For the Love of the Game // Bucky Barnes

Oneshot - The Fight

You knew you shouldn't have looked, but it just kept vibrating—one after another. Bucky didn't usually get so many messages, not on Friday nights at least. Those were reserved for you, and he let the team know that as soon as you started dating.

You were more worried than anything. What if something happened with his family, or one of your friends? Maybe you were missing something—plans that both of you had forgotten about. And Bucky was in the bathroom; if it was an emergency, there wasn't any time to wait for him to come back.

So you picked it up, the screen quickly unlocking when your face met the camera. And just as quickly, you wished you hadn't looked.

You busy tonight?

Come on Bucky. I thought we were friends again. :(

You said you would think about it! Completely ignoring me is not thinking about it.

I'll bring you a Christmas sweater if you come to the dorms rn ;)

Uncomfortable tears pricked your eyes as you read each message; whether they were from hurt or anger, you couldn't tell. Stephanie's name glared at you from the top of the screen, and the texts just kept loading. The more you scrolled up, the more there were.

You didn't take the time to read the rest—you'd seen enough. The fact that you had no idea he was still talking to her was enough to cut through your skin. When you heard the bathroom door open and the sink shut off, you knew what emotion to assign to your tears. Betrayal. Because Bucky had said he was done with those people. Not only the people, but the parties too. So why the hell was an old fling texting him about some dorm kickback?

"I was thinkin' we could get some hot chocolate before we head out," Bucky called from down the hall. His footsteps got closer. "But you gotta make sure you wear those boots my Ma got you, because the sidewalk's gonna be—"

Your glistening waterline stopped him in his tracks. You had stood from the couch and had his phone hanging from your fingers. He took a step forward, and you took one back.

"Doll? What's goin' on? You okay?" He eyed his phone, but his expression gave nothing away. The ignorance infuriated you.

"I don't know, you tell me, Bucky. You have somewhere else to be tonight?"

"Of course I don't. Tell me what's got you so worked up."

You huffed at the concern in his voice, tossing the offensive item on the couch without care. "Don't think I need to tell you. You should already know."

Bucky took a cautious step forward, leaning down to grab it, but not breaking eye contact with you until he did. The screen lit up the confusion on his face first, and then continued to light up the panic. He scrolled down a little to see the most recent messages, and his eyes shot to you in alarm.

"Oh, doll, this isn't—"

"It's not what it looks like, right? That's what you're going to say?"

"Yes, but it's not. She—we had to work on a project for a class." The phone looked awkward in his hands; he held it out in front of him as if it were foreign.

You let an unwanted laugh slip past your lips. "A project? That's why you're 'considering' some dorm party?"

He tried to get closer to you, fingers extending in a fruitless reach, but you retreated just as quickly as the first time. His eyes bounced between yours at a head aching speed. His head shook, with furrowed brows.

"I only said that to get her off my back s'all. I told you I was done with that."

"So nothing to hide then?" you asked, crossing your arms defensively.