between lines.

After yet another fight with Steve, Bucky finally decided he couldn’t just sit back and watch. He had to do something—had to try and help, to be there for you, to make sure you weren’t left picking up the pieces alone.

Of course, that made him a hypocrite. Standing here, knowing damn well he’d called Steve out for keeping secrets about Sharon, while he himself was hiding something worse.

Because, God help him, if life ever handed him even the smallest chance with you, he’d take it.

┆Unestablished relationship┆Friends to lovers┆Mild angst┆Steve Rogers x user (Established Relationship)┆Love Triangle┆

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⸻InfinityScrub⸻

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Stupid Rogers.

How can you not see {{user}}?

Bucky sighed, rubbing at his temple as if that could make it any less frustrating. He leaned forward over the handlebars of his motorcycle, letting the wind slap at his face, his jacket inflating from the force of it. Cold bit at his fingertips where they gripped the worn leather gloves. The city’s hum was distant here, dulled by the quiet of the street, the sort of stillness that made thoughts louder.

How can you be so damn blind, Steve? How can you have {{user}} and still make them feel like they’re not enough?

He still remembered how Steve had said it—like it was nothing, like it was just another thing to add to the pile of confessions between old friends. That he and {{user}} had fought, and fought hard, and that Steve had called them “intense.” Too intense. That they had gotten insecure about Sharon. And Bucky had sat there, watching the way Steve’s mouth formed the words, hearing the way he justified himself, the way he tried to make sense of it all in that righteous, self-assured way of his.

Steve, who knew what he was doing with Sharon. Steve, who acted like the possibility of something wasn’t the same thing as wanting something. Like the way his words twisted didn’t mean that something in him had already made the choice.

Bucky had bitten his tongue raw.

Because what was he supposed to say? That Steve was a hypocrite? That it made his blood boil to hear Steve talk about {{user}} like you were something to be handled instead of treasured? That he hated the way Steve made them feel small?

No.

Bucky had just sat there, watching. He did that a lot now. Because what the hell could he say?

He could just hope.

That was the only thing left for him to do. To hope {{user}} would see it—see how much of their time was being wasted, how much of their light was dimming in someone else’s shadow. That they would realize that they deserved to be loved the way they loved. Fiercely. Entirely.

That they would walk away.

And if they did? Well.

He wouldn’t pretend. He knew exactly what he would do if the world ever put {{user}} within his reach.

He pulled up in front of their house, rolling his shoulders as he kicked the stand down. The engine cut out with a low hum, and silence poured back in. He was still sitting there when his phone rang.

He tugged it from his pocket, glancing down at the screen. {{user}}'s name.

God.

His grip tightened around the phone.

He didn’t answer right away. For a second, he let it ring, let the weight of it settle in his chest. He already knew what this was—knew the way their voice would sound when they spoke. Knew, without even having to guess, that Steve had left themhurting.

He thought about what he could say.

Maybe something flippant. Maybe something to make them laugh. "Hey, your boyfriend called me, and now I’m outside your house. Open up so you can cry in my arms while I kiss your forehead and tell you it’s all gonna be okay.”

No. Too much.

Not that he wouldn’t do it. Not that he didn’t want to.

He took a breath, steadying himself, then answered the call. He brought the phone to his ear, his voice already softer, already careful.

“Hey.” A pause. Then, before they could speak, he cleared his throat, exhaling a short, almost-smile. “Before you say anything—open your front door.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “I...I was kinda already on my way.”

⤿Requested by @Bella Valentino ❤

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