The black SUV pulled up to Stark Tower, the iconic skyscraper extending into the clouds above them. Bucky slid out the side door first, making his way around to Gianna's side, always closest to the entrance. Opening the door, Bucky glanced around out of habit, even though this tower had more security than any other building in New York.
Sliding across the leather seat and dropping onto the ground, Gianna smiled up at Bucky. She'd changed into a faded blue sweatshirt with Yankees printed across the front, one of the only good things to come out of her last PR relationship. Her white cotton sweats cuffed at the ankles, just above the white sneakers she was most often seen in. She'd insisted that Bucky change clothes too, even after his insistence that everyone (except Tony) would be wearing sweats.
"Trust me," he'd said. "They have to wear double-layered, bulletproof suits for every training session and mission. If there's ever a chance to wear something baggy and soft, every single one of 'em is gonna take it. Especially knowing how these 'game nights' usually end up."
"Which is how?" She'd raised an eyebrow at him.
He glanced at her, a light smirk playing across his lips.
"Violently."
As usual, Gianna's combination of wide-eyed begging and sheer persistence had won. Bucky wore a gray hoodie and dark sweatpants, which she found made him look unreasonably adorable. She swallowed and forced her eyes up, averting them from the way the sweatshirt hugged his broad shoulders.
The building's grand entrance greeted them, sleek and modern, as they made their way inside. The air was alive with a constant hum, a subtle indication of the technology in every facet of the building.
Entering the elevator, the doors slid shut. Gianna leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.
"I'm about to go hang out with the Avengers." She breathed, eyes fixed on the floor. Bucky wasn't sure if she was speaking to him, or simply trying to process the information.
"The novelty wears off after one or two game nights."
Gianna gave Bucky a side-eye, as if he were dashing her fantasies about the evening to come.
He held his hands up in mock apology. "I'm just saying, once you have a barstool thrown at your head because you beat the Hulk in flip cup, you start to think twice about attending these things."
Gianna laughed, but before she could respond, the door slid open with a whoosh.
As they stepped into the softly lit penthouse, Bucky's senses filled with familiarity. The soft thump of music playing, the chorus of voices bickering, the click of glasses across Tony's incredibly expensive bartop.
"Oh hey, Sonny and Cher, glad you could make it." Tony called from behind the bar, shaking up a martini for himself and Natasha, sitting cross legged on the bar.
All the faces in the room turned to watch the duo stride over to the bar.
"Gi *hic* anna!" Wanda slurred, throwing an arm around the singer. "You caaaaaaame!" She sang, throwing her head back in the air. Gianna laughed, looking up at Bucky, who had a smug look on his face.
"Of course, I'm not gonna miss a chance to kick some Avenger ass in beer pong." Gianna winked at Bucky, who hadn't taken his eyes off her as he plopped down on the couch across from Sam and Steve.
"Woah there Britney, I don't know what you heard about us, but we don't drink that honky bullshit up here. It's champagne pong or bust. Considering this is some of Italy's finest, you're not gonna wanna bust." Tony quipped, pulling two ornate bottles of champagne from behind the bar.
Natasha took a sip of her martini then grabbed both bottles by the neck.
"Want to help me do the honors?" She said coyly, holding a bottle out to Gianna as she walked past.
Gianna took the bottle and turned to follow the redhead, wondering how she was somehow hotter in person than the action figures made her out to be. They walked through massive glass doors onto an expanse balcony, overlooking the New York skyline.
"Wait, wait, wait, don't start without me!" Peter called, tumbling out onto the balcony, barely keeping the liquid in his red solo cup. He fumbled with his phone, struggling to pull up the camera. "Ned is never gonna believe me when I tell him I got drunk with Gianna Cruz."
Pew!
A small beam of light flashed and sent Peter's phone, or at least what remained of it, soaring off the balcony.
"Definitely not, especially since you have no way to prove it." Tony called, stepping outside. He still wore his expensive suit, but the collar and tie were loosened. His right arm had red armor around it, slightly smoking from the beam.
"Aw, come on!" Peter whined.
"Sorry kid, I've got enough people questioning my ethics around minors, I don't need to confirm the rumors by proving I let them get drunk in my home."
The rest of the crew gathered on the patio, the cool night air making Gianna glad she'd chosen sweats. Bucky and Steve rounded out the group, leaning against the door frame to watch.
"Ready?" Natasha's eyes twinkled.
"After you." Gianna replied, positioning her hand on the cork.
They both twisted and applied pressure with their thumbs to the cork, and a pop was heard from each as the golden liquid spewed into the air. Both women squealed, spraying a champagne arc across the sky.
