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insomniumstella · 1 year

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unfinished business (2) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky

word count: 3,230

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A brooding figure loomed over the table, and, judging by the sharp scent of woody cologne, it was not the waiter.

The sun had disappeared from the broad horizon, leaving the restaurant basking in the soft glow of lanterns and candlelight. Dreamy jazz sounds saturated the space, which was simultaneously open and closed. Despite the lousy name, Toro Toro was a spectacular overwater establishment — a long wooden dock led to an intimate setting with limited tables and a narrow but elegant bar. It was situated only a short walk away from the common areas of the hotel, possessing the pleasure of undisturbed peace as the restaurant imposed a strict adults-only policy.

“The menu’s full of oysters, caviar, shrimp with garlic butter?” Her sentence warped into a question as she read through the entrees before glancing at James through the top of the menu. “Delicious, but might be dangerous for a man pushing a hundred and ten.”

“A hundred and seven.” James scanned y/n’s exposed chest, eyes raking over the silk dress and Louboutin heels.

The man wouldn’t describe the attire as a pleasant change, that he’d die before admitting, but it was a change. The black satin shirt Steve had convinced him to pack matched the color of her clothing, and they, to anyone who knew any better, horrifically resembled a couple. A massive diamond ring rested on y/n’s fourth finger from when Tony had gifted it to her for Christmas, solidifying her as Bucky’s pretend wife.

The table bore two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon, one empty and the other on its way there. She must’ve been sitting at the table alone for the last half hour, nibbling at bread and cheese without ordering. If James knew y/n, and in some of the worst ways he did, he’d guess she had established a sob story of a fourth wedding anniversary and a missing husband.

He’d be right.

“I’ve heard oysters are an aphrodisiac, so that’s a no,” she placed the menu down, staring at James as he sat down, “why are you here?”

It was the burning question of the hour. Why did James Buchanan Barnes decide upon a dinner with her?

“I was in desperate need of an evening with you, and it is our wedding anniversary,” he nodded at the waiter, who approached the table to bring more bread, “also, I was hungry, and nothing at the buffet seemed appetizing.”

To say that nothing at the buffet seemed remotely delicious would be an understatement. The Shack was holding a Mexican night, and as much as James had fallen in love with nachos over the years sharp salsas he couldn’t yet stomach. Mexican dishes had consistently been more of a punishment than a pleasure for the soldier. A rendezvous with y/n could never compare to his intolerance for spicy foods. Besides, James had no desire for mediocre pizza at the 24/7 lounge.

She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Jordan!” The woman called after the boy. “Could you bring us champagne? Oh, and more butter, please.” She flashed him an innocent smile, gazing at him through hooded eyes.

Besides the hostess, Jordan the waiter was the first to greet y/n at Toro Toro. He had been as flirtatious as he had been awkward, but he was also great at conversation, even sitting down with y/n when she had, less than honestly, admitted that her husband would not be joining her. He had brought her an off-menu appetizer, inviting y/n to a staff party later that week as condolence.

“I see you made a friend.” James spread a generous amount of butter on a piece of bread.

“I did! He’s a Maui local and works at the resort for good tips, hot chicks, and free booze.” The explanation earned a baffled look from James. “Jordan’s words, not mine.” She graced his empty glass with the leftover cabernet and shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe I had to sit through exhausting monologues of villains on vacations and catch me if you can, but please don’t for nothing.” James couldn’t figure out the latter reference.

“Did it excite you?”

“Yes.” She poured herself a glass of champagne when Jordan placed an opened bottle and hurriedly disappeared. “All that foreplay, and you still showed up.”

James grinned crookedly, staring into her eyes — for a split second, his walls crumbled, allowing her to witness an honest man who was truly amused by her joke. Except it was over before she could say anything, and James averted his gaze, picking up the menu. She is not funny.

“Oysters are the last thing I’d imagine to an aphrodisiac,” he commented, eyes locked on the piece of paper resting in his hands.

