🍂Taylor🍂

Steve threw the last log onto the flatbed of the good ol’ truck, a thing that had seen more rust than oil changes in its life.

“That should be the last of it,” he announced from the back, closing the tailgate and giving it a solid slap to make sure it held. “Start her up, Buck.”

Bucky turned back to the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The truck answered with a loud rumble before sputtering out. He tried again, resulting in another shake that rattled the cab, and then… nothing.

Steve came up to the driver’s window, resting an arm on the sill as he wiped sweat from his face with a dirty towel.

“Lucy’s not startin’?”

“Does she ever?” Bucky sneered, turning the key once more as the truck grumbled in protest. “I thought you were supposed to look her over last night.”

“I was—then I got a call to round up some loose, wild chickens. After that I got sidetracked, and, uh…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, guilty. “I fell asleep.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”

“Hey,” Steve said, nudging his shoulder roughly through the window. “While I was being productive last night, maybe you could’ve spent that time fixing her up instead of jerking off.”

Bucky shoved the door open without warning, forcing Steve to stumble aside. He gave him a sharp side-eye glare.

“I was not jerking off,” he muttered, heading for the front of the truck and popping the hood to peer into the engine.

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped up beside him, clamping a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You keep tellin’ yourself that. The walls are paper thin, you know?”

“Shut up,” Bucky mumbled with a flushed face. He reached down, jiggled the loose battery cable, then tightened the clamp with a huff.

“All right,” he said, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. “Try it now.”

“You sure that’ll—”

“Just get in the damn truck, Steve.”

With a shrug, Steve climbed back into the cab and turned the key. The engine coughed in front of Bucky, then rumbled to life, making the whole truck shaky but steadily idle.

Steve grinned out the open window. “Well, would you look at that. It’s our lucky day.”

“And we don’t get much of those,” Bucky agreed, not wasting a second as he slammed the hood shut and jogged around to the passenger side, yanking the door open.

“Don’t admire her too much now,” he warned, climbing in. “Start drivin’ before it gives out and we have to push this damn thing ourselves again.”

The truck rattled its way down the dirt road, tires crunching over gravel as the town came into view—if you could even call it that. The ‘town’ had a handful of weather-beaten buildings, a leaning water tower, and more livestock than people. Chickens scattered as Steve eased off the gas, the engine making a suspiciously loud noise that couldn’t even be ignored if they turned the radio up higher.

Fury’s place sat at the center of it all. A squat, sturdy building that had once been a general store several years ago, then a post office, and now served as whatever the town needed it to be. Meetings, supplies, paperwork.

Basically, everything important that no one else wanted to deal with.

A faded sign out front still read “COMMUNITY OFFICE,” though half the letters were missing.

“Made it,” Steve said, turning the engine off as he glanced at Bucky with a smile. “Told you Lucy had one more trip in her.”

“One,” Bucky huffed, hopping out. “Don’t get greedy.”

They climbed onto the flatbed and started unloading, tossing logs into a neat pile beside the building. The door creaked open halfway through, and Fury stepped out, cane in one hand. His good eye flicked over the truck, the wood, then the two of them.

“You’re late,” he said calmly.

Steve lifted his head as he tossed another log. “Truck trouble.”

Fury snorted. “That truck is trouble.” He eyed the woodpile with approval, though. “Still—this’ll last us through winter if rationed right. The town owes you.”

Bucky threw another log. “Town’s been owing us a while.”

Fury shifted his weight, tapping the end of his cane against one of the logs. “When you’re done,” he said, already turning back toward the door, “I’m gonna need you boys to come inside and sign the delivery papers. Wood tally, fuel credit, the usual nonsense.”

They both gave each other a look. Anything involving paperwork, pencils, and pens was well outside their familiar territory. Their comfort zone was muscles, strength, and work done with their bare hands.

The boys were… really good with their hands.

They finished stacking the last of the logs in relative silence, the only sounds being the dull thud of wood and the distant lowing of cattle.

Steve hopped down from the flatbed and dusted off his hands. “You ready, Buck?”

“Ready to skim the papers and not read a word of it?” Bucky wiped his hands on the dirty towel before tossing it through the open passenger window. “Sure.”

Inside, the building was way cooler, the air was filled with the smell of old paper, dust, and faint bitter coffee. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with binders, ledgers, and boxes labeled in Fury’s neat handwriting. A single desk sat near the back, buried under forms.

The two men lingered by the front door, leaving a trail of dirt and mud beneath their boots as their eyes adjusted from the harsh sunlight to the dim interior.

“Come here, boys,” Fury called, circling around his desk.

Steve stepped forward—but Bucky stopped short, his attention snagging on something off to the side of the office.

“Uh,” Bucky raised a finger to point, not even trying to hide it. “Who the hell is that? She lost?”

There you sat, prim and composed, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper folded neatly in your hands. Your clothes were clean, your shoes never touched by dirt, and the two suitcases at your feet looked like they cost more than what Steve and Bucky made in a day.

You looked like you had stepped off the wrong bus, yet decided to stay anyway.

Steve turned at Bucky’s voice, nearly breaking his neck to get a better look. His gaze trailed from your face down to your legs, the way you subtly bounced your foot as you were absorbed in whatever dull headline held your attention.

Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and Bucky’s breath hitched.

“Damn…” he muttered.

“No.” Fury emerged from behind the desk, glancing between the three of you. “She’s right where she’s supposed to be.”

You finally looked up when Fury tapped the side of your bench with his cane. Lifting your head, you pulled the earbud from your ear.

“Nick?”

“These are Rogers and Barnes,” Fury said. “They run the livestock operations on the outskirts.” Then he turned back to the two men. “And this is—” he paused, nodding to you, “—a family friend from the city, a couple hours away. She’s here for a research project.”

Steve stepped closer, raising a brow. “Research?”

You folded the newspaper and tucked it under your arm before standing. “Animal productivity,” you explained. “Sustainability in isolated farming communities. Breeding patterns, yield consistency, that sort of thing.”

Both of the boys tilted their head in sync, and Fury shook his own, looking at you. “You’re speaking a whole different language to these cave animals.”

Bucky crossed his arms, ignoring the jab. “And you picked this place?”

“I insisted she come here,” Fury said, raising a brow at him. “Why are you making it sound like this place is bad?”

Steve shrugged. “Well—”

“Don’t answer that,” Fury cut in with a sigh, waving a hand as he turned back to his desk. “Sign these. And once you’re done—” his gaze flicked to your suitcases, “—help her get settled in the farmhouse out back.”

“The farmhouse?” Bucky met Fury at the desk, planting both hands on the edge as he leaned over him. “You’re not stickin’ a girl like that in some dirty farmhouse, Fury.”

It seemed like every farmer you’d met so far was loud and painfully straightforward. You glanced down at yourself—your clothes, so different from the muted dresses the handful of elderly women wore around town. Since stepping off the bus, you’d been surrounded by the smell of manure, too much testosterone, and a growing sense of self-consciousness.

Fury looked up at Bucky with his good eye. “I already told her about our very limited lodging options.” He turned to you for backup. “And she was okay with it. Right?”

You were not okay with it.

You were used to a queen-sized bed in your comfortable city apartment, right in the heart of everything. Not a farmhouse.

“Yup,” you said anyway, forcing a nod and a smile.

For research. Right?

Bucky scoffed and clamped a hand down on Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer hard enough that Steve nearly stumbled.

“You know, We’ve got Sarah’s old house right next to our farm—the one that’s been collectin’ dust,” Bucky said, giving Steve a firm slap on the back to rope him in. “What do you say, Stevie? Take us a few hours to clean it up, pull the mattress outta the closet, get it all nice and tidy for our little friend here.”

All three men turned to look at you, and you suddenly felt very small beneath their attention—especially under Steve and Bucky’s eyes.

“I… wouldn’t want to intrude,” you said gently, scratching at your temple. “I’m not sure how Sarah would feel if I just moved in—”

“Sarah—God rest her—wouldn’t want an impressionable young woman like you sleepin’ in a cold, dirty farmhouse,” Bucky cut in, flashing Steve a grin.

Steve let out a slow, patient breath through his nose. “I suppose you’re right. My mother wouldn’t want that.”

Bucky turned back to you, a charming smile tugging at his mouth. “How about it, pretty girl?”

You glanced at Fury, searching his face. He was the only person you trusted here, and as long as he trusted them, that would have to be enough.

Fury let out a quiet, weary sigh and gave you a small shrug. “They look like troublemakers,” he said, “but they’re the ones keeping this town running.”

He pointed at Steve while looking at you. “You can trust this one.” Then his finger moved slowly to Bucky. “But be careful with this one.”

“Hah. Hah,” Bucky replied dryly as he crossed the room, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his heavy boots. He bent down, grabbed one of your suitcases, and tossed it toward Steve, who barely caught it off guard.

Bucky picked up the other bag and flashed you a smile.

“Our truck’s right outside. Come on.”

With one strong hand gripping the strap of your suitcase, his other hand—surprisingly respectful—settled at your lower back as he guided you towards the front door.

On the way out, he gave Steve a look, nodding once to signal him to follow.

“You two better take good care of her,” Fury called after them. “She’s a family friend. Remember that.”

Steve paused, glancing back at Fury with a sigh.

“Yeah, noted,” he muttered as he stepped outside with the luggage, following you and Bucky.

Fury waved you off, then turned back to the desk, eyeing the untouched stack of paperwork still waiting for signatures.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered.

Outside, Steve and Bucky tossed the luggage into the flatbed haphazardly. The heavy thud of your expensive bags made you flinch, especially knowing your laptop and notebooks were inside.

Bucky swung the passenger door open wide and motioned you over with a hand. “Come on in,” he said. “Lucy don’t bite.”

“Lucy?” you huffed a small laugh, hesitating as you stepped closer. Leaning inside, you saw the floorboards caked with dirt and mud; one step in and your shoes would be ruined in an instant. “Uh, I don’t think there’s room for me—”

“Sure there is,” Bucky interrupted.

Without warning, his rough hands found your hips and lifted you easily, setting you down on the passenger seat. “Scoot over,” he said. “You’re gonna have to be the middle man.”

Before you could even say anything, Bucky planted one heavy boot inside the cab and hopped inside, rocking the truck and forcing you to scramble over as he slammed the door shut. You barely had time to find your balance before Steve opened the driver’s door and climbed in, settling behind the wheel with a huff.

Now, you found yourself wedged between two broad, very dirty men who smelt like sweat and sun.

And suddenly, the cab felt very, very warm.

“Let’s see if she’ll turn,” Steve muttered, twisting the key in the ignition.

“What do you mean, let’s see?” you asked warily, tugging at the collar of your shirt. “And does this thing have air-conditioning?”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Air-conditioning would be the very thing that puts Lucy in the ground.” He tried again—the engine sputtered, then died. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but… she should come around.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on your hands folded in your lap, realizing what you had gotten yourself into. You were in the middle of pretty much nowhere, with spotty service, no sleep, wedged into a truck with two men you had never even met, headed for a house where who knew what kind of bugs were waiting for you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, voice shaky.

Steve glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Hey—don’t panic. She’ll start. Just gotta—” he turned the key again, then once more. The engine finally roared to life, rattling violently as the truck shook beneath you.

“There we go.”

Bucky rested his arm out the window, flashing Steve a grin over your head. “Our lucky day, you said?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tugged into a smirk as he shifted into drive. “Don’t get greedy.”

As Steve pulled onto the road, the truck rattled and shook over every rock and rut. You reached for the seatbelt, tugging at it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Seatbelts don’t work, sweetheart,” Steve said, glancing over at you with a reassuring smile before returning his focus to the road. “Just try to hold on tight.”

That did very little to calm you.

That was a safety hazard and straight up illegal.

You pressed your palms flat against your thighs, shoulders rigid. Your eyes switched between the flaws of the old truck— to the web of cracks in the window, to the dust on the dash—and the unfamiliar stretch of land rolling past. The farther you got from town, the quieter it became. Fewer houses, fewer people—just fields and fences stretching on forever.

Bucky could feel how tense you were from the faint brush of your shoulder against his.

“You alright?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. “You look like you’re thinkin’ about jumpin’ out and runnin’.”

You looked up at him and forced a laugh, though it came out thin and brittle. “I’m fine. Just… adjusting, I think.”

“A lot different than city life, huh?” Steve asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “This is… very different.”

“Well,” Steve said, resting one hand on the window sill and the other on the wheel, “since we’ve got a bit of a drive, why don’t you tell us more about this research project of yours?”

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “You studyin’ cows or somethin’?”

“Not just cows,” you said. “Basically, when communities are geographically isolated, access to veterinary care, supplemental feed, and modern equipment becomes limited. That can unintentionally alter breeding cycles. Livestock may breed earlier or later in the season, fertility rates can fluctuate, and stress levels directly affect overall yield.”

Bucky scratched at his chin, letting out a thoughtful hum. “Breeding…”

Steve glared at him over your head.

You just kept going, oblivious as your hands lifted slightly as you explained, slipping deeper into familiar academic territory.

“I’m also comparing seasonal fertility rates,” you said. “In places like this, breeding windows tend to be less controlled, which can lead to overlap between generations. That affects herd structure, genetic diversity, and long-term productivity.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes still on the road ahead. “Uncontrolled breedin’, huh.”

“Buck,” Steve warned.

“What? I’m not doin’ anything.”

You glanced between them, finally catching the smirk tugging at Bucky’s mouth as he fought back a laugh and the disapproving look on Steve’s face, despite the smile he was clearly trying to hide by staring out the window.

For fuck’s sake.

You were realizing now that Dirty Man One and Dirty Man Two were trying to crack inappropriate sex jokes.

“Jesus,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “You men are disgusting.”

“Hey! Don’t lump me in with him,” Steve said quickly. “I’m the one tryin’ to get him to settle down.”

The rest of the drive was surprisingly pleasant. Both of them asked about your school and your research, and every time you answered in more detail, you noticed their slightly dazed and confused expressions. Steve tended to ask the more in-depth questions, genuinely curious, while Bucky nodded along like he understood every word.

The truck bounced and swayed over ruts, rocks, and packed dirt as Steve turned into a long, wide driveway. Ahead stood a large farmhouse, with a smaller cabin-like building off to the side.

Farther to the left sat another structure.

A very, very small one.

Too small to be a house, but just big enough to be a storage shed.

“Here we are,” Steve announced as the truck rumbled to a stop and the engine cut out.

You raised a finger, pointing to the small shed. “Is that—”

Before you could finish the question, both men opened their doors and hopped out of the truck without a word. They grabbed your luggage—now smudged with grime and dirt—and started carrying it to the shed.

You scrambled out of the truck, nearly stumbling as your feet hit the ground, and hurried after them.

“Wait—hey!” you called, jogging to keep up as they headed straight for the shed. “T-that’s not where I’m staying, is it?”

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, adjusting his grip on one of your suitcases. “That little building over there? Yeah. That’s it.”

Steve slowed a little, giving you a little apologetic look as you caught up. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promised. “My mom used it as a guest place for a bit. Solid roof, no leaks—”

“And a whole lot better than the farmhouse Fury was gonna stick you in,” Bucky added.

You looked at the structure again as you walked —weathered wood, a single small window, and a door that had clearly seen better decades. Your pace faltered.

“Guys,” you said flatly. “That is a shed.”

Bucky stopped in front of it and set the luggage down, turning to face you with a grin.

“Technically,” he said, “it’s a converted shed.” He lifted a hand just in time to catch the key Steve tossed his way.

“We fixed it up, mostly.” Steve looked down at your expression, the way your teeth caught your bottom lip and the weary, beady eyes you’ve been wearing ever since they picked you up in their truck.

Without thinking, he rested a protective hand at your back, drawing your attention.

“I know this is different from the city life you’re used to,” he said gently. “But I promise, it just needs a few touch-ups. You’ll get comfortable in no time.”

The way Steve looked at you eased the tension in your chest. His smile was warm, his voice patient and kind. And if Fury said this was the one you could trust, then so be it.

“Thank you, Steve.”

The other one, on the other hand…

Bucky unlocked the door with a huff. Dust immediately billowed out, making him cough as he waved a hand in front of his face. He glanced back at you and Steve.

“Oh, by the way,” he said. “There’s no bathroom in here.”

Perfect.

Bucky nudged the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside, his heavy work boots creaking against the frail wooden floorboards. Steve followed, setting your luggage just inside the doorway.

You hesitated at the doorframe before stepping in after them.

The place was ridiculously tiny. One narrow room with a low ceiling, a single window coated in dust, furniture and cabinets that looked like it could barely hold up. It smelled like old wood, hay, oil and something faintly metallic—you didn’t know what.

Back in the city, you had white walls, clean linens, and the oddly relaxing hum of traffic outside your window. Here, you had stained wallpaper peeling at the edges and bawking chickens.

For your research project, you reminded yourself. You chose this.

Bucky looked around with his hands on his hips. “It’s small,” he said thoughtfully, “but I think it’s the perfect size for a girl like you.”

He smiled, and you weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to take that.

When he noticed your silence, the smile slipped just a bit. “You okay?”

You snapped out of it, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah, I just…” You exhaled, rubbing your arms. “I think I really need a shower. If that’s—uh—even possible.”

“Oh,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Sure. But you’re not doin’ that here.”

You gave Steve a look, almost like a silent plea for backup, but he only shrugged in response as Bucky continued, smirk firmly in place.

“C’mon. Our place is right next door. Real bathroom. Hot water.”

You shifted on your feet, eyeing them both suspiciously. “And the door,” you asked carefully, “it locks?”

The two men exchanged a silent look, and immediately, you regretted asking. Here they were—offering you a ride, a place to stay they’d fix up just for you, even letting you use their shower—and you’d gone and asked if the lock worked, as if you were accusing them of being some kind of creeps.

But then they blinked at each other and burst into laughter.

Bucky let out a sharp bark, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he grinned. “It locks.”

Steve wiped at his face, trying to rein it in. “You know, you’ve got men out here showerin’ in their front lawns with a bucket of water and a bar of soap,” he added. “But I get it. Can’t blame you for askin’. City instincts.”

Your face immediately burned with embarassment. You’ve delt with your fair share of annoying men in the city, but it was something about being surrounded by farmer men that made the teasing feel ten times more insufferating.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “Very funny.”

Still smiling, Steve wiped at the corner of his eye and motioned toward the door. “Come on. Follow us—we’ll show you where you can wash up.”

After you quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes out of your luggage, they led the way across the yard, Steve out front and Bucky hanging back just enough to make sure you were keeping up. The dirt path had been worn smooth by years of boots and tires, and on either side of it the farm stretched out in every direction.

Cows clustered near the fence line, tails swishing lazily. A pair of horses lifted their heads as you passed, ears flicking toward you with mild curiosity. Chickens roamed freely, darting around your feet like they owned the place. Everything felt alive— busy and loud in ways that reminded you of the city, though it couldn’t have been more different.

The farm loomed closer as you approached—big, solid, and weathered, with hay bales stacked nearby and buckets of feed scattered around the yard.

Walking past, you reached the house itself. It was a small, one-story, cabin-like structure built from dark wood. The door creaked as Steve pushed it open, and the scent inside was a stark contrast to the earthy, animal smells outside.

From the doorway, you could smell the soap, clean laundry, and coffee. You were met with heavy wooden furniture. Worn floors. Tools leaned neatly against one wall. A pair of muddy boots sat by the door.

Very manly was the only way you could describe it.

Steve stepped aside to let you in. “Watch your step.”

As you stepped in, dodging the muddy boots, the house felt sturdy and lived-in. Not polished, but definitely cared for.

Bucky shut the door behind you with his heel and jerked his head down the narrow hallway. “Bathroom’s this way.”

You followed, your gaze drifting over the details as you walked by. Family photos tacked messily to the wall—they didn’t look alike at all, had different lastnames, so siblings seemed unlikely, yet there were dozens of pictures of them together from childhood. A calendar hung nearby, crowded with notes about feed deliveries and vet visits, all scrawled in incomprehensible, sloppy boy handwriting.

Bucky paused and pointed at one of the photos—a younger version of him and Steve standing side by side with crooked smiles.

“Handsome, ain’t he?” he asked, tapping at himself.

You couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve seen better.”

Steve snorted while Bucky rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. He stopped at the last door and pushed it open with his knuckle.

“Here we go.”

The bathroom was small but clean. White tile lined the walls, a deep tub sat beneath a real showerhead, and shelves held neatly folded towels alongside mismatched bottles of soap. A narrow window above the sink let in a stripe of late-afternoon light, dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

“Hot water takes a minute,” Bucky said, leaning against the wall. “Gotta let it run first.”

You looked between the two men, clutching your folded clothes to your chest. “Thank you—both of you. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said with a casual wave of his hand. “A friend of Fury’s is a friend of ours.”

Bucky pushed himself off the wall and stepped aside, giving you room to enter. “Steve and I will clean up the shed while you’re in here. By the time you’re done, it should be ready with the mattress and all.”

Your smile softened as you glanced at him. “You guys are great. Seriously, I couldn’t be—”

“Just make sure you shout us out in that research paper,” Bucky cut in with a grin, resting his hand on the doorknob. “And don’t forget to let the water run. Enjoy your shower, pretty girl.”

The door shut softly behind you.

And on the other side, Steve immediately whacked the back of Bucky’s head.

“Pretty girl? Pretty girl?” Steve whisper-yelled. “Are you kidding me?”

Bucky winced, rubbing the back of his head as they headed down the hall towards the front door. “What? She is pretty, Steve. And don’t act like you’re any better. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?”

“I’m trying to be respectful, Buck,” Steve sighed as he pushed the front door open.

“And I was being respectful,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “You know how rare it is for a beautfiul woman like that to be around here. Gotta make a good first impression.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Get your head out of your ass. A girl like that would want nothing to do with dirty men like us.”

“Oh—come on, Steve,” Bucky whined, following after him like a bug in the air, “why you gotta be so hopeless, man?”

“Not hopeless,” Steve corrected, pushing the shed door open. “Realistic.”

Bucky scoffed as he followed him inside, heading straight for the closet. He hauled out the folded air mattress and the old hand pump, dropping them onto the floor. “Yeah, yeah. Still—doesn’t hurt to imagine, you know?”

Steve grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner and started clearing dust and debris. “Imagine what, exactly?”

Bucky grinned, eyes drifting back to the window that faced the house for a second before he caught himself.

“I dunno. Coming home after a long day, boots covered in dirt, back sore as hell—and there she is. Clean, soft, talkin’ about all that smart stuff she knows. Maybe dinner’s on the stove, or she’s sittin’ at the front there with a book, lookin’ all pretty.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Have not,” Bucky said, laying the mattress out where Steve had just swept and starting to pump air into it. “Tell me you wouldn’t want that—a gorgeous girl like that walkin’ around the house, keepin’ it warm and cozy—barefoot and all.”

Steve went quiet as he lifted an old bed frame and leaned it against the wall. He didn’t answer right away, but the faint pink creeping up his ears gave him away at the thought.

“…I guess,” he admitted slowly, “it’d be nice to have someone to come home to.”

Bucky’s grin turned smug instantly. “Ah. There it is.”

“She’s here for research,” Steve reminded him firmly, snapping himself back to reality. “Not to get hitched to a couple of guys who spend all day haulin’ logs and tendin’ cattle.”

“But picture this, Stevie—” Bucky glanced up as he crouched on the floor, steadily pumping air into the mattress. “You work yourself half to death,” he went on, muscles flexing. “We both do. Up before the sun, down after it sets. Muscles sore, hands cracked, brain fried.” He slowed, leaning his weight against the pump. “Wouldn’t kill us to have someone who… helps take the edge off.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve groaned, turning to try and hide the blush on his cheeks. “You’re gross, man.”

“Look—” Bucky sighed as he stood, “we haven’t had a woman like that around here in a long time. And she’s not just any woman—she’s smart.” He shook his head, scoffing lightly. “A man’s allowed to dream about comin’ home to somethin’ nice. Maybe even havin’ a smooth pair of legs wrapped nice and tight around—”

His voice trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you through the window.

You stood on the front porch, barefoot, a towel draped around your shoulders as water dripped from your hair. You were dressed in something light and easy—a dress. Nothing fancy, but far more comfortable than what you’d worn when they first met you.

… And somehow, far more domestic.

Steve followed Bucky’s gaze, his breath hitching once he saw you. Bucky swallowed hard. Neither of them spoke.

Then, they finally looked at each other, faces warm, wearing the same boyish, awed grin—just like the ones frozen in those crooked childhood photos on the wall.

“Pretty,” they both murmured at the exact same time.

They watched as you lifted a hand to shield your eyes, squinting against the afternoon sun as you scanned the yard. You took a few steps down the porch, bare feet tip-toeing around the dirt as you tried to squint at the shed.

Bucky straightened immediately, dropping the pump as it hit the wooden floors with a loud thud. “She’s lookin’ for us.”

Steve was already moving, setting the broom aside so quickly it wobbled, then clattered against the wall before falling to the floor. “Well—don’t just stand there!”

They headed for the door at the same time, bumping shoulders as they squeezed past each other, neither willing to give ground. When you spotted them walking toward you with Steve taking the lead and Bucky half a step behind, clearly trying to edge ahead, a small smile spread across your face.

“Oh—there you two are. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to—” you sighed in relief, gesturing vaguely at the farm around you. “—wander.”

Bucky let out a short chuckle, rocking back on his heels as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You can wander all you’d like, darlin’,” he said. “What’s ours is yours.”

The nickname threw you off guard. You felt your face warm, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the sun as you tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Back in the city, men didn’t really talk like that unless they were intoxicated at a bar and trying to get in your pants.

But this felt different. Maybe it was just that gentleman, charming, farmer boy thing.

“Oh,” you said, a little breathless. “That’s—uh… really sweet. Thank you, Bucky.”

Steve gave Bucky a look out of the corner of his eye—a careful look. Bucky, meanwhile, looked far too pleased with himself.

“Just don’t go wanderin’ too far, baby,” Steve added quickly, stepping up onto the porch beside you. “Some of the fences are old, and the horses don’t always respect personal place.”

If you hadn’t been flustered before, you definitely were now.

You didn’t get called things like darlin’ or baby very often, and even when you did, the words had never affected you like this. Not the way they sounded coming from two devastatingly handsome, accommodating men with soft southern accents.

“I—okay,” you said quickly, nodding as you snapped yourself out of it, though the corners of your mouth still tugged into a smile. “I’ll be careful.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he glanced at Steve, then back at you, his own lips twitching like he was biting back a comment.

“We’ve fixed up the shed for you,” Bucky said instead, propping one leg on the porch step and resting a hand on the railing. “Mattress is ready if you wanna rest. You wanna take a look?”

Your attention drifted past the shed, toward the open fields, the fencing, and the animals moving lazily across the land.

“Actually,” you trailed, removing the towel from your shoulders, “would it be okay if I checked out the animals first?”

Bucky tilted his head. “Animals?”

“For my research,” you clarified quickly. “I’d really like to get an initial survey while there’s still daylight. Just some baseline observations—livestock condition, spacing, behavior. I won’t get in the way.”

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky—a look you’d noticed they shared often since you arrived.

Then Steve smiled back at you. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just—” he gestured vaguely to the fences, “—stay where we can see you. Okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not planning on getting lost.”

As you turned back to the house, already half a step up the porch with the intention of grabbing your shoes, something caught the corner of your eye. Your gaze snapped to the far end of the pasture, where a small cluster of animals had gathered. A few cows wandered lazily nearby, but it was two chickens in particular that caught your attention.

A hen crouched low to the ground, wings spread slightly, tail lifted—while a rooster mounted her from behind.

Your eyes went wide.

“Oh—wait, wait, wait!”

Shoes forgotten entirely, you pivoted on your heel and hurried back down the porch steps, already digging your phone out of your dress pocket. “This is perfect timing! Hold this—please—”

Behind you, Steve barely had time to react before the towel was tossed his way, landing squarely over his head.

“Hey—” he started, but you were already jogging barefoot across the dirt, eyes locked on the breeding chickens.

Your hair breezed through wind and they got a good whiff of the pleasant scent before you ran off. Despite using the same shampoo as them, it smelled surprisingly soft and very feminine. A smell they weren’t used to, but one they’d easily grow fond of.

You slowed as you got closer, steadying your hands, snapping a few quick photos as discreetly as possible, and crouching slightly to keep from startling them. Your lips moved as you narrated under your breath.

“Estrus behavior visible… herd proximity unchanged… minimal disruption…”

Bucky stared after you, incredulous, before letting out a low whistle. He nudged Steve in the arm just as Steve pulled the towel off his face.

“What’d I tell you?” Bucky murmured with a crooked grin. “Barefoot—” he nodded inside the house, still warm and humid from your shower, “—and already keepin’ the house warm.”

“Alright. Enough gawking,” Steve warned, though his eyes were still still fixed on you. “Just ’cause we’ve got a pretty girl livin’ with us now doesn’t mean we don’t have work to do.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that while you stare even harder.”

For the rest of the afternoon, until the sun laid low and the sky began to darken, the two men worked diligently around the farm. And despite Steve’s warnings not to gawk, their eyes found you anyway—again and again.

You crouched near the animals, scribbling notes into your journal, occasionally lifting an expensive-looking camera—one in far better condition than their own damn truck—to snap photos of the cattle. And even after they’d warned you about the fences, you climbed up onto the railings anyway, the wood creaking beneath your toes as you leaned forward, determined to get the perfect shot of the horses.

Wood was getting stacked, hay bales tossed aside, tools scattered and gathered again as needed.

Still, every so often, Steve would glance up from his work to try and look at you, but only to catch Bucky leaning against the farmhouse doorway, eyes trailing shamelessly in your direction.

“Whatcha starin’ at, Buck?” Steve grinned as he tied off a rope around a hay bale.

Bucky didn’t look away from you. His smile softened as he watched the way you held the camera carefully, how your toes balanced on the fence rail, the breeze tugging gently at your hair and dress.

