semi_stable | for sylvie

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sylvie

for sylvie

Nothing about Bucky's relationship with Sylvie could be called conventional. They not only did everything kind of out of order; they threw the rule book out entirely. Bucky's own playbook has needed a lot of updating since the last time he was going steady with someone. So much of it has gone out of style by now, including the phrase 'going steady'.

Still, Sylvie is a fantastic woman and she deserves to be wooed, so Bucky calls her up asks her to go to dinner with him one Friday night. She agrees easily and Bucky feels relieved and excited, even though he didn't expect her to say no. He tells her that he'll pick her up at seven, and then makes a reservation at a wine bar that does tapas and small plates. Bucky has only ever gotten take out, but it seems nice but relaxed, which he figures Sylvie would enjoy more than somewhere too fancy.

He takes Bopp on a long walk through the park since he'll be gone for a few hours, then showers and tidies up his beard, dressing in black slacks and a slate gray short sleeved button down. He runs some wax through his hair like the barber showed him and then makes the bed and tidies up a bit, just in case they end up back here after dinner, and then takes a cab over to Loki and Sylvie's place to pick her up, asking the driver to wait while he goes up to the door.

He isn't sure if Loki is home or not, or if it will be awkward if he's there for just Sylvie. It's not as if he'd mind Loki coming with them, but he'd imagined it being just the two of them. As he rings the doorbell, he decides that he'll just roll with whatever happens, because that's gotten him this far with the two of them.

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"I was going to say, I wouldn't think you'd wait for that," he admits with a fond laugh, kissing her hand again. "But I would have charmed the pants off of him. Really let him think we was the one in charge."

He smiles again and leans in to give her a brief kiss on the mouth, then another on her cheek. When the car pulls in front of the restaurant, Bucky chuckles and gives her a pleading look. "Indulge me."

Bucky gets out of the car and jogs around to open Sylvie's door for her, making a show of bowing and offering her his arm, all with a little smirk on his face.

"Jesus," she says, but she steps out of the car and takes Bucky's arm, rolling her eyes at him. There's an undeniable fondness in her expression, however, something she makes no effort to hide. Even if she did, he'd likely see it. Bucky is good at reading people and he knows her well by now, better than most.

"I will indulge you insofar as my pride allows," she answers, a smile curving her lips that's at complete odds with her words. Sometimes she thinks Bucky must really be a masochist, putting up with both her and Loki when he's so charming, so good. He could have anyone, she believes, and he chooses them.

"That's all that I ask," he drawls out, patting Sylvie's hand on his arm as he leans over to thank the driver. After shutting the door, he turns away and leads Sylvie up to the restaurant, opening the door for her and following her inside to approach the hostess. "Hi, I have a reservation under Barnes?"

"Right this way," the hostess says, leading them to a table in a quieter corner by the windows, just as Bucky requested. She sets down leather bound menus and Bucky thanks her, stopping short of helping Sylvie with her chair. That's a little too antiquated, even for him. "This place does tapas, small plates. I thought we could get a bunch of things to share, see what we like."

Sylvie, like Bucky, doesn't seem to be the pickiest eater. Probably hard to be in an apocalypse, or when you're a soldier (or a prisoner). He'll eat most things, so he's sure they'll find a nice assortment here.

She can tell that for a moment he'd considered pulling her chair out for her. Ultimately, Sylvie doesn't think she would have minded overly much, because by now she knows Bucky, she knows his tendencies, the fact that being a gentleman has been part of him, part of his upbringing.

It isn't something she would allow from many people, but from Bucky, she would.

"Hm, sharing food is quite generous for a soldier and someone who lived in an apocalypse," she says, smirking at him. "That's taking our relationship to the next step."

"Well, we'll order a lot and if it comes to blows, we'll try not to leave any casualties," Bucky replies dryly, lifting his gaze from the menu to return her smirk. "Do you want to split a bottle of wine? You can pick. I have no idea what any of this means."

He hands her the wine list because once it's broken down beyond red, white, or bubbly, Bucky has very little idea how to interpret any of it. Sylvie could very well be in the same boat, but she was born in a palace. Perhaps she'll have a better idea. "I'm good with anything."

His attention turns back to the food menu and he lets out a low whistle, brows climbing as he turns it over to look at the other side. "This all looks good. I'm too hungry to try and narrow it down."

Unless it's Asgardian, Sylvie doesn't know either, but she picks a wine anyway, mostly at random. The waiter can tell them if it's any good or if she's picked something awful, but then, of course, she'll just be annoyed with the waiter.

"Then don't," she answers, looking up at Bucky again, her eyes lit up. "We don't have to choose."

That's the point of a place like this, as far as she understands. They can have whatever they like and then some.

"That's true," Bucky muses as he looks over the menu. He'd planned on paying because he asked her on a date, but she's the one with the magic credit card. It'd probably be more practical to split it. Sylvie's not the type to get offended if her meal isn't paid for, and that's kind of a relief. Bucky was raised to be a gentleman, and it comes naturally to him, but it was part of the reason that modern dating had been so baffling to him on the few dates he'd gone on in New York. But now he's with Sylvie, who also has no idea what she's doing in this particular arena, so they can figure it out together.

When their server comes by, he waits for Sylvie to order the wine and then Bucky looks up at him with an almost wolfish grin. "We're going to start with the large appetizer sampler for now."

"That's usually ordered by our larger groups," the server says, his tone more friendly and informative than judgmental. "It feeds four to six people."

"We're aware," Bucky says plainly, shooting an amused glance at Sylvie. "We can handle it."