“Giacomo Casanova reportedly ate heaps of them for breakfast,” she drained half her glass, “learned it at Pepper’s fun fact Friday,” she explained, referring to Pepper’s infatuation with acquiring seemingly the most peculiar of information.

Her own remembrance of bizarre knowledge had never come in handy until the conversation, yet, she had been grateful to have learned about seahorses, the purpose of eyebrows, and, in Pepper’s words, “dangerous wax coating on supermarket apples”.

The left corner of his mouth curled up into a meager smile, “he must’ve been real horny then.”

“He must’ve been,” she agreed.

An unusually amicable silence settled between the pair as she bit her tongue on a cobra’s blood would be a much more unsettling aphrodisiac addition, keeping it to herself rather than continuing a conversation of sexual matters with him. James had presumably picked out an entree, messing with the silverware until a certain man caught his eye. He shuffled in the seat, refilling both of their glasses, and leaned in closer than she would ever want him to, especially during dinner, for she had not yet lost her appetite.

“Remember Elijah Williamson,” he stared at someone behind the woman, “a corrupted politician the FBI asked us to help incarcerate?”

“Yes,” she narrowed her eyes, attempting to read Bucky’s expression, “he was accused of working with HYDRA on a similar project as they did in 2014.”

“And we both knew that HYDRA continued to work in silence and that he was guilty, even though the court deemed Elijah innocent?”

“Yes.” The tone of her voice was beginning to bear hints of annoyance again, the relatively lighthearted atmosphere shattering.

The FBI and Avengers often bumped heads, given their lines of work, so it had come as a surprise when the government’s agents had reached a dead end and showed up at the compound for help. She could remember the day as if it had happened yesterday — the smug grin she had on throughout the first meeting and the sour taste when Steve had paired the two.

“We need someone with extensive knowledge of HYDRA and someone who could go undercover,” he had said then, “please put your differences aside. This is important.”

Steve had been wrong about the woman. She had not been needed for undercover work.

Nonetheless, by the time Natasha had offered to step in and take over, James and y/n were in too deep. Too deep into Elijah Williamson’s personal and professional lives. The case had consumed them, and at times, they’d almost stumble on the missing piece of the puzzle before the court had deemed him innocent, and they had been forced to step away empty-handed. Somedays, she strangely missed the countless cups of coffee, the sleepless nights, and the eerily peaceful conversations the two had shared for eight solid months.

“Do you still think he’s guilty?”

“The government asked us to not intervene any further after the trial was over.”

“Yes, but that is not the answer to the question I asked.” James returned his stare to her face. It was firm and heavy, and as he searched for something in her eyes, a glimmer of trust perhaps, she hunched in the chair. “Do you?”

She was in thought for a second. “We had very few leads, James.” None were of significance either. “Elijah donates to charities all the time, he helps kids in the foster system, hell, he does too much good to believe he’d want to wipe out half the population.”

“That’s what he wants everyone to assume.”

“I would love to entertain the idea of Elijah Williamson being guilty, but the man, as it stands, is innocent in the eyes of prosecutors.”

James leaned back in his seat. “Do you trust me?” His sudden change of tone took her by surprise.

“I could envision trusting you on the field if my life depended on it, but I’d be reluctant to ask for a coffee.” Reluctant was a restrained statement.

“Good girl.”

“What?” She asked, face drained of emotions before she burst out laughing. Heaven help me, James has a praise kink, she giggled once more, he’s so getting blackmailed when we get back.

“It slipped out on accident.” Pink hues crept onto his cheeks before his expression hardened. “Don’t turn around, but Elijah’s here, and he’s been staring at me ever since Jared brought the champagne.”

The woman must’ve developed an instinct to do the opposite of what James would instruct her because she peeked over her shoulder, locking eyes with the politician.

“The waiter’s name is Jordan.” She spoke, ignoring Bucky’s disappointed expression when their eyes met. “I suppose this action did not earn me a second good girl?”

