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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

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What You’ve Got

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: With Bucky’s professional career taking off, you couldn’t be more proud. But the major leagues can open a lot of new doors for people, and you’re left wondering if what you have is still enough.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, insecurities, ftlotg!bucky and his lovely simp self <3

a/n: This is a oneshot for my series ‘For the Love of the Game’, but it can be read by itself for some baseball bucky fluff :)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

He had no idea who you were—that much became clear the second he plopped down in the seat beside yours and started talking about Bucky’s many admirers.

You hadn’t really expected the assistant manager to recognize you. With the new recruits only just joining the team, you were still a newbie in the stadium. And that was fine; you’d have plenty of time to get acquainted with everything in Bucky’s work-life as time went on.

Just not right now, and definitely not as some guy named Joe—as his name tag suggested—glanced down at your “Barnes” jersey and decided that you’d enjoy the inside scoop on the Dodgers' newest pitcher.

“You should see him after the away games, signing like a million jerseys,” he grinned, and your pride swelled. Until he continued. “Getting like a million phone numbers too. I swear, that guy’s a legend.”

Your chest twisted uncomfortably, the laugh you let out half-hearted at best. “Oh, I bet.”

Joe continued, “The ladies in the PT room love him too. I hear them talking about him every time he comes in to get his shoulder iced.”

You bit into your lip as he dove into another story, thumbing the plastic edge of your popcorn container. You’d probably hand the box over to Nat when she met you in the stands; your appetite was shot and not likely to return for the rest of the night.

You attempted to tune Joe out as the team began warming up, searching the field until you finally spotted Bucky. He was swinging his arm out and laughing at something Steve had said, the simple sight of him easing some of the tension in your body. Because he was yours, and you were confident in that.

At least you were…about twenty minutes ago.

“Supermodels love baseball players, you know?” Joe said, a mouthful of chips finally reaching your ears. “And they show up in those little skirts, finding their way onto the field after games. Lots of them ask for Barnes.”

The leggings you picked out this morning suddenly felt foolish, and you covered your knees with your palms as if that would make a difference. Your jaw felt impossibly tight as Joe started talking about the following your boyfriend now had on social media. You wanted to calm down, but the nausea sweeping through you felt anything but calm.

Bucky was talking to supermodels? And flirty physical therapists? And girls that were throwing their numbers at him? You knew that he was going to garner a large fanbase the second he went pro, but facing the reality of it wasn’t something you enjoyed.

Who were you compared to a celebrity… just some girl he met in college that followed him across the country? And you knew who was liking his pictures on Instagram—what they looked like and exactly everything they had that you didn’t. You weren’t even engaged yet and it was still so early in his career; Bucky could leave you for one of those girls and there wouldn’t even be a whisper in the press.

“I could probably put in a good word for you. Barnes doesn’t seem to take people home, but there’s always a first for everything.”

He didn’t seem to?

“Uh, thank you,” you choked out, the tightness in your throat making it hard to speak. “I actually just remembered that I have to go so… thanks.”

You left your popcorn on Joe’s lap, not sticking around to watch as he lifted it up and asked if you were okay.

You weren’t okay. You felt confused and worried and inadequate, and the worst part was that you hadn’t even expected this. So caught up in his smiles and his adoring touches, you forgot that with Bucky’s new position, came new opportunities. Opportunities that didn’t involve you.

You thought back to yesterday, to last week, to the last few weeks. Nothing was odd about the way he acted, even when he went out of town for away games. He never treated you differently. If anything, he was more excited to see you after he’d been gone for a little while.

Someone bumped into you by the ice cream cart as your breath hitched. Being more excited could’ve meant he was hiding something, or maybe overcompensating for his guilt.

Bucky wouldn’t cheat on you—that much you were sure of. But he could’ve been guilty because he was bored. After going away and seeing cities full of beautiful women, having to come home to you was surely a downgrade. But he couldn’t just leave you when you had moved for him… became his responsibility.

A vibration in your pocket pulled you from your thoughts, your fidgety fingers unlocking the screen to find an aloof text from Natasha.

Where are you? Just made some guy get out of your seat.

You ran a hand over your forehead, typing out a quick, coming!, and taking a few breaths to calm down before you faced Natasha. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she would notice something was wrong if you didn’t sort yourself out first.

She noticed anyway, even with your deep breathing.

“Something happen?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat as you slid into yours. “You look stressed.”

You tightened your grip on the armrests, briefly, before shooting her a smile. “Nope! Just a super long line for the bathroom.”

She raised a brow at you, but didn’t push the topic. You appreciated that, but it also meant that you had to spend the rest of the game with all of your thoughts, rolling over all of the possible scenarios that Joe had placed in your mind.

