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I go up to my room and there’s girls on the ceiling
Cut out the pictures and I chase that feeling
Of an eighteen-year-old who didn’t know what loss was
Now I’m a stranger
And I miss the days of a life still permanent
Mourn the years before I got carried away
So now I’m staring at the interstate
Screaming at myself
Hey, I wanna get better!
I didn’t know I was lonely ‘til I saw your face
I wanna get better
Better, better, better
I wanna get better
I didn’t know I was broken ‘til I wanted to change
I wanna get better
Better, better, better
I wanna get better
-“I Wanna Get Better” by Bleachers
You knew something was wrong when Bucky didn’t respond.
“Barnes? Sergeant Barnes, report.”
Anxiety gnawed at your gut as your comm-link’s silence continued. That wasn’t like him. You’d run a little over twelve missions with James “Bucky” Barnes over the past six months. He was often cranky and monosyllabic, but the more you two interacted, the more he’d loosened up. He’d gone to the west side of the Hydra compound you and your SHIELD team were currently dismantling. There had been twenty confirmed hostiles and you’d cleared sixty percent of the building. Bucky had gone after some of the fleeing Hydra agents in the communication room while the team members with him secured the perimeter, and now he wasn’t answering.
“Can someone get eyes on Barnes?” You asked as you reloaded your rifle and headed down the darkened empty hallway towards the west side of the compound.
“Copy that,” Vasquez said. “I’m on my way.”
Movement up ahead to the left. You’d seen a Hydra agent try to sneak past so they could ambush you when you went by. You flattened yourself to the wall and moved lightly, unhooking a grenade from your belt. You lined yourself up with the door jamb, counted to three, and then pulled the pin and chucked it inside. You darted away after you heard a panicked scream and then the grenade went off, taking care of the threat. You kept going.
“Shit,” Vasquez said. “Something’s wrong. Barnes is down.”
Your heart constricted. “Status report.”
“He’s alive, he’s just…I don’t know. You’d better get here quick.”
“Copy that, I’m almost there.” You hastened your pace as you cleared corners before going down two more hallways and then reached the main floor that had been the operations deck for the Hydra base. It was all computers and databases.
You pushed through the doors to find your teammate kneeling beside Bucky. You almost froze when you saw him. He was on his knees, curled up in a ball, his hands clutching his head, rocking back and forth, his upper body jerking with erratic breaths.
“Shit,” you whispered, eyes wide, mouth dry. You hurried over to him and slid your rifle around to your back, kneeling on his other side. “Sergeant Barnes, can you hear me? Bucky?”
He didn’t respond. Vasquez shook his head. “It’s like he’s catatonic. You don’t think he’s been triggered?”
“No, I spoke with his therapist personally. The Winter Soldier programming is gone for good. This is something else.” You pointed to the doors. “Finish clearing the compound. I’ll stay with him and see what I can do.”
“Roger that. Be careful.” Vasquez brought his rifle back up at the ready and headed out to meet with the other team members.
You took off your combat gloves and tucked them into your utility belt. You turned your mic off as well. Then you very gently lay a hand on Bucky’s cheek, using a soft tone. “Bucky, can you hear me? I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”
He didn’t budge. You took a deep breath and tried again. “James, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Bucky croaked. “Yeah, I can hear you.”
You slid a little closer and stooped down so he could hear you better. “I think you’re having a panic attack. I need you to slow your breathing and listen to my voice. Focus on me. Breathe in. Breathe out.”
“Can’t, I can’t, I can’t, it’s all my fault—”
“Shh,” you whispered. “I know you’re in pain. It’s okay. Breathe, James. Just breathe.”
He sucked in a huge breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing right for several minutes, like something had reached inside his chest and constricted his lungs. You took his right wrist and tugged on it as carefully as you could, pulling it down and away from his head. His metal left arm mirrored the movement. He was still shaking, but as he drew in steadier breaths, the shaking began to subside. You pushed him more upright, then brought him against your chest. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed his forehead against your neck. His arms wound around you almost automatically, probably a completely subconscious gesture.
“That’s it,” you murmured, lightly running your fingers through his dark hair. “Easy. Just keep breathing, James.”
Gradually, you felt the tension in his body loosening as he followed instructions until his breathing was as close to normal as it could be. He let go of you and straightened up, his eyes red, cheeks wet, a wounded look on his face. You cupped his face in both hands and guided him to meet your eyes, keeping the same calm demeanor and voice. “Do you know where you are?”
Bucky nodded once, his voice hoarse. “Luxemburg.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Was…clearing the room of hostiles. One of ‘em went after me while the rest ran, wouldn’t stop, just kept attacking and attacking.” He swallowed hard. “Mask came off. It was a girl. Just a kid. Couldn’t be more than seventeen. She told me I killed her parents. Drove them off the road chasing after someone as the Winter Soldier. Joined Hydra so she could find a way to get to me.”
He shook his head, closing his eyes, his arms limp in his lap. “She was just a kid.”
You licked your lips, unsure how to handle that awful revelation. “Where did she go?”
“Stabbed me and ran off,” he muttered. You jumped in alarm at this admission and then immediately started searching for the wound. You checked his lower back on the left side and saw blood soaking through a soft spot in his armor. The shock must have numbed him. He had the super soldier serum as well, but he was still flesh and blood, no regeneration. You quickly opened your field First Aid kit and staunched the wound, tying it tightly to stay in place. He didn’t move or object, still showed no signs of feeling the pain.