“Just admirin’ the view.”

Steve’s gaze followed his, and he let out a low groan as he stood up. “She’s gonna fall off that fence if she keeps leanin’ over like that.”

“And we’ll be there to catch her,” Bucky replied with a grin, pushing off the doorframe to help with the bales.

You had no idea you were being watched so closely.

Unbeknownst to them, you had been sneaking glances of your own towards the farm. Their white tank tops—streaked with dirt and darkened with sweat—clung to their muscular bodies. Broad arms and strong backs flexed and tensed every time they lifted something heavy. Each hay bale toss came with a grit of teeth, a scrunched brow, and a low, rough groan.

And afterward, they would both exhale deeply, chests rising as they wiped sweat from their foreheads with thick forearms.

They were both strong, capable men—reeking of masculinity, so sure with their hands with what came from years of real work.

Men you’d never meet in the city.

Night had fully settled in now, the sky stretched dark blue and wide, scattered with bright stars. From where you stood, you watched Steve and Bucky just outside the house, pumping water through the pipes as they rinsed off their hands and faces.

Water trickled from their chins, disappearing into the deep lines of their firm chests beneath worn tank tops. They wiped their faces with towels, murmured something to each other—and then both turned your way.

Two sets of eyes found yours that stared at them shamelessly.

You immediately looked down at your camera screen, pretending to be fixated on the chickens you photographed as you tried to play it cool.

Then you heard footsteps, two sets of heavy footsteps treading through the grass and dirt and closer to you.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve approached, crossing his arms while he looked down at you. “We were gonna grab some food in a bit. You hungry?”

“Oh,” you hummed, your stomach already answering with a rumble. “Yeah. I could eat.”

“Every Friday night, the town heads down to the bar,” Steve continued. “More of a saloon, really. Beer, cheap whiskey, food. Sometimes there’s live music if Gary brings his guitar—or the jukebox, if it decides to work.”

“And line dancin’,” Bucky added. “Bad line dancin’.”

“I’m not sure if you have that kind of thing in the city,” Steve went on, resting a hand against the fence as he hovered over you, “but if you wanna tag along for a bite, you’re more than welcome.”

You closed your journal and slipped the camera strap from around your neck, standing with a small groan as you stretched. You were here for research, yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to see what the town had to offer beyond livestock and open fields.

“That sounds fun,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come. I just need to rinse up real quick and I’ll be right out.”

Your gaze dropped to your feet, dirt caked between your toes, bits of grass still clinging to your skin. Then you glanced down at your clothes.

“Is… what I’m wearing okay?” you asked, a little self-conscious as you smoothed the fabric down.

Steve’s eyes dropped before he could stop them, taking in the way the dress fit you—how it followed and hugged your curves, how the neckline framed your chest just right. Realizing how intensely he was staring, he snapped his gaze back up to your face. His jaw tightened as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly, standing up straight. Then he cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s— it’s fine. You’re fine.”

Bucky, on the other hand, took your question as an invitation to check you out shamelessly. His eyes roamed over you—appreciating your chest and legs. Liking what he saw, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, teeth catching it afterward.

“Real pretty, doll,” he said lowly. “Wearin’ a dress like that around here… almost makes me wanna keep you to ourselves.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping the silver moonlight didn’t betray the flush on your cheeks or the way your lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“You two are unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head as you stepped past them towards the house.

Halfway to the porch, you called back over your shoulder, your voice playful. “Do you flirt with every woman who crosses your path, or am I just lucky?”

Bucky’s mouth snapped open—a smart-ass remark already locked and loaded—but Steve cut him off instantly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “Hey now! Don’t look at me. It’s him. He’s the problem.”

The sound of your light, airy laugh drifted back to them—a sound so soft and gentle, it seemed to knock the air right out of their lungs.

“I’ll be back in a minute!” you called with a wave, jogging up the porch steps and disappearing inside.

“Don’t take too long!” Bucky shouted after you. “Or else all the food will be gone by the time we get there.”

As the screen door clicked shut and you vanished from sight, their laughter trailed off. The silence of the countryside came back, broken only by the faint chirps of crickets in the distance.

Steve let out a heavy exhale, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…We gotta get a grip,” he muttered.

“I’m being serious, Stevie,” Bucky said, giving his friend’s arm a sharp nudge.

His flirtatious smirk was gone, now replaced with a protective look that Steve had only seen him give to their horses.

“I mean—look at her. If she shows up at the bar looking like that, every bastard in the county is going to be breathing down her neck.” He crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the door where you had just been.

“…Yeah,” Steve huffed quietly. “I know.” His gaze stayed on the house, tracking your silhouette as it moved past the lit windows.

“Hell, half the men in this town would get worked up just seein’ a lady show a bit of ankle,” Steve added dryly. “I still can’t believe Fury told her to come to this dump.”

Bucky let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Listen to us—soundin’ real territorial all of a sudden.”

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, his palm rasping against his stubble. “It’s just—she’s our responsibility while she’s here. Fury trusted us to look out for her. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah,” Bucky hummed. “That’s all.”

They stood in the yard, watching you move past the glow of the house windows.

In the long silence, they both realized how dead wrong they were. Truthfully, they weren’t all that much better compared to the sleazy, overworked men in town.

When they first laid eyes on you, they immediately wanted to keep you to themselves. And despite only having you here for a couple of hours, they were going to make sure to keep it that way.

Steve started talking lowly to Bucky, quiet enough to make sure you couldn’t hear—even though you were already inside.

“We stick close tonight. No one bothers her. No one gets handsy. And if anyone does—” Steve stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. “—we shut it down. Calmly.” He emphasized.

“Right.” Bucky nodded. “Calmly.”

“That means we don’t start fights, Buck.”

“Hey—I don’t believe in startin’ fights,” he mumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Just… finishin’ ‘em.”

“Alright, enough loitering. Let’s start up Lucy.” Steve slapped a firm hand on Bucky’s back, nudging him towards the truck.

Bucky mumbled grumpily but trailed behind anyway, yanking the hood latch and propping it open while Steve climbed into the driver’s seat. The keys jingled as Steve turned the ignition.

The truck clicked, chugged, whined, and gave them nothing.

He tried again. Another cough, a weak sputter—and then silence.

“… You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve muttered, giving Bucky a flat look through the windshield.

Bucky leaned over the engine bay, bracing one hand on the frame. “Don’t look at me like that. She was runnin’ fine earlier.”

“Well, she’s got real bad timing,” Steve shot back sassily, twisting the key once more, like sheer will might help. The engine answered with a pathetic hiccup and died again. “We can’t invite her out and then tell her the truck’s dead.”

“I didn’t invite her,” Bucky said, poking at a hose. “You did.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

Bucky adjusted a loose wire, fingers blackening with grease. “Try it now.”

Steve turned the key, and still… nothing.

Steve leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling sharply. “Unbelievable. First night she’s here, and we’re about to tell her we can’t even get her into town.”

“Relax,” Bucky said, though his jaw was tight. “Lucy’s temperamental. Always has been.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and bent closer to look inside the engine. “Could be the starter. Or the battery. Or—”

The screen door slammed shut, and both men froze at the sound.

You stepped back out, shoes on this time, hair neatly fixed, looking entirely too put together for a place like this. You jogged towards the truck, a smile already on your face.

“Hey!” you called brightly. “You guys ready?”

Steve’s head snapped up so fast he nearly cracked his neck. Bucky straightened, narrowly missing the hood as he stood.

“Yeah—uh—we’re ready,” Steve said quickly, turning the key again. “C’mon…” he muttered under his breath.

Then the engine finally roared back to life, loud and rumbling, sounding like music to their ears. Both men looked at each other in disbelief.

Bucky slowly lowered the hood and gave it an affectionate pat. “Atta girl,” he murmured. Then he glanced at Steve, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Our good luck charm, ain’t she?”

Steve shook his head, trying to hide his own smile. “Yeah. She is.”

And you couldn’t tell if they were talking about the truck—or you.

Lucy rattled beneath you like she was held together by sheer luck alone.

The ride into town was loud and bumpy, the streets dark and lit only by the truck’s dusty high beams and the occasional window light from passing houses.

The windows were down, warm night air rushing through the cab, drifting in the scent of dust, grass, and something smoky from farther ahead. Steve drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed now that the truck had decided to cooperate, while Bucky leaned back in his seat, elbow hooked out the window.

Town came into view slowly—a handful of buildings clustered under string lights and old streetlamps. It looked far more beautiful than it had in the broad daylight when you first arrived. The bar stood near the center, a squat wooden building with a faded sign swinging above the door. Even before Steve cut the engine, the twang of banjos and guitars met your ears.

“Well,” Steve said, hopping out and extending a hand to help you down. “We made it.”

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the sounds of loud music, laughter, and the smell of cigarettes.

Glasses clinked, boots thudded and scraped against the old floorboards. A few men with weathered faces leaned against the bar with their sleeves rolled up, while a group of elderly women sat at a corner table with playing cards spread out before them. Someone whooped near the jukebox, and a few people were already on the floor, dancing and sweating.

One pair of eyes landed on you, then several.

Soon enough, nearly everyone in the damn bar was staring.

Conversation grew a little quieter. Curious, surprised, and a few openly appreciative glances lingered on you longer than they should’ve. You crossed your arms defensively on instinct, suddenly very aware of yourself.

And both of your boys noticed.

Steve stepped up beside you, resting a protective hand on your lower back that somehow managed to soothe you. Bucky moved to your other side quietly, his broad shoulders subtly boxing you in as he glared at everyone else in the room.

Most of the crowd looked away and returned to their drinks, but the younger men kept their eyes fixed on you.

“Don’t mind them,” Bucky murmured, leaning in so only you could hear. “Town don’t get many new faces. Especially not pretty ones.”

Before you could respond, someone at the bar shouted, “Rogers! Barnes! Thought that was Lucy I heard coughin’ her way into town!”

Steve laughed, lifting his other hand in greeting. “You know she wouldn’t miss a Friday.”

The elderly men at the bar chuckled, and one of them leaned back on his stool to get a better look at you. “Well, don’t just stand there hoggin’ her, Rogers,” he called out. “Come on over and introduce us to your new friend.”

You hesitated, your eyes darting between Steve and Bucky. Despite the protective hand on your back, Steve’s expression remained calm and gentle, clearly intent on not starting any trouble. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to fight anyone who even dared to look your way.

“They’re alright,” Steve reassured you quietly. “Promise. Half the fellas at the bar are married.”

Then a burst of laughter exploded from a table near the back where a group of women sat hunched over cards and half-empty glasses—clearly the wives in question. One of them slapped the table. “That’s because you earned it, Marie!” another shouted back. “Now stop yellin’ and play your damn hand!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Steve gave you a gentle nudge. “C’mon. Let’s say hello.”

They led you toward the bar, Steve’s hand relaxed and guiding at your back while Bucky stalked half a step behind you, mugging everyone who looked your way. The older men adjusted their stools, flashing friendly smiles as they made space for you.

“This is Frank,” Steve said by way of introduction, and you reached out to shake his hand.

“So,” Frank raised a brow, looking between the three of you. “Who’s the young lady?”

You returned his greeting with a polite smile. “I’m a family friend of Fury’s. I’m here for a research project.”

“Ohhh, Fury’s girl?” the bartender whistled, wiping down a glass. “Well, hell—someone warn the whole town not to lay a finger on this one.”

A few men barked a laugh, the scent of beer wafting from their breath, as Frank waved a finger between Bucky and Steve.

“Specially you two,” he said, looking at you. “These guys are the ones causin’ most of the trouble around here. Fury actually trusted you with them?”

“Hey, we’re perfect gentlemen,” Steve countered. “Ain’t that right, Buck?”

“Right,” Bucky muttered, his arms crossed as he glared at someone across the bar. “Gentlemen.”

You shrugged lightly, smiling. “They’ve been nothing but nice. They even fixed up a shed for me to stay in.”

“A shed?” one man barked, spit nearly flying. You took a subtle step back. “Rogers, Barnes—you stick a girl in a shed and call it hospitality?”

“Don’t sully my ma’s house like that,” Steve joked, reaching over the counter to grab himself a beer.

“Y’know, when Sarah was alive, she didn’t call it much of a house, either,” Frank added, stifling his cigarette in the ashtray as a cloud of smoke drifted toward you.

Steve reached over the counter again, this time snagging two more bottles and sliding cash to the bartender with a nod of thanks.

“Alright, alright,” he said good-naturedly. “Before you all start fillin’ our girl’s ears with nonsense, we’re gonna grab a table.”

Bucky tipped his chin to the back corner. “There’s an empty one over there.”

Steve nodded in that direction, gesturing for you to lead the way.

“Oh, so she’s your girl now!” the men teased, their laughter following you. As the three of you walked away, they called out their goodbyes. “It was nice meetin’ you, sweetheart!”

You looked over your shoulder, giving them a quick wave.

“And it was nice talkin’ to you too, Barnes!” Frank shouted sarcastically. Bucky didn’t even look back, simply raising a hand in a dismissive wave as he guided you to the booth.

Bucky stood aside, letting you take the inside seat of the booth. As you slid in, the cushions felt worn and soft—broken in by years of Friday nights exactly like this one. Once you were settled and had set your beer set on the table, Bucky slid in right next to you.

“I’ll grab us somethin’ to eat,” Steve said, standing at the edge of the table and scanning the chalkboard menu. “Place may be small and reeks of cigarettes, but they do grill a mean burger.”

You smiled up at him. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

Steve turned back toward the bar, weaving his way through the crowd. It was just you and Bucky now, surrounded by the loud music and people nearly tripping over themselves. You took it all in with curious eyes while Bucky leaned back against the booth, his arm draped lazily across the top of the seat behind you, beer resting casually in his hand.

“So,” Bucky huffed after taking a sip. “How’re you likin’ the small-town nightlife? Real glitz and glamour out here.”

Your eyes continued scanning the room—the scuffed, dirty floors, the dartboard with three crooked darts still stuck in it, and some burly men arm wrestling in the opposite corner.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed sarcastically. “Definitely glitz and glamour. We do this all the time back in the city.”

“Yeah?” he laughed softly. “Definitely just like the champagne-and-rooftop parties you have every night. Uh-huh, got it.” He smiled at you before taking another swig of his beer.

You watched the lines crinkle attractively at the corners of his tired eyes—evidence of long days and too little rest. His tongue swept across his bottom lip to catch a stray drop, and the simple motion made your stomach flip, your pulse ticking up a notch.

You took a quick sip from your own bottle to hide your reaction, then cleared your throat.

“Anyway,” you started lightly, “what’s with everyone telling me that you two are trouble?”

Bucky let out a playful scoff. “That’s just old-timer slander. We’re model citizens.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Right. So innocent that every person I’ve met has warned me about you two,” you added dryly.

“Absolutely,” he said, lifting his beer in a small toast. “Wouldn’t hurt a damn fly, darlin’.”

“Does that explain why you’ve been scowling at every man in here like you’re ready to fight since we walked through the doors?” you taunted.

He set his beer on the table and leaned in closer; you could catch the scent of it on his breath. “Look around you, sweetheart,” he rasped.

You did. The room was full of weathered faces, grease-stained flannel shirts, and men who had clearly seen better days. Most of the women were gathered at the cards table—all silver hair and loud, gravelly laughter.

“See any other woman as young and beautiful as you?” he asked. His eyes trailed over your face, down to your jawline and your neck while you were too busy scanning the bar to notice. “Stevie and I are just protectin’ you, that’s all.”

Protecting you?

Your face warmed, and the second you turned your gaze back to him, you found he was already watching you, leaning in dangerously close.

“That so?” you asked softly, your eyes searching his.

“That’s so,” he repeated lowly. You watched as his gaze dropped slowly from your eyes to your lips.

In the city, independence was everything; women were expected to take care of themselves. But here, it felt like those modern rules had been stripped away in favor of the old ways. It was traditional—strong, capable men protecting and providing while the women held down the home. It was a lifestyle that didn’t—couldn’t— exist in the city where everyone was always on the clock.

Just then, Steve approached, setting down plates piled with burgers, fries, and ribs. He had a wide grin on his face. “Eat up, princess.”

As you looked at the food and then back at the two of them, you realized that maybe you didn’t mind being taken care of—especially by them.

You all dug in, the smell of grilled meat and greasy fries making your stomach rumble. Bucky took a massive bite of his burger, already smearing sauce across his chin. He glanced over at you, smirking while he chewed.

“Bet you don’t eat this kind of slop back in the city, do ya?” he teased, nodding at your hands as you tried to steady a burger the size of your head. “Probably don’t even know how to eat with your hands.”

You rolled your eyes. “I do know how to eat with my hands,” you said, adjusting your grip. “I’m just eating with manners—something you two should try learning.”

“Hey, don’t be afraid of a little mess,” Bucky said, swiping a finger over a barbecue rib until it was coated in sauce. “That’s part of the fun.”

Steve gave him a disapproving look across the table. “Buck, no—”

But Steve’s warning went in one ear and out the other. Before you could react, Bucky reached over and swiped a thick line of barbecue sauce right over your lips and chin.

“Hey—!” You recoiled, pressing your lips tight to keep his finger from slipping into your mouth. Bucky sat back in his seat, letting out a roar of laughter at your reaction.

“Oh my god, Bucky! You are trouble!”

You reached for a napkin, but Steve snatched it away before you could grab it, snickering along with his friend.

“Steve, you too?!” you frowned dramatically, dropping your burger back onto the plate. You stood up, reaching across the booth to grab it, but Steve held it further back, laughing at your sad attempt. “How could you do this to me? You literally told Bucky no!”

“I know, I know,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “But look at you—you look so damn cute, sweetheart.”

With a groan, you leaned over the table, stretching just far enough to snatch the napkins right out of Steve’s hands. You immediately started dabbing at the mess on your chin.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head playfully. “Nick was right about you two.”

All three of you were still recovering from the laughter when two large shadows fell over the table, blocking the warm overhead light.

“Well, well,” a slurred voice drawled, catching the guys' attention. “Ain’t this a pretty picture.”

Bucky looked up, and it was like a dark cloud loomed over him; his smile was instantly replaced by a hard, dangerous frown. “Get lost, Mike.”

‘Mike’ didn’t even glance at Bucky. Instead, his bleary gaze raked over you, slow and hazy in a way that made your skin prick uncomfortably. You sank back into your seat, subtly trying to hide yourself behind Bucky’s frame.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Mike said, leaning his hands on the edge of the booth, trying to keep himself from toppling over. You could smell the cheap whiskey on his breath from across the table. “Didn’t know Buck was harborin’ such a pretty little secret. Take a look at this prize, Dave.”

His buddy, ‘Dave’, snickered beside him, resting a lazy arm around Mike’s shoulders. “Oh, what a pretty thing you are. City girl, right? You bored with these two yet? You know, we could show you a real good time.”

Steve shot you a careful look. “Just ignore them—”

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” you answered sternly, the words out before you could even register Steve’s warning.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving Mike’s. “I said get lost.”

They ignored him again.

Mike tilted his head at you, a lopsided, ugly smirk on his face as he adjusted his footing, nearly stumbling. “You’re probably gettin’ real tired of being stuck with these two nobodies,” he scoffed. “Why don’tcha hang out with real men like us?”

That was when Bucky’s hand curled into a white-knuckled fist on the table.

Steve reached out, his fingers brushing Bucky’s forearm as a warning. “Buck.” Then, he faced the men, his voice calm and level. “Alright. That’s enough. She’s with us. Go stick with your arm wrestling and leave us be.”

Dave laughed—a mean, loud sound—and reached over to give Bucky a mocking nudge on the shoulder. “Yeah, listen to your boy-toy, Barnes. Like the loyal dog you are.”

Steve’s brow twitched. “What the hell did you just say to him?”

You rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, leaning in with a worried look. “Bucky, I think we should just go—”

But before you could finish the sentence, Steve moved in one quick, explosive motion—his boots hit the floor hard as he lunged out of the booth. A blur of movement followed as his fist cracked straight across Dave’s jaw. The brutal, clean punch of skin-against-skin echoed through the bar, followed by a startled gasps of people who stood nearby.

Mike blinked in shock, watching his friend drop, then let out a roar and swung at Steve. The punch caught Steve high on the cheekbone, snapping his head to the side.

People jumped out of their chairs, wood scraping against floorboards as they shouted and lifted their drinks. “Fight, fight, fight!”

“Jesus Christ!” you gasped, quickly getting up. You nudged Bucky in the shoulder hard. “Bucky, grab Steve and let’s get out of here—!”

But Bucky was already standing, and he had absolutely no intention of ending it.

His blue eyes were filled with fury as he closed the distance to Mike. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, spinning him around just to deliver a devastating blow straight to his face—then another immediately to his gut, sending Mike doubling over.

“Fuckin’ Barnes!” Mike wheezed.

A circle formed around them almost instantly, leaving you trapped inside the booth with no escape. People cheered, laughing and whooping as if this were a Friday night show rather than a real fight.

“Knock ’em silly, Rogers!”

“Your punches are gettin’ sloppy, Barnes!”

Your heart thumped fast in your chest as punches flew in a blur and blood splattered the floor. You twisted in your seat, scanning the room desperately for anyone who might step in—a security guard, a bouncer, any responsible grown-up.

The bartender just threw his head back and laughed, wiping the counter with a rag. “Ah, hell,” he called over the noise, sounding more amused than concerned. “Didn’t think it’d only take two drinks tonight.”

A few men near the bar raised their glasses, toasting to the chaos.

“Hey! Can someone stop them?!” you tried again, but no one heard you. Or, more likely, no one cared.

A couple of the older women at the card table barely glanced up from their game, still laughing among themselves.

“They’ll walk it off,” a guy at a nearby table said casually, taking a slow sip of his beer.

“Barnes always did have a temper,” one of the elderly women added from the card table, her voice sounding almost fond of the memory.

You watched in horror as Bucky and Mike stumbled into a nearby table, knocking it over and sending beers flying as they exchanged heavy blows. Next to them, Steve had Dave in a chokehold while Dave repeatedly drove his elbow into Steve’s gut, making him recoil with every hit.

The bartender noticed you trying to push your way out of the booth, your hands waving in frantic, useless circles as you tried to get him to stop the madness.

“Don’t try to fix it, city girl!” he called out, his booming voice carrying over the crowd. “They’ll be done when they’re done!”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. Just then, the room erupted into cheers as Steve delivered a massive hook to Dave’s jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. Dave groaned, spitting blood onto the floorboards as he tried to push himself back up.

Steve stood over him, chest heaving as he adjusted his stance. “You done?”

Dave wiped his mouth. “Not even close.”

“Good,” Steve huffed, raising his fists again. “I could do this all day.”

Oh.

Despite the panic, a snort escaped you at how ridiculously corny that was. Yet for some reason, the line seemed to amp up the crowd even more—as if he were a pro wrestler and that was his legendary signature catchphrase.

“That’s it, Rogers!”

“Yeah! Show ’em!”

“Knock his teeth out!”

As you looked between the men, your shoulders eased just slightly. You realized Mike and Dave were in far worse condition than Bucky and Steve.

They weren’t losing.

They were in complete control, moving like they’d fought like this a plenty of times before. It was as if this bar floor had been their training ground since they were kids.

With a defeated sigh, you tipped your beer back and took several long swallows, emptying the bottle in one go. The cheap alcohol hit your system, mixing with the leftover adrenaline and replacing your earlier panic with a sudden, sharp spark of excitement.

You slammed the empty bottle down on the table, cupped your hands around your mouth, and shouted over the roar of the crowd.

“Kick his ass, Steve!”

A few heads turned—some giving you surprised glances—while other men cheered along with you.

“Come on, Buck—you can do better than that!” you yelled.

Bucky blinked at you, a surprised smile ghosting over his bloodied face before he used your voice as fuel to keep going.

Steve ducked a sloppy swing from Dave, landing a clean hook that snapped the man’s head to the side. Dave staggered backward, fighting to stay upright as the crowd erupted. Meanwhile, Bucky had Mike pinned against the floor, each punch making the wood rattle and creak.

You watched, breath caught in your throat. You were worried about their safety, but God—they were good at this.

And they looked good doing it.

Their hair was damp with sweat, trailing over their faces as they grunted and delivered heavy blows. You couldn’t help but notice the way their muscles flexed or the way the veins stood out on their large, powerful hands.

The brawl continued until more tables were upended and bottles shattered, glass spraying everywhere as the locals scrambled to avoid the crossfire.

Finally, the bartender slapped his rag onto the counter with a sharp, fed-up sigh.

“Alright! That’s enough!”

Steve grabbed Dave by the shirt, his fist cocked back, while Bucky buried another punch into Mike’s stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. The bartender’s patience finally snapped for good.

“I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!”

The room finally fell quiet.

He jabbed a finger towards the entrance. “Barnes. Rogers. OUT. And take Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum with you before you bleed all over my damn floor.”

By the time you all made it back to the farm, the night air had cooled significantly, the crickets still humming lazily just as they had before you left. Lucy rumbled to a stop, and the three of you climbed out in silence.

As you approached the house, the porch light flickered on with a weak, twitching buzz.

In the dim yellow glow, you finally saw the extent of the damage.

Steve’s cheekbone was already swelling, a dark bruise blooming beneath the skin, while dried blood traced a path from his split lip to his chin. His knuckles were raw and scraped open. Bucky didn’t look much better—one brow was split, a smear of red trailing down his temple, and dust was ground so deeply into his clothes it looked like he’d rolled through every inch of the town’s dirt.

“Well,” Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added, brushing dirt off his shirt like that would somehow fix anything. “Let us know if you need anythin’, doll. We’ll keep the door unlocked for you.”

They both turned to the door, but your voice made them stop.

“No,” you said sternly.

They both looked back, Steve tilting his head in confusion. “No?”

“You guys are not going to bed like that.” You gestured wildly between their bruised faces. “You’re both bleeding. You’re filthy. And—God, both of your knuckles look like ground meat.”

Bucky glanced down at his fists and mumbled, “It’s not that bad…”

“It is,” you insisted.

He shrugged. “Fine. We’ll rinse off with some cold water and soap. Done.”

“Not done,” you corrected sharply. “You’ll wake up with infections and crusted in blood. You guys were rolling all over a floor covered in God-knows-what.”

They exchanged a glance, not really knowing what to say. You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Inside. Now,” you ordered.

Steve opened his mouth, holding up a hand. “Honey, we’re fine. You should get some rest—”

You ignored him, pointing firmly past him toward the house. “Go.”

Inside, you guided them to the kitchen table like scolded schoolboys. Steve sat down, his posture stiff and awkward, while Bucky leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. He was trying to play it cool, though he clearly had no idea what to do with himself.

It had been years since they were in this position—not since they were kids and Steve’s mom was patching them up after a rough day of playing in the dirt and getting into scrapes. Back then, they’d have wide grins on their faces as she kissed their "boo-boos" goodbye.

But now, as grown men with a beautiful woman in their home tending to them, they were both as stiff as a load of bricks.

They watched in silence as you filled a bowl with warm water, found a clean cloth, and grabbed the small first-aid tin they pointed out in one of the cabinents.

You sat down in front of Steve. “Alright,” you murmured, dipping the cloth and wringing it out. “You’re first.”

You pulled your chair closer, tucking yourself between his knees as you gently tilted his face toward the warm overhead light. The bruise across his cheekbone looked even worse up close. When you pressed the damp cloth to his skin, he flinched.

“Sorry,” you whispered, softening your touch.

“S’okay,” he murmured back. “It feels nice.”

Bucky watched from the counter, his jaw clenching. He couldn’t quite place the feeling in his chest; all he knew was that he wanted the same focused attention Steve was getting.

So, when you said, “Bucky, come here. I’ll do you next,” his feet moved without hesitation.

He grabbed a chair and dragged it right up behind you—perhaps a little too close in his eagerness. He settled in as he impatiently waited his turn, sandwiching you between the two of them.

“Both of you,” you said, setting the bowl down and picking up the gauze. “Watch me. That way, when someone’s not here to take care of you, you can take care of each other the next time you get into a bar fight.”

You took Steve’s hand, and he shuddered at the contact. As you carefully wrapped his split knuckles, your fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, making him swallow hard.

You could feel Bucky’s presence right behind you. He leaned over your shoulder, watching your hands work. Seeing how softly you cared for Steve hit him with a deep sense of longing he couldn’t hide anymore. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against your back, his rough hand finding your waist to give it a gentle, needy squeeze.

“I… need attention, too,” Bucky mumbled.

You finished wrapping Steve’s hand, snipping the excess gauze with a pair of scissors. A soft chuckle escaped you at Bucky’s blunt admission.

“Well,” you teased. “Maybe if you two hadn’t started a fight, you wouldn’t be in such desperate need of my attention.”

“We had to defend you, baby,” Bucky sighed. His hands palmed your waist, making you gasp softly.

For Bucky, there was something grounding about your proximity—the way you felt under his hands was relieving for him after the chaos of a long day.

“They were lookin’ at you with bad intentions, sweetheart,” Steve added, leaning in even closer as his eyes bored into yours. “We were just tryna protect you.”

You picked the towel back up, looking deep into Steve’s gaze. He was staring at you so intensely that it made the air feel thin. If you leaned in just an inch further, you could have kissed him.

And judging by the way his gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, he was thinking the exact same thing.

“I’ve been stared at and talked about by plenty of nasty men in the city,” you explained softly, wringing the towel over the bowl. “But not once did anyone defend me the way you two did. You’ve both done so much for me since I got here, and I don’t know how to pay you back.” You lifted the damp cloth. “This is the least I can do.”

“You being here, taking care of us… that’s more than enough,” Bucky rasped.

You turned in your chair to face him, your brow furrowing as you took in his split skin. When you dabbed the towel gently against the cut, he hissed.

“You might need a butterfly bandage for your brow.” You frowned.

