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sjsmith56 · 9 months

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It Takes Two

Summary: Recently divorced Jillian meets up with friends at a bar then changes her mind. Bumping into a handsome man he convinces her to go inside. They dance then he brings her a drink and learn they have a surprising connection.

Length: 2.35K

Characters: Jillian, her friend Marla, Bucky Barnes, his friend Steve

Warnings: self-doubt, worry about weight, still hurting from divorce, talk of suicide, hint of alcohol abuse.

Author notes: Set in AU, told in third person. Main female character is named and described (sorry, I’ve tried but I just can’t write worth shit in x reader format). Except for Bucky’s admission of contemplating suicide and the pain both characters still feel about their divorces the mood is pretty fluffy by the end.

🩵

Ever since Jillian’s ex, Brent, had announced he was leaving her for her personal trainer she had tried her best to move on. It hadn’t been easy as Karin was everything Jillian wasn’t. Tall, blonde, fit and tanned versus short, brown haired, a little plump and likely to burn if she was out in the sun for longer than 15 minutes. Already plagued with self-doubt after gaining weight in the first two years of their marriage, Jillian’s self-esteem took a hit when Karin, the woman who said she would do all she could to help her get fit, betrayed her instead.

Standing in front of the door to the bar where she agreed to meet her other friends, Jillian decided she wasn’t ready and turned around to leave, only to walk into the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Whoa, darling,” he grinned, gently grasping her arms as she shrieked from the impact. “You’re not going in?”

“No,” she blushed. “I changed my mind. I can’t….”

“Well, that’s a shame,” said the man, his blue eyes flickering to her lips. “A pretty lady like you makes this place better. You’re not standing a guy up, are you?”

“No, I’m just not ready to put myself out there yet.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to make a clean getaway,” he noted, pointing to her friends who were at the window screaming at her with excitement. “Friends of yours?”

Jillian rolled her eyes, “Never saw them before.”

He chuckled then opened the door for her, waiting for her to enter before him. With a sigh, she entered and went towards her friends as he waved to some people at the back.

Her friend Marla pulled her into the booth. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jillian. “I literally walked into him when I changed my mind about coming in here.”

“That is one gorgeous man,” gushed Marla, to the consensus of the others. “He was checking you out. He still is.”

It was true. He was sitting in the booth at the back with a full view of Jillian and her friends. Whoever was talking to him seemed to be asking him questions, but he kept looking over to Jillian repeatedly. When the band started playing and couples began drifting onto the dance floor Jillian smiled as her friends were asked to dance until she was left alone at the booth. Taking a sip of her beer she looked out the window, feeling the hurt of being ignored.

“May I have this dance,” said a familiar voice and she turned her head back, seeing those blue eyes gazing at her. She said nothing at first and the man offered her his hand. “If you take my hand, I’ll lead you to the dance floor and we’ll kind of sway back and forth. That’s usually how this works.”

Blushing, she took his right hand, feeling the calluses on his fingertips. When he offered his left hand for her to take, she noticed he wore a leather glove. Before she could say anything, he began to move but he didn’t sway. Instead, he guided her around the dance floor, his hands gently pressing and pulling her in the direction he wanted to go. At first, she didn’t know quite what to do and her natural instinct was to try and anticipate which way he was going. Several times she bumped into him, until he grinned and lowered his face close to her ear.

“Sweetheart, you have to let me lead you,” he said, loud enough for her to hear over the band. “I won’t steer you wrong. Honest.”

He smiled then and Jillian thought she had died and gone to heaven as he was so damned handsome. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not much of a dancer. My ex-husband didn’t like close dancing.”

“That’s terrible,” said the man. “It’s the best way to get to know someone.”

As if to prove his point he brought her closer to him when the band shifted the tempo of the song to something slower and more romantic. At that point she became aware of his aftershave which smelled of sandalwood, cedar and citrus. He lowered his face close to her ear once again.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked. “My name’s Bucky.”

“Jillian,” she answered. “Do you come here often?”

“Once or twice in the past couple of months with my friends,” he replied. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time. My friends said I have to get back out there.”

“How long has your ex-husband been your ex-husband?” His lips were close enough to her ear that she could feel his breath on her neck, making goosebumps run up her legs and thighs.

“Eight months since the divorce,” she answered.

She sniffed and was surprised to feel a tear fall down her cheek. Pulling her hand out of his she wiped it off, trying to stop the others from falling. Bucky stopped dancing and gently guided her off the dance floor then outside to the cooler air. As she looked apologetically at him, he pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket, offering it to her.

“Sorry, it just still hurts,” she sniffed, taking the handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes with it. “He had a yearlong affair with someone I thought was my friend, and I’m still dealing with the betrayal.”

“It does hurt,” he agreed. “Went through my own divorce two and a half years ago. Except it was my wife who cheated on me. We were living in the next town over when it happened. I didn’t handle it very well, kind of dropped off the radar for a while then my friend Steve opened a custom cabinet maker’s business here and invited me to partner up with him.”

“How long did it take before it stopped hurting?” asked Jillian.

He smiled sadly. “I’m still working on it but tonight I feel better.” He leaned close. “I met a very pretty lady.”

Jillian could feel her cheeks get warm and smiled shyly. She offered Bucky his handkerchief back and was pleased to see him open the door for her again. The band was playing a fast song that neither of them felt like dancing to, so he dropped her off at the table, then walked back to where his friends were sitting. She watched him walk away, liking how he filled out his dark wash Levi’s. When he turned around to look back at her he grinned at catching her watching him and waved so she waved back. Marla was the first to come back to the table and grasped her hand.

“So?”

