Let's get the whole gang involved... shall we?
He's gotten more comfortable being in the common area, hanging out for more than the few minutes it takes to swing through and hunt down a snack. But it's still a place that feels strangely…unwelcoming to him. Either the room is empty, which means that Bucky remains on edge the entire time, just waiting for the strange voice in the walls to call out to him and ask if he needs any assistance. Or there are… people around.
Some people, of course, are easier to handle than others. Natasha, for example… he doesn't trust her one iota, but he understands her completely, and that makes for an oddly comfortable sort of silent interaction. Clint's fine too…never silent, but the man has also never pressured Bucky for anything. He simply chatters away – and more often than not, his stories are pretty entertaining – and he never seems to take offense at Bucky's lack of participation in conversations.
And then there's Tony, master of the I don't know you, I don't like you, and I don't trust you side-eye glare. Yeah, it's safe to say that if Tony's in the common area, Bucky's turning on his heel and marching back out. Bruce mostly keeps to himself, which Bucky respects. And Sam, who doesn't even live at the tower, yet somehow seems to always be here… well Sam is Sam.
And Steve. After nearly six months at the tower, Bucky and Steve have fallen back into a close relationship, but it's different from what their friendship had been before. They're different people now, sure, no longer idealistic kids just trying to make the world a better place. But it's more than that. Bucky had been remembering a lot about his life before – both as Bucky Barnes and as the Winter Soldier – but there are still so many things that are so very fuzzy for him.
But Steve, he remembers everything. There's an odd sort of pressure that spending time with Steve always brings. And while it's usually bearable at home when they're alone – probably in part because Bucky had followed his therapist's advice and told Steve how he felt – when he's in a group setting with his dear old friend, he somehow feels like he never quite measures up. Maybe it's because Steve loves telling old stories, vying with Barton tale for tale, and even though Bucky is often in the stories, he very rarely remembers them. Or maybe it's just because he can see how comfortable Steve is here, with all of his new, (mostly) mentally stable friends.
The point is, being in the common room for more than 5 minutes at a time is one of the things Bucky dreads most in this world. But the possibility of a chance encounter with the increasingly busy and oddly elusive Dr. Tessa Sullivan, would've been enough to get to him brave almost any hostile locale.
Since their night together – that first night, which she still refuses to call a date – they'd managed to be alone together a whopping total of two times. Each time required careful planning, not only to avoid raising suspicion, but also because Tessa's schedule rarely left time for anything… fun.
At the first opening in her calendar, she told her assistant that she needed some time to go over the Avengers' confidential medical files, which meant she was not to be interrupted. At all. By anyone. No matter what. Then she sent Claire off on an errand and had the voice in the walls beckon Bucky to her office. Once he got there they locked the door and fucked like horny, greedy teenagers on the surprisingly comfortable futon in the corner. I sleep here a lot, she'd told him when he sprawled out on the unfolded sofa, refusing to move.
Two days later, he stood for 40 minutes around the corner, just outside of her office until her assistant finally left. Then he swept in without knocking, locked the door behind him, and… well… fucked her like a horny, greedy teenager on the futon in the corner.
He's planning on running the same op this afternoon.
But first…breakfast. He knows that Tessa often grabs something to eat on her way into the lab, so when he enters the common room, presumably in search of fruit, he's not at all surprised to find her there. What does surprise him is the hard, swift slap to the ass that she lays on him the moment he moves through the door.
"Jesus," he comments, turning to face her. "You greet everyone who comes in here like that?"
Her face is split by a wide, shit-eating grin, and seeing that lights a fire in his chest. "Yep," she says winking at him.
He assumes, given her actions that no one else is in the room, but he takes a moment to scan the area just the same before following her over to the kitchenette. She reaches up to open the cabinet that Tony keeps stocked with cereal and Pop-Tarts, and when she does so, her shirt rides up, revealing a strip of pale skin above her jeans. He leans in quickly and cups his metal hand over her exposed side, chuckling when she lets out a little shriek and flinches at the cold touch. But she doesn't actually pull away. Instead, she leans into his palm as she shrinks back down, Pop-Tarts in hand.
