A/N: SO. Instead of writing the next chapter of LAD (which I promise I am going to buckle down and get to very, very soon), I have kind of been writing this enormous three-part AU fic for the last week instead. In my defense, this story has been rattling around in my brain for the last like six months or something ridiculous like that, and although I initially thought it was silly and therefore tried to ignore it... yeah, I totally gave in and wrote the crap out of it lol. So, here we have yet another little side story AU thingy involving Bucky and my OC Summer, and I realize that at this point I have written this couple to death but... they're fun and I can't help it, and you lovely readers seem to like them, so why not? :) So, as I said before, this will have three very long parts and then an epilogue. I have 95% of the main story done already, so it'll all be posted fairly quickly, depending on how many of you like it and how impatient I am lol. I'm going to get back to my usual LAD-writing schedule now, so no worries about that, and I hope that this giant little three-shot thing makes up for missing a week of that story :D Thanks for reading, and my undying thanks to midnightwings96 for always being just the best and helping turn my half-witted ideas into actual writeable things :D Review pretty please and let me know what you all think!


Of all the days Summer could have picked to uncharacteristically run late, she picked a hell of a bad one to wake up a full hour later than she had intended to.

The night before, she had excitedly set her phone alarm and carefully laid out her outfit for the next day, which was something that she never did but, considering how big of a day the next one was, it seemed like the thing to do. But thanks to her phone's suspiciously fickle alarm, rather than peacefully prepare for the day ahead, she found herself rampaging through her tiny bedroom chanting a panicked mantra of "Frick, frick, frick, frick, frick!"

After managing to actually lose the outfit she'd planned on wearing in the process of freaking out, she simply gave up and threw on the most comfortable dress she owned and a pair of flats that wouldn't kill her feet. Then she ate a barely passable breakfast in her kitchen in record time, and with just enough time left to get her books and other supplies ready, she dashed out the door and into her truck.

Then, when she got stuck in morning rush hour traffic almost immediately after getting on the interstate, she dropped her head against the steering wheel and cursed the fact that she was no longer in her old small town. This was the city, and a pretty big one at that, and she hated it already.

Then a car behind her honked, and she looked up to find traffic moving again and leaving her in the dust. "Frick frick frick!"

Thankfully, however, she showed up to her destination with just enough time to spare. After finding somewhere to park, nearly an ordeal all its own, she grabbed her things and power-walked straight into one of the sprawling, intimidating, expensive buildings that would be more or less her home for at least the next two years.

"Yay," she muttered under her breath, eyeing the other students making their way inside and already feeling slightly out of place as she fell into step with them.

Reaching into her bag and grabbing her schedule, she double-checked it for the hundredth time just to make sure that she was heading to the right class first. Having been anxious enough in advance to pay extra close attention to where everything was during orientation, she thankfully knew exactly where she was going, and she got there with exactly three minutes left on the clock.

Summer wasted no time in letting herself get all wide-eyed at how much bigger and more crowded everything was compared to what she was used to, focusing instead on finding the emptiest section of seats that she could spot. Once she found one that was isolated enough for her liking, towards the very back of the lecture hall, she made a beeline for it and sighed in relief the minute she was seated.

But she didn't have time to even grab her pen out of her bag before two fellow students suddenly appeared out of nowhere and sat on either side of her. Summer looked up and eyed the girl on her left, dark-haired and wearing a gray hat over her long dark hair, then the man on her left, clearly foreign and rather handsome and flashing her a bright smile as if they were already friends. She smiled back, then looked down and let out an already-tired breath.

It wasn't that she was antisocial. She just didn't know why these two had picked her little corner out of all the other ones available.

"Okay," the girl on her right said, slapping her textbook down and announcing, "I am ready to begin my torture." She then glanced at Summer and said, "I'm Darcy, by the way."

"Summer," she smiled back.

"That's Esteban," Darcy gestured to the man on Summer's left, who looked up and winked with a distinctly sassy flair. "Very Spanish, very hot and very gay. Don't bother trying to convince him to go straight for a night, already tried."

"Your efforts were appreciated," he replied without missing a beat.

"Um... okay," Summer smiled, deciding that maybe these two weren't so bad after all. "Do you guys always sit uncomfortably close to new students or is it just my lucky day?"

Esteban laughed and replied, "Oh, no, we're in this section for the same reason you are."

"... Because it was empty?" Summer guessed dumbly.

"Oh, so you like to play innocent," Darcy grinned. "It's okay, you can admit that you chose the seat with the best view of Professor Hottie McGrumpypants."

Now Summer was well and truly lost. "Um..."

Darcy looked at her and then blinked, shaking her head. "Wait. Are you a freshmen?"

"Well, not exactly," she explained, immediately launching into a ramble. "I'm 24. I just transferred here after a couple years at a community college, because I had some family issues to take care of after high school, so technically I've gotten a lot done already and -"

"Okay, well, either way, that means you have no idea what you're in for."

"No idea," Esteban nodded. "Poor girl."

Summer looked at them both in sudden concern. "... No idea about what?"

Darcy took a deep breath, clearly enjoying filling in a new and unsuspecting student on the apparent hell they were about to experience together. "Okay, so, the professor - who is four minutes late to his own class, by the way - is this famously angry and very irritable but ridiculously hot guy who's like only thirty four years old -"

"Thirty two," Esteban corrected her.

"Right, thirty two, and like I said, he's like gorgeous -"

"Like James Dean but angrier," Esteban said dreamily.

"Basically," Darcy agreed, "and everybody hates this class."

Summer's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because he's kind of a dick," Darcy replied. "He kicked my friend Ian out of this very class last semester and cussed him out in Russian until he left."

"So he's... angry and mean but... young and... hot?" Summer surmised.

"Pretty much," Darcy nodded. "And he's ex-Army. We've heard a lot about him and seen him walking around but this is our first time experiencing it ourselves. If he would actually get here and start the class."

"What do you want to bet he's having breakfast with the scary psych professor?" Esteban said suggestively, using finger quotes.

"... Who?" Summer asked helplessly, but when Darcy began to answer, the door opened and every student present immediately fell completely silent. Apparently, the professor really did have a reputation.

Unable to hold back her curiosity, Summer cast her eyes towards the doorway and wondered if this guy was really all Darcy had cracked him up to be. Being former military, she imagined a big, bulky guy with a buzzcut walking in with a strict, non-blinking look on his stoic face, but her mental picture ended up being rather far off.

Instead, in walked a man who lived up entirely to Darcy's descriptions and exceeded them. He was tall but not overly so, dark hair short and brushed back on his head, and blue eyes that were clear and striking even behind his black-rimmed glasses and from as far away as Summer was. He was dressed in a gray suit and blue tie, but as he walked in and surveyed the still-silent students with a distinct air of being unimpressed - and, she couldn't help but notice, a very strong jawline - he shed the jacket and dropped it on the chair behind his desk. She wondered why he bothered to wear it at all, and if it was wrong for her to be totally okay with the idea of him just casually taking more off.

Then his eyes moved her way, and she realized that she was staring at him quite openly and chewing on the back of her pen. She looked away the very second their eyes met and dropped the pen, which proceeded to clatter noisily to the floor, and she quickly leaned down to pick it up as her face burst into an instant blush.

By the time she straightened up, she had hoped that he was looking somewhere else, but he wasn't. She stared down at her hands, avoiding his intimidating gaze and hoping to God that he didn't automatically, and inexplicably, hate her now.