When you were done, you cupped his face in your hands again, pulling his gaze. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but we have to get out of here. Can you stand?”
He nodded numbly. You helped him up and pulled his arm around your shoulder to help him walk so he wouldn’t tear the wound open wider. You turned your mic back on. “I’ve got Barnes and I’m taking him back to base for medical attention. Report when the site is clear and scramble for prisoner transport.”
“Copy that,” your team replied. You and Bucky made it to the jet and you got him on board. You called ahead to the SHIELD site to prep him for emergency care. The team confirmed the site had been taken and all hostiles were neutralized, so you left it to them to finish up.
Once you reached cruising altitude, you set it on auto pilot. It would take around twenty minutes at this speed to reach base, so you opened the ship’s much more extensive First Aid kit and brought it over to the still unnervingly quiet soldier sitting in the rear of the jet. “Hey. Sorry, but I’ve got to finish dressing the wound.”
Bucky finally glanced at you with a ghost of his usual overconfident smirk. “Couldn’t wait to see me with my shirt off again, huh?”
You rolled your eyes and snorted. “Keep talking, Barnes. There’s iodine in this kit.”
He chuckled softly and undid the upper half of his armor. “Yes ma’am.”
Once his upper body was bare, he turned to sit sideways on the bench and you sat behind him, placing the kit between you. It was a nasty cut, about two inches across, but thankfully not deep enough that you had to worry about a kidney having been nicked. You’d dressed so many wounds in the field by now to know the signs of internal bleeding. He’d have to worry about extra air in his torso, though, so you’d also called ahead for X-rays along with the probable stitches he’d need. For now, you just needed to seal the wound better so he wouldn’t bleed out before you got to the medical wing.
Bucky held still, never flinching as you worked, a testament to just how high his pain threshold was by now. It hurt you to think about it. After all, he’d gotten that by way of torture. You never felt bad about what you did to some of these Hydra agents. Their organization personified evil.
“How’d you know what to do?” Bucky asked rather quietly.
You glanced at him in surprise. Then you returned your gaze to the wound. “My roommate in college used to have panic attacks. We learned that touch and tone could help calm her down. She…came from an abusive household. If anyone raised their voice at her, she’d have an attack.”
“I see.” He shifted slightly in his seat as if uncomfortable, his voice still hushed. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So I guess you have to report this back to my shrink, huh?” he grunted.
You studied him for a moment. “Not necessarily.”
He eyed you over his shoulder. “Why?”
You shrugged. “If you don’t want me to report it, then I won’t.”
He scowled. “I don’t respond well to pity, just FYI.”
You sighed. “I don’t pity you, Bucky. I understand. I spent four years with a friend going through PTSD from abuse. And I know the therapy is a requirement and it definitely helps, but at the same time, all they’ll do is bench you for a month. And I know you. You’re gonna sit at home blaming yourself until you go into a downward spiral.”
“You know me, huh?”
“To a degree, yes. We’ve run a lot of missions together. We’re not friends or anything, but I get the general gist of what you’re about and I wouldn’t mind cutting you some slack given what you have to put up with on a daily basis. Mental health isn’t easy. It’s even harder for someone who’s been through such a long period of trauma.”
He stayed quiet for a bit, as if thinking. “What about Vasquez? He saw what happened.”
“I can persuade him not to report it. But in exchange, I want you to take the weekend off. Request medical leave for the stab wound and just…take some time for yourself.”
“I thought you said I’ll just sit around and blame myself for what happened if I’m at home.”
“Not if it’s just a few days. I think you need some quiet. You’ve been running a lot of missions lately. It might be time to recharge. Go out, spend time with friends, that sort of thing.” You finished dressing the wound and started packing up the kit. Bucky slid to one side so he could look at you square on, his expression inscrutable.
“I’m not really very social, you know.”
You flicked him a sarcastic look. “Yeah, no shit, Bucky. You have the social skills of an alligator with a hernia.”
He laughed. “Wow, that was mean. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I’m sure there are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” you sniffed as you placed the First Aid kit back in the storage bin where it belonged.
“Fair enough. So come have a drink with me tonight.”
You stumbled as you turned around to gawk at him. He wore his usual smirk, those blue eyes twinkling with utter mirth at your reaction. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You said I don’t know you,” he said as he pushed to his feet, walking towards you. “Have a drink with me. Isn’t that what people our age do when they want to get to know one another?”
It was very difficult not to stare at his bare, glistening chest from so close. You wanted to yeet his armor at him before you did something stupid, like bite one of his pecs. You crossed your arms and leveled a look at the grinning Avenger. “First off, you’re like, what? Ninety-six years old? You are not my age. Second off, who says I want to get to know you?”
He shrugged his metal shoulder. “Call it a hunch.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you hitting on me, Sergeant Barnes?”
“Like I’m that dumb,” he said frankly. “You’d judo chop me in the throat if I tried that.”
“Correct. Maybe you do know me.” You drummed your fingers on your bicep, thinking about it. All in all, you did actually like him. He was funny and charming when he wanted to be and amazingly effective in the field. You always relied on his tactical knowledge for missions since it was impeccable from the years of experience he had, both before and after the Winter Soldier program. And it didn’t hurt that the man was extremely easy on the eyes.