"Woooooo!" Wanda cheered, as the rest of the crew clapped and hollered, largely already intoxicated.
"Alright freaks and geeks, pair up." Tony called, waltzing back into the penthouse. "No fuck buddy partnerships allowed." He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Bucky and Gianna. "I'm talking to you too, Rogers. Don't even look at Natasha."
Gianna's eyes widened, first at the unexpected comment from Tony and second at the insinuation that Captain America and Black Widow were an item. Bucky just grinned, unphased by the chaos.
"Alright, then, we'll team up and kick both your super soldier asses." Natasha slipped her arm through Gianna's and tugged her to one side of the long wooden table.
"You're on." Steve winked. Bucky sighed and slowly took his side across the table.
"Mmkay, round one, the geriatrics of the group versus the eye candy. Seems a little creepy if you ask me." Tony snarked, downing the rest of his martini.
Twenty minutes later, Gianna's head was spinning from a combination of sweet, bubbly champagne and nonstop laughing. They'd won, Natasha carrying their team with shocking precision. Steve and Bucky had put up a good fight, once they figured out how to dial back their strength and not send the orange ping pong balls flying.
"Say hello," Natasha called to the room at large. "To your newest champagne pong champions." She put her arm around Gianna's shoulders and raised a half full champagne bottle into the air.
Cups and glasses around the room went up and Natasha took a swig straight from the bottle, then passed it to Gianna. She took a big gulp and scrunched her nose as the bubbles made her eyes water.
"Careful there, champ." Bucky patted her on the back, chuckling at her reaction.
"Howss' your ass feel?" Gianna slurred, grinning back at him.
"Feels fine. Wanna see for yourself?" Bucky joked, emboldened by the fact that she (and everyone else in the room besides himself and Steve) was clearly drunk.
She paused for a second, narrowing her eyes at him. Then, to Bucky's surprise, she reached back and grabbed a handful of his ass through his sweatpants.
"Mm'yeah. Feels fine to me." She winked as she waltzed over and plopped down in a space way too small between Wanda and Peter.
"If you need to get a room, Barnes, I've got about twenty. On this floor." Tony's voice called out.
Bucky rolled his eyes, still reeling from her touch.
"JARVIS, turn on the karaoke machine."
A long screen slid down from the ceiling and neon lights illuminated the room. Tony opened a drawer and pulled out two microphones, tossing one to Gianna. "We didn't have time to get them bedazzled, but I hope these'll still work."
Peter snatched the microphone out of the air and handed it to her, knowing her reaction time probably wasn't at it's best.
"Ugh, you must not've read my rider," Gianna called. "I can't perform under these conditions." She put her hand over her forehead and pretended to faint, falling over onto Wanda, who giggled profusely.
"And here I was thinking you weren't a diva," Sam shrugged, standing. "I'll kick us off."
Sam performed a loud, emphatically off-key version of Call Me Maybe, to which everyone danced along to. Well, almost everyone. Steve and Bucky had camped out at the barstools behind the couch, watching their intoxicated friends jump around.
"You think we're missing out on anything?" Steve asked his friend, sipping on a glass of whiskey he knew wouldn't affect him.
"Something tells me we'll be glad to have missed out in the morning." Bucky raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should cut Gianna off and get her back to the hotel before it got too late. Seeing her laugh and dance, hand in hand with Wanda and twirling beside Nat, he decided to let her have a little more fun. He'd been with her for almost three months and hadn't seen her socialize with anyone besides their tour crew the entire time. She deserves one night.
As if reading his thoughts, Steve spoke up. "Tony's got a new IV pack, basically cures a hangover instantly. Hasn't hit the market yet, but Nat swears by it."
Bucky nodded, relieved he wouldn't have to watch her try to pull off a three hour show at deafening volumes while battling a hangover.
"Bucky, Bucky!" He snapped out of his thoughts and looked over to the screen.
Gianna was standing on top of the coffee table, a champagne bottle in one hand and the microphone in her other.
"You watching?" She crooned into the microphone.
He grinned. "Always."
"Good." She turned, spinning in her socks on the glass tabletop.
"Ladees and gent'man." She pointed at the crowd surrounding the coffee table. Natasha, Wanda, Peter, and Sam were standing in front of her, forming the world's smallest mosh pit. Tony sat back in the recliner next to them.
"I'd like to dedicate thissong…" Her glassy gaze flicked up to Bucky. "To Mr. Sergeant James Buch'n Barnes. Also known as Bucky. Also known as the hottest assassin I ever woke up next to."