Stupid pen dropping idiot, she mentally cursed. Then Darcy gave her the thumbs up and mouthed smooth, and Summer groaned silently and refused to look up again.

At least until he spoke.

"Morning," he said simply, and Summer's eyes darted back up all on their own. He was looking elsewhere now, at all the other students, and she felt safe enough to stare at him again, at least for another moment or two. "Sorry to keep you guys waiting."

Darcy and Esteban leaned closer to Summer, though it was so they could talk to each other rather than her. "He doesn't look that angry today," Darcy whispered.

"He looks delicious today," Esteban replied.

"He totally knows. Why else would he walk in and stare at us while he took his jacket off?"

"I don't know," Esteban replied with a sigh, "but I'm not complaining."

They then shut up and backed up some, to Summer's relief, when the professor looked their way again. He leaned back against his desk, hands lightly gripping the edge of it behind him, and he said in a slight monotone that gave away how often he had to give this speech, "My name is James Barnes. You can all call me 'Professor'. If anybody has a question, now's the time to ask it."

Short and to the point, but not exactly unkind, Summer noted. He didn't seem all that scary yet. She looked around at the other students, and the first to ask a question was a girl near the front of the class.

"What languages do you speak?" came the slightly-terrified sounding voice, and Summer looked back at the professor to hear his answer.

"Besides English, German, Russian, and Arabic."

Again, short and sweet. Maybe he just wasn't overly talky, and that's why everybody thought he was constantly angry?

Next he pointed at a guy in one of the middle rows, who asked, "Is it true that you were in the Army?"

Even from where Summer sat, she could see the very subtle but instant tightening of his jaw, the immediate tensing that came with the question. He kept his expression neutral and replied, "Yeah. Anything else?"

"How'd you end up here?" the guy asked with a slight laugh.

"I left the Army," the professor answered simply, though his annoyance was starting to show on his face. "Anything else?"

"Well... I mean, you said you speak Arabic, so doesn't it bother you? Teaching the language those bastards over there speak?"

The entire room fell silent once again, so eerily quiet that if Summer had dropped her pen again, it might have sounded like drum banging.

"What's your name?" the professor asked calmly, pushing off of the desk and stepping closer towards the students.

"Mike," the guy replied. "Mike Stewart."

He nodded, then said, "Well, to answer your question, Mike, no, it doesn't bother me, because those bastards, as you call them, are people. Some are good, some are bad. No different from us."

Summer noticed how his right hand tugged at his left sleeve as he said this, almost like a nervous habit, and he continued to do this as the Mike kid continued to dig his own grave.

"Yeah, but like... see, my cousin served in Iraq, and he said they're all ignorant, like, cavemen and that we wasted our time over there."

Summer cringed, pretty sure that if this teacher was as scary as Darcy and Esteban claimed, she was about to witness the proof. Still fiddling with his sleeve, he nodded and then turned suddenly narrowed eyes on Mike. "Well, nobody likes to waste their time, so why don't you stop wasting mine and get out of my class."

Summer's widening eyes, and those of every other student, went to Mike, who sat there and stared dumbly rather than either try to argue or just obey.

"Get out," the professor repeated, "and come back when you've learned some damn respect."

The entire class then watched as the kid scrambled up to his feet and grabbed his books before bolting for the door. Meanwhile, the professor merely turned his back and strolled behind his desk, the Q&A portion of the class apparently over.

Summer didn't realize that she was actually smiling a little until Darcy and Esteban leaned back in to start whispering to each other again.

"Okay, that kid totally had it coming," Darcy said.

"That was Mike Mike, the one who called me a 'queen' last semester. As if that's a bad thing or something."

"Oh my God, you're right! Ugh, that kid just gets worse and worse."

Summer was just about to ask these highly entertaining but mildly annoying people at her side to please quiet down for her sake, but a far more intimidating voice from the desk below beat her to it.

"Anyone who can't shut up and focus can get out now too."

Summer froze and gulped when she looked up and realized that he was looking at her as he said this, as if it had been her whispering all this time. Darcy and Esteban leaned back again, nodding and suppressing grins as they shut up and obediently looked down at their textbooks. Summer's face was burning again, but thankfully his gaze didn't stay on her long this time before he moved on.

She calmed down once he started talking again, this time starting the real class. Scanning the faces before him, he asked, "How many of you are taking an introductory Linguistics class because you actually want to, not because you have to?"

Darcy's hand went up, as did a sizable minority of the class. Summer's was the last to go up, hoping she'd draw less attention to herself that way, and she put it down as quickly as possible.

He nodded. "Then you probably know I'm not here to teach you specific languages. I'm here to teach you how language itself works, or at least get you started on that."

Summer tried to listen carefully as he went on, but Darcy and Esteban were talking again, despite the scolding they'd gotten only a moment before.

"He just needs to get laid," Darcy whispered.

"I volunteer for this," Esteban whispered back. "I will, how do you Americans say, take one for the team."

Summer started chewing on her pen again, unable to focus on a damn thing, and it wasn't even because of the two people arguing quietly over who would be better qualified to relieve the teacher of his apparent stress. It was mainly due to the casual, knowledgable way that said teacher spoke of language and its various basic pillars while he undid the blue tie around his neck and then tossed it on top of his jacket. Summer's eyes were glued to his fingers as he unbuttoned the top button of his white shirt, Darcy helpfully voicing her thoughts so she didn't have to.

"What is this? Is he actually stripping? Holy shit, I wasn't prepared for this."

Neither was Summer. She was only just starting her first class at university, but she felt a long way from home now and entirely too distracted for her own good.

"Are all the professors this hot?" Summer whispered to Darcy, unable to keep the question to herself. "Because if they are, I'm in trouble."

"Just wait till you see one of the history teachers," she whispered back with a grin. "And the scary psych professor Esteban was talking about. What are your other classes?"

"Psych 101," Summer replied. "U.S. History, 1865 to today, and -"

Darcy choked on nothing. "I'm in the same psych class. I took the same history class last semester, and yeah, that professor is his best friend," she gestured to their current teacher. "We call him Captain America."

"Why?"

"Oh, you'll see," Darcy assured her. "Now hush before we get kicked out next."

Summer groaned silently but didn't say another word for the rest of the class, too busy wondering what the hell kind of college this even was and replaying the tie-removal in her head more than was acceptable even to her, chewing her poor pen all the while.

She had the feeling it was the first of many pens that would meet an untimely demise, and she blamed the professor she'd be seeing a whole lot more of in the foreseeable future.


After narrowly surviving her first full-fledged university class and scurrying out of it with all the dignity of a bewildered mouse when it was over, Summer had a short break and then was soon on her way to tackle her next class, which was U.S. history. She happened to run into a now-familiar face just outside of the lecture hall, and Esteban was all too happy to invite her to sit next to him and a few of his other friends as she experienced the exact polar opposite of the previous class.

Unlike the undeniably pretty but grumpy Professor Barnes, the man that walked in five minutes early into the class was blonde, cheerful, and a veritable ray of sunshine as he looked out among his pupils and smiled like he was genuinely happy to see them.

"Behold," Esteban leaned over and whispered, "Captain America himself."

Well, he did have a little American flag on his desk.

The two class experiences were a night and day difference, and even the hall was brighter thanks to the different positioning and better sunlight that filtered inside. Professor Steve Rogers - or "Professor Steve" as he happily instructed the class to call him - was young and tall and huge and dressed kind of like an old man, and he was even easier to spot as being former military in the way that he spoke and carried himself. He was friendly but strict, and Summer got the feeling that he could be terrifying if he wanted to be.

