Previously:

As you waved goodbye to Bucky and shut the door to your motel room, your mind went into panic mode. Was this a date? Did you pack anything date-worthy? How much scrubbing would it take to get the grease out of your skin and fingernails? Taking a deep breath, you let go of those worries as excitement for tonight crept in.

You had a date with Bucky Barnes. Maybe.

__________

After rummaging through all the clothing in your duffel for something that might be suitable for a kinda-almost-maybe date, you settled on a knee-length skirt and button-up blouse. Both were slightly wrinkled, but you hung them up in the bathroom while you showered hoping the steam would help them relax. You decided to wear your hair down and put on a small amount of makeup. Slipping on your sandals, you were ready to go when he knocked on your door at exactly 7:28pm.

A turn of the knob and he stood before you in a pair of dark jeans with a light blue button-up shirt tucked in, his long hair tucked behind his ears. You weren't one for facial hair usually, but somehow this man's scruffy, well-defined jaw had you weak in the knees.

"Wow," you breathed out with eyes wide. "You clean up nice."

He ducked his head almost bashfully, hands clasped behind his back. "Thanks. So do you, Y/N. You look beautiful."

It was your turn to hide your warm cheeks, stepping outside and locking the door behind you before turning to face him.

"Shall we?" he asked with a gesture of his hand for you to walk ahead. You both descended the stairs and then walked through a gap in the hedge toward the parking lot. Bucky's long legs stepped ahead then, leading you to the passenger side of a pickup truck and he opened the door for you to enter. As Bucky walked around the truck to the driver's side, you gazed out the window to see Wanda standing outside the office with keys in hand, probably locking up. She was facing your direction and you awkwardly waved. She remained frozen in place so you dropped your hand, unable to read her expression from your current distance.

Bucky climbed in and turned the ignition, the truck roaring to life. As he put it into drive and steered out of the parking lot, you glanced at Wanda once again as the truck passed her and she definitely did not look happy. It was time for an explanation, you thought.

"Hey, Bucky," you began and he tilted his face your way without taking his eyes off the road. "What's the deal with Wanda? She was perfectly welcoming when I walked in but when I mentioned my car and you, she gave me a weird vibe. And then just now as we passed, her face was...I don't know. Were you two an...item? Or something?" you asked, suddenly unsure if you even had the right to pry into his personal life, having known him such a short time.

He just let out a long sigh with a shake of his head. "No. We never really dated. She and her twin brother were a few years younger than me in high school. I became friends with Pietro, her brother, when we were both on track team. He made Varsity as a Sophomore when I was a Senior, which is pretty impressive. Anyway, I noticed Wanda hanging out on the bleachers during practice often and I figured she was waiting for her brother or something. I heard a few whisperings that perhaps that wasn't the only reason, but I had said maybe three words to her ever so I didn't think much of it."

Captured by his story, you were also strangely tantalized by his movements as he drove. The truck was a manual stick shift, but he changed each gear remarkably smoothly. He turned onto the main road and the worn leather of the steering wheel slipped through his loose grasp as he eased out of the turn effortlessly.

He ran a hand through his hair as he continued. "Near the end of the school year, there was a girl's choice dance and she asked me. Truthfully, she wasn't the only one, but she was the first and I didn't want to be that guy, so I said yes. The dance was fine, but by the end of the date, it was pretty obvious that it meant a lot more to her. When I dropped her off, I gently made it clear I didn't see her that way. She and her brother stopped talking to me after that and some thought I had led her on, but I was about to graduate and at that point I was thinking of going to community college a few towns over so I wasn't worried about it."

"But then your uncle needed help?" you asked, filling in the gaps.

"Yup. I ended up staying in town and now...I don't know. She doesn't seem to hate me after all these years, so that's good. Our interactions are friendly but it's always a little weird. So, sorry about that. I thought about warning you, figuring she'd be at the front desk, but at the time I wasn't sure it was...relevant," he finished, stealing a glance your way.

"And, uh...does it seem relevant now?" you asked, taking in his gorgeous profile as he drove.

"Apparently so," he answered with a smile as he turned into a parking lot and turned the engine off.

You stayed in your seat and just as you thought, he walked around to your side and opened the door for you. Entering the restaurant, the delicious smell of garlic and oregano wafted over you. The hostess led you both to a table and Bucky pulled out your chair for you to sit down. This all felt very date-like, but perhaps you just weren't used to encountering many true gentlemen. You ordered a glass of wine and Bucky got a beer, then you were left to peruse the menu.

"So, what's good?" you asked, peering across the table at him.

