"Five Times a Mistaken Crush"

Phil Coulson cleared his throat as he checked his watch. "JARVIS, could you remind me which floors the Avengers are occupying? One by one?"

"Of course, Agent Coulson. Mr. Stark and Miss Potts occupy the uppermost residential floor—"

"Naturally, the penthouse."

"Dr. Banner is on the same level, and the third apartment is shared by Prince Thor and Dr. Foster. There is a separate elevator leading to the Research and Development Department from there."

"Okay. And… the others?"

"The next level also has three apartments. Agents Barton and Romanov occupy separate ones, and Mr. Wilson is currently using the third."

Phil frowned, and looked up at the security camera. "Currently?"

"Captain Rogers is temporarily sharing one of the guest floors with Sergeant Barnes while he adjusts to life post-brainwashing."

"Ah." Phil nodded. "Okay. And… which floor is that?"

Outside the door to the guest quarters, a package was left. It wasn't signed – there was no name anywhere – and there was only a note resting on top of it: 'I hope you like these. They're the best money can buy.'

Bucky frowned as he looked over the note, and then up at the ceiling.

"JARVIS?" he said, not quite comfortable with the robotic butler, but it was a security system, one looking out for them, so he had to trust that it was okay.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

See? Fucking disconcerting.

"Do you know who left these?" he asked, shaking the box of chocolates. There was a huge bow on them, and the box was tightly sealed, but that didn't mean anything.

"They came in the internal post, sir. All scans appear to be normal. There are no electronic devices, and the seal is from the original manufacturer, so there is less than one percent chance that it has been tampered with."

"Huh."

"What's going on, Buck?" Steve asked, walking into the living room as Bucky set the candy on the table. "Did someone leave you a present?"

"At least poison probably won't kill us," Bucky said. He handed the note to Steve. "Look familiar to you?"

"A little," Steve said.

"If I may examine the note, sir?" JARVIS said. Steve held it up to the camera. "I will run a check on it now."

"Thanks. Bucky… you brushed your teeth ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, and I'm genetically enhanced. Super metabolism, remember? Besides, sooner we work out whether the stuff's poisoned, the better." He popped a chocolate into his mouth – packaging said it should be caramel – and his knees nearly buckled at the explosion of sweet, buttery cream filling his mouth and running over his tongue and down his throat. He moaned, and sank into a chair.

"Want me to leave you along with the chocolates?" Steve teased. Bucky scowled at him.

"You try one and tell me they aren't worth moanin' over, punk," he said, pushing the box forward. Steve held up his hands.

"Wouldn't wanna spoil your fun," he said. "JARVIS, any word on the handwriting?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

"…Malfunctioning?"

"No, sir. The closest match I have found belongs to Agent Phillip Coulson."

Bucky dropped the chocolate he'd just picked up back into the box. "Oh."

"Shit," Steve muttered.

"So… these are for Steve." Bucky pushed the box further away. "Sorry. Wasn't thinkin'."

"You can have `em, Bucky. I'm kinda confused about why Agent Coulson would send chocolates to me anonymously."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "He's got a crush on you, Steve. Everyone knows it. Coulson's probably trying to do the whole secret admirer thing, but it doesn't exactly work `cause we've got JARVIS."

Steve winced. "But I don't…"

"Want him?"

"No. Bucky, please… someone needs to eat those, and I don't think I can do it in good conscience."

"…You're throwing away perfectly good food?" Bucky said incredulously.

"No! I'm passing it on to you. Coulson doesn't ever need to know."

"And you don't think I'll feel guilty havin' these when they're meant for you? When Coulson spent… probably a lot of money on them, just for you?"

"Nah." Steve shook his head. "He knows I'd share `em with you."

"I did tell him that you were both residing on this level," JARVIS said. "He wished to know where everyone lived."

"Just a cover to find out where Stevie is stayin'," Bucky said. His gaze kept being drawn back to the truly delicious candy. He sighed.

"If you're so dead against havin' `em, I'll just throw `em out," Steve said, reaching for the box. Bucky immediately covered it and pulled it closer, nearly growling. Steve smirked; damn it, he'd been played.

"I guess one more couldn't hurt," he grumbled. This one was peppermint, and he groaned as he leaned back, the minty freshness cleansing his palate, the soft chocolate torturing his tongue with its smoothness. Steve burst out laughing.

