i'm the funniest person i know
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pov: you’re dating jamie and this is your camera roll
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Fight, Fight, Fight
Bucky x Reader
One Shot
College AU
Summary: I see your “there was only one bed” and raise you “there was only one shower” with a sprinkle of “enemies to…still enemies but also lovers”
Natasha Romanov slid Sam Wilson a glass of vodka. A literal glass of vodka. Filled almost to the brim with the strong, clear alcohol a few drops sailed over the rim and left a wet trail as the glass came to a stop.
“Drink.”
Who was he to argue with a Russian about drinking? He took a large swallow, letting it burn down his throat and wash over the knot of nerves in his stomach.
“You have to say something, Sam. It’s your house.”
He nodded. Natasha was right. When he put up the flyers in the student union offering the spare bedrooms in the house he inherited from his grandfather he thought it’d be a win-win. He was in his senior year, about to graduate and in need of some cash flow: enter roommates. He thought it would be like living in the freshman dorms all over again, bonding with people like Steve and building lifelong friendships. But no, while the roommates individually were just fine, it was when they were together that brought Sam to sit at his dining room table practically chugging eight ounces of cheap vodka.
Natasha was nice enough to support him, maybe nice isn’t the word, annoyed enough to help him. They had only just started dating after being introduced at Steve’s birthday party two months ago, but she had been witness to too many squabbles, slammed doors, and sabotage.
“There’s gonna be a civil war in this house in less than,” Sam glanced at his phone, “ten minutes.”
“That’s why you drink.
-
Your books were heavy and kept slipping from your arms. You adjusted them as you walked but that adjustment would only work for a few minutes before you had to perform another juggling act. The house was only two blocks from campus, the air was cool and breezy, you were pretty sure you aced your civ test, but you were far from content, after all finals were only a month away.
Bucky was walking just in front of you, headphones blaring music that even you could hear. He held a single, slim textbook and a pencil in on hand and his phone in the other. That’s why you were mad. Bucky insisted on walking home together after class, but you never actually walked home together. You worked hard in class while he coasted on through. And yet you knew you would both pass.
When you reached out to Sam about the open room in his house you were hopeful, optimistic even, about a new living situation that didn’t involve sleeping two feet from someone else in a dorm room that was always too cold. Had you known Bucky Fuckin Barnes had also called up Sam you would have stayed huddled under your blankets with earplugs while your roommate had sex in the bed two feet away from you, loudly. Anything was better than being stuck with the guy in and out of classes, but it was too late.
You hit an uneven patch of concrete, stumbling and losing your hold on your textbooks. You growled in frustration as they tumbled to the ground, bending down to collect them. Every week, every fucking week, you had to carry four textbooks to and from class. Every week Bucky saw you carry four textbooks while he carried practically nothing. He never offered to help, not once.
"Hey asshole.” You called, knowing Bucky wouldn’t hear you over his music, but it felt good to yell.
“You could fucking stop and help me for once.”
Bucky stopped and turned, he pulled an ear bud out of his ear and regarded you with a fake smile. He didn’t move, didn’t even raise his voice to match yours.
“Buy a backpack.”
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Sam’s head shot up from the table top at the sound of the front door slamming open and hitting the wall. The house shook, or maybe that was just him. Natasha swiftly stomped toward the comotion, coming back in less than a minute with strong hands gripped onto the shoulder of both you and Bucky, who were still screaming.
“Backpacks were literally made to hold books-”
“Or you could just take one or two-”
“Why would I help yo-”
“QUIET!”
Natasha’s sharp tone cut through the animosity between you as she pushed you into a chair opposite Sam. She walked Bucky to the chair at the far end and stood behind him, arms crossed and mouth tense.
“Sam.” She prompted.
Sam sighed, wishing he was still face down on the table in blissful, drunk, silence. He took a deep breath, sparing a glance at his girlfriend before opening his mouth. He should have prepared something, but the booze had loosened his lips and now he was just coming out with it.
“I can’t have it anymore. The fighting, the yelling…I’m done. I like you both and I’m sorry to do this but-”
“Sam, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” You started.
“Dude, come on we’re just-” Bucky spoke over you.
“You don’t speak for me, Bucky.”
“I’m just trying to apologize to Sam for your shitty behavior. Since you don’t seem to want to do it.”
