Thank you for the reviews! I see a couple questions about whether Rumlow will appear. He will, don't worry :) - strike
Whether Bucky thinks I'm cute or not, there are certainly a lot of people who find him easy on the eyes.
You just have to spend a few minutes in the lobby to overhear students talking in hushed tones about the "hot guy with the metal hand". I'm not sure how word got around, but by the middle of the week he seems to be a talking point in the department.
I'd ask him about it… if I could get a single minute with him. He's kept his usual habit of avoiding the house when I'm there.
The attention follows him to class—even when he's deliberately tried to sit in the farthest corner of the lecture hall. I glance up more than once during the mid-lecture break to find students trying to pull him into a conversation, and it brings a smile to my face. He looks mildly uncomfortable, but there's nothing I can do. He'll just have to hope everyone loses interest fairly soon.
As the usual buzz of chatter fills the room at the end of class, I'm packing up my things when I hear footsteps approaching the podium.
Expecting a student, I glance up only to practically do a double-take at the man standing before me.
"Well done. The students near me were only falling a little bit asleep." His lips twist into a smirk.
Damn, damn, damn.
When Dr. Nikolav said Riley was in town, he never warned me of the possibility that he might sit in on one of my classes. I scramble to retrace any mistakes I might've made, embarrassed that he saw me at my most candid state.
He looks different. I mean, that should be obvious… he was in his mid-twenties last time I saw him, and he must be at least 31 now. But his hair is a much darker shade of brown, and he's somehow more handsome than before.
I'm gawking, aren't I? I tear my gaze away, regaining my composure.
"You look surprised to see me." He raises one quizzical eyebrow.
"I didn't know what to expect after all this time." I shrug sheepishly, "You're looking… well."
"I'm glad to hear it." His eyes rake over me audaciously, "You're looking good, yourself."
Was Riley always this flirty?
"I'm not surprised that they asked you to fill in for Dr. Singh. You always showed a lot of potential when it came to teaching others." He chuckles.
I feel unusually self-conscious about the praise. The heat rises to my ears, and I shrug again, unable to find a verbal response that won't give away how flustered I am.
"Nothing to say? You're too modest for your own good." He props one elbow on the podium, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he watches me. All the warning bells are going off at once in my brain.
No, Elise, no. That crush is over. It ended the moment he left to study in the UK, when I didn't have the courage to tell him how I felt. I'm not about to reignite that flame.
"It's uh… it's great to see you again Riley, but is there something you need?" I glance at the clock. It's five past nine, and most of the students have left by now. Just a few stragglers remain… and Bucky.
Riley laughs, and it surprises me.
"Look, I understand. It's not the best time to have a chat. I thought it would be nice to drop in and see one of my favourite former-students teach." He offers a lopsided, apologetic smile, and my traitorous heart beats a little faster.
"You're here just for the nostalgia?" I smile back, despite myself.
Damn his flirty conversation style! It's so hard not to get sucked in.
"Also to see if Dr. Nikolav had a chance to invite you to my lecture this Friday." He adds, "I'd like a chance to speak to you about my work—and yours, if you have the time."
"Yeah, of course. I'll see if I can make it."
My eyes flicker briefly towards Bucky, and I find him making his way down the lecture hall stairs with a coil-bound notebook in hand.
Huh. He took notes.
"Fantastic. I look forward to it." Riley smiles, following my gaze. He casts me a furtive, questioning look as Bucky reaches the final step.
"This is James. He's a friend of mine and Dr. Nikolav's." I explain. There's a moment of silence as the two men evaluate each other.
"Riley West." Riley is the first to extend an expectant hand, "Any friend of Elise is a friend of mine."
Bucky shakes it, mumbling an obligatory nice to meet you without offering any kind of formal introduction in return. His friendship isn't so easy to earn, of course.
If Riley was put off by that brusque introduction, he doesn't show it. He bids us a polite good night and exits the lecture hall, and I'm left alone with a silent, grumpy winter soldier.
He keeps his eyes down as we walk home, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, the notebook tucked under one of his arms. I've stayed quiet until now, thinking maybe he'd say something first… but if I don't say something soon, he's going to run off without ever telling me why he's so irritated.
"Did the students bother you?" I break the silence with the harmless question, but he just looks at me blankly before returning his gaze to the sidewalk.
"No."
If not that, then what?
"So… did you take notes?" I gesture to the notebook, "Anything you want clarified?"
"They're in Russian."
I frown, not because he anticipated I'd ask to see the notes, but because he's obviously annoyed about something. We're almost at the front door, and I'm running out of indirect options.
"Look—you're clearly angry. Did something happen? Did I do something?" I cut him off on the sidewalk, stepping in front of him to look him square in the eye.
He stares at me coolly, then looks away.
"It's stupid."
"It's not." I protest, "Tell me."
He hesitates, his jaw clenching.
"The things you do for me… would you do them for anyone?" He pauses, "For any man?"
I feel like time has momentarily stopped, the silence stretching into my mind as I struggle to find an answer. I suppose it was inevitable that he'd realize my growing feelings for him. I'm a scientist by trade, not an actress.
Still, I didn't expect this moment to come so soon… what brought it up?
"What do you think?" I deflect with a question.
He raises his gaze to meet mine, his eyes searching my face for an answer. When he doesn't reply for a long time, I can tell he's not satisfied with the way I evaded his question.
Well, I'm pretty sure that confessing to him would just make things 110% more complicated between us. I have to find some way to answer him though.
"No, I wouldn't. You're… special."
I watch his face expectantly, but there's no change in his sober expression—not even a twitch of the eyebrow.
"I don't know how to process that right now." He replies quietly, glancing away.
A long silence passes.
"You don't have to figure it out overnight." I shrug.
"I don't want to get in your way if there's someone you want to be with."
"There isn't anyone. Why would you think—" I suddenly remember how flirty Riley was back there. Wait, that's what this is about? Is he... is he jealous?
"I'm not interested in Riley, Bucky."
"He's interested in you." He replies flatly.
"I'm sure he's just playing around." I assure him, "And anyway, he's just here until Friday's guest lecture. He'll be going back to England after that."
He still looks skeptical, but I'm not sure there's any way I can convince him short of simply confessing that I have feelings for him. I don't think he's prepared to hear that right now, anyway.
"Sorry." He frowns, "For being selfish, I mean."
"Honestly, I think it's cute." I smile, "Or… what was it…Ty Milaya?"
His eyebrows arch ever so slightly, the surprise evident in his eyes.
My smile widens slowly into a grin. There goes his advantage. The tables have turned.
"You're not supposed to ask Dr. Nikolav. That's cheating." He murmurs, closing the distance between us as he steps forward. The cool scent of his aftershave overwhelms my senses, and I hold my breath, temporarily silenced by his proximity.
The anticipation of a kiss lingers in the air, and I wouldn't be able to break away from his piercing blue eyes, even if I wanted to.
My heart is racing a mile a minute as his face nears mine. He pauses, observing me contemplatively as a smirk tugs at one corner of his lips… then leaves me speechless on the porch with butterflies in my stomach and the notebook in my hands.
The tables have not turned.