He was also ridiculously pretty himself, and Summer wondered how anyone ever focused enough to actually get any learning done with all of these weirdly attractive teachers present. But for as young and easy on the eyes as they were, they seemed oddly wise beyond their years and undoubtedly qualified to be there.

And "Professor Steve" was nice enough to go easy on the class during their first week, unlike his purported best friend over in Linguistics, who had assigned an essay due by the next week, to the chagrin of everyone. Summer left history feeling a bit less scattered and slightly more comfortable, but her first day wasn't quite over yet. After lunch and a break almost long enough to make her crave a nap, Summer made the trek to her final class of the day, which she knew was taught by a woman and therefore would surely be less... distracting... than the others.

And so, and freshly charged on a new truckload of caffeine and relieved that the day was almost over, Summer rounded the last corner before reaching her destination, and as she made her way to the correct door, she spotted none other than "Hottie McGrumpypants" himself talking to a petite redhead a short distance up ahead. They were talking amongst themselves and standing close to each other, the woman showing him something on her phone that he apparently found amusing enough to smile at. Summer only realized that she was staring - again - when she was almost to the door, and the professor glanced up and caught her staring. She suppressed a squeak of terror and immediately looked away, barreling through the door and breathing only once she was safe again, definitely not taking note of how different he looked when he actually smiled.

She was scoping where to sit when she noticed the girl from the first class, Darcy, waving her up to where she sat. Finding it hilarious that she kept ending up next to these same people, she accepted the invitation and sat down with a heavy sigh once she made her way there.

"Long first day?" Darcy asked knowingly.

"Yeah, but I just drank twenty four ounces of coffee and I'm good," Summer smiled. "I met 'Captain America'."

"Isn't he great?" Darcy enthused. "I miss that class. Everybody loves him. And he's cute, too."

"I know, I don't get it," Summer replied, digging out a fairly gigantic psychology textbook out of her bag and hauling it down to open in front of her. "Like, I'm trying to scope out the guys here in between actually listening and paying attention, but the professors are distracting me. This place is weird."

"Well, not all the professors are hot," Darcy replied. "You'll eventually get the ones old enough to be your grandpa who aren't distracting at all. Oh, and I'll help you with the guy thing, too. There's a lot of idiots here."

Summer grimaced a little and then quieted down as the door opened, the class officially starting with the entrance of the professor, who ended up being the very same petite redhead that Summer had spotted outside of the hall only moments earlier.

Then she connected the dots. Esteban's comments about "breakfast with the scary psych professor", plus the somewhat cozy way the two teachers had looked outside in the hallway. It made sense now, especially considering how equally attractive this woman was.

She leaned over and whispered, "So her and Professor Barnes are a thing?"

"Seems that way sometimes," Darcy whispered back, "but I doubt he'd be so angry all the time if he was regularly banging that."

Darcy had a point. Summer then watched and listened with full interest as the small but clearly very self-possessed and confident woman introduced herself to the class as Natasha Romanoff, originally from Russia but flawlessly accent-less and seemingly pretty nice in her opening remarks. She also gave the students some time to ask her any questions they had, and Summer didn't detect an ounce of scariness until the third question.

"I know that psych is required for every single degree, but," a girl down near the front said, "I just don't really see why. I mean, I'm not going to be a psychologist or work in the medical field at all, so how am I going to use what I'm learning here in my every day life?"

"That's actually a very good question," the professor acknowledged, straightening up from where she had been leaning against her desk. "I can assure you that no matter what your major is or what your career will be, you can use the information you'll learn here fairly often. Psychology isn't just someone sitting on a couch telling you about how they grew up. It's learning how the mind works, why people do what they do, learning how to accurately read them. There are very few careers in existence where this isn't a useful skill. And it's good to have for every day life, too. Imagine how much easier first dates would be if you know which questions you should really ask. Might save yourself a lot of time and trouble." There was a handful of chuckles, and then she smiled and said, "I'll demonstrate."

Summer then watched as she signaled to the single most overtly frat-boy type male student present to come down, and the guy glanced at a friend and grinned before sharing a high five and getting up.

"Who's that?" Summer whispered, but Darcy merely shrugged.

"He's new, I don't know," Darcy replied as the young man unknowingly walked to his doom.

After sitting down in a seat that the still-smiling professor had so nicely provided him, the guy smiled and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as she nonchalantly strolled around him and asked lightly, "What's your name?"

"Well, my friends call me Johnny," he grinned, and Summer rolled her eyes.

"All right, Johnny. Where are you from?"

"Lived here my whole life," he replied. "My dad and my granddad both graduated from here."

"Oh, a legacy," the professor smiled. "And do you like it here so far?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded. "Gonna join the same frat they were in and get the full college experience."

"Beer kegs and girls?" she asked with a knowing grin.

He chuckled and shrugged, looking down. "Well, yeah, you know how it is. Just like high school, only legal now, and hotter girls."

"Oh, he's a winner," Darcy muttered as a few of the guys in the class laughed their agreements. Summer was starting to suspect that college wasn't going to be all that different from high school, if this was what most of the guys were like.

"Legal?" The professor asked, stopping in front of him and raising an eyebrow. "So you're at least 21. Why start college so late?"

His grin fell and he shrugged. "Aw, you know. Just took some time off, worked a little bit, figured out what I wanted to do with my life."

She nodded thoughtfully. "And what is your major?"

"Accounting."

"Just like your dad?" she guessed, and he nodded. "Hm. Well, I'm sure he'll be disappointed when you drop out before the year is over."

Johnny paused and stared at her in confusion, then smiled and asked, "What?"

"Your primary concern is your own appearance," she pointed out, resuming her slow, intimidating walk around him. "Not just in the physical sense, though that plays a role. But you're mostly concerned with how others perceive you. The only thing in life that you're truly committed to is your own ego."

"But -"

"You told me, your professor, to call you what your friends call you," she pointed out, ignoring his interruption. "But as young and pretty as I am, I am not your friend, and I never will be. I'm sure you've got some degree of charm somewhere, Jonathan - yes, I know your real name - but your charm means nothing to me, and it won't mean anything to the girls you try to chase because you think they're playing hard to get when in reality, they simply aren't interested."

The kid was silent now, staring dumbly as she came to a halt in front of him. "You were pressured into choosing a major you're not interested in by a father who would only pay for college if you attended it on his terms. You want to make him proud, I'm sure, and maybe you will, but you won't be happy. It might seem like a fair trade off now, but it won't in twenty years when you're miserable and trapped in a life you never would have chosen for yourself. Tell me, what are you interested in?"

He opened his mouth but said nothing, and upon dropping her eyes down to his sneakers and carefully taking note of them, she looked up and said, "Those are some cool shoes. I haven't those in the stores. Who designed them?"

"I... me," he muttered.

She smiled. "So you like art. That's good. And judging by the shoes and the the amount of detail in the design, you're good at it, aren't you?" He nodded, and she added, "Your father was right when he undoubtedly said accounting is much more practical than art. But practical isn't always better, is it? And besides, generally speaking, girls like the sensitive artist types a lot more than the idiot frat boys. So there's always that."

As the guy continued to gape, she wrapped up her analysis. "If you want others to like you, you have to like you first. That means being honest and showing respect. Otherwise, all anyone will ever see when they look at you is a miserable coward who let someone else make his choices for him because it was easier. It's your decision. Now, back to your seat, please."