"I definitely can't eat them now," he said.

"Sure you don't want—?"

"I'm good. If I had one… it'd be like I was accepting Coulson's feelings, and I can't do that. Nothing against the guy… but it feels weird. A bad fit."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Get any more presents you don't want, send `em my way. Especially if it's more candy."

"Maybe it's just platonic?" Steve said hopefully. Bucky snorted.

"Maybe," he said, handing over the science book he'd just unwrapped for Steve. He flipped over the note, which said 'For your interest in science'. "Not the most romantic gift."

Steve groaned, covering his face with a hand. "I'm really not that interested in science."

"It'll help you catch up with all the modern marvels," Bucky said, tapping the cover of the book. "Looks pretty good to me."

"You have it, then. I've had longer to 'catch up', and this is more your thing. If Coulson wanted to get an appropriate present for me, he could've gone with an art book or something, not… this." He shoved it into Bucky's chest. "Please. It's… sweet of him to try, but…"

"Hey." Bucky frowned. "You're gettin' presents from a not-so-secret admirer, nice ones. This is hardback, heavy, new. Good quality paper, full-colour pictures. Probably cost a lot, more than we would've earned in a month back in the day."

"Bucky, don't. I feel guilty enough about this."

"As you said, could just be platonic." Bucky flipped through the pages. "Can I borrow this? It looks interesting."

"Right up your alley, I'll bet. Just don't tell him I gave it to you."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Bucky was leaning on one elbow on the desk, filling out paperwork. A glance across the desk told him that yes, the writing on the notes matched Coulson's. He half-smiled at the agent.

"You should visit the tower," he said. "We'd all like to see you more often."

"I do visit—"

"Yeah, but it'd be more convenient for us if you lived there."

"But not for my work for SHIELD, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky pouted. "C'mon, Agent Coulson. You should eat with us. Come eat with me and Steve sometime, if you don't wanna hang out with Stark."

"Eat with you?"

"Watch movies, whatever."

"I didn't know you were still… He's still staying on the guest floor with you?"

"Yep. Can't get rid of the punk. So. Movies?"

"What kind of movies?" Coulson asked, putting down his pen and giving Bucky his full attention. Unsettling, but Bucky pushed on.

"The classics," he said. "We met some of the actors, y'know, Steve especially on the tours. Have you seen The Glenn Miller Story?"

"I've heard of it. James Stewart and… June Allyson?"

"That's the one. One of my favourites. We've also been watching Disney." This was probably a bad idea, but… "Steve loves Disney. It's not so bad, but I like to see people, especially pretty dames."

"…Dames?"

"Well." Bucky smiled when he thought about Clark Gable. "Not just the ladies. But then we're not talkin' about me."

"I don't mind. It's the two of us here. Who else would we talk about, without it being considered talking behind someone's back?"

"It's only bad if you say unflatterin' things," Bucky said. Coulson chuckled.

"Fair enough," he said. "What other movies do you like? Or music?"

"Big band. We both like it."

"Uh-huh?"

"Classic musicals… not so music. Like Ruby Keeler? Well, Steve likes her, the female artists. And dancing music."

"But you prefer the men?" Coulson said. Bucky raised an eyebrow, and he back-pedalled. "Male singers?"

"Deeper voices. But I've been enjoying the James Bond films. I mean, we both have. Shirley Bassey…" He grinned. "Anyway. You don't wanna hear all this."

"Yes, I do," he said quickly.

"Why?"

"Uh… you're my people. Of course I'm interested." He trailed off and returned to his paperwork, a blush on his cheeks.

Bucky smiled to himself.

"Definitely romantic interest."

Steve flopped into a chair when Bucky held up a CD. It looked professionally done, except for the fact that it said 'Mix CD' on it. The accompanying note said 'I believe this could be to your taste?'

"Why is this happening?" he said.

"Your animal magnetism," Bucky said dryly. His heart sank a little as he looked over the list of songs. "This is good. Music of our generation."

"I'm trying to get into modern music at least," Steve muttered.

"Nothin' wrong with big band! And I like rock. Some rock."

"You keep the CD, then."

