#i mean objectively like i listen to some music that sucks balls frankly from most peoples perspective but im hot so.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar Ch. 7/ ?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (eventually, he he he) 

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined. 

WC: 2,276

Tags: gay panic, allusions to brother/brother incest, angst, Dean having graphic naughty thoughts 

Beta:  @daydream3r-xo - thank you for reading lovely 😘

A/N: To keep things realistic, as this chapter takes place one month on from the previous one, I figured I better make you guys wait that long too! JK, 🙃 I just suck spectacularly. So sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but I’m getting back into the swing of things, and promise the next chapter is already in progress and will be out next week 😊

Chapter 6

*

One month later

They’re out west working a vengeful spirit case and pretending, pretty effectively Dean thinks, that the events of nearly two months ago now have been forgotten. Sam doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t bring it up, that should be the end of that. Except it’s not. Inside, Dean’s head is a mass of tangled emotions and twisted thoughts and dark crevices broadcasting a siren’s song - like the allure of hearing a snippet of “Cherry Pie” seeping out into the dusty blackness of a desert parking lot illuminated by the warm neon outlines of poles and women - except the images hidden in those crevices aren’t mostly-naked women with too much makeup and not enough self respect. Hidden in the recesses of Dean’s mind are the images of Sam’s cock thrusting into a tight throat, and an echo of the words, “hey, if you ever need help figuring it out…”

Those words have haunted Dean more thoroughly than any ghost they’ve hunted, than any spectre they’ve burned. And Dean couldn’t manage to burn those words out of his memory. 

A knock on his shoulder draws Dean out of himself and back to the present, where the object of his fantasies sits blissfully unaware on the sticky black leather next to him. The desert is hot. 

“Are you listening to me man? Thought you said we were gonna pull over for the night, find some A/C?”

“Yeah, of -” Dean cleared his throat, dropping from the embarrassingly high octave his voice had come out in. “Of course, just uh, point me to the next exit I guess. There’s gotta be something coming up.” 

“Yeah, it looks like there’s a little resort town coming up just a coupl’a miles from here. If it’s a tourist spot they should at least have functioning air conditioning, maybe even a shower that isn’t broken,” Sam huffed. 

“Yeah, sounds good Sammy.”

*

To Sam’s relief they had a cool room and a clean shower about half an hour later, and he relished in the chance to stretch his legs and rinse off the dust that clung to him from driving with the windows down most of their way there. Towelling off his hair with a rough shake he lobbed the towel onto the bed and grabbed for a fresh t-shirt. 

“I’m going to grab some grub. You want to come or you gonna stay and read that nerd book you picked up in the last town?” 

“You mean Mythology of the Spirit in the American West?” Sam corrected Dean exasperatedly. 

“Yeah, like I said, nerd book. You coming with or not?” 

Sam huffed and considered his options. He was looking forward to sitting down with that book, but he’d also been cooped up in the impala for innumerable hours not too long ago, and it would feel good to walk around for a bit, even if his brother was being an ass. 

“Yeah, sure. I’m coming.” 

*

Dean picked out the first joint they walked by with bright lights and loud music. This was definitely a tourist town, because even on a weekday this place was packed, but Dean liked the noise and the buzz. It made a welcome change from the monotony of his thoughts broadcasting over a tinny radio all day. 

The place didn’t have much in the way of decor beyond the theme of ‘bar’. It was crowded with mostly guys - dressed a little more loudly than Dean would have expected but, hey, they were probably on vacation, cutting a little loose - and the occasional group of girlfriends had tables dotted around as well. It looked like your typical food and drink establishment. 

Sam slapped him on the arm and gestured to a free table on the other side of the room. Dean gave him a thumbs up and pointed to the bar, to indicate he’d grab the first round of drinks and hopefully find a menu while he was at it, he was starving. 

The bartender gave him a friendly smile when he asked for two draughts and pointed out the menus when Dean asked. Dean grabbed the first beer that was passed over to him and hung around at the bar while he looked through the menu and waited for Sam’s drink. That turned out to be a poor tactical decision, because standing alone at a bar and being as attractive as Dean is a combination that invited attention. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” 

Dean looked up, startled, into the face of the tanned, polo-shirt-wearing guy that had just spoken to him. He was giving Dean what was supposed to be an open, disarming smile, but which really just looked weirdly nervous. 