Eyes wide and throughly flabbergasted, Johnny stood up and trudged back to his seat, likely in the midst of an existential crisis of some sort after having been read like a book from just the molecule of information he'd given the professor. The other men in the class stared, likely caught between terror at being in the presence of such a woman and pure, unbridled lust, because well, who could blame them.

"Holy crap," Summer whispered. "What is she, a psychic?"

"That's why everyone's scared of her," Darcy whispered back. "She can tell your entire life story based on what you had for breakfast. And look super hot doing it."

"Now, unless anyone else has any questions," the professor smiled, and Darcy's hand shot up.

"Yeah, can I bring you with me the next time I get a date, because holy crap?"

She laughed. "Well, pay attention to this class, and you won't need my help."

Summer sighed and leaned her chin on her hand. What a glorious, albeit terrifying, creature. Where did this place even find their professors?


The next few weeks went by in a blur caused by the challenges of getting adjusted to a brand new and horribly busy schedule, but Summer managed to stay afloat and eventually get more comfortable in her new classes. When she wasn't at school, she was either working her new part time job at a library in town, doing homework, or sleeping, though the last thing seemed to be more of an afterthought as time went on. But she didn't dislike any of it, and in fact, it was a nice change to constantly be busy and occupied after what the previous years had been like.

She met new people every week and found new friends in Darcy and Esteban, who were very good at drawing her out of her shell and making her feel at ease despite all the new changes in her life. They were funny and way more outgoing than she had a hope of being in such a big, new place, and they even made it a point to drag her out of her apartment on the rare days she had all to herself. She would have been content to sit at home watching Netflix in between stuffing her face and taking naps, but according to them, she needed to get "out there".

Over two weeks following the start of class, it was on one of those precious few days off that Summer found herself driving her two new friends to a place she hadn't been to in a rather long time - a gym. She hoped that the workout gear stuffed in her backpack still fit after she had parked and was following Darcy inside the place, unable to help but ask, "Why am I here again?"

"Because Esteban drags me here every week and now I get to drag you," Darcy stated simply.

"It's true," he added, jumping in front of them to open the front door.

"But what even is 'Zumba'?" Summer asked, slightly afraid of the answer as she stepped inside after Darcy.

"It's super fun," Darcy replied. "Don't even worry about it."

"If you say so," Summer shrugged, looking around the relatively large gym and getting all of a minute to do so before Esteban shoved a guest pass into her hand and then sent her off with Darcy to change in the girl's locker room.

It was as Summer stuffed herself into her old and rather tight workout clothes that she realized that yes, her body had indeed changed a bit over the last few years, and that she sort of looked like she'd borrowed her niece's clothes.

"Okay, are you ready now because... oh my God, Summer," Darcy half-exclaimed after throwing up her hair in a ponytail and glancing at her friend. "Are you wearing stuff from when you were like twelve?!"

"... About twenty, actually," Summer shrugged uneasily, tugging on the fitness tank top that had a built-in bra barely keeping her assets under wraps. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Um, bad? No, not exactly the word I'd use," Darcy replied. "You know, I actually had no idea you had such giant boobs under that conservative stuff you wear to school."

Summer shrugged. "I mean, I just try to be comfortable..."

"Mhm. Whatever. I'm taking you shopping later."

Summer gave her a look. "Oh God, please no. I like my clothes, and I'm not big on showing... things... off, so -"

"Dude, I'm not gonna dress you up like a slut. I'm just saying, you're hot and you should embrace it, that's all. Now I'm gonna go pee, and I'll meet you back outside with Esteban."

"Okay," Summer nodded, working on wrangling her own long dark hair into something manageable on top of her head after Darcy left. She then spent entirely too long trying to adjust her clothes and wondering if the yoga pants she had on looked as ridiculous as her top did before deciding that it really didn't matter and leaving the locker room. Besides, it was a gym. Nobody ever went to the gym dressed to impress someone, or at least normal people didn't.

She headed down the short hallway back towards the front of the gym, and as she again fiddled with her tank top and pulled at it to try to stretch it out, she took a wrong turn and ended up in an entirely different part of the gym. She kept walking, however, looking up at the various doors that she passed, figuring she'd eventually end up back where she began. It was just a gym, after all, and she was pretty sure that even she couldn't get lost in one.

Most of the rooms that she passed were empty, probably normally used for classes or private sessions or who knew what else, but the very last room she happened upon before taking another turn was occupied and the door was slightly open. It was out of mild and very natural curiosity that she threw a halfhearted glance into the room as she passed, but it was for another reason entirely that she stopped, took a step back, and peered into the room for a second time, doing her best to make sure that she wouldn't be seen.

At first, she had thought that she must have been mistaken, but she quickly realized that no, her initial suspicion had been very right. The two men trading punches and grunting with the force of the jabs were none other than two of her professors, and of course, they were the hot ones. That was just how the universe worked now, apparently.

But while she could have stared at them both and been equally impressed by what she saw, her eyes focused on only one of them for the approximately six seconds she spent watching. It was her Linguistics teacher that she was briefly transfixed by, messy-haired and sweaty and clad in a white tank top that clung tightly to his body as it moved with the kind of ease and precision that only came with years of experience. Even more interesting than that, though, was his left arm.

She'd long noticed his habit of sleeve-tugging on that arm, but she had never wondered why he did it. Now she knew why, after catching a glimpse of the many scars and what looked like pretty severe old burn marks that covered most of what she could see of the limb, all the way up to his shoulder. The scars told a story that shocked her with how utterly horrific it must have been, and after realizing that she was not meant to see that and should not be staring at any part of him, she tore her eyes away and forced herself to keep walking. But the glimpse of that arm was burned into her memory already, and after a few moments of wondering, she decided that she didn't want to know how it got that way, which was a good thing, because she likely never would know.

After finding her way back and catching up with her friends, who were warming up and immediately told her to do the same, she started stretching and couldn't help but let her mind drift off. She kept what, or whom, she had seen to herself, and thought not of the arm or the scars but the entire man, and what he had looked like and... sounded like... in that room.

It was entirely unproductive and pointless, and she knew that, but she was only human, and he was pretty delicious, as Esteban liked to say. He could be scary and he often had an intense look in his eye even as he spoke of languages, in different languages which was another problem all of its own, but she found him far more interesting than she did frightening. Aside from when he'd ask her for an answer to a question, of course, which was when sheer terror would overcome her and she would squeak something back that was usually right but still embarrassing due to how she knew she looked and sounded when giving the answer.

She could only imagine how much harder it would be now to cough up the right answers, now that she would forever be picturing him sweaty in a tank top and sparring with his best friend as he asked her questions in class. How very doomed she was.


"Feel better now?" Steve asked, taking a long drink from a water bottle and watching his friend unwrap his hands and take a deep breath.

"Little bit," Bucky replied, glancing at Steve and rolling his eyes. He smiled though, always unable to keep a straight face for very long when it came to Steve.

"Yeah, well, gotta do my part in making sure you don't take out all that anger on your poor students," Steve joked, patting his shoulder as he walked by.

"But they're the reason I'm pissed off half the time," Bucky pointed out, following Steve out of the room.

"Hey, they're not all so bad," Steve replied as they walked down the hallway. "We've got some of the same students, so I know you've got at least a few good ones."

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah, but the good ones are always the quiet ones. The ones that like to talk and ask a million questions are the ones that make me want to punch someone."

Steve chuckled. "Well, still better than our last jobs, that's for sure."

"Yeah." Bucky couldn't argue with that. "Pays better, too."

"Pays a lot better," Steve agreed, leading them into the men's locker room. "In fact, I bet you could even afford now to go out on one of those dates Nat keeps trying to set you up on."

