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Recon missions are supposed to be easy.
Bucky just needs to sneak in, watch from a distance, jot down anything weird, and call it a night. Worst case? He tails the target for a bit. Nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times before.
At least, that’s how it should go. If he were alone, it probably would.
But no—tonight he’s stuck with Ava.
Ava, the ghost girl with a mouth that runs at a hundred kilometers an hour and a doctorate in Criticizing Everything Bucky Barnes Does. He doesn’t mind working with her; honestly, she’s perfect for recon. He just didn’t realize she also came with lots and lots of commentary.
“Is your breathing always this loud?” she whispers, like he’s personally offending the night air.
“Oh, are your ears always this dramatic?” he fires back.
“Dramatic? Sweetie, it’s called heightened awareness. Crucial for reconnaissance. I’d think a former HYDRA asset would know that.”
“And I thought a former SHIELD assassin would know recon missions are supposed to be quiet.”
She scoffs. “You think I’m not serious?”
“You’ve been talking non-stop.”
“And you’ve been talking back! I’m trying to respect my elders here.”
Bucky opens his mouth. He wants to clap back with something devastatingly sarcastic like he usually does with Sam, but to his surprise, nothing comes out. Because this is Ava, who somehow short-circuits his entire comeback-generating system. This is Ava, who can left him speechless even though there's a hundred thing he wanted to say.
So instead, the centuries-old supersoldier just… sighs. Quietly. Defeated. And turns his attention back to the foundation building across the street—their target for the night.
They’ve been hiding behind this massive tree like two teenagers ditching curfew for almost an hour now. Zero signs of their target. If the crescent moon shifts any lower, Bucky’s calling it and heading home.
Ava, of course, has other thoughts.
“Hey,” she mutters, peeking through Yelena’s binoculars, “you sure your intel’s legit? If we end up wasting our night standing behind a tree like two kids making out behind the gym, I’m gonna be so mad at you. I will start throwing punches.”
“My intel doesn’t lie,” Bucky replies. “But... it looks like he’s not showing up.”
“Or,” Ava says with a dramatic gasp, “maybe he knew we were coming. Maybe he sensed your loud breathing and bailed early.”
He closes his eyes and let out a sigh for the hundredth time.
“If that’s true, then yeah… you may start throwing those punches at me.”
Ava immediately brightens, eyes sparkling with way too much enthusiasm for someone who’s supposedly ‘serious’ on missions.
“Seriously? Oh, then I really hope he doesn’t show up tonight.”
“Guys, you do realize we can all hear your conversation, right?”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Bucky didn’t even need to see Yelena’s face to know exactly what she looked like — that wicked little smirk she always wore whenever she smelled drama. He could practically feel her staring at them through the comms like she’d just been handed front-row tickets to her new favorite sitcom.
“This is a great excuse for me to book you two a couples therapy sessions,” she chirped. “But really? Are you guys gonna flirt like this on a mission?”
“Yeah, weird flirting, Barnes!” John added, way too enthusiastically.
“Shut up, Walker. Nobody invited you,” Yelena snapped back immediately.
And just like that, the van descended into verbal chaos — Walker protesting loudly, Yelena firing back, and Alexei throwing in commentary that absolutely no one asked for. Bucky could practically feel the migraine blooming behind his eyes.
“Guys. Stop. Please.” Bucky groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was visibly more exhausted by his team’s nonsense than the actual mission.
He glanced sideways — and oh.
Ava was looking at him like she’d caught him slipping. Mischief in her eyes, lips curved into a teasing smile that made something warm uncurl in his stomach. Great. Just what he needed.
Thankfully, the universe decided to cut him a break.
Because out of the corner of his eye, Bucky finally spotted their guy.
Tall. Broad. Military crew cut. Vibes that screamed violence even from across the street. And the forehead scar confirming his identity almost immediately. Elias Cooper. Ex-SHIELD mercenary turned illegal arms dealer.
Their target.
“Hey. Eyes on the prize,” Bucky murmured, chin-gesturing toward Elias.
Ava instantly snapped back to the mission, squinting. “Well, great. There goes my dream of beating you up tonight.”