The girls cheered and Sam clapped as the music began to play.
Gianna's voice filled the air for the second time that night, beautiful, but singing a song Bucky didn't recognize. Something he'd heard before but couldn't place. Something about walking side to side?
As Gianna sang, she hopped off the table and waltzed towards the bar where the two super soldiers sat. She donned the bedroom eyes she typically reserved for the stage. Although they looked significantly glassier than usual this time, Bucky still felt his chest tighten.
She didn't break eye contact with him as she sidled between Bucky's legs, singing directly in front of him. Her arm reached out over his shoulder and set the champagne bottle down on the bar. He could tell it was empty by the light clink it made when she set it down. Gianna's hand trailed down over Bucky's shoulder, down his chest, and across the top of his thigh to his knee.
She spun around and bent at the hip, keeping her knees locked. Bucky had seen her do this move onstage hundreds of times, but seeing her do it mere inches from his body, feeling her bend over directly in front of where he was sitting…
He sucked in a sharp breath. The cheers and hollering of the rest of the crew sounded like it was coming from another room, his heart was pounding so loudly. Just as he was beginning to wonder if he should have worn looser pants, she began to prance back towards the coffee table.
She sat on the edge and leaned back onto her elbows, not missing a word as she slid down onto her back. Tony, seated closest to her, raised his eyebrow at Bucky as Gianna arched her back and slowly sat up.
As she finished the song, the team applauded drunkenly.
"Well, I guess now we know Buck's packin' more than just the arm." Tony said.
Bucky ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember that their charade was just that, and he'd be going back to his own hotel room tonight, alone.
The intimate party at Stark Tower was officially in full swing, just how he remembered nights like this. The air was full of cigar smoke from Tony lighting up inside, something he only ever did when he was drunk, and then would always proceed to swear at everyone else the next morning because he had to reupholster the furniture due to the smell. Peter had passed out, his torso half slid off of the couch and onto the floor. Sam had resumed karaoke and was putting on a private concert for Wanda, still jumping and dancing by the screen. Natasha had slipped behind the bar and was showing off her master mixologist skills, flipping bottles to entertain a wide-eyed Gianna.
Ever the life of the party, Bucky wasn't surprised at how easily she blended with the group, her laughter echoing throughout the room. She was witty enough to keep up with Tony but sweet enough to earn Steve's silent approval, and whatever nerves she'd had before the night began were impossible to detect now. As he leaned forward on the bar, Bucky watched her clap for Natasha who curtsied as they both descended into fits of giggles.
He'd missed these nights. As much as they gave him shit for being the quiet one or for being grouchy, he really loved being with the whole group. The family of misfits brought together by whatever shitty circumstances they'd each endured in their private life. Tony's gatherings were their time together outside of missions, away from gunfire and comm systems and debriefs. It was the most normalcy Bucky had felt in nearly one hundred years, and it was easily the one thing he missed most while being away on tour.
Before he'd taken this assignment, he'd have spent the party playing a few games, and then retreating to a corner chair to observe the rest of the night. Once everyone else started getting too drunk, he'd recuse himself and watch their fun unfold before eventually retreating to his room. It wasn't that he minded them getting drunk, it was that watching them reminded him how he couldn't, and that was enough to kill the buzz he only ever hoped to get.
But now, he had no desire to get drunk. Watching the strawberry blonde curls fall all over the counter as Gianna fell onto it in a fit of laughter, seeing her green eyes crinkle from smiling so long, watching the way she still had perfect rhythm even as she was too drunk to speak clearly, he didn't want to be anywhere but here.
Ever the vigilant protector, he kept a watchful eye on her, letting her have fun but occasionally reaching out to steady her when she spun too fast and lost her balance.
"Okay, okay," Bucky sighed, reaching out his metal arm and steadying Gianna for the third time in a matter of minutes. "Maybe it's time for a seat, huh?" He kept his hand on the small of her back as he raised his eyebrows at her.
Gianna giggled, still unsteady even when she stopped dancing. Her eyes flicked to his, then down to his lips and back again. "Okay."
Before he could process what was happening, Gianna had slid onto his lap and leaned her back into his chest. His hand was held awkwardly out to the side, hovering above her waist. Momentarily frozen, he looked up and made eye contact with Steve, who gave him a thumbs' up.
Gently, he lowered his hand so it rested on Gianna's hip.
She turned her head so she was looking up at him from her position, leaning back into his body. "You told me to have a seat." She blinked, those damn doe eyes paralyzing him again.
"You got me there, doll."