“Uh, hey,” Dean responded, leaving it open for the newcomer to pick up the conversation, but not really knowing what to say to him. 

“Nice night, huh?” 

“Um, yeah, sure-”

“Here’s your other drink, man,” the bartender cut across the exchange and dropped the second glass next to Dean’s first. 

“Thanks,” Dean grabbed quickly for the second drink and tucked the menu under his arm before grabbing his own. “Uh, nice to meet ‘ya,” he nodded awkwardly to polo-guy and hurried past to get back to Sam, who was playing on his phone at the table, leaving any thought of how weird that was back at the bar with the now deflated looking tourist. 

An hour later, suitably fed and two beers down, Sam suggested a game of pool. 

“You know I’m always up for beating your ass, Sammy.” 

Dean grinned and racked up the strangely coloured billiard balls in a bright pink frame. He’d never seen rainbow-coloured pool before but, whatever, people were weird. He gave Sam the break, and tried very hard to look anywhere but his baby brother’s ass as he bent stoically over the felt top and crashed the cue into the white ball, grinning smugly when he straightened up and rounded the table to pound a brightly striped ball into a corner pocket. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to avoid looking at Sam with his perv-o-vision on, but realised too late that the front-on view of Sam wasn’t any less enticing. 

The way his chestnut bangs curled over his brow and caught on his insanely long eyelashes - seriously was he wearing mascara or something? Dean yanked himself from his thoughts, only to be confronted with Sam’s eyes glancing up at him from behind those lashes and curls, like he wanted to check Dean was watching him while he took his shot. He holed another ball, and the clack and thunk of ball against porcelain and then wood shuddered through Dean and settled in his bones. The cocky smirk on Sam’s face took it one step further, and sent a shock of arousal through his chest and down. 

“I’m gonna go get us some refills,” Dean grunted and motioned to their mostly empty glasses. Sam shrugged and eyed his next shot, smirking to himself, under the assumption that Dean was bailing because he didn’t want to watch Sam slaughter him right out of the gate. He was partially right. At the rate he was going, Dean was going to be on the floor soon; and it had nothing to do with the pool or the alcohol, and everything to do with the thoughts Sam was stirring inside him. 

Up at the bar, Dean called for two more beers, and a double shot of something strong. The amber liquid was dropped in front of him quickly while the bartender waited for the taps to clear. Dean took a healthy gulp and let the burn in his throat ground him, reminding him of what he could control in this world. And maybe he couldn’t control his thoughts about Sammy, but he could control how mind-numbingly drunk he got to forget them. Taking the second and last gulp of the liquor, he nearly choked when he felt a tap on his shoulder. And he knew it wasn’t Sam, because he was watching Sam still bent over the pool table from across the room. 

“You drank that pretty damn quick,” the stranger chuckled deeply. “Good stuff?” 

“Strong stuff,” Dean grunted, and flagged the bartender for another, which was quickly poured out for him. 

“I know something else pretty strong that would feel good sliding down your throat.” This time Dean did choke on his liquor, prompting the stranger to thump him on the back, which Dean flinched away from violently. “Sorry hombre, didn’t mean to scare you like that,” the stranger had the decency to look slightly abashed, “it’s just… you got the best damn blowjob lips I’ve ever seen.” Dean almost swallowed wrong again. 

“I, uh…” Dean cleared his throat, grasping at straws for words that made any sense, and tried again. “That’s, um, that’s very flattering of you but I’m not… uh, ‘on your team’ amigo, sorry.” In a bid to hide his awkwardness, Dean went to down the rest of his drink. It stung on the way down, where the flesh of his throat was raw from choking. 

“Oh, sorry man, I thought uh- with your friend over there you two must be… well, among friends here.” He gestured vaguely around the room and Dean followed his motion, paying closer attention now than he had all night. And that’s when he noticed that a lot of the guys were sitting just a little closer than friends do, the groups of girlfriends dotted around all had pairs amongst them… His eyes darted back to Sam and the rainbow coloured billiard balls he hadn’t thought too hard about before. 

Dean’s stare hardened when he noticed that Sam, who had pocketed all his balls, effectively finishing the game while Dean was at the bar (and Dean did not let his heart strings tug proudly at that), was leaning casually against the side of the table, arms resting on his pool cue in a way that made him look carelessly sexy, eyes raking over a guy slightly shorter than him with spiky hair and a tight henley. His brain echoed with the sounds of shattering glass as he turned, wide-eyed, back to the incredibly forward man who had been hitting on him. 