She sounded disappointed, but he knew better — she was relieved the intel was right after all.
“Can you see what’s in the suitcase?” Bucky asked.
“Yep. Looks like he brought us a present,” Ava said, handing him the binoculars.
“Alright. Intel says he’s meeting someone inside. If he goes into the building, we go with plan A.”
Plan A: Walker and Yelena go inside as newlyweds interested in donating their ridiculously huge fortune. It's a very easy cover with minimal suspicion, after all.
Plan B: tail Elias if he decides to change drop locations last minute. Again, it is supposed to be simple.
Unfortunately, Elias chose Plan C.
A plan no one had discussed.
“Oh, come on — why is he crossing the street?!” Ava hissed, eyes widening as Elias headed directly toward them instead of the building.
No time. No thinking. No debate.
Elias gets one glimpse of their faces and their mission could be blown into pieces.
So Bucky reacted on instinct — the same instinct carved into his bones after a century of life-or-death missions.
In one smooth, terrifyingly natural motion, he grabbed Ava, pulled her body against him, cupped her cheeks, and tilted his head back—
—before crashing his lips onto hers.
Ava made a muffled, startled noise — half squeak, half cursing because of course that's the only logical reaction — but a second later, professionalism kicked in. She melted into the role with frightening ease, arms sliding around his neck, pressing closer, warm and pliant against him.
She didn’t just play along — she committed.
Bucky felt her fingers curl into his hair, and suddenly, it was a very realistic kiss.
When he sensed Elias finally walking past them with zero suspicion, Bucky finally broke the kiss.
“Good. He’s moving,” he murmured, breath still uneven. He slid his hand from her cheek to her wrist, gently coaxing her forward as they tailed their target. As if he hadn’t just kissed her like the world was ending.
Bucky didn’t notice Ava's slightly dazed expression, or the way her hand trembled. Or how her heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of her chest.
He had no idea her pulse was racing double-time.
Not that she was going to tell him.
*
“So… mission accomplished, I guess.” Yelena announced dramatically as the team trudged back into the Watchtower. “We bagged New York’s most wanted arms dealer, reclaimed a truckload of Oxe’s illegal toys, and yet… why does it feel like we just survived the Cold War? Anyone? No? Just me?”
She was in full rant mode — no surprise there. After hours of stalking Elias through half the city, Bucky and Ava had finally grabbed him and his buyer in a park. Apparently just a few blocks from where they had been waiting the whole time. Anti-climactic didn’t even begin to cover it.
The takedown had been laughably easy. Bucky didn’t even break a sweat—didn’t even need to pull the whole “vibranium arm of justice” routine. Ava phased once, politely ruined the buyer’s entire career, and boom—both suspects were neatly packaged for pickup. After Bucky officially declared the mission accomplished they all headed back to the tower.
In theory, this should’ve been a victory lap moment. But instead of popping champagne, they walked in acting like someone died—and Yelena, of course, noticed immediately.
“Okay, what’s with you two?” she asked, blinking between Bucky and Ava. “You didn’t suddenly start throwing punches, right? Last I heard, you were arguing over whose breathing was louder. Did Bucky finally snap because Ava never shuts up?”
“Nope.” Bucky muttered, a little too fast, downing the rest of his beer like it personally offended him. Ava, sitting way too far away to be normal, pretended her tea was the most interesting thing in the world.
Yelena’s eyes narrowed. It took more than that to fool a Black Widow, after all.
“…What. Happened.”
Ava shot up like she got electrocuted. “Nothing happened, Yelena. We’re tired. We were the only ones actually doing physical work tonight.” She spoke way too quickly. Suspiciously quickly. “So, I’m going to bed, and I’m going to forget this mission ever happened so I can deal with you gremlins tomorrow. Good night.”
And she stormed out, leaving the rest of the team staring after her like someone had just unplugged the sun.
“Wow. She’s pissed,” Bob whispered, eyes darting to Bucky, who was now tapping his beer bottle on the table like a ticking time bomb.
Walker leaned forward. “Man, did you say something? Because Ava only gets that ‘I hate everything’ tone when I talk for too long.”