“Bullshit, Barnes!”
Sam slammed his palms against the table top. He stood suddenly, a wave of dizziness sending the room into a tailspin. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and finally just said it.
“I want you out.”
-
It was mid semester. Dorms were full and open rooms were few and far between. Sam agreed to give you both a week. It wasn’t enough time, but between classes and homework at least you barely saw Bucky.
Wanda had found the apartment. Said it was good practice for when she got her real estate license. You couldn’t pass up her help so you agreed to let her do some of the heavy lifting.
The place she found for you was on the other side of town. One bedroom, no washer or dryer, and on the fourth floor. The building was old too. Faded wallpaper and flickering lights lead you down the hallway towards the unit. The realtor had given you a code to the lockbox hanging from the doorknob, but the box was already hanging open. You were about to text Wanda when the door opened.
“Bucky?”
-
“Wait, you two are moving out…together?”
Sam shook his head in disbelief, hoping he just heard them wrong.
“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, crossing your arms and glaring at Bucky.
Bucky glared right back, eyes hard and hands busy aggressively making a sandwich. He was getting mustard on the countertop, like usual.
“Okay, one of you can stay here and the other can take the apartment?”
Bucky, finished with his sandwich but leaving the counter dirty, joined you at the table and with his mouthful answered simply.
“Can’t.”
“Can’t?” Sam echoed.
“I paid the first and last month’s rent. I’m not trusting her to pay that back to me.”
You nodded, “And it’s my name on the application. I’m not risking him tanking my credit score when he doesn’t pay rent.”
You snatched the remaining half of Bucky’s meal right out of his hands, taking a large bite, savoring Bucky’s protest more than the actual food.
“God, who destroys a sandwich with this much mustard?”
“It wasnt your fucking sandwich! ”
Sam could only watch as the conversation digressed into yet another fight. How you two were going to share a one bedroom was beyond him, but at least he would get some peace and quiet.
-
You woke up, not suddenly, but gradually with enough time to know it was still dark before your eyes even opened. You also knew you were cold and that your body was huddled too close to the edge of the mattress. Behind you there was a loud, sudden snort that made you finally open your eyes.
You were in fact at the edge of the mattress, your blankets nowhere on your person, and your phone screen showed the time to be 4:03 am. You turned, squinting against the fluorescent lights shining through the cracks in the blinds. Bucky was on his back, loud snores erupting from his open mouth, blankets bunched up around his body keeping him warm. He looked deep in sleep and that just wouldn’t do.
With both hands gripped tightly on the comforter you yanked with all your might. You pulled and tugged until Bucky was completely bare, his exposed skin erupting in goosebumps. The snoring stopped, Bucky turned on his side, eyes still closed, to grope blindly for his missing warmth. You smiled ruefully and turned your back to him, enjoying the thrill of victory as you shut your eyes.
The mattress squeaked and rocked as Bucky flopped around like a fish out of water and suddenly your victory was stolen by a man who wasn’t even conscious.
With a deep groan of resignation you turned over and dropped the comforter over Bucky’s form, tucking the corner under his shoulder to trap in heat. Bucky exhaled deeply and settled into the covers. You turned your back to him again. Making sure the blankets were tucked under you as well.
-
Natasha didn’t think Sam should be worrying about his old roommates as much as he was. But here they were out to dinner with Steve and Sam had barely said two words in as many minutes. Steve threw her a look, one that asked her to explain, but she only rolled her eyes and elbowed her boyfriend.
“Hm?
"I was asking how class was going, Sam.” Steve gently reminded him. “But something tells me you got something other than finals on your mind.”
Sam heaved a huge sigh.
“I can’t stop thinking about them.”
-
You vaguely remembered your alarm going off, but sleep dragged you back under as soon as you made the offensive noise stop. Next time you woke up there was much more appeal. The sun was soft, its rays warming your face. Your body was cocooned in a pleasant mix of skin and sheets. You hummed, turning into the warmth, breathing in the familiar scent of your bedmate. You couldn’t even drum up irritation at the smell of his 3-n-1 shampoo.
Responsibility tickled your brain, urging you to untangle from Bucky and get ready for class. You did just that, albeit reluctantly, sitting up and grabbing your phone.