“His name is Bucky, he’s divorced, and he’s a cabinetmaker,” said Jillian. “I got upset and started to cry so he took me outside, gave me a clean handkerchief and he smells wonderful.”

“He’s one fine looking man,” replied Marla. “And he’s coming back with two beers. I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

“No, Marla, don’t leave me,” pleaded Jillian but her friend was already gone, and Bucky sat down across from her, placing a beer in front of her space.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “The server told me what you were drinking.”

He held his bottle towards her and looked at her expectantly. Marla took her bottle and tipped it towards him before sipping from it. His eyes focused on her as he drank from his beer then he put the bottle down and leaned forward.

“May I ask you something personal?”

“Okay,” nodded Jillian. “As long as I can ask you something in return.”

“Goes without saying. May I ask the name of your friend who hurt you?”

“Karin Barnes,” she replied. “Why? And that’s not my question.”

He breathed out heavily. “My other friend Sam saw you on the dance floor with me and said my ex-wife broke up your marriage. She must have moved on from the guy she cheated on me with. I’m so sorry about her.”

Jillian didn’t say anything for some time, wondering what the chances of this gorgeous man were being connected to her worst nightmare. She took another drink of her beer, a longer one this time before speaking.

“She was my personal trainer. I gained weight after I got married and my ex said I should work out. She would show up at 6 am and we’d run for an hour then go to the gym and work out for another hour. Then I’d run home, shower, eat breakfast and be at work for 9. I forgot my work keys once and came home to her in bed with my husband.”

Bucky drank from his beer, his eyes never leaving Jillian’s, shaking his head with empathy as she talked, then he put his hand on hers.

“She said I was changed after my accident.” He gestured to his left arm. “I lost my arm in a construction accident then got into a clinical trial for a new type of prosthetic. I have almost full sensation with it, and it allowed me to continue doing fine carpentry work. But she didn’t like it, said it was too artificial looking. She was working as a personal trainer then, as well, and she started an affair with one of her clients. What a toxic person she turned out to be. How your husband could cheat on a beautiful woman like you is beyond me.”

Jillian smiled and squeezed his hand. “You’re very handsome and there is no way Brent is better looking than you. You said before that you fell off the radar. What did you mean?”

“I got on my motorcycle and rode across the country, working odd jobs, living in dive motels, drinking too much.” He smiled grimly. “It wasn’t a healthy way to deal with the betrayal and I hit rock bottom when I thought of ending it.”

“What happened?” asked Jillian.

“I bought a bottle of sleeping pills and a big bottle of scotch then sat in a cheap motel for an hour looking at them, trying to get the courage to begin taking them.” He took another drink of his beer. “This is all that I drink now. Two and I’m done. Just so you know. I opened the bottle and poured a dozen pills out into my hand and my phone literally rang at that moment. It was my friend, Steve. That’s him over there, the big blond guy and he’s dancing with your friend.”

They both looked, noticing her friend Marla and his friend Steve on the dance floor, watching them then ducking behind another couple. Both Bucky and Jillian put their hands on their mouths as they suppressed laughter.

“I think we were set up,” said Jillian.

“I think you’re right,” he replied, grinning. Then he got serious again as he finished his story. “I was that close to throwing everything away. Steve told me he was starting up his dream business and he wanted me to be in on the ground floor as his partner. I was falling apart, and he was giving me a second take at life. For another hour I looked at the pills then I flushed them down the toilet and the next morning was on my way here.” He took another drink of his beer. “It was important to me that you knew that before I asked you out.”

“You’re asking me out?”

“Well, yeah,” he smiled, and Jillian felt warm inside. “I mean look at you. You’re gorgeous. Maybe we’re supposed to go out if our friends who are still trying to watch us have anything to do with it. It takes two, Jillian. I’m willing to give us a try if you are.”

This incredibly handsome man sat across from her, his dark hair just a little on the long side, his eyes meeting hers in a level but soft gaze. His broad shoulders were impressive and she already knew how wonderful he smelled, and how good he looked in his dark wash jeans. She gave out a big sigh then looked at his gloved hand before looking him in the eye.

“May I see your hand?”

For a moment Jillian wondered if she had offended Bucky as his gaze flickered to the black leather glove. Then he smiled lightly and pulled it off, revealing a metallic hand, mostly black in colour but with lines of gold between the different plates and pieces that formed the hand and fingers. Despite herself she touched it then looked up at him for permission. Bucky nodded and she took it in both of her hands, running her fingers over the smooth surface, while tracing the sections. It’s coolness surprised her but the longer she held it the warmer it seemed to get.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “Such workmanship and precision went into this, and you can feel my touch?” He smiled and nodded. “This is a work of art and you are the canvas. If Karin used this as an excuse to hurt you then she was a horrible person.”

“So, you’ll go out with me?” asked Bucky, leaving his hand in hers.

“Yes.” She leaned forward over the table so that his face was just inches from hers. “I’d go home with you right now, if you asked, and I’ve never ever done that before.”

His soft smile became broader as he slid his right hand around her neck, pulling them closer together. As their lips met and their first taste of each other was felt, the kiss deepened into something they both knew was just the beginning.

Steve and Marla watched from the dance floor as Bucky switched to sit next to Jillian, his arm around her shoulders. It was obvious the new couple’s attention was only on each other, with their heads close together, already giving off the aura of an intense attraction. A huge sigh escaped Steve’s lips as he looked at his girlfriend of a few weeks.

“You were right, they’re perfect for each other,” he said. “Now, what about Sam?”

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#bucky barnes #buckybarnes original female character #steve rogers #divorced #still hurting #atthebarwithfriends #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes au

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andthebeanstalk · 11 months

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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

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