“And with me too!” Alexei added, pointing dramatically at himself. “She always looks like she wants to throw me out the window when I tell her a story.”
Every gaze locked onto Bucky. He looked like a raccoon caught stealing trash. A very guilty raccoon.
He sighed—a long, tortured, suffering sigh—and finally admitted:
“... Okay. Maybe I did something.”
And that was how the part where he kissed Ava under a tree detonated like a grenade in the middle of the pantry.
*
That night, Ava did not sleep.
Not for lack of trying—she’d tried every technique known to humankind: switching pillows, ditching pillows entirely, sticking one leg out of the blanket, counting sheep, cursing at the ceiling… nothing worked.
And she blamed one person.
James. Buchanan. Barnes.
Every time she shut her eyes, that kiss replayed like some twisted personal movie she didn’t ask for—her heart flip-flopping, stomach fluttering like she swallowed a whole butterfly migration. She knew he only did it to keep the mission from blowing up. She understood it was the only logical move in the moment, especially when their target was absolutely convinced the couple under the tree was just a pair of overly hormonal New Yorkers.
But she should NOT have kissed him back.
She should not have leaned into his stupid broad chest, or tasted the warmth of his stupid soft lips, or wrapped her arms around his stupid neck like she was begging for more—god, why didn’t she just stay still like a normal undercover agent?!
So, with her brain spiraling and her chest tight, Ava dragged herself to the only place that ever calmed her down.
The rooftop.
What she didn’t expect was to find Bucky already there—standing in the moonlight, wearing that irritatingly gentle smile she always wanted to slap off him, eyes soft like a lost puppy who’d cry if you breathed wrong.
Ugh. That fossil.
“I knew you’d show up,” he said casually.
Ava nearly choked. “Excuse you? Are you stalking me now?”
Bucky snorted, stepping aside just enough to respect her space but not enough to actually go away. Typical.
“It’s not my fault this building has the best stress-relief spot,” he shrugged.
And she couldn’t even argue. The Watchtower rooftop was the perfect place to let her mind breathe. And weirdly… she and Bucky were the only two who used it this much.
“Right, right. Just say you’re obsessed with me, Barnes.” The snark escaped before she could stop it.
Bucky chuckled—quiet, warm—and just that sound sent her pulse into cardiac chaos.
Then he finally said, “Listen… I want to apologize about the mission.”
“Oh, you mean for ruining my plans to finally punch you today?” Ava quipped.
“No.” Bucky exhaled slowly, a small smile creeping on his lips. “I mean the kiss.”
Oh.
Oh no.
That topic.
Something in Ava’s chest twisted painfully.
Regret? Was he going to say he regretted it?
“I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Bucky murmured. “I’d understand if you’re mad at me.”
It took Ava a moment to process. Then:
“I’m not mad.”
His eyes snapped open. “Wait. Really?”
Ava nodded, swallowing her pride and the embarrassment trying to strangle her.
“We had to keep our cover. It was the only reasonable move. And hey—we caught Elias.”
Bucky just stared at her, mouth open like he forgot how words worked.
“So… you’re not mad?” he repeated.
Ava smirked. “The only thing I’m mad about is that we didn’t kiss a little longer.”
She wished she sounded playful and not like she’d just confessed her entire soul. Bucky laughed, thinking she was joking.
“I don’t think that’d be wise,” he said. “I’m not exactly a great kisser, though."
Ava squinted at him, then suddenly burst into suspicion.
“Oh my god. Don’t tell me that was your first kiss since 1943.”
Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “No, it's not.”
“That’s a lie. You’re apologizing because you’re nervous. This is your first kiss in decades, isn’t it? ISN’T IT?”
“Oh my god, Ava.”
“How many kisses have you had in eighty years? One? Two? Was I number three?”
She slapped his shoulder gleefully as she cackled, while Bucky groaned like he was dying of embarrassment.
A comforting silence embraced them a moment after. They stand in silence, shoulders brushing, pretending the night breeze is the reason they shiver.
Neither moves closer, but neither walks away.
Not yet.
Not until one of them is brave enough.
And for now… that’s enough.