Despite the sting, Bucky let out a rough chuckle. “You’re speakin’ a different language, darlin’.”

You rummaged through the tin and, to your surprise, managed to find one. You held up the bandage; it was still in its wrapping, though the edges were a bit frayed.

“How long has this been in here?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. We don’t really use the kit. Not since my ma passed.”

“It should be fine,” you shrugged. “Better than nothing.” Because of Bucky’s height, even with him sitting, you had to stand up to get a clear look at the wound.

“Hold still,” you whispered, reaching out to push a few long, dark locks of hair out of his face.

Bucky’s hands didn’t stay still, they continued to roam around your waist, originally with the intention to steady you as you stood over him, but his touch was growing bolder.

He let out a low shudder as your fingers trailed over his forehead, smoothing his hair out of the way. The sensation of being taken care of by you finally broke through him as his palms slid from your sides toward the small of your back, pulling you just an inch closer.

Bucky looked up at you, his eyes dark and heavy—and it had nothing to do with the exhaustion of the day.

“You feel so warm underneath my hands, baby,” Bucky rasped, his thumbs grazing the hem of your shirt. “I like this sight. You takin’ care of us. Ain’t that right, Stevie?”

You felt the floorboards creak as Steve rose from his chair. A second later, his presence loomed behind you, solid and warm. You were completely trapped between them now—Bucky’s hands at your waist and Steve’s shadow falling over your back.

Steve leaned in, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending a shiver straight down your spine that made your hands tremble as you held the bandage.

“You’re right, Buck,” Steve murmured against the smooth skin of your neck, resting his hands on your hips. “I like this. Very much.”

You stood frozen as Steve’s nose brushed against the sensitive spot behind your ear while Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumbs tracing slow, and smooth circles over your hips.

“You guys…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper—breathless and trembling. You tried to focus on Bucky, your fingers shaking as you finally pressed the butterfly bandage over the split in his brow.

He leaned his face into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a long, heavy exhale.

“Shhh,” Bucky murmured, his voice vibrating. He shifted his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to the palm of your hand. “Just stay here, baby. Let us hold you. We’ve had a long day.”

Behind you, Steve’s hands slid fully around to your front, his large palms splaying across your stomach as he pulled your back against his broad chest. He buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke.

“Buck’s right,” Steve rumbled, his arms acting like a warm, heavy anchor. “Just for a minute. Stay right here.”

The silence of the night outside amplified the low, gravelly tones of their voices. They both spoke as if you weren’t there—or as if you were a prize— talking over and around you while their hands continued their slow, possessive exploration of your body.

“Fuck, she’s so soft, Stevie,” Bucky groaned.

His eyes were still closed, his forehead resting against your stomach as his hands slid lower, his calloused palms molding to the curve of your backside. “I didn’t think skin could be this soft.”

“Smells so good, too,” Steve murmured into your hair, his voice vibrating through your spine. He took a deep, shaky breath as his stubble grazed your neck. “Like vanilla… something sweet.”

Bucky let out a dark, huffed laugh, his grip tightening to let you know he wasn’t letting go. “What’d I say? A pretty girl taking care of us… ain’t this the dream? Makes you wanna keep her all to ourselves.”

Your breath hitched and your gaze dropped, looking down at Bucky as he sat between your legs. Through the thin fabric of your clothes, you could feel the heat of his body, but it was the sight of his heavy denim that made your heart skip a beat.

The friction of your bodies pressed together had clearly taken its toll because a prominent, hard bulge was straining against the fly of his jeans, mere inches from your legs.

Before you could even process the sight, you felt Steve shift behind you. He leaned his weight into your back, his large hands firmly placed on your hips. Then, he gave a subtle and slow rock of his hips, pressing his own growing hardness firmly against you from behind.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Steve whispered against your ear, his deep voice making your legs tremble. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s just… you guys are—” you swallowed nervously, embarrassment rushing to your face. “Hard.”

Bucky chuckled lowly, his hand coming down to palm himself through his jeans.

“Do you want us to stop, baby? We can stop—” he groaned, palming himself even harder as he looked at you with hungry eyes. “We’re good boys. We’ll stop if you want us to. We can behave. Right, Stevie?”

Steve was behind you, getting bolder with his movements as he rocked his hips deeper against the curve of your ass.

“Yes,” he grunted. “We’re good. Very good boys.”

Their hands continued roaming over your body eagerly. Bucky’s breath grew heavier as he touched himself through his pants, and the feel of Steve’s rock-hard erection pressing against you while he planted soft kisses on your neck was enough to make your head spin.

The whole kitchen reeked of lust, like there was spell in the air that only made you want them more and more.

“D-don’t stop,” you breathed, your eyes hazy with desire. “This is the least I can do to pay you guys back, right?”

Steve let out a sharp sigh and Bucky groaned so deeply—it was practically a growl.

Bucky pushed himself off his chair, his movements powerful and sudden as he crowded into your space. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before his mouth crashed onto yours.

His kiss wasn’t gentle or patient; it was hungry and demanding, and you could taste the faint, bitter tang of the beer from earlier. His tongue swept against yours, a low, possessive sound vibrating in his throat as his hands moved from your waist to cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing over your burning cheeks.

Now that Bucky was standing, Steve was able to press even closer, his large body a solid wall of heat against your back. His hands, now wrapped in the gauze from your careful work, slid upward from your hips.

One hand splayed across your stomach, bunching the fabric of your dress beneath his fingers as he pulled you firmly against his hips, rocking into you. Meanwhile, his other hand moved higher, his fingers groping your tits through the thin material.

Steve buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “So good,” he murmured against your skin. “You fit so perfectly between us, sweetheart.”

You were drowning between them—lost in the friction of Bucky’s tongue and the way Steve’s hands explored your curves from behind. Your senses were completely overwhelmed. Every time Bucky tilted your head to deepen the kiss, Steve would find a new patch of skin on your neck to mark with his lips, leaving you gasping into Bucky’s mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Bucky groaned against your lips.

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers locking firmly with yours. He guided your hand down between your bodies, pressing your palm directly over the hard, straining heat of his denim. You could feel him twitch beneath your fingertips.

“Touch us, baby,” Bucky groaned, rocking his hips into your hand, his voice desperate. “Don’t be shy now. You wanted to take care of us, didn’t you?”

The friction of your palm against him made his eyes roll back for a second. Steve let out a low, approving growl against your neck. He reached around, his own hand covering yours, adding his strength to the movement as he pressed your hand even firmer against Bucky.

“That’s it,” Steve encouraged, his breath hitching as he watched your hand work. “Look at how tiny your hand looks against him. You like that, don’t you? Feeling so small and helpless between us?”

Bucky’s head fell back, his jaw tight as he fought for air. “God, Stevie…” he moaned. “Help her—guide her hand against me—fuck, just like that…”

Steve’s hand tightened over yours, his movements guiding the friction of your palm against Bucky’s heat. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear; his voice was a gravelly, commanding rumble.

“Get on your knees and take care of my best friend, would ya?”

“O…okay…”

You sank to the floor, the wood cool and hard against your skin as you settled between Bucky’s boots. He let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately finding your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands to tilt your head back so he could look down at you with raw, uncontrollable hunger.

But you weren’t alone on the floor for long. You felt the floorboards groan as Steve knelt directly behind you, his massive frame shielding you from the rest of the room. His large hands slid under the hem of your dress, gathering the fabric upward until it was bunched around your waist, leaving your skin bare to the kitchen air.

As you reached for Bucky’s belt, your fingers fumbling slightly with the heavy leather, you felt Steve’s hand slide between your thighs. His thumb dragged across your clothed clit with a slow, agonizing pressure that made your back arch and your head drop onto Bucky’s lap.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Steve taunted from behind you with a low, condescending laugh. His other hand came around to cup breasts—teasing your nipple through your dress, holding you steady as his thumb continued to work you. “Take it off him. He’s been waiting all day.”

With a sharp tug, you finally eased Bucky’s jeans down. When he finally sprang free, the sight made the air leave your lungs in a sharp gasp. He was thick and heavy, his skin taut and pulsing with a heat you could feel even before you touched him.

Bucky let out a low groan at the sensation of being exposed, his hands tightening in your hair. He seemed to preen under your shocked gaze, his hips giving a small, instinctive twitch towards your face.

Steve chuckled darkly behind you. His hand was still buried between your thighs, and as his thumb made another slow, heavy pass over you, he felt the sudden, hot gush of moisture through your panties that coated his fingers.

“Fuck, Bucky. Look at that. It’s like she got even wetter just seeing how big you are.”

Bucky reached down, his fingers trembling as he cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Is that right, darlin’?” he chuckled, his thumb catching on your bottom lip. “You like what you see?”

“Think you can fit me in your tiny little mouth, baby?” Bucky challenged. You watched as his cock throbbed, the tip already leaking and eager to be inside your mouth.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t sure if you could; you had spent a handful of nights with men in the city, but none of them were of… this size.

“I don’t know,” you admitted embarrassingly, your hand coming up to circle his shaft. “But I’ll try—”

Growing impatient, he pressed the head of his cock against the seal of your lips, the warmth making your heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” Bucky reassured, breathing hard above you as he began pushing past your lips. “Steve will help you. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You weren’t sure what he meant by having Steve help you, but he didn’t give you much room to think or ask anyway. He probed his length more firmly against your lips, forcing you to open up. You began taking in as much of his thick length as you could manage, your tongue swirling around the broad head as you started to bob your head rhythmically.

“Fuuuuck, that’s it,” Bucky hissed.

His hands stayed firmly anchored in your hair, his knuckles white as he held you in place. Behind you, Steve became even more relentless. You felt his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, tugging them aside until he could slide two fingers deep into your slick heat.

“God—you’re accepting me so easily, baby. Bet you’ve been wantin’ this from the moment we picked you up, huh?” Steve whispered, kissing your ear as he continued to work his fingers inside you.

“Jesus—Steve, I wish you could feel how warm her fuckin’ mouth is,” Bucky moaned, tossing his head back while giving you shallow, sharp thrusts. “This—this is incredible…”

The dual sensation was a sensory overload of pleasure—the feeling of Bucky stretching your mouth while Steve’s fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot with every rhythmic movement of his hand.

“More… more…” Bucky groaned, his voice breaking as he tilted his hips up to meet you halfway. He was desperate, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches.

“You hear that, baby? He wants more,” Steve said.

He wasn’t just watching anymore.

His desire to see his best friend satisfied was overriding his patience.

You let out a small, muffled whimper of protest against Bucky’s shaft, your eyes watering as you reached your limit, but Steve didn’t let you pull away. He placed his large, heavy palm on the back of your head and…

… firmly pushed you down against Bucky’s cock.

Your eyes went wide as you took Bucky deeper than you thought possible, his length hitting the very back of your throat. He let out a sound that was half of a groan and a sob—a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the kitchen. He bucked his hips upward, losing all composure as he finally found the depth he’d been craving.

“Fuck—oh my god,” Bucky gasped, his eyes rolling back. “Just like that—keep her head down, Stevie—shit. Feels too damn good!”

The kitchen was filled with the lewd sounds of his ragged, uncontrolled breathing and the wet slide of your mouth working over him. Steve’s fingers were moving just as frantically inside you now, his rhythm matching the desperate pace of Bucky’s thrusts.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take it all,” Steve growled from behind you. “Keep your eyes open. Look at him. You’ve got him falling apart. Give him everything.”

Bucky’s eyes were blown wide, staring down at you with overwhelming lust.

“Fuck, Steve… she’s perfect. Her mouth—so tight… so warm,” he gasped, his voice cracking. He began to thrust more wildly, his hips snapping forward as he searched for that final bit of release.

“I’m gonna—fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Don’t you dare stop. Steve, hold her head. She’s gonna swallow every drop for me.”

“Do it, Buck,” Steve encouraged, his thumb hitting your clit with a press that sent sparks through your vision. “Fill her mouth up. Show her how much we needed this.”

Bucky finally snapped.

He bucked his hips hard against your face, his entire body shuddering as he began to pulse deep in your mouth. You whimpered, your hands gripping his thighs for balance as you felt the hot, heavy waves of his release hitting the back of your throat, making you choke around his shaft.

“Christ—God, her mouth is so warm… shit, Steve. You hear her chokin’ around me? She can barely swallow it down!”

“She’s fluttering all over my fingers too, Buck,” Steve groaned. “She’s gonna cum—I can feel it.”

Bucky finally pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet, sloppy pop, his release dribbling down your chin as you fought for breath. Your head was dizzy from how brutally he had used your mouth and how deeply Steve was fingering you.

“Steve,” you gasped. “Don’t stop—please. Don’t stop—!”

But Steve didn’t give you the release you were begging for.

He abruptly curled his fingers and pulled them out of you with a sharp, wet sound that left you feeling cold and aching. You let out a cry of frustration, your hips twitching involuntarily to the space where his hand had just been.

Steve stood up, the floorboards creaking under his massive weight. He didn’t look satisfied. If anything, watching Bucky use you had only made him look more predatory. His hands went straight to his belt, the leather creaking as he unbuckled it impatiently.

“You don’t cum until you please the both of us first, darlin’,” Steve commanded.

“Steve, please,” you whined, turning around so that your hands tugged at his jeans. “I was so close.” You looked at Bucky next, frowning. “Bucky?”

“He ain’t gonna help you, baby,” Steve said. “On the table,” he ordered, nodding to the sturdy wooden surface where the medical supplies had been scattered. “Get up there and show us how much you want it. Lay on your back for me.”

Bucky was still catching his breath, leaning against the counter with a dazed, satisfied smirk.

“You heard him, baby,” he rasped, his voice still rough from his climax. “Better be a good girl and please him well.”

With your face burning in embarrassment and two sets of eyes watching your every move, you crawled onto the table, your panties soaked and dripping between your thighs. You slowly settled down on your back, with Steve standing before you and Bucky making his way to the other side.

Steve stepped up, reaching down and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, stripping them down your legs and tossing them onto the kitchen floor.

As soon as you were bare, he stepped into the space between your thighs, the heavy, scorching weight of his cock poking against your entrance. He was even longer than Bucky—not quite as thick, perhaps, but still more than big enough to stretch you to your absolute limit.

“Look at you,” Steve murmured, staring at you with hazy eyes as he stroked his length. “Look how ready you are for me.”

Bucky stepped closer, jeans still around his ankles, as he gripped his own half-hard length. He jerked himself off with slow, heavy pumps, his gaze fixed on Steve as he prepared to take you. With his free hand, Bucky grabbed the hem of your dress and hiked it all the way up to your neck, exposing your breasts to the cool air and their burning gazes.

“So pretty,” Bucky whispered in awe, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He leaned over, his fingers gently playing with your nipples as you whimpered and squirmed on the table, caught between the two of them.

Your heels dug into the wood of the table as you arched your back, the friction of Steve’s heat against your entrance making you whine. You were desperate for the fullness, your body burning with an unfinished ache that Steve was intentionally prolonging.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands reaching out to grab Steve’s muscular forearms. “Steve, please... I need it.”

“Jesus,” Bucky rasped, his eyes dark with a mix of affection and hunger. “She’s so damn cute when she’s begging like this. Make it last, okay? I want to see our girl come apart nice and slow.”

“I’ll try,” Steve managed, his voice strained. He slowly pushed the broad head of his cock past your folds, stretching you open just enough to make you gasp before he pulled back, teasing the very edge of your sanity.

“Steve—please! Stop with the teasing, I can’t—” you begged, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Steve’s jaw clenched tight as he hissed through his teeth. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

Deep down, he wasn’t intentionally trying to tease you. The feel of your wet tightness already clamping down on him made him remember how long it had been since he’d fucked anything other than his own hand.

And it meant that, despite Bucky’s request, he likely wouldn’t be lasting nearly as long as he wanted to.

He slowly pushed in deeper and deeper, each inch making you gasp and arch your back off the table as you tried to adjust to his size.

“F-fuck, Steve!” you moaned.

Finally, he bottomed out completely inside you, his massive weight pressing you down into the sturdy wood of the table. Every time he slammed his hips forward, the medical supplies rattled and the table groaned under the force.

“Fuck, too tight,” he hissed.

His big arms circled your frame, holding you tightly as he began fucking you with a desperate, frantic hunger.

“God, you’re so tight,” Steve repeated, “so fucking warm.”

Bucky was right there, leaning over the side of the table to catch every detail. The sight of Steve losing his usual composure—seeing his best friend’s broad back muscles tensing and rippling as he drove into you—had Bucky’s cock snapping back to full attention for a second round.

He jerked himself off faster, his eyes darting between your flushed face and the place where Steve was disappearing inside you.

“Tell me how tight she is, Steve,” Bucky urged.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Buck,” Steve groaned. “She’s squeezin’ me so good—it’s just like you said… a nice, smooth pair of legs wrapped tight around my waist. Fuck—it’s going to be so hard to pull out.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened at Steve’s words, the blue turning to a stormy midnight black. His cock was twitching and pulsing in his hand, slick with his own pre-cum and the lingering wetness from your mouth as he watched Steve’s massive body hammer into yours.

“Pump her full, Steve,” Bucky growled. “Breed her. Fill her up so damn deep she can’t think about anything or anyone else—until she thinks only about us.”

“B-breed…?” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back.

Your head spun at the words. The thought of Steve’s cum filling you— of that thick, heavy seed flooding your core while Bucky watched—sent a violent jolt of overwhelming pleasure through your body.

You felt your walls contract, clamping down on Steve’s length—milking him so hard that it made him choke on his own breath.

“B-Buck…” Steve gasped, his pace becoming erratic. He was losing the fight for control. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he felt your climax beginning to roll over him. “She’s so close… God, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside her,” Bucky urged, leaning in close until his breath hitched against your ear. “Fill her up and make her our girl, Stevie. Pump her so full she’ll never want anyone else.”

The command from Bucky was the final blow to Steve’s restraint.

With a low, hungry roar that vibrated against your chest, Steve bucked. He rocked his hips into you one last time, pinning you to the table with his full weight as he bottomed out.

“Christ, take it, sweetheart! Oh—fuck, take it—”

His body went rigid as he began to pour himself into you. You felt the hot, thick jets of his release hit the very back of your womb. It felt like he was never going to stop—years of pent-up sexual frustration finally rearing its head.

Your mind fractured. The internal pressure of him, combined with the mental image of being bred, sent you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Steve! I’m—I’m gonna cum—!” you screamed into the crook of his neck, your walls seizing and pulsing in a violent, uneven rhythm that milked him for every last drop.

“Fuck—yes—take it all, baby,” Steve groaned, his voice jagged as he shuddered against you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder.

Bucky stood before you, panting as he watched the liquid evidence of Steve’s climax begin to seep out and coat your thighs. Seeing you stretched and filled by his best friend was too much; with his own cock already hard again, he was more than ready for round two.

And this time, he wanted to be the one inside.

Steve slowly pulled out of you, the sound of the wet, suctioning release loud against the heavy breathing between the three of you. You let out a broken gasp, your body feeling hollow and sensitive as the cool air hit where his heat had just been. A thick trail of his release began to spill over your thighs, coating the wooden table beneath you.

Steve leaned down, his eyes a bit softer than they were before, reaching out to hook his arms under yours to help you up. “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned—”

“Move aside, Steve.”

Bucky’s voice was like a whip crack.

He stomped over, his boots heavy on the floor, and physically brushed Steve’s hands away from you. There was no gentleness left in him now; his jaw was set, and his eyes were fixed on the mess Steve had left behind.

“Bucky?” you asked softly, trying to catch your breath. “Are you okay—?”

“I’m not done with her,” Bucky growled.

Before you could reply, he grabbed your hips and flipped you over. Your face was pressed down into the hard, cool wood of the table, your cheek flat against the surface as he forced your ass up high.

“B-Buck—!”

Without warning, Bucky lined himself up against your puffy slit, and in one aggressive motion, he buried himself deep in your overstimulated heat. You let out a muffled shriek against the table as he began to fuck you doggy-style, one hand pinning your head down while his other gripped your waist tightly.

“Fuck!” Bucky barked, biting his lip. “She is tight, Steve. Fuckin’ hell… like a tight, warm and wet fist wrapped around my cock.”

“Bucky—haaah, I… It’s too much—fuck—oh!”

The friction was almost too much to bear. You were a babbling, overstimulated mess, your voice reduced to broken sobs and incoherent pleas against the wood of the table.

With every heavy, bottoming-out thrust, you could feel Bucky physically pushing Steve’s cum deeper into your core. It was a strange, overwhelming sensation—the feeling of being claimed by one man while the other’s mark was forced even further inside you.

Steve stood by the side of the table, his chest still heaving as he watched. He looked genuinely surprised, a small, breathless huff of laughter escaping him as he watched Bucky go to work. “Christ, Buck... you're still going? Fuck. You’re ruinin’ her.”

Bucky only grunted like an animal in response as he gripped your waist tighter, rocking his hips even harder.

You were a drooling, slutty mess on the table, and the pathetic sight made Steve smile softly at you in sympathy. He reached out, his large hand stroking your sweat-dampened hair away from your face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple while Bucky hammered into your hips from behind.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, his voice a soothing balm against Bucky’s relentless pace. “Just let him in, darlin’. Such a good girl, taking him so deep for us. Just breathe through it for me.”

“Stevie,” you whined, your voice pitching higher. “He’s so th—thick… he’s stretching me so much…”

“I know, baby,” Steve murmured. You weren’t sure if his words were meant to soothe you, but his tone was shifting, becoming almost condescending—as if your overstimulated state was exactly where he wanted you.

He watched with a possessive sheen in his eyes as Bucky’s hips continued to batter against you. “Cum inside her, Bucky. Fill her up.”

Bucky let out a ragged, disbelieving laugh between the loud creaks of the table. “Shit, Stevie… you want me to knock her up too?”

Steve just kept stroking your hair, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear. “It’s just like you said—a pretty girl like her staying home and takin’ care of us. Don’t you want that, Buck? To see her round, glowin’, and barefoot? Somethin’ about keepin’ the house warm?”

The rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts faltered for a split second before becoming twice as violent. A low, needy sound escaped him.

“Fuck… I want that so bad. More than anythin’. Shit.”

Bucky leaned down, his chest crushing against your back, his voice sending tingles down your spine. “I’m going to breed her. She’s stayin’ here with us, Stevie. We’re makin’ her ours for good.”

The thought should’ve terrified you, but as you lay there pinned between them, lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated lust, the idea only turned you on even more. Your only concern now was whether you could even contain Bucky’s release inside you.

“I—I don’t think I can,” you babbled against the table, your words slipping out between broken gasps. “…take it… take Bucky’s cum… I—”

Steve didn’t let your panic spiral. He leaned down further, his large, warm hand moving from your hair to cup your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head so he could look you in the eye.

“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” Steve cooed. “You’re made for this. You’re made for us. Just relax those pretty muscles and let him in.”

He then pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his thumb stroking your cheekbone even as Bucky’s pace turned frantic.

“Look at her, Buck,” Steve whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “She’s worried she can’t hold it all. Tell her what you’re gonna do.”

Bucky let out a choked, desperate sound, his fingers digging into your hips. “I’m gonna fill her to the brim,” he rasped, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fill her so full she’ll leak all over the table.”

Another needy moan tore from his chest. “G-gonna knock her up until there’s—fuck— atleast one brunette and one blonde baby runnin’ around the house, Stevie.”

At Bucky’s nasty words, your walls spasmed, clenching around him as your second orgasm finally shattered. You let out a high, broken cry against the table, your vision sparking white as you came right along with him—completely spent, completely undone.

With a final, sloppy, and shaky thrust, Bucky fucked into you one last time. He groaned your name as his body locked up. You felt the first hot stream of his release hit you, and your eyes went wide as he began to pump himself empty.

He held you pinned to the table, his weight crushing you down, ensuring that every drop of his heat was forced deep into the space Steve had already claimed. “Yes, yes—that’s it…!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve praised, his voice thick with pride. He watched the way your body jolted with every pulse of Bucky’s climax. “Takin’ it all, keepin’ it all inside for us. Such a good, fertile little thing.”

Bucky stayed heavy against you for a long time, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

Slowly, he eventually began to pull out. You let out a small, needy whimper at the loss of his heat, your body feeling heavy and thoroughly used. A thick, creamy mixture of both men began to spill out of you, making a mess of your inner thighs and dripping onto the dark wood of the table. He hooked his arm under your waist and gently pulled you back against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

“Look at that,” Bucky rasped, his voice rough with post-coital bliss as he looked down at the mess they had made of you. He pressed a firm, possessive kiss to the top of your head. “You’re ours now, pretty girl. Every inch of you.”

Steve moved in from the side, his expression soft as he watched the two of you. He leaned down and wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Our best girl,” Steve echoed softly, his large hand coming to rest over your stomach, splaying wide and possessive.

“We’re gonna take such good care of you. You’re never going anywhere else.”

I am so sorry about the massive wordcount. I got carried away at the end w/ all of the smut 🚬 anyways, credits to @earthsmightiestbenders for helping me come up with this massive filth of a line:

“G-gonna knock her up until there’s—fuck— atleast one brunette and one blonde baby runnin’ around the house, Stevie.”

Steve threw the last log onto the flatbed of the good ol’ truck, a thing that had seen more rust than oil changes in its life.

“That should be the last of it,” he announced from the back, closing the tailgate and giving it a solid slap to make sure it held. “Start her up, Buck.”

Bucky turned back to the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. The truck answered with a loud rumble before sputtering out. He tried again, resulting in another shake that rattled the cab, and then… nothing.

Steve came up to the driver’s window, resting an arm on the sill as he wiped sweat from his face with a dirty towel.

“Lucy’s not startin’?”

“Does she ever?” Bucky sneered, turning the key once more as the truck grumbled in protest. “I thought you were supposed to look her over last night.”

“I was—then I got a call to round up some loose, wild chickens. After that I got sidetracked, and, uh…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, guilty. “I fell asleep.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”

“Hey,” Steve said, nudging his shoulder roughly through the window. “While I was being productive last night, maybe you could’ve spent that time fixing her up instead of jerking off.”

Bucky shoved the door open without warning, forcing Steve to stumble aside. He gave him a sharp side-eye glare.

“I was not jerking off,” he muttered, heading for the front of the truck and popping the hood to peer into the engine.

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped up beside him, clamping a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You keep tellin’ yourself that. The walls are paper thin, you know?”

“Shut up,” Bucky mumbled with a flushed face. He reached down, jiggled the loose battery cable, then tightened the clamp with a huff.

“All right,” he said, wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. “Try it now.”

“You sure that’ll—”

“Just get in the damn truck, Steve.”

With a shrug, Steve climbed back into the cab and turned the key. The engine coughed in front of Bucky, then rumbled to life, making the whole truck shaky but steadily idle.

Steve grinned out the open window. “Well, would you look at that. It’s our lucky day.”

“And we don’t get much of those,” Bucky agreed, not wasting a second as he slammed the hood shut and jogged around to the passenger side, yanking the door open.

“Don’t admire her too much now,” he warned, climbing in. “Start drivin’ before it gives out and we have to push this damn thing ourselves again.”

The truck rattled its way down the dirt road, tires crunching over gravel as the town came into view—if you could even call it that. The ‘town’ had a handful of weather-beaten buildings, a leaning water tower, and more livestock than people. Chickens scattered as Steve eased off the gas, the engine making a suspiciously loud noise that couldn’t even be ignored if they turned the radio up higher.

Fury’s place sat at the center of it all. A squat, sturdy building that had once been a general store several years ago, then a post office, and now served as whatever the town needed it to be. Meetings, supplies, paperwork.

Basically, everything important that no one else wanted to deal with.

A faded sign out front still read “COMMUNITY OFFICE,” though half the letters were missing.

“Made it,” Steve said, turning the engine off as he glanced at Bucky with a smile. “Told you Lucy had one more trip in her.”

“One,” Bucky huffed, hopping out. “Don’t get greedy.”

They climbed onto the flatbed and started unloading, tossing logs into a neat pile beside the building. The door creaked open halfway through, and Fury stepped out, cane in one hand. His good eye flicked over the truck, the wood, then the two of them.

“You’re late,” he said calmly.

Steve lifted his head as he tossed another log. “Truck trouble.”

Fury snorted. “That truck is trouble.” He eyed the woodpile with approval, though. “Still—this’ll last us through winter if rationed right. The town owes you.”

Bucky threw another log. “Town’s been owing us a while.”

Fury shifted his weight, tapping the end of his cane against one of the logs. “When you’re done,” he said, already turning back toward the door, “I’m gonna need you boys to come inside and sign the delivery papers. Wood tally, fuel credit, the usual nonsense.”

They both gave each other a look. Anything involving paperwork, pencils, and pens was well outside their familiar territory. Their comfort zone was muscles, strength, and work done with their bare hands.

The boys were… really good with their hands.

They finished stacking the last of the logs in relative silence, the only sounds being the dull thud of wood and the distant lowing of cattle.

Steve hopped down from the flatbed and dusted off his hands. “You ready, Buck?”

“Ready to skim the papers and not read a word of it?” Bucky wiped his hands on the dirty towel before tossing it through the open passenger window. “Sure.”

Inside, the building was way cooler, the air was filled with the smell of old paper, dust, and faint bitter coffee. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with binders, ledgers, and boxes labeled in Fury’s neat handwriting. A single desk sat near the back, buried under forms.

The two men lingered by the front door, leaving a trail of dirt and mud beneath their boots as their eyes adjusted from the harsh sunlight to the dim interior.

“Come here, boys,” Fury called, circling around his desk.

Steve stepped forward—but Bucky stopped short, his attention snagging on something off to the side of the office.

“Uh,” Bucky raised a finger to point, not even trying to hide it. “Who the hell is that? She lost?”

There you sat, prim and composed, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper folded neatly in your hands. Your clothes were clean, your shoes never touched by dirt, and the two suitcases at your feet looked like they cost more than what Steve and Bucky made in a day.