“This is a gay bar?” Dean hoped he didn’t sound offensive, he was just confused. 

“Wow,” the stranger laughed, tucking a hand into his pocket, “you really are straight aren’t you?” 

He shook his head bemusedly and slapped a bill on the counter, gesturing for two of what Dean had just been downing. When they arrived, he clicked his drink against the glass he pushed in front of Dean. “Hope you forget whoever it is you’re drinking to forget about, and if you want some help with that, I don’t mind working with beginners.” The stranger left with a wink and made his way back to his group of buddies across the room, laughing off their sympathies at his strike out. 

Dean was left at the bar, puzzled, embarrassed, but vaguely flattered. Except then he remembered Sam was talking to someone, some jag-off who didn’t know how to buy clothes that fit him properly, and a feeling he wasn’t sure how to name writhed and burned in his chest. Eyeing his little brother over the drink he’d just been bought, Dean tried to do a little introspection for once. If he didn’t have a name for what he was feeling, then it was probably something new, right? It wasn’t his protective instincts kicking in, Sam could take this guy easily; could probably split him in half, Dean thought to himself ruefully. But then that thought conjured up an image Dean wasn’t mentally prepared for. 

Like he was watching it through the flickering of a candle, shadows jumping across the figures he was trying to focus on, Dean saw Sam grab the man’s hair and slam him over the pool table with his arm twisted behind his back, saw Sam pull down his too-skinny jeans and bury his face between the guy’s ass cheeks, saw Sam naked, slamming into him, splitting him in half, the muscles in his back flexing and glistening with sweat in the weird half light Dean was watching through. 

In a blink, Sam and his boy-toy had disappeared. Not just from Dean’s lecherous imaginings but also from Dean’s actual view. Panicked, he searched for Sam in the crowd, breath easing when he saw him further down the bar ordering drinks, but every muscle in his body clenched when he saw Sam’s hand land on his companion’s shoulder and squeeze. 

What the hell did Sam think he was doing? Picking some random guy up in a bar? That wasn’t like him at all, that was Dean’s thing. Except, when was the last time he’d gone home with someone? A few weeks? A month? With a gut-wrenching feeling, Dean realised that he hadn’t taken anyone home with him since Dani and Sam. So maybe picking people up in bars wasn’t his thing, if he hadn’t done it in so long. Maybe now it was Sam’s thing. 

But then what’s my thing? 

Dean scrambled in his head for a new identity, a new label. Something like ‘big brother’ that he could use to define himself, ground himself in the haze of confusion he felt himself slipping away in. Hunter? High-school dropout? Badass? Border-line alcoholic? He looked up from his empty glass and cast around his surroundings, frustrated and dazed and searching for an answer - and he locked eyes with Sam. 

You’re the guy who’s hopelessly in love with his little brother. 

Fuck.

***

Tags: @hawkerz12 @negans-lucille-tblr @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91 @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @petitgateau911 @natastic @marvelfansworld @delightfullykrispypeach @half-closeted-bi-girl @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @crashlyrose @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @j-ai-adore-dean @deandreamernp @miufel @alice101macwil @caitlinvd @disneysloot @itsthedoctah10 @devilsbby @leftlokiofpuppy @jackandthesoulmates​

#dive bar #wincest #spnkinkbingo #gay panic #bi!sam #dean has gay thoughts #sexy times

[mrshopkirk]

Moonlight Serenade (3/4)

@thatawkwardtinyperson: To Ivy and James, hoping this will brighten their day and give you something to smile about in darker days. Because you guys make me smile, no matter how dark my day is.

Warnings: overly confident and flirty Bucky, some swearing, sexual innuendo maybe, lots of throwing people around, poor grammar and spelling

Words: 2563

A/N: Let me start with this (again): not everything in this fic is historically accurate. I know… I was in way over my head writing the dances as English isn’t my native language. But frankly my dears, it was so much fun to write that I simply don’t give a shit if the spelling and grammar suck. You’ll just have to bear with me.

Choosing the song for this chapter wasn’t difficult: Sing Sing Sing by Benny Goodman! The spotify playlist will be updated as the story continues. Ivy’s song is number three. The first two songs are Annie’s songs (read part 2).

