You, Steve, and Bucky had agreed to a shopping trip—mostly because you’d strong-armed them into it. Retail therapy, you’d called it. They’d mostly just sighed and followed along.
“How much longer?” Bucky grumbled, predictably. He was already proving to be worse than Tony when it came to patience.
“A number.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Does it look like I care?” you retorted, a smirk playing on your lips.
“Dear God, how can Stark deal with you?” Bucky muttered under his breath.
“I heard that. You can always walk back to the Tower, if you prefer.”
“No way am I walking thirty-five miles.”
“Then stop complaining. There’s only one store left on my list.”
“Which one?” Steve asked, ever the gentleman. He was already juggling a mountain of shopping bags, courtesy of your unlimited access to Tony’s accounts. Tony, bless his heart, never knew what to get for birthdays or holidays, so you’d taken over the gift-buying responsibilities.
“Victoria’s Secret.” You announced, and Steve’s face paled slightly.
“We can wait outside,” Steve offered quickly, his cheeks flushing crimson. “Y/N, you go ahead.”
Bucky, however, was… intrigued. He glanced at the store, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Speak for yourself, Stevie. I’d happily go in there and help Y/N with whatever she needs.” He delivered the line with a playful wink.
“Honestly, Steve, just come inside. It’s fine. Besides, Bucky’s making me uncomfortable with his staring.” Bucky didn’t acknowledge you, still focused on the store, and Steve reluctantly agreed. It felt wrong to leave someone else to face the hordes alone.
“Now pull up your hoods and put on those tinted glasses I got you.”
“Why?” Bucky protested. “I’m only causing harm to everyone else since now they can’t see my beauty.”
“The women in there are… how do I put this nicely? A bunch of raging hormones who’d happily throw themselves at any man who looks and acts like you two, just to get your attention.”
“Well, Y/N, are *you* included in this group of women?” Bucky asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Back off, lunchbox. No, I’m not.”
“Did you call me lunchbox because you want to eat me?” Steve looked like he might faint. You groaned and dragged Bucky by the front of his shirt into the store, oblivious to the small swarm of women who were already starting to surround Steve.
You finally glanced back when Steve asked, “Y/N, how much longer? I feel like I’m being watched.”
“Tony keeps ripping his shirts, so I need more.”
“Y/N, I do *not* need to know what you and Tony do behind closed doors.” Bucky complained. You turned to see the women swarming Steve, sniffing the air like predators.
“Steve, run!” You yelled, but Steve was confused and stayed put. It was too late. A woman you recognized as Alyssa, president of the Steve Rogers fan club, charged forward.
“I smell freedom. I SMELL STEVE ROGERS. ATTACK!” Alyssa screamed.
Someone yelled, “We can hide him in my basement! I have space!”
Steve bolted for the exit, trailed by a horde of screaming fangirls. You saw Alyssa leap onto his back with a pair of scissors, attempting to hack at his hair. You glanced around, searching for Bucky, and realized he too was making a mad dash for the car.
You paid for your purchases and hurried to the car, finding Steve and Bucky cowering in the backseat.
“So you two can fight aliens,” Steve said, "but a group of fangirls are too much.”
“Y/N, just drive. They can obviously smell us. It’s like they’re animals tracking down their prey. Start driving, maybe we can throw them off our scent.”
“No offense, Y/N, I never want to go shopping with you again,” Bucky exclaimed, and Steve nodded in agreement.