You looked like you had stepped off the wrong bus, yet decided to stay anyway.

Steve turned at Bucky’s voice, nearly breaking his neck to get a better look. His gaze trailed from your face down to your legs, the way you subtly bounced your foot as you were absorbed in whatever dull headline held your attention.

Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and Bucky’s breath hitched.

“Damn…” he muttered.

“No.” Fury emerged from behind the desk, glancing between the three of you. “She’s right where she’s supposed to be.”

You finally looked up when Fury tapped the side of your bench with his cane. Lifting your head, you pulled the earbud from your ear.

“Nick?”

“These are Rogers and Barnes,” Fury said. “They run the livestock operations on the outskirts.” Then he turned back to the two men. “And this is—” he paused, nodding to you, “—a family friend from the city, a couple hours away. She’s here for a research project.”

Steve stepped closer, raising a brow. “Research?”

You folded the newspaper and tucked it under your arm before standing. “Animal productivity,” you explained. “Sustainability in isolated farming communities. Breeding patterns, yield consistency, that sort of thing.”

Both of the boys tilted their head in sync, and Fury shook his own, looking at you. “You’re speaking a whole different language to these cave animals.”

Bucky crossed his arms, ignoring the jab. “And you picked this place?”

“I insisted she come here,” Fury said, raising a brow at him. “Why are you making it sound like this place is bad?”

Steve shrugged. “Well—”

“Don’t answer that,” Fury cut in with a sigh, waving a hand as he turned back to his desk. “Sign these. And once you’re done—” his gaze flicked to your suitcases, “—help her get settled in the farmhouse out back.”

“The farmhouse?” Bucky met Fury at the desk, planting both hands on the edge as he leaned over him. “You’re not stickin’ a girl like that in some dirty farmhouse, Fury.”

It seemed like every farmer you’d met so far was loud and painfully straightforward. You glanced down at yourself—your clothes, so different from the muted dresses the handful of elderly women wore around town. Since stepping off the bus, you’d been surrounded by the smell of manure, too much testosterone, and a growing sense of self-consciousness.

Fury looked up at Bucky with his good eye. “I already told her about our very limited lodging options.” He turned to you for backup. “And she was okay with it. Right?”

You were not okay with it.

You were used to a queen-sized bed in your comfortable city apartment, right in the heart of everything. Not a farmhouse.

“Yup,” you said anyway, forcing a nod and a smile.

For research. Right?

Bucky scoffed and clamped a hand down on Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer hard enough that Steve nearly stumbled.

“You know, We’ve got Sarah’s old house right next to our farm—the one that’s been collectin’ dust,” Bucky said, giving Steve a firm slap on the back to rope him in. “What do you say, Stevie? Take us a few hours to clean it up, pull the mattress outta the closet, get it all nice and tidy for our little friend here.”

All three men turned to look at you, and you suddenly felt very small beneath their attention—especially under Steve and Bucky’s eyes.

“I… wouldn’t want to intrude,” you said gently, scratching at your temple. “I’m not sure how Sarah would feel if I just moved in—”

“Sarah—God rest her—wouldn’t want an impressionable young woman like you sleepin’ in a cold, dirty farmhouse,” Bucky cut in, flashing Steve a grin.

Steve let out a slow, patient breath through his nose. “I suppose you’re right. My mother wouldn’t want that.”

Bucky turned back to you, a charming smile tugging at his mouth. “How about it, pretty girl?”

You glanced at Fury, searching his face. He was the only person you trusted here, and as long as he trusted them, that would have to be enough.

Fury let out a quiet, weary sigh and gave you a small shrug. “They look like troublemakers,” he said, “but they’re the ones keeping this town running.”

He pointed at Steve while looking at you. “You can trust this one.” Then his finger moved slowly to Bucky. “But be careful with this one.”

“Hah. Hah,” Bucky replied dryly as he crossed the room, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his heavy boots. He bent down, grabbed one of your suitcases, and tossed it toward Steve, who barely caught it off guard.

Bucky picked up the other bag and flashed you a smile.

“Our truck’s right outside. Come on.”

With one strong hand gripping the strap of your suitcase, his other hand—surprisingly respectful—settled at your lower back as he guided you towards the front door.

On the way out, he gave Steve a look, nodding once to signal him to follow.

“You two better take good care of her,” Fury called after them. “She’s a family friend. Remember that.”

Steve paused, glancing back at Fury with a sigh.

“Yeah, noted,” he muttered as he stepped outside with the luggage, following you and Bucky.

Fury waved you off, then turned back to the desk, eyeing the untouched stack of paperwork still waiting for signatures.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered.

Outside, Steve and Bucky tossed the luggage into the flatbed haphazardly. The heavy thud of your expensive bags made you flinch, especially knowing your laptop and notebooks were inside.

Bucky swung the passenger door open wide and motioned you over with a hand. “Come on in,” he said. “Lucy don’t bite.”

“Lucy?” you huffed a small laugh, hesitating as you stepped closer. Leaning inside, you saw the floorboards caked with dirt and mud; one step in and your shoes would be ruined in an instant. “Uh, I don’t think there’s room for me—”

“Sure there is,” Bucky interrupted.

Without warning, his rough hands found your hips and lifted you easily, setting you down on the passenger seat. “Scoot over,” he said. “You’re gonna have to be the middle man.”

Before you could even say anything, Bucky planted one heavy boot inside the cab and hopped inside, rocking the truck and forcing you to scramble over as he slammed the door shut. You barely had time to find your balance before Steve opened the driver’s door and climbed in, settling behind the wheel with a huff.

Now, you found yourself wedged between two broad, very dirty men who smelt like sweat and sun.

And suddenly, the cab felt very, very warm.

“Let’s see if she’ll turn,” Steve muttered, twisting the key in the ignition.

“What do you mean, let’s see?” you asked warily, tugging at the collar of your shirt. “And does this thing have air-conditioning?”

Steve pressed his lips together. “Air-conditioning would be the very thing that puts Lucy in the ground.” He tried again—the engine sputtered, then died. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but… she should come around.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on your hands folded in your lap, realizing what you had gotten yourself into. You were in the middle of pretty much nowhere, with spotty service, no sleep, wedged into a truck with two men you had never even met, headed for a house where who knew what kind of bugs were waiting for you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, voice shaky.

Steve glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Hey—don’t panic. She’ll start. Just gotta—” he turned the key again, then once more. The engine finally roared to life, rattling violently as the truck shook beneath you.

“There we go.”

Bucky rested his arm out the window, flashing Steve a grin over your head. “Our lucky day, you said?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tugged into a smirk as he shifted into drive. “Don’t get greedy.”

As Steve pulled onto the road, the truck rattled and shook over every rock and rut. You reached for the seatbelt, tugging at it, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Seatbelts don’t work, sweetheart,” Steve said, glancing over at you with a reassuring smile before returning his focus to the road. “Just try to hold on tight.”

That did very little to calm you.

That was a safety hazard and straight up illegal.

You pressed your palms flat against your thighs, shoulders rigid. Your eyes switched between the flaws of the old truck— to the web of cracks in the window, to the dust on the dash—and the unfamiliar stretch of land rolling past. The farther you got from town, the quieter it became. Fewer houses, fewer people—just fields and fences stretching on forever.

Bucky could feel how tense you were from the faint brush of your shoulder against his.

“You alright?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. “You look like you’re thinkin’ about jumpin’ out and runnin’.”

You looked up at him and forced a laugh, though it came out thin and brittle. “I’m fine. Just… adjusting, I think.”

“A lot different than city life, huh?” Steve asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “This is… very different.”

“Well,” Steve said, resting one hand on the window sill and the other on the wheel, “since we’ve got a bit of a drive, why don’t you tell us more about this research project of yours?”

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “You studyin’ cows or somethin’?”

“Not just cows,” you said. “Basically, when communities are geographically isolated, access to veterinary care, supplemental feed, and modern equipment becomes limited. That can unintentionally alter breeding cycles. Livestock may breed earlier or later in the season, fertility rates can fluctuate, and stress levels directly affect overall yield.”

Bucky scratched at his chin, letting out a thoughtful hum. “Breeding…”

Steve glared at him over your head.

You just kept going, oblivious as your hands lifted slightly as you explained, slipping deeper into familiar academic territory.

“I’m also comparing seasonal fertility rates,” you said. “In places like this, breeding windows tend to be less controlled, which can lead to overlap between generations. That affects herd structure, genetic diversity, and long-term productivity.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes still on the road ahead. “Uncontrolled breedin’, huh.”

“Buck,” Steve warned.

“What? I’m not doin’ anything.”

You glanced between them, finally catching the smirk tugging at Bucky’s mouth as he fought back a laugh and the disapproving look on Steve’s face, despite the smile he was clearly trying to hide by staring out the window.

For fuck’s sake.

You were realizing now that Dirty Man One and Dirty Man Two were trying to crack inappropriate sex jokes.

“Jesus,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “You men are disgusting.”

“Hey! Don’t lump me in with him,” Steve said quickly. “I’m the one tryin’ to get him to settle down.”

The rest of the drive was surprisingly pleasant. Both of them asked about your school and your research, and every time you answered in more detail, you noticed their slightly dazed and confused expressions. Steve tended to ask the more in-depth questions, genuinely curious, while Bucky nodded along like he understood every word.

The truck bounced and swayed over ruts, rocks, and packed dirt as Steve turned into a long, wide driveway. Ahead stood a large farmhouse, with a smaller cabin-like building off to the side.

Farther to the left sat another structure.

A very, very small one.

Too small to be a house, but just big enough to be a storage shed.

“Here we are,” Steve announced as the truck rumbled to a stop and the engine cut out.

You raised a finger, pointing to the small shed. “Is that—”

Before you could finish the question, both men opened their doors and hopped out of the truck without a word. They grabbed your luggage—now smudged with grime and dirt—and started carrying it to the shed.

You scrambled out of the truck, nearly stumbling as your feet hit the ground, and hurried after them.

“Wait—hey!” you called, jogging to keep up as they headed straight for the shed. “T-that’s not where I’m staying, is it?”

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, adjusting his grip on one of your suitcases. “That little building over there? Yeah. That’s it.”

Steve slowed a little, giving you a little apologetic look as you caught up. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he promised. “My mom used it as a guest place for a bit. Solid roof, no leaks—”

“And a whole lot better than the farmhouse Fury was gonna stick you in,” Bucky added.

You looked at the structure again as you walked —weathered wood, a single small window, and a door that had clearly seen better decades. Your pace faltered.

“Guys,” you said flatly. “That is a shed.”

Bucky stopped in front of it and set the luggage down, turning to face you with a grin.

“Technically,” he said, “it’s a converted shed.” He lifted a hand just in time to catch the key Steve tossed his way.

“We fixed it up, mostly.” Steve looked down at your expression, the way your teeth caught your bottom lip and the weary, beady eyes you’ve been wearing ever since they picked you up in their truck.

Without thinking, he rested a protective hand at your back, drawing your attention.

“I know this is different from the city life you’re used to,” he said gently. “But I promise, it just needs a few touch-ups. You’ll get comfortable in no time.”

The way Steve looked at you eased the tension in your chest. His smile was warm, his voice patient and kind. And if Fury said this was the one you could trust, then so be it.

“Thank you, Steve.”

The other one, on the other hand…

Bucky unlocked the door with a huff. Dust immediately billowed out, making him cough as he waved a hand in front of his face. He glanced back at you and Steve.

“Oh, by the way,” he said. “There’s no bathroom in here.”

Perfect.

Bucky nudged the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside, his heavy work boots creaking against the frail wooden floorboards. Steve followed, setting your luggage just inside the doorway.

You hesitated at the doorframe before stepping in after them.

The place was ridiculously tiny. One narrow room with a low ceiling, a single window coated in dust, furniture and cabinets that looked like it could barely hold up. It smelled like old wood, hay, oil and something faintly metallic—you didn’t know what.

Back in the city, you had white walls, clean linens, and the oddly relaxing hum of traffic outside your window. Here, you had stained wallpaper peeling at the edges and bawking chickens.

For your research project, you reminded yourself. You chose this.

Bucky looked around with his hands on his hips. “It’s small,” he said thoughtfully, “but I think it’s the perfect size for a girl like you.”

He smiled, and you weren’t entirely sure how you were supposed to take that.

When he noticed your silence, the smile slipped just a bit. “You okay?”

You snapped out of it, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah, I just…” You exhaled, rubbing your arms. “I think I really need a shower. If that’s—uh—even possible.”

“Oh,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Sure. But you’re not doin’ that here.”

You gave Steve a look, almost like a silent plea for backup, but he only shrugged in response as Bucky continued, smirk firmly in place.

“C’mon. Our place is right next door. Real bathroom. Hot water.”

You shifted on your feet, eyeing them both suspiciously. “And the door,” you asked carefully, “it locks?”

The two men exchanged a silent look, and immediately, you regretted asking. Here they were—offering you a ride, a place to stay they’d fix up just for you, even letting you use their shower—and you’d gone and asked if the lock worked, as if you were accusing them of being some kind of creeps.

But then they blinked at each other and burst into laughter.

Bucky let out a sharp bark, shaking his head. “Yeah,” he grinned. “It locks.”

Steve wiped at his face, trying to rein it in. “You know, you’ve got men out here showerin’ in their front lawns with a bucket of water and a bar of soap,” he added. “But I get it. Can’t blame you for askin’. City instincts.”

Your face immediately burned with embarassment. You’ve delt with your fair share of annoying men in the city, but it was something about being surrounded by farmer men that made the teasing feel ten times more insufferating.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “Very funny.”

Still smiling, Steve wiped at the corner of his eye and motioned toward the door. “Come on. Follow us—we’ll show you where you can wash up.”

After you quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes out of your luggage, they led the way across the yard, Steve out front and Bucky hanging back just enough to make sure you were keeping up. The dirt path had been worn smooth by years of boots and tires, and on either side of it the farm stretched out in every direction.

Cows clustered near the fence line, tails swishing lazily. A pair of horses lifted their heads as you passed, ears flicking toward you with mild curiosity. Chickens roamed freely, darting around your feet like they owned the place. Everything felt alive— busy and loud in ways that reminded you of the city, though it couldn’t have been more different.

The farm loomed closer as you approached—big, solid, and weathered, with hay bales stacked nearby and buckets of feed scattered around the yard.

Walking past, you reached the house itself. It was a small, one-story, cabin-like structure built from dark wood. The door creaked as Steve pushed it open, and the scent inside was a stark contrast to the earthy, animal smells outside.

From the doorway, you could smell the soap, clean laundry, and coffee. You were met with heavy wooden furniture. Worn floors. Tools leaned neatly against one wall. A pair of muddy boots sat by the door.

Very manly was the only way you could describe it.

Steve stepped aside to let you in. “Watch your step.”

As you stepped in, dodging the muddy boots, the house felt sturdy and lived-in. Not polished, but definitely cared for.

Bucky shut the door behind you with his heel and jerked his head down the narrow hallway. “Bathroom’s this way.”

You followed, your gaze drifting over the details as you walked by. Family photos tacked messily to the wall—they didn’t look alike at all, had different lastnames, so siblings seemed unlikely, yet there were dozens of pictures of them together from childhood. A calendar hung nearby, crowded with notes about feed deliveries and vet visits, all scrawled in incomprehensible, sloppy boy handwriting.

Bucky paused and pointed at one of the photos—a younger version of him and Steve standing side by side with crooked smiles.

“Handsome, ain’t he?” he asked, tapping at himself.

You couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve seen better.”

Steve snorted while Bucky rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. He stopped at the last door and pushed it open with his knuckle.

“Here we go.”

The bathroom was small but clean. White tile lined the walls, a deep tub sat beneath a real showerhead, and shelves held neatly folded towels alongside mismatched bottles of soap. A narrow window above the sink let in a stripe of late-afternoon light, dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

“Hot water takes a minute,” Bucky said, leaning against the wall. “Gotta let it run first.”

You looked between the two men, clutching your folded clothes to your chest. “Thank you—both of you. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said with a casual wave of his hand. “A friend of Fury’s is a friend of ours.”

Bucky pushed himself off the wall and stepped aside, giving you room to enter. “Steve and I will clean up the shed while you’re in here. By the time you’re done, it should be ready with the mattress and all.”

Your smile softened as you glanced at him. “You guys are great. Seriously, I couldn’t be—”

“Just make sure you shout us out in that research paper,” Bucky cut in with a grin, resting his hand on the doorknob. “And don’t forget to let the water run. Enjoy your shower, pretty girl.”

The door shut softly behind you.

And on the other side, Steve immediately whacked the back of Bucky’s head.

“Pretty girl? Pretty girl?” Steve whisper-yelled. “Are you kidding me?”

Bucky winced, rubbing the back of his head as they headed down the hall towards the front door. “What? She is pretty, Steve. And don’t act like you’re any better. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?”

“I’m trying to be respectful, Buck,” Steve sighed as he pushed the front door open.

“And I was being respectful,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “You know how rare it is for a beautfiul woman like that to be around here. Gotta make a good first impression.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Get your head out of your ass. A girl like that would want nothing to do with dirty men like us.”

“Oh—come on, Steve,” Bucky whined, following after him like a bug in the air, “why you gotta be so hopeless, man?”

“Not hopeless,” Steve corrected, pushing the shed door open. “Realistic.”

Bucky scoffed as he followed him inside, heading straight for the closet. He hauled out the folded air mattress and the old hand pump, dropping them onto the floor. “Yeah, yeah. Still—doesn’t hurt to imagine, you know?”

Steve grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner and started clearing dust and debris. “Imagine what, exactly?”

Bucky grinned, eyes drifting back to the window that faced the house for a second before he caught himself.

“I dunno. Coming home after a long day, boots covered in dirt, back sore as hell—and there she is. Clean, soft, talkin’ about all that smart stuff she knows. Maybe dinner’s on the stove, or she’s sittin’ at the front there with a book, lookin’ all pretty.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Have not,” Bucky said, laying the mattress out where Steve had just swept and starting to pump air into it. “Tell me you wouldn’t want that—a gorgeous girl like that walkin’ around the house, keepin’ it warm and cozy—barefoot and all.”

Steve went quiet as he lifted an old bed frame and leaned it against the wall. He didn’t answer right away, but the faint pink creeping up his ears gave him away at the thought.

“…I guess,” he admitted slowly, “it’d be nice to have someone to come home to.”

Bucky’s grin turned smug instantly. “Ah. There it is.”

“She’s here for research,” Steve reminded him firmly, snapping himself back to reality. “Not to get hitched to a couple of guys who spend all day haulin’ logs and tendin’ cattle.”

“But picture this, Stevie—” Bucky glanced up as he crouched on the floor, steadily pumping air into the mattress. “You work yourself half to death,” he went on, muscles flexing. “We both do. Up before the sun, down after it sets. Muscles sore, hands cracked, brain fried.” He slowed, leaning his weight against the pump. “Wouldn’t kill us to have someone who… helps take the edge off.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve groaned, turning to try and hide the blush on his cheeks. “You’re gross, man.”

“Look—” Bucky sighed as he stood, “we haven’t had a woman like that around here in a long time. And she’s not just any woman—she’s smart.” He shook his head, scoffing lightly. “A man’s allowed to dream about comin’ home to somethin’ nice. Maybe even havin’ a smooth pair of legs wrapped nice and tight around—”

His voice trailed off as his eyes caught sight of you through the window.

You stood on the front porch, barefoot, a towel draped around your shoulders as water dripped from your hair. You were dressed in something light and easy—a dress. Nothing fancy, but far more comfortable than what you’d worn when they first met you.

… And somehow, far more domestic.

Steve followed Bucky’s gaze, his breath hitching once he saw you. Bucky swallowed hard. Neither of them spoke.

Then, they finally looked at each other, faces warm, wearing the same boyish, awed grin—just like the ones frozen in those crooked childhood photos on the wall.

“Pretty,” they both murmured at the exact same time.

They watched as you lifted a hand to shield your eyes, squinting against the afternoon sun as you scanned the yard. You took a few steps down the porch, bare feet tip-toeing around the dirt as you tried to squint at the shed.

Bucky straightened immediately, dropping the pump as it hit the wooden floors with a loud thud. “She’s lookin’ for us.”

Steve was already moving, setting the broom aside so quickly it wobbled, then clattered against the wall before falling to the floor. “Well—don’t just stand there!”

They headed for the door at the same time, bumping shoulders as they squeezed past each other, neither willing to give ground. When you spotted them walking toward you with Steve taking the lead and Bucky half a step behind, clearly trying to edge ahead, a small smile spread across your face.

“Oh—there you two are. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to—” you sighed in relief, gesturing vaguely at the farm around you. “—wander.”

Bucky let out a short chuckle, rocking back on his heels as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You can wander all you’d like, darlin’,” he said. “What’s ours is yours.”

The nickname threw you off guard. You felt your face warm, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the sun as you tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Back in the city, men didn’t really talk like that unless they were intoxicated at a bar and trying to get in your pants.

But this felt different. Maybe it was just that gentleman, charming, farmer boy thing.

“Oh,” you said, a little breathless. “That’s—uh… really sweet. Thank you, Bucky.”

Steve gave Bucky a look out of the corner of his eye—a careful look. Bucky, meanwhile, looked far too pleased with himself.

“Just don’t go wanderin’ too far, baby,” Steve added quickly, stepping up onto the porch beside you. “Some of the fences are old, and the horses don’t always respect personal place.”

If you hadn’t been flustered before, you definitely were now.

You didn’t get called things like darlin’ or baby very often, and even when you did, the words had never affected you like this. Not the way they sounded coming from two devastatingly handsome, accommodating men with soft southern accents.

“I—okay,” you said quickly, nodding as you snapped yourself out of it, though the corners of your mouth still tugged into a smile. “I’ll be careful.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he glanced at Steve, then back at you, his own lips twitching like he was biting back a comment.

“We’ve fixed up the shed for you,” Bucky said instead, propping one leg on the porch step and resting a hand on the railing. “Mattress is ready if you wanna rest. You wanna take a look?”

Your attention drifted past the shed, toward the open fields, the fencing, and the animals moving lazily across the land.

“Actually,” you trailed, removing the towel from your shoulders, “would it be okay if I checked out the animals first?”

Bucky tilted his head. “Animals?”

“For my research,” you clarified quickly. “I’d really like to get an initial survey while there’s still daylight. Just some baseline observations—livestock condition, spacing, behavior. I won’t get in the way.”

Steve exchanged a glance with Bucky—a look you’d noticed they shared often since you arrived.

Then Steve smiled back at you. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just—” he gestured vaguely to the fences, “—stay where we can see you. Okay?”

“Don’t worry,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not planning on getting lost.”

As you turned back to the house, already half a step up the porch with the intention of grabbing your shoes, something caught the corner of your eye. Your gaze snapped to the far end of the pasture, where a small cluster of animals had gathered. A few cows wandered lazily nearby, but it was two chickens in particular that caught your attention.

A hen crouched low to the ground, wings spread slightly, tail lifted—while a rooster mounted her from behind.

Your eyes went wide.

“Oh—wait, wait, wait!”

Shoes forgotten entirely, you pivoted on your heel and hurried back down the porch steps, already digging your phone out of your dress pocket. “This is perfect timing! Hold this—please—”

Behind you, Steve barely had time to react before the towel was tossed his way, landing squarely over his head.

“Hey—” he started, but you were already jogging barefoot across the dirt, eyes locked on the breeding chickens.

Your hair breezed through wind and they got a good whiff of the pleasant scent before you ran off. Despite using the same shampoo as them, it smelled surprisingly soft and very feminine. A smell they weren’t used to, but one they’d easily grow fond of.

You slowed as you got closer, steadying your hands, snapping a few quick photos as discreetly as possible, and crouching slightly to keep from startling them. Your lips moved as you narrated under your breath.

“Estrus behavior visible… herd proximity unchanged… minimal disruption…”

Bucky stared after you, incredulous, before letting out a low whistle. He nudged Steve in the arm just as Steve pulled the towel off his face.

“What’d I tell you?” Bucky murmured with a crooked grin. “Barefoot—” he nodded inside the house, still warm and humid from your shower, “—and already keepin’ the house warm.”

“Alright. Enough gawking,” Steve warned, though his eyes were still still fixed on you. “Just ’cause we’ve got a pretty girl livin’ with us now doesn’t mean we don’t have work to do.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that while you stare even harder.”

For the rest of the afternoon, until the sun laid low and the sky began to darken, the two men worked diligently around the farm. And despite Steve’s warnings not to gawk, their eyes found you anyway—again and again.

You crouched near the animals, scribbling notes into your journal, occasionally lifting an expensive-looking camera—one in far better condition than their own damn truck—to snap photos of the cattle. And even after they’d warned you about the fences, you climbed up onto the railings anyway, the wood creaking beneath your toes as you leaned forward, determined to get the perfect shot of the horses.

Wood was getting stacked, hay bales tossed aside, tools scattered and gathered again as needed.

Still, every so often, Steve would glance up from his work to try and look at you, but only to catch Bucky leaning against the farmhouse doorway, eyes trailing shamelessly in your direction.

“Whatcha starin’ at, Buck?” Steve grinned as he tied off a rope around a hay bale.

Bucky didn’t look away from you. His smile softened as he watched the way you held the camera carefully, how your toes balanced on the fence rail, the breeze tugging gently at your hair and dress.

“Just admirin’ the view.”

Steve’s gaze followed his, and he let out a low groan as he stood up. “She’s gonna fall off that fence if she keeps leanin’ over like that.”

“And we’ll be there to catch her,” Bucky replied with a grin, pushing off the doorframe to help with the bales.

You had no idea you were being watched so closely.

Unbeknownst to them, you had been sneaking glances of your own towards the farm. Their white tank tops—streaked with dirt and darkened with sweat—clung to their muscular bodies. Broad arms and strong backs flexed and tensed every time they lifted something heavy. Each hay bale toss came with a grit of teeth, a scrunched brow, and a low, rough groan.

And afterward, they would both exhale deeply, chests rising as they wiped sweat from their foreheads with thick forearms.

They were both strong, capable men—reeking of masculinity, so sure with their hands with what came from years of real work.

Men you’d never meet in the city.

Night had fully settled in now, the sky stretched dark blue and wide, scattered with bright stars. From where you stood, you watched Steve and Bucky just outside the house, pumping water through the pipes as they rinsed off their hands and faces.

Water trickled from their chins, disappearing into the deep lines of their firm chests beneath worn tank tops. They wiped their faces with towels, murmured something to each other—and then both turned your way.

Two sets of eyes found yours that stared at them shamelessly.

You immediately looked down at your camera screen, pretending to be fixated on the chickens you photographed as you tried to play it cool.

Then you heard footsteps, two sets of heavy footsteps treading through the grass and dirt and closer to you.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve approached, crossing his arms while he looked down at you. “We were gonna grab some food in a bit. You hungry?”

“Oh,” you hummed, your stomach already answering with a rumble. “Yeah. I could eat.”

“Every Friday night, the town heads down to the bar,” Steve continued. “More of a saloon, really. Beer, cheap whiskey, food. Sometimes there’s live music if Gary brings his guitar—or the jukebox, if it decides to work.”

“And line dancin’,” Bucky added. “Bad line dancin’.”

“I’m not sure if you have that kind of thing in the city,” Steve went on, resting a hand against the fence as he hovered over you, “but if you wanna tag along for a bite, you’re more than welcome.”

You closed your journal and slipped the camera strap from around your neck, standing with a small groan as you stretched. You were here for research, yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to see what the town had to offer beyond livestock and open fields.

“That sounds fun,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come. I just need to rinse up real quick and I’ll be right out.”

Your gaze dropped to your feet, dirt caked between your toes, bits of grass still clinging to your skin. Then you glanced down at your clothes.

“Is… what I’m wearing okay?” you asked, a little self-conscious as you smoothed the fabric down.

Steve’s eyes dropped before he could stop them, taking in the way the dress fit you—how it followed and hugged your curves, how the neckline framed your chest just right. Realizing how intensely he was staring, he snapped his gaze back up to your face. His jaw tightened as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly, standing up straight. Then he cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s— it’s fine. You’re fine.”

Bucky, on the other hand, took your question as an invitation to check you out shamelessly. His eyes roamed over you—appreciating your chest and legs. Liking what he saw, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, teeth catching it afterward.

“Real pretty, doll,” he said lowly. “Wearin’ a dress like that around here… almost makes me wanna keep you to ourselves.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping the silver moonlight didn’t betray the flush on your cheeks or the way your lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“You two are unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head as you stepped past them towards the house.

Halfway to the porch, you called back over your shoulder, your voice playful. “Do you flirt with every woman who crosses your path, or am I just lucky?”

Bucky’s mouth snapped open—a smart-ass remark already locked and loaded—but Steve cut him off instantly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “Hey now! Don’t look at me. It’s him. He’s the problem.”

The sound of your light, airy laugh drifted back to them—a sound so soft and gentle, it seemed to knock the air right out of their lungs.

“I’ll be back in a minute!” you called with a wave, jogging up the porch steps and disappearing inside.

“Don’t take too long!” Bucky shouted after you. “Or else all the food will be gone by the time we get there.”

As the screen door clicked shut and you vanished from sight, their laughter trailed off. The silence of the countryside came back, broken only by the faint chirps of crickets in the distance.

Steve let out a heavy exhale, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…We gotta get a grip,” he muttered.

“I’m being serious, Stevie,” Bucky said, giving his friend’s arm a sharp nudge.

His flirtatious smirk was gone, now replaced with a protective look that Steve had only seen him give to their horses.

“I mean—look at her. If she shows up at the bar looking like that, every bastard in the county is going to be breathing down her neck.” He crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the door where you had just been.

“…Yeah,” Steve huffed quietly. “I know.” His gaze stayed on the house, tracking your silhouette as it moved past the lit windows.