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

Previous:

“Goodbye Bucky and thank you for the dance,” she softly says.

He twirls a lock of her hair around his finger. “The pleasure was all mine, believe me. Thank you, bubble gum girl.”

And they part ways, Bucky on his way to dance with another and Annie walks towards her friend.

“Well?” her friend asks.

Annie looks at Bucky and then at her friend.

“It was FUCKING AWESOME!”

After about an hour and a half of dancing Bucky heads to the bar to get a beer.

“Looking good out there, Barnes,” Nat turns to him on her barstool. “Having a good time?” She smirks.

“Better than expected.” He gives her a big toothy smile.

The ladies that are hoping to get the next dance are already lining up and give Natasha some dirty looks, jealous that she’s the object of Bucky’s attention and they’re not. She, on the other hand, has men lining up.

“Alright, fella’s. Who’s next to show me a good time?” They’re all trying to get to her first and knock Sam’s drink out of his hands making him scowl at them but they’re all to preoccupied fighting for the redhead’s attention.

“How are you holding up, Stevie?” Bucky swings his arm over Steve’s shoulders who’s leaning on the bar, head bowed down. All he gets in response is a groan.

“How do you think it’s going?” He turns his head to look at his friend who’s grinning at him. “We both have ladies fawning over us and it doesn’t matter what I say, they just keep pushing and trying to…” he pauses. “Well, you know,” he looks around to see if no-one is listening, “to get me to sleep with them.” He whispered the last bit of the sentence, looking at the label on his bottle, feeling embarrassed. He tilts his head sideways and furrows his brows. “I see them do it to you as well. I can tell by the way they act they’re asking you the same thing. But all you do is smile and say no and they back off. Why doesn’t that work for me?” His voice gets panicky now. “I mean, they just keep going on and on.”

Bucky takes a swig of his beer and leans closer to Steve. “That’s simple. You see, Stevie, you’re Captain America, poster boy for all that’s good and virtuous. I, on the other hand, am the winter soldier, the bad boy.”

Steve nods feverishly, hanging on to every word his friend is saying, like he’s about to tell him the biggest secret on earth.

“And all these dames wanna do is corrupt the shy good boy. That’s the game they’re playing. It’s exciting so they’ll keep on trying. What they want from me is answered by a simple yes or no because all they wanna do with me,” Bucky leans closer to his ear, “is fuck.”

Steve’s spits out his beer, making Bucky snicker. He takes another swig and leans back against the bar smirking at his friend. “You have no idea what they want me to do to them with that arm of mine.”

Steve’s swallowing hard, face flushed red as Bucky slams down his bottle on the bar and yells, “Alright, who of you pretty ladies is next?” He looks over his shoulder and winks at a baffled Steve.

A bunch of women rush towards Bucky, all yelling “Me! Me! Me!”

Bucky cocks his head, smiling a big smile and Steve swears one of them might just faint. “Whoa! Ladies, please. There’s plenty of me to go around and the night is still young.”

“Yeah, but you’re not!” Sam yells in the background, earning him glares from the women and he hastily makes his way to the dance floor with his date to escape them.

Bucky’s enjoying himself and savoring every minute of this evening. Yet he’s not able to escape the nagging feeling in the back of his head that it will all vanish into thin air as soon as the music stops. But for now, for now it’s good.

The ladies are almost fighting for his attention and he’s pretty sure, even though he was very in demand in the forties, he wasn’t this popular. He realizes he’s been lost in thought too long and needs to decide whom to dance with next. His eyes skim across the ladies in front of him and that’s when she catches his eye.

She’s standing at the back of the crowd, hand on her hip, head tilted to the side, a small smile gracing her face. This dame is not caught up in the bickering over him. She knows her worth and Bucky stares at her. The women turn, following his gaze and they all begrudgingly part ways as Bucky walks straight to her, a smile plastered on his face. He stops in front of her; hands tucked in his trouser pockets and looks down at her. She’s tiny, 5 ft at the most, and really cute and a gorgeous Latina mix. Her curves are in all the right places and he can’t deny it does wonderful things to him.

She’s wearing a simple yet pretty black button up shirt with a small collar and short puffy sleeves. Her hips sway delightfully in a bright red A-line skirt, not full, not pencil but right in the middle, and a hemline just below the knee, when she takes a few steps towards Bucky. Black and red, it’s a combination that never fails, he thinks.

