Bucky and the Bench
Title: Bucky and the Bench
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: eventual Bucky x female!Reader
Word Count: 802
Summary: It’s not enemies to lovers, but it definitely doesn’t start out well.
Warnings: Slow burn
Additional Notes: Well, here’s my first post here… This will not strictly be a WIP, but it is a series of drabbles with a plan, if you will. Or if you won’t. I still will be drabbling…
“You’re on my bench.”
You look up, so shocked at this stranger’s audacity that you couldn’t hide the look of harsh scrutiny on your face. “I – this is a public park.”
He nods. “And you’re sitting on my bench.”
Your scrutiny turns to a glare. “You can’t have a bench at a public park.”
“Fine, it’s my favorite bench in the park. It has the best view.”
Your face softens slightly. “You’re not wrong.” Two things are working to disarm you. You don’t glare often, but when provoked, whoever receives it usually backs down immediately, and the fact that he hasn’t is intriguing. But he’s probably not because he’s likely never had to back down from anything in his life, the imposing hulk of a man that he is, well over six feet, built frame, and a piercing blue stare. He’s more than the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Fine,” he sighs. “Can I?” he gestures to the right side of the bench.
You weren’t sitting in the middle of the bench, already slightly favoring the left side, so you shrug and scoot to the other end of the bench, moving your things along with you. He sits without another word. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pull a book out of an inner pocket of his jacket, and he becomes immediately engrossed.
It’s only after another few moments that you realize the look out of the corner of your eye had turned into a full-on study of the man at the other end of the bench, and then you quickly move to rummage in your bag. You weren’t staring at him.
Except you had been, because how could he really have had the audacity to disturb you about, and then insist on sitting on, this bench? There were plenty of good benches here, and he could have sat at any one of them. And then he just sat there, reading To Kill a Mockingbird as if nothing had happened to get his handsome frame in that spot. And this may be his favorite bench (it was yours, too), but that was one of your favorite books, and you couldn’t tell if you were annoyed that he had it in his hands, or if you were curious. It was a classic, to be sure, but had he read it before? What did he think?
You glance up from your bag to look at him again. He was still reading with rapt attention.
Back in your bag, you settle on just pulling a mint out of a small tin, then settle back to reading your own book. For your lunch break today, you’d opted for a fluffy new romance recommendation alongside your sandwich. You aren’t embarrassed to be reading a fluffy, trendy romance book, but you did hope the stranger hadn’t noticed how vibrantly pink the cover is. You move the book to rest in your lap, pressing the pages open across your legs, effectively hiding the cover from any eyes that may judge.
Once you are back into your book, you only have eyes for the pages until your phone’s alarm blares, which is only a moment of interruption to you, but causes the man at the other end of the bench to jerk violently, nearly drop his book, and glare at you angrily when he realizes it is only your phone.
You give him a half-apologetic grimace as you slip your book and your phone into your bag before slipping it over your shoulder. He settles back into the bench, but this time hunching over his book, elbows resting on his knees, clearly attempting to block out all his surroundings, including you.
You stand and walk away. As you begin your journey back to work, you can’t help thinking how awful a meet cute that was, if your life was a romance novel or rom-com film. Maybe it could be worked into an enemies-to-lovers plot, but even that was a stretch.
Those brooding blue eyes though…
You laugh to yourself, exiting the park and truly getting back to normal life.
Normal, standard life, void of meet cutes, but a life you are generally content with, no need to worry about the man with the impossibly blue eyes or his strong jawline.
Because, honestly, what kind of man was so particular about a public park bench anyway?
So strange.
You don’t go back to the park and the bench the next day, but the day after that you do go and reclaim your bench. You’d been to that park and sat at that bench during your lunch many times – not every day, but two or three times a week, and you’d never seen him there before, and you don’t see him there again.
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