"Honestly? It's all pretty good. I have my favorites, though. Lasagna, Ravioli, Manicotti, good ol' Spaghetti and Meatballs, you can't go wrong. I will say, though, having fish in an Italian restaurant is not the best idea. I mean, it's not bad, it's just...not their forte," he said, using your same phrase from early that day, making you smile.

"Okay," you grinned, taking another look at your options with Bucky's advice in mind.

His voice brought your head up. "Oh, good! Clint's here tonight," he said, raising a hand in the direction of a man at the bar talking to a pretty woman in a well-fitting black dress. The man returned the wave and said a few last words to her before heading to your table.

"Bucky, hey, man. It's good to see you," the sandy-haired man as he approached and clasped the hand of your (maybe) date before pulling him in for a hug.

"Yeah, you too," Bucky replied, settling back into his chair. "Clint, this is Y/N. She's visiting from out of town. Y/N, this is my buddy Clint. He claims he's just a server, but we all know he practically runs this place," he smiled with a nudge to his friend.

Clint looked around and then leaned forward conspiratorially. "Don't let Bruce hear you say that. Not that he's here, but word gets around," he said with a wink.

Bucky chuckled lightly. "I saw Nat at the bar, you two still working things out?" he asked, tilting his head in the woman's direction.

Nat? You craned your neck and took a longer look at the woman in the black dress sipping a cocktail. It was Nattie! You hardly recognized her all dolled up with her hair down.

"Yeah. We're gonna talk after my shift. Not sure if the addition of alcohol will help or hurt the cause, but..." Clint trailed off with a shrug.

Bucky nodded with a knowing smile. "Well, good luck, man. You two are good together, I think you can make it."

"From your mouth to God's ears..." he muttered, then pulling out a pen and notepad. "So! What can I get you kids?"

The brunet nodded for you to go first.

"I'll have the lasagna with a garden salad. Ranch dressing, please?" you told the waiter, then turning to Bucky.

"I'll have the ravioli. And an order of garlic bread to share," he answered, handing his menu to Clint.

"Excellent," Clint said as he jotted down the details. "I'll get that started."

"Thank you," you said with a smile and he nodded before walking toward the kitchen.

____________

"Seriously? That's your favorite movie? He buys a sex doll online and then the whole town pretends she's real!" Bucky exclaimed, gesturing with his fork.

"Okay, first of all, it's literally impossible for me to pick only one favorite movie, more like top 5 in each genre. Secondly, "Lars and the Real Girl" is an incredible movie! She's not a sex doll to him. In his mind, she's real. Intentions are important. I mean, a hammer can be used to either build a beautiful house or to bludgeon someone to death with. It's not the object, it's the intention behind it," you explained, taking another bite of lasagna.

"Yeah, but there's the possibility of banging in either scenario," Bucky teased with a chuckle, resulting in getting a kick in the shin from you. "Ow! Okay, okay..."

"Did you even see the whole movie?" you asked accusingly.

He paused momentarily while chewing before he swallowed. "Well. I think I was on a date, so it's possible I missed a few key parts," he admitted with a blush.

"Uh huh..." you said with a raised eyebrow. "Well, anyway. Lars obviously has some sort of neuroatypical disorder that isn't specified, but that doesn't make him crazy to want a connection with someone. It may seem crazy that he talks to her and she responds according to him, but I hold entire conversations in my head sometimes. Even talk to myself. He needs a way to process his loneliness and social anxieties, so this is his way of working through that. The writers could have very well taken it in a gross, raunchy direction and they don't. Lars is sweet and considerate. He truly cares for her. Plus the way the whole town comes together in support of Bianca and by extension Lars, along with his family and the incredibly understanding doctor...it's just beautiful. Ryan Gosling's performance was incredible, too. I was in tears by the end," you admitted with no shame.

Bucky sat back in his chair. "Really? Hm. I might have to give it another chance. So, you write screenplays, is that what draws you into the movies?"

Munching on a mouthful of garlic bread, you glance off into the distance as you gathered your thoughts. "No...not entirely. I mean, a well-written screenplay is very important, but you also have to have the right actors, director, settings, wardrobe, editing....it's everything. All these parts need to fit together for a movie to work. A few elements can be off, and it ruins the whole thing. If a script is written with a certain actor in mind and they're not available, then that changes the tone. Or the director might not have the same vision as the writers. Also, the writing, directing, acting, etc. can all go according to plan but then it can fall apart in editing or sound mixing. Have you ever wondered why an actor could agree to be in a terrible movie? It's possible they didn't know it was terrible at the time. They read the script, did their part, and then the rest is post-production which they have no control over. It's all those intricate elements that make a movie worth seeing. I just want to be a part of it," you ended with a shrug.

