Chapter Text
New slang when you notice the stripes
The dirt in your fries
Hope it's right when you die, old and bony
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall
Never should have called
But my head's to the wall and I'm lonely
And if you took to me like a
Gull takes to the wind
Well, I'd've jumped from my trees
And I'd've danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would've fared well […]
I'm looking in on the good life
I might be doomed never to find
Without a trust, a flaming field
Am I too dumb to refine?
And if you took to me like
Well, I'd've danced like the queen of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would've fared well…
-“New Slang” by The Shins
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
Congressman James “Bucky” Barnes then glanced up from the sheet of paper with your carefully constructed and jointly agreed upon writing on it and smirked into the cameras. “And yes, I know that sounds absurd coming from the combat veteran, but just humor me for a second here.”
You smiled to yourself as you heard a round of warm chuckles go through the crowd; you’d known that opening line would be a hit for him and he’d feel comfortable reading it. You sat on the front in the reserved section next to his now empty seat, your legs crossed, Nine West grey-and-white heels on your feet that the Congressman had gifted you this past Christmas. You wore a simple black pants suit with a pale grey blouse, silver jewelry, and a black suitcase that you kept Bucky’s secure files in next to the chair. The Congressman himself had wanted to wear a black suit today, but you and his personal assistant had steered him to do navy. A black suit could look a bit too severe on camera, and sadly, being a Congressman meant the optics were everything.
“There is so much more that we can accomplish together with none other than paperwork than dropping bombs and firing guns,” Bucky continued once the one-liner laughter had quieted. “That’s why I’m here. Protecting this country isn’t just about punching Neo Nazis or holding protests on Capitol Hill. Those things do work, but we have to remember is that policy is one of the only protections that we have to ensure the safety of the American people. We all took a vow to do our best to protect this country, and that means making it fair for everyone to get what they need. My cause today is to remind you that the pen is mightier than the sword. A punch in the face is awful satisfying, and I can say that from experience, but it’s not always the solution. What I’ve learned from my time here is that to be on equal footing, you have to listen. You have to know what your votes, your district, your state, is struggling with and find workable, reasonable solutions to implement to lift the burden on their backs. Everyone here has shown me that they’re interested in doing the work.”
He offered a small but sincere smile. “So let’s work together and move forward into a better, safer tomorrow. I am partnering with our sponsor for a charity event that I think will give back to our community in a meaningful way, helping to ease the burden of the rising costs in this unstable economy and helping our citizens feel safe and heard. I would be grateful for all donations, but more than just reaching into your pockets; reach into your hearts and see what you can contribute, whether that is your time or just your talent. Everyone matters. Everyone has one thing they’re great at. I ask you all today to consider a donation or a volunteer position for the upcoming event that will move the needle forward into a safer, fairer community. Thank you all.”
Everyone clapped as the Congressman left the podium. He passed you the speech and you slipped it into his briefcase after unlocking it. He sat to your right with a sigh, and the host returned to invite the next person to speak. Bucky leaned over slightly, his voice a bare whisper in your ear. “Thanks for making me look good as always, beautiful.”
You chuckled. “You mean sound good.”
He chuckled too. “Right. Sound good. Thanks for making me sound good, beautiful. What’s next?”
“They are gonna make you kiss hands and shake babies, but it should be a very short photo op outside the doors,” you said, gesturing behind you with his itinerary pulled up on your phone. “Less than ten minutes sort of affair.”
“Good. Starving. I wanna grab lunch before I drop you off. In the mood for anything?”
You thought about it. “I could go for a BLT.”
“Mmkay, I’ll take ya past our favorite sandwich place, then. I know the thing for tomorrow afternoon got canceled, so I’m off the hook. When’s the next time I’ll need you?”
You checked your calendar. “Should be Wednesday when we work on the second draft of the speech for the local veterans group. I had your assistant pencil me in for you at your office at noon.”