Bucky grimaced, going about finding and changing his clothes on autopilot, "I swear if I get one more text from some girl she talked into asking me out..."

"You say that like its a bad problem to have," Steve laughed quietly. "You should go for it. What's the worst that could happen?"

Bucky gave him the side-eye and replied, "The girl could actually like me."

Steve's eyes widened sarcastically. "God forbid that ever happens."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged, "I just... don't want to date. It's miserable, the forced small talk and then the inevitable 'oh, you were in the Army, why did you leave?' question."

Steve nodded understandingly to that, then looked away for a moment as they both finished changing before adding, "Well, you know, if it helps, Nat says she also knows some girls who wouldn't be all that interested in... talking, if you know what I mean." When all that got him was another glare, Steve added, "I'm just putting it out there. Might help with your... you know... problem."

"And I'm leaving now," Bucky replied evenly, turning and heading back the way they came.

Steve followed him. "I'm sorry, I just -"

"It's fine, I get it," Bucky replied, shrugging his friend off. "I just get sick of talking about it."

"Fair enough. Just trying to help."

As they made their way towards the front of the gym, past the front desk and towards the door, Bucky paused and replied, "Sometimes you help a little too much, Steve."

"Also fair enough," Steve grinned. Then he paused and said, "Oh, I forgot something. I'll be right back."

Bucky nodded, thoughts drifting along with his gaze as Steve left him alone for a few moments. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't want to date, or when he said that doing so was miserable, because it truly was. Getting close to someone after... well, after, wasn't just harder than it had been before. It was damn near impossible, and it also happened to usually be the absolute last thing on his mind. He didn't feel as if he had any dire need for female company, and the problem that Steve had referred to was something he usually opted to simply pretend didn't exist, so as far as he was concerned, all of it was a non-issue.

As he contemplated these things, his eyes eventually drifted over towards the class about to start behind a glass wall not too far away. Maybe Steve had left him there on purpose, so he could get an eyeful of mostly women in tight clothing and perhaps be persuaded into believing that he really did need to let off some steam with one. Bucky rolled his eyes, because if that was the case, Steve needed to try a little harder.

But he did look, and one girl in particular did catch his eye. She was towards the back of the room and therefore closer to where he was than the others, moderately tall and brunette, with the sort of shape that he'd always liked in the past. He couldn't see her face as she bent down, keeping her legs straight as she stretched, then straightening up and leaning one hand on the wall as she lifted up one leg and held it as high as she could without bending it. She got it pretty high, then dropped it back down as if she'd already worn herself out, and he almost cracked a tiny smile in amusement.

Then she shifted to the side a little, but not enough for him to see her face as she leaned back and stretched her arms behind her. It did, however, allow him to see how utterly bursting she was in her top, and it was more than a little eye-catching. After all, he was only human.

But then she straightened up and turned around, and he saw her face and recognized her in an instant. Brows furrowing and eyes tearing away so fast that his corneas nearly imploded, he turned around so she couldn't spot him and figure out who he was and make this even worse than it already was. It just figured that the one girl of all the others present, he'd pick one of his own students to ogle. It was just the kind of luck that he was used to.

Steve soon caught back up with him, and upon noticing the look of mild distress on his face as he stared resolutely out the window and not at her, Steve asked, "Hey, something wrong?"

"Nope," Bucky muttered, immediately heading for the door, forcing himself to not give in to the slight urge to steal one more look, which was certainly not okay by anyone's standards, let alone his.

Now he just had to hope that every time he called on her for an answer in class, he wouldn't think of how high she could stretch her leg or what she looked like in clothes that were the best kind of too small. But he was good at blocking things out and completely ignoring them, so this should be no different. Hopefully.

"Sure you're okay?" Steve asked, undoubtedly noticing the still-horrified and determined look on his friend's face as they got into his car.

"Yep."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

Luckily, Steve left it alone then. Bucky then did his very best to forget the incident entirely, but as usual, it didn't end up being quite as simple as that.


Darcy did indeed end up taking Summer shopping, but rather than go to a store to do this, she took her shopping in Summer's own closet. The result was Darcy unearthing relics that Summer had bought in the past but never actually wore, and Darcy left and went home only after making Summer promise that she would wear the full outfit that she had picked out the following day.

Unable to back away from a promise, Summer begrudgingly put on the cute and still mostly conservative vibrant blue wrap dress that had been in the back of her closet with the tags on for about two years, then a pair of white high heels with black trim that she had worn all of three hours for one day the year prior. It was mainly the heels that she'd fought Darcy on, but according to her, the only way she'd get used to them was if she broke them in and besides, "this is college, it's time to realize that you're hot and dress like it". She wasn't totally sure about that, but at least doing this would keep Darcy off her back and put some of her prior investments to good use.

And so, as she walked into Professor Barnes' class that morning with her feet already hurting a bit and the heels clicking beneath her, she felt relatively good about herself overall for once and felt a little spark of confidence as she noticed heads turning her way. Darcy, already there and in their usual spot, gave her the thumbs up, and Summer grinned at her before glancing to her left to steal one little look at the professor.

He was there early that day, sitting at his desk and reading something on his phone. He glanced up as she walked by and quickly nodded a silent greeting, which was normal for him, and she was in the process of smiling in reply when she tripped over her own feet and ruined her brief moment of confidence. She caught herself before she could face plant to the floor, thankfully, but she did twist the crap out of her ankle and make an embarrassing gasping sound that echoed horribly loudly throughout the hall.

"You okay?" her suddenly concerned professor asked, and she nodded while dying inside and half-limping off to her seat. Her ankle burned and her face burned even more, but she at least managed to not trip again before she ended up sitting next to Darcy.

"I hate you," she muttered to her friend. "I really do."

"I know," Darcy nodded, giving Summer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Then she leaned in closer and whispered, "But guess who watched you walk up here the whole way and stared at your high heels like they wanted to, I don't even know, like... lick them?"

"That stupid Mike guy?" Summer guessed.

"No," Darcy rolled her eyes. "Grumpypants."

Summer stared at her in disbelief before shaking her head and muttering, "Are you high right now?"

Darcy sighed heavily and leaned in even closer. "When you first walked in, he looked at you and got this weird, like, overly serious look on his face and looked away, kinda like he was forcing himself to, you know? Then he looked up again and nodded at you, which was when you kinda... spazzed out. Anyway, so then he watched you the whole way up here, like I said."

Summer was caught between wanting to scream at this information and instantly trying to poke holes in Darcy's story, because there was no way it could be true. She went with the latter. "Why were you watching him so closely?"

Darcy shrugged. "I have no shame in doing my fair share of staring when the urge hits. I just so happened to stare at the right times to notice these things."

Summer scoffed. "I'm sure you're just reading into things too much."

"No, you're right. He was probably staring at you because he was wondering if the shoes come in his size."

Summer half-glared at her, and Darcy glared right back. Summer shook her head and said, "Him and Romanoff are probably a thing. He's not gonna be looking at his students when he's got that to look at."

"And what if they're just really good pals?" Darcy asked. "Would he be looking then?"

"No, because I'm -"

"What?" Darcy interrupted. "You do realize you're hot, right?"

"Okay but even if I was, I'm still a student and he doesn't really seem like the type who would... do that kind of thing," Summer replied.

"Hey, I didn't say he was gonna ask you to stay after class and then ravish you on his desk," Darcy shrugged. "I all I said was that he was looking. And he was."

