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Bucky's Parrot Has A Crush

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It was not a crush. And he was not pining. Shut up, Natasha.

Bucky Barnes may have had a slight interest in the little blonde guy next door but how could anyone not?! He's gorgeous, basically adorable, and Bucky really wouldn't have minded pushing him up against the wall and having his way with the guy.

But life's cruel and in reality he had only spoken to the disgustingly attractive boy twice since he moved into Bucky's building and they were both "hello"s that were murmured in passing (((because Bucky's an awkward schoolgirl around him.)))

This is why, at 4am on a Saturday night, Bucky was trying to teach his parrot, попка, to tell Steve how beautiful he was.

"Ты такая красивая!" Bucky groaned when the parrot continued to squawk in his face, even after repeating himself multiple times.

Bucky knew that Steve was all-American so teaching the parrot in Russian would prevent any self-crippling embarrassment and regret in the near-future.

"Стив, вы великолепны, и я думаю, что я немного влюблен в тебя"

Bucky laughed as the parrot repeated what he said, "Of course you got that one."

Rolling his eyes, Bucky put the parrot (who was chatting away about how gorgeous Steve was) in the cage before finally falling asleep.

When Bucky woke up the next morning, попка was no where to be seen which wasn't exactly surprising. He got out of bed and threw on some sweatpants, glancing at his arm in the mirror. Grimacing at the maze of scar tissue, he pulled on a t-shirt that covered the worse parts before making himself some extremely-strong coffee.

Sundays were usually spent with Natasha but she had a super duper secret SHIELD mission so Bucky was alone with his thoughts. And that was never good for anyone.

Bucky missed SHIELD, he missed being an agent, he missed working with Natasha and Clint, he missed the adrenaline and danger, but mostly he missed his arm.

Okay maybe he still had two arms but he wouldn't ever class his left one as a part of him anymore. It was ugly and messy, and the only sensation he got in it was the dull ache every single morning.

People would say "at least you've still got your arm" when they saw his scars and Bucky would laugh because they don't understand.

They couldn't understand.

He wished he only had one arm.

A knock on the door dragged Bucky out of his mind.

"Coming!" Bucky called before frantically searching for his jacket or sweater or hoody or something that could cover his arm. He knew it was ridiculous but he didn't particularly want to scare the shit out of the postman.

Groaning, he grabbed the blanket off his couch and wrapped it around his shoulders before flinging the door open.

"Hey..?" Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

Holy fucking shitty bollocks.

Bucky wanted to die.

Holding the blanket tightly, he cleared his throat. "Hi, Steve."

The little blonde's face significantly brightened at that. "Your parrot," Steve laughed, "She's been following me since 7 this morning, I mean she waited outside the grocery store for half an hour while I went in, and I just wanted to return her. I would have had a conversation with her so she didn't think I was awful company but she was very insistently squawking at me."

Bucky couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry because this was the longest conversation he'd ever had with this guy and it was about his parrot.

"попка?" Bucky called, laughing as the bird appeared from behind Steve. "I'm sorry, Stevie." He chuckled as the bird flew back into his apartment, repeating "Стив, вы великолепны, и я думаю, что я немного влюблен в тебя" to herself.

Bucky looked back at Steve who's blush was very apparent. "Sorry about my bird. She clearly likes you. Maybe a bit too much, eh попка?" Bucky laughed as the parrot squawked at him.

Steve smiled, shaking his head, "No, it's fine, I honestly enjoyed the company. Thanks, Buck."

As Steve walked away, Bucky nodded to himself before closing the door.

"попка I told you to compliment him not stalk him, Jesus."


"Скажите Стива он может раскачивать дедушка взгляд, попка, и он сексуально, как ад. Да скажите ему об этом." Bucky slurred, dropping himself into bed on Friday night. Natasha had taken him to their favourite bar which basically involved them drinking Clint under the table in a matter of minutes before hours of "Who's the most Russian".

