The Grumpy Sunshine Series

The Walk of Shame

Originally Posted: 06/26/2022

"I'm out of clothes," Bucky quietly complains, his voice muffled as he speaks into your his pillow.

"Just grab one of my sweaters," you suggest, tracing little patterns into the arm strewn over you. "Or stay here forever."

"Tempting," he chuckles, lifting his head off the pillow to face you. "But I have to go. And so do you."

"Maybe if we're really quiet, they'll forget about us. I'm mean, do you really think they'll notice if I'm not there?"

"Will Steve notice if you're not on a three person assignment?" he rhetorically asks, reluctantly pulling the warm blanket off of him. "I'm going to say that that's a definite yes."

He sighs, sitting up at the edge of the bed to stare at the slowly growing pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room, but it's gone. He groans, remembering how he left his clothes in the laundry room as an incentive to actually do his laundry.

It wasn't until a few days ago that he realized that he probably had more clothes here than in his own room. Now, he doesn't even have the option of putting on his wrinkled clothes from the night before.

Most nights, but especially after missions, he'd simply come to your room instead of his own. You would always convince him to stay the night instead of going back into his room to get fresh clothes. You'd tell him he could go back tomorrow morning. It was always so easy to forget why it was a bad idea, and every morning he had to face this problem. But today, the consequences of his own actions seem a little bit worse.

He looks at your closet, slumping his shoulders as he futile scans your clothes for something half-way appropriate for him. He checks the time - it's probably early enough that no one else will be up. No one to see him do his, now daily, walk of shame. He huffs, grabbing the largest sweater he sees, knowing it won't even matter.

He reluctantly slips the sweater on - it's just big enough that it doesn't burst at the seams the second he puts it on. "I hope you're happy."

"Me?" you gasp, your lips pulling in to contain your humorous grin and laughter at the sight of Bucky in your clothes. "What did I do?"

"You're the one 'Oh, just stay here for the night' 'You can grab more clothes tomorrow,'" he says, doing a poor imitation of your voice.

"Tomorrow was three days ago!" you remind him, gesturing to the clothes on the floor. "I told you to do your laundry."

"Yeah-" he falters, his shoulders slumping when he vaguely recalls you saying something along those lines. "But you could wear my clothes. When girls wear a guys clothes, it's cute, when guys do it, they look like this," he complains, tugging at the material that snaps right back against his torso.

"No one's even awake yet," you assure him. "And I think it's sweet that you wear my clothes."

"Whatever," he grumbles, lovingly kissing you in spite of the annoyed look on his face. The sweater is at least three sizes too small on him and definitely too short on his torso. He doesn't look at himself in the mirror knowing he'll lose all his nerve to walk out of the room like this. "I'll see you later."

"Love you," you call as he leaves the door in your sweater.

"Love you too," he mutters, closing the door behind him.

He's acutely aware of how ridiculous he probably looks. With determination painting his expression, he scans the corridor for anyone lurking down the halls. When he's certain there's no one up yet, he quickly scurries down to the hallway where his room resides.

He's made it down the entire hallway without being spotted, all that's left is to turn down one more hallway and he's free from any embarrassing encounters. He takes a large deep breath and with the last of his nerve, he rounds the corner - right into Steve.

"Buc- Oh... Oh, this is too good," Steve begins, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips. His eyes scan over the sight of Bucky in the pink sweater he knows belongs to you. Steve teasingly whistles, "Wow... Nice."

"Go away, Steve," Bucky grumbles.

"I'm not the one you have to worry about," Steve chuckles, nudging his head to the person behind Bucky.

"The walk of shame?" Sam wheezes in laughter, holding his phone to take a picture of the ridiculous sight before him.

"Get that out of my face or I'll break it."

"Wait, wait-" Sam snickers, trying to compose himself enough for a joke.

"Are you guys done?" Bucky impatiently asks, his arms crossed both in annoyance and in a feeble attempt to cover himself.

"I don't know, Sam. I think pink's really his color."

"No, I can't make a joke yet, it's too much," Sam sputters, his eyes watering from his overzealous laughter.

"Screw you guys," Bucky mutters, moving around the two men to walk to his room.

He walks quickly, his hands stuffed into your pockets until he reaches the sanctuary of his room. And surprisingly, it doesn't come with the same sense of relief. Before, his room was the only place he could find peace - it was safe, familiar. The feeling simply wasn't there anymore.

Bucky scans his minimalist room. He has a plant on the windowsill, but other than that, his room is almost entirely devoid of any of his own personal touches. If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was just a spare room. Even his toothbrush that sits on his bathroom sink isn't the one he uses everyday anymore. No, his spare that was currently placed right next to yours was getting more use than the toothbrush residing in his room.

He finally peels off your sweater, quickly dressing with the few remaining clothes he had in this room. Once he's dressed and ready for his mission, he decides to make a pit stop in your room. As he walks down the hallway with your borrowed sweater in hand, he's just glad he doesn't run into Sam or Steve again.

"I was hoping to catch you before you left," Bucky says upon entering your room, barely noticing that FRIDAY doesn't even ask for authorization anymore.

"Still here," you chuckle, finishing the rest of your braid. "You still in a bad mood?"

He huffs, a slight humor in his tone as he presses a sweet kiss on your jaw from behind you. "Well, I'm in clothes that fit me now."

"Next time do your laundry," you jokingly retort.

"Or maybe I could bring my clothes here?" he cautiously suggests, one arm wrapping around your waist.

"If you want to bring more clothes here that's fine," you nonchalantly shrug, moving away from Bucky to pack your bag for today's assignment.

"Well, what if I brought all my stuff here?" he not-so-subtly hints.

"But then all your stuff would be here?"

"So... what if all my stuff was here?"

"Well, then you'd be going back and forth-"

"What if we move in together and you understand what I'm saying?" Bucky bluntly asks, giving up on subtlety.

"Oh..."

"So... what'd you think?"

"I think... " you exhale, your head lolling back and forth though you really don't have to think about your answer. You decide to put Bucky out of his misery when he starts anxiously chewing on his lip. "I think that's a great idea. But you have to move here, I just hung up twinkle lights."

"I hung those up," Bucky corrects.

"But they were just hung up and they're not coming down," you say, dropping your bag and sidling back up to Bucky.

"So, is that a yes?" he asks, resting his hands on your hips.

You softly smile against his lips, "That's an enthusiastic yes."