“Hell, half the men in this town would get worked up just seein’ a lady show a bit of ankle,” Steve added dryly. “I still can’t believe Fury told her to come to this dump.”

Bucky let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Listen to us—soundin’ real territorial all of a sudden.”

Steve scrubbed a hand down his face, his palm rasping against his stubble. “It’s just—she’s our responsibility while she’s here. Fury trusted us to look out for her. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah,” Bucky hummed. “That’s all.”

They stood in the yard, watching you move past the glow of the house windows.

In the long silence, they both realized how dead wrong they were. Truthfully, they weren’t all that much better compared to the sleazy, overworked men in town.

When they first laid eyes on you, they immediately wanted to keep you to themselves. And despite only having you here for a couple of hours, they were going to make sure to keep it that way.

Steve started talking lowly to Bucky, quiet enough to make sure you couldn’t hear—even though you were already inside.

“We stick close tonight. No one bothers her. No one gets handsy. And if anyone does—” Steve stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. “—we shut it down. Calmly.” He emphasized.

“Right.” Bucky nodded. “Calmly.”

“That means we don’t start fights, Buck.”

“Hey—I don’t believe in startin’ fights,” he mumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Just… finishin’ ‘em.”

“Alright, enough loitering. Let’s start up Lucy.” Steve slapped a firm hand on Bucky’s back, nudging him towards the truck.

Bucky mumbled grumpily but trailed behind anyway, yanking the hood latch and propping it open while Steve climbed into the driver’s seat. The keys jingled as Steve turned the ignition.

The truck clicked, chugged, whined, and gave them nothing.

He tried again. Another cough, a weak sputter—and then silence.

“… You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve muttered, giving Bucky a flat look through the windshield.

Bucky leaned over the engine bay, bracing one hand on the frame. “Don’t look at me like that. She was runnin’ fine earlier.”

“Well, she’s got real bad timing,” Steve shot back sassily, twisting the key once more, like sheer will might help. The engine answered with a pathetic hiccup and died again. “We can’t invite her out and then tell her the truck’s dead.”

“I didn’t invite her,” Bucky said, poking at a hose. “You did.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

Bucky adjusted a loose wire, fingers blackening with grease. “Try it now.”

Steve turned the key, and still… nothing.

Steve leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling sharply. “Unbelievable. First night she’s here, and we’re about to tell her we can’t even get her into town.”

“Relax,” Bucky said, though his jaw was tight. “Lucy’s temperamental. Always has been.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and bent closer to look inside the engine. “Could be the starter. Or the battery. Or—”

The screen door slammed shut, and both men froze at the sound.

You stepped back out, shoes on this time, hair neatly fixed, looking entirely too put together for a place like this. You jogged towards the truck, a smile already on your face.

“Hey!” you called brightly. “You guys ready?”

Steve’s head snapped up so fast he nearly cracked his neck. Bucky straightened, narrowly missing the hood as he stood.

“Yeah—uh—we’re ready,” Steve said quickly, turning the key again. “C’mon…” he muttered under his breath.

Then the engine finally roared back to life, loud and rumbling, sounding like music to their ears. Both men looked at each other in disbelief.

Bucky slowly lowered the hood and gave it an affectionate pat. “Atta girl,” he murmured. Then he glanced at Steve, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Our good luck charm, ain’t she?”

Steve shook his head, trying to hide his own smile. “Yeah. She is.”

And you couldn’t tell if they were talking about the truck—or you.

Lucy rattled beneath you like she was held together by sheer luck alone.

The ride into town was loud and bumpy, the streets dark and lit only by the truck’s dusty high beams and the occasional window light from passing houses.

The windows were down, warm night air rushing through the cab, drifting in the scent of dust, grass, and something smoky from farther ahead. Steve drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed now that the truck had decided to cooperate, while Bucky leaned back in his seat, elbow hooked out the window.

Town came into view slowly—a handful of buildings clustered under string lights and old streetlamps. It looked far more beautiful than it had in the broad daylight when you first arrived. The bar stood near the center, a squat wooden building with a faded sign swinging above the door. Even before Steve cut the engine, the twang of banjos and guitars met your ears.

“Well,” Steve said, hopping out and extending a hand to help you down. “We made it.”

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with the sounds of loud music, laughter, and the smell of cigarettes.

Glasses clinked, boots thudded and scraped against the old floorboards. A few men with weathered faces leaned against the bar with their sleeves rolled up, while a group of elderly women sat at a corner table with playing cards spread out before them. Someone whooped near the jukebox, and a few people were already on the floor, dancing and sweating.

One pair of eyes landed on you, then several.

Soon enough, nearly everyone in the damn bar was staring.

Conversation grew a little quieter. Curious, surprised, and a few openly appreciative glances lingered on you longer than they should’ve. You crossed your arms defensively on instinct, suddenly very aware of yourself.

And both of your boys noticed.

Steve stepped up beside you, resting a protective hand on your lower back that somehow managed to soothe you. Bucky moved to your other side quietly, his broad shoulders subtly boxing you in as he glared at everyone else in the room.

Most of the crowd looked away and returned to their drinks, but the younger men kept their eyes fixed on you.

“Don’t mind them,” Bucky murmured, leaning in so only you could hear. “Town don’t get many new faces. Especially not pretty ones.”

Before you could respond, someone at the bar shouted, “Rogers! Barnes! Thought that was Lucy I heard coughin’ her way into town!”

Steve laughed, lifting his other hand in greeting. “You know she wouldn’t miss a Friday.”

The elderly men at the bar chuckled, and one of them leaned back on his stool to get a better look at you. “Well, don’t just stand there hoggin’ her, Rogers,” he called out. “Come on over and introduce us to your new friend.”

You hesitated, your eyes darting between Steve and Bucky. Despite the protective hand on your back, Steve’s expression remained calm and gentle, clearly intent on not starting any trouble. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to fight anyone who even dared to look your way.

“They’re alright,” Steve reassured you quietly. “Promise. Half the fellas at the bar are married.”

Then a burst of laughter exploded from a table near the back where a group of women sat hunched over cards and half-empty glasses—clearly the wives in question. One of them slapped the table. “That’s because you earned it, Marie!” another shouted back. “Now stop yellin’ and play your damn hand!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Steve gave you a gentle nudge. “C’mon. Let’s say hello.”

They led you toward the bar, Steve’s hand relaxed and guiding at your back while Bucky stalked half a step behind you, mugging everyone who looked your way. The older men adjusted their stools, flashing friendly smiles as they made space for you.

“This is Frank,” Steve said by way of introduction, and you reached out to shake his hand.

“So,” Frank raised a brow, looking between the three of you. “Who’s the young lady?”

You returned his greeting with a polite smile. “I’m a family friend of Fury’s. I’m here for a research project.”

“Ohhh, Fury’s girl?” the bartender whistled, wiping down a glass. “Well, hell—someone warn the whole town not to lay a finger on this one.”

A few men barked a laugh, the scent of beer wafting from their breath, as Frank waved a finger between Bucky and Steve.

“Specially you two,” he said, looking at you. “These guys are the ones causin’ most of the trouble around here. Fury actually trusted you with them?”

“Hey, we’re perfect gentlemen,” Steve countered. “Ain’t that right, Buck?”

“Right,” Bucky muttered, his arms crossed as he glared at someone across the bar. “Gentlemen.”

You shrugged lightly, smiling. “They’ve been nothing but nice. They even fixed up a shed for me to stay in.”

“A shed?” one man barked, spit nearly flying. You took a subtle step back. “Rogers, Barnes—you stick a girl in a shed and call it hospitality?”

“Don’t sully my ma’s house like that,” Steve joked, reaching over the counter to grab himself a beer.

“Y’know, when Sarah was alive, she didn’t call it much of a house, either,” Frank added, stifling his cigarette in the ashtray as a cloud of smoke drifted toward you.

Steve reached over the counter again, this time snagging two more bottles and sliding cash to the bartender with a nod of thanks.

“Alright, alright,” he said good-naturedly. “Before you all start fillin’ our girl’s ears with nonsense, we’re gonna grab a table.”

Bucky tipped his chin to the back corner. “There’s an empty one over there.”

Steve nodded in that direction, gesturing for you to lead the way.

“Oh, so she’s your girl now!” the men teased, their laughter following you. As the three of you walked away, they called out their goodbyes. “It was nice meetin’ you, sweetheart!”

You looked over your shoulder, giving them a quick wave.

“And it was nice talkin’ to you too, Barnes!” Frank shouted sarcastically. Bucky didn’t even look back, simply raising a hand in a dismissive wave as he guided you to the booth.

Bucky stood aside, letting you take the inside seat of the booth. As you slid in, the cushions felt worn and soft—broken in by years of Friday nights exactly like this one. Once you were settled and had set your beer set on the table, Bucky slid in right next to you.

“I’ll grab us somethin’ to eat,” Steve said, standing at the edge of the table and scanning the chalkboard menu. “Place may be small and reeks of cigarettes, but they do grill a mean burger.”

You smiled up at him. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

Steve turned back toward the bar, weaving his way through the crowd. It was just you and Bucky now, surrounded by the loud music and people nearly tripping over themselves. You took it all in with curious eyes while Bucky leaned back against the booth, his arm draped lazily across the top of the seat behind you, beer resting casually in his hand.

“So,” Bucky huffed after taking a sip. “How’re you likin’ the small-town nightlife? Real glitz and glamour out here.”

Your eyes continued scanning the room—the scuffed, dirty floors, the dartboard with three crooked darts still stuck in it, and some burly men arm wrestling in the opposite corner.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed sarcastically. “Definitely glitz and glamour. We do this all the time back in the city.”

“Yeah?” he laughed softly. “Definitely just like the champagne-and-rooftop parties you have every night. Uh-huh, got it.” He smiled at you before taking another swig of his beer.

You watched the lines crinkle attractively at the corners of his tired eyes—evidence of long days and too little rest. His tongue swept across his bottom lip to catch a stray drop, and the simple motion made your stomach flip, your pulse ticking up a notch.

You took a quick sip from your own bottle to hide your reaction, then cleared your throat.

“Anyway,” you started lightly, “what’s with everyone telling me that you two are trouble?”

Bucky let out a playful scoff. “That’s just old-timer slander. We’re model citizens.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Right. So innocent that every person I’ve met has warned me about you two,” you added dryly.

“Absolutely,” he said, lifting his beer in a small toast. “Wouldn’t hurt a damn fly, darlin’.”

“Does that explain why you’ve been scowling at every man in here like you’re ready to fight since we walked through the doors?” you taunted.

He set his beer on the table and leaned in closer; you could catch the scent of it on his breath. “Look around you, sweetheart,” he rasped.

You did. The room was full of weathered faces, grease-stained flannel shirts, and men who had clearly seen better days. Most of the women were gathered at the cards table—all silver hair and loud, gravelly laughter.

“See any other woman as young and beautiful as you?” he asked. His eyes trailed over your face, down to your jawline and your neck while you were too busy scanning the bar to notice. “Stevie and I are just protectin’ you, that’s all.”

Protecting you?

Your face warmed, and the second you turned your gaze back to him, you found he was already watching you, leaning in dangerously close.

“That so?” you asked softly, your eyes searching his.

“That’s so,” he repeated lowly. You watched as his gaze dropped slowly from your eyes to your lips.

In the city, independence was everything; women were expected to take care of themselves. But here, it felt like those modern rules had been stripped away in favor of the old ways. It was traditional—strong, capable men protecting and providing while the women held down the home. It was a lifestyle that didn’t—couldn’t— exist in the city where everyone was always on the clock.

Just then, Steve approached, setting down plates piled with burgers, fries, and ribs. He had a wide grin on his face. “Eat up, princess.”

As you looked at the food and then back at the two of them, you realized that maybe you didn’t mind being taken care of—especially by them.

You all dug in, the smell of grilled meat and greasy fries making your stomach rumble. Bucky took a massive bite of his burger, already smearing sauce across his chin. He glanced over at you, smirking while he chewed.

“Bet you don’t eat this kind of slop back in the city, do ya?” he teased, nodding at your hands as you tried to steady a burger the size of your head. “Probably don’t even know how to eat with your hands.”

You rolled your eyes. “I do know how to eat with my hands,” you said, adjusting your grip. “I’m just eating with manners—something you two should try learning.”

“Hey, don’t be afraid of a little mess,” Bucky said, swiping a finger over a barbecue rib until it was coated in sauce. “That’s part of the fun.”

Steve gave him a disapproving look across the table. “Buck, no—”

But Steve’s warning went in one ear and out the other. Before you could react, Bucky reached over and swiped a thick line of barbecue sauce right over your lips and chin.

“Hey—!” You recoiled, pressing your lips tight to keep his finger from slipping into your mouth. Bucky sat back in his seat, letting out a roar of laughter at your reaction.

“Oh my god, Bucky! You are trouble!”

You reached for a napkin, but Steve snatched it away before you could grab it, snickering along with his friend.

“Steve, you too?!” you frowned dramatically, dropping your burger back onto the plate. You stood up, reaching across the booth to grab it, but Steve held it further back, laughing at your sad attempt. “How could you do this to me? You literally told Bucky no!”

“I know, I know,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “But look at you—you look so damn cute, sweetheart.”

With a groan, you leaned over the table, stretching just far enough to snatch the napkins right out of Steve’s hands. You immediately started dabbing at the mess on your chin.

“Jesus,” you said, shaking your head playfully. “Nick was right about you two.”

All three of you were still recovering from the laughter when two large shadows fell over the table, blocking the warm overhead light.

“Well, well,” a slurred voice drawled, catching the guys' attention. “Ain’t this a pretty picture.”

Bucky looked up, and it was like a dark cloud loomed over him; his smile was instantly replaced by a hard, dangerous frown. “Get lost, Mike.”

‘Mike’ didn’t even glance at Bucky. Instead, his bleary gaze raked over you, slow and hazy in a way that made your skin prick uncomfortably. You sank back into your seat, subtly trying to hide yourself behind Bucky’s frame.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Mike said, leaning his hands on the edge of the booth, trying to keep himself from toppling over. You could smell the cheap whiskey on his breath from across the table. “Didn’t know Buck was harborin’ such a pretty little secret. Take a look at this prize, Dave.”

His buddy, ‘Dave’, snickered beside him, resting a lazy arm around Mike’s shoulders. “Oh, what a pretty thing you are. City girl, right? You bored with these two yet? You know, we could show you a real good time.”

Steve shot you a careful look. “Just ignore them—”

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” you answered sternly, the words out before you could even register Steve’s warning.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving Mike’s. “I said get lost.”

They ignored him again.

Mike tilted his head at you, a lopsided, ugly smirk on his face as he adjusted his footing, nearly stumbling. “You’re probably gettin’ real tired of being stuck with these two nobodies,” he scoffed. “Why don’tcha hang out with real men like us?”

That was when Bucky’s hand curled into a white-knuckled fist on the table.

Steve reached out, his fingers brushing Bucky’s forearm as a warning. “Buck.” Then, he faced the men, his voice calm and level. “Alright. That’s enough. She’s with us. Go stick with your arm wrestling and leave us be.”

Dave laughed—a mean, loud sound—and reached over to give Bucky a mocking nudge on the shoulder. “Yeah, listen to your boy-toy, Barnes. Like the loyal dog you are.”

Steve’s brow twitched. “What the hell did you just say to him?”

You rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, leaning in with a worried look. “Bucky, I think we should just go—”

But before you could finish the sentence, Steve moved in one quick, explosive motion—his boots hit the floor hard as he lunged out of the booth. A blur of movement followed as his fist cracked straight across Dave’s jaw. The brutal, clean punch of skin-against-skin echoed through the bar, followed by a startled gasps of people who stood nearby.

Mike blinked in shock, watching his friend drop, then let out a roar and swung at Steve. The punch caught Steve high on the cheekbone, snapping his head to the side.

People jumped out of their chairs, wood scraping against floorboards as they shouted and lifted their drinks. “Fight, fight, fight!”

“Jesus Christ!” you gasped, quickly getting up. You nudged Bucky in the shoulder hard. “Bucky, grab Steve and let’s get out of here—!”

But Bucky was already standing, and he had absolutely no intention of ending it.

His blue eyes were filled with fury as he closed the distance to Mike. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, spinning him around just to deliver a devastating blow straight to his face—then another immediately to his gut, sending Mike doubling over.

“Fuckin’ Barnes!” Mike wheezed.

A circle formed around them almost instantly, leaving you trapped inside the booth with no escape. People cheered, laughing and whooping as if this were a Friday night show rather than a real fight.

“Knock ’em silly, Rogers!”

“Your punches are gettin’ sloppy, Barnes!”

Your heart thumped fast in your chest as punches flew in a blur and blood splattered the floor. You twisted in your seat, scanning the room desperately for anyone who might step in—a security guard, a bouncer, any responsible grown-up.

The bartender just threw his head back and laughed, wiping the counter with a rag. “Ah, hell,” he called over the noise, sounding more amused than concerned. “Didn’t think it’d only take two drinks tonight.”

A few men near the bar raised their glasses, toasting to the chaos.

“Hey! Can someone stop them?!” you tried again, but no one heard you. Or, more likely, no one cared.

A couple of the older women at the card table barely glanced up from their game, still laughing among themselves.

“They’ll walk it off,” a guy at a nearby table said casually, taking a slow sip of his beer.

“Barnes always did have a temper,” one of the elderly women added from the card table, her voice sounding almost fond of the memory.

You watched in horror as Bucky and Mike stumbled into a nearby table, knocking it over and sending beers flying as they exchanged heavy blows. Next to them, Steve had Dave in a chokehold while Dave repeatedly drove his elbow into Steve’s gut, making him recoil with every hit.

The bartender noticed you trying to push your way out of the booth, your hands waving in frantic, useless circles as you tried to get him to stop the madness.

“Don’t try to fix it, city girl!” he called out, his booming voice carrying over the crowd. “They’ll be done when they’re done!”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. Just then, the room erupted into cheers as Steve delivered a massive hook to Dave’s jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. Dave groaned, spitting blood onto the floorboards as he tried to push himself back up.

Steve stood over him, chest heaving as he adjusted his stance. “You done?”

Dave wiped his mouth. “Not even close.”

“Good,” Steve huffed, raising his fists again. “I could do this all day.”

Oh.

Despite the panic, a snort escaped you at how ridiculously corny that was. Yet for some reason, the line seemed to amp up the crowd even more—as if he were a pro wrestler and that was his legendary signature catchphrase.

“That’s it, Rogers!”

“Yeah! Show ’em!”

“Knock his teeth out!”

As you looked between the men, your shoulders eased just slightly. You realized Mike and Dave were in far worse condition than Bucky and Steve.

They weren’t losing.

They were in complete control, moving like they’d fought like this a plenty of times before. It was as if this bar floor had been their training ground since they were kids.

With a defeated sigh, you tipped your beer back and took several long swallows, emptying the bottle in one go. The cheap alcohol hit your system, mixing with the leftover adrenaline and replacing your earlier panic with a sudden, sharp spark of excitement.

You slammed the empty bottle down on the table, cupped your hands around your mouth, and shouted over the roar of the crowd.

“Kick his ass, Steve!”

A few heads turned—some giving you surprised glances—while other men cheered along with you.

“Come on, Buck—you can do better than that!” you yelled.

Bucky blinked at you, a surprised smile ghosting over his bloodied face before he used your voice as fuel to keep going.

Steve ducked a sloppy swing from Dave, landing a clean hook that snapped the man’s head to the side. Dave staggered backward, fighting to stay upright as the crowd erupted. Meanwhile, Bucky had Mike pinned against the floor, each punch making the wood rattle and creak.

You watched, breath caught in your throat. You were worried about their safety, but God—they were good at this.

And they looked good doing it.

Their hair was damp with sweat, trailing over their faces as they grunted and delivered heavy blows. You couldn’t help but notice the way their muscles flexed or the way the veins stood out on their large, powerful hands.

The brawl continued until more tables were upended and bottles shattered, glass spraying everywhere as the locals scrambled to avoid the crossfire.

Finally, the bartender slapped his rag onto the counter with a sharp, fed-up sigh.

“Alright! That’s enough!”

Steve grabbed Dave by the shirt, his fist cocked back, while Bucky buried another punch into Mike’s stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. The bartender’s patience finally snapped for good.

“I SAID THAT’S ENOUGH!”

The room finally fell quiet.

He jabbed a finger towards the entrance. “Barnes. Rogers. OUT. And take Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum with you before you bleed all over my damn floor.”

By the time you all made it back to the farm, the night air had cooled significantly, the crickets still humming lazily just as they had before you left. Lucy rumbled to a stop, and the three of you climbed out in silence.

As you approached the house, the porch light flickered on with a weak, twitching buzz.

In the dim yellow glow, you finally saw the extent of the damage.

Steve’s cheekbone was already swelling, a dark bruise blooming beneath the skin, while dried blood traced a path from his split lip to his chin. His knuckles were raw and scraped open. Bucky didn’t look much better—one brow was split, a smear of red trailing down his temple, and dust was ground so deeply into his clothes it looked like he’d rolled through every inch of the town’s dirt.

“Well,” Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’ll turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Bucky added, brushing dirt off his shirt like that would somehow fix anything. “Let us know if you need anythin’, doll. We’ll keep the door unlocked for you.”

They both turned to the door, but your voice made them stop.

“No,” you said sternly.

They both looked back, Steve tilting his head in confusion. “No?”

“You guys are not going to bed like that.” You gestured wildly between their bruised faces. “You’re both bleeding. You’re filthy. And—God, both of your knuckles look like ground meat.”

Bucky glanced down at his fists and mumbled, “It’s not that bad…”

“It is,” you insisted.

He shrugged. “Fine. We’ll rinse off with some cold water and soap. Done.”

“Not done,” you corrected sharply. “You’ll wake up with infections and crusted in blood. You guys were rolling all over a floor covered in God-knows-what.”

They exchanged a glance, not really knowing what to say. You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Inside. Now,” you ordered.

Steve opened his mouth, holding up a hand. “Honey, we’re fine. You should get some rest—”

You ignored him, pointing firmly past him toward the house. “Go.”

Inside, you guided them to the kitchen table like scolded schoolboys. Steve sat down, his posture stiff and awkward, while Bucky leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. He was trying to play it cool, though he clearly had no idea what to do with himself.

It had been years since they were in this position—not since they were kids and Steve’s mom was patching them up after a rough day of playing in the dirt and getting into scrapes. Back then, they’d have wide grins on their faces as she kissed their "boo-boos" goodbye.

But now, as grown men with a beautiful woman in their home tending to them, they were both as stiff as a load of bricks.

They watched in silence as you filled a bowl with warm water, found a clean cloth, and grabbed the small first-aid tin they pointed out in one of the cabinents.

You sat down in front of Steve. “Alright,” you murmured, dipping the cloth and wringing it out. “You’re first.”

You pulled your chair closer, tucking yourself between his knees as you gently tilted his face toward the warm overhead light. The bruise across his cheekbone looked even worse up close. When you pressed the damp cloth to his skin, he flinched.

“Sorry,” you whispered, softening your touch.

“S’okay,” he murmured back. “It feels nice.”

Bucky watched from the counter, his jaw clenching. He couldn’t quite place the feeling in his chest; all he knew was that he wanted the same focused attention Steve was getting.

So, when you said, “Bucky, come here. I’ll do you next,” his feet moved without hesitation.

He grabbed a chair and dragged it right up behind you—perhaps a little too close in his eagerness. He settled in as he impatiently waited his turn, sandwiching you between the two of them.

“Both of you,” you said, setting the bowl down and picking up the gauze. “Watch me. That way, when someone’s not here to take care of you, you can take care of each other the next time you get into a bar fight.”

You took Steve’s hand, and he shuddered at the contact. As you carefully wrapped his split knuckles, your fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, making him swallow hard.

You could feel Bucky’s presence right behind you. He leaned over your shoulder, watching your hands work. Seeing how softly you cared for Steve hit him with a deep sense of longing he couldn’t hide anymore. He sighed softly, resting his forehead against your back, his rough hand finding your waist to give it a gentle, needy squeeze.

“I… need attention, too,” Bucky mumbled.

You finished wrapping Steve’s hand, snipping the excess gauze with a pair of scissors. A soft chuckle escaped you at Bucky’s blunt admission.

“Well,” you teased. “Maybe if you two hadn’t started a fight, you wouldn’t be in such desperate need of my attention.”

“We had to defend you, baby,” Bucky sighed. His hands palmed your waist, making you gasp softly.

For Bucky, there was something grounding about your proximity—the way you felt under his hands was relieving for him after the chaos of a long day.

“They were lookin’ at you with bad intentions, sweetheart,” Steve added, leaning in even closer as his eyes bored into yours. “We were just tryna protect you.”

You picked the towel back up, looking deep into Steve’s gaze. He was staring at you so intensely that it made the air feel thin. If you leaned in just an inch further, you could have kissed him.

And judging by the way his gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, he was thinking the exact same thing.

“I’ve been stared at and talked about by plenty of nasty men in the city,” you explained softly, wringing the towel over the bowl. “But not once did anyone defend me the way you two did. You’ve both done so much for me since I got here, and I don’t know how to pay you back.” You lifted the damp cloth. “This is the least I can do.”

“You being here, taking care of us… that’s more than enough,” Bucky rasped.

You turned in your chair to face him, your brow furrowing as you took in his split skin. When you dabbed the towel gently against the cut, he hissed.

“You might need a butterfly bandage for your brow.” You frowned.

Despite the sting, Bucky let out a rough chuckle. “You’re speakin’ a different language, darlin’.”

You rummaged through the tin and, to your surprise, managed to find one. You held up the bandage; it was still in its wrapping, though the edges were a bit frayed.

“How long has this been in here?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. We don’t really use the kit. Not since my ma passed.”

“It should be fine,” you shrugged. “Better than nothing.” Because of Bucky’s height, even with him sitting, you had to stand up to get a clear look at the wound.

“Hold still,” you whispered, reaching out to push a few long, dark locks of hair out of his face.

Bucky’s hands didn’t stay still, they continued to roam around your waist, originally with the intention to steady you as you stood over him, but his touch was growing bolder.

He let out a low shudder as your fingers trailed over his forehead, smoothing his hair out of the way. The sensation of being taken care of by you finally broke through him as his palms slid from your sides toward the small of your back, pulling you just an inch closer.

Bucky looked up at you, his eyes dark and heavy—and it had nothing to do with the exhaustion of the day.

“You feel so warm underneath my hands, baby,” Bucky rasped, his thumbs grazing the hem of your shirt. “I like this sight. You takin’ care of us. Ain’t that right, Stevie?”

You felt the floorboards creak as Steve rose from his chair. A second later, his presence loomed behind you, solid and warm. You were completely trapped between them now—Bucky’s hands at your waist and Steve’s shadow falling over your back.

Steve leaned in, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending a shiver straight down your spine that made your hands tremble as you held the bandage.

“You’re right, Buck,” Steve murmured against the smooth skin of your neck, resting his hands on your hips. “I like this. Very much.”

You stood frozen as Steve’s nose brushed against the sensitive spot behind your ear while Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened, his thumbs tracing slow, and smooth circles over your hips.

“You guys…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper—breathless and trembling. You tried to focus on Bucky, your fingers shaking as you finally pressed the butterfly bandage over the split in his brow.

He leaned his face into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a long, heavy exhale.

“Shhh,” Bucky murmured, his voice vibrating. He shifted his head to press a soft, lingering kiss to the palm of your hand. “Just stay here, baby. Let us hold you. We’ve had a long day.”

Behind you, Steve’s hands slid fully around to your front, his large palms splaying across your stomach as he pulled your back against his broad chest. He buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke.

“Buck’s right,” Steve rumbled, his arms acting like a warm, heavy anchor. “Just for a minute. Stay right here.”

The silence of the night outside amplified the low, gravelly tones of their voices. They both spoke as if you weren’t there—or as if you were a prize— talking over and around you while their hands continued their slow, possessive exploration of your body.

“Fuck, she’s so soft, Stevie,” Bucky groaned.

His eyes were still closed, his forehead resting against your stomach as his hands slid lower, his calloused palms molding to the curve of your backside. “I didn’t think skin could be this soft.”

“Smells so good, too,” Steve murmured into your hair, his voice vibrating through your spine. He took a deep, shaky breath as his stubble grazed your neck. “Like vanilla… something sweet.”

Bucky let out a dark, huffed laugh, his grip tightening to let you know he wasn’t letting go. “What’d I say? A pretty girl taking care of us… ain’t this the dream? Makes you wanna keep her all to ourselves.”

Your breath hitched and your gaze dropped, looking down at Bucky as he sat between your legs. Through the thin fabric of your clothes, you could feel the heat of his body, but it was the sight of his heavy denim that made your heart skip a beat.

The friction of your bodies pressed together had clearly taken its toll because a prominent, hard bulge was straining against the fly of his jeans, mere inches from your legs.

Before you could even process the sight, you felt Steve shift behind you. He leaned his weight into your back, his large hands firmly placed on your hips. Then, he gave a subtle and slow rock of his hips, pressing his own growing hardness firmly against you from behind.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Steve whispered against your ear, his deep voice making your legs tremble. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s just… you guys are—” you swallowed nervously, embarrassment rushing to your face. “Hard.”

Bucky chuckled lowly, his hand coming down to palm himself through his jeans.

“Do you want us to stop, baby? We can stop—” he groaned, palming himself even harder as he looked at you with hungry eyes. “We’re good boys. We’ll stop if you want us to. We can behave. Right, Stevie?”

Steve was behind you, getting bolder with his movements as he rocked his hips deeper against the curve of your ass.

“Yes,” he grunted. “We’re good. Very good boys.”

Their hands continued roaming over your body eagerly. Bucky’s breath grew heavier as he touched himself through his pants, and the feel of Steve’s rock-hard erection pressing against you while he planted soft kisses on your neck was enough to make your head spin.