You overslept. Your final was in thirty minutes.
“Shit!” You hissed, jumping out of bed.
“Whatisit?” Bucky grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“We missed our alarm. Civ final’s in thirty minutes."
You pulled off your pajama bottoms, stepping out of the pool they made around your ankles. Bucky was up and out of bed by the time you pulled off your shirt.
"Fuck!”
On long legs he sprinted into the bathroom, but you were there to catch the door before he slammed it shut.
“What are you doing?”
You shoved your way through, pulling back the shower curtain and turning the knob. The room filled with the hiss of water and arguing.
“I’ve got to take a shower.”
“Well so do I?”
“Does it look like I give a fuck?”
It was a race to get naked, to find yourself under the spray before the water could turn cold. You stepped into the tub, Bucky following suit. He closed the curtain, mouth still set in a hard frown.
“This is your fault.”
You laughed, leaning your head back to wet your hair.
“Oh, is it? Maybe if I wasn’t up half the night because of your snoring I wouldn’t have missed my alarm!”
You switched places with Bucky once you were doused, letting him under the spray. He grabbed his 3-n-1 shampoo bottle and squeezed too much into his hand.
“I only snore because you insisted on taking your mattress.”
“My mattress is the most expensive thing in this apartment.”
“So you’re just bad at spending money then?”
You glared at each other, silent as your fingers worked to clean your hair. Bucky did the same. The staring match raged on for a few breathless moments, until for the first time all morning Bucky’s gaze drifted away from your face and down your naked body.
“Pervert!”
-
“I don’t know why you’re worrying.” Steve said, watching his best friend flitter around the kitchen.
“I just want to know how they’re doing.” He explained, pulling the chicken from the oven.
“You know, Nat’s right. This is crazy. Why am I supporting this?”
Sam had to agree. He felt crazy thinking about his old roommates so much. It’s been six months. If one of them had killed the other he needed to know.
“I’m just checking in on my friends, Steve.”
-
Bucky opened the door to Sam’s place like he still lived there. You pulled on your joined hands, yanking him back a step to chide him.
“We’re guests stupid. Knock.”
“Knock, knock.” Bucky called sarcastically, shooting you a smug look when Sam shouted “Come in!”.
“You’re rude.” You grumbled.
“And you’re a know-it-all.” Bucky shot back without looking at you.
“I’m not-”
“Hey!” Sam greeted, voice a bit too loud, smile a bit too wide. His arms were open as if he was going to go for a hug but they hung suspended as his eyes found your joined hands.
“What’s uhhhh, what’s this?”
You and Bucky looked down at your interlaced fingers, then at each other, then back to Sam.
“We’re together.”
Sam’s arms fall heavily to his sides, then up to run over his head as his chest swells.
“WHAT? How? What?!”
-
You and Bucky had made your way home to your one bedroom apartment, changing into your pajamas and you continued your squabble from the walk home.
“They poop in a box. It’s disgusting!”
Bucky scoffed, leaving the room briefly and coming back with a glass of water that he sat down on your bedside table.
“We shit in a box too if you think about it. Just admit you aren’t a cat person so we can break up and I can take the cat.”
He crawled into bed, lifting up the blanket so you could join him. You stood there for a moment before relenting and crawling in next to him, tucking your head under his chin and throwing your leg over his hips.
“Whatever, I’m tired. We’ll continue this in the shower tomorrow.”
“This isn’t over.” Bucky warned before planting a kiss to your forehead. “Love you.”
“Love you too, but we’re not taking Steve’s cat.”
Bucky groaned, rolling on top of you.
“Cats are awesome, if you got your head out of your ass-”
“If you thought for more than two seconds about the responsibility-”
The bickering continued as you shed each other’s clothes, putting a pause on fighting in favor of moving together. It’s how most of your arguments ended and while most people, especially Sam, couldn’t wrap their heads around that it was what worked for you and Bucky. So did the one bedroom apartment, the shower that ran out of hot water too fast, and the cat Bucky was going to sneak in before spring semester. It all somehow made sense.
Except the fucking cat, come on Bucky!
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zftw:
we need to talk about that house loan
It’s gonna cost you a leg. Specifically, that guy’s prosthetic leg.
I need it.
(via laughcentre)
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