“Perfect, thanks.” He patted your knee, then relaxed into his seat to wait for the assembly to end in a few more minutes. You tried not to sigh as you always did; Bucky wore Calvin Klein cologne and it always smelled heavenly since he never applied too much, just the perfect amount. It was ridiculous working with a man this blasted handsome. You constantly had to remind yourself not to just stare at the man. It wasn’t as if you’d never been around someone so attractive, but he was also a very genuine person. He listened to your opinion and always trusted your judgment. You’d only been with him for six months, but by now, you had a rhythm and rapport. He worked with you about once or twice per week depending on how rigorous his schedule had to be, so you were just a contract hire, but he went out of his way to be good to you as his speeches under your care went over very well.
After the assembly ended, Bucky took you out to lunch and you got a massive BLT and he got a steak sandwich, splitting an order of fries as you chatted about the next speech to tweak. He got a call right towards the end of the meal and groaned, apologizing as he stepped outside the sandwich shop to take it. You continued eating, but noticed that his posture changed from where you could see him standing on the sidewalk. He wasn’t yelling, but you could tell from his agitated shoulders and the way he ran a hand through his thick hair that something frustrating just happened. He was on the call for under five minutes and then stalked back inside with a stormy look on his face.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” you asked.
Bucky collapsed into the booth with an angry groan. “Oh, nothing! I just got volunteered against my will to do a twenty minute speaking engagement.”
Your jaw dropped. “What?!”
“Congressman Jacobs took it upon himself to announce to the public that I’m the goddamn keynote speaker at some Ted Talk in D.C.”
You winced. “Oh, hell. That’s just fucking rude. When is it?”
“That’s why I’m so angry,” Bucky continued with a grimace. “The fucking thing’s tomorrow night.”
Your jaw dropped even further. “Get fucked. It can’t be. No fucking way did he just drop a last minute speaking engagement on you!”
“That’s exactly what that asshole did,” he snarled, shaking his head. “He and I have had a beef for the last month. He knows I don’t do over five minute speaking engagements, so of course he announced it so I’d either look like a jackass backing out and saying no or under-prepare and embarrass myself.”
“Well, fuck that,” you said bluntly. “What time does your work schedule end today?”
Bucky checked his phone. “Looks like I’m done after seven.”
“Alright, then we’re going to workshop it until we get it right and then we’ll do a pass over the final draft before the engagement tomorrow night.”
Bucky then blinked up at you. “What?”
Your brows rose. “I’m offering to help.”
Bucky frowned. “That’s…not fair to you, sweetheart. You have a life. You’re not the Congressman; I am. It’s my fault for saying yes to this job. I’m not going to ask you to stay late and write it.”
“Bucky,” you said, exasperated. “Come on now. I only work for you two days a week on average. An extra night’s not gonna kill me.”
He shrugged. “What if you have plans?”
You sent him a flat look. “Bucky, you hired me because you found out I have no life. Don’t do that.”
He snorted. “Stop it. You’re way too self-deprecating. You do have a life; I follow you on Instagram, remember? You go to comic book and anime conventions and shit; it’s cute as fuck and I love that for you. Besides, you’re a published author and I’m just your part time boss. I am not making you have a late writing session with me tonight. I barely sleep. I’ll just head to the office and knock it out tonight.”
You folded your arms. “Mm-hmm. And what’s the subject matter again?”
Bucky paused. “…uh…”
“Mm-hmm. That’s what I thought. Look, I love that you’re so sweet, but you need me tonight. It’s just one night of overtime and I don’t have plans. It’s okay, I promise.”
He eyed you. “Are you sure you’re okay with it and you’re not just being nice? ‘Cause you are way too nice, y’know. Especially to me.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling and shaking your head. “You don’t have to glaze me like a donut, Barnes. I am genuinely offering to help and it’s not going to be an imposition, okay?”
Bucky squinted at you. “…I know that’s not sexual, but Jesus, girlie. You just made me picture that.”
