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The elevator doors slid open, making room for an exhausted Bucky, Yelena, and Ava. They had just finished a three-day mission, and all any of them wanted was sleep.
Or well, that’s what Bucky wanted: a long shower, a can of beer, and twelve hours of unconsciousness.
But all those thoughts disappeared the moment he felt that gaze on him.
He didn’t need to look to know who it was. He’d gotten used to the feeling by now, the quiet warmth, the intensity, the way it made the back of his neck prickle.
Still, Bucky’s eyes drifted toward the couch, a frown already forming.
There they were.
Those baby-blue eyes fixed on him from the nearest seat, staring like Bucky had walked in drenched in blood instead of sweat.
And the second Bucky met John’s gaze?
Walker’s head snapped away, so fast it could’ve given him whiplash.
As if he were avoiding Bucky now.
Which made zero sense.
Why look at me only to avoid me? Bucky grumbled internally.
At first, he hadn’t cared. He’d assumed Walker had some problem with him and was gearing up for a fight.
But that fight never happened.
Not in the Tower, not in the gym, not even out on missions, which, annoyingly, they were assigned together more often lately. Eight times out of ten, somehow, Walker ended up on Bucky’s team.
Bucky shook his head and kept walking. Whatever. He was too tired to deal with weird looks.
Hopefully, Walker would stop soon; he would get bored or something. It had already been months. No one could keep staring like that for months.
And if he didn’t stop? Bucky was absolutely ready to finally throw a punch.
The warm shower worked miracles on Bucky’s tired muscles, and his bed had never felt softer.
He barely touched the pillow before he was out cold, the quiet hum of the room and the spreading warmth lulling him deeper.
So the knock on his door was…unwelcome.
Very unwelcome.
Bucky tried to ignore it. Whoever it was could go to hell.
But the knocking continued.
With a groan, he threw off the blankets and stomped to the door.
“What?” he snapped.
“Move it. John made dinner.”
Yelena. Clean. Still tired. And unimpressed with his attitude.
“Walker?” Bucky asked, genuinely confused.
Yelena raised an eyebrow. “Why are you surprised? John’s been the team cook since day one.”
… Right. That was true. Every homemade meal they’d had in months had come from Walker. Sometimes Bob or Ava helped, but it was always mostly John.
Bucky sighed and followed her down the hall. He was awake now; might as well eat while the food was hot.
“Any idea what he made?” Bucky asked.
“Chicken, mashed potatoes, and pecan pie.”
Oh.
Pecan pie. Bucky’s favourite. Just hearing the name made him hungry.
Something must’ve shown on his face, because Yelena gave a small, knowing chuckle.
“What?” Bucky frowned.
“Nothing. Just… it’s your favourite. Again.”
“Again?”
“Yes. Last time you came back dead on your feet, he made plum jam. Before that, pancakes. I mean, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on here.”
Bucky stopped walking.
“… What do you mean?”
Yelena turned fully toward him, staring long enough to confirm, and she came to the conclusion that he was completely oblivious of what she was talking about.
She sighed. “John’s got it bad for you, man. Like, bad. What else do you need for him to blush? Asking too much.”
Bucky blinked.
Walker making his favourites. The looks. The volunteering. The…possibility of blushing.
It didn’t make sense.
But if he connected the dots…
Oh.
Oh.
Oh my god.
John Walker had a crush.
A crush on him.
And Bucky had missed every single sign for months.