The whole kitchen reeked of lust, like there was spell in the air that only made you want them more and more.

“D-don’t stop,” you breathed, your eyes hazy with desire. “This is the least I can do to pay you guys back, right?”

Steve let out a sharp sigh and Bucky groaned so deeply—it was practically a growl.

Bucky pushed himself off his chair, his movements powerful and sudden as he crowded into your space. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe before his mouth crashed onto yours.

His kiss wasn’t gentle or patient; it was hungry and demanding, and you could taste the faint, bitter tang of the beer from earlier. His tongue swept against yours, a low, possessive sound vibrating in his throat as his hands moved from your waist to cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing over your burning cheeks.

Now that Bucky was standing, Steve was able to press even closer, his large body a solid wall of heat against your back. His hands, now wrapped in the gauze from your careful work, slid upward from your hips.

One hand splayed across your stomach, bunching the fabric of your dress beneath his fingers as he pulled you firmly against his hips, rocking into you. Meanwhile, his other hand moved higher, his fingers groping your tits through the thin material.

Steve buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. “So good,” he murmured against your skin. “You fit so perfectly between us, sweetheart.”

You were drowning between them—lost in the friction of Bucky’s tongue and the way Steve’s hands explored your curves from behind. Your senses were completely overwhelmed. Every time Bucky tilted your head to deepen the kiss, Steve would find a new patch of skin on your neck to mark with his lips, leaving you gasping into Bucky’s mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Bucky groaned against your lips.

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers locking firmly with yours. He guided your hand down between your bodies, pressing your palm directly over the hard, straining heat of his denim. You could feel him twitch beneath your fingertips.

“Touch us, baby,” Bucky groaned, rocking his hips into your hand, his voice desperate. “Don’t be shy now. You wanted to take care of us, didn’t you?”

The friction of your palm against him made his eyes roll back for a second. Steve let out a low, approving growl against your neck. He reached around, his own hand covering yours, adding his strength to the movement as he pressed your hand even firmer against Bucky.

“That’s it,” Steve encouraged, his breath hitching as he watched your hand work. “Look at how tiny your hand looks against him. You like that, don’t you? Feeling so small and helpless between us?”

Bucky’s head fell back, his jaw tight as he fought for air. “God, Stevie…” he moaned. “Help her—guide her hand against me—fuck, just like that…”

Steve’s hand tightened over yours, his movements guiding the friction of your palm against Bucky’s heat. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear; his voice was a gravelly, commanding rumble.

“Get on your knees and take care of my best friend, would ya?”

“O…okay…”

You sank to the floor, the wood cool and hard against your skin as you settled between Bucky’s boots. He let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately finding your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands to tilt your head back so he could look down at you with raw, uncontrollable hunger.

But you weren’t alone on the floor for long. You felt the floorboards groan as Steve knelt directly behind you, his massive frame shielding you from the rest of the room. His large hands slid under the hem of your dress, gathering the fabric upward until it was bunched around your waist, leaving your skin bare to the kitchen air.

As you reached for Bucky’s belt, your fingers fumbling slightly with the heavy leather, you felt Steve’s hand slide between your thighs. His thumb dragged across your clothed clit with a slow, agonizing pressure that made your back arch and your head drop onto Bucky’s lap.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Steve taunted from behind you with a low, condescending laugh. His other hand came around to cup breasts—teasing your nipple through your dress, holding you steady as his thumb continued to work you. “Take it off him. He’s been waiting all day.”

With a sharp tug, you finally eased Bucky’s jeans down. When he finally sprang free, the sight made the air leave your lungs in a sharp gasp. He was thick and heavy, his skin taut and pulsing with a heat you could feel even before you touched him.

Bucky let out a low groan at the sensation of being exposed, his hands tightening in your hair. He seemed to preen under your shocked gaze, his hips giving a small, instinctive twitch towards your face.

Steve chuckled darkly behind you. His hand was still buried between your thighs, and as his thumb made another slow, heavy pass over you, he felt the sudden, hot gush of moisture through your panties that coated his fingers.

“Fuck, Bucky. Look at that. It’s like she got even wetter just seeing how big you are.”

Bucky reached down, his fingers trembling as he cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Is that right, darlin’?” he chuckled, his thumb catching on your bottom lip. “You like what you see?”

“Think you can fit me in your tiny little mouth, baby?” Bucky challenged. You watched as his cock throbbed, the tip already leaking and eager to be inside your mouth.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t sure if you could; you had spent a handful of nights with men in the city, but none of them were of… this size.

“I don’t know,” you admitted embarrassingly, your hand coming up to circle his shaft. “But I’ll try—”

Growing impatient, he pressed the head of his cock against the seal of your lips, the warmth making your heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” Bucky reassured, breathing hard above you as he began pushing past your lips. “Steve will help you. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You weren’t sure what he meant by having Steve help you, but he didn’t give you much room to think or ask anyway. He probed his length more firmly against your lips, forcing you to open up. You began taking in as much of his thick length as you could manage, your tongue swirling around the broad head as you started to bob your head rhythmically.

“Fuuuuck, that’s it,” Bucky hissed.

His hands stayed firmly anchored in your hair, his knuckles white as he held you in place. Behind you, Steve became even more relentless. You felt his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, tugging them aside until he could slide two fingers deep into your slick heat.

“God—you’re accepting me so easily, baby. Bet you’ve been wantin’ this from the moment we picked you up, huh?” Steve whispered, kissing your ear as he continued to work his fingers inside you.

“Jesus—Steve, I wish you could feel how warm her fuckin’ mouth is,” Bucky moaned, tossing his head back while giving you shallow, sharp thrusts. “This—this is incredible…”

The dual sensation was a sensory overload of pleasure—the feeling of Bucky stretching your mouth while Steve’s fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot with every rhythmic movement of his hand.

“More… more…” Bucky groaned, his voice breaking as he tilted his hips up to meet you halfway. He was desperate, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches.

“You hear that, baby? He wants more,” Steve said.

He wasn’t just watching anymore.

His desire to see his best friend satisfied was overriding his patience.

You let out a small, muffled whimper of protest against Bucky’s shaft, your eyes watering as you reached your limit, but Steve didn’t let you pull away. He placed his large, heavy palm on the back of your head and…

… firmly pushed you down against Bucky’s cock.

Your eyes went wide as you took Bucky deeper than you thought possible, his length hitting the very back of your throat. He let out a sound that was half of a groan and a sob—a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the kitchen. He bucked his hips upward, losing all composure as he finally found the depth he’d been craving.

“Fuck—oh my god,” Bucky gasped, his eyes rolling back. “Just like that—keep her head down, Stevie—shit. Feels too damn good!”

The kitchen was filled with the lewd sounds of his ragged, uncontrolled breathing and the wet slide of your mouth working over him. Steve’s fingers were moving just as frantically inside you now, his rhythm matching the desperate pace of Bucky’s thrusts.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take it all,” Steve growled from behind you. “Keep your eyes open. Look at him. You’ve got him falling apart. Give him everything.”

Bucky’s eyes were blown wide, staring down at you with overwhelming lust.

“Fuck, Steve… she’s perfect. Her mouth—so tight… so warm,” he gasped, his voice cracking. He began to thrust more wildly, his hips snapping forward as he searched for that final bit of release.

“I’m gonna—fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Don’t you dare stop. Steve, hold her head. She’s gonna swallow every drop for me.”

“Do it, Buck,” Steve encouraged, his thumb hitting your clit with a press that sent sparks through your vision. “Fill her mouth up. Show her how much we needed this.”

Bucky finally snapped.

He bucked his hips hard against your face, his entire body shuddering as he began to pulse deep in your mouth. You whimpered, your hands gripping his thighs for balance as you felt the hot, heavy waves of his release hitting the back of your throat, making you choke around his shaft.

“Christ—God, her mouth is so warm… shit, Steve. You hear her chokin’ around me? She can barely swallow it down!”

“She’s fluttering all over my fingers too, Buck,” Steve groaned. “She’s gonna cum—I can feel it.”

Bucky finally pulled his cock out of your mouth with a wet, sloppy pop, his release dribbling down your chin as you fought for breath. Your head was dizzy from how brutally he had used your mouth and how deeply Steve was fingering you.

“Steve,” you gasped. “Don’t stop—please. Don’t stop—!”

But Steve didn’t give you the release you were begging for.

He abruptly curled his fingers and pulled them out of you with a sharp, wet sound that left you feeling cold and aching. You let out a cry of frustration, your hips twitching involuntarily to the space where his hand had just been.

Steve stood up, the floorboards creaking under his massive weight. He didn’t look satisfied. If anything, watching Bucky use you had only made him look more predatory. His hands went straight to his belt, the leather creaking as he unbuckled it impatiently.

“You don’t cum until you please the both of us first, darlin’,” Steve commanded.

“Steve, please,” you whined, turning around so that your hands tugged at his jeans. “I was so close.” You looked at Bucky next, frowning. “Bucky?”

“He ain’t gonna help you, baby,” Steve said. “On the table,” he ordered, nodding to the sturdy wooden surface where the medical supplies had been scattered. “Get up there and show us how much you want it. Lay on your back for me.”

Bucky was still catching his breath, leaning against the counter with a dazed, satisfied smirk.

“You heard him, baby,” he rasped, his voice still rough from his climax. “Better be a good girl and please him well.”

With your face burning in embarrassment and two sets of eyes watching your every move, you crawled onto the table, your panties soaked and dripping between your thighs. You slowly settled down on your back, with Steve standing before you and Bucky making his way to the other side.

Steve stepped up, reaching down and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, stripping them down your legs and tossing them onto the kitchen floor.

As soon as you were bare, he stepped into the space between your thighs, the heavy, scorching weight of his cock poking against your entrance. He was even longer than Bucky—not quite as thick, perhaps, but still more than big enough to stretch you to your absolute limit.

“Look at you,” Steve murmured, staring at you with hazy eyes as he stroked his length. “Look how ready you are for me.”

Bucky stepped closer, jeans still around his ankles, as he gripped his own half-hard length. He jerked himself off with slow, heavy pumps, his gaze fixed on Steve as he prepared to take you. With his free hand, Bucky grabbed the hem of your dress and hiked it all the way up to your neck, exposing your breasts to the cool air and their burning gazes.

“So pretty,” Bucky whispered in awe, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He leaned over, his fingers gently playing with your nipples as you whimpered and squirmed on the table, caught between the two of them.

Your heels dug into the wood of the table as you arched your back, the friction of Steve’s heat against your entrance making you whine. You were desperate for the fullness, your body burning with an unfinished ache that Steve was intentionally prolonging.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hands reaching out to grab Steve’s muscular forearms. “Steve, please... I need it.”

“Jesus,” Bucky rasped, his eyes dark with a mix of affection and hunger. “She’s so damn cute when she’s begging like this. Make it last, okay? I want to see our girl come apart nice and slow.”

“I’ll try,” Steve managed, his voice strained. He slowly pushed the broad head of his cock past your folds, stretching you open just enough to make you gasp before he pulled back, teasing the very edge of your sanity.

“Steve—please! Stop with the teasing, I can’t—” you begged, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Steve’s jaw clenched tight as he hissed through his teeth. “I know, baby girl. I know.”

Deep down, he wasn’t intentionally trying to tease you. The feel of your wet tightness already clamping down on him made him remember how long it had been since he’d fucked anything other than his own hand.

And it meant that, despite Bucky’s request, he likely wouldn’t be lasting nearly as long as he wanted to.

He slowly pushed in deeper and deeper, each inch making you gasp and arch your back off the table as you tried to adjust to his size.

“F-fuck, Steve!” you moaned.

Finally, he bottomed out completely inside you, his massive weight pressing you down into the sturdy wood of the table. Every time he slammed his hips forward, the medical supplies rattled and the table groaned under the force.

“Fuck, too tight,” he hissed.

His big arms circled your frame, holding you tightly as he began fucking you with a desperate, frantic hunger.

“God, you’re so tight,” Steve repeated, “so fucking warm.”

Bucky was right there, leaning over the side of the table to catch every detail. The sight of Steve losing his usual composure—seeing his best friend’s broad back muscles tensing and rippling as he drove into you—had Bucky’s cock snapping back to full attention for a second round.

He jerked himself off faster, his eyes darting between your flushed face and the place where Steve was disappearing inside you.

“Tell me how tight she is, Steve,” Bucky urged.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Buck,” Steve groaned. “She’s squeezin’ me so good—it’s just like you said… a nice, smooth pair of legs wrapped tight around my waist. Fuck—it’s going to be so hard to pull out.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened at Steve’s words, the blue turning to a stormy midnight black. His cock was twitching and pulsing in his hand, slick with his own pre-cum and the lingering wetness from your mouth as he watched Steve’s massive body hammer into yours.

“Pump her full, Steve,” Bucky growled. “Breed her. Fill her up so damn deep she can’t think about anything or anyone else—until she thinks only about us.”

“B-breed…?” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back.

Your head spun at the words. The thought of Steve’s cum filling you— of that thick, heavy seed flooding your core while Bucky watched—sent a violent jolt of overwhelming pleasure through your body.

You felt your walls contract, clamping down on Steve’s length—milking him so hard that it made him choke on his own breath.

“B-Buck…” Steve gasped, his pace becoming erratic. He was losing the fight for control. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he felt your climax beginning to roll over him. “She’s so close… God, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside her,” Bucky urged, leaning in close until his breath hitched against your ear. “Fill her up and make her our girl, Stevie. Pump her so full she’ll never want anyone else.”

The command from Bucky was the final blow to Steve’s restraint.

With a low, hungry roar that vibrated against your chest, Steve bucked. He rocked his hips into you one last time, pinning you to the table with his full weight as he bottomed out.

“Christ, take it, sweetheart! Oh—fuck, take it—”

His body went rigid as he began to pour himself into you. You felt the hot, thick jets of his release hit the very back of your womb. It felt like he was never going to stop—years of pent-up sexual frustration finally rearing its head.

Your mind fractured. The internal pressure of him, combined with the mental image of being bred, sent you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Steve! I’m—I’m gonna cum—!” you screamed into the crook of his neck, your walls seizing and pulsing in a violent, uneven rhythm that milked him for every last drop.

“Fuck—yes—take it all, baby,” Steve groaned, his voice jagged as he shuddered against you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder.

Bucky stood before you, panting as he watched the liquid evidence of Steve’s climax begin to seep out and coat your thighs. Seeing you stretched and filled by his best friend was too much; with his own cock already hard again, he was more than ready for round two.

And this time, he wanted to be the one inside.

Steve slowly pulled out of you, the sound of the wet, suctioning release loud against the heavy breathing between the three of you. You let out a broken gasp, your body feeling hollow and sensitive as the cool air hit where his heat had just been. A thick trail of his release began to spill over your thighs, coating the wooden table beneath you.

Steve leaned down, his eyes a bit softer than they were before, reaching out to hook his arms under yours to help you up. “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned—”

“Move aside, Steve.”

Bucky’s voice was like a whip crack.

He stomped over, his boots heavy on the floor, and physically brushed Steve’s hands away from you. There was no gentleness left in him now; his jaw was set, and his eyes were fixed on the mess Steve had left behind.

“Bucky?” you asked softly, trying to catch your breath. “Are you okay—?”

“I’m not done with her,” Bucky growled.

Before you could reply, he grabbed your hips and flipped you over. Your face was pressed down into the hard, cool wood of the table, your cheek flat against the surface as he forced your ass up high.

“B-Buck—!”

Without warning, Bucky lined himself up against your puffy slit, and in one aggressive motion, he buried himself deep in your overstimulated heat. You let out a muffled shriek against the table as he began to fuck you doggy-style, one hand pinning your head down while his other gripped your waist tightly.

“Fuck!” Bucky barked, biting his lip. “She is tight, Steve. Fuckin’ hell… like a tight, warm and wet fist wrapped around my cock.”

“Bucky—haaah, I… It’s too much—fuck—oh!”

The friction was almost too much to bear. You were a babbling, overstimulated mess, your voice reduced to broken sobs and incoherent pleas against the wood of the table.

With every heavy, bottoming-out thrust, you could feel Bucky physically pushing Steve’s cum deeper into your core. It was a strange, overwhelming sensation—the feeling of being claimed by one man while the other’s mark was forced even further inside you.

Steve stood by the side of the table, his chest still heaving as he watched. He looked genuinely surprised, a small, breathless huff of laughter escaping him as he watched Bucky go to work. “Christ, Buck... you're still going? Fuck. You’re ruinin’ her.”

Bucky only grunted like an animal in response as he gripped your waist tighter, rocking his hips even harder.

You were a drooling, slutty mess on the table, and the pathetic sight made Steve smile softly at you in sympathy. He reached out, his large hand stroking your sweat-dampened hair away from your face. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple while Bucky hammered into your hips from behind.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Steve whispered, his voice a soothing balm against Bucky’s relentless pace. “Just let him in, darlin’. Such a good girl, taking him so deep for us. Just breathe through it for me.”

“Stevie,” you whined, your voice pitching higher. “He’s so th—thick… he’s stretching me so much…”

“I know, baby,” Steve murmured. You weren’t sure if his words were meant to soothe you, but his tone was shifting, becoming almost condescending—as if your overstimulated state was exactly where he wanted you.

He watched with a possessive sheen in his eyes as Bucky’s hips continued to batter against you. “Cum inside her, Bucky. Fill her up.”

Bucky let out a ragged, disbelieving laugh between the loud creaks of the table. “Shit, Stevie… you want me to knock her up too?”

Steve just kept stroking your hair, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear. “It’s just like you said—a pretty girl like her staying home and takin’ care of us. Don’t you want that, Buck? To see her round, glowin’, and barefoot? Somethin’ about keepin’ the house warm?”

The rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts faltered for a split second before becoming twice as violent. A low, needy sound escaped him.

“Fuck… I want that so bad. More than anythin’. Shit.”

Bucky leaned down, his chest crushing against your back, his voice sending tingles down your spine. “I’m going to breed her. She’s stayin’ here with us, Stevie. We’re makin’ her ours for good.”

The thought should’ve terrified you, but as you lay there pinned between them, lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated lust, the idea only turned you on even more. Your only concern now was whether you could even contain Bucky’s release inside you.

“I—I don’t think I can,” you babbled against the table, your words slipping out between broken gasps. “…take it… take Bucky’s cum… I—”

Steve didn’t let your panic spiral. He leaned down further, his large, warm hand moving from your hair to cup your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head so he could look you in the eye.

“Yes, you can, sweetheart,” Steve cooed. “You’re made for this. You’re made for us. Just relax those pretty muscles and let him in.”

He then pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his thumb stroking your cheekbone even as Bucky’s pace turned frantic.

“Look at her, Buck,” Steve whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “She’s worried she can’t hold it all. Tell her what you’re gonna do.”

Bucky let out a choked, desperate sound, his fingers digging into your hips. “I’m gonna fill her to the brim,” he rasped, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “I’m gonna fill her so full she’ll leak all over the table.”

Another needy moan tore from his chest. “G-gonna knock her up until there’s—fuck— atleast one brunette and one blonde baby runnin’ around the house, Stevie.”

At Bucky’s nasty words, your walls spasmed, clenching around him as your second orgasm finally shattered. You let out a high, broken cry against the table, your vision sparking white as you came right along with him—completely spent, completely undone.

With a final, sloppy, and shaky thrust, Bucky fucked into you one last time. He groaned your name as his body locked up. You felt the first hot stream of his release hit you, and your eyes went wide as he began to pump himself empty.

He held you pinned to the table, his weight crushing you down, ensuring that every drop of his heat was forced deep into the space Steve had already claimed. “Yes, yes—that’s it…!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve praised, his voice thick with pride. He watched the way your body jolted with every pulse of Bucky’s climax. “Takin’ it all, keepin’ it all inside for us. Such a good, fertile little thing.”

Bucky stayed heavy against you for a long time, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

Slowly, he eventually began to pull out. You let out a small, needy whimper at the loss of his heat, your body feeling heavy and thoroughly used. A thick, creamy mixture of both men began to spill out of you, making a mess of your inner thighs and dripping onto the dark wood of the table. He hooked his arm under your waist and gently pulled you back against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

“Look at that,” Bucky rasped, his voice rough with post-coital bliss as he looked down at the mess they had made of you. He pressed a firm, possessive kiss to the top of your head. “You’re ours now, pretty girl. Every inch of you.”

Steve moved in from the side, his expression soft as he watched the two of you. He leaned down and wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Our best girl,” Steve echoed softly, his large hand coming to rest over your stomach, splaying wide and possessive.

“We’re gonna take such good care of you. You’re never going anywhere else.”

I am so sorry about the massive wordcount. I got carried away at the end w/ all of the smut 🚬 anyways, credits to @earthsmightiestbenders for helping me come up with this massive filth of a line:

“G-gonna knock her up until there’s—fuck— atleast one brunette and one blonde baby runnin’ around the house, Stevie.”

aux ⟋ metal gods by judas priest

jeff stands by the amp, fiddling with the connector to his guitar. every time corroded coffin plays here, it gets harder and harder to find the sweet spot with the wires. beside him, gareth gestures different positions of the wrist for him to try. they grunt and groan together as the amp hisses to life before it dies once again.

eddie sighs, fingers pressed against his temples. he did not just spend the last three hours scrubbing down tables at the hideout for the amps to be what keeps him from playing tonight.

he pushes them aside and takes a firm grasp onto the wire before mumbling a quick prayer and shoving it into the jack. it hums alive, and this time, stays that way. eddie lets out a breath he didn't know what was holding. the shows back on.

although, saying 'show' would be quite the overstatement. nobody ever comes to the hideout, which is kind of the point. even if the audience is a bunch of wasted dudes who could not care less about the music, an audience is an audience. it's a chance for eddie to play in front of people. whether or not they're actually listening isn't as important.

"get a move on," bev calls from behind the counter. she's wiping down a glass with the towel eddie just used to scrub the counters. cross contamination is just a part of the charm at the hideout.

eddie plugs in his own guitar with ease and gareth gets comfortable at the drums. he twirls around the sticks in his fingers, his head nodding to a song playing in his head. eddie takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, the grip against the mic stand tight.

eddie does this every week, if he's lucky, and it still scares the shit out of him without fail. standing on this extremely wobbly stage only shows eddie what he could be, under different circumstances of course. different circumstances as in being a different person.

gareth slams down the sticks onto the head of the drums and eddie snaps into rocker mode, his hands moving down to his guitar before his mind can even register that the song has started. his fingers run against the strings, its vibration running through his veins and to his heart.

whenever he plays, he becomes one with his instrument, whatever that may be. it's impossible to describe to someone who doesn't play. he hates it when people call it 'an extension of their own hand' because it's so much more than that. the guitar has a mind of its own, eddies just the paint brush. and oh how art is made in the studio.

tonight is one of those nights where corroded coffin hones in on the music and joins together in mind and body, the sound and song take over to create what eddie believes is true rock. it's not perfect, in fact he doesn't think they've ever played a song perfectly at the hideout. sometimes jeff misses a note or eddie fumbles the lyrics, but it doesn't matter. perfection isn't needed to connect on this level.

time rushes past and by the time the last song comes to an end, beads of sweat run down his forehead and stick in his hair. he huffs out breaths, trying to pull in air faster than what's possible. he stares out through his eyelashes as an unfamiliar sound rings out.

applause.

he tilts his head in confusion as his eyes follow the sound. his face falls when he realizes it's you.

how did you know about this place? how did you know he would be here? why did you care enough to come? did you really like it enough to clap?

millions of thoughts rush though his head, but they all stop right when he identifies the feeling that concludes. his heart beats faster than it ever has and he's more out of breath than he was when the song first ended. he's clutching the neck of the guitar as if it could fall off the shoulder strap at any moment.

gareth cheers at the audience, or the only audience that matters, and jeff lays his guitar by the amp and jumps off the stage. he jogs over to you. eddie furrows his brows.

"what's jeff doing with that girl?" eddie asks without realizing.

gareth chuckles, "yesterday she asked us where we were playing. great right?"

before eddie can ask any follow up questions, gareth hurries to join you and jeff. he can't help but stare as you gush at his band from across the room. the only one who's excited to hear them play and the only opinion that eddie even cares about.

slowly, he takes his guitar off and sits it down next to jeff's. he inserts himself into the conversation as quickly as possible.

"you guys were so amazing," your voice warms him to his core, shooting out butterflies into his stomach.

eddie props his arm against a bar stool, "you think so?"

he meant it to come out as an 'i don't really care' flirty kind of tone but in reality it sounded more like 'my ego is in your hands.' as true as that is, he'd rather you not know about that.

"yes, of course," you nod, "did you write those songs?"

jeff can't help but laugh, "you've never heard metal bands before?"

eddie elbows him in the rib, "we're more of a cover band, but sometimes we do originals."

you giggle softly, "my bad, i guess i'm not really cultured enough to talk music with you guys."

he waves his hand, "nah, you're good."

"maybe you could introduce me to some artists?" you add.

eddie can feel the shock radiating off of jeff and gareth beside him, but he doesn't even register it. you just asked him for song recommendations. he swallows hard.

"yeah, yeah sure," his words stumble out, "i can do that."

you giggle, your hand comes up to your mouth, "oh really?"

his heart skips a beat inside his chest as you speak. your eyes meet his and for a moment the two of you just stare. he memorizes the lines in your irises, the way the colors meet and swirl around like magic.

suddenly, you startle as something bumps by you. eddie lets out an annoyed breath. one of the drunks needs another hit of alcohol. he glares hard at the guy, but he doesn't even notice that he hit someone.

"here," his arm wraps around you, "let's just go outside and talk."

you nod and the two of you start to walk towards the side entrance door. eddie always comes in this way, it's less conspicuous. you'll be able to talk there just fine.

he looks over his shoulder and points towards the stage, "can you guys pack up?"

they give two thumbs up and rush over to the stage, giggling like children. eddie knows he's in for it later, they're all going to annoy the shit out of him over this. he can picture it now. but that isn't important, you're here.

he pushes open the door for you and the two of you slip out and into the darkness. crickets chirp around you and the wind howls softly. bev has not yet replaced the storm light, so the only thing illuminating the area is the moon.

"you played beautifully, eddie," you smile, "though, it didn't sound entirely like classical music."

eddies face softens, "what do you mean? that was the classiest of classical music."

you laugh, that beautiful laugh eddie would do anything to hear on repeat. you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you peer down at your shoes which he's confident you can't even see in the darkness. are you nervous?

"i wish i knew about this sooner, i would have come every time."

his gaze falls on you and his eyes narrow, trying to read in between your words to find their true meaning. in the back of his mind, he's still trying to find the joke, waiting for you to just push him away and say he was a fool for believing that he could actually spend time with an angel when he's just a freak.

your eyes never waiver though. no evil smile, no laugh, a group of people don't come out of the bushes with bats. it's just you, staring up at him like you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. eddie can't make a joke out of this moment like he always does. he's speachless.

"i wish i told you," he admits.

you rub his arm softly, "i understand why you didn't."

eddie hasn't been understood on this level since his mom was around. it evokes an emotion inside of him he isn't prepared to deal with yet. he doesn't know what to do, so he just goes on instinct.

he inches closer to you and his arms hover over your waist. his intentions set as he waits for you to make your move.

it feels like forever before you close the space between. your arms wrap around his neck and he plants his hands on your waist, mostly to keep from falling over in shock. your lips are soft and warm. he melts into you as he kisses like you're the only thing that can save him.

your fingers run though his hair. an electric shock shoots through his veins and to his mind and suddenly he's more alive than he's ever been before. he doesn't realize he's pressed up against the wall of the hideout until the cold brick seeps through his thin tee.

your bodies fit together perfectly, your lips come together like puzzle pieces. he pulls you closer to him by his grip around your waist. you let out a soft whine at his touch and eddie nearly dies. it's almost too perfect.

but the moment you break the kiss, a familiar feeling crawls its way back into eddies mind.

fear.

◦  ◦  ◦

you drove back home as quickly as possible. your mom didn't say you could be out this late considering that you never really told her you had left in the first place...

your heart still pounds in your chest and you know it isn't from the anxiety of being out past curfew. you just kissed, borderline made out with, eddie munson, the untouchable masterpiece thats always been a life away. you can still feel him on your lips, you can still taste the beer. you savor it.

when you get home, you sneak inside as best as you can. you haven't really had the need to know how to do anything like this, but you're good at being quiet. moms sitting on the couch, watching the newest episode of whatever she's into right now. quickly, you hurry past her and to the hallway. a relieved breath escapes you

"where have you been?" dustin stares at you, eyes thin.

you bite your lip, "the library."

"uh huh," he looks you up and down, "then where's your bag?"

"i forgot it..." you pray that he'll just drop it.

he crosses his arms like a disappointed parent, "just tell me."

"i just went to see a friend."

his eyes widen, "is it that guy you bring over sometimes?"

you smack him with the sleeve of your jacket, "yes, now quit it."

you slide past him and sneak into your room, pushing the door shut behind you. you groan when you don't hear the satisfying click of a closed door. you plop onto the edge of you bed and watch as dustin rushes in and sits at your desk. he looks at you longingly, waiting for the story.

"well, come on," he urges, "tell me everything."

you roll your eyes, "i will not."

his eyebrows raise, "so.. you...?"

"no!" you shout, immediately covering your mouth at how loudly you said that.

dustin laughs, "i cannot believe you, [name]."

"oh can it, dusty," you groan, "i went to see his band play."

"he has a band!?" dustin cheers.

you nod, "and they're very good."

"well, i approve."

your eyebrows furrow, "approve of what?"

"the marriage, duh," he rolls his eyes.