You cackled. “Oh no. Sorry, I’ll choose my words more carefully next time.”
“No shit,” he muttered, blushing as he swiped his business credit card to finish paying for the meal with the little pad attached to the table. “Got a man out here thinking about pearl necklaces and shit.”
You laughed harder, blushing yourself as you stood and took your trash to the can. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Bucky hated his office, but it was at least a productive space. He had a couch and a TV across from it with a little glass coffee table between them, a mini-fridge, a private bathroom with a standing shower, and a small wet bar in the corner for entertaining. The desk was huge and made of dark finish wood. He had an ergonomic chair and a mat for easy gliding over the carpet. The annoying US government decorations crowded some of the walls, but he’d gotten some paintings from Wakanda to help break that up. He often kept extra outfits in a drawer his personal assistant made for him and he loathed the Mac computer that came with the desk, but he’d slowly learned how to use it.
He still didn’t want you burned out, so he did indeed drop you off and then picked you up himself at eight o’clock on the dot. He had a driver, but he often still liked to drive himself around since it let him stay in control. For obvious reasons, he had to be careful no Hydra sleeper agents had been installed in his life, hence why he liked to drive himself around when he got the chance.
There were already two pepperoni pizzas and drinks sitting on the coffee table as he held the office door open for you, filling the space with delicious salty smells. You weren’t in your suit since it would just be a late session with you two, so instead, you wore a comfortable flutter-sleeve black dress with rose patterns all over it and sensible flats that you knew you’d probably be kicking off soon anyway. Lucky for you, you’d gotten a pedicure recently so it would be fine. The office always emptied at five o’clock; some odd politicians or administrators stayed, but almost never past a couple of hours, so you’d have the building’s wing to yourself tonight. Bucky hated nosy or pointless visitors, as did you.
“Alright,” he said after you’d both eaten, seated in front of his Mac computer. “I know you’re an overachiever so you probably already have notes after I sent you the subject matter.”
You batted your lashes at him. “You know me like a book, sergeant.”
He chuckled as he opened a blank document. “Alright, beautiful, hit me.”
You gave him the outline of what you’d already started, and he typed up your thoughts and the bullet points that would eventually become the speech itself. It took about a half hour for the early parts of discussing what he’d talk about and which ideas worked and which ones didn’t. After he’d given his yea or nay for all the content, it was then time to build an outline for the twenty minutes he’d need to continuously speak, as Bucky didn’t have practice with much exceeding five minutes.
After an hour, Bucky got up to stretch his legs and get comfy, as did you. He loosened the tie and undid the buttons to free his throat and had already rolled up his sleeves over his powerful forearms. You’d kicked off your shoes and stretched a little bit to get the cricks out of your neck and shoulders. He rejoined you and together, you watched a handful of Ted Talks of a similar nature to the one he was expected to do for research. You wrote up helpful notes, then cross-referenced said notes with some of those best practices for Ted Talk lists.
After the second hour, Bucky got up and made you a drink. He was a scotch or bourbon man, according to his personal assistant, and he brought you a glass. “To take the edge off.”
“Thanks.” You clinked glasses, then sipped. Mm. He had good taste.
“Ask you something?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“No boyfriend?”
Your brows shot up. “No.”
“Why?”
You chuckled. “What do you mean why?”
“You’re really pretty, smart, funny, and you dress nice,” he said, his tone light and playful. “So what else is wrong with you that I don’t know about?”
You laughed then. “Oh, no, it’s just called being a weird ass writer person. I have tendency to overthink the shit out of everything, including men. I…haven’t been interested in dating lately on account of how awful men collectively seem to behave around me.”
He frowned. “Uh-oh. I was just teasing. Is there some stupid schmuck I need to rough up for you?”
You shrugged. “They’re better forgotten than beaten up. I’m sorry to say modern dating is pretty much just exhausting at this point and I’ve lost all hope of ever finding a halfway decent guy.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He shook his head. “Then that proves men really are dumbasses. Can’t believe a guy would jerk you around like that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Life is more than romance. I find fulfillment in plenty of other ways.”