But that was also the problem.
It was entirely too easy to imagine letting that last part slip and the night ending in a session of irresponsible but blazing hot sex.
“One drink,” you said. “And I get to pick where.”
“You’re the boss.” He went back over to the bench and scooped up his armor, thankfully pulling it on. You weren’t too proud to watch how the powerful muscles in his back stretched against his soft, scarred skin. You pretended to turn around and mind the controls when he faced you again so he wouldn’t catch you peeping at him.
“Eight o’clock sound good?” he asked.
“What, that’s not past your bedtime, old man?”
“I’ll make an exception this one time,” he said dryly. “Besides, don’t sneer. I get to use senior discounts, you know. I can hook you up with some good stuff.”
You laughed. “I’ll consider that, thanks.”
From there, everything felt just a little more normal as you returned to the Luxemburg SHIELD outpost and Bucky got stitched up. You met your teammates upon their return and had a brief conversation with Vasquez. He was a bit worried, but he took your word when you told him you had it under control and to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt this one time. They hopped a plane back to the states, whereas you and Bucky opted to stay an extra night so you could grab that drink he’d promised you. You’d fly back in the morning, since your superiors had given you the option since it had been such a long day.
You picked a bar-slash-club with a nice view of Luxembourg City. It had a pretty lowkey atmosphere, which should have meant Bucky wouldn’t be recognized or mobbed, either by fans or folks with an ax to grind. You debated about dressing up, but figured he’d probably tease you if you did. You went with a softer casual look: black gaucho pants, a nice silk blouse, and dressy wedges, complimented with hoop earrings. You fit in but also didn’t seem as if you were trying too hard.
To his credit, Bucky didn’t look bad either. He’d worn a navy dress shirt, nice jeans, and boots with a black jacket over the ensemble. SHIELD naturally put you up in a secure hotel together, so you shared your ride there and would share it back as well.
After you put in your drink orders, you sat in seats by the window. Bucky relaxed into his, an easy smile on his lips. “So this is what you look like with your hair down.”
You quirked an eyebrow up. “Is there a problem?”
“No, it’s just funny. So used to the jumpsuit and the body armor. And you usually have your hair up too.”
“It’s more tactical that way.”
“True.” He gestured to you. “So tell me about yourself.”
You pursed your lips. “I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.”
Bucky chuckled. “You’re gonna make this difficult, aren’t you?”
You smiled and batted your lashes. “Why be difficult when you can be impossible?”
“You’re not impossible or I wouldn’t be hanging out with you.”
You snorted. “That’s not what some of the other agents think about me.”
“Only because some of them aren’t used to women of authority.”
You eyed him. “And you are?”
“I prefer it, actually. Female commanders are more perceptive, precise, and punctual. Never had a problem with a single one. Male commanders, you gotta deal with machismo and that kinda crap. Steve is about the only one I’ve worked with where ego wasn’t a problem.”
You nodded. “The agents that have worked with him said the same. He’s really humble and he treats everyone the same no matter what their ranking.”
“Yeah, I wish there were more like him.” The waitress came back with your drinks and you indulged. It was good, much different from drinks in America. You savored it before continuing.
“I’ve been with SHIELD for about six years, not counting the years in the Blip when I was gone,” you said, deciding to comply. “I came here from a recommendation from the FBI.”
Bucky sipped his beer. “What made you decide to go for it?”
“Mm…I guess it was a couple of things. Change in scenery. Opportunity to work for the cutting edge of American technology. I enjoyed closing cases, but the fieldwork with SHIELD is a lot more my speed. There’s not as much bureaucracy. Plus, I admit I was a bit of a fan of the heroes. I mean, there are so many incredible things they can do and getting to work in the same environment as them is pretty humbling.”
“Yeah, by the time Steve got me out, it was pretty crazy reading about gods and aliens and other dimensions. Like something out of a science fiction novel or Tolkien.”
“Definitely. I actually got to fire a Chitauri weapon once. That was insane.”
Bucky grinned. “Did you hit the target?”
“Oh, yeah, bullseye, baby.”
He laughed. “That sounds like you. You’re the best shot on the team, that much I know. I never told you how impressed I was when you detonated that charge from half a mile out while on the jet. That takes a lot of skill.”
“Well, when you put in the time, it’s pretty amazing what you can accomplish.”
“Yeah, you work long hours, being in charge of a unit, right?”
You nodded. “Hell, this is the first time I’ve been out in four months. And the time before that was because it was Vasquez’s birthday.”
Bucky shook his head. “And you’re telling me to take a couple days off. Don’t throw stones in a glass house.”
You sighed. “I know, I know, I should take more time off, but there’s so much going on all the time. I look up and it’s like halfway through the year and I’ve forgotten my own birthday and haven’t had a day off in six months. That’s the job.”
“That is the job, but the only way you stay sane is if you take care of yourself.” Bucky sat back in his seat, studying you. “Why don’t you come play hooky with me?”
You lifted your eyebrows again in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“No, really,” he said. “It’s been a long week. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of paid time off accumulated. We’ll go to a movie or something, you know, whatever the kids do these days.”
You chuckled. “And exactly why would I put up with you on my few precious days off?”
Bucky stared intensely into your eyes and deadpanned, “Cause I’m fun.”
