Character x Reader oneshots

You were glad now that you were at the bar that you'd agreed to come out with your friends. It was Valentines, and you hadn't really wanted to do anything except curl up and read Bucky's latest letter to you. He'd been at war for almost six months now, and every day without him was just a little bit more painful than the last. But all of your friends had grouped together and convinced you to come out with them. Now that you were all sat at a booth in the back, and the jazz music was washing over you, you were glad you'd agreed to come. Besides, Bucky wouldn't have wanted to you to sit at home and mope without him.
You had, however, agreed to stay sober to keep your friends in check, so you simply ordered a Shirley Temple while your friends ordered Martinis and Manhattans, and sat back to wait for your order.
"I think that guy at the bar is looking at you." One of your friends leaned in close and whispered, jut above the sound of the music. You glanced over to the bar. There were two couples who were sat drinking and laughing together, one lone woman who was stirring her Martini and trying to get the attention of the man beside her, and large blond man sat on his own drinking, occasionally looking at the "Sporting Girl", who clearly wasn't interested in him.
"Which one?" You asked glumly. "The one who struck out with a prostitute?"
She giggled. "No, the other one."
You shrugged, uninterested, watching out of the corner of your eye as the man brushed the "Sporting Girl" (as you'd heard they liked to be called) away from him. She stood up, her rejection obviously not affecting the confident sway of her hips as she moved over to the large blond man, who looked up excitedly at her presence.
The darker haired man she'd been talking to before gave a long stretch, and leaned over the bar to talk to the bartender, who glanced over to our table quickly before nodding. You raised an eyebrow, but returned to the conversation your friends were having.
"Did you hear Jillian is marrying Martin Hawkes next week?" One of your friends whispered excitedly, drumming her perfectly manicured dark red fingernails against the table. "I heard she got in trouble and he's marrying her because his parents made him."
There was a chorus of tuts and unappreciative murmurs around the table. It was a well known fact that if you wanted to go the whole way with a man, it was perfectly fine, but if you got pregnant, you'd be lucky to ever be invited to another party in your lifetime. A couple of your friends had broken out of your social group for similar reasons, and still weren't on particularly good terms with most of you. All of your friends believed that a girl should have enough sense not to get herself pregnant.
The waiter came over with your drinks, handing out the Manhattans and Martinis across the table. You couldn't see your Shirley Temple, but instead, he handed you a Sidecar. "And a Sidecar for you."
"I didn't order this." You said with an apologetic smile. The waiter nodded and jerked his thumb over to the bar as he left.
"Guy at the bar ordered it for you, sweetheart."
You raised an eyebrow and glanced at your friends, who all exchanged grins.
"He must like you, mustn't he?" One of them giggled.
With a sigh, you stood up with the drink and walked over to the bar. "Excuse me, sir? I can't drink this."
"Why not?" He grunted, without turning around.
You looked down at the drink regretfully. In truth, the Sidecar was your favourite drink. But how could this guy know? "I'm the sober one for tonight. And besides, it would give you the wrong idea."
You heard a low chuckle. "Wrong idea?"
"Yes."
"You got a boyfriend already then?"
You examined his back, frowning. "Yes. He's fighting in France."
"Brave guy."
"Very. Listen, I can't -"
"Oh come on baby," the guy swung round on his chair, grinning. "You love Sidecars. Have one on me."
"Bucky?" You shrieked, almost dropping the drink in shock. He laughed and prised it out of you grip before you launched yourself on him, throwing your arms around his neck to hug him. His arms went around your back to pull you in tighter, and he buried his face into your hair with a chuckle.
"You miss me, doll?"
You nodded, gripping onto him tighter. "How'd you get the leave anyway?"
"Called in a couple of favours from some friends. You get me for the long weekend." You pulled back to examine him. His hair was a little longer at the front, and their was scruff on his face, and underneath his coat you could see his military uniform, but other than that, he looked like the same Bucky who'd left for war all those months ago. He grinned again and lowered one hand to rest on your ass. "Why don't we get out of here, so you can get me out of my uniform?"
You gave him a mini salute. "Whatever you say, Sargent."
He chuckled and dropped an all too short kiss on your lips, his left arm winding tightly around your waist. "Come on."
As you left, he waved goodbye to your friends, all of whom had proud, smug smiles on their faces. You didn't care. You had Bucky back for the long weekend, and there were oh so many things you wanted to do with him.

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