with yours as you settle into a chair, adjusting a pair of elegant heels.

"Well, I'm thinking somewhere between 'an unforgettable night' and 'completely forgetting my own name'," you reply with a grin, matching her playful tone. "But let's see where the night takes us."

Natasha lets out a melodious laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sounds like a plan," she says, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "But just remember, it's your birthday, so feel free to make a scene if the mood strikes you."

With a playful wink, she finishes applying her lipstick and turns to face you, her gaze appraising your appearance with an approving nod. "You clean up nicely, Y/N," she remarks, her tone genuine. "Bucky won't know what hit him."

Your eyes roll at the mention of Bucky, a hint of exasperation tempered by a playful smile. "That's assuming Barnes graces us with his presence... He's been MIA from the compound for days," you remark, moving to crouch beside Natasha, your fingers delicately selecting a pair of earrings to adorn your ensemble.

"What happened between you two back in LA? I thought you were both reveling in your fucked up warfare together," Natasha inquires, her smirk lingering as she turns to you, her gaze probing for answers.

You pause, the memory of that night in Los Angeles. "It's... complicated," you begin, your voice trailing off as you search for the right words to convey the events that had unfolded between you and Bucky.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Complicated? That's a new one," she remarks, her tone laced with amusement. "Care to elaborate?"

"I may have overreacted and I may have almost cost the mission..." Your eyes momentarily shift away, a shadow of regret passing over your features, before you straighten up and stride over to your purse, gathering your essentials for the night.

"Overreacted, how, Y/N?" Natasha's gaze follows your movements around the room, her amusement still evident as she awaits your explanation.

You sigh, knowing that Natasha won't let you off the hook until you spill. "I may have seen Bucky getting a little too friendly with someone at the event," you admit reluctantly, the memory still fresh in your mind. "And I may have caused a bit of a scene."

Natasha's smile broadens at the revelation, her demeanor exuding a relaxed grace as she gracefully ascends from her seat. "Ah, so the green-eyed monster paid you a visit because your plaything wasn't giving you all the attention," she jests, her voice carrying a playful yet discerning edge, eliciting a wide-eyed reaction from you at the candid observation.

"Nat! He's not my damn plaything!" You retort sharply, dismissing the insinuation of jealousy.

"Oh? So he more than just that then?" Natasha's teasing persists, her knowing smile betraying her intention to provoke a reaction. You hesitate, uncertain of how to respond accurately.

She observes the inner conflict reflected in your expression, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she shakes her head in amusement. Picking up both purses, she offers yours to you, signaling that it's time to depart. "Listen, all I'll say is this: jealousy, as you're well aware, can be quite the motivator..." Natasha maintains her smirk as she strides toward the door, swinging it open. "It's your birthday, after all, Y/N. So go ahead and get what you want... I have no doubt you've got one last prank or two up your sleeve, where Barnes is concerned."

You take a moment to process Natasha's words, feeling a mixture of amusement and apprehension swirling within you. She always had a way of cutting through the bullshit and getting straight to the heart of the matter.

As you take Natasha's outstretched hand, you can't help but let out a soft chuckle at her suggestion. "I suppose you have a point," you concede, amusement flickering in your eyes. "After all, what's a birthday without a little mischief?"

Natasha grins in response, clearly pleased with herself for planting the idea in your mind. "Exactly," she says, her tone laced with satisfaction. "Just remember to keep it light-hearted. We don't need any more drama tonight."

You nod in agreement, the weight of her words sinking in. "Got it," you say, determination coursing through you. "But that doesn't mean I won't have a little fun with Barnes."

With that, you step out into the hallway, feeling a renewed sense of excitement for the evening ahead. Whatever challenges may arise, you know that you'll face them with courage and resilience, guided by the unwavering support and sage advice of friends like Natasha by your side.

***

As you and the team arrive at the bustling nightclub, the pulsating beats of music reverberate from inside, setting the scene for a night of celebration.

You glance around, taking in the sight of your teammates mingling and laughing outside, the energy of the night infectious. However, one notable absence stands out—Bucky. Despite your best efforts to push aside the lingering disappointment, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness at his absence with added frustration. It's a stark reminder of the fractured bond between you, a testament to the unresolved situation you both find yourself in.