That made you giggle. “Honestly, Bucky, I’m sure you have much better things to do than entertain me.”
“I’ll water some plants and watch M*A*S*H. That’s about it. My schedule’s painfully open.”
You shook your head. “You really are a little old man.”
“Pretty much.”
“And how do I know this isn’t a trap?”
“A trap?” he echoed.
“Mm-hmm. Luring me into a false sense of security before you strike.”
He gave you a sly look. “C’mon, you know me better than that. If it were that easy, I’d have done it already.”
Your jaw dropped. “Bucky.”
“What? You’re the one who said it.”
You blushed. “I didn’t expect you to agree.”
“Honesty is my curse, I admit it.”
You huffed, draining your drink. “Jerk.”
“I’m kidding.”
You eyed him, but a little more seriously this time. “All joking aside, what’s with the sudden interest?”
His expression sobered. “You were right before. About me not being…social, I guess. Not having friends, not even trying to make friends, I just…”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I think all that time being the Winter Soldier made me forget how to be a person. And I think if I want to prevent something like today from happening again, then I need to start making new memories. Better ones. Ones with good people.”
He took a deep breath. “Like you.”
You blinked at him. “Bucky, I’m not—”
“You are,” he said quietly, emphatically. “Or you wouldn’t have helped me out and covered for me today.”
Wow. This was definitely a side of him you hadn’t expected to see. His words touched you, honestly. You’d been the one to help him because you knew how, because there was no one else, because you knew how it felt to be alone and struggling. He wanted to show his gratitude. It couldn’t hurt to let him. It was just hard for you, being vulnerable, letting someone in.
You cleared your throat. “What did you have in mind?”
“Movie first, then I’ll make you dinner. Deal?”
“I pay for the concessions, but yeah. Deal.”
Bucky bought you both two more rounds as you chatted about different missions and the state of the world. It was pretty late by the time you both got back to the hotel. You weren’t drunk, but you were a little tipsy, which made you more extroverted than usual, you noticed. Your rooms were on the same floor, across the hall from each other, so you strolled leisurely towards them together.
“Thanks for the drink, Bucky,” you told him sincerely. “This was…fun, actually.”
“I told you I was,” he said with that same deadpan face and you giggled again.
“Night, Bucky.”
He didn’t respond at first, looking at you and tapping his hotel key card against his fingertips. He seemed to be thinking something over. He faced you, a quiet intensity in his gaze, and then leaned to your height. He rested a warm hand on your waist and kissed your cheek. His lips were as soft as they looked. You blushed from head to toe, startled but not in a bad way.
“Thank you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours briefly.
Then, before you could say anything more, he disappeared inside his hotel room.
You weren’t sure what kind of movies Bucky would like, so you went with something easy and agreeable: a comedy. After all, it sounded like he needed to relax and having a few laughs couldn’t hurt. You found a nice, witty comedy feature in theaters and met him there. Like last time, you didn’t go full dressy to avoid making it feel like a date: just a nice pair of jeans, flats, and a cute blouse. Bucky wore a black motorcycle jacket, white shirt, black jeans, and sneakers, so he fit right in with you.
To your relief, you’d made the right choice. Bucky laughed quite a few times during the movie, which was great since it meant he’d probably acclimated to enough of the current culture to get plenty of the jokes. You shared a bucket of popcorn with him—though he had been offended when he heard just how much the concessions were—and had a good time yourself with it.
Afterward, you both chatted about things you’d liked and disliked while walking along the sidewalk. You’d taken an Uber here since you were heading to his place next, then stopped dead as you realized why he’d been wearing a motorcycle jacket. It wasn’t to look cool—it was because he’d arrived here on a motorcycle.
“Uh,” you said, eyeing it. “You could’ve mentioned the motorcycle, Bucky.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Never been on one before.”
He gave you a baffled look. “Seriously? You’re a spy.”
You shrugged. “It just never came up.”
“You’re not scared of them, are you?”
“No, it’s just…” You gestured to the busy street. “It’s New York. These people don’t know how to drive worth a damn.”
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “But don’t worry, done this a million times, we’ll be fine.”
He popped open the rear container underneath the seat and handed you a helmet. You tried not to gulp as you accepted it. Bucky chuckled at the look on your face. “Really, if it’s gonna bother you, you can take an Uber—”
“No, no,” you insisted, smoothing your hair down before putting the helmet on. “I should try new things. It’s good for a girl. I think.”
He touched the small of your back as he led you closer to the bike. “It’s a piece of cake, I promise. I can even show you how to ride if you want.”
You let out a dry laugh. “Ah, no, sir, I think I’m okay.”
Bucky grinned as he kicked a leg over the side and took a seat, taking his own helmet off the handlebars. You mustered the courage to do the same and scooted forward until you were safely on board, same as him. Bucky pulled your arms around his middle and clasped your hands together, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Keep a good grip, okay?”
You nodded and he pulled his own helmet on before firing up the bike. It was good it was so loud—he didn’t hear you yip in surprise as the motorcycle roared to life. He flipped up the kickstand and backed the bike up after letting the engine warm for a little bit. You said a silent prayer as he waited for cars to pass and then pulled into the street.
