Chapter 1: It's a love story, baby just say yes
"Shit! Motherfucker! Fuck! Shit!"
Lola swore profusely, slamming her hand down hard on the steering wheel of her car. The horn reverberated through the highway, and the man in the truck just next to her gave her an odd, exasperated look. She sighed and switched the engine off. This was not how her Monday morning was meant to pan out.
"Stark! In my office! Now!" yelled Clint Barton, motioning with his finger as he marched past.
Lola groaned and looked at her watch; it was already four thirty and she didn't want to be here much longer, especially on a Friday night.
"Now, Stark!" came his voice again, and Lola begrudgingly stood up as Natasha nudged her.
"He used to be so relaxed. Can't you sleep with him again, Nat?"
"You know I don't do repeats, sweetie. Besides, he's married now."
"Take one for the team." Giggled Lola, hurrying into Clint's office.
He gestured at her to sit down without looking up from his laptop. Her foot tapping an unknown rhythm, she glanced around the cramped little office.
Various awards and certificates sat in once gleaming frames, hooked permanently to the walls. The furniture was ageing, the dark brown wood contrasting deeply with the rather modern stories that were actually written at them. An overflowing recycle bin sat in the corner, bits of scrunched up paper littered around it. And then there was the overwhelming scent of cheap whiskey, cologne and sweat. All marks of a great newspaper editor, no doubt.
"I'm sending you to the Red Bulls on Monday morning." Said Clint dully. "You're interviewing James Barnes."
He looked at Lola with his usual serious expression and she blinked back.
"James Barnes? As in the soccer player?" she asked, unsure if she heard him right or not.
"Do you know any other James Barnes?"
"No, but I'm confused. Isn't this something Vis would want to do?"
Vis (or at least that's what everyone called him, Lola wasn't even sure anyone knew his real name anymore) headed the sports section of the paper. He had a certain vision for sports, and that was where the nickname came from. He had an extensive knowledge of every sport known to mankind, which no doubt aided his ability to predict scores with ease. He would watch football games and simply know what moves each player was about to make. It was something he prided himself on, so much so, that when Natasha once joked that he should take over Horoscopes from Jane, he gave her such a look that Natasha swore she could have seen lasers shoot from his eyes.
"He's the greatest mind when it comes to sports, but even he couldn't foresee that darn little Chihuahua that tripped him up. He's got a broken ankle, no way can he do it." Scoffed Clint, running a hand through his short hair. "You're my best shot."
"But, I write about lifestyle and culture. And you're sending me to do an interview for the sports pages?"
"You wanted bigger pieces didn't you? Here's your chance."
"I don't know a thing about soccer! It's not even that popular here, is it?"
"Come on, Stark. You say you want to be a writer, right? You've got the weekend, do your research! Your old man's a billionaire, take the jet out to London and watch a game for all I care! You got this!"
"Okay, I've got this." Said Lola firmly, standing up with determination. "I'm going to interview James Barnes, and write a killer piece. I've got this."
"Stark." Said Clint warningly, as she stepped out the office. "Don't let me down."
"I've got this" became Lola's mantra, as she hopped on the subway and made her way home. She was going to need all the help she could get, and who better to ask than a man? Her man, in fact. And that was exactly who she texted, hoping he wouldn't be too disappointed giving up a night out at a new club in town to spend a weekend on the couch watching soccer with her.
They had fallen into a bit of a rut after moving in together. It was all too easy to put pajamas on after a long day of work instead of lingerie and high heels. Takeaways just seemed more appealing than going out for dinner. A night out together was meant to bring that spark back; hot, sweaty dancing and tequila shots would help spice things up in the bedroom too, no?
Lola rung Pietro, as she unlocked the front door, stopping in the doorway when she heard it ring. His phone was lying on the couch, next to… a pair of electric blue platform heels? Those definitely weren't hers. A guttural moan suddenly echoed through the small apartment; feminine and unfamiliar. Her heart racing, she approached the bedroom. She didn't know why she had to open the door, she knew what was happening inside. But, she supposed she had to see it with her own eyes.
Pietro standing by the bed, a platinum blonde bimbo with bowling balls on her chest and smudged lipstick bent over it. They didn't seem to notice her at first, and Lola was surprisingly calm, as she crossed her arms and cleared her throat.