As Sam and Tony engage in conversation with the bouncers, negotiating a fast-track entry for the group, you resign yourself to the fact that Bucky may not be joining you for your birthday celebration after all. But just as you're about to reconcile yourself to the idea, a familiar figure emerges from the crowd outside, causing your heart to skip a beat. It's Bucky, striding confidently toward the group with a determined expression on his face. 

You blink in surprise, momentarily stunned by his unexpected appearance. The rest of the Avengers seem equally taken aback, their expressions ranging from curiosity to relief at seeing him.

"What time do you call this, Barnes!" Natasha exclaims, her tone laced with playful reproach, already displaying the effects of her indulgence in alcohol as she stands between Clint and Steve, eliciting a hearty laugh from the pair.

Bucky offers a sheepish grin in response to Natasha's playful jab, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Fashionably late, as always," he quips, his voice carrying a hint of self-deprecation. Despite the casual banter, there's that underlying tension that is always in the air where you two are concerned.

You watch Bucky's interaction with the rest of the team from a distance, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. Part of you is relieved to see him here, to know that he hasn't completely abandoned you on your birthday. But another part—a more guarded, cautious part—remains wary of his sudden appearance, unsure of what it signifies for the fragile state of your relationship.

As Bucky's gaze flickers in your direction, you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed, vulnerable. In that silent exchange, there exists an unspoken understanding, a mysterious something lurking within the depths of his eyes that you struggle to decipher.

But before you can dwell on it further, Tony's booming voice interrupts the moment, drawing your attention back to the present. "Alright, now that everyone's here, let's make this a night to remember!" he declares, holding out his arm for you to take, signaling the commencement of your grand entrance.

As the night progresses and the club pulses with energy, you find yourself fully immersed in the vibrant atmosphere, dancing alongside Natasha amidst the pulsating lights and thumping music. The alcohol has dulled your inhibitions, fueling a sense of exhilaration as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the music.

Despite the jovial atmosphere, there's still that  unspoken rift that neither you or Bucky has addressed. The occasional glances exchanged between you, each one a silent plea for understanding in the midst of this confusion.

However, when a pair of guys approach you and Natasha on the dance floor, an idea begins to form in the back of your mind—a risky yet enticing gamble that might just break through the wall of silence between you and Bucky.

As the strangers engage you and Natasha in conversation, their flirtatious banter accompanied by playful smiles and lingering touches, you seize the opportunity to enact your plan. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you play along, reciprocating their advances with a teasing smile and a toss of your hair.

Beside you, Natasha catches on to your scheme, her own grin widening as she joins in the playful charade. Together, you dance and flirt with the strangers, all the while stealing furtive glances in Bucky's direction, gauging his reaction.

Sure enough, as you expected, a flicker of something—jealousy, perhaps—crosses Bucky's features, his gaze darkening as he watches the scene unfold before him. Despite his efforts to remain aloof, you can see that certain emotion brewing beneath the surface, a silent admission he's trying so hard to suppress.

As the song reaches its climax, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your veins, you take a daring leap, signaling to the stranger to lean in for a kiss. With little hesitation, he obliges, and the two of you share a passionate embrace, locking lips amidst the pulsating rhythm of the dance floor, drawing the attention of onlookers. Natasha's enthusiastic cheers amplify the spectacle, her intent clear: to ensure all eyes, especially Bucky's, are fixed firmly on you.

As the kiss intensifies, you feel a sudden shift in the atmosphere, the tension that electrifies the air. Glancing over the stranger's shoulder, you catch sight of Bucky, his expression dark and stormy, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

In that moment, you realize that your plan has worked perhaps a little too well. Bucky is seething, his usual composed demeanor shattered by the sight of you with another man. And as he strides purposefully toward you, his movements deliberate and controlled, you can practically feel the heat radiating off him.

When he reaches you, he doesn't utter a word. Instead, he simply reaches out and effortlessly lifts you up, hoisting you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Despite yours and Natasha's protests and the bewildered looks from the strangers around you, Bucky remains resolute, his grip firm as he carries you away from the dance floor and the scene you've created.

The sensation of being held so possessively, so unmistakably his, sends a shiver down your spine. And as he carries you through the crowded club, his silent anger vibrating through every muscle, you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with apprehension at the intensity of his reaction.

As Bucky strides through the throngs of dancers, his grip on you unwavering, you catch glimpses of the club's patrons staring in surprise and amusement. Some whisper amongst themselves, while others simply watch with wide-eyed fascination as the scene unfolds.

