kriszeth

Bucky has a system.

Choose them, chase them, fuck them, toss them.

So far, it's been foolproof and satisfying, no complications, no awkwardness the morning after. But damn if that cute freshman doesn't make butterflies dance in his stomach instead of the usual twitch in his crotch—that usually ends in adding another name to his conquest list.

He blames the adorable cuteness of those pouty lips, and the cute perky butt in those tight, tight jeans, and the natural cadence of those hips as the boy walks leisurely through the campus with a knowing smile... that is directed at Bucky! Oh, God, did The Boy just wink at him?

Bucky gulps and then swallows dryly as he wets his lips, but his focus is ruined when he feels the unmistakable pain of something hard connecting with the back of his head.

"God, you're so pathetic," Tony drawls with a smirk as he shoulders his bag again.

Bucky notices he's the only one with his things still cluttering the table. Bucky opens his mouth with the intention to whine, but Natasha beats him.

"His name is Steven Grant Rogers," she says with a wriggle of her eyebrows.




Steven Gran Rogers—Stevie for his friends, and Bucky counted himself one. If you warped the sense of friend a little to, you know,—stalker—someone that follows you around to learn everything about you make sure no—one comes near you with ill intentions. Like flirting—thing bad happens to you.

(It's a big campus and dangerous things are known to happen to defenseless pretty creatures with perk butts, Bucky explained to an unimpressed Natasha.)

—is a freshman majoring in Arts, taking a special project about Japanese History, whom Bucky has been bewitched by since the beginning of the year.




Bucky pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose." Natasha says, amused and bemused, as Tony takes a better hold of Bucky's ankles. Natasha grunts with the effort of carrying Bucky by the armpits, who is being dragged, literally, to a party.

"But Naaaaat!" Bucky does his best to drawl out his words on that whinny voice of his that he knows Natasha hates, if the low answering growl she huffs is any indication. Bucky tries to crane his neck to look up to an upside-down version of his shorter friend. "Do I really, really, really have to go?" he asks pitifully.

"YES!" His friends reply.

"Fuck, you're heavy!" wheezes Tony. "Also, if I have to answer once more to all your whores about your whereabouts, I'm going to fucking kill her. Him. Them. Whoever asks next!"

"Really Bucky, you just up and left the parties in favor of lurking behind bookshelves at the library. Everyone thinks you're dying or something." Clint explains, leisurely walking besides his girlfriend, hands inside his pockets.

"But Cliiiiiiint!!!" Bucky maximizes on his pouting, so you can hear every exclamation point. "Stevie has an essay about WWII for tomorrow and he was planning to stay late at the library tonight!"

"Really, how do you find all that out?" Tony asks bewildered, his eyes round with a mix of incredulity and disgust.

"Were you standing outside the Japanese History hall spying again?" Natasha frowns down at Bucky.

"N-No!" He sputters hurriedly. Clint, Tony and Natasha stare down pointedly at him. "Kinda. Maybe? I was just gonna ask Professor Philips for help in a project!"

Bucky looks smugly at them, proud of his fast thinking. There's a long moment of silence, punctuated by everyone stopping walking, to make their staring down at him even more pointed.

"Bucky, you don't even take that class." Natasha shakes her head, partially annoyed, long time suffering, in the tone of voice she tends to use when being patient or patronizing and, more often than not, when treating with Bucky. "You are majoring in Engineering."

"So what? I need extra credits."

"And Phillips hates your guts." Tony points out.

"... Shut up!"