He smiled then, rather fondly, you noted. “Mm. I liked that Batgirl cosplay you did, by the way.”
You laughed, blushing. “I bet you did; it’s a skintight costume, sir.”
Bucky widened those baby blues to look innocent. “Was it really? I didn’t notice. Maybe I should look at it again.”
You laughed again, swatting his arm lightly. “Awful. Stop that. You always flatter me, Buck.”
“Can’t help it,” he teased. “It always makes you blush and it’s cute as fuck. I’m only human, y’know.”
“Well, you have no room to talk, sir,” you said, sitting back in your seat and crossing a leg. His eyes didn’t stray, but you liked that he shifted slightly as if he noticed he’d wanted to look. It flattered you to no end. “I do not recall hearing about any late dates of yours, so what’s that about?”
“I’ve killed people,” he said bluntly.
“So have a lot of Congressmen.”
He snorted then. “Christ, I hate that you’re right. No, it’s just…with all the eyeballs on me, I just…didn’t think it would be fair to put some sweet girl through all that scrutiny. Not sure how long I’ll be in this gig, but that’s a lot of pressure and I want any girl I’m with to feel safe and like she can be herself, so…”
You nodded. “I get that, but it sounds awful lonely, Buck. What? You don’t have needs?”
“No,” he deadpanned. “I’m Jesus, can’t ya tell?”
“With that hair, I mean, they do keep pretending Jesus was a white dude.”
Bucky laughed. You adored making him laugh, as it lit up every corner of that handsome face. “God, you’re right about that, no pun intended. Because lily white, blond-haired people live in Nazareth and Jerusalem, right? I swear, we don’t make any sense as a race of beings. Maybe Loki had the right idea.”
You grinned. “What? Do you crave subjugation, Bucky?”
He grinned wolfishly, waggling his eyebrows. “Clearly. Doesn’t everything about me scream that I wanna be fitted for a collar, girlie?”
You about choked on the next sip of whiskey, pounding your chest while he laughed some more. “Sorry, that one was too easy.”
“I mean, your other title is the White Wolf…” You again batted your lashes. “No judgment, wolfy.”
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, that teasing tone still fully audible. “Tit for tat, cutie pie. Tell me something about you and maybe I’ll confirm or deny.”
You pursed your lips. “Chicken.”
“Hey, it’s only fair. Quid pro quo.”
“Just because you showed me your tatt doesn’t mean I’ll show you my tits. We have another hour to go before I get good and drunk and then I will show you my tits.”
He then choked mid-sip and you got to laugh this time. He also pointedly got up and refilled your glass, which just made you cackle and slump over from laughing. He handed you the glass with a very intent look and clinked his with yours, those blue eyes filled with utter mischief. Despite the taunting, you both then leapt back into the work and then it was finally time to start the draft. Bucky could type just fine, but you volunteered since your words per minute as a published author was laughably insane, about 75 wpm compared to Bucky’s probable 30 wpm, so he let you take his ergonomic chair and get started on the first draft.
It was a solid half hour of typing before you reached the first stopping point. You divided the section up so that it could be read and then you’d time it to make sure Bucky didn’t talk too fast or too slow for the allotted twenty minutes, as it would reflect poorly to go on long or be too short. You were hunched over the desk with a hand up near your mouth, squinting and proofreading with your whole attention.
Until Bucky reached down and gently pulled you back to rest against the seat.
“Hmm?” you said, glancing up to see him standing behind your chair.
“I said that’s bad for your back, sweetheart,” he repeated, and you’d been so into the speech you hadn’t heard him the first time. “Don’t want you to have to wear a brace by the time we’re done.”
“Oh. Yeah, trust me, writers and administrators all have bad backs by the time they’re in their thirties and forties.” That said, you paused and cracked your neck and rolled your shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness he’d probably already noticed.