You struggle against his hold, albeit half-heartedly, knowing deep down that resisting would only fuel his resolve. Instead, you opt for a more diplomatic approach, attempting to reason with him despite the chaos of the club surrounding you.

"Bucky, put me down," you plead, your voice a mixture of frustration and urgency. "You're making a scene."

But Bucky remains silent, his jaw clenched tight as he navigates through the crowd with purposeful strides. His steely gaze is fixed ahead, as if determined to reach some unknown destination, and no amount of protest from you seems to sway his resolve.

As you near the exit, the cacophony of the club begins to fade into the background, replaced by the cool night air and the distant sounds of the city beyond. Bucky shows no signs of slowing down, his grip on you unyielding as he carries you further away from the chaos of the dance floor.

Finally, he comes to a stop just outside the club's entrance, setting you down gently on your feet. His expression remains inscrutable, a mask of carefully controlled emotion that belies the intensity of his actions.

For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you thick. And then, with a heavy sigh, Bucky finally breaks the silence, his voice low and rough with emotion.

"What the fuck was that, Y/N?" he demands, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "You think that was funny?"

You meet Bucky's intense gaze with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. Despite the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the impromptu performance, you can't deny the gravity of the situation now confronting you.

"I was just having a bit of fun," you reply, your tone laced with a hint of defensiveness. "It's not like you were joining me on the dance floor."

Bucky's expression darkens at your retort, his frustration evident as he runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. "So that's your idea of fun? Making a damn spectacle of yourself to get a rise out of me?" he retorts, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"Well, it clearly worked! What does a girl have to fucking do around here to get you to talk to me?" you demand, your expression twisted with escalating fury.

As Bucky's frustration boils over, his eyes flicker with a volatile mix of rage and wounded pride. "You want me to talk? Fine, let's fucking talk!" he snaps, his voice tinged with suppressed emotion. Without hesitation, he seizes your wrist, pulling you away from the club and into the eerie quiet of a nearby street. Retrieving his car keys, he unlocks the passenger side door.

"What the hell are you doing, Barnes?" you protest, your gaze narrowed as you wrench your wrist from his grasp.

"Get in the damn car, sweetheart. We're not doing this out here," he insists with a low growl, leaving you little choice but to comply. You slide into the passenger seat, maintaining your glare as he slams the door shut and strides around to the driver's side. Without a moment's pause to fasten seatbelts, he ignites the engine and accelerates away with a surge of speed.

As the car speeds away from the club, the tension inside the vehicle is almost suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Bucky's hands grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his jaw clenched tight as he navigates the darkened streets with a sense of urgency.

You watch him from the passenger seat, your own anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You can't just drag me into a car and expect me to go along with whatever you have planned, Bucky," you protest, your voice laced with frustration.

Bucky's grip on the wheel tightens even further at your words, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. "I'm not asking for your permission, Y/N," he replies curtly, his voice clipped. "I'm trying to have a damn conversation with you."

"A conversation?" you scoff, incredulous at his sudden insistence on communication. "You could have fooled me with the way you've been avoiding me lately."

Bucky's jaw tightens at your accusation, a flicker of guilt passing across his features. "I haven't been avoiding you," he argues, his tone defensive. "I've just... had a lot on my mind."

"A lot on your mind?" you echo, your voice rising with frustration. "That's your excuse?" 

The tension in the car reaches a fever pitch, each word exchanged fueling the flames of an argument that threatens to consume you both. Bucky's knuckles tighten further onto the wheel, his jaw clenched in frustration. "What choice did we have, Y/N?" he snaps, his voice raw with emotion. "We're tearing each other apart, and for what? Some twisted version of friendship that neither of us even fucking understands anymore?"

Anger surges through you like a tidal wave, your voice rising to match his intensity. "Don't you dare blame this on me, Barnes!" you seethe, your words dripping with venom. 

"You're the one who fucking started all this, Y/N!" Bucky's voice rises to meet yours, his gaze locking fiercely with yours as the car hurtles through the streets, drawing closer to the compound.

The air crackles as the car speeds onward, each word exchanged like a volley in a heated battle. You feel the weight of Bucky's accusation like a punch to the gut, the truth of his words hitting home with a force that leaves you reeling.

"I may have started whatever the fuck this is," you retort, your voice tinged with disbelief. "But you're the one who's been acting like you can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

Bucky's jaw tightens at your words, his frustration palpable as he struggles to contain his temper. "I asked you if you wanted it to stop, and you said yes." 