The wind whistled past. It was equal parts cool and terrifying. You’d of course been in plenty of air crafts by now, but the maneuverability of the bike was strangely exciting in comparison. Bucky didn’t try to impress you, thank goodness, just drove smoothly along the route. There were a couple of stretches that were kind of fun, like going downhill and coasting to a stop, which reminded you of a rollercoaster. And of course, there was always the fact that you had your arms around him. He was very solid and warm against you. You held onto your left wrist with your right hand, so you weren’t groping him, but it wasn’t hard to feel the musculature of his upper body. You tried not to notice and instead enjoyed the view of the city’s nightlife during the ride.
He headed into a parking garage connected to his apartment and eased into a space, popping off his helmet and giving you a sly look over his shoulder. “You okay back there?”
“Mm-hmm,” you said as you took your helmet off as well.
“Not bad, right?”
“I’ve had worse,” you told him, handing him the helmet as you stood up. He put the second one inside the compartment and then turned to you, reaching for your face. You nearly jumped as he smoothed your hair down in the back as if out of sheer habit, like he’d done it before with other girls. You tried not to blush at how unexpectedly courteous the gesture had been. For all his teasing, Bucky seemed to still actually be a gentleman, which was nice. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Thanks for taking a chance on me,” he said, that playful nature returning. “You really should give it a try, you know. Might be a good experience and you never know when you might need it for a mission.”
“Uh-huh,” you said, folding your arms. “And I suppose you’d be the one to teach me?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Meaning I’d be trapped with you in close quarters, right?”
Bucky clucked his tongue. “You’ve got a dirty mind for a spy, you know.”
You smacked his arm while he laughed and nodded towards the sidewalk. “C’mon, it’s this way.”
He led you to his place and opened the door, letting you in ahead of him politely. It was simple and clean with hardwood floors and an open concept floorplan. There was a couch in front of a flat screen, no coffee table, and a chair by the breakfast nook instead of a stool. He certainly wasn’t the kind of guy for candles, but you could tell there was an air freshener that had put the scent of lavender in the air. He locked the door and slid out of his jacket. You handed him yours as well and he hung it in the coat closet before heading for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“Hmm, what have you got?”
“Scotch, whiskey, or Vodka.”
You arched an eyebrow. “Like straight Vodka?”
“Nah, I’ve got some cranberry juice. Drinking it straight is for alcoholics.”
You snorted in amusement. “Cranberry Vodka’s fine, thanks.”
“You got it.” He headed to the fridge and pulled out some cranberry cocktail from concentrate and fixed it for you, dropping in an ice cube and actually putting a little lime wedge on the glass, which tickled you to death. You giggled into the glass as you took a sip.
“What?” he asked.
“Did they have this drink back in your day?”
“They did, actually. Ocean Spray made it back in the 40’s. They used to call it the Red Devil.”
“Oh, boy. That’s pretty severe.”
“Hey, whatever works to make people remember it.” He stooped and brought out a flat, circular pan from underneath the stove. You didn’t mind sneaking a peek when he did; the man had a great ass, after all, and you were only human.
“So what’s on the menu?”
“Well, I’m no master chef, so I decided to go with something I can’t mess up: pizza. You just tell me what you want on it and we’re golden. I even got gluten free dough and vegetables.” He flicked a look at you. “But if you tell me you’re a vegetarian, I may have to terminate this friendship.”
You chuckled. “I’m a carnivore and I eat gluten, so it’s fine. Pepperoni sounds good.”
“Coming right up.” He nodded towards the living area. “Go take a load off.”
You saluted him and moved towards the couch. It was so spotless that it made you realize something. “Is this new?”
“Uh...”
You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Bucky, did you buy this just because I was coming over?”
“No,” he said petulantly. “I was gonna get one anyway.”
You chuckled as you sat down. “I’m not making fun of you, relax. Just an observation.”
“Oh, please, when are you not making fun of me?”
“Like you can talk.”
“Touché.”
“Mind if I turn on the TV?”
“Have at it.”
You flipped on the flat screen. He had cable, naturally. You couldn’t imagine he had adjusted to streaming channels just yet with all the information he still had to absorb. You searched for something nice and neutral, eventually settling on Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. At some point during the prepping of the pizza, Bucky looked over and saw. “Oh, yeah, those movies weren’t half bad. Didn’t like The Hobbit ones, though. They made up too much stuff. Dragon was cool.”
“Smaug was amazing,” you agreed. “But the rest, not so much. I’m surprised, though. I wouldn’t have thought you were a Tolkien fan.”
“Don’t have that much time to read these days, but it’s good. Glad it’s still around. I’m surprised how much stuff from my time managed to stick around.”
“I still think 40s fashion was better than now,” you mused. “Especially hair styles for women. It had such a classy look to it. Who doesn’t want to kick ass and look fabulous while doing it like Agent Carter?”
Bucky laughed. “Yeah, Peggy was the best of the best. No one else like her.”
Having finished making the pizza and putting it in the oven, Bucky joined you on the couch with a beer and brought over some chips. It was weird, but you felt incredibly comfortable beside him like you had during the movie. Maybe there had been some kind of wall between the two of you when you were just working professionals, but now you were on the same level.
The delicious smell of hot pizza wafted over after a while and Bucky retrieved it from the oven. He had a small table with a couple of placemats and brought it over along with the plates and another beer for himself. He refreshed your Red Devil and you ate. It was alarmingly good. Bucky was definitely from New York, given the pie was enormous and prepared just the way the city was famous for. He sent you smug looks when he noticed you ate three slices, but said nothing.