"oh my god, you little brat," you stand up.

before you can do anything, he's already slipping out of your room and shutting the door behind him. you bite your lip as you stare down at your desk. romeo and juliet lays open, bookmarked in the middle from earlier today when you had found that eddie left little notes along the margins. you'd been so excited, the picture sets in your mind. you smile to yourself softly, running your fingers along the paper.

that smile fades fast as a truth sets in. you realize how real it's gotten. he's not just someone you stare at in the hallway or help from the sidelines, he's actually there. you could mess this up. even worse, you're not just his tutor anymore. you're blurring the lines of the rules you set up from day one to keep this from happening.

you're scared, genuinely.

    my masterlist

𖦹 do not reproduce, distribute, or use my work to train artificial intelligence, all rights reserved.

index ⟋ next chp →

𖦹 thank you for reading !

Part One

the beginning

Chapter One: The Day It Rained Fire

Chapter Two: Harsh Reality

Chapter Three: Truth

Chapter Four: A Girl Who Cried Wolf

Chapter Five: The Cabin

Chapter Six: Don't Trust The Voices

Chapter Seven: Surviving Is Fantasy

Chapter Eight: Never Be Distracted

Chapter Nine: An Alliance Or A Mistake?

Chapter Ten: Part One: The Lab

Chapter Ten: Part Two: An Ode To The Complicated

Chapter Eleven: Once Bitten

Chapter Twelve: Down The Rabbit Hole

Part Two

uʍop ǝpᴉsdn ǝɥʇ

Chapter Thirteen: Three Weeks Later

Chapter Fourteen: We're Running Out Of Time

Chapter Fifteen: Sattler’s Quarry

Chapter Sixteen: The Pattern

incoming signal from the upside down...

Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me

Part Three

the divide

Video Teaser

Chapter Eighteen: Safe

Chapter Nineteen: The Bitter Taste Of Deceit

Chapter Twenty: Friend Or Foe, Part I

Chapter Twenty-One: Friend Or Foe, Part II

Chapter Twenty-Two: Escapism

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Forgotten and the Remembered

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Mole

Chapter Twenty-Five: When Hope Holds Its Breath

Chapter Twenty-Six: Blind Followers new!

Extras

GOH: The Characters

Contents -

♕ One | Flirting with Fire | 3.2k words

♕ Two | Edge of Control | 2.9k words

♕ Three | High Stakes | 2.5k words

♕ Four | Sweet Ruin | 3.4k words

♕ Five | Legacies | 2.3k words

♕ Six | A Silk Leash | 2.2k words

♕ Seven | Cornered | 3.1k words

♕ Eight | Giving In | 3.1k words

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - This series will include content warnings at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

Clearly, you all thought I did something right with the first poly fic—so here we are with the second one, created by your requests! The plot was shaped by your votes in a poll (though I took some creative liberties x)

This is a mafia AU featuring the boys and our feisty youngest Vanserra daughter as rivals, with plenty of teasing, snark, banter... and yes, smut. Expect tension, rivalry, and all the high-stakes drama you love :)

“Look, I’m gonna tell people we fucked, so you might as well just come upstairs with me.” The idiot crooned, as if he were making a tempting offer.

Eddie’s brows furrowed in disgust, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach, a scared voice in the back of his mind telling him to intervene before the situation in front of him got out of hand. But the sound of a bitterly sarcastic laugh stopped him in his tracks.

“If you tell your friends you fucked me, I’ll tell the entire school how small and useless that thing between your legs is. And I can be very detailed.”

The jock flinched, finally taking a step back from the girl and allowing Eddie to see the fiery look on her face that made even him take a cautious step backwards. 

“Come on baby-”

“Don’t fucking try me, Dave. Piss off.” She interrupted sharply, staring venomously at the jock, as if she could will him six feet under with a mere gaze. 

The jock scoffed as he finally backed away, muttering a petulant curse at her expense under his breath as he sulked back to the party. 

Eddie was left to stand in the dark backyard, his face slack with shock at the way the situation had turned on its head, at the way she so effortlessly stripped the douchebag of all spirit. 

In the darkness of the dimly lit patio recognition settled over him. He remembered when she moved to Hawkins, when his awkward, seventh grade self developed an even more awkward and childish crush on the shy new girl, one that never developed into anything but had merely retreated to the back of his mind.

He found himself blushing as he looked at her a little too long, her beauty making his already loud mind go a little crazier.

He remembered the moment he heard her quiet voice tell him ‘good job’ as he and his band walked off the stage of the talent show, leaving behind a symphony of awkward and unsure claps and scattered boos. 

She was someone he had admired for years and her venomous tongue was one he was both enamored by and terrified of. She was fiercely sharp and while it turned him on to no end, it was also what made him keep his distance in fear of ever finding himself on the receiving end of one of her cold scowls. 

She was icy and standoffish, the reason he never invited her to join his ragtag group of outcasts like he normally would for someone sitting alone and rejected by the popular crowd. It was something he toiled with for years.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward slowly, mustering up the courage to finally speak to her. “Are you ok?” 

Her eyes met his and he froze, his breath catching in his throat. He didn’t even think she knew he existed and to have her full attention on him so suddenly made his stomach twist with nerves. 

“I’m fine.” She replied coldly as she crossed her arms over her chest protectively. Her eyes fell to his hands and she shifted slightly. “You mind sparing one?” 

“No, no, of course not.” He fumbled for his pack of cigarettes and stepped closer to her to hold one out to her, close enough to smell the intoxicating scent of her perfume. 

“Thanks.” She mumbled quietly, her gaze averting from him once again, though his heart continued to race.

He watched, feeling completely out of his element, as she lit up one of his cigarettes. He watched the delicate way her lips curled around the cancer stick and as they parted enticingly with a puff of smoke. 

He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. 

“I’m sorry about what that guy said to you, it’s fucked up.”

Her expression turned cold again and her gaze turned icy as she glared up at him. “I said I’m fine.”

With those stern words she turned on her heel and stomped back into the house, leaving him alone in the dark backyard. 

Eddie let out a long breath and hung his head. 

She was complicated, more complex than he was qualified to ever figure out. But even knowing his chances with her were most likely in the negatives, it didn’t lessen his affection for her. 

He admired her fire and he was drawn to it every time he saw it ignite. Despite her icy demeanor, he was intrigued, wanting nothing more than to attempt to get close to her, to gain her attention that he’d been craving since he was an awkward twelve year old who felt seen with one little compliment from her.

He’d probably make a fool out of himself in the process, but that wasn’t exactly new to him.

By Monday, his eyes fell effortlessly onto her - like they did most days - as she made her way through the crowded cafeteria, ignoring the judging looks from the table of cheerleaders she passed by. Eddie watched, irritation suddenly washing over him as some douchebag from the basketball team approached her, his smile charming as he schmoozed her.

Eddie’s expression twisted, the harsh reminder that there were much more popular guys who wanted her making his shoulders slump in defeat. 

“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked, staring up at his Dungeon Master in confusion at what had put the sour look on his face.

Eddie just hummed vaguely in response and his eyes torturously fell back to her.

He watched as the jerk’s hands fell to her waist and slowly lowered, tantalizingly close to her ass in some idiotic form of flirting. Irritation quickly turned to rage and he felt his foot twitch, seconds from getting to his feet to storm over and rip that asshole's hand from her - most likely getting his ass beat in the process, but he wasn’t exactly thinking that far ahead. 

He hadn’t even been able to stand before she had taken matters into her own hands - as she always did - and tilted her lunch tray, letting the food fall to the floor carelessly and smacked the obnoxious jock across the face with the tray.

Eddie could’ve sworn he was in love there and then. He was sure if anyone had been looking at him he would’ve had hearts surrounding his head and stars in his eyes. 

He watched, absolutely smitten as she was escorted to the principal’s office and his plan was in motion. Skipping the next period, he made his way towards the front office, pulling a sharpie out of his pocket. He looked up and down the hallways, usually to make sure he was in the clear and wasn’t about to get caught, but not this time.

He coughed loudly, gaining the attention of the secretary at the front desk. He smiled cheekily and quickly turned on his heel, hastily drawing devil horns and a forked tongue on the portrait of the captain of the basketball team that was displayed proudly.

“Mr. Munson!” A shrill voice cried out. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie turned around and pointed to himself as if to say ‘who, me?’, feigning innocence. 

It was almost too easy to land in detention nowadays. 

As he strolled into detention at the end of the day, he was delighted to see her slumped in a seat in the back row, staring out the window with a scowl. She looked up as he took the seat directly beside her, causing her to look at him coldly.

The dots connected and her brows furrowed further as she realized the one sitting next to her now was the same guy from the party who’d given her a cigarette. 

He smiled widely, his expression a direct contrast from hers, and held his hand out for her to shake.

“Hey, I’m Eddie.”

She looked at him incredulously before scoffing lightly. “I know who you are, Eddie.”

His chest tightened and his eyes widened in surprise and his hand fell to the desk in front of him. The thought that she’d known of his existence for all those years and hadn’t just ignored him completely like everyone else suddenly made him nervous. “Y-you do?” 

“We’ve been in school together since we were kids. Of course I know you.” 

He laughed and prayed to god it didn’t sound as pathetic and nervous to her as it did to his own ears. 

“Well, I’m a big fan of yours.”

She felt the urge to laugh, only allowing a brief twitch of her lips. She hadn’t really been thinking too clearly when she’d decked Jesse Parker in the middle of the cafeteria, she just wanted to get his hand off her ass as quickly as possible. 

“You saw that, huh?”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Honestly, I’d pay good money to watch that on a loop for the rest of my life.” 

She laughed slightly, though it was more of an amused sounding scoff, but the sound made his head spin.

She looked over at him, her eyes roaming over him curiously. Based on his outward appearance, she hadn’t been expecting such a charming smile to follow. 

She knew the bad rep he got, she knew the rumors that were whispered behind his back in crowded hallways, she knew he was public enemy number one in the eyes of the preppy popular crowd.

And she knew it was all bullshit. 

Seeing how Eddie was treated by the people at this school made her blood boil. It was exactly how people treated her and every other person who didn’t fit the traditional mold. It made her want to slam each and every one of those pompous assholes’ heads into lockers. So far she’d only done that to two cheerleaders this year and it was nowhere near enough.

For the duration of detention, Eddie tried to start a conversation, bringing up anything and everything he could think of in an effort to talk to her. 

But the one word answers and noncommittal hums she gave in response were making it difficult. 

He had asked her about her favorite movies, what music she listened to, what she thought of Mrs. Elgin’s latest assignment in history class and he was no closer to getting to know anything about her.

He was so desperate he was ready to ask her what her favorite color was. 

They had been sitting in silence for the last few minutes, Eddie anxiously tapping his fingers against his desk annoyingly. He felt the pull towards her, his eyes drinking her in as they did in every class they had together.

She could feel Eddie’s eyes on her. From the corner of her eye she watched as he looked at her and then moved his gaze back down to his hands at his desk and then, mere seconds later, looked back over at her. She felt her spine stiffen straighter each time until she finally turned her attention towards him. 

She felt something inside her soften at the way he cowered slightly at the sight of her hard glare. She didn’t mean to act like such a bitch, at least not to everyone, but she didn’t regret it enough to open up to anyone, so the fire inside her, the fire she threw at everyone around her, remained.

“What do you want?” She asked abruptly and Eddie’s eyes widened slightly, knowing he had been caught staring at her.

“Uhh…nothing… I-”

“Look, I don’t care if I ruined your chance at being a hero at that stupid party and you feel like you need to make it up to me, but you don’t owe me anything, ok? And I sure all hell don’t owe you shit either.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed in confusion at how quickly her neutral tone towards him had turned so cold. He didn’t understand what exactly she assumed he wanted from her, it certainly wasn’t to prove some masculine power over her. 

While he wouldn’t have minded knocking that asshole Dave on his ass for what he’d tried to do to her, he was more than happy to see that she had handled it all on her own. It had made him admire her even more. 

“No, no, that’s not- I wasn’t - I don’t need anything.” He stammered, his mind racing wildly as he tried to put a sentence together, but it was hard with that steely scowl of hers locked onto him.

He felt like she could melt his soul… and not in a good way.

Her eyes moved behind him to the clock and seeing that her time in hell was finally over, she hastily grabbed her things and stood from her seat, striding out of the room like it was on fire. 

“Shit.” Eddie hissed under his breath and scrambled out of his seat after her. 

He jogged down the hallway to catch up to her, ignoring every instinct that told him to leave her alone, lest he allow her to smite him to hell. 

He caught up to her and the second he placed his hand on her shoulder, her head snapped over to him and he was lifting his hand from her the second he saw the warning in her gaze.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was being a creep, I’m sorry.” 

She almost stopped in her tracks in pure confusion. The admittance that he had made her uncomfortable and was apologizing for it gave her pause. No one in this hell hole had ever apologized to her. It made her glare soften and she slowed her quick pace so they were walking beside each other in tandem, much more casually.

“You’re not a creep.” 

Eddie looked surprised at her words and he flushed slightly. “I mean… I was staring at you. I wouldn’t exactly say that isn’t the behavior of a creep.” 

“Compared to the other guys at this school, you’re practically a saint.” 

Eddie remembered Dave’s words and the way Jesse had grabbed her ass in a cafeteria full of people who had done nothing but watch. The unease that swelled inside him made him begin to fiddle with his hands anxiously.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What, guys thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want with no consequence? All the time.” She spoke bitterly. 

It was tiring dealing with petty boys that were dying to finally crack the Ice Queen’s heart, or at least get the chance to see if they could fuck the attitude out of her.

Eddie sighed with a wince. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you haven’t done anything.”

He stiffened at the confrontational manner of her voice. He wondered if she ever didn’t speak to people that way. Hawkins was a small enough town that everyone knew everyone’s business and he’d certainly heard about her childhood. He knew that her past wasn’t the easiest and he wondered if that was why she was the way she was, so on edge and cold all the time.

“No, I just stare.” He shrugged shyly and was relieved when he saw that smirk back on her lips, knowing she had realized his jest.

“Well, that’s better than grabbing my ass.”

He smiled lightly and nodded. “Noted.”

She looked over at him again, the coldness back in her eyes and he straightened, his eyes widening slightly. 

“That was a joke.” He defended quickly before she could strike for his blood. 

She stared at him incredulously for a moment, as if she couldn’t understand just what this conversation was or why they were even having it. This was probably the longest conversation she’d had with a guy from school that didn’t broach the subject of a possible date or romp behind the bleachers.

She was hoping this conversation wouldn’t lead to a kick in the dick like most did.

No more words were said as they approached the parking lot and she saw her dad’s car sitting in wait. She bit back a curse, having forgotten that he would be driving her home today. 

She began to push the door open when Eddie’s voice stopped her.

“Hey, I uhh, I really liked hanging out with you.” 

She looked over her shoulder at him and noticed how he shifted on his feet, how his eyes couldn’t meet hers, how he hung his head so his long hair would cover his face, most likely to cover the reddening of his cheeks. But she still saw it.

It only confused her more.

“You think having detention together is ‘hanging out’?” 

He looked like a deer caught in headlights and his mouth opened but he didn’t have any words. A braver man would’ve taken their shot, ask her to hang out properly, ask to take her on a date, but the calculating way she was looking at him kept him quiet, knowing rejection was imminent. He wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable like the dumbass jocks do.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, no, but I, I dunno, I still had fun.” 

Her eyes narrowed, as if waiting for the punchline, waiting for the inevitable moment he treated her like every other guy at this school did, like an object to conquer for notoriety. 

But it never came.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled and he hoped she couldn’t tell how fast his heart was racing. 

“I guess.” Was all she said before turning and leaving the school. 

Eddie let out a harsh breath as soon as the door closed behind her. He felt like he had said something wrong, but his nose was still intact so that was at least a good sign.

“Could’ve been worse.” He mumbled to himself. He moved to leave before realizing he had walked with her all the way to the exit and not in the direction of his locker where he had needed to go.

~~

Jim Hopper was stern as his daughter jumped into the car.

“Did you forget what time school got out? I’ve been waiting here for 45 minutes.”

“I got detention.” She said plainly.

“What?”

“I got detention.” She said again, much louder than was necessary. “Do I need to buy you a hearing aid for Christmas this year?”

“Zip it. What did you do?”

“I hit a guy in the face with my lunch tray.”

Jim’s face fell slack for a moment before twisting with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “What?!” 

He stopped himself before he could fly off into a ten minute rant and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily.

“Why?” Was his only question, already sounding exhausted and she had only been in the car ten seconds.

She slunk further into her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass as she mustered up the courage to inevitably spike her father’s rage. “He grabbed my ass.” 

Jim Hopper was never known to be a patient or gentle man and the way his face reddened and his jaw clenched in anger was exactly why. He was seconds from scouring the town to murder whoever touched his daughter.

“Who was it?”

“Dad-”

“Who?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” He yelled back, his rage palpable. 

“Because you’re going to kill him and I don’t have enough money to live on my own if you go to prison.” 

“Don’t make jokes right now.” Jim warned, looking at his daughter sternly. 

“I’m not.” She defended. “You don’t need to get involved, I took care of it.”

“You took care of it?”

She rolled her eyes and looked over at him plainly. “Did you not hear the part where I hit him?”

Hopper huffed, his face still twisted with anger. “Punk deserves to be six feet under.”

She rolled her eyes again, as she always did wherever her dad was so blatantly protective over her. 

Sighing heavily, Hopper started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot. 

“Was there at least blood?” He asked after a long moment of silence.

She snickered, a genuine smile finally breaking out over her face, the sight warming Hopper’s damaged heart. 

“A little.” 

He smiled proudly and looked over at her fondly. “That’s my girl.” 

~~

The next morning was hectic, as always. 

After spending so much time together, the father and daughter duo still could not figure out a productive morning schedule and it almost always ended up in a fight over who got to shower first, who used up the last of the eggs, or who forgot to put the pot of coffee on.

“You’re such a slob.” She muttered as she cleared up the empty cans that littered the living room. 

From his spot in the kitchen, Hopper glared at her, though he knew it could never measure up to hers and he quickly turned back to his coffee to avoid getting one thrown his way in return.

“I’m gonna be working late tonight so make sure you tell your mom she needs to drop you off here, I don’t want you walking home in the rain.”

She paused, the can in her hand denting slightly in her tightening grip. She felt her throat constrict and a sting in her eyes as a familiar wave of disappointment settled within her.

“She’s not coming.” She choked out quietly.

“What?” Hopper asked in disbelief. “What do you mean, she’s not coming?”

“It means she’s not coming. What else could it mean?” She snapped back at her dad who sighed and gave her a pointed look, one that told her to cool it with the attitude.

He was the only one who could successfully navigate her demeanor and she deflated quickly, the tensity of her shoulders falling in defeat. 

“She called last night.” She explained, her voice quiet.

“Did she say why?”

She just shrugged in response, all fight left from her. There was only a feeling of abandonment left, one that made her feel empty. She didn’t want to tell her dad that Diane had canceled because she was too busy with her new baby. She didn’t want to be the one to break his heart with the news. 

Hopper chewed on his lip, not knowing exactly how to handle her sudden sadness. It wasn’t an emotion he saw her with often and he felt way out of his element to be the one to comfort her.

But he had been her father since she was four and he would be damned if ever let her down. 

“I can call her and-”

“No, don’t bother.” She interrupted quickly, her voice back to that usual sharp edge.

He said her name softly and winced as she resumed throwing the cans into the trash, now with much more force than before. 

As soon as she finished, she tossed the half full bag to the side of the room and quickly stomped to the back of the trailer to her room to get dressed for school.

Left alone, Hopper hung his head and felt an inkling of failure creep upon him. 

His heart broke for the kid. His heart broke for what she’d had to endure in her short life. 

Hopper had loved her the moment she was born, even when she wasn’t his. He was only the godfather, a mantle he never thought he’d actually have to step up to.

His best friend from highschool had knocked up his girlfriend and it was clear how terrified they both were. The two of them were not fit to be parents, that much was clear. They enjoyed partying, they were young and reckless and the birth of their baby didn’t change them. They didn’t want to change their ways, even though they had a young life that depended on them. 

When she was only two years old, her father disappeared. He skipped town, not even bothering to leave a note.

Her mother was devastated. They were highschool sweethearts. In her mind, they were soulmates, and he had left her behind. 

She blamed her daughter for it.

Hopper had always been in her life and the moment he saw the state she was living in, the neglect her mother showed her, he knew he had to step in. 

He began spending more time at their house, looking after the kid when her own mother refused to, when she would rather go out with friends or lay on the couch watching tv, stating that she needed her rest. 

When it became clear that her mother was unfit to look after her child, Jim had begged Diane for them to do something, practically getting on his knees to convince her. 

But he barely got the chance to persuade her. 

That night, as he pleaded his case to his wife, there was a knock on their door. Jim opened the door to see the four year old sitting on the steps of their porch as the headlights of her mother’s car sped out of the driveway.

“Hi, Jimmy.” Her young voice spoke sadly and Jim could’ve sworn he felt his heart break into a million pieces.

He knelt down to her height and opened his arms. “Come here, Sweetheart.” 

She wasted no time in jumping into his arms. Hopper swore in that moment, as he felt her little body shaking against his, his neck becoming wet with her tears, that he would do anything for her. 

The couple got legal custody quickly and her last name had changed to Hopper. From then, she knew her dad was Jim and her mom was Diane. He could still remember the moment she called him dad for the first time. He couldn’t control his tears and all he could do was bring her into his arms, hug her tightly and tell her how much he loved her. 

Things were wonderful, they were a real family. Their lives were filled with happiness.

Until Sarah. 

Jim knew his first daughter felt slighted at the birth of Sarah. He knew at the birth of their biological daughter that she suddenly felt like she didn’t belong, like she was an imposter in their family.

He tried his best to show her that he loved them both equally, but it was Diane that made her favor clear. She doted on Sarah hand and foot and left their first daughter in the dust, treating her as if she was only a visitor in her own home, as if she wasn’t actually their daughter, only a placeholder until they got Sarah, their real daughter.

Despite the feeling of neglect that once again fell on her, it did nothing to diminish the relationship she had with Sarah. She loved her little sister with all her heart and her little sister loved her. She was seldom seen without the little blonde attached at her hip. 

But their perfect little family didn’t last. 

Sarah got sick and Diane spent even more time by her side, leaving her older daughter to mourn the time they used to spend together. 

Sarah succumbed to her sickness and her best friend was gone. Their family fractured. 

Diane stopped speaking to her all together, claiming it was too hard to even look at her - her pseudo-daughter - when she couldn’t have her real daughter. 

Eventually Diane left, just like everyone else in her life. 

But Jim stayed. He was the only one she had left. They moved to Hawkins and she began to build her wall, she began to bite back at others, shielding herself from ever getting close to anyone in fear that they would eventually leave her like everyone else did. 

Jim regretted the last few years, wishing he could have dragged himself out of his funk, his own grief for Sarah, to save his first daughter from growing so cold. 

They were both changed after losing her, both of them devolving into people they never expected to become. Where she had her harsh words and sharp attitude, he had his drinks and his one-night stands. 

He wondered how long they could keep going on like this and he feared it wouldn't be for much longer. 

He didn’t want his daughter to feel lonely, he didn’t want her to keep pushing people away.

But he was at a loss as to how to help her when he couldn’t even help himself.

~~

Her pencil moved quickly across her notebook as she wrote her essay, but stilled suddenly as the chair across from her pulled out with a harsh noise.

She looked up with a glare, barely containing her confusion as she saw Eddie taking a seat, his smile blinding as he looked at her excitedly.

“Good morning.” He greeted her happily as if they were long time friends. 

She could only stare back at him blankly, her eyes briefly moving to the many empty tables in the library, the many other seats he could’ve taken instead of the one across from her. 

His smile faltered slightly at her silence, as her calculating gaze moved back onto him before falling to the paper in front of her, her pencil moving again as she focused on her schoolwork.

“So,” Eddie started, dragging out the word annoyingly. “Any plans for tonight?”

She breathed deeply before answering, her annoyance clear. “Nothing important.” She replied stiffly, keeping her eyes down on her essay.

“What, no wild parties or elaborate heists to carry out?”

Sensing that he wasn’t going to stop pestering her until she gave a real answer, she sighed heavily and relented.

“I’m babysitting.” She answered coldly.

Eddie hummed, leaning back in his chair. “I can see why you didn’t wanna tell me. That’s pretty lame.”

Anger was quick to rise within her and her eyes looked up sharply, her mouth opening, ready to tell him to fuck off, before she saw the amused smirk on his lips.

She faltered, realizing he wasn’t demeaning her or making fun of her, he was just joking around with her. 

Confusion washed over her like a wave, sweeping away her anger and leaving her to question just what he was doing with her, why he tried so hard, why he spoke to her like they were long time friends.

Seeing her face smooth out, no traces of her retaliating viciously, Eddie leaned in closer, his eyes taking in every inch of her face. 

“I gotta admit, you’re pretty brave for voluntarily looking after some demonic kids.”

She smirked lightly and rolled her eyes, a gesture that came across more playful than she ever intended it to be. She had a soft spot for the group of boys she babysat and the mere mention of them had her hard edges retreating ever so slightly. 

“They’re not so bad. I mostly just sit there while they play D’n’D.”

Like a dog called by their owner, Eddie perked up, his face alight with intrigue. He opened his mouth but quickly closed it, stopping himself from tumbling into a rant she surely wouldn’t be interested in and ruining the little rapport he managed to build with her.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat in a mockery of casualty. 

“Do you ever play?” He asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as eager as he thought it did. He knew the extensive time he spent on the game was a big part of the reason he was ridiculed and looked down on. It had a lot to do with the fact that this was becoming the longest conversation he’d had with the opposite sex that didn’t lead to mocking laughter. 

“They tried to get me to play once. I guess all my questions were too annoying for them because they haven’t asked me since.” 

The small smile that adorned her face as she spoke captured his attention like a colorful sunset. He couldn’t look away. 

She had him hook, line and sinker and all it took was yet another genuine smile.

“I could… I could teach you. I mean only if you want me to.” This time he was positive he couldn’t hide his eagerness. 

“You don’t have to subject yourself to that.”

“No, I wouldn’t- I would love to. I mean, I’d be happy to. It’s a long game and you’d have to develop your character, which could take some time. And, I mean, your reputation is probably gonna tank if anyone sees you playing, especially with me.”

Her eyebrow raised at his ramblings and she looked at him inquisitively. 

“Why would I give a shit about my reputation?”

He paused, his mouth open but no words escaping him. 

“It’s not like mine’s much better than yours, anyways.” She continued and Eddie was perplexed by the way she shifted her focus back to her essay so easily, as if she couldn’t care less about what people thought of her.

The miraculous thing was, Eddie truly believed she didn’t care. He’d watch time and time again as she walked through the hallways of hell - or Hawkins High as others called it - with her stern gaze forward, paying no mind to those she passed, to those that whispered vile things about her.

It was a damn gift he wished she could share with him. 

He tapped his fingers against the table mindlessly, his thoughts still spinning aimlessly. The sounds of laughter suddenly caught his attention and he looked over to find two girls sitting at the other end of the table.

They were giggling not-so-quietly, their judgmental gazes drifting over to Eddie every few seconds.

“He lives in a trailer.”

“You couldn’t pay me to step foot in that thing.”

“He’s so trashy.”

She flinched slightly, the words they definitely weren’t trying to keep between themselves breaking through her concentration. They infuriated her and without wasting a second, she slammed her pencil down, turning towards the two girls, her face a mask of annoyance.

“Are you two just about done?” Her loud voice interrupted their mocking, causing them to turn towards her, their eyes wide with surprise, the beginnings of fear overtaking their features at her blunt call out.

“What?” One girl spoke dumbly. 

“I live in a trailer. Do you think I’m trashy too?”

One of them audibly swallowed and looked to her friend, as if begging her to say something to save her from speaking to the notoriously bitchy and feared girl accosting them. 

“No, of course not, we didn't mean-”

“You did mean to be completely fucking ignorant?” 

The two friends were speechless and with a shared uneasy glance, they both silently picked up their books and moved to a different spot, desperate to get away from the infamous ice queen’s sharp tongue. 

Eddie watched them go, his lips parted in surprise at how easy it was for her to call out the preppy kids who looked down upon them. His wide eyed gaze moved back to her and he was amazed to see her pick up her pencil and continue with her essay, as if she hadn’t just left the two girls shaking in their boots.

A feeling he couldn’t describe and had never felt before began to creep through him, it was exhilarating. No one had ever stood up to people when they said awful things about him. 

“You... that was…holy shit, that was amazing.” He spoke with a wide, delighted smile. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”. 

“I didn’t do it for you.” She snapped back defensively. But when she saw how he flinched slightly at the fire in her tone, she allowed her rigid shoulders to slump just the slightest. “People like that… they get on my nerves.”

“I think that’s a bit of an understatement.” He joked and immediately regretted it as she sent him a fiery glare that told him she didn’t appreciate the moment of levity.

“Well… still, I appreciate it.” He spoke genuinely, his voice lacking its usual charm and sarcasm, causing her to eye him carefully, noting the change.

She just sent him a nod, her silent gesture of acceptance, the proverbial lion laying its head down, choosing not to devour the antelope before it.

That night, as she sat on the lumpy couch in the Wheeler’s basement, she watched as the group of boys laid out their pieces to prepare for another long haul of D’nD. 

A smile came to her face as she heard Dustin arguing with Lucas about their next move, their passion for the game clear in their loud proceedings. She laughed to herself and for reasons she couldn’t explain she thought of the curly haired man who was seemingly trying hard to befriend her. 

~~

By Monday morning, she was in her first period class, arms crossed over her chest as she willfully ignored the groups of students walking in. She sneered at a passing jock that mockingly winked at her, her mood souring instantly.

It was already shaping up to be a terrible day. 

A backpack slamming down on the seat beside her made her look over to find those shaggy curls that were becoming all too familiar. 

“What are you doing?”

“What, is this seat taken?” Eddie asked with a smirk, knowing it sure as hell wasn’t.

“You never sit this close.”

He looked behind him at the two rows that separated him from his commonplace in the back row where he could goof off in peace and shrugged. 