Bucky handed it to Steve, shaking his head. "Phil's giving these to you. You shouldn't just discard them, or palm them off onto me."

"'Phil'?"

"What?"

"You called him Phil, not Coulson."

"Oh." Bucky cleared his throat. "Well, you know, his office is quiet and people don't stare. The only place I'm gonna get any work done outside o' the tower."

"Huh. Hey, wait…" Steve's brow furrowed. "You're not feedin' information about me to him, are you?"

"Well, he clearly didn't follow my musical suggestions," Bucky said, holding up the CD, "so chances are he isn't even payin' attention. Oh, I invited him over sometime, but I don't know when he'll be able to make it."

Steve stood up. "Buck, don't you dare encourage this."

"You're not discouragin' it, Steve!"

"Because I don't wanna talk about it!"

"You're gonna have to if this keeps up. He deserves to know you're not interested."

"What if we're wrong about it being him, Bucky? It'd be embarrassing for both of us."

"Steve—"

"Look, if I don't say anything, maybe he'll get the message."

"Will he know that you know it's him?" Bucky pointed out.

"Well… it's not like we haven't seen his writing before, and JARVIS could easily confirm it," Steve replied. "He probably doesn't sign his name because he knows that I'd have to address the problem one way or the other, and—"

"And he's leaving it in your hands," Bucky said.

"Or he wants to enjoy himself a little longer before he's rejected," Steve said, fingering the note. He shook his head. "I can't listen to this, Bucky. It feels too personal."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Your kinda music, anyway," Steve said, pointing to the list.

"I know, I know."

He was beginning to wish that it was meant for him.

It was getting colder. There was a running joke in the tower that Bucky was still wearing the same hoodie every day. Well… he liked it. It was comfortable. And it's not like he couldn't get a new one, he just… didn't want to. This one kept him warm during the nights when he searched for Steve, when he broke the brainwashing and tried to find his friend. He'd pulled it from a charity bin. Second-hand, but that just made it more comfortable, `cause it didn't need to be broken in.

Sure, it looked ratty. But it was familiar, and he liked familiar. Yeah, new stuff was fine, and he was supposed to be getting into the twenty-first century. There was nothing wrong with an old hoodie, though, right?

"Just get a new one, okay?" Steve said.

"Why?" Bucky asked, stubborn to the last.

"Because threadbare's not gonna cut it in winter."

"I'll wear layers—"

"Bucky."

He sighed.

Then a few days later a Captain America hoodie turned up outside the door. Bucky clutched it between his hands when Steve handed it to him.

"Perfect fit for you," he said.

"No, it's a perfect fit for you," Bucky said, trying to hand it back. Steve wouldn't take it.

"It's bigger, so you can layer under it," he said. "And your arm will fit, which is the most important thing."

"It's a Captain America hoodie, Steve."

"I'm not wearing my own merchandise, Buck. That's tacky."

"Stark does it."

"Like I said," Steve said, arching an eyebrow, "tacky."

Bucky sniggered, but then he looked down at the blue, at the shield on the chest, at the stars and stripes inside the hood and pockets. It was actually pretty subtle. He liked it; Steve even pointed out that the blue matched his eyes.

"It's supposed to be for you," he whispered.

"Don't you want to wear it?"

"It looks nice," Bucky said. His flesh index finger stroked the fleecy lining. "Feels nice. But—"

"Just around here, if you want. Or we could say that you liked mine so much that you got one of your own. I think someone would say 'Twinsies'?"

"Steve—"

"And I'll buy my own if I need to, to keep up the pretence, but I can't accept the one Agent Coulson has bought because… because…"

"You're being stupid."

"I'd just feel guilty!"

"Y'know, eighty years ago we would've been grateful for free food, books, clothes." He held up the hoodie. "How did things change?"

"Tony Stark, I guess."

Bucky looked down. Steve forced him to put on the hoodie, and he snuggled into the hood, inhaling deeply. He caught Phil's scent; that confirmed it, if nothing else. That he was the one sending these presents to Steve.

And not… not to Bucky.

He wasn't really thinking the day he wore the hoodie – not his hoodie, Steve's hoodie, he couldn't pretend otherwise – to SHIELD. He bumped into Phil, who looked him over quickly and smiled.

"Hello, Bucky," he said. "Nice hoodie."