"But that didn't mean to fucking avoid me all together!" You scream out these words, anger coming fully to surface. 

"Avoiding you was the only way to respect your fucking decision, Y/N!" Again, he matches your octave and you keep your gaze steady. 

"Oh, so you ignoring me for weeks is my fault?" you interject, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "God, you're unbelievable, Bucky!  How can you even be pissed off over this, we've never even fucking kissed—"

The car lurches to a stop in the dimly lit undercroft garage of the compound, the engine still running as Bucky turns to face you with a fierce determination burning in his eyes. Without a word, he reaches out, his hand finding purchase on to the nape of your neck as he pulls you close, his breath mingling with yours in the confined space of the car.

And then, in a sudden, desperate surge of emotion, he crashes his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, a whirlwind of fire and longing that ignites every nerve ending in your body. 

Caught off guard by Bucky's sudden movement, you gasp in surprise as his lips crash against yours. The intensity of his kiss is overwhelming. For a moment, you're lost in the sensation, the world outside the car fading into insignificance as you surrender to the heat of the moment.

His hand tightens on the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he can't bear to let you go. With a soft whimper, you melt into his embrace, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him.

Neither of you pulls back; instead, the kiss deepens, an unspoken agreement passing between you as your hands roam each other's bodies, seeking to draw even closer in this intense connection.

Your hands instinctively find their way to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them one by one in a flurry of urgency, the need to feel his skin beneath your fingertips consuming you. Simultaneously, his metal hand wraps around your waist, pulling you effortlessly over to his side of the car and settling you onto his lap. His other hand tangles in your hair, drawing you closer, as if desperate to fuse every inch of your beings together in this heated embrace.

You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue intertwines with yours, the sensation electrifying as your hands explore the contours of his defined torso. Beneath you, you feel the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the bulge growing firmer under your touch, eliciting another throaty moan to escape your lips. 

With a swift yet purposeful movement, he shifts both hands to hike up your dress, pressing them firmly against the curves of your ass. A slight gasp escapes your lips as you feel his touch, the sensation sending tingles coursing through your body. His fingers deftly tease the fabric of your underwear, eliciting a low growl of desire from him as he revels in the intimacy of the moment.

"Tonight, of all nights, you opt for underwear?" he murmurs provocatively against your lips, a sly smirk gracing his own as his voice carries a hint of playful reproach at your decision. With a swift motion of his metal hand, you feel the delicate lace of your underwear being deftly torn away, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as you're caught off guard by the sudden sensation.

There's a primal hunger in Bucky's gaze as he looks at you, a hunger that mirrors your own desire. Without a word, he guides your hand to the bulge in his pants, a silent invitation for you to explore the depths of his longing.

As your fingers graze over his hardness, a low groan escapes his lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. Bucky's breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling with each exhale. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into yours, conveying a silent plea for more.

"We have perfectly good beds upstairs..." you remind him teasingly, pulling back momentarily to arch a playful brow, your hand still tantalizingly working its magic between the fabric of his jeans, eliciting that familiar warmth between your own legs.

Bucky's lips curl into a knowing smile at your playful suggestion, his eyes smoldering with desire as he meets your gaze. "True," he concedes, his voice husky with longing. "But I need you now, doll..."

With a deft movement, he frees himself from the confines of his pants, his arousal standing proud and without hesitation, he leans back in to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. Your hands roam his body with a newfound boldness, exploring every inch of him as if committing his form to memory.

Using his hands, he lifts you up slightly to line himself perfectly with you and with a shared breathless gasp, he enters you slowly, inch by inch, the sensation of him filling you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

"Fuck..." He hisses at the feel, his mouth still on yours. 

As you wrap your arms around Bucky's neck, pulling him closer, his hands grip your hips firmly as he sets a rhythm, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sensation of him inside you is intoxicating. 

Amidst the ecstasy, breathless gasps escape your lips, mingling with Bucky's own ragged moans of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a fervent prayer.

"God, Y/N," he grunts, his voice strained with pleasure as he drives into you with increasing urgency.

You respond with a throaty moan, your nails digging into his back as you hold onto him desperately, urging him on.

His movements become more frenzied, his hips driving against yours with relentless force. "You feel so fucking good," he growls, his breath hot against your ear.

