For the Love of the Game // Bucky Barnes

Part Five

Bucky couldn't hear a single thing.

After years and years of being a star baseball player, he was used to the crowd. He was used to the screaming and the announcers and the music. Normally, he could tune it all out—focus in on the warmup and his teammates. It didn't take much effort; he'd had lots of practice after all.

But tonight, Bucky couldn't hear a single thing, and it was because you weren't there.

You'd missed games before. Had a paper due that you waited too long to start, or gotten sick and couldn't stand being outside for too long. But Bucky wasn't in love with you back then. He was now.

He had begged you not to go. After Beck left the bookstore with a haughty skip in his step, Bucky had turned to you, voice low and eyes pleading.

I know you're pissed at me, he said. But please don't do this. Those guys are bad news, doll, and I can't come with you to make sure you're safe.

You rolled your eyes. I'm not sure if you know this, Barnes, but I got by just fine before you. I can take care of myself. If he was such bad news, then maybe you should've said something when I asked.

Your stubbornness was one of the reasons he fell for you, but he wished you would listen to him—just this once.

I know, I know. He was trailing you out of the bookstore. But don't go just to make me mad. It won't end well and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you.

I don't make any of my decisions based on you, so you can go ahead and clear your conscience right now, you lied. Your stomach was rolling.

Okay, you don't, he placated. Hey, c'mon just look at me. Please.

It went back and forth like that for a while, the two of you arguing on the sidewalk outside of the bookstore with the door creaking each time someone walked out. Well, you were arguing. Bucky was begging.

It ended with you going back to your dorm, alone, and Bucky feeling even more hopeless than before. This wasn't just a matter of you forgiving him anymore, he didn't feel like you were safe. He had been to those parties before. They were loud and sweaty and filled with too many people taking too many things to get them going.

It was no place for you; no place for his best girl.

And the worst part was that it was his fault. He was almost positive that you were only invited because of his slip up in front of Zemo, when he had chased you down the beach a few weeks ago in his drunken stupor. Just like he suspected, Zemo got interested and you were going to have to pay for it.

So Bucky didn't hear when Steve called to him from first base, and he couldn't hear the loud speaker when the national anthem began. All his ears could handle was the constant ringing that started the second he saw Natasha sitting by herself in the stands. He thought there had been a chance you listened to him, a chance he wasn't going to spend this entire game worried out of his mind.

Well, he was wrong.

"Barnes! You ready to get your head outta your ass and play some baseball?" Fury whacked the back of Bucky's head, his hat resting low on his forehead.

He fixed the bill, pulling his eyes from Natasha's seat. "Uh, yeah. Can I just have one second?" He was running up the stadium steps before his coach could reply.

Natasha looked unamused by his sudden appearance. "Yes?"

"Y/n. Where is she?" Bucky pressed.

"Bucky, I thought I told you to leave her alone? If she doesn't want to—"