"Uh… thanks. It's, uh… Steve's got one like it, you know."

"Really? Well, it brings out your eyes."

"That's what he said."

Phil's smile widened. "He's an artist, so he can't be wrong about these things, can he?"

"I guess not."

"Can I help you with something, or are you here to see someone else?"

"Hey, Bucky," Steve said, jogging up to them in a plain hoodie. He skidded to a stop in front of them, eyes widening when he saw Phil. "Oh, hey, Coulson."

"Hello, Rogers. Not wearing your Captain America hoodie?"

"Um… not today."

"Bucky mentioned you had one, that's all. You're not interested in playing 'Twinsies'?"

"He said that's what people would say," Bucky said quickly. Steve shot him a glare while Phil smiled at him. "Actually, I'm not here to see you."

"…Oh."

"But maybe you can help?"

"Anytime." Phil glanced at Steve. "Whatever you need, Bucky."

"We were thinkin' about gettin' a dog."

"You want a dog?"

"Steve wanted one when we were kids," Bucky explained. "I didn't think we could look after one, and hell, we'd probably spend more money on feedin' it than ourselves."

"That's very noble," Phil said. His approval made Bucky's heart flutter, and he clenched his hands in the pocket of not-his-the hoodie.

"We heard we could get robotic dogs," he continued.

"Bucky's interested in the science of it," Steve said. Phil glanced at him, then returned his attention to Bucky.

"You want a robotic dog, not a real one?" he said, his spine straightening. Bucky shrugged.

"Probably can't hurt a fake dog with this," he said, jerking his head towards his left arm. "Might pinch a real dog's skin. It'd be easier to look after a robotic one. Stark could be our vet or whatever."

"We don't issue robotic dogs at SHIELD," Phil said. "Want me to make inquiries for you?"

"Yes, please," Bucky said, and he grinned in relief. Phil's smile grew. "Thanks, Phil. Uh, sorry. Agent Coulson."

"No, you can call me Phil. I'll see what I can do."

That afternoon, a robotic dog turned up on their apartment-step. On top of the box was a similar handwritten note: 'Don't say I don't do anything for you, but this one you can share'.

"Hell," Steve said, running fingers through his hair.

"Great, I'm an afterthought," Bucky said. He was looking over the instructions, beating down the giant fucking ache inside that was threatening to make him cry. "You struck gold. These things must cost—"

"Stop it, Bucky."

"And it's for both of us, even though it's really just for you, and you 'share' it with me."

"I would've been happy with a real dog," Steve said. "We could've got a service dog."

"This one can act like a service dog," Bucky said, throwing him the manual with a bit more force than necessary. "See?"

"This is more your kinda thing," Steve said.

"Deal with it."

Steve frowned, but didn't reply to that, and Bucky was grateful.

A boxed bouquet of flowers arrived half a week later. The note said 'I'm sure you know who I am, and I'm hoping you'll let me take you to dinner. I'll be here at six.'

It was five-thirty, and Steve wanted to run. He was allowed to be Steve Rogers when it came to relationships, damn it! He didn't have to face it bravely like Captain America, `cause he sure as hell didn't feel like Captain America at the moment.

"You're staying here," Bucky said, shoving his wallet into his back pocket. "I'm gonna leave you some room, okay?"

"Bucky, please, nothing's gonna happen—"

"Regardless, you owe it to Phil to let him down face-to-face, not run off like a coward."

"It's gonna be awkward as hell—"

"Stop it, Steve! Do you know how much… what I wouldn't give to be in your position?"

Steve paused, looking his friend up and down. "Bucky…"

"I want it to be me."

"Someone will—"

"I want Phil to want me! I want…" Bucky looked close to crying, and things started to make sense to Steve.

"You're jealous because you have feelings for Agent Coulson," he said.

Bucky nodded. "You've made it clear to me that you don't want him, that you're… disgusted by his attraction to you. Just bear in mind that someone else would give anything to have that… and just let `im down gently."

"Bucky—"

"I'll be back in an hour, unless you… change your mind or somethin'. Or take him for drinks to take the sting outta `vit."

"Bucky—"

"An' I'll kick ya six ways t' Sunday if you're harsh, y'hear? JARVIS'll record it for me, won't you, J?"