Bucky had smiled up at you a few times between innings, but you could tell by his occasional furrowed brow that you weren’t doing a great job smiling back. That, and Natasha had to nudge your arm a few times just to get you to look down there, something you usually needed no reminder for. And Bucky definitely noticed.

The game ended. You were pretty sure The Dodgers won.

Instead of rushing down to greet Bucky as you usually would, you hung back, lingering at the edge of the field. You watched as he did in fact sign a million jerseys with a smile on his face, and you also watched the majority of those jerseys go to women. That wasn’t his fault, but tonight, it stung.

As the fans started to dwindle down, you noticed Bucky’s head on a swivel. He still had on that charming smile as he stood at the wall by the stands, but every time he looked over his shoulder, it dimmed a bit. You felt a small twinge of guilt in your stomach for not going to him; it wasn’t as if he did anything wrong.

You stepped onto the dirt after flashing the security guard your pass, and Bucky’s next head turn was accompanied by a bigger smile. He quickly sent an apology to the small line of people and jogged over to you, a glimmer of joy bouncing off the floodlights of the field.

“Hey, baby,” he beamed, pressing a kiss to your temple and squeezing the life out of you—your normal routine. “You have any trouble getting down here?”

You squeezed him back, the coolness of the night air held in the seams of his clothes. “No, sorry, Buck. The line for the bathroom was just… really long.”

They really needed to sort that line out.

Bucky pulled you away from his chest, encasing your face in his hands. “You feeling okay? Nat said something about—”

“I’m okay!” you interrupted. With Bucky so close to you, holding you like this, any mention of earlier would probably make you tear up. And he had just won a game; you weren’t going to bring him down anymore than you already suspected you were.

You reached up for his hand, sliding it over until you could press a kiss to his palm. “Congrats on your win! You killed it, honey.”

There was a small flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he looked down at you, his thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek when you smiled. He tilted your face up and he kissed you, in front of all the people still in the stadium, and you were okay for a moment; you weren’t thinking about anything other than him, and you were okay.

But then he stopped kissing you, and a call from the tunneled-hall made your nausea return.

“Bucky! We need to get some tape on your arm before you leave!”

The PT girls. Wonderful.

Bucky kissed your nose and then your forehead; he tucked your hair behind your ear and fixed your sweater and then he promised he would be right back, but you felt empty as soon as his hands left you. You were stuck leaning against a fence as he ushered the girls into the tunnel, not able to hear him as he asked them to please hurry, you were waiting for him.

You really weren’t up for the drinks Steve had proposed in the parking lot. You felt sad and tired and even with Bucky’s arm slung over your shoulders, you felt lonely, somehow.

But Steve had said, “a bunch of the team’s heading over to that bar on Lincoln,” and you weren’t about to ask Bucky to stay away from that. Not after all the revelations you had made tonight—all of the ways you were probably holding him back.

So you sat at the table surrounded by a few players you were getting to know, and you nursed the drink Bucky had ordered for you even though you insisted you were fine. You did it for him, because if you couldn’t offer him much, at least you could laugh with his coworkers.

“Nah, Bucky would totally beat all of you. What was your record, Buck? Like six in a row?” Steve laughed from across the table.

Bucky’s response echoed from his chest, the arm he had slung over your chair keeping the two of you close. “God, Steve. Sure, at one time I could shotgun six beers in a row, but I’m pretty sure I’d pass out if I tried that now. And y/n’s CPR certification needs to be renewed, so I’m not trying that tonight.”

A small laugh left you—a spark of happiness warming your cheeks—and Bucky looked down at you with light eyes. The rest of the table had started in on Steve instead, so Bucky took the opportunity to whisper by your ear, “Finally.”

You scrunched your face up in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just—you’ve been huffing out those fake laughs all night. Thought I’d never get a real one outta ya.”

“I have not.”

He slid his arm from the back of your chair and tugged you closer to his chest, the pale lights in the bar making him look softer than usual. “You have. You wanna tell me what’s up?”

You glanced back around the table, catching Natasha’s eye along the way. She was giving you that knowing look you always hated back in college, the one that made you spill all your secrets to her before she even had to ask for them. You averted your gaze almost instantly, instead focusing on the dart board above Steve’s head.

Bucky didn’t seem to appreciate your silence, keeping his voice low as he prodded, “Y/n, you gotta tell me what’s wrong or I won’t—”

“On the house,” a gentle voice interrupted. “For the win.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, keeping your eyes glued to the pitcher of beer now set on the table so that you wouldn’t have to acknowledge the waitress winking at your boyfriend. Bucky didn’t acknowledge it either, eyes still boring into the side of your face, but you seemed to miss that.