"Lola!" cried Pietro, accidentally dropping the blonde, who fell off the bed with a shriek. "You are home! I thought you were going out with Natasha?"
"No, that was next week." Said Lola, her voice quiet with danger as she kicked a lurid neon thong aside with disgust. "Which you would know, if you had been paying attention. I guess you were too busy thinking about little miss fake tits over here."
"Hey, I'm all natural!"
"Isn't that what all the hookers say?"
"Why, you little- "
"Lola, please!" interjected Pietro, stepping towards her. "Baby, it is not what it looks like, I promise."
"It's not? You mean you just tripped and fell dick first into her? Well, actually, there's probably been enough men in there to make it an easy job…"
"You are such a- "
"Lola, please, let me put my clothes on, and I will explain everything, okay, baby?"
"Let me save you the trouble. Get out."
"W-what?"
"Get. Out. Now."
The memory of it all came flooding back to Lola now, as the traffic eventually lurched forward and she found herself en route once again. She forced herself to push it out of her mind; she was already late; she didn't need a grey cloud hanging over her during this interview, too.
"Come on, Pierce! You know I hate these things."
"Well, soldier, you're just going to have to put up with it."
"That's what you always say. Then they dig about my personal life anyway."
"This will be different, it's for The Daily Marvel. A reputable newspaper. The sports guy's no nonsense. I doubt he would give a damn if you told him you attend gay sex parties and pay a drag queen to shove a dildo up your ass while you eat sushi off a man's balls."
"Well, when you put it like that... Fine. Fine. I'll do it."
"Good. And try to smile at least once, okay, soldier?"
Bucky begrudgingly took a seat in the conference room and pulled out his phone. This Vis guy, whoever he was, was ten minutes late. So much for a reputable newspaper. Scrolling through his texts boredly, he jumped when the door slammed open.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mr. Barnes! I didn't anticipate so much traffic this morning! I hope you haven't been waiting too long. I am so sorry." Said a distinctly feminine voice that couldn't have belonged to Vis.
His eyes took in everything, from her glossy brown hair that matched her chocolate brown eyes to the apologetic smile on her soft-looking lips. She was wearing a neatly tailored black suit, the pants like a second skin on her legs and the blazer was unbuttoned to reveal a white V-neck t-shirt. His eyes were drawn there briefly, until he noticed the pointed stilettos she was towering in.
"Ahem." Lola cleared her throat noisily and Bucky snapped his face up, his eyes meeting hers.
The tables turned as she found herself ogling him just as he had ogled her. There was no denying how handsome he was; from his famously powerful thighs- he was a soccer player after all- to the way his t-shirt seemed to cling snugly to his chest and arms. His chiseled cheekbones and sharp jawline seemed to have been carved by Greek gods themselves, while his dark hair lay softly over them. He had the cheekiest smile that matched the sparkle of his blue eyes perfectly, and he winked at her now.
"See something you like, doll?" he smirked, his smooth voice dripping with charm and sex. Lola raised an eyebrow at him skeptically.
"Can't say I do. Let's hope the readers disagree. Shall we, Mr. Barnes?"
"A woman who knows what she wants." He smirked again, but she simply sat down and pulled out a notebook and recording device.
"Whenever you're ready."
"For you, doll, always."
"Tell me, Mr. Barnes, how do you manage on the soccer field when you can't use all this charm?" she asked, pressing the little record button.
"Charm's not my only skill, I'm real good at everything I do. Soccer included." He replied smoothly, taking the seat next to her and leaving his legs open invitingly. Lola ignored this, making him smirk again.
"If you're so good, then why not an English or Spanish team? You started off at CSKA Moscow, so why not continue there? Soccer is infinitely more popular in Europe."
"New York's my home." He said simply. "I owe everything to CSKA; they changed my life. And I wanted to bring that to the people here. You're right, soccer isn't as popular here, but, look at how much it's changed lives for top players in South America and Europe. It's kept kids off the streets, given them a chance at life. Can't be a coincidence, right?"
"So you see yourself as a hero? A role model for the new generation."
"I'm flattered you see me that way. Can't say I'm complaining."