"That's not breakfast," he whispers into the skin at the back of her neck. She tilts her head to let his lips get closer and he moves his hands to cradle her hips.
"Sure it is," she tells him, voice calm and level, even though he can feel her body tighten in his grip, feel her breath hitch when begins kissing her neck. "Says so on the box." He pulls away and grabs the box from her. "Hey!"
"This," he says, holding up the Pop-Tarts as she spins around to face him, "is garbage."
Her hands fall to her hips and she stares him down. "You probably think all 21st century food is garbage."
"Only the stuff with…" he flips the box around and reads off some of the ingredients. "High fructose corn syrup, cracker meal, and… niacinamide?" His once amused smile quickly turns into a confused and concerned grimace, and it's so reminiscent of a bewildered toddler that she can't help but bark out a laugh.
He drops the box on the counter behind him, giving a disgusted shake of the head as he does so.
"Let me take you to breakfast," he says, leaning into her as the laughter settles.
"To breakfast? Is that some kind of pick-up line? Like you want to take me to breakfast tomorrow? Wink, wink."
"No," he says, taking her hand in his flesh-and-bone one. "Unless you want to go tomorrow?"
"And before then?"
His eyes tick to either side, making sure they're still alone, before his leans forwarded and softly kisses her. "Uuuungh," she moans out, pulling away. An exaggerated frown takes over face as she says, "I can't. I have to get to the lab, and I'm sure I'll be there all day."
"Then let me take you to dinner tonight."
"What's your obsession with feeding me?" she asks with coy, crooked smile.
"I need to take you out. On a proper date."
"You're such a gentleman," she mocks.
"Hey, I like… fooling around with you. I really like it. But I'd feel a lot better about things if you'd let me take you out. Officially."
The smile disappears from her face as she takes in his words. "Okay," she says finally. "I'll let you take me out."
"Thank you." He kisses her again and she leans in and presses her warm body up against him, forcing him back a step. He hears the crinkle of metallic paper as she continues to kiss him, her left hand in his hair, her right… mysteriously absent.
A wide grin splits his face as she slowly pulls away, and he brings his hand down and wraps his metal fingers around her wrist. "Seriously?" he laughs, lifting her hand up and with it, the pack of Pop-Tarts.
"Dinner's a long way off," she smirks at him. Then, her face falling, "Crap. I can't tonight. I have to run some time-sensitive experiments." She runs her fingertips down his arm. "Maybe tomorrow?"
He takes hold of her hand once she starts tracing the outlines of the plates at his wrist. He's still not too fond her touching the metal arm, at least not like that, not in a soft, seductive way. "You're gonna make me wait?" he asks in a low, deep tone.
She smiles and lets out a slight, almost childlike giggle. "Yep."
They both turn to the entranceway, heads swiveling in unison, as soft murmurs emanate from the hall. The moment he hears Sam's loud, vivacious laugh, he drops Tessa's hand and almost growls.
"So serious," she mocks, tearing open her package and taking a giant bite of raw strawberry Pop-Tart before turning to leave. "I'll see you later." She nods a hello to the group as they enter, leaning over to give Sam his always requested high five, and saunters off to work, leaving a grumpy looking Bucky all by his lonesome.
"What was that?" Sam asks with a coy smile.
Bucky doesn't even realize he's talking to him until Steve comes up and shoves him with his shoulder. He looks up to see the man staring at him with an amused smirk. "What?"
"You were just following her with your eyes, all the way out."
"I was not."
Clint chuckles, moving over next to Sam and throwing a glance behind him as though Tessa's still there. "You were definitely checking Doc out," he says.
"He really was," Sam laughs.
"He really was," Clint repeats, folding his arms over his chest and looking straight at Bucky.
Natasha steps in, popping open a bottle of water and leaning onto the counter next to them. "So what? She's got a nice ass. Let him look."