It took another moment of her heels clicking away before Bucky finally turned away from you, directing his next words to the rest of the table. “I think we’re gonna head home for the night. My arm’s killing me.”

Shit.

You were messing everything up.

The chorus of goodbyes made you feel heavier as you walked out of the bar, even with Bucky’s hand on your back to guide you. His thumb kept creating patterns in your jacket and it was making you want to cry. You were just a few paces from his car when he spoke up again.

“Baby, you gotta tell me what’s wrong,” Bucky pleaded, turning to face you, hand still steady on your back. “I can’t fix whatever I did until you tell me.”

Your lip trembled as he looked at you, your lungs fighting to keep a steady breath. “You didn’t do anything, Bucky. I swear.”

His jaw clenched; Bucky looked up to the sky for a beat, and then back down at you with a troubled gaze. He leaned down to brush his nose against yours, closing his eyes and pressing you closer.

“I’ve been gone a lot,” he began. Your heart clenched. “I haven’t been around you as much as I used to. I know you’ve noticed.”

Your next breath was accompanied by a rogue tear rolling down your cheek, and you prayed that he wouldn’t notice. He did, his eyes snapping open the second he felt it against his skin.

“Bucky, it’s okay, I get it,” you comforted. “You don’t have to feel… tied down to me. I know there’s a whole world out there that you’re seeing for the first time. I can figure things out on my own.”

He leaned back, shaking his head and bringing a hand up to cradle your neck. “What?”

“You're a big shot now,” you smiled sadly. “And I’m so proud of you. You have fans all over the country and I can’t wait to see everything accomplish. Your, uh—one of your managers was telling me about… about the supermodels and stuff and I—”

“Y/n, stop. Stop it. Supermodels? I don’t even—what are you talking about?”

You sniffed, a few more traitorous tears escaping your eyes. “Buck, come on. You’re like a celebrity now. You have girls throwing themselves at you and you’re going to stay with your college girlfriend? I mean, Joe didn’t even think you’d want to take me home—”

“Joe? You were talking to Joe?”

“Well, Joe was talking to me while I sat there, but yes.”

Bucky’s next laugh was almost angry, but that emotion was nowhere on his face as he titled your head up, his fingers running up into your hair. “Look at me, alright?” he insisted. “I don’t care how big I get. I don’t care who ‘throws themself at me’. I’m gonna want you until I don’t even remember my own name anymore. And even then, you’ll still be the first person I look for in every room.”

He brought his other hand around to your waist, leaning down until his forehead was prone to yours. “Can’t believe your were talking to fuckin’ Joe. That guy’ll say anything to sell a VIP ticket.”

You reached up to grip the material of his jacket between your fingers. “I’m sorry, I just—Bucky, there are girls out there dying to date you. Girls that have a lot more to offer than me.”

Bucky tsked, his expression crumbling. He looked disappointed and anguished, the darkness of the parking lot only giving you hints of the depth conveyed there. He kissed you, twice, and then he spoke into the air between you.

“You were the one that loved me when I was that asshole back in college. You believed in me and you came all the way out here because you still do. You know I’m shit at words, but baby, I don’t want anything other than what you’ve got.”

Your laugh sounded strangled and wet from tears, but it brought Bucky’s lips back down to yours, so you knew it must have been genuine. He kissed you and he backed you up against his car and then he kissed you harder. It felt like college again—kissing in a bar parking lot—and you realize that everything with Bucky might still feel like that. For the rest of your life. And that wasn’t something you were going to complain about.

When you parted, you leaned back a little, getting a full view of his face as you whispered you loved him over the low music from the bar. He looked more than a little relieved at the words.

“You know I dragged you out here because I thought you were leavin’ me?” he asked, a tinge of disbelief in his tone, his thumb wiping away your leftover tears. “Was gonna beg on my knees for you to stay. Then we get out here and you’re trying to kick yourself out or something.”

“Well your weird friend Joe made it sound like you were Mr. Worldwide with the ladies or something. It was very jarring coming from a man I’d literally never met before.”

“Mr. Worldwide with the ladies?”

“Can you not make fun of me right now, I’m fragile.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, wrapping you in his arm and kissing your hair. “And for the record, Joe’s not my friend. I mean maybe he will be. After I yell at him for making my girl cry.”

You tapped his chest in reprimand. “Don’t yell at your coworkers. It makes for a hostile work environment.”

“I play sports, baby. The entire field is hostile.” He reached behind you and yanked the car door open, helping you in before leaning forward to kiss you again. “And also for the record, I love you too.”

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