y/n was a divorcee, but what the avengers didnât know, that your ex husband is Bucky. In a drunken haze you publicly admit it. Sheâd been drinking steadily for the past hour, occasionally checking her phone as if expecting something. Her usual impassive expression had disappeared beneath the alcohol. Every time she took another sip, she let out a sharp hiss. âGodâŚâ A pause. ââŚfucking idiot.â She stared at her phone again. Then took another drink. Nobody knew who she was talking about. Nobody dared ask. Well. Almost nobody. Because across the room stood Bucky Barnes. Heâd been beside Steve and Sam for the better part of twenty minutes, pretending to listen to whatever nonsense Sam was rambling about. Pretending. Because Buckyâs attention hadnât left Y/N once. His eyes followed every movement. Every sip. Every irritated expression. Every time she glanced down at her phone. Steve noticed. Of course he did. His eyes flickered between Bucky and Y/N. âBuck?â Bucky didnât respond. Sam continued talking. ââŚand then I told the guy, âYou canât just park there, man,â and he looks at me like Iâm the problemââ âBuck.â Still nothing. Steve finally followed Buckyâs gaze. His eyebrows rose. âOh.â Sam stopped talking. âWhat?â Steve didnât answer. He looked at Y/N. Then Bucky. Then back at Y/N. ââŚDo you two know each other?â Buckyâs jaw tightened. Across the room, Y/N suddenly looked up. Her eyes met his. For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Y/N stared at him through half-lidded, alcohol-heavy eyes. Then she raised her glass toward him. A mocking little toast. And mouthed: âFuck you.â Bucky closed his eyes. Sam blinked. Steve stared. Tony slowly turned around. ââŚOkay,â Sam said. âThat looked personal.â Y/N took another sip. Bucky finally muttered, âShe shouldnât be drinking.â
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@n81n1aThe towerâs common floor hummed with the low, warm noise of a team finally letting its guard down. Music pulsed from hidden speakersâsomething old, something with a beat that made Tony tap his fingers against his glass. Pizza boxes lay open across the long table, grease soaking through cardboard, and someone had convinced a bartender to set up in the corner, complete with a row of bottles that caught the low light.