Summer stayed silent, glancing at the professor in question and then picking up her pen out of her bag, reverting to her usual method of coping with his presence, which was to chew on the pen until it no longer even resembled a writing instrument.

"... Now you're imagining him ravishing you on that desk, aren't you," Darcy asked knowingly.

"I hate you even more," Summer groaned, feeling her face heat up all over again just at those words. Just knowing she had to spend the next hour listening to this man and actually focus on what he was teaching rather than wonder if Darcy was actually right and then let her mind drift to how he'd looked at the gym the day before... oh boy.

She made it through the class without further incident and managed to mostly retain what he taught, but her humiliation for the day wasn't quite over. More came later, just as she was leaving campus for the day and counting down the minutes until she could get home and take off her heels and most likely never wear them again, because ouch.

Headed towards her truck, she circled around the building she'd spent the whole day in and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke coming from somewhere up ahead. She didn't think much of it, but after turning a corner, she heard familiar male voices, one of which sounded particularly exasperated.

"Come on, man, it's my one vice. I don't even hardly drink anymore."

"I know, but I'd rather you have a drink or two here and there than do this. This is gonna kill you someday, Bucky."

Summer kept walking, unable to see the men quite yet, but... Bucky?

"Yeah, maybe if I smoked like a pack a day, but this is my first one today, and it's almost five."

"And that's one step closer you are to lung cancer."

They finally came into view just as Professor Barnes, or apparently "Bucky", sighed and tossed his cigarette on the ground and put it out. "There, happy?"

"Yes, now give me the whole pack, and we're square."

They were standing just outside of one of the exits, neither of them noticing her as she walked by some feet away. She was too busy marveling over how cute she found "Professor Steve" and his seemingly inexplicable nickname for his best friend to notice the wall she was coming up on, so she smacked right into it with a loud and highly surprised "oomph". That got their attention.

As she regained her bearings and mentally cursed herself into infinity, she rubbed her now-hurting face and then glanced over when, for the second time that day, Professor Barnes asked, "You okay?"

She gave him the thumbs up and prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. "Yup. Totally fine. Thanks."

He nodded, both men smiling at her in a cringing sort of way, like they could feel her pain, but the embarrassment of it all was so much worse than the pain of simply walking into a wall. She then gave an odd, slightly jerky wave and then hurried off towards her truck, deciding then and there that Darcy had definitely been wrong, because there was no way that a man like him would ever check a girl like her out.

She would have known that the opposite was true, however, if she had known that as she walked away, Bucky watched her leave in a manner that was obvious enough to earn him a punch on the shoulder from Steve.

"Ow!" he said, turning and glaring at Steve. "The hell was that for?"

Steve merely held up a single finger and said, "Bucky, no."

"No what?"

"She might be cute and she's definitely your type, but she's a student," Steve pointed out. "When I said that maybe you should start dating, I didn't mean -"

"Steve, what the hell are you even talking about?" Bucky asked, playing bewildered quite well. But Steve only gave him a very knowing look, and Bucky knew it was useless to hide anything from him.

"I'm just reminding you of the rules, that's all," Steve replied.

"I know the rules," Bucky muttered. "Calm down, Steve."

"I just don't want you to -"

"Screw this up," Bucky finished for him. "I know. And I won't. So quit worrying. All I did was look."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes just a look is all it takes."

Bucky scoffed. "She's not even like that. She's smart, she pays attention in class. She's serious."

"I know, I've got her too," Steve nodded.

"I assigned an essay the first week of class and everybody hated it," Bucky recalled. "She turned hers in before everybody else and it was the best one. She's really good."

"Yeah, you can tell she's a writer," Steve agreed, eyeing his friend curiously. "You know, this is the first time I've ever heard you actually praise a student."

Bucky merely glared at him again and then opened the door to head back inside. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Hope not," Steve replied casually, following him inside. "Gotta wonder why she walked into that wall, though. Is she that clumsy or was she just that distracted?"

Bucky shook his head. "If you don't drop it, Steve, I'm gonna need my pack of cigarettes back."

Steve grinned and relented. "Fine."


Over time, Summer came to particularly enjoy her job at the library, and not just because it paid well enough that she wasn't starving too badly and was peaceful enough that it was almost a respite from the rest of her schedule. She liked it because it was steady but calm work, and because it was somehow easier to believe that one day there would be books bearing her own name when she was surrounded by multitudes of classic works. Plus, there was the little coffee shop attached to the library that she got a good discount at, and that in itself seemed to justify the job entirely.

Her shift had two hours left on a Friday night when she took a five minute break to grab her latest caffeine fix, chatting with the coffee girl as she fixed the drink behind the counter.

"Then this kid today was so mad that we didn't have a comic book section that his mom had to drag him out crying," Summer chuckled, leaning on the counter casually and not thinking anything of it. It was a slow night, and once she got back from her break, she'd be the only staff remaining until closing.

"Can't blame the kid," the girl replied, sticking the lid on Summer's drink. "What kind of library doesn't carry comics?"

Summer shrugged, straightening up and taking the coffee when it was handed to her. "The kind that would suck enough to hire me," she grinned before taking a drink and turning around, only to choke slightly and stop in her tracks to keep from colliding with literally the last person she expected to be standing in line behind her.

"Oh. Hi, Professor," she half-stammered, eternally glad that she hadn't spilled her coffee on either herself or the man who stared at her in equal surprise before smiling at her greeting.

"Hi," Professor Barnes replied quietly, and Summer tried to maintain eye contact and not scream over the fact that he was wearing a black leather jacket and dark, well-fitted jeans with hair that was just messy enough to be perfect. "Good balance today?"

She smiled and tried not to blush with embarrassment. "Luckily, yeah, I guess so. Doesn't seem to happen often, so..."

He smiled, just slightly, then let his eyes flicker down to her name tag. "You work here?"

She nodded, feeling especially nervous with communicating with him outside of their usual academic, and therefore safe, environment. "Yup, part time, as much as I can. Helps with, you know, not starving."

She then laughed nervously, mentally telling herself to shut up, but he looked mildly amused as he replied, "Yeah, jobs are good for that."

Deciding that this was one of the least impressive conversations she'd had with any man ever, she tried to recover with, "So, what brings you here?"

Though it was fairly obvious thanks to the computer bag he was carrying, he replied, "I come here sometimes to grade papers. Usually in the mornings, but not today."

"Oh," she nodded. "Makes sense. Well, I'll make sure it stays quiet for you. Part of my job," she smiled, feeling herself start rambling. "Even though there's kinda nobody here right now, but... you never know when someone and their screaming kid is gonna show up."

"Yeah... thanks," he nodded, and she stood there smiling like a moron before realizing she was late coming back from her break and that he was kind of waiting to order his damn coffee.

"Anyway, I'll just... uh... get back to work," she chirped, finally getting out of his way and heading back towards the library as he nodded his goodbye. She rolled her eyes and groaned as soon as she was a safe distance away, which was also when she decided to sneak a glance back to him. His back was to her but she could see the coffee girl smiling flirtatiously as she took his order, and her eyes instantly narrowed because she knew the girl had a boyfriend already.

After getting back to work and sending her coworker home, Summer went about her usual pre-closing rituals and tried to simply ignore the fact that her uncomfortably attractive professor was sitting in one of the library's little reading areas and concentratedly working on his laptop, and definitely not sneak any more peeks at him. After all, he had eyes like a hawk - she knew that from class - and the last thing she wanted was for him to catch her staring like some starry-eyed... well... schoolgirl.

She had no idea that he was as frustrated by her presence as she was by his.