"Oh, I don't imagine you would. A good track record on the pitch, last season's top scorer, an idol for the fans and a favourite with the ladies- "
"Includin' you? Miss- sorry, what did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. As I was saying- "
"Nope. I'm not answerin' anymore questions until you tell me your name." he said simply, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. He smiled patiently at Lola until she rolled her eyes.
"Lola. My name's Lola."
"Lola." He repeated, and she tried to fight the blush creeping up her cheeks.
"Yes. Can we get back to the interview now?"
"How 'bout tonight instead? Over drinks. Maybe I'll get to interview you too." He flashed that trademark smile again, and she almost melted into a puddle.
A few martinis to lose her inhibitions with this gorgeous man seemed like a heavenly way to spend a night, and no doubt Natasha would be in full support of this, but, she stopped herself. How many times had she seen his picture plastered across the front of a magazine, leaving a fancy do with a different woman each time? A model one night, an actress another. And then there was that Dottie- his girlfriend, no doubt. The poor girl. No, she didn't want to be one of those. So she forced a smile and poised her pen again.
"No, thank you, Mr. Barnes. I'd rather finish this now, I have work to get to and you have training."
"If you insist, doll. What else you got for me?"
Lola continued with the list of questions she had formulated, and Bucky answered each one with ease. Soccer was his sphere, and it was very obvious to him that it certainly wasn't hers. She rarely challenged him when he spoke about moments from last season, suggesting she hadn't watched it, on television or live. But, if she hadn't been to any games, where did he recognize her from? Had he slept with her already? No, no he would remember a pretty face like that, those lips wrapped around him, her screaming his name in ecstasy…
"If you could change one thing about last season, what would it be?" she asked suddenly, catching him off guard.
He retreated from his dirty thoughts and looked at her thoughtfully.
"That we finished second." He grinned, with somewhat of a cringe. "'S a shame, 'cause we worked hard all season, and that it came to down one point at the end of it all. But, I guess anyone'd say that, right?"
"Some might say how many shots they hit on target, or how many passes they completed. Something to make themselves look better. But you didn't." she replied slowly, and he furrowed his brows.
Was that surprise in her voice? Or irritation?
"Soccer is a team sport. One player isn't bigger than the team."
"Yet out of all the players, you seem to be the one that receives the most attention. Sponsorship deals, the face of marketing campaigns, not to mention the ladies."
"I'm just a lucky guy." He smiled.
"And on that note, I think we're ready to wrap up. Good luck for the new season- both you and the team."
Lola ended her little recording and stood up, putting her belongings back into her bag.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Barnes."
"I got a name too, doll." He chuckled. "You can call me by it tonight over those drinks."
"I don't think so."
"You're off record now, you can say yes."
"Look, Mr. Barnes- "
"Call me Bucky."
"Mr. Barnes. I'm not going out for drinks with you."
"How 'bout dinner then?"
"Do I need to spell it out for you? I'm not interested in you."
"You're playin' hard to get. Right?" he asked uncertainly, and Lola laughed bitterly.
"God, are you that far up your own ass?"
"Excuse me?"
"It must be a nice little world you live in, that you just assume every girl is desperate to go out with you? Even though you have a girlfriend, Dottie, who you're just stringing along. Every magazine says you don't do commitment."
"Wow, that's news to me, doll. Next time I need to know something 'bout my own life I'll just pick up a tabloid. Apparently they know me better than I do."
"Like you don't know about your reputation? It's not as if you do anything to hide it."
"I don't have to do anything I don't want to."
"Neither do I. And that includes not doing you!" She spat furiously, throwing her bag over her shoulder and storming out the conference room.
"How'd it go?" asked Pierce, walking into the conference room. Bucky still stood there, raging quietly.
"Who was she?" he asked, and Pierce looked at him with confusion.
"She? I thought you just got interviewed by Vis?"
"No, some girl."
"You sure she was from Daily Marvel?"
"She never said."
"Geez, soldier. A pretty face and a firm ass and you lose your mind, huh?"
"Just find out who she was."
"I'll try. Now get to training. And don't forget that party at Stark Tower tonight. Don't bring a date, we need to set a good impression if we're getting any sponsorship from them."
"Lucky she turned me down then, huh?"