Steve really needed the baseball team to win the next home game.

Tony Stark didn't seem to understand his dilemma.

It was both Steve and Tony's off period, which meant they were monitors in the cafeteria for the time being. When the blond had relayed what had happened after the game yesterday, the chemistry teacher banged his fist on the table and proceeded to laugh.

Steve sat there, flustered. "What? Would you quit laughing at me? It really isn't all that funny, Stark."

"'Course it's not." He flashed Steve one of his million dollar smiles. "But damn, you took the opportunity and fucking ran with it."

He gave Tony a stern look. "Language."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Whatever. My point still got across. You saw the opening to make a move, and you did. You are smooth."

Steve buried his face in his hands. "That's what I was worried about. I think I may have overstepped my boundaries. He looked shocked when I suggested my side of the bet. Geez, that was stupid of me."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Tony insisted as he clapped Steve on the shoulder. The blond groaned, brooding in his seat. "I mean, if he had the balls to dish you out for coffee, then I'm sure he wouldn't mind being dished out something of equal or greater value."

"…I guess so."

"Oh, c'mon, Rogers! Don't give me that BS. The two of you were bound to ask each other out at one point."

The bell had saved Steve from further embarrassment. He sarcastically wished that he and Tony had had more time to speak about his dilemma, however, the blond stated that he really had to run. Couldn't be late for his sixth period AP Unites States history class, now, could he?

Tony had yelled something after him, however, Steve hadn't heard him. The blond wound his way through the narrow halls, back to his classroom. A few students had been waiting outside the door when he arrived, as the door had been locked. Steve unlocked the door, and his students hurried to their seats. One of his students, Peter Parker (who was also on the baseball team), plopped down in his desk in the front. The brunet had eyed something on Steve's desk. Peter pointed to The Book Thief.

"Did Mr. Barnes give that to you, Coach?" Peter asked.

Steve furrowed his brow. "He did…why?"

The brunet smirked. "I saw it on his desk ninth period yesterday. And, like, a couple minutes before the end of the period he said he had something to do, and he had that book in his hands."

The history teacher eyed the boy for a moment. What was he getting at, exactly? Steve shrugged internally and blinked at Peter.

"Practice goes until five today, Parker," Steve stated nonchalantly

"What?! Why? We don't have another game until next Tuesday!"

"That's true, but you also have another home game next Friday." And boy, did he need to shape these boys up before then. Otherwise, a certain Mr. Barnes would not have the pleasure of taking him out to dinner.

XXX

Steve blew his whistle to signal the start of the running drills.

To be fair, the boys had started out strong. He had asked them to run two perimeters of the campus. About three quarters of the way through the first perimeter, however, they had started to lose steam.

Steve was running with them (albeit, he was ahead of them) when Peter wheezed from behind him. "Coach…are we…are we really doing another perimeter? We usually…only do…one of these damn things."

The rest of his teammates muttered and cursed in agreement. Steve glanced over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at the boys. "Man up," he stated. Then, he added as an afterthought: "Watch your language."

The team responded in sporadic groans and mutterings of protest. They had managed to run the rest of the first perimeter and miraculously made their way through the second one. The boys all but collapsed when Steve had called out to them that they were finished. The only one who seemed as if he could go for another to perimeters was Pietro Maximoff, who had made himself known as a track star. Steve asked that they stretched out before diving into their other drills.

XXX

Bucky paused from grading tests when he heard the distant shriek of a whistle. He glanced out the window, smiling to himself. The disadvantage to the location of the garage was that it was so far away from Steve's history classroom. The advantage to the location of the garage was that it was so close to the sports fields. More importantly, when he looked outside the window next to his desk, Bucky had a perfect view of the baseball diamond.

Had he purposely positioned his desk next to this particular window?

Maybe.

When Bucky looked out the window, he saw Steve calling out instructions and pointers to the boys as they took their places, as if doing a scrimmage. The brunet scrunched up his brow. He was pretty sure that Steve had never done a scrimmage during practice. Like, ever. Sure, they had scrimmaged against other teams. But usually during regular practices after school, the blond had had them focus on one or two particular skills, like pitching and batting, or playing outfield and stealing bases. Bucky bit his lower lip in thought.