“You lied to me.”
Bucky arched an eyebrow. You grinned. “You are too a master chef. That was awesome. Gordon Ramsay wouldn’t have said no to that pizza.”
He squinted at you. “Is that the mean British guy who yells at bad cooks on TV?”
You giggled. “Correct.”
“Well, thank you. Glad you liked it. Maybe I’ll start entertaining guests after all.”
You studied him. “Am I really the only person who’s been over since you moved in?”
He nodded. “I still go and see Steve, but I don’t like moving him around too much, so he’s never been here. Just as well. It’s pretty small. Not much to look at.”
“As someone stuck in shitty apartments with equally shitty carpet floors, consider yourself lucky,” you said, tapping your heel on the nice hardwood.
“Point taken.”
You helped him clean up the dishes and the kitchen itself—despite his grumpy protests—while he put on some records. Bucky liked 40s music and you actually had a bit of a taste for it yourself thanks to the Fallout games’ soundtracks. Bucky gave you quite the interested look when he caught you singing along to “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by The Ink Spots.
“You a fan of 40s music?” he mused, crossing his arms as he watched you dry off your hands.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good, honestly.”
He cocked his head slightly. “You dance?”
“Me? Ha. I look like Frankenstein’s monster anytime I try to cut a rug.”
“Sure, maybe the complicated stuff like the waltz, but not a slow dance. I’ve seen you do an entire aikido routine from memory flawlessly. You can’t tell me you don’t know how to move.”
You eyed him. “Bucky, is this your incredibly convoluted way of asking me if I want to dance?”
He shrugged. “What if I am?”
“I…that’s…oddly refreshing. You’re such a curmudgeon. I wouldn’t have thought you liked to dance.”
“Well, before I was the Winter Soldier, I used to go dancing on weekends. Some things change, some things don’t.” He gave you that supernaturally confident smile again as he brushed past you and took your hand, bringing you with him to the middle of the living room. You pretended to be cool about the whole thing as he slipped his metal arm around you, his left hand resting just under your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your hand up against his chest, his warm fingers resting atop your own. It was disturbingly easy to relax in his arms and just sway to the beat, listening to the soft crooning.
“I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim
I just want to be the one you love
And with your admission that you feel the same
I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of
Believe me
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start a flame in your heart…”
“Bucky?” you murmured.
He shifted slightly, the edge of his chin brushing your forehead. “Hmm?”
“Is this always how you make friends?”
He laughed. “Maybe it is.”
“Mm-hmm,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Very effective. Want to know what I think?”
“Not really, but go ahead.”
You pinched him in the side, though not hard, avoiding his recent wound. “I think you might like me a little bit and this is an excuse to get to know me better.”
“Really?” He turned his face more inward towards you, brushing his soft, full lips against your temple. “Can’t figure out what would make you think that.”
Your knees went weak as he drifted to your cheek, kissing it, then your ear, then the spot below it. His voice kept the same completely innocent tone, but it had dropped an octave or two. “I don’t see any evidence backing up this claim. You sure you’re not imagining things?”
“If so, I have a very good imagination,” you breathed back as his scruff scraped pleasantly along the side of your cheek as he headed for your throat. You could think of several reasons why this was a bad idea. An awful idea, in fact. You both worked for SHIELD and he was a recovering PTSD survivor. You knew you should explain to him that it wouldn’t be smart to get tangled up romantically when you both had so much baggage.
You knew that.
And yet your mouth wasn’t saying the words.
Especially not after he nudged aside the collar of your blouse and pressed slow, hot kisses against your collarbone one at a time. Nothing did you in like neck kisses. You might as well have been a goner at this point. Your brain had gone full traitor and just wanted to soak in these incredible sensations. It had been a painfully long time since the last time you’d enjoyed a man’s touch.
He trailed back up until your faces were level again and he licked your mouth open. You lost all sense of reason and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard, burying a hand in his thick, dark hair. God above, he felt good, so solid and warm. He kissed you like he wanted to drink you down like ambrosia. He tasted wonderful. His hands ran up and down your sides over and over until you got up on your tiptoes to reach him better. He slipped his arm around you and lifted you to meet him, the kisses growing hotter, messier.
A moment later, you were both stumbling towards the couch. You landed underneath him, tugging at his t-shirt to yank it off of him. He stretched his arms up to let you remove it before doing the same to you. Once he had your shirt off, he crawled down to your belly button and licked the spot above your jeans, making you gasp and shudder in surprise. He undid your jeans and dragged them off of you, landing his heavy waist between your spread legs as he kissed his way up the center of your body. He stopped long enough to pay homage to your breasts, nipping lightly at the curves unhidden by the bra. You smoothed your hands up his glorious abs and chest, feeling smooth skin peppered with scars, then moved around to his broad back. You ran your nails over the small of his back and he growled in delight, his hips grinding impatiently against your lower body.
His hands slipped beneath you and the bra popped loose. Bucky cast it aside and let his wintry blue eyes drag down over your naked skin in open appreciation. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, baby.”
He skimmed his right thumb over one breast before lowering his lips to it, ghosting the metal hand down your naked side and lightly dragging the fingertips across your ribs. His hot mouth on your nipple made you cry out and clutch him tighter, helplessly pressing your aching cunt into his pelvis. He bit lightly and sucked at the delicate mound, losing it inside his mouth and out again over and over. He switched to your other breast and did the same, leaving your skin oversensitive and flushed with slight beard burn.