Her natural beauty is enhanced with just some black mascara and a light eye shadow. Rouge brushed lightly on her cheekbones to give a natural rosy look and matte red lipstick on her naturally full plump lips. Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he looks at the two little beauty spots above her lip and can’t help but think that whoever gets to kiss those lips is one hell of a lucky man. Her face is flawless and fresh looking. She hasn’t overdone her make up like some ladies tonight. Less is always better than more to Bucky.

Her black hair is parted to the side with one victory roll rolled up and the other to the side. Her curls are piled atop of her head in a lush updo and loose curls resting on her shoulders. She looks like Betty Grable in that peek-a-boo shot, only Betty was a blonde. Wonderful, I remembered something and it’s an absolutely useless fact, Bucky thinks to himself.

“So what’s your name, doll?”

“Ivy.”

“I love your eye for detail, Ivy,” he looks at the small red star pin brooch on the collar of her shirt. He takes a step closer, chests almost touching each other and she can feel his body heath and his breath ever so lightly fanning her face.

Bucky no longer looks like the man that danced the opening dance, Ivy thinks. He’s no longer wearing his three-piece suit; his vest long gone and his tie hanging lose around his neck. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, top buttons open. His shorter hair is now tousled from all the dancing and his cheeks are slightly flushed.

Following his fingers with her eyes, Bucky holds the pin between his finger and thumb, gently touching the smooth cold surface.

“May I?” he asks softly and she nods, noticing he doesn’t take his eyes of the trinket. He is gentle and careful when he unhooks the pin, his eyes never leaving it. As soon as it’s in his hands he moves to her left, his cool metal fingers sliding under the hem of her puffy sleeve, goosebumps erupting on her skin as a result. She draws a sharp breath when the pin pushes through the fabric of her sleeves. He looks pretty pleased with the result. “Now we match,” he snickers, wiggling his left shoulder.

“So what do you want to dance, sweetheart?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Anything is fine by me.”

Bucky wets his lips and squints his eyes a little, making her expectant about what he’s thinking or going to suggest.

“I can’t help but notice that you’re wearing swing shoes, miss Ivy.” They both look down at her red shoes with chunky heels and Mary Jane straps. “So, how about that?” He pauses a second, leaning in a bit closer, looking her straight in the eye. “Can you swing? Like really swing?”

Not everybody likes to swing as it’s lots of spinning, flipping, and throwing the ladies around but it is a great dance for a crowded dance floor. Bucky’s hoping she’s up for it. Looking up at him the sultry smile that’s already on her face grows into beautiful wide smile and it tells him all he needs to know.

“Can you?”

“I’m a ducky shincracker if I say so myself.” He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, jutting out his chin with confidence. As the band starts a new song, they both giggle. “It’s like they know what we were thinking, Ivy. Do you like Benny Goodman?”

“Hell yeah,” and she grabs Bucky tie and pulls him to an open spot on the dance floor. Bucky is looking around the ballroom.

“What are you looking for, honey?”

“I’m trying to avoid a fist in my face. Because you can’t tell me a doll like you isn’t rationed.”

“If you’re asking me if I’m going steady, then the answer is yes.” She points at an impressive 6’4” man leaning against the wall. “That’s the man who’s taking me home tonight, that’s my husband James.”

Bucky looks at the man and gives him a courteous nod. Ivy still has his tie in a firm grasp while Bucky has moved his arm around her back suddenly not feeling very comfortable anymore.

“Uh, are you sure he’s okay with this?” He leans in closer, a serious tone in his voice. “He’s not going to blow a fuse, is he?”

“He got me this dance, sweetie, don’t you worry about your pretty little face,” she cuts him short. “He’s just getting the silent treatment right now. Still has to make up for not putting the eggs in the fridge.”

“He- uh, what?”

Benny Goodman’s Sing Sing Sing is in full effect when Bucky and Ivy hit the dance floor. As soon as he takes Ivy’s hand, Steve appears in sight. Bucky mouths an apology to him as he has yet another fantastic dame to dance with and his poor friend has a woman trusted into his arms who drapes herself all over him like the previous one, not caring that this isn’t a slow dance.

“They’re really going after him, aren’t they?”

“You have no idea, doll.”