"If the team wins the next home game, then you have to take me out to dinner."

He nearly flung his red pen across the spacious room in realization. He didn't, but he did drop it suddenly. Was Steve pushing the team just for the sake of them winning, or was he pushing them to win so that Bucky would take him out to dinner? The brunet bit the inside of his cheek as he blushed.

What was the big deal anyway? Even if the team lost Steve still scored a date with Bucky anyways. It was a win-win bet. Why was he making his poor team suffer through extra drills?

Bucky chuckled to himself. Because Steve loved challenges and bets and competitions; he refused to lose (if he could help it). He constantly got mixed up in bets with Tony Stark; the blond usually won. Bucky wasn't so sure how this bet would end up. If the team somehow miraculously won, the brunet would be in a sticky situation as he didn't really have anything nice enough to wear out to dinner.

He knew he wouldn't be able to focus on grading his class's test anymore, so he scooped them up and threw them in a folder. Bucky tucked it under his arm and got up to leave. When he crossed the threshold of the door he nearly jumped out of his skin due to Natasha Romanov standing right outside.

"Jesus, Nat," Bucky breathed as he clutched his chest. "Don't scare me like that, I nearly had a heart attack."

The redhead stared at him as if she hadn't heard him. She spoke as if she hadn't heard him either. "Steve was talking about you earlier."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat. That could've meant a whole lot of things; Steve could have talked highly of him, or badly of him. The brunet found the latter hard to come across; Steve was the literal embodiment of a golden retriever puppy. But what was it that the blond could've said about him? Did he even want to know?

"What'd he say?" Bucky asked cautiously.

Nat smirked. Oh no, Bucky worried internally. "He was talking with Stark earlier, and he had said that Steve was worried about some bet you guys made; something about 'overstepping personal space' or something."

The brunet chuckled and bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into a fit of laughter. Of course only Steve would worry about something like that. Bucky ended up laughing out loud. Leave it to Steve to worry about the little things.

Natasha quirked an eyebrow in questioning. "I really don't understand what you find so hilarious. Your potential boyfriend slash potential husband was worried about being too personal. Isn't that a little concerning?"

"Maybe something related to a personal issue ruined his last relationship; how should I know?" Bucky inquired as he and Natasha started walking out of the building together. "Besides, Nat, I've never actually been on a date with him before, unless you want to count all the times I go to his classroom to give him a book."

She shrugged. "What was this bet you made with him?"

He felt the color rise to his cheeks. "I bet that if the baseball team loses their next home game, that he'd have to take me out for coffee. And he bet that if they won, I'd have to take him out to dinner."

"Well, I know what you're getting next weekend, and it's not getting laid," Natasha huffed. Bucky choked on his own spit as he processed her words. "Coffee, Bucky, really? That's the best you could come up with?"

The pair had made it outside to one of the side entrances. Bucky pulled out his keys and held his arms out as if in defeat. "To be fair, I sorta panicked. Don't tell me you've never panicked when talking to Clint."

Nat's eyes went wide in surprise, although nothing else in her expression portrayed this. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again with her finger held up in objection, and closed it again in a tight line. She scowled. "You win this round, Barnes."

He smirked. "When do I not?" And without letting her quip back, Bucky sat himself in the driver's seat of his car and brought the engine to life. He sarcastically waved to Natasha as he drove past her, the redhead's arms crossed over her chest. The brunet smirked in triumph.

On his way out, Bucky drove past the baseball diamond, and slowed so that he wouldn't fucking crash (he didn't crash last time! He almost did!) as he looked. Even from a distance, Bucky could see Steve standing with his hands on his hips as the boys did what looked like pitching and catching drills. He almost felt the urge to roll down the window to call out to the blond, to ask him something along the lines of giving him a ride home, but he fought it. It was only three thirty, and Bucky had heard that their practice would be running long today by one whining Peter Parker. The brunet, instead, drove away; trying—but miserably failing to—keep his eyes off the built blond.

Next Thursday couldn't come soon enough.