Chapter Text
The sunlight streaming through the window hits Bucky in the eyes, causing him to groan and squint in annoyance. He feels a pair of arms wrapped around him and sighs happily. Bucky still can’t believe that you’d fallen in love with him, considering that he’d done so many bad things in his lifetime AND the fact that he has a metal arm. Good for fighting, but not for getting a date.
He’s also kinda grateful that you had insisted that his hair should be cut short, back to his hairstyle that he had in the 40s. Not that you hated his long hair – in fact, it came in handy during sex – but you just thought that Bucky would look much more handsome with short hair, just like the cocky man he was back in the day.
As Bucky kept on thinking of reasons why you would ever love him, you squeeze him, slowly waking up.
“Morning, Buck,” you mumble groggily, pressing your face into his back further.
He smiles goofily and turns around so that you’ll be able to snuggle into his broad chest. “Morning, doll. Sleep well?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Looking at the lock screen of your phone, you see the date written in thin, white letters. The 10th of March. Suddenly jumping up with excitement and glee, Bucky eyes you warily, wondering why you just displayed that random outburst of happiness. “Bucky, you know what day it is?” you practically scream at him as you kneel on the bed, gathering the sheets around your shoulders.
“No…should I? (Y/N), are you okay?” he questions you carefully.
“Bucky…” you stop and stare at him, clutching your chest dramatically. “It’s your birthday!” You hover over him and pepper his face with loving smooches, making the soldier squirm around and chuckle, enjoying the cute display of affection.
“Ah, that little thing. You remembered?” Bucky asks, stroking your hair as you returned to cuddle into his chest.
“Of course I did, you big goofball. I’ll remember your birthday, even if you can’t.” You plant a soft kiss on his chest.
“Yeah, well, HYDRA never told me when my birthday was – let alone let me celebrate it,” he mutters bitterly into your (h/c) hair. There’s a short pause that lingers between the two of you as Bucky frowns, recollecting several painful moments that he had endured during his time under HYDRA’s control. You decide to break that pause.
“How old do you think you are now?”
The question makes the soldier emit a deep, genuine laugh that you could feel rumbling through his chest. “Doll, you’re making me feel old already,” he jokes, ruffling your hair playfully, making you laugh along.
“No, seriously,” you continue, propping yourself up. “How old do you think you are?”
Bucky ponders the question for a while, absentmindedly stroking your hand with his flesh one. He knew that you didn’t mind it when he touched you with his metal arm, but he didn’t want anything that has been tainted with so much blood to be touching your heavenly figure. The man beside practically worships the ground that you walk on. He owes you his whole life for finding him on the streets and taking him in before Steve even started looking for him. You radiated so much kindness and love, he craved to be in your presence at all times. And, of course, you didn’t mind that a single bit.
“I should be…95, shouldn’t I?” Bucky answers, his eyebrows raised, awaiting your answer eagerly.
You giggle and stroke his cheek gently. “Darling, you’re 99.”
He groans and clutches you to his chest dramatically, pretending to sob in your hair. “Oh, honey, I’m getting so old! How old is Steve? I can’t remember…”
“He’s 96 this year, I think.”
“Ugh, the little punk’s younger than me. I forgot that. I feel so old right now, (Y/N). Hey, am I the oldest person in the world?” he queries, face still buried in your hair.
“Nah, Buck.” You trace circles on his stomach gingerly. “I think a few people are still older than you are, but you will be in a few years! Imagine that.” He laughs, taking his beautiful face out of your hair and tilting your chin up so he could gaze into your (e/c) eyes with his striking, sky-blue ones.
“Darling, you’re not helping at all,” he murmurs, chuckling.
“I wasn’t intending to,” you whisper back with a wide grin stretching from ear-to-ear.
Your mouths collide passionately, kissing the breath out of each other. He runs his hand up and down your bare back as you press your hands against his admirably broad shoulders. They weren’t as broad as Steve’s (come on, no one can beat Steve’s shoulder width), but you don’t really care. You work your way down to his abdomen, feeling his stomach, which had abs engraved into it by God himself (probably), and Bucky’s rubbing his face in between your breasts. You were well on your way to getting what you had wanted since you woke up when the Avengers suddenly come bursting in through the doorway with party hats strapped on their heads and those roll-out party horns that you blow into. Tony and Clint are the last to enter, carrying guns that spouted out confetti.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BU-” All of them stopped abruptly when they finally lay their eyes on you and Bucky, frozen in your previous state of intimacy. Clint accidentally shoots out some confetti as everyone’s jaws drop.
“Hey, guys!” you say nonchalantly, Bucky’s hands still on your ass and yours on his abdomen.
The Avengers, for once in the entirety of their lives, are rendered speechless at the sight of a 99-year-old former assassin in bed with his rescuer, a newly-inducted member of the Avengers.
“Frosty’s getting some birthday action, I see,” Tony remarks, instantly breaking the silence while wiggling his eyebrows seductively.
“Brother Anthony, I do not see Sergeant Barnes engaging in conflict.” Thor is confused, as he always is when Tony opens his mouth. “Unless you are making a reference towards sexual intercourse…?”
“Subtle,” Bruce mutters, chuckling along with Clint.
“Buck,” Steve whispers desperately. “Maybe you should put some clothes on?”
“Always one for modesty, Stevie,” Bucky observes wryly. “I’m fine without my clothes on. After all, (Y/N)’s here with me.” He ends his sentence by planting a kiss between your breasts.
“And that’s our cue to leave, boys,” Natasha says brusquely, pushing everyone out of the room despite their shouts of protest.
“Tasha, stop spoiling everything for us!” Clint objects.
“I’m sure that (Y/N) and Bucky wouldn’t want an audience watching them as they go about doing their business.” Natasha winks at the two of you. “Have fun, guys. We’ll be waiting in the living room.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Tasha!” you call out after her.
“I know! You can thank me later.” The door is shut and you turn to Bucky.
“So, where were we?” you prompt him, knowing full well where you two were before you were interrupted. He just gives you a sly grin in return and buries his face in your breasts once more.
Looks like the Avengers will to have to wait.