She was everywhere, it seemed, and he was starting to think that she was somehow doing this on purpose. It was irrational to think so, of course, but what other explanation was there?

Reading through the past week's assignments with only a fraction of his usual level of focus, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the computer screen in front of him lest they wander to the girl currently putting returned books away on a few shelves within his line of sight. An hour had passed since he'd arrived, and he was only a few papers in, not to mention much more distracted than he was willing to admit.

Normally, in class, she wore her hair down, but here she had her hair up in a loose but mature looking hold on the back of her head, and it gave him a glimpse of the back of her neck that he was certainly not looking at. Similarly, he was not looking at her legs under her pretty white knee-length skirt, nor the tight aqua-blue top she wore framed her shoulders and collarbone in a way that he had definitely not noticed. At least she wasn't wearing those heels again. It was his only saving grace.

Every time she so much as breathed in his direction, he looked away and focused back on the screen, cursing himself more vigorously each time that it happened. She made it hard to look away, though, especially when her clumsiness made an appearance again and he watched her drop an armful of books and carefully bend over to pick them up. He might have thought that she was trying to catch his eye had he not known better.

Before he had managed to make any real progress in the grading process, two hours had gone by and Summer had locked the doors to close the library down. After, she smiled and told him that he could stay a few more minutes, since she had a few final closing procedures to go through, and he thanked her quietly before she nodded and disappeared from his sight.

Giving up on even trying to read anymore, he set his laptop down on the small table in front of him and began shutting it down, mind running amok with a lot more than self-ridicule, though there was a lot of that. Mostly he wondered why he was stupid enough to keep looking at something he knew he could never have, which he believed to be true even if she hadn't been his student. She could have been the girl at the coffee shop, completely available and totally ethical to pursue, but he still would have been all wrong for her and she wouldn't have wanted him anyway.

As if to make his point for him, as his computer screen faded to black, a deafeningly loud crack of thunder sounded seemingly directly above the building, and Bucky jumped and suddenly lost his breath. Heart instantly pounding and mind racing with memories of other very loud and much less naturally-occurring booms, Bucky closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe, mentally telling himself that it had just been thunder and that he was safe now, but regaining his sense of calm wasn't easy. It never was.

It was exhibit A, he was convinced, of why a girl like Summer would never look twice at a man like him.


Summer had been typing on the office computer when the thunder had happened, and she had squeaked in surprise and nearly had a heart attack at the unexpected and horribly loud sound. It had then taken her no time to emerge from the back and all but run to the front of the library, peering out of the glass doors and finding it utterly pouring outside. The sun had long since set, but a long and jagged bolt of lightning lit up the sky before there was another huge crack of thunder, and then the lights overhead flickered several times, further proving the strength of this storm that had struck out of nowhere.

"I wouldn't stand so close to a glass door right now," she heard a familiar voice say behind her. She turned and saw her professor standing there, laptop bag over his shoulder again and ready to leave. "Looks pretty bad out there."

"Yeah," she agreed, taking a few steps away from the doors. Unfortunately, that brought her closer to him, and she felt even less safe about being there than being next to glass during a heavy storm. "Well, um... this kinda... sucks."

He nodded, walking past her and peering out the door himself. She busied herself with checking the radar on her phone, and a moment later she said, "Tornado watch. Yay."

"We should just wait it out," he decided, and Summer instantly wanted to giggle, scream, and cry at the same time, though not necessarily in that order. Sitting inside a closed library alone during a creepy storm with him? Just peachy.

After a few moments of awkward fidgeting on her part and odd silence from him, they ended up mutually deciding to go wait in the reading area, which was mostly free of glass windows and near the center of the building, which made it technically safer than anywhere else. It also meant, however, that Summer had to sit in relatively close proximity to him and, she realized as soon as they were seated, make small talk or something before the awkwardness made her crawl under a table and hide.

He was tugging at his sleeve again, like always, and she was playing absently with the hem of her skirt before she took a breath and said, "So... this is fun."

He glanced up at her and almost smiled, but not quite. "It should blow over fast."

She nodded, wondering how long they could manage to just talk about the weather. "Storms usually do here." When he had nothing to say to that, she got her answer. Switching tactics, she then asked, "So, was my paper one of the ones that you were grading?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"... Could you tell me what I got, or..."

He shook his head, this time smiling a bit more fully. "You'll find out when the rest of the class does."

She smiled and nodded, looking down. "Okay. Well, worth a try, I guess. Can you at least tell me if it was awful? Because I wasn't sure if I really understood everything last week, but..."

"It wasn't awful," he replied, at least giving her that. "I haven't seen anything awful from you."

"Oh, well... thanks," she replied, twisting the ends of her skirt more the longer they spoke.

He nodded, then asked, "Can I ask you a question?" When she nodded in surprise, he asked, "Why are you studying linguistics?"

She blinked, having not really expected that. "Well... I want to be a writer, and that's where I've been told my talent is my whole life, but it doesn't always, you know, pay the bills. Like maybe someday it will - I hope it will - and I've taken some writing classes, but I wanted to study something that I could fall back on for a career but still found interesting. So linguistics seemed like a good fit, since I like words and it's all about language and stuff."

"How do you like it so far?" he asked thoughtfully, seeming genuinely interested in getting her answer.

"I like it a lot," she smiled. "I mean, like I said before, I'm not always sure that I'm totally getting everything, but..."

"You seem to be," he shrugged. "Do you have any questions I could answer for you now?"

She stared at him for a second, feeling slightly like a deer in headlights and a bit put on the spot. "Um... oh man, I know I do but I'm not sure I could really remember anything right now." Not while you're sitting in front of me in a leather jacket looking all perfect and oh God now you're smiling at me.

"That's okay. My door's always open," he replied, smile faint but definitely there.

"Okay," she smiled back, for some reason feeling her cheeks start getting hot in what was undoubtedly a pink blush, and she was busy praying the heat away when there was another sudden, ear-splitting crack of thunder overhead.

She jumped when it happened, but he seemed far more startled than she. His entire body jerked at the sound, and she saw a distinct but very brief flash of panic in his eyes that confused her until he seemed to regain his bearings, closing his eyes briefly and sighing like he was mad at himself.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. He had been in the Army and had suffered terribly, evident from the glimpse of his left arm that she had accidentally gotten in the gym, and any sort of loud noise that might sound similar to an explosive would surely jar him at the very least.

After a moment, he rubbed his eyes with his fingers and then sighed, appearing to calm himself down, and she didn't say a word. It wasn't her place to say anything, and what could she say, anyway?

After that, he couldn't seem to look her in the eye, and the conversation was all but gone. She got the distinct feeling that he was embarrassed or just uncomfortable, and when more thunder rolled outside, she decided to try a tactic other than respectful silence.

"My parents died in a car accident," she said, taking herself by surprise as much as him. "I was six. They, uh, they were taking me and my brother out of state on vacation, and this other car... well, truck... came out nowhere and hit us almost head on. We went spinning, flipped a few times. Me and my brother were okay, but my parents were dead by the time the ambulances got there."

He stared at her, torn between confusion and quiet empathy for her. She looked down at her her hands and added, "Anyway, so because of that, I was terrified of driving. But I had to learn when my brother went away to college, because my grandma was sick and someone needed to be there to take her to and from her doctors, so... I forced myself to start driving. I used to be so scared whenever I'd get on the interstate that my foot would shake on the gas pedal, and if a semi passed me, I'd basically stop breathing. I'm a lot better now, but I still have my moments. I guess my point is... it sucks to be reminded of bad stuff from stupid every day things like merging into traffic or... thunder."

