"The Incident"

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It had been two months since you confessed your feelings to your best friend and that moment still haunts you to this day. You now refer to it as "The Incident" in your head and can't stop thinking about it, obsessing over it. It was after a party, you and Bucky were hanging out on one of the couches in the lounge, finishing your last drinks before heading to bed. You weren't drunk by any means since the following day, you were headed out on a solo surveillance mission on your own.

Since Bucky arrived at the compound, you and he became fast friends. You were always a little shy around everyone else and he helped you come out of your shell. He would always sit next to you at meals, help you train by giving you tips and pointers, and he would hang out with you on your days off. You watched TV and movies together, and when Tony threw any of his famous parties, you two hung out at the back of the room and silently judged the guests causing the two of you to giggle and smirk with one another.

You quickly developed a crush on the super soldier but always tried to hide it. He would flirt with you constantly, even cuddling you close to him on movie nights and stealing quick pecks on your cheek and forehead. Your crush eventually deepened to another level, but you were terrified of telling him or anyone else for that matter since you feared you would lose your friendship.

Bucky had his arm lazily draped over your shoulders as you were chatting about the party when you decided to shoot your shot and tell your best friend you had feelings for them. Once you confessed your feelings to Bucky, he just sat there and stared at you, unable to speak. You gave him a few minutes to collect himself, but he still sat there with a blank expression on his face. When he finally looked at you, he thought you were joking and nudged your shoulder and laughed it off. You were mortified. He thought you were joking with him. He got up from the couch and walked you back to your room not even phased by your confession.

After your confession, things with Bucky remained the same. He still hung out with you like it never happened. He even started playing pranks on you making you more frustrated and hurt. He changed your shampoo to body lotion, he put a red sock in the washing machine with your whites causing your load to turn pink, a colour which you hated, and even put a rubber snake in your bed to scare you, which worked. You were terrified of snakes and are pretty sure the entire compound heard your scream from discovering it.

You were beyond frustrated with the man, so you decided to keep away from him as much as possible. No more movie nights or snuggling together, you used FRIDAY any chance you got to tell you his location, so you could avoid him. It hurt a lot, but you knew you had to do it because being around him made you feel awkward and sad, and in all honesty, silly.

There was another party Tony was throwing you were obligated to go to. You were dreading going to it since all the other parties you have attended, you always had Bucky at your side but this one would be different. He wouldn't be at your side.

You slipped on a plain black dress, black heels, and Nat did your hair in a simple low bun. You didn't want to draw any attention to you and this look was basic and straightforward. When you arrived at the party, you found Nat standing in the corner, observing the crowd. 

"Hey Nat" you said walking over to her. "Hi Y/N, you look great" as Nat handed you a glass of champagne. "Ugh, I want to leave already" you said looking around at the guests. You spotted Bucky talking to Steve. They were standing over by one of the bars. Thankfully he had his back to you, so he didn't see you.

You made your way throughout the room with Nat by your side. You met with the guests and were having a good time which surprised you. Nat went to the bar to get herself another drink, leaving you alone by the dance floor. Just then, a finger tapped you on your shoulder and you turned to see who it was. When you turned around, you were surprised. 

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