"Certainly, sir."

"So I'll… see you later."

Steve waved, feeling stupid for the action, as Bucky left. Then he sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands.

How'd he not see this?

Less than half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. Too late to run, and Bucky was right. He owed it to Coulson, who'd nearly given his life for them on more than one occasion, and maybe… maybe he could try to tip Coulson's attention in Bucky's direction?

He opened the door gingerly, and Coulson raised his eyebrows.

"Captain Rogers."

"You can… call me Steve, if you want to." Not that it'd help the situation any, but still. He stepped back. "Wanna come in?"

"Yes, thank you. That's why I'm here." He moved past, and Steve closed the door, nearly crushing the handle out of nerves. "You don't look surprised to see me."

"JARVIS matched up your handwriting."

"Ah. I thought he might do that. Didn't seem to be any point in signing them with my name."

"Guess not."

"Where's Bucky?"

"He's… out."

"Out?" Coulson sounded surprised. "Why?"

"It was gonna be awkward enough. Um." He scratched the back of his head. He felt like absolute crap, having to do this, but it was necessary. "Listen, the reason I'm here is… look, uh, Phil, the attention's flattering, but…"

"But?"

"Not reciprocated."

Coulson's face fell. "Oh."

"The book, the dog, the flowers… it's all been nice of you, but it can't go on when it's all, uh…"

"One-sided." Coulson swallowed at Steve's nod. "I've been an idiot. I'm sorry."

"Look, it's just a crush. You'll get over it in—"

"Not a crush." Coulson's voice sounded choked. Steve noticed how nicely he was dressed; no fast food restaurant for dinner. Pity he'd gone to that trouble for nothing.

"Not a…?"

"I wouldn't risk everything for anything less than… than l-love." He swallowed again, staring at the floor. "I'm sorry. He could've stayed. He shouldn't have just run away like a… like a…"

"He didn't feel it was right to be here when you…"

Judging by the pained look on Coulson's face, that really didn't make it any better, though Steve couldn't work out why.

"Good night, Captain Rogers," the agent whispered, and then he hurried out.

Feeling like shit without completely understanding why, Steve sat back down and thought over the kind presents. The chocolates Bucky had enjoyed, the book which would've been of more interest to Bucky than to Steve, the mix CD with music Bucky liked, the hoodie to replace… the one… and the dog…

Steve raised his head in horror. 'He shouldn't have just run away like a… like a…'

A what? A coward, like Bucky had been accusing Steve? Surprised to see Steve there, even more surprised that Bucky wasn't? Crushed when… crap, thinking back over the conversation, Steve had never been specified as the recipient of the gifts. They'd been left on the floor where Bucky was staying. The internal mail would've taken Steve's post to his apartment – Sam had to bring it down to them, what idiots – not to the floor with a post-it note saying 'James Barnes' beside the button in the elevator.

Steve was dialling his best friend before his mind could even catch up to it.

"Done, punk?" Bucky said. There were voices in the background.

"You're not at a bar, are you?"

"No. I've just been walkin'. Can't decide what to do if you—"

"It wasn't me, Buck."

"What do you mean, it wasn't you?"

"The internal post delivery always takes my mail to my floor, not yours. You were right, the science book, the music, they were more your thing. Everyone's been saying that you need a new hoodie. Coulson only perked up about the dog when we said that you wanted one; he wasn't invested in the conversation before that. Except for the fact that he kept looking at you."

"…After the second gift, I was talking to Coulson, and he didn't know that you were still living on the guest floor with me. Oh, fuck. But it can't—"

"He loves you, Bucky! He said he wouldn't do all this, 'risk everything', he said, for just a crush. He'd only do it for love, Bucky. He loves you."

"Where… where is he? Did he tell you this? Is he there?"

"No! I didn't realise until after he'd left. I thought he was talking about me, because that's what we thought all along."

"I'm running back to the tower. Find him. Stop him from leaving."

"Are you all that far away?"

"No. Just detain him. Do whatever you have to do. Shit. What a fucking mess." Then Bucky hung up. Steve's throat felt tight, and he looked to the ceiling.

"JARVIS? Do you know where Phil is?" he asked softly.

"Agent Coulson is in the elevator, sir."

