"Bucky, come on. You can't seriously be surprised. I mean, you are-"
"Don't! Don't say it," he warns, holding his index finger up in front of my face.
"-kinda old," I finish, with a sheepish wince. "No offence, obviously you don't look it, but still. And besides, what's the big deal? I've got glasses too! And I'm like 80 years younger than you," I add quietly.
"I heard that," he snaps, then sighs. "It's just… how? I thought the serum would prevent something like this. I mean, impaired eyesight? That's supposed to happen to normal people, not an enhanced super soldier. How am I supposed to go on missions now with glasses? If they break or fall off, then what?" He stares at me with a manic, questioning look in his eyes.
"Bucky," I say slowly and calmly, "there are these things called contacts that you can wear instead of glasses. They're like little caps for your eyeballs that help you see better," I grin goofily at him. He returns it, albeit sarcastically.
"What?"
"Look, just come to the optometrist. Steve said you had to and for some reason he put me in charge of making sure you go, so come on." I look at him expectantly. He shoots me a glare before brushing past me. I skip ahead to catch up to him.
Back at the Tower, Bucky scowls in a corner. I tell Steve about our trip and he chuckles, before entering the living room to check on his best friend.
"Hey Buck. You get your specs?" He maintains a passive expression, waiting for Bucky to respond.
"Yeah, but I don't need them. So I'm not wearing them."
Steve and I exchange quick glances, which Bucky doesn't miss.
"What is this anyway, some conspiracy between the two of you to get me looking like a lab rat?"
I snort; despite sort of being one of them, I don't take offence. Steve frowns.
"Buck, those 'lab rats' are important to us. They keep all our equipment working in great condition."
"Yeah well, I'm not one of them," his eyes flit towards me. Steve sighs.
"If you're gonna be stubborn about this, you can't come with us on our missions."
"Whoop de doo, more time for me to hang around here and catch up on current events. You miss a lot when you're an ice pop." With that, he pushes himself upwards and stands eye-to-eye with Steve, clenching his jaw and walking back to his room. Steve sighs.
"I'm sorry, about the lab-"
"Nah, don't-"
"-rat thing."
"-worry about it. I doubt he'll come around any time soon, he seems to really hate the idea."
"Man's gotta do what he's gotta do," Steve shrugs. "Hey, I'll see you later alright? Gonna be down in Training, in case you need me," he pats my shoulder and heads for the stairs leading to the basement. I nod, and collapse on the sofa behind me. Smiling at the ceiling, I try to mentally re-conjure the image of Bucky wearing his glasses at the doctor's, for exactly a second, before practically snatching them off.
In the next couple of days, I only see Bucky in the kitchen and Training. He struggled reading the back of a Froot by the Foot box yesterday - no doubt he was wondering why any of us like to eat strawberry-flavoured strips of plastic, but since he refuses to wear his glasses and hasn't yet come around to the idea of touching his own eyeballs, he continues to sulk at the loss of his ability to read small print. I on the other hand, find his angry, furrowed brow adorable. It is with this thought that I smile to myself, deciding to check if Bucky is in the living room. Maybe I could read the newspaper to him…
I take the stairs to avoid the ding of the elevator and spot Bucky sitting in my favourite chair, today's newspaper spread across his lap. He's wearing his glasses! I bite back a squeal and hang back in the shadows to somewhat creepily watch him for a few beats; he looks so serene, despite his forehead being scrunched in concentration as he reads.
He bites his lip as he focuses on an article, bringing the paper closer to his face and obscuring me from his line of sight. I take the opportunity to tread lightly over to him until he notices a shadow looming over him, and flips the top of the newspaper over to reveal his face. Oh my god he looks even hotter up close. I suddenly forget how to breathe.
"Something wrong?"
I shake my head, trying not to smile. He seems to have forgotten about his glasses momentarily, and how he didn't want anyone to see him wearing them. Raising an eyebrow, he straightens the paper and goes back to reading, as I sit next to the chair he's occupying.
"Any good news?"
He grunts. "Is there ever?"
I squirm for a second, before venturing with, "There is a little something… but it's not in the paper."
"Mmm, really, and what might that be?" He enquires with mild disinterest.
"Well," I stretch the word, "you're not grumbling about your glasses anymore," I end cheerily.
His hands tense on the newspaper before folding it carefully and setting it down on the table next to him. He turns to look at me intently, his gaze fixed on mine. Just a couple of bespectacled nerds having a staring contest. Before I can say exactly that, I blurt out, "Can I try them on?"
He blinks, but I don't give him any more time to react because in an uncharacteristically bold move, I've already reached forward to gently tease his glasses off his head. He makes no effort to stop me as I switch my glasses for his own.
Everything looks pretty distorted. I shake my head.
"Isn't it weird, the different kind of vision problems people can have? I mean, look at me. I can't read road signs from far away and you can't read a newspaper. Or the ingredients in a fruit roll up," I add. "But what's the big deal? Like I said before, they're just glasses. What, did you think they'd ruin your rep? That you'd become a nerd if you wore them?" I challenge him jokingly.
He smiles… barely. "Actually, yes." I cock my head at this.
He continues, "I used to be, um," he clears his throat awkwardly, "quite popular amongst ladies before the war. A guy like me would never be caught wearing glasses. At less not at this age," he amends.
I open my mouth to ask how old he thinks he is, but he interjects with a chuckle.
"You know what I mean. I thought once I got to be around my father's age, then it'd be normal. But guys who wore glasses young always got picked on, and hardly ever got the girls. I guess I just didn't want to expose myself to that kind of vulnerability," he admits. "Especially not with Sam and Stark around," he adds, scowling. "Which is why I was being so stubborn before, about wearing them in front of anyone."
I blink a couple of times. "Um, okay that makes sense I suppose. A hot, jock type like you obviously wouldn't want to look like a nerd. But you know what," I lean forward as if to let him in on a huge secret. He leans forward unconsciously too. "Nerds are hot right now," I nod convincingly. He laughs softly.
"No kidding."
Wait. What?
My heart skips a beat. In an attempt to keep the conversation going, I say, "Hey, you didn't even tell me how I looked in your glasses!" I wiggle my eyebrows comically and nudge him in the arm.
He smiles, the wrinkle between his eyebrows reappearing. "You're a bit far for me to see properly."
"Oh," I scoot forward on my seat without thinking.
"No," he drawls. "Still not clear enough."
I swallow thickly, and tentatively lean forward a bit more.
"Almost there," his voice has dropped so low, it's practically a whisper. Our noses are now as close together as two clouds about to collide and erupt into a storm.
"I thought you could see things fine from a distance," I say shakily, slightly breathless.
The corners of his mouth turn up a fraction as he agonisingly slowly raises his hands to my face to slip his glasses off my head, and onto his own.
"Better?"
I will myself not to look at his mouth.
"Much."
He extends me no such courtesy.
That's the last word either of us says before a loud ahem makes us jump apart, me onto something angular.
"Oh!" I gasp as I spring up off the chair to check on my forgotten glasses. They're okay, phew.
"So, you've warmed up to the glasses," Steve chuckles, but it's not a question.
Bucky glances at me, smiling, and in the process lighting my insides on fire. "Yeah. I was told that nerds are apparently hot right now."