“It did not.” He smoothed the invisible wrinkles on his satin shirt. “Please behave. Elijah is making his way towards us.” His words were less than a whisper.

She had seen Elijah at the trial, sneaking glances from the very far back to avoid getting noticed, but she did not remember him being … attractive? The man who loomed over their table had a full head of luscious, gray locks, and though he had just turned 68, he did not look a day over 50, with sun-kissed features and round eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s a surprise to see you in Maui.”

James rose to shake his outstretched hand. “I have to agree. I’d never peg you as The Maui Resort kind of man.”

“My wife and I met here, what,” he paused, “thirty years ago? We return each August for our anniversary.” He chuckled, turning his focus towards y/n. “Who’s this beautiful lady?”

“Thank you.” She offered him a smile, leaping up from the chair. “I’m Amelie, James’s wife.” She outstretched her hand, which he shook without hesitancy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It pained James physically to abstain from an eye roll.

“Elijah.” He introduced himself and glanced behind the pair, studying the table. “Champagne is always a sign of celebration.” Though it was not formulated as a question, his tone had notes of curiosity in it.

“Yes!” James confirmed as if breaking free from a trance. “Honeymooners,” he gestured between himself and y/n, “we’re honeymooning.”

Elijah took a second to speak, staring at the soldier in amusement, and y/n stepped in before James had a chance to deliver additional, and most likely ludicrous, lines. “Would you mind joining us for dinner?”

The politician was great at masking, but she was a spy, trained by the Natasha Romanoff to pick up every, and any, clue. “Everyone has a tell,” the redhead had observed, “learn to notice the smallest of reactions.”

It was a slight raise of his left eyebrow that had revealed his interest in the personal life of James Buchanan Barnes. His interest in James’s wife, in her.

“We’d hate to interrupt.” He spoke, and there it was again, the subconscious raise of his eyebrow.

“Please,” she smiled, softly placing a hand on Bucky’s bicep, “I’d love to hear about your program for troubled teens in foster systems.”

The soldier beside her realized y/n’s play, “we haven’t even ordered, yet,” he encouraged.

They had been asked to abandon the case, but a dinner with Elijah Williamson was the closest lead they’d ever get. The eight months they had spent working on the case had strangely been the most peaceful months he had ever spent at the compound. A snarky remark would slip past his or y/n’s lips in a while, but they had managed to act cordial. He burned with a desire to demolish HYDRA and anything that was left of it, and she had taken the hint, letting James lead the way. It had been the first time he had seen y/n for who she truly was — a great spy and agent, but she’d never know for he’d never tell her. The pair had built a balance between respect and hatred, and compliments had no place in their complex relationship.

She had always known James was a deadly assassin and an excellent spy, but she had never accounted James as a persuasive liar. By the time dessert came, Bucky had fabricated intricate stories of their wedding, life after retirement, and a random fake cat named Alpine. According to him, it had magnificent white fur and was adopted. He had lazily draped the metal arm across her chair’s backrest a while ago, and she could almost forget the motive behind the dinner. Bucky’s stories had painted him as a cool, loving husband, who had been eager for a honeymoon ever since the two got falsely married. That he hadn’t mentioned.

The tone of his voice remained charming throughout the night, and y/n silently reminded herself this dinner wasn’t a pleasure for Bucky or for herself, but simply a means to an end.

“James, do not take this the wrong way, but Amelie is wonderful.” Nancy, Elijah’s wife, spoke. “Very few people would be willing to forgive, and pardon me for the harsh phrasing, the Winter Soldier’s bloody past.”

James tensed at the words, maintaining his faux grin. “She is.”

Perhaps under different circumstances, she could see herself appreciating Nancy. The woman operated multiple charities, was a human rights lawyer, and a socialite. She oozed elegance, her graying blonde locks, pulled into a tight bun, perfectly complemented her auburn orange gown. She appeared to be out of touch with reality at times, but she was somewhat friendly and welcoming. Definitely, a great listener, and though being a great listener did not exclude someone from committing crimes, y/n had a hard time comprehending that this graceful woman could do as much as lift a finger to a small animal. Nancy couldn’t want half the population wiped out, could she?