He sank back onto his haunches and gripped your panties, tugging them up and off your legs. He paused long enough to give you that sadistic little smirk as he tucked them inside the back pocket of his jeans and then gripped your thighs, parting them further and straightening them out to rest on his shoulders.
You bit your bottom lip to stifle a moan as he kissed his way down the inside of your left leg, taking little teasing bites. He buried his face in your inner thigh and bit a kiss mark into it, driving a needy moan from you. He licked it to sooth it and then skimmed over to your right thigh, leaving a matching kiss mark and beard burn, stopping when he reached your knee. He flattened his hand against your lower tummy and let it skim down until his palm grazed your clit. You whimpered his name, already panting like you’d run a marathon from the blazing pleasure rushing through you.
Those thick lashes came down to frame his eyes as he stared at you lustfully as he slowly circled your clit with his thumb, forming a tight loop and pressing down just slightly until you were seeing stars and clutching the couch cushion under you desperately to keep it together. Once he was satisfied with turning you into a trembling mess, he angled two fingers inside you, pushing deep to the third knuckle.
“James!”
He exhaled and licked his lips. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you.”
You writhed as he slid his fingers nearly free of you, your burning core overflowing with pleasure as he returned to you a second time, a third, thrusting steadily. He slid his metal hand up your naked body until it cupped your left breast, gently massaging it in time with the rhythm he built. Your head rolled back against the arm of the couch as the sensations filled you from scalp to toes, dousing you in rich heat like nothing else on Earth could. He went faster and faster every minute, slipping in so easily from how wet you’d gotten, curling his fingers to snag on your most sensitive inner spot.
“Fuck! James, please!”
“It’s awful rude of you, holdin’ out on me like this,” he purred, rotating his hand slightly just to get you to cry out again.
“I-I’m not,” you whined. “This is…a new couch…I shouldn’t—”
You squeaked as he pinched your nipple. “Are you actually worried about the upholstery right now, girlie?”
You gave him a sheepish look. “It’s a nice couch.”
He huffed out a little laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
That evil smirk returned to his lips. “Now are you gonna be a good girl for me and come or am I gonna have to make you, sweetheart?”
“B-Bucky,” you stammered, blushing furiously. You had no idea how he’d gone from 0 to 100 so quickly and thoroughly. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“Thought so. After all, you’re the stubborn type.”
He propped his hands on either side of your waist and then sank out of sight. A second later, his tongue swept all over your sopping wet outer walls and then burrowed inside you without preamble.
“James!” You grabbed the back of his head and howled as he tongue-fucked you without an ounce or mercy or hesitance. Stars burst behind your eyes. Your toes curled. The furnace between your thighs became an inferno and burned you from the inside out. You didn’t last more than a minute before you shuddered and came on those soft lips, moaning his name piteously as the climax carried you off.
“Mm, that’s more like it,” he purred after you’d eased into the afterglow, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist.
“You’re crazy,” you mumbled as you swept your sweaty hair out of your eyes to look up at him.
“Very,” he said, his eyes glittering dangerously as he undid his belt and unbuckled his jeans. You nibbled your lip as you watched him finish undressing, revealing an absolutely stellar cock underneath his dark boxer-briefs. He arranged your legs on either side of him and then kissed you, rubbing it against your lower belly enough to drive you even more insane with want.
He slipped his fingers into your hair and then down over the side of your face, running his thumb over your cheekbone. He broke the kiss long enough to press his forehead to yours, his voice hoarse with both lust and appreciation. “You took care of me. Now let me take care of you.”
He slid inside you.
Nothing could compare. Nothing at all.
You fit him like a glove. He’d fit all in one go, filling you so completely that didn’t even try to hide the moan when that first succulent bolt of pleasure crackled through you. Better still had been the low groan that left him when he’d done it and then settled his solid frame above you. “Mm, fuck, baby, you feel so good.”
He dragged your left leg up to wrap it around his waist, kissing you voraciously. He pulled out and delved in again, rotating his hips atop your own to ensure he rubbed against your clit. You gasped and dragged your nails down his chest, arching up into him. Another ragged growl left him as he pounded into you, every stroke nailing your spot, every kiss stealing your breath. You wrapped your other leg around him and held on for dear life as he rode you there on the couch, the slap of wet skin spurring you closer and closer to your orgasm. There was no way you could stand his ferocious pace for long; too soon, your toes curled and your inner muscles clenched around his cock.
“Mm, coming already, baby?” Bucky whispered, nipping your lower lip. “You gonna come for me? You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?”
Your eyes fluttered shut. You dug your nails into his back harder. “James, please…”
“It’s too late,” he teased as he kissed down the side of your neck, biting at your pulse. “You’re close, aren’t you? You’re so wet around me, baby. You can’t wait any longer. Come. Just come.”
“Christ, James,” you mewled. “I haven’t…mm…in so long…”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear. “Other guys don’t fuck you like this, do they? Just me. I’m all you’ll ever need, trust me. I can give it to you right. Right where you want it, baby.”