Bucky and Ivy start like pro’s in a beautiful little V-shape angle, Ivy leaning a little forward into Bucky’s left arm, letting him feel her weight to lead her throughout the dance. It’s pretty easy for Ivy to follow Bucky’s lead. He didn’t lie about being a good dancer, that’s for sure. His enormous strong frame pushes her where she needs to be and she feels safe in his arms. He will not let her go. After so many hours of people dancing, the room is pretty hot and Bucky feels like a freaking furnace in overdrive whenever she comes close, so his cool left hand is a welcoming sensation. Every time he gives a firm and gently push with his left hand, their fingers intertwine momentarily, cooling her warm hand.

It takes a few moments getting used to each other, including a little collision between Ivy’s face and Bucky’s chest.

“A little rusty, soldier?” Ivy grins.

“Nah, ma’am. I can assure you I cleaned and oiled my arm this morning. No rust on me.” He looks down at her smiling; thanking his lucky stars she hit his right side which is still somewhat softer than the metal appendix. He steals a glance at her husband who luckily doesn’t seem upset.

“Ready to go a little faster, Miss Ivy?”

“Ready when you are, Mister Barnes,” giving him a little smile, her rhythm never faltering.

Grabbing Ivy behind her back with his left arm, he swings her forward over his hip while she swings her legs completely over to his right and immediately back again and over his back in one swift move. He twirls her around a few times as soon as she her feet touch the ground again. They spin fast, so fast, away from each other and back into each other’s arms again in perfect sync. Every so often Ivy gets tossed over Bucky’s back.

How she manages to actually speak during all of this is beyond her, but she does anyway.

“Bucky?”

“Yes, ma’am?” The strong drawl in his voice makes her smile widely.

“How firm are those thighs of yours?” Looking up at him through her thick eyelashes, she bites her lip.

He twirls her once, pulling her in close to his chest and leans in. “Say no more. I’ve got you, doll,” he whispers in what Ivy can only describe as a husky bedroom voice. He winks for good measure and pushes her out for a few good spins, making her gain momentum and Ivy takes a few steps forward, launching herself to jump on his outstretched right leg. Immediately Bucky dips her, keeping a firm hold on her back and her left hand while her legs are still securely wrapped around his thigh. He spins her around multiple times in that position making her a little giddy. Though all of it takes place in a matter of seconds, she has time enough to think that there are hundreds of women wanting to be exactly where she is, on Bucky Barnes’ thigh.

As they dance, both with big smiles on their faces, Bucky notices the look on James’ face. He looks at his wife as if she’s a goddess. The way he looks at her, Bucky can tell that he’s a man that worships her day and night.

“Sweetheart? Can your husband dance too?”

Ivy cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah, of course.”

“Do you want to dance together?”

“Like a threesome?” She jokingly smiles, making Bucky blush five shades of red. “Count me in.”

Bucky pulls Ivy close, her back against his chest, and beckons James over. The tall man smiles, shakes his head but comes over anyway. As Bucky and Ivy dance, he takes over when Ivy spins from Bucky’s arms into his, eliciting a loud laugh from her. James swings to the rhythm with his wife until she outstretches her arm and ends up with not one, but two gorgeous men holding her hands. Whenever one dances with her the other circles them waiting for his cue to take over. After a few rounds James bows and moves to the side, giving his wife a few more moments to dance with Bucky.

Bucky has one last move to end the dance. He gives her a solid spin and before she knows what’s happening he’s bend down, grabbing her behind her knees with his chilly left arm, sending shivers down her spine. His right arm is across her stomach and he flips her effortlessly 360 degrees over his arm. When the big band stops playing he pulls her in for a hug.

“This has been one of the best dances of the evening, doll. Thank you,” he whispers in her hair. He takes her hand and walks her to her husband. Pulling him in for a hug and a clap on the back, he thanks James for the lovely dance with his wife, telling them to take good care of each other and wishing them both a goodnight and a happy life together.

Tags: @callamint  @laterthantherabbit  @aubzylynn  @you-and-bucky  @harleyqueen7  @beccaanne814-blog  @hellomissmabel  @hardcorehippos  @buckyywiththegoodhair  @thatawkwardtinyperson  @daddys-got-a-ring  @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes

#marvel #marvel fanfic #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky imagine #moonlight serenade #hopkirk writes #masterlist