“It was harsh,” she came to Bucky’s defense, “but I understand how it could appear from the outside looking in,” her tone had an edge sharper than she intended it to.

“Amelie’s a very forgiving person,” James shifted in his seat, removing his arm to refill everyone's wine glasses, “and she’s all mine.” The glimmer in his eyes when he turned to peek at her was a relieved thank you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she broke their brief eye contact to look at Nancy, “has blood on his hands, but it is not a burden James should bare, for it was HYDRA’s fault.” She noticed as his hand slowly crept underneath the table, harshly squeezing her thigh; a warning that it’s too soon to bring it up. “If HYDRA existed to this day, I would destroy it myself for everything they’ve done to him.” Bucky's firm grasp had painted goosebumps on her exposed skin, yet she refrained from smacking his palm away, opting to furtively push it aside.

“She asks me to get rid of spiders.” He forced a chuckle, studying y/n, and removed his hand. “My wife is too terrified to kill them.”

“Oh, I believe Amelie. A woman would do anything for the man she loves.” Nancy nodded, causing the two to share a pithy look.

“Nancy’s right, James, your wife is a wonderful young woman,” he peered at him through the top of his glass, “and Amelie, thank you for having common sense.”

She analyzed Elijah's body language, noticing a second tell.

The politician would gently tap on his glass, middle and index fingers barely making contact with the object before he'd push it away to knit his hands together. It had only begun after bottles of champagne they had shared as a group. He was intoxicated and most likely wouldn’t shy away from speaking voluntarily.

“What do you mean?”

“Last year I was on a trial instigated by some FBI fools.” The politician leaned back in his seat. “They accused me of leading HYDRA, except HYDRA doesn’t manifestly exist."

She caught the word manifestly, holding onto it. If he had ended the sentence with "HYDRA doesn't exist, manifestly," she might've let it slip, but, and perhaps she was reading too much into it given his underhanded past, "HYDRA doesn't manifestly exist"?

“The FBI does more damage than good.” She spoke with faux reassurance. “I wouldn’t find it hard to believe those knuckleheads put a lovely man through unimaginable horrors.”

“Careful, Sergeant, I might have to steal her.” Elijah’s comment earned him a playful smack on the shoulder from Nancy. “Darling, it was a joke. Nancy Williamson is the only woman I’d ever need.” He placed a tender kiss on her temples before turning his attention to James.

“What is the secret?” He questioned, pretending to be amazed by their affection. “We might need it a couple years down the road.” A sly smile stretched across his features.

“Don’t say that!” Nancy hiccuped as she drained her glass. “You’re both so young and so in love.”

We are young, y/n thought, but hell would freeze over before we fell in love.

The woman placed a gentle hand on Nancy’s before she could refill her glass. “It’s probably best if we called it a night.” She spoke, pretending to care whether Nancy was drunk or sober.

“I was skeptical of a dinner with the former Winter Soldier at first,” Elijah wrapped a hand around Nancy’s shoulders, pulling her into his embrace, “but it was great. I cannot believe you cook eggs with pesto, I must try that.”

“I do,” James nodded, unsure of what pesto was, only ever hearing about it from Tony, but supporting his lie nonetheless, “it’s a breakfast from heaven.”

Elijah laughed at his words, loud and carefree. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” He asked, glancing between them.

Her plan was to tan in an adults-only beach and drink her body weight in mediocre margaritas, as far away from James as she could possibly get, but an honest answer might not have gone down well.

“Surprisingly, we have not decided yet.”

“Great! Nancy and I are organizing a yacht party tomorrow, so put it on the list.”

James wasn’t a fan of yachts, parties, or spending time around y/n, but he was willing to sacrifice comfort if it meant a solid lead toward the demolition of HYDRA, “I cannot wait.”

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