"Harder, Bucky," you gasp, your voice a mixture of urgency and need.

With a primal growl, he complies, his movements growing more urgent as he drives you both towards the brink of ecstasy.

You whimper, the intensity of your desire driving you to the edge. "Don't stop, Bucky."

With a primal growl, Bucky complies, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he drives you both towards the edge. "Fuck, I can't get enough of you," he pants, his voice thick with desire.

"God, Bucky, don't stop," you moan, your voice a mixture of urgency and ecstasy. "I'm so close..."

Bucky's grip on your hips tightens as he picks up the pace, his own breathing labored. "I'm not stopping until you're screaming my name, Y/N," he rasps, his words driving you closer to the brink.

You cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure courses through your body. "Bucky, I'm... I'm..." you gasp, unable to form coherent words.

"I want to feel you come apart in my arms," Bucky whispers, his voice husky with desire as he presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

You nod frantically, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. "Yes, Bucky, please," you plead, your voice barely more than a desperate whimper.

With a final, powerful thrust, Bucky sends you spiraling over the edge, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you cry out his name. As you shudder with the force of your release, you feel Bucky reach his own peak, his body trembling against yours as he finds his own release.

As the haze of passion begins to dissipate, you find yourselves entangled in a tangle of limbs, the air thick with the heady aftermath of your intense encounter. Bucky's breath is ragged against your skin, his grip on you still firm as he holds you close, the remnants of desire lingering between you.

Without a word, Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his breathing slowly steadying as he tries to regain control of his senses. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, intense and searching, as if he's trying to decipher the emotions swirling within him.

Your own thoughts are a whirlwind, a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty as you try to make sense of what just happened between you. The passion that ignited between you was undeniable, but what does it mean for the fragile balance of your relationship?

Before you can dwell on it further, Bucky's voice breaks the silence, his tone husky yet tinged with vulnerability. "I didn't mean for things to go this far, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't deny how much I want you."

As Bucky's words hang in the air, a sudden interruption breaks the fragile moment. The engine of the car sputters and dies, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet undercroft garage. You both startle, the abrupt noise jolting you back to reality.

Then, the unmistakable sound of the car door unlocking cuts through the silence, causing you both to tense. From the other side of the garage, you hear the unmistakable throat-clearing of someone approaching. Your heart sinks as you realize you've been caught.

Stepping into view, Tony Stark appears, accompanied by a noticeably tipsy Natasha Romanoff. Their eyes widen in surprise as they take in the scene before them, Natasha's grin widening mischievously while Tony's expression is something neither of you can quite read.

"I just had this car detailed... Seriously, Barnes? Y/N?" He deadpans, his expression not entirely impressed, but a glint of amusement dances in his eyes as he realizes he's caught you both in the act.

"It's not what it looks like..." Bucky offers lamely, uncertain of what else to say as you shift awkwardly on his lap, avoiding Tony's gaze, allowing your eyes to settle on your friend Natasha.

Natasha's grin widens mischievously as she takes in the scene, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events. "Oh, I don't know, it looks pretty much like what it looks like," she quips, her tone playful as she winks at you.

Bucky shoots Natasha a pleading look, silently urging her to go easy on the both of you. Meanwhile, Tony leans against the car door, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the scene with a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation.

"Looks like Barnes decided to give you the best birthday present of the night, Y/N."

"Nat, come on," he protests weakly, shooting her a reproachful look, though there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Tony, on the other hand, shakes his head with a bemused expression, unable to suppress a chuckle at the situation. "Well, I hope you two at least enjoyed the ride," he quips, unable to resist the opportunity for a pun, earning an eye roll from you and a snort of laughter from Natasha.

"Seriously, Tony?" You look to the duo, exasperated, still sat in a precarious position within the vehicle, "I expect the remarks from Natasha, but you?" 

"Come on, Tony," Natasha continues, her tone light but with an edge of mischief. "Let's give them some privacy. Clearly, they have some things they need to... discuss."

Tony raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he glances between you and Bucky. "Alright, alright," he concedes, his tone amused but indulgent. "We'll leave you two lovebirds to it."

"Happy Birthday, Y/N!" Natasha calls out as they walk away adding a playful wink in your direction. She hooks her arm through Tony's, leading him away from the garage with a knowing grin. Left alone once again, you and Bucky exchange a glance, as you both struggle to find the right words to break the awkward silence.