Natasha. Natasha was the most Russian. Natasha was always the most Russian.


Throughout the next few weeks, every time Bucky saw Steve, Bucky'd smile and wave, rather than overheat and turn the other way like he used to.

Steve would always blush and wave back as a smile as bright as the sun itself spread across his face.

Bucky's parrot continued her tasks of complementing (and now clearly stalking) Steve which was always fun.


Bucky woke to a door being slammed next door, followed by some very angry shouting. Was it..? Yes, the shouting was definitely Steve and he was clearly very unhappy.

Following Steve's side of the conversation, Bucky listened intently to his neighbour's angry shouting. It took Bucky around ten minutes of listening before something clicked in his mind.


Steve was shouting.

In Russian.

Steve spoke Russian.

Oh fucking hell.


After a lot of stressing and a Skype call with Natasha (who was more of a hindrance than anything because Natasha was a heartless bitch), Bucky decided that he would hide in his apartment until he found a new one because avoiding this situation was the only way out of it.

He kept попка indoors at all times and entertained himself with reruns of shitty television shows whilst tidying up which he'd been putting off for a very long time.

It took Bucky a fortnight to run out of food which meant he had no choice but to leave his apartment. The problem with that, however, was that Steve and Bucky both regularly shopped in the same grocery store so the chance of running into him was pretty high.

Bucky's stomach rumbled and he sighed deeply, picking up his keys and wallet before throwing on his leather jacket.

Opening and closing his door almost silently, he slipped out of his apartment and dashed to the stairwell, practically hurling himself down the flights of steps.

He flat-out sprinted to the store which involved avoiding speeding cars and angry people (not that he would have minded if he was ran over right now). The store was reasonably quiet and Bucky wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing but it did allow him to reach the aisles he needed in record time so he wasn't bothered.

After gathering the essentials (chocolate bars, fizzy drinks, Doritos) and some real food that required cooking, Bucky went to the checkout before grabbing his bags and getting the fuck out of there.

It was only a short walk back to his block and then he just had to get inside his apartment without bumping into Ste-

Bucky stumbled as the contents of one of the grocery bags he was carrying spilled onto the sidewalk.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled to himself, gathering the contents and putting them into the other bags. He really didn't need this right now.

Another pair of hands grabbed the groceries that had rolled too far away to reach and Bucky was completely grateful because his left arm really wasn't cooperating.

"Thank you so much, I don't even know what happene-," Bucky looks up and he is still sure, to this day, that his heart stopped beating.

"Any time, Buck." Steve smiled, handing the stunned man his groceries. "I haven't seen you around lately. And your parrot has clearly fallen out of love with me."

The playful smile on Steve's face made Bucky want to die and laugh at the same time. "You speak Russian," Bucky stated, laughing at himself.

"I speak quite a few languages and yes, Russian is one of them. How did you figure it out?"

Steve's smile was really starting to offend Bucky on personal levels. "I heard you on the phone."

"And you haven't left our apartment since?" Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You could have talked to me, you know."

"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?" Bucky finally looked up from his groceries to look Steve in the eyes.

"Yeah," Steve's smile brightened further as their eyes met.

"Is there any way you'd believe me if I told you that my parrot has a tiny little crush on you?"

"I don't think it's tiny or little, to be honest."

"Shut up," Bucky groaned, "I'm sorry."

Steve raised his eyebrow, "Why are you sorry? I mean it was pretty strange being stalked by a Russian parrot that was determined to make me blush constantly but if I'm being honest, I've kinda missed her these days."

Bucky wanted to facepalm. That's how bad this was. "Y-you could come see her? Tonight? I could make dinner. I mean if you want? I totally get if you don't, I just thought-"

"Buck!" Steve laughed, leaning up to kiss Bucky's cheek, "I'll see you at 8."

It was Bucky's turn to blush as Steve turned around and walked away. "Y-yeah," Bucky mumbled, mainly to himself, before walking home in a complete daze.