"I'm a big eater," Sylvie informs the waiter with a smile that might be considered pleasant by most people, so long as they don't look at her eyes. She isn't trying to be rude, she simply doesn't like being questioned, she never has, and that's a trait that has existed long before the TVA came for her.

"Alright then," their server answers with a small smile and a nod. "That'll be right out and I'll be back in a moment with your wine."

He leaves the table and Sylvie leans toward Bucky a little. "He doesn't think we're capable," she says.

"I guess we'll just have to prove them wrong, won't we?" Bucky asks with a smirk, leaning in as well. Sylvie is a small woman with a waist that Bucky can almost fit his big hands all the way around, but she can put away almost as much food as Bucky can.

"We'll just have to work it off later," he adds with a flirty wink, shaking out his napkin and laying it on his lap. "But how, is the question. A brisk walk through the park, perhaps?"

He's still smiling at her when the server comes over with the wine, uncorking it and pouring a tiny bit into a glass before handing it to Sylvie for her to approve of, he supposes. Once she does, he pours two glasses and leaves the wine on the table before leaving. Bucky picks up one of the glasses and puts his nose near the opening, but it just smells like wine to him. "Up to snuff, then?"

"It's wine," she answers, looking faintly amused. It seems like Bucky feels the same about the wine as she does; it tastes like most other wines she's had in her life and she doesn't know if she would be able to tell the difference. Maybe if she had two glasses side by side she would, but that isn't the situation they're in now.

"Can you tell the difference between wines?" she asks. "Because I can't."

Sylvie almost never had alcohol before Darrow. Now and then, she might carry a drink to fit in wherever she was hiding at the time, but getting drunk, getting even a little bit tipsy would have been dangerous.

"Sure I can. Some is red, and some is white," Bucky replies with a smirk, taking a sip of the wine. It's smooth enough that he can tell that it's probably expensive, lacking the bitter burn of cheaper swill, but that's about as far as his knowledge on the topic goes.

"You look amazing, by the way," he tells her, mostly because he can't stop staring at her. If he were sitting closer, he'd reach out to touch her because he always wants to be touching her, if possible. For now, he settles on gazing at her adoringly. "I'm not sure that I told you that."

He chuckles a little and shakes his head as he sets down his glass. "I haven't been on a proper date with a beautiful woman for a long time. I tried back in New York, after everything, but it was pointless. I had nothing in common with anyone anymore."

"Of course I do, you made me change," she answers, even though he had done no such thing. She had changed of her own volition, wanting to make this evening what Bucky was looking for, even if she's not entirely sure how to be that sort of woman.

Someone who dates.

"But you have something in common with me?" she asks, interested in that. "Tell me more."

Bucky rolls his eyes fondly at the false accusation, sipping from his wine as he looks at Sylvie. If she had told him that she'd rather go to the hot dog cart, that's where they would have gone. It isn't the restaurant or their clothes or the overpriced wine that he's looking for. It's just time with her, just the two of them, enjoying something together.

"Are you going to try and say that I don't?" He asks with an amused laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners as his nose wrinkles in thought. They have a lot of things in common, some of them very obvious and some not, but Bucky decides to keep it light, and go with something completely superficial. "We both have good fashion sense."

"Is that it?" she asks, head still tilted. "Good fashion sense, hmm. I mean, I certainly don't disagree, but I don't know if that's enough to find room to actually date someone, is it? Enough common ground, I mean."

She wants to hear more from him. She wants to know what he sees in them both, the similarities they have. She wants him to tell her because, in some secret part of her, she thinks hearing it will feel good. The acknowledgment that they really are the same in many ways.

Bucky watches her with a small smile, sipping from his wine again as he considers his words. They're alike in a lot of ways, but the most obvious aren't exactly cheerful. But neither are their lives, and he doubles Sylvie would want to try and pretend otherwise.

"We were both made into fighters regardless of what we wanted," he begins quietly, reaching across the table to put his hand on top of hers. "We both know what it's like to be alone, regardless of what we wanted."

He smiles at her and squeezes her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. "We're both very stubborn, we both have blue eyes, the list goes on and on."

"Both very attractive and clever," Sylvie continues, still smirking a little, though she not only accepts the more serious aspects Bucky has said, she knows they're true. She wouldn't want to shy away from those parts of who they are.

Her experiences being in a proper relationship of any sort are extremely limited, but she's of the mind it can't be done without a realistic acceptance of who you are and who the other person is.

She slips her thumb on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze in return. A small gesture by most standards, but Bucky knows her.

"Well, that goes without saying," Bucky replies with a smirk of his own, though his expression softens when she squeezes his hand. He stares at her for a long moment, just enjoying the sight of her under romantic lighting, only looking away when their server returns with a large platter of food.

"You weren't kidding," he says to the guy, squeezing Sylvie's hand subtly before sitting up to let the server put the plate down between them. He points to each dish to name what it is, and though Bucky only recognizes about half of the items, it all looks delicious. He thanks the server, who gives them a skeptical look.

"Do you want to order anything else?" He asks, and Bucky gives Sylvie a thoughtful look. "Or should I come back later?"

"Mm, those croquettes looked pretty good," Bucky says to her, nose crinkling with amusement. "What do you think?"

Sylvie already has some food halfway to her mouth when Bucky asks her a question and so she says, "Uh-huh." Whatever he's said, she's pretty sure it's about the food and it isn't as if she's going to disagree with him on getting more of it.

Between the two of them, she isn't worried about not being able to finish.

"Sorry," she adds once she's taken a bite of food. "That was rude, wasn't it? I'm very hungry." Her parents would hate her manners, she thinks, and can't help but smile a little.

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