“May I?”
“Hmm? May you what?” you asked after you’d already turned back to the screen.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he rested his hands on your shoulders…and started massaging them.
Oh sweet Jesus. Your eyes nearly shut.
It felt fucking incredible.
Granted, not dating for over a year left you rather touch-starved, so you knew some of the high itself was just a handsome man touching you in general. But it was Bucky fucking Barnes in the middle of the night alone in an office with low lights. Your uterus practically foamed at the mouth at the very tiny possibility that your boss was into you and you were way too fucking down-bad with the idea. You knew not to play with fire—there were about 10,000 reasons not to fuck Bucky Barnes your boss—but you couldn’t resist allowing those strong hands to slowly work out the kinks in your shoulders and back while you proofread the first draft. Damn him.
He never tried to touch you anywhere inappropriate, just slowly kneading your upper shoulders, shoulder blades, and then down your spine but he didn’t move below the waist. It amazed you to know how gentle the Vibranium arm could be, since you’d seen him do some pretty incredible things with it in old archive footage. You knew when you’d met that it wasn’t cold and his own body heat kept it warm, but it did get cool on nippy days in D.C.
“Thank you,” you murmured when he was done, having noticed your posture relax and some of the cricks in your joints going silent. “Almost done with the first pass.”
“Take your time, beautiful.” He sat beside you and worked on the physical notes with a red pen. You finished, then swapped spots with him, printing out the new draft and going after it with the same red pen while he did a pass on the digital document. You did another pass together adding and removing things, then it was time for a dry run.
“Alright, so Ted Talk is slightly different from your normal speeches as you saw in those videos,” you said as you stood behind him in his private bathroom mirror, adjusting him to stand a certain way. “You’re allowed to pace and you can also react to the audience if you like, so it’s more informal. I’d like you to start by just pacing a little bit and I want to hear your breathing as you go back and forth, since we need to hear if pacing makes you sound winded at all.”
“Mmkay, got it.” You sat on the counter at the left end and crossed your legs, holding your own copy of the speech with a pen to take notes. Bucky cleared his throat, then gargled water briefly to make sure he’d sound clear and concise. He launched into the speech, careful to remember most of the speech classes he’d already taken by glancing up at you periodically to retain eye contact and attention.
And that was a bit…disconcerting.
You were entirely used to Bucky making eye contact—he did so purposely as he knew women in administration and other support positions often got stuck with a dismissive jackass of a boss that had no compulsion to be respectful. You had worked with him alone or with his personal assistant often, but now, alone with him in the evening…
Your thoughts started to wander a bit.
Like noticing the curving bulge of his biceps pressed to the dress shirt or the way his navy slacks shifted around that luscious onion booty as he paced. Lord, what had you been thinking asking him to practice with you in the middle of the night? Now you wanted to jump the guy. Did he just have to be so damn sexy? It was frankly unfair at this point.
“Girlie?”
You yelped, jumping slightly as you realized your eyes had wandered below the belt and he’d just asked you something. “What? Sorry, brain fart, what was that?”
Bucky chuckled. “Uh-oh. I think that means you’re starting to get a little tired.”
You shook your head. “No, no, I just lost my place. What was it you asked me?”
He sighed. “It’s pretty late. Maybe we should pack it in.”
“No, I’d rather you feel comfortable with at least one run-through first. You’re very thorough and I know you always want to do a good job. You won’t sleep tonight if you’re nervous about it, so let’s just keep going until you feel you’ve gotten it right.”
“You don’t have to consider me so much,” he said softly. “I told you. You’re way too nice to me.”
“I give what I get, sarge. It’s okay. I go to bed at like 4am, dude. I’m a night owl.”
He squinted at you again, trying to see through your words. “Alright, but only one more pass and then we’ll do a last round of edits. I know you don’t have a boyfriend that’s gonna kill me for keeping ya out so late, so I’ll just play the part myself tonight.”