For a moment, Bucky lost his bearings. He could feel nothing but the pressure of Gianna's body on his, her laughter reverberating through his chest as she was pressed so close. She had fully leaned into him, completely relaxed and at ease. He could smell the mixture of hairspray, perfume, and champagne in her hair.
Falling into a fit of giggles over something Sam said, Gianna bent forward, nearly sliding off of his lap. Instinctively, Bucky wrapped his arm fully around her waist to pull her back up. The sudden movement caught Gianna's attention and she turned her gaze fully to Bucky.
She was seated sideways on his lap, her right shoulder against his chest. Their eyes locked, faces only inches apart. Neither of them breathed. Gianna's heavy-lidded, drunken eyes drifted down his face. They came to rest on Bucky's lips, slightly parted as he held his breath, watching her every move.
Without breaking her gaze, Gianna's right arm slid up and over Bucky's head so it rested on the back of the chair behind him. Her hand delicately rested on the back of his neck. He hoped she couldn't feel his skin ignite under her touch.
Bucky's ears rang as all the noise of the penthouse faded to a dull and distant sound. All he heard was his heartbeat, pounding in his ears, complimented by the staccato beat of hers only inches from him.
The next few moments were a blur.
A soft hand tenderly tugging his head forward.
Green eyes covered by glittery eyelids fluttering shut.
Pink, pouty lips coming towards his.
An explosion of emotions in his stomach.
Gianna's lips pressed to Bucky's, so gently he wasn't sure if she'd even realized what she was doing. After lingering for a moment, she suddenly tilted her head and leaned into the kiss, fully committing. Bucky drew in a deep breath, lifting his hand from her waist to her cheek, using the other to brace her back and pull her closer.
She tasted like champagne and strawberry lipgloss.
Gianna POV
"And get this, then she handed me a receipt for my bird costume!" Sam exclaimed, gesturing emphatically.
I burst out laughing, doubling over from where I was perched on Bucky's lap. I felt amazing. The champagne had filled me with an unfamiliar warmth, making my head fuzzy in the best way. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. Everything was funny. Everything was perfect. I let myself topple forward with the force of my laughter, all regard for my body having disappeared after the last glass.
As I slid forward, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, rock solid against me.
Bucky drew me back up as if I was weightless.
The way his ripcord muscle had jolted into my rubs momentarily knocked the breath out of me, a sobering feeling that only slightly cut through my buzz. Startled, I looked at Bucky.
God, he's pretty.
His blue eyes were turned, brows knit together in concern. He looked concerned more often than not when he looked at me. I hope that's a good thing. His hair was tucked behind his ears, and I was close enough to see the dark shadow of stubble growing along his jawline.
I had a sudden image of the way that jawline looked in the morning, cushioned by an overstuffed hotel room pillow, and my breath caught. I tried to drag myself back into this moment, this night in the penthouse suite at Tony Stark's tower, but I was powerless against my own mind.
Suddenly, I was lying in that bed again, feeling his arms around me as his comforting presence lulled me to sleep. I was standing in my dressing room, feeling his hands slid my zipper down my back. I was walking next to him at the boardwalk, seeing him smile for the first time when he won that stupid stuffed animal. I was opening the door to his sheepish smile holding lattes first thing in the morning.
I was sitting on his lap, breathing him in, staring straight into those blue eyes.
I held my breath, afraid the moment would burst like the bottle of champagne on the balcony. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, the sharp jaw, the pouty lips, ugh. My brain felt full of static. I lifted my hand behind his head and lightly touched the back of his neck. Everything about him was so strong, so firm, so sturdy. His hand still gripped my waist.
Don't even think about it. His lips were slightly parted.
You're drunk. He smelled so damn good.
Everyone's watching. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. I've wondered for three straight months now.
You're going to have to deal with this tomorrow. I don't want him to ever move his hand.
Fuck it.
I leaned in, pulling him towards me, and pressed my lips to his. They were warm, soft, tasted like whiskey. I paused, soaking in the moment I'd be lying if I said I hadn't daydreamt about on all those long bus rides and flights. The real thing blew those daydreams straight into oblivion. I was hooked.
I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. He responded immediately, parting his lips further and cupping my cheek. I felt his metal hand on the small of my back, something that had become all too familiar. I pressed against him, craving proximity.
I couldn't have pulled myself away if I had been stone cold sober.
My hand was in his hair, his tongue brushed mine, my heartbeat felt louder than Madison Square Garden. I didn't care who was watching, I don't know how long it went on.
All I knew was that I was completely, hopelessly infatuated with James Buchanan Barnes, and there was no way I could go back to pretending like I wasn't.
Shit.