All it took was another roll of his hips. You came gloriously hard on his cock, undulating, convulsing, beneath him, moaning helplessly as your inner walls collapsed and bliss flooded your system. Bucky slowed a thrust at a time and leisurely marked up your throat as you recovered.
And once you did, it was clear he wasn’t done with you yet.
He scooped you up and seated you in his lap, his cock still hard, that look of mischief all over his handsome face. He kicked his pants and boxer-briefs down towards his ankles and pulled you closer, running his hands up your back as his mouth found your breasts. You clung to his shoulders as he toyed with them to his heart’s content, shivering as you felt him settle between your wet thighs, eager for more.
He pushed up with his hips lightly, smirking against your lips. “You waitin’ for an invitation, gorgeous?”
Oh, he was asking for it. You shoved on his shoulders to mash him down against the couch cushion and neatly slid yourself back onto his cock like an expert. He let out a strangled moan and grabbed your ass, squeezing, holding you in the groove of his lap so he’d be as far into you as he could reach. The sharpness of taking him from below stole the breath out of your lungs. He felt so deep inside you this way, shooting sparks all through your nerves, the excitement almost too much to bear. Nothing about tonight had been about restraint, so you immediately fell into rhythm on top of him.
“Mm, fuck, baby, that’s it,” Bucky whispered in between thrusts. “Ride me just like that. So goddamn perfect.”
He fisted a hand in your hair and pulled you down to him to kiss you. You fed on every curse and moan from him, swiveling your hips just to edge him and then slowing your pace when it felt like he was close. He slapped the left half of your ass when he realized what you were doing, but it only made you moan louder and pick up speed again. You could barely hang on any better than he could, but he’d already gotten one over on you and you had to even the score.
“Are you gonna come, James?” you lilted in his ear, pushing him especially deep on the next thrust. His long lashes fluttered, but he opened those cornflower blue eyes enough to shoot you a look of challenge.
“Not before you do, beautiful.”
You bit your bottom lip and sat back in his lap, which stretched out your naked body in the lamplight, fully and easily visible to him. “Mm, are you sure?”
He chuckled darkly as he ran his palm up from your belly to between your naked breasts, running those calloused fingertips over the column of your throat. It felt ridiculously good, as did the little circles he ground against your clit with his throbbing cock seated deep inside you. “Absolutely…fucking…sure.”
His palm dragged down your belly and then his thumb rolled your clit. The orgasm rocketed up your spine before you could even get out another word. But you’d be damned if you were going alone, so you grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him hard. A ragged growl tore from him and then his cock spilled searing jets of come inside you all at once. “Fuck! Mm, right there, sweetheart, that’s it.”
He clutched your hips hard enough to bruise, but you loved it—you loved the marks of his that you’d be wearing for a week or more, you loved every breathless moan your sex drove out of him, you loved the reckless, cocky way he fucked you, and you loved the utterly satisfying knowledge that you’d pleased him. If anyone on Earth deserved sex and affection more than him, you’d never met them.
When it was all over, he smoothed your messy hair out of the way and tipped your chin up so you’d look at him. He smiled and kissed you, gently, that same sensual energy from when you’d slow danced returning. It made you shy, that level of intimate staring, so you fidgeted a bit. “What?”
“Nothing, I just…” The smile widened, softened, to something that lit up his face. “I like you.”
You let out a hoarse laugh. “Bucky, you just now figured that out?”
“No, I…” He wrapped his arms around your back and linked his fingers. “Before, I respected you. I thought you were interesting, but…now, yeah, I like you. It’s been a while for me, liking someone. Kinda tough to be vulnerable when you’ve spent decades with blood on your hands, you know?”
“I know,” you told him softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “And I’m glad you opened up to someone, but especially me. I’ve always liked you, but you weren’t available in that way before. You’ve been through hell and you made it out the other side.”
You touched your forehead to his. “And you didn’t let it take your heart with everything else it took from you. That’s amazing. So many people have become monsters over less. You should be proud of yourself, Bucky.”
“Not sure I can manage that,” he admitted quietly.
“Then I’ll be proud for the both of us.”
You kissed between his brows. “Now let go of me, you animal, it’s cold in here.”
He laughed. “Sorry, baby, wasn’t thinking. Part of the knockoff super soldier serum is I don’t get cold very often.”
“Mm-hmm. And the other part is apparently, you can go several rounds. Jesus, Bucky, you’re still hard even after all that?”
He stood up in a single, smooth motion, carrying you as if you weighed practically nothing to him, and headed for the bedroom. “Peak performance, remember?”
Bucky tossed the covers back and gently deposited you on the bed, crawling in after you. “But if that’s gonna be a problem—”
“I didn’t say that,” you told him slyly. “It was just an observation, that’s all.”
He rolled that big, heavy body on top of you, the infamous smirk firmly in place. “I don’t know; I haven’t met many women who can keep up with me.”
You cupped the side of his face as you drew him down to kiss you, whispering, “Then you’re long overdue, sergeant.”
It was a long night after that. A good night. The kind you didn’t want to end. Best of all was when you woke up the next morning sex-dazed, fucked out, lazy, and irreversibly happy. Mostly because the hard ass Sergeant Bucky Barnes was spooning you like his life depended on it, curled up against your back like a content puppy of some sort, his arms around you almost immovable in how secure they felt. It wasn’t hard to figure out, really. Ships became lost at sea without their anchor.
And you were his.
FIN