You giggled then, blushing. “Phrasing.”
He lifted his brows. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant that I’m going to be a responsible gentleman and take you home before curfew, girlie. If you want all that other romantic shit, you’ll have to make an honest woman outta me first.”
You folded over laughing, which made him grin. “Stop it, please, God, stop it or I’ll pee myself.”
He chuckled, then started the speech over again. You were able to pay attention this time with the little bit of tension broken, so you then just gave him small tips on his recitation and you returned to his office chair to do the very last round of edits for the night.
“Alright,” you said, sitting back in his chair after your last CTRL + S. “I think we’re good. Now to save it in like forty spots so it doesn’t vanish by morning and erase all our hard work.”
“Only thing I like about being a Congressman is we have extra secure bullshit to save to,” he mused, showing you the procedure since it only cropped up occasionally for you. He then cut his eyes over and offered a bit of a flirty smirk. “Though I can think of a thing or two to also appreciate.”
You shook your head as he finally printed two final copies of the speech and you stapled them after he handed them to you. “You’re going to make some girl ridiculously happy someday.”
“Glad you think that. Sad it’s not you.”
You chuckled. “Oh, please, Buck. You’d find me terribly boring in less than a week. I mean, you punch Neo Nazis and save the world. I’m a dorky, cynical speech writer and author. I very much doubt I’d be of any interest aside from the obviously lava hot feral sex.”
You then stopped and realized that last part had come out of your mouth and not stayed in your brain where it belonged. You shut your eyes and cringed. “And holy shit, that was a very poorly phrased joke, sorry.”
“Confession?”
You nodded without opening your eyes. “Go right ahead.”
“The times I find you funniest is when you make inappropriate jokes. Relax.”
You sent him a hopeless look. “Sorry. I think maybe the scotch is talking, so you probably should be a good, responsible Super Soldier boyfriend and take me home.”
He shook his head, running a hand through his long, dark hair. “Don’t be sorry. I like you better inappropriate anyway; makes me feel less like a caveman.”
“Why do you feel like a caveman?”
His wintry eyes strayed to your bare legs. “Oh, you know. Reasons.”
You about had a fucking heart attack.
He’d just made it quite clear he found you attractive. You certainly knew better than to do anything stupid, but the lust unfurled in your belly and made your core hot and your breathing speed up. You wanted badly to know how it felt to kiss him, run your fingers down that barrel chest, let his hands squeeze your hips and pull you close. It was the usual war of your mind and heart, not knowing if it was simple lust and loneliness or chemistry and kinship.
You cleared your throat and reached for your flats underneath his desk. “We should go.”
“Should we?” he asked quietly.
“Definitely,” you muttered as you pulled on your shoes and tried to remember with your flustered brain where the hell you’d dropped your purse. “Or I’m gonna be an idiot and fuck you on this damn desk.”
You tried to escape, but he caught your arm and turned you towards him, reading the panicked yet desirous look on your face. He erased the inches between you and kissed you.
And it was…everything.
Soft, sweet, but with so much longing that it made you sigh and collapse against him in an overheated heap of raw nerves. His lips shamed rose petals and goose-feather pillows. He held the first kiss for a long moment, as if counting your frantic heartbeats to know how long to let it last. Didn’t matter. He’d just melted you into a puddle anyway. You’d never been kissed that way before. All of the logic and will power seeped into the chair mat and vanished.
“I want to be good to you and treat you like a lady,” Bucky whispered after the kiss finally ended, cupping your cheek in his right hand. “I also very much wanna fuck you on my desk right now. Any chance you wanna weigh in on that, beautiful?”
You licked your lips, tasting scotch and sweetness and him on them, your voice dreamy. “I think you’ll find that you’re a very versatile man capable of both treating me like a lady…”
You then turned to sit on the desk and spread your legs for him. “…and fucking the living hell out of me on this desk in your office tonight.”
Bucky smirked as he finally unlaced his tie all the way. “Yes ma’am.”