Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

*12. BUCKY: Sharing is Caring

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Smut! Language!

"Sharing is caring. Now give me some of your fries."

I lunge across the couch towards Bucky's stash of fried potato sticks. Goddamn, he's too fast. His super soldier instincts kick in and he's holding the McDonald's container far out of my reach.

"Not so fast, doll. You said you didn't want anything when Wilson called for requests. If you're really that hungry, you should've asked for your own." Bucky's trying not to smirk at my pouting, downturned lips. He loves to annoy me, I swear.

"I wasn't hungry then. But now all I can smell is your food and I've changed my mind."

Again I try to crawl closer. I make it almost to his lap before he's jumping up onto the floor. For a terrifying moment I fear that I've crossed a line with my hand on his knee, but looking into his face with the wicked grin I can tell he's just continuing to mess with me. It makes my heart patter happily, despite the growl in my stomach.

"Come on, Buck!" I whine. "If Steve was here he'd share with me."

Bucky stuffs seven—seven!—fries in his mouth at once. Now he's just being wasteful. "But Steve's not here, darlin'. Just you and me." He wiggles those thick, dark eyebrows and then eats another. God, they smell so good.

"Unfortunately," I huff dramatically. I eyeball the man as he paces around the living room floor with the red cardboard container clutched in his metal fist. His long, thick legs move with lethargic purpose. His pretty blue eyes roam my face—just begging for some fun.

I don't know what Bucky's got up his red Henley sleeve, but I know it can't be good.

"Alright, doll. I'll make you a deal."

"A deal with the devil? I think not," I tease. I rise from the couch. Immediately his eyes drop to my wedged up skirt that's come up too far from my lounging position before. Blush warms my cheeks before I'm tugging it respectively back into place.

Bucky clears his throat. He walks closer until all that stands between us is the short, metal coffee table. "You can have the rest of them," he begins in that heavy voice, "As long as you can catch me."

I want to laugh. Catch him? He's a super soldier—I'm nothing more than one of Banner's brainy assistants. I don't even know how I got lucky enough to find a permanent spot on this team as a super-human specialist.

"Nice try, Bucky. But we both know that it's physically impossible for me to catch you."

My mouth goes dry when he winks. "Maybe I'll let you win."

"Highly unlikely."

Bucky takes two long steps backwards. He holds his arms out in open invitation. "What's the harm in trying, doll?" He smirks. He wiggles the French fry container in the air—the smell wafting closer. "Come on—you know you wanna."

I roll my eyes, and he knows he's won.

"The things I do for food..." I grunt to myself. Then I'm chasing Bucky out of the room. He really slacks in order to keep me close, but I think I surprise him a bit with my speed. Sure, I'm no Avenger, but I did get into college with a Track and Field scholarship.

I run after him—taking every turn and shortcut that he manages through the compound. People don't blink twice at us as we go roaring by. Every few moments Bucky will look back to me with a crooked grin and a laugh. I chortle and speed up.

Somehow, I end up following him to the roof. But when I pop out of that door at the top of the stairs, he's disappeared into thin air.

I stumble out into the brisk evening air. It's later now than I thought—it must be near eight PM. I'm panting, out of breath, and looking cluelessly all around for the man who's managed to drag me out into the cold air at such a late hour.