He stared at her in surprise, and she was surprised at herself as well. She had hardly even thought first before speaking, and now that she had, she was suddenly terrified that she had overstepped or offended him somehow.

But she hadn't. They sat in thoughtful, not uncomfortable silence, until he - plucking at his left sleeve - said so quietly that she barely heard, "Fourth of July's the worst."

She hadn't even thought of that before. Now she felt like a jerk for never thinking of how veterans dealt with the loud fireworks on that day every year.

"It's also my friend's birthday," he added. "We loved it when we were kids. But now..." he trailed off and shrugged.

"You know they make noise canceling headphones," she said. "I know because my brother used to snore really bad, and his room was next to mine, and headphones saved my life."

They both smiled faintly at her exaggeration. "Yeah, maybe I'll look into that."

She nodded, feeling almost giddy at the thought of having maybe helped him with something, even if it was very small. Then, processing what he'd said, she asked, "Wait. You said the Fourth of July was your friend's birthday. Do you mean Professor Steve, because if that is his birthday, you have no idea how fitting that is."

"Yeah it's him," he replied, almost-smile back on his face. "And I definitely know how fitting it is."

"Yeah, but all the students call him Captain America because he's so patriotic and like..."

He nodded. "Who do you think first gave him that nickname?"

She paused and then grinned widely. "Oh. Okay, yeah. That makes sense."

"I'm sure you guys have a few names for me too," he said, leaning back and, for now, leaving his sleeve alone.

She tried not to freeze a little, but it was hard, considering the... nature of his nicknames she'd heard from others. "Yeah, there's, you know... one or two."

"Do I want to know?" he asked, squinting slightly.

"They're not too bad," she shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean..." Deciding that she needed to distract him before he forced the words "Hottie McGrumpypants" out of her, she smiled and said, "I kinda overheard Professor Steve's name for you the other day, when I, uh... well, when I walked into the wall."

"Oh, yeah," he nodded. "Not many people call me that. Mostly just him and a few others." Then he paused. "I'm curious about something."

"What?" she asked, hoping to God it was a safe topic and not one that would make this entire situation more awkward.

"I don't... care what anyone thinks, honestly, but... what do the students say about me?"

She noticed that he kept saying "the students" rather than "you students", as if he was somehow separating her from the others, but she'd deal with whatever that meant later. "Oh, well... um... I mean most of them think that you're angry and... overly harsh... too strict... and terrifying. But very knowledgable about the material and, you know, otherwise a good teacher."

Amused by her response, he shrugged and said, "Well, guess not everybody can be as popular as Captain America."

Then he cracked a smile, and she smiled back. "I don't mind it. I mean yeah, the first day I was scared to death and dropping stuff everywhere, but..."

"Yeah, I remember."

Her inner alarm bells went off. He did?! To deal with this, she started rambling. "Yeah, so... it's just that for me, it was a big change anyway because I went to this tiny community college back home, so this has all been a big adjustment."

"You're doing very well," he replied, and she could tell that he was totally sincere. "You work hard and it's obvious. I appreciate that. It's the kids who don't work hard who piss me off."

She smiled because he did first. "Yeah, I would bet I'd be angry too if I had to deal with that. Plus everyone coming up with rumors and stuff..."

"Rumors?"

Oh crap. Floundering momentarily, she waved a hand and said, "Oh, just... little stupid things that aren't anyone's business."

"Like?"

"Um... well everyone thinks that you and Professor Romanoff are together."

His eyebrows shot up a bit. "They do?" When she nodded, he grinned and looked away, shaking his head. "Wow. Figures, but no. We're not."

"Oh." What else should she say to that? Cool? Awesome? Now that I know you're single, would you mind texting me in two years when doing so would no longer mean the end of both of us? In the end, she went with, "Then there's the handful of people who think you and Professor Steve are like secretly married and... stuff."

His expression went from amused to confused and mildly horrified. "Oh God. That's... no. Jesus. Why?"

She shrugged her ignorance. "I don't know. I'm pretty sure that this is just what happens when a college has weirdly young and good looking professors. It turns into a rumor mill and the students just..."

She froze mid-sentence, unblinking and realizing that she had just slipped and let it be known that she found him attractive, which... was not helpful or wise, at all, and now it was too late and she couldn't take it back. And the bastard had the nerve to appear amused by this, looking at her knowingly and grinning just slightly.

"I meant all three of you," she quickly added, trying to save herself. "Because you're all hot." She froze again and realized she was making this worse. "Not hot, oh God, what am I even..."

"Relax," he replied, shaking his head and still grinning. "I know what you mean. It's okay."

It wasn't okay, but he didn't need to know that. She needed to try to escape now, so she looked around and said, "I'm gonna go check and see if we can leave yet."

To her surprise, his face fell just slightly as soon as she said those words. But he shook it off before she could even blink and said, "Yeah, good idea."

Wondering if he had actually been disappointed that their conversation was coming to an end, Summer got up and headed back towards the front of the library to look out the doors. Now it was only lightly raining, and a look at the radar on her phone confirmed that the storm had mostly passed now. She turned to go tell him, only to once again find him already right behind her. Getting used to this now, she wasn't as startled and was able to smile and say, "Guess it's safe now. I'll go turn off the lights."

He nodded, and then she walked around him to go take care of the final procedures. Once it was done and the building was dimmed to just a few soft lights here and there, she headed back his way with her purse and keys in hand, and she definitely did not catch herself staring at how the light reflected off his profile here in the almost-dark.

"Okay, finally," she smiled, opening the doors and letting him walk through first, then turning and re-locking them once they were outside. He stood there and waited for her, and when she turned back around, he surprised her one more time.

"I'll walk you to your truck," he said, starting the mere ten-second walk to said truck as she fell into step beside him.

"Oh, okay. You don't have to do that," she immediately assured him.

"It's late, this is a big city," he shrugged. "Can't hurt."

"Yeah," she agreed lightly, and then, that quickly, they were standing next to her truck. Trying to figure out how to say goodbye without feeling like an idiot, she turned and said, "Well, sorry about the whole getting stuck here thing."

"I... don't think it was your fault," he pointed out, half-grin making a reappearance. "Unless you've got superpowers you're hiding."

"Yes," she replied with a mock-serious nod. "I'm Storm, from X-Men. I trapped us here on purpose."

He played along, and she quickly realized she should have kept her mouth shut. "Yeah? Why would you do that?"

Frick frick frick. "Um... I, uh... you know, just to... uh..."

He watched her carefully as she tried and failed to come up with a witty, non-incriminating response, and when it became clear that she had nothing, he simply gave her a look and, to her surprise, gave her shoulder a light pat with his right hand. "Goodnight, Summer."

"Goodnight," she replied as he walked away, heading to his own car as she watched him leave for just one second too long to be appropriate.

She got in her truck and flipped on the engine, taking a deep breath and realizing for the first time how fast her heart was fluttering and how her hands were even a little shaky. Groaning to herself, she lowered her forehead on to the steering wheel and gave herself a moment to cringe and curse at herself for being such an idiot, but her distress wasn't over yet. She realized that his car was only two spaces away from hers, and when she looked up and timidly glanced out the passenger side window, she found that he had indeed witnessed her moment of face-to-steering-wheel misery. While she died a little inside, he grinned and maintained eye contact just long enough to nearly give her a heart attack, then backed up his car and drove away.

"Oh my God, he totally knows," she muttered, covering her face with her hands and wondering why she did these things to herself.