Sam shrugs. "She's got more than just a nice ass." He turns to Clint, but keeps Bucky in his periphery as he says, "But, oh the things I'd do for that fine ass…" Clint smirks and holds back a laugh. "I'd take her and bend her over –"
"Sam…" Steve begins to chide.
But before he can so much as finish the syllable, Bucky leaps forward and grabs Sam by the collar, growling in his ear one simple word… "No."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam issues out, holding his hands up in surrender. "At ease, soldier."
Steve's already got Bucky by the shoulder, slowly peeling him off his friend. Clint steps up, unable to keep the laughter at bay. "Relax, man. He's just messing with you."
"Yeah," a completely unfazed Natasha confirms. "Besides, if he so much as tried to bend Tess over anything, she'd kill him."
"I like to think she'd take pity on me and just kick my ass a little." Nat raises a doubting brow at him in response.
"It's okay," Steve says in Bucky's ear, patting him roughly on the chest as they both take a few steps back from the others. "This is just their way of… being friendly. You know? Poking fun."
Bucky turns to him and rolls his eyes. Yes, Steve, he thinks. I know how friends work. But even so…he turns to Sam and shoves a pointed finger in his chest. "Don't talk about her like that again."
"Damn, man," he replies, actually winking at the irate former assassin. "You got it bad."
Clint comes up to Bucky and claps him on the shoulder. "You know, if you want to ask her out, I can give you some tips." He turns to face Steve. "No offense, Cap, but I know that talking to girls isn't exactly your area of expertise."
"He talks to me all the time," Natasha quips.
Steve gets a sour look on his face. "I can talk to women. I do talk to women."
"That's what I just said. Actually, he talks to Tessa all the time too." She slides over to Bucky's left and leans in, whispers almost conspiratorially, "I think he's been working on asking her out for about two years now."
Bucky's pretty sure that's not true, but he feels his eyes widen just the same, only now realizing that there's a very real possibility that he's stepping on toes here.
"That's not…" Steve rambles. "I'm not… interested… in Tessa. We're friends. She's one of my best friends."
"Good," Clint beams, as he steals Nat's water. "Then you won't mind us setting her up with Barnes."
Now it's Sam's turn to go wide-eyed. "Wait, we're setting them up? I thought we were just making fun of him."
"What's the matter, Sammy? You jealous?" Barton mocks. Sam gives him a little shove, causing him to spill water down his chin. He scoffs as he swipes at his face. "You had your chance anyway."
"What does that mean?" Bucky asks, words leaving his mouth before he's able to realize that it's probably not the best idea to engage in this conversation.
"Sam asked Tessa out once and she said no," Steve says plainly. But his eyes are alight with stifled laughter as he glances over at Sam.
"She didn't say 'no'," he defends. "She said that she valued my friendship too much to risk losing it."
"Yeah, that's definitely a not interested," Natasha says with a grin.
"Don't take it personally, Sam." Clint starts. "You're just not her type." He gives Bucky an assessing look, eyes moving up and down his frame. "But this one…"
"How the hell would you know what her type is?"
"Doc and I go way back," he replies with a quick swig. He chucks the now empty water bottle in the bin and turns back to the group. "I met her ex in Minsk. Sort of."
"You did?" Natasha leans forward, genuinely interested. "You never told me that. How did I not know that?"
"I've never even heard her talk about an ex," Steve mutters almost to himself.
"Yeah, well… it didn't end well." He shuffles his feet into the wood floor, head down like he's suddenly sorry he said anything and trying to think of a way back out. "Doesn't matter," he settles on, before pointing back at Bucky. "Point is… this is her type. Trust me."
Bucky shakes his head and lets out a long sigh. "Okay, enough."
"I'm just trying to help," Barton laughs, holding his hands up apologetically as Bucky breezes past him on his way out of the common area. He turns back to the others and raises his eyebrows, voice taking on a serious tone. "Do not tell her I mentioned the ex."
Nat throws him an incredulous glance. "Oh I'm telling her about every bit of this conversation." She too turns to leave, tossing over her shoulder as she goes, "And I'm pretty sure we don't need to play matchmaker to get those two together."