Bucky sat across from you, having put his fork down sometime during your rant. Now he was just giving you a soft smile that somehow made you nervous.

"What?" you asked him when the silence became too much.

"Nothing, it's just..." he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "I love how your face lights up when you talk about this stuff. It's refreshing to see someone so passionate about their dreams. It's great. If you can get in a room with those movie executives, I know you'd be able to convince them of anything. Passion is contagious. You'll have L.A. eating out of your hand."

You were stunned for a moment, grateful for the faith he had in you. "Wow, um...thank you, Bucky. That means a lot to me," you said with a smile, then leaning forward. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Bucky matched your movement, moving closer with a nod and a smile.

"I have a meeting with a possible agent at the end of the week. He read one of my scripts and might offer to represent me. Isn't that insane?" you said in a whisper, not so much as to keep from being overheard, but more that if you voiced it too loudly, you may jinx it.

His face brightened in surprise and joy. "Wow! That's incredible, Y/N. Congratulations!"

You grinned widely. "Thanks. It's a long shot, but it's something, you know? But what about you? What are you passionate about? You said music was a big part of your life at one point. What draws you to music?" you asked, picking up your fork again. The food really was delicious.

He speared the last piece of ravioli on his plate and popped it into his mouth, then swallowing. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he set it on the table and fixed his cerulean gaze on you.

"You're right, music was a passion of mine. Still is, but in a different way. To me, music has always been...transformative. It can also hold a lot of weight and meaning, taking me back to a certain time and place. Almost like a time machine, if that makes sense. I mean, I can hear a certain song and suddenly in I'm back in a garage playing with my buddies. Or on a porch having my first kiss. Or laying underneath a car hearing a song I've heard a hundred times, but that time it hit me. Now that song has relevance. Weight. I never forget those moments," he shook his head for emphasis.

You were the one to sit back and smile this time. "Wow. Talk about passion," you said with a smirk.

Bucky smiled, his fingers tapped on the tabletop a few times in the silence. Reaching out your own hand, you gently brushed the calloused skin of his fingertips, stained permanently black. You looked down at your own fingernails that no amount of scrubbing could remove all the grease from. "Look, we match," you grinned, looking at both your clean but dirty-looking hands on display.

He matched your smile and grasped your hand briefly to inspect your nails, but then he didn't let go. He held your gaze a moment before he looked down at your empty plates and then noticed the empty tables around you. From the moment you sat down, conversation had flowed effortlessly. It felt like no time had passed and you wished this moment could stretch on forever. Looking at the clock, it seemed that the restaurant was about to close, so Bucky released your hand and finally signaled for the check. When it arrived, he snatched it before you could.

"Bucky..." you said, holding out a hand.

"No," he stopped you gently as he pulled bills out of his wallet. "If my dad did one thing right, it was to teach me that a gentleman always pays for dinner on a date."

Well, there's your answer, you thought with heat in your cheeks. You resigned to let him pay and couldn't keep a smile off your face as you bid Clint and Nattie goodnight. Bucky led you back to the truck and opened your door once again. The short ride passed by mostly in comfortable silence. You wished there was something you could say to prolong the night. You wished the drive were longer. You wished for the words to immortalize this night. You wished for...more.

After he parked, Bucky walked you up to your room and lingered with you just outside the door. Fiddling with the key but unwilling to end the night, you turned his way and met his eye. Suddenly, you knew. There were no words. Only action. You took a step forward, then another until you were only inches apart. Bucky held his ground, keeping his eyes on yours as you heard a hitch in his breath. Gently placing a hand on the front of his shirt, you could feel the hard lines of his muscled chest. Your fingers caught on the buttons as you continued to brushed down the fabric gently.

Taking the last step, you closed the gap and pressed your lips to his softly. He quickly reciprocated, bringing his hands up to place on either side of your face. His lips caressed yours as your fingers buried themselves in his soft, chestnut tresses. Your tongue traced his bottom lip before he opened wide to you. The kiss deepened while heat consumed you, leaving you gasping for air after a few short minutes. You pulled back and held his gaze. Stepping away you grasped one of his hands in yours while the other slipped the key into the lock and turned. You stepped inside but before he could cross the threshold, he stopped, causing you to look back in question.

"Y/N. Are you sure?" he asked.

You stared at him a moment, his hair mussed and pupils blown wide in lust. Mostly likely, you looked just as wrecked from only a kiss. You needed more.

With a nodded, you pulled him forward and shut the door behind him. "I'm positive."