"Wait, still?"

"It appears that he was overcome."

"Overcome?"

"He is still sitting on the floor, sir. He had descended barely three floors when he hit the stop button and proceeded to break down. I am an Artificial Intelligence, and I found it difficult to watch. Although I believe that he is calming down. His heart-rate has lowered to an acceptable level."

"Don't let the elevator get to the ground floor until Bucky gets here, and make sure no one else can summon it, either. Okay?"

"Understood, sir."

"JARVIS, you're so much easier to understand than any human."

"Thank you, captain."

Bucky's chest was damn near burning, and his legs would probably turn to jelly soon, but he'd run back to Stark Tower as fast as he could, and pounded on the ground floor button to summon the elevator. Steve had told him that he and JARVIS had trapped Phil there, and that it was up to Bucky to sort the rest of it out. Steve would wait in the spare bedroom, and vacate the floor as soon as they needed him to.

The doors opened, and Phil was talking to JARVIS, looking up at the camera. Then he sniffled and turned, and stopped when he saw Bucky.

Jesus, Phil looked awful. He was still clutching his handkerchief, the absence of white in his jacket pocket noticeable, his eyes were red-rimmed, and there was still moisture on his cheeks as well as around his eyes. The agent was the picture of misery, and Bucky had done this. Accidentally, but he felt responsible for fixing it.

Phil took a breath, and would've brushed past Bucky wordlessly if he hadn't pushed Phil back against the wall of the elevator and boxed him in. Phil opened his mouth to protest, but Bucky shushed him.

"Next time," he growled, "write the damn name of the person the present's supposed to be for."

Then he held Phil's head in place and kissed him fiercely. Didn't take long to melt him, and Bucky licked the taste of salty tears out of Phil's mouth, nuzzled his cheek, jumped for joy inside when Phil finally started to kiss him back, his hands coming to rest on Bucky's shoulders. His heart was still racing, and his lungs were still trying to catch up after the sprint, so he had to break the kiss earlier than he would've liked. But he wiped away more tears and then lowered his hands to Phil's sides.

"Steve and I… we were idiots," he said. "We thought the presents were for him. Everyone jokes that you have a crush on him, so we figured… Then I started to fall for you, and the gifts always seemed better suited to me, and I wanted to be the one you wanted but I didn't think I was, it just seemed impossible, and—"

"But it's you," Phil said, cupping Bucky's cheek. His smile was tentative, and he still looked ready to move back if he thought this was a lie. Bucky couldn't allow that.

"I didn't know that. Steve's staying with me."

"And you do everything together. So he… he has the presents meant for you."

"Nah." Bucky laughed wetly. "I kept `em. Steve didn't think it was right for him to keep them when he didn't have feelings for you."

"Convenient, since I don't have feelings for him."

"It's me you wanted all along."

Phil averted his gaze. "I know it will all be sudden, so I won't ask for anything—"

"No, no, Steve said you loved me, you can't take that back."

"I do love you, Bucky, but you—"

"I made Steve stay behind tonight," he said. "He wanted me t' do the talkin', let you down on his behalf. Wishin' I'd done that, now."

"Then I would've thought you were letting me down, and—"

"No, because I like to think I'd be a bit more specific about who was letting you down," Bucky said, rolling his eyes. "Now we gotta resolve this. Steve said he'll give us any space we need. D'you feel up to having dinner out?" Phil shook his head. "Guess not. I'm not dressed for anythin' fancy. Wanna order something? We could stay in, watch movies."

"Steve could watch with us. You owe me The Glenn Miller Story."

"So we do," Bucky said. He slipped his hands down to entwine his fingers with Phil's. "I wear the hoodie you bought. Steve got an identical one, just in case."

"You know, a lot of our conversations are starting to make more sense."

"I should've picked it up sooner—"

"No, let's just be thankful we got there in the end."

"Thank Steve for that. He worked it out. And JARVIS, for trappin' you."

"Nice as that sounds, I want to be kissing you again."

"I think I can arrange that."

What? Another secret admirer fic? For Phucky? Sigh. Talk about a limited trick pony. Or it could just be that I wanted a lighter (ha!) SA fic after the other one. The time span of angst in this was much shorter – story-wise – than in 'You Are', so there's that.

Please review!