“I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” 

She eyed him, as if trying to figure him out, but she was coming up blank. She couldn’t think of any reason why he was always showing up, why he was seemingly trying so hard to talk to her. 

“Hey, Hopper-” 

The obnoxious voice caused them both to look up and saw the captain of the basketball team looking at Eddie incredulously before moving his gaze back to her, the fake concern on his face turning her stomach and making Eddie frown and shift in his seat anxiously, sensing where this was going.

“Is he bothering you?”

“What makes you think he’s bothering me?”

The jock laughed, looking back at his group of friends, who were all watching and entertained. 

“Come on, it’s Munson.”

“You know what would really bother me?” She started, the seething tone of her voice making Eddie slink in his seat, his eyes looking back and forth between her and the cocky jock. “Someone who keeps asking me out and trying to hook up with me even though I’ve said no at least 15 times and won’t take a fucking hint. And between the two of you-” She pointed at him and Eddie, making his cheeks heat to have the groups of jocks’ attention on him.

“-It sure as hell isn’t Eddie who’s bothering me.”

The jock smiled, trying to brush off her rejection and leaned closer to try his luck again.

“Aww, come on, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“From what I’ve heard in the girl’s locker room, I’d only be missing three inches and 20 seconds of action.” She bit back and smiled slyly as Eddie made a choked noise and promptly slapped his hand over his mouth to stop his ensuing laughter.

The others in the classroom who had been eagerly listening in all erupted in laughter and the jock who’d poked the bear was left with a red face, fuming at her insult, his group of friends behind him left attempting and failing to stifle their own laughter at his expense.

“You fucking bitch, you really think you can talk shit-” 

Eddie got to his feet, intercepting the guy charging forward and stepping in front of him to block his path to her, his face now serious, all traces of laughter gone.

“Whoa, whoa, relax.”

“Get the fuck off me, Freak.” He pushed Eddie’s arms roughly and stepped forward, getting in his face threateningly. 

Behind Eddie, she found she couldn’t move. She was frozen in her seat, completely stunned at the way Eddie had gotten to his feet so quickly, at how effortlessly he had put himself in the line of fire to protect her. 

Thankfully, the teacher stepped into the room and the threat of detention was greater than the idiot jock’s need for revenge and with one last scathing glare to both of them, he went back to his seat. 

Her eyes stayed on Eddie as he took his seat beside her. 

“What the hell was that?” She asked quietly, not understanding the feeling swelling within her. 

Eddie smiled and she found that thing inside her she didn’t understand jumped and reveled in the sight. 

“Just returning the favor.”

“You don’t have to get yourself beat up for me.” 

“Hey, look at this pretty face-” His finger circled around his face as he smiled exaggeratedly. “Does it look like I got beat up?”

A quiet, protracted laugh left her lips, her eyes still narrowed in disbelief as she shook her head and turned to face the front of the room. 

But for the rest of the class, she found her eyes drifting back to him often, the feeling inside her stomach making her wonder if she was sick. 

The next day, with a seeming understanding between them, she found her gaze fall on him as she walked through the crowded halls, his tall stature making him stand out among everyone else.

He met her eyes from across the hall and the smile that grew on his face was dazzling. He sent her a wave and she stifled the urge to laugh at the excited gesture, one that reminded her of a hyperactive puppy. 

She sent him a nod, her normally stoic - and frankly bitchy - expression shifting into one more neutral as she passed him.

Eddie found himself watching her as she retreated down the hall, getting lost in the crowd.

“What the hell was that?” Jeff asked in disbelief, having watched the strange interaction. 

“What?”

“You just waved at Hopper.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“And she didn’t kill you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his locker, fighting the urge to defend her to his friend. She didn’t need it and he couldn’t exactly refute it. Her reputation was well earned. 

“Dude, are you hooking up with the Chief’s daughter?” Jeff whispered excitedly.

“What? No!” 

“But you want to.” 

Eddie opened his mouth, but floundered for a response. 

“It’s not- I’m not - she’s-” He stammered exasperatedly, his mind in shambles at the mere insinuation, one he couldn’t deny he had fantasized about many times. “She’s cool. We’re… I dunno, getting to know each other.”

“Holy shit, dude. Little preteen Eddie would be so proud.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes again and shoved Jeff playfully. “Shut up.”

At the end of the day, by some sort of miracle - an overdramatic explanation Eddie was running with - they both ended up in detention together again.

He smiled as he took his seat beside her and, unlike the first time, she smiled back at him and they spent the next half hour talking quietly in the back of the classroom, passing the time all too easily.

Eddie was amazed that she was actually initiating conversation. She still kept her arms crossed over her chest, her face neutral, revealing no emotions, every aspect of her outward appearance screaming that she would rather be alone, but her interjections in between his rants about Metallica’s latest album and his hopes if they ever made a live action Lord of the Rings, meant everything to him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so jealous.” Eddie dramatized as they walked down the empty hallways when their time in detention was finally over, the two of them still glued at each other’s side.

She rolled her eyes at his words and scoffed. “It’s really not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be.”

“Come on, you’ve punched almost half the basketball team. I know the entire Hellfire Club would kill to have those kinds of stats.”

“Half of your little club would be dead in a ditch if they had the stats I had.” She teased, making him laugh, feeling - for the first time ever - that he wasn’t being made fun of when bringing up his club he was so proud of.

“I think they’d be the first to admit that you’re entirely more badass than any one of them.” 

She smiled, the sight sending Eddie’s stomach flipping pleasantly.

Before they knew it, they made it to the parking lot and she tensed, her eyes falling on the car waiting for her, knowing their time together was at an end. She eyed her father’s car and swallowed thickly, knowing he would’ve seen the two of them together, walking side by side.

“So.. I was thinking-”

Eddie’s nervous sentence ended abruptly as she turned to him quickly, her face drawn tightly with apprehension, all traces of the more laid back version of her gone as quickly as it had come.

“I’ll see you later.” She spoke quickly and was gone from his side the very next second, leaving him to watch her walk away in a stunned silence. 

He tensed slightly when he noticed the police cruiser in the parking lot, the reminder that her father was the chief of police crashing over him like a ton of bricks. He knew his reputation in this town and he knew any father, let alone one who was a police chief, would string him up on a cross for getting near their precious daughter.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before turning on his heels lazily and skulking towards his van, his mind replaying the sound of her laughter over and over again.

As she stepped into her father’s car, she kept her head down, avoiding his calculating gaze. But it wouldn’t save her from his questions.

“Who was that?”

“Who was who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kid.” Jim countered quickly. “Who was that boy you were walking with?”

“No one.”

“No one?” He questioned sarcastically, earning a fierce glare from his daughter who didn’t find his teasing half as funny as he found it. “Have you finally made a friend? Do I have to call his mom, schedule a playdate?”

“You know, you’ve never been funny, I don’t know why you still try.” She snarked, markedly avoiding his lingering question.

“What’s his name?”

She sighed loudly, making a point to let him know she was annoyed. 

“Eddie.” She gritted out.

“Eddie what?”

She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against her fist, knowing what was coming. “Munson.”

Jim paused, his hand hovering over the gear shift, stopping himself before he could pull out of the parking lot. 

“You’re making friends with Munson?”

“I didn’t say he was my friend.”

“You were smiling.”

She turned towards her dad, her face alight with a stubborn ferocity. “So that means he’s my friend?”

“I hardly ever see you smile, as far as I’m concerned you two are practically engaged.” Jim argued, his fear that stemmed from his protectiveness over her overbearingly apparent.

She rolled her eyes and leaned back to look out the window, pointedly shielding herself from her dad’s gaze as she felt her insides flutter at the insinuation of her feelings.

She would be dead before anyone knew she had any kind of feelings for anybody on this planet. 

“He looks like a punk.” Jim’s words broke the minutes long silence that had overcome them as he drove them home.

“Dad.” She admonished harshly, feeling the strange need to defend Eddie from stupid stereotypes she knew affected him.

“What? He could stand to have his hair cut.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t judge people for the way they look or what people in this stupid town say about them.”

Jim looked over at his daughter, knowing he had touched a nerve, knowing she wasn’t talking about the Munson kid anymore. Her own past was a slippery slope that even he, the one who had been in her life the longest, didn’t know how to navigate. He sighed and reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m not trying to tease you, Kid.” He told her softly. “You know you can be friends with whoever you want. I’m not gonna stop you.”

She stayed quiet, her eyes locked onto her hands that fidgeted restlessly in her lap. She couldn’t explain why her insides were twisting the way they were.

She didn’t know if she liked it or not.

~~

“You are absolutely insane, Wheeler!”

“I’m just stating a fact!” 

“It’s not a fact! Wolverine could never beat Professor X!” 

She laughed under her breath as Dustin and Mike went back and forth with their argument and continued to eat her ice cream. It had been an amazingly sunny day and she decided to treat her little gang of rascals to ice cream, a feat that made her the best babysitter to ever exist according to them.

She fell into step with Will, the quietest of the group and the one who had captured her heart the quickest. His shy nature, his ability to fade into the background made her protective instincts rise. She saw pieces of her own childhood self in him and she would do anything to make sure he never became as jaded and mad at the world as she became.

“How’s the cone, Will?”

“Good. I’m glad I went with the chocolate.” He answered, his chocolate stained lips curving into a bashful smile.

She smiled and wrapped her arm over his shoulder as they walked. 

As they turned a corner onto the street just a block down from Mike’s house, they could hear the dull sound of music that became louder the further they walked. 

Her eyes fell onto an open garage door, the blaring sounds of heavy metal reaching their ears as they stood just a house away from the scene. 

Her pace faltered slightly, her stomach twisting with something she soon realized was excitement when her eyes fell onto the unmistakable head of shaggy hair.

“That sounds awful.” Lucas commented with a sneer and continued walking. 

“You wanna take one of their guitars and show them how it’s done?” She teased, making Lucas smile bashfully and nudge her lightly in teasing admonishment. 

The sound of her name being called and the music stopping abruptly made them all look up. Her smile vanished, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Eddie waving at her excitedly from the garage. 

“Who’s that?” Dustin asked and by the teasing smile on his face and the way he wiggled his eyebrows she knew she was never going to be answering that question.

She gave Eddie a small wave back and quickly urged the kids to keep walking, ignoring how the sight of the guitar slung over his shoulder made her heart beat quicker. 

“Is that your boyfriend?” Mike asked with a smirk.

“Do you want me to steal your ice cream?” She asked and he immediately recoiled from her, taking an obnoxiously long lick of his cone. “Good, then no more questions.”

~~~

“Hey!”

She flinched as a body thudded next to her locker and she wasn’t surprised to see Eddie smiling down at her. 

“Hi.” She replied monotonously, a sharp contrast to Eddie’s bright demeanor.

What are you doing on Friday?”

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

Her flippant response made his nerves rise, realizing this was going to be just as difficult as he feared it would be. He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. 

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie with me, maybe eat some greasy food at Benny’s?”

Her movements paused and she looked over at him, her expression growing cold as she feared he was just like all those other guys at school that tried their luck with her, that played nice just to get into her pants.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

He balked slightly at her harsh tone. He didn’t want her to think he was like those assholes who just wanted to use her. He truly loved his time with her, he looked forward to seeing her everyday at school. She was the sole reason he hadn’t skipped a day in the last few weeks.

“I just thought it’d be cool to hang out with you somewhere that wasn’t…  hell.” He said, looking around at the surrounding students with disdain.

Her eyes stayed on him and he shifted under the scrutiny, as if she could suddenly know all of his secrets just by looking at him. 

Her instincts screamed at her not to trust him, that he was only going to break her heart for the fun of it, but as she looked into his eyes and saw that giddy, puppy-like excitement and the way he fiddled with his hands anxiously, it told her all she needed to know.

He was nothing like the rest of them.

“Sure.”

He perked up, his slumped body straightening as if he had just been electrocuted. A wide smile bloomed on his face and for the first time he could ever remember, absolutely no words came to mind, his brain miraculously silent. 

“Really?”

“I’ll meet you at Benny’s at 7.” She said and with another word, slammed her locker shut and turned on her heel, walking away from him. His eyes followed her, as if in a daze.

He punched his fist in the air in glee, ignoring the looks of disdain from the girl three lockers down who mumbled a quiet ‘freak’ under her breath.

~~~

Friday at exactly 6:35 found Eddie sitting at a booth at Benny’s, his knee bouncing up and down excitedly.

He had never been on time for anything in his life, but for this, Eddie was twenty five minutes early and he felt absolutely zero shame for it. His eyes were glued to the door, despite the fact that she wasn’t expected to arrive until 7. 

His fingers tapped an obnoxiously annoying rhythm on the table, earning himself a look of disdain from the couple sitting at the booth in front of him.

But he paid them no mind, his attention focused solely on the door, eagerly and anxiously awaiting her arrival.

At just one minute before 7, the door opened and she strolled in, her face drawn tightly with her usual cold demeanor. His entire frame perked up, his eyes alighting with delight, slightly from the fact that he was so relieved she’d actually shown up.

He stood from the booth and waved her over, his heart racing as she gave an awkward wave back and a small smile began to grace her lips. 

The fact that he could make her smile never failed to send him reeling. Screw passing a class, that was his biggest accomplishment.

“Hi.” She greeted as she slipped into the booth and Eddie suddenly realized he was still standing like an idiot.

He tripped over his own feet as he rushed to take a seat across from her, breathlessly spilling out a greeting.

“Sorry, I guess I got a little ahead of myself.” He started with a bashful smile when he noticed her confused gaze on the two milkshakes already sitting at the table. “I remember you said you liked the chocolate milkshakes here so I ordered you one.”

“I said that like two weeks ago.”

Eddie remembered the exact conversation they had while sitting in detention together. He remembered everything she told him and from the surprised look in her eyes he could tell she wasn’t used to his eagerness.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly fearing he’d done something to cross a line.

Her face gave nothing away. He could have never known just how touched she was by the gesture, by how easily he could show her he actually listened to her words, by how he had made her feel seen.

“Thanks.” She said quietly, a swirl of emotions more intense than she had been expecting to feel over something so simple overtaking her.

He let out a breath and smiled, his body relaxing as he realized he hadn’t done something to make her uncomfortable, that he wasn’t scaring her off with how genuinely excited he was to get to know her better.

They shared a look, both of them feeling a slight unease as a moment of awkward silence settled over them.

They’d never had this outside of school before. It was different, it was moving into territory that could be perceived as something other than platonic.

“How’d you find O’Donnell’s test?” She asked the first question that came to her mind in an attempt to break the strange silence.

Eddie groaned dramatically and slumped against the booth as though she had just shot him. Her eyes frantically looked around at the patrons beside them, her heart racing as she found a few pairs of eyes looking their way with judgment. 

“I finally get to see you outta that hellhole and it’s the first thing you bring up?”

“Well, what else is there to talk about?”

He straightened his posture and she found she suddenly didn’t like the way he was looking at her with intrigue. 

“You. I don’t know anything about you.”

She rolled her eyes and sent him a scowl. “You know about me.”

“Yeah, you always give such riveting insights to my thousands of questions.” His sarcasm earned him another scowl to which he just smiled, used to the gesture by now. “Come on, we’re friends, right? I just wanna get to know you.”

She stayed quiet for a contemplative moment, her fingers wiping at the condensation on her milkshake to distract herself from Eddie’s unwavering gaze. 

“I’m sure you already know what there is to tell. I’ve been the hot gossip in this town for years, everyone knows about me.”

Eddie’s features softened, understanding what it was like for his complicated homelife to be the topic of conversations for those who didn’t know a single thing about him. He heard about her deadbeat parents that abandoned her, he heard about her little sister’s untimely death, he heard how unsteady her remaining parent was.

It was no worse than what he was sure she had heard about his life.

“Not that stuff.”

“Then what?” She snapped defensively and then immediately sighed and slumped in her seat when she saw the flash of hurt on his face.

“I dunno, anything, everything. I just wanna get to know you better.”

Fuck this man, she thought as her stomach began to swirl with butterflies at how earnestly he looked and spoke to her, like he truly meant it.

She looked back down to her milkshake, taking an aggressively long sip to avoid having to reply. Eddie smiled softly, sensing he was going to have to take the lead if he was going to get anywhere with this conversation.

“What’s your favorite chip flavor?”

She looked at him incredulously. “Seriously?”

“What? When I said everything, I meant everything. So spill, favorite flavor.”

Her mouth opened, ready to give him a verbal lashing for trying to push her about something so stupid, but she found there was no burning fire inside her, at least not one stemming from rage or hatred.

“Sour cream and onion.” She finally answered, her voice barely a mumble.

Eddie’s face twisted dramatically, which she was soon realizing was his default setting. She scoffed, though it was not the usual sound for those she was ready to shun, it was filled with amusement.

“Ok, genius, what’s yours?”

“Barbeque, all day long, baby.” He smiled cheekily and she had to ignore the way her heart fluttered at the pet name and the charming smile that made his dimples poke out.

“Favorite musician?” He fired another question at her, feeling much more confident now that she was looking at him with at least a little bit of interest and not slumped in the booth with a glower on her face.

“Nina Simone.” She answered after a brief moment of contemplation. Based on the blank look on Eddie’s face it was clear he had no idea who the hell she was talking about and she rolled her eyes halfheartedly. “Really?”

“I’ve heard the name!” He defended eagerly. “Just… couldn’t name a single song.”

She laughed slightly and Eddie couldn’t help but smile even wider, leaning forward so the inches between them shrunk, the both of them with elbows rested on the table, completely engaged with each other.

“Let me guess, yours is Metallica? Or Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Dio?”

I love this woman, was the immediate thought that bounced in his brain. He shook himself of the thought quickly, but couldn’t deny the fact that she even knew who those bands were, ones that he worshipped, was the hottest fucking thing he ever heard.

She watched as his smile turned bashful, as his eyes moved down to his rings because looking into her eyes was just too fucking much for him. 

“Uhh, yeah, you hit the nail on the head.” 

There was a pause in conversation, the both of them sharing small, shy glances that held so much more than either could vocalize. Eddie suddenly cleared his throat, desperate to move past the wave of intense feelings that overtook him when he was with her.

“What was the last movie you watched?”

“The Jungle Book.” At Eddie’s questioning raised brow she sighed. “It’s my comfort movie, don’t judge.”

He raised his hands in defense. “I would never. It’s a pretty sick movie.”

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair, not noticing how Eddie’s eyes followed every motion. 

“What about you?”

“Uhhh, Alien.” He answered. “Made the mistake of getting high before I watched it. I had to sleep with my lights on, it scared the shit out of me.” 

The laugh his quip earned him made his chest tighten and he would do anything, say anything, to get her to make that noise every second of the day if he could.

“Favorite sport?”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about sports.”

Eddie laughed at her bluntness. He found it refreshing, at least when it wasn’t directed at him. He liked her simple outlook on life, there were no shades of gray with her and he found it calming to look at things her way. His brain usually tormented him with an onslaught of thoughts he found difficult to decipher.

But she quieted all of it. 

“Glad we’re on the same page.” 

He bit his lip, wondering if his next question would ruin the easy rapport they had going, if he was going to push her too far. 

“Where do you wanna go after graduating?”

She looked at him curiously and he could see in her eyes that the wall he was slowly breaking down was building itself back up defensively at his question that had unintentionally triggered her infamous temper.

“What makes you think I’d leave?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly… I just thought that - you know - Hawkins kinda sucks, especially for people like us and-”

“People like us?” She interrupted sternly and he knew he was losing her.

His heart raced and he cleared his throat, his mind racing to find the right words that wouldn’t lead her to thinking something completely different than what he meant.

“People who are misunderstood.” He started cautiously. “People who deal with way too much shit from stuck up people in this town that don’t matter.”

The fire in her eyes dimmed, leaving a contemplative, yet downtrodden, look on her face. Eddie’s heart ached as her defenses came back down. He wondered how exhausting it would be having to keep everyone at arm's length and he didn’t want to ask her why she felt she had to. 

He knew the answer would break his heart.

“I don’t think there’s much out there for me.” She answered quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have any special talents, I don’t play sports, I’m not part of the drama club, my grades are nothing to write home about. There’s nothing special about me. I’m frighteningly average.”

Eddie scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

She rolled her eyes and he fought the urge to mimic the gesture.

“Come on, don’t start with that.” He admonished gently. “There’s nothing average about you.” 

“Eddie-”

“I’m being serious here. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You mean you haven’t met anyone who’s as big a bitch as I am.”

Eddie’s face twisted with derision. “Don’t call yourself that.” 

“Why not? It’s true. It doesn’t bother me when people call me that.”

“Well, it bothers me.” He admitted quietly. “I think there’s a million things in this world you can do, a million places you can go. You deserve way better than Hawkins.”

Her heart raced and she valiantly ignored the heat that bloomed in her cheeks. His words hit her way too deep, forcing her to hear things she couldn’t believe about herself which made her fight the urge to hightail it right out of the diner.

But she found her feet wouldn’t move. 

She found Eddie had a way about him that made her go against all her natural protective instincts.

“I don’t know.” She mumbled. “I’m not really passionate about anything. I see so many people who know exactly what they wanna do with their lives or they have insane dreams they wanna chase even though there’s zero chance it’ll ever happen. I just… don’t have that.”

“Then we’ll find it.”

“We?”

Eddie smiled widely and she found her own lips curling upwards at the sight. “Yes, we. You’ll need a ride, won’t you?”

“You mean that death on wheels you drive?”

“Hey, insult her all you want, but you won’t be complaining when it’s you and me out on the open road, getting the hell outta dodge.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’d really do that with me?”

“Of course I would.”

Neither one of them could deny the spark that ignited between them that night. From then on, she began to let herself relax around Eddie day by day. She began to talk more, opening up about the trivial things she enjoyed in life. She even began to sit with him at lunch, choosing a spot at a rickety picnic table out next to the football field, sitting close enough to him that their arms brushed against each other every now and then. 

And even more, she began to look out for him. Something that Eddie was sure was making him fall head over heels, even more than his moon-eyed, pre-teen self could have ever comprehended. 

~~

“Watch where you’re going, dickwad.” 

She looked up in time to see Tommy H slam some kid into the lockers and knock his books from his arms. She recognized the kid to be the freshman Eddie hungout with. The Hellfire logo on his shirt was unmistakable and put a big red target on his back.

She grit her teeth and slammed her locker shut, beginning to make her way down the hall angrily. As Tommy passed her, still laughing in triumph, she discreetly kicked her foot out, making contact with his shin, hard.

The idiot cried out and crumpled as his leg gave out from the hit. 

She continued walking, her eyes finding Eddie and his friend who were crouched to pick up his books from the floor, their wide eyes and slack jaws indicating that they had seen her little display. As their gazes met hers, she sent them a sly smirk, a silent gesture of solidarity. 

Eddie’s expression was one of awe, he looked up at her as if she were a goddess and from the way he was kneeling it looked like he was practically praying at her altar, something that totally wasn’t out of the realm of possibility - at least in his mind. 

He smiled brightly and sent her a salute, the gesture making her laugh softly, the smile lingering on her face as she continued on her way down the hall.

Eddie was left to kneel on the ground, watching her retreating form as Gareth collected all his books. He looked over at his friend, prying the one book Eddie managed to pick up from his hands and rolled his eyes as Eddie continued to stare down the hall.

“Dude, you are so whipped.”

Eddie snapped his attention back to Gareth and could only smirk, not at all attempting to deny his claims. 

“She just played your knight in shining armor. Can you blame me?”

Gareth let his eyes fall to the woman’s retreating form and suppressed a shiver. She was attractive, but terrifying as all hell. By all accounts, only an idiot would approach the Chief’s daughter. He looked to Eddie again and shook his head when he saw the awe that lingered on his face and his goofy smile.

Turns out his friend was more of an idiot than he thought.

~~

Eddie slumped in the uncomfortable chair, the pull on his interlocked wrists making him wince. 

“Really, this is just a huge misunderstanding.” He spoke again to the officer that was blatantly ignoring him.

“Son, it’d be a good idea to keep your mouth shut.” The officer at the desk across from him spoke up without even sparing him a glance.

“All the bathrooms were taken, where else was I supposed to go?” He defended himself, earning a set of twin glares from the officers, making him shrink in his seat once again.

He looked up at the crotchety old woman sitting at the receptionist’s desk to find her staring back at him unimpressed. Eddie blew out a long breath and inwardly cursed, the deck was certainly stacked against him. The Hideout was flooded with drunk idiots doing stupid shit, yet he was the one to get taken in.

 His uncle was going to be pissed.

He was left to stew in his misery for a few minutes until a gleeful voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Hi, Honey! Oh, look at you, you’re more beautiful everytime I see you.”

Eddie looked up to see the grumpy old woman exuberantly leaving her desk to wrap someone in a tight hug. He recognized her immediately, sitting up straighter, his expression brightening, before suddenly realizing his current predicament. 

He didn’t want her to see him like this. He quickly slumped in his chair again, as if it would make him invisible. 

“Hey, Flo.” She greeted the old woman she’d known since childhood. “Is he in his office?” 

“Of course.” 

She moved to make her way to her dad’s office, but suddenly stopped in her tracks when she noticed the familiar mop of curly hair across the room. Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing dangerously.

Eddie smiled sheepishly, sending her a feeble wave. When she saw the cuffs on his wrists, she stormed towards him.

“What the hell did you do?” She barked and before he could even open his mouth, she was continuing with her tirade. “If my dad sees you here, he’ll flip his shit. He’ll kill you the next time he sees you with me.” 

Eddie’s eyes softened at the worry he heard in her voice. 

“Is that fear I hear in your voice?” He teased and when her eyes blazed with fire he swallowed thickly, his body tensing as he realized she wasn’t in a playful mood and now was not the time to tease. 

She turned to officer Callahan who had been watching their interaction with interest, his eyes flitting between the two of them eagerly, as if he were watching a soap opera.

“What’d you book him for?”

“Public urination.” 

Eddie wanted to ground to swallow him whole. He felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment as she turned to face him once more, an incredulous and slightly disgusted look on her face. She sighed deeply and turned back to the officer.

“Jesus christ, Phil, it’s 9 o’clock. You really wanna be doing paperwork all night ‘cause some stupid teenager took a piss?”

“Uhh, well, no, but-”

“And the cuffs, really? You think he’s some dangerous psychopath you need to chain down for your own safety?”

“It’s protocol-”

“They’re on way too tight, you’re cutting off his circulation. You’re lucky if he doesn’t file a complaint against you.” She ranted, fighting off the urge to smirk at the way Callahan shrunk under her heated glare. “Just let him off with a warning and let him go home.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and marched her way to the back office her dad resided in. Eddie turned to the stunned officer and wordlessly held out his wrists, grinning cheekily. 

Officer Callahan sighed loudly. He wasn’t about to let some teenage girl dictate his job, but she wasn’t exactly wrong. He probably went a little overboard with the Munson kid and the last thing he needed was the girl - who he was frankly terrified of - to get her dad involved - who he was also terrified of.

He didn’t need another verbal lashing from any other member of the Hopper family today. 

Within a minute of her divine intervention, Eddie was a free man. He stood outside the station, taking a deep inhale from his cigarette when the door opened and she stepped out, not surprised to see him still lingering. 

“Hey. You ok?”

The question and the caring nature to her voice caught him off guard and he was glad he was leaning against the wall or he literally would have swooned.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the cuffs sticking out of his back pocket. “I really don’t think you’re allowed to take those things.”

He shrugged, a devious smirk gracing his lips. “I wanted a memento.”

“You want to remember this moment?”

“Do I want to remember you reaming out a cop for me? Fuck yeah, I do. That was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve done some pretty badass shit, Sweetheart.”

The pet name made her eyes widen slightly and she crossed her arms over her chest, looking away from his brown eyes that were making her insides twist strangely. 

“Right, well… you should probably get going. My dad’s gonna be out any minute and I’d rather he not see you here.”

“Aww, worried about me?”

“Just don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face.” She teased him right back, patting his cheek affectionately, gaining the upper hand immediately as his face blanched, not having expected the turnabout. She smirked triumphantly and moved from his side to waltz back inside, leaving him to stand dumbly watching the spot she had just been, his cheeks flaming. 

He let out a long breath and leaned back against the wall, a goofy smile on his face. 

He was falling hard.

~~

“Bedtime is 8:30. We should be back before 10. Emergency numbers are on the counter. Just call if you need anything.” Karen Wheeler went on with her familiar spiel.

She’d been the loyal babysitter to the Wheeler’s and by extension the whole gang of nerdy boys for years, she’d heard the instructions a million times. 

But tonight, she was only looking after little Holly. A much needed break, if anyone were to ask. She loved those boys, but they could get rowdy and way too passionate about shit she couldn’t care less about.

As the Wheeler’s were preparing to leave, Nancy flounced down the stairs, her hair perfectly coiffed, her eyeshadow immaculate, her dress wrinkle free. 

The sight made her shift on the spot as she immediately began the insecure comparisons. She looked down at her drabby outfit that consisted of jeans she got from the Goodwill, a worn out t-shirt and her dad’s flannel with the way too long sleeves rolled up.

She was no Nancy Wheeler.

Behind Nancy was her loyal best friend, Barb, the two of them giggling quietly to each other as they got their shoes on, preparing to leave for some party for the night. The moment they looked up and met her gaze they both went quiet, their faces blanching at the sight of her.

She was pretty sure she even saw Barb gulp, as if she were facing the killer in a slasher flick.

Ignoring the lead that felt like it had just settled in her stomach, she turned her attention to Karen, giving a polite wave goodbye and torturously avoided the two teens' gazes as they quickly filed out the door, desperate to be out of her company. 

She blew out a long breath and turned to face the toddler in her care for the night. 

“Can we watch Muppet Babies?” Holly’s cute little voice broke the silence.

Kill me now.

“Of course, Sweetie.”

The next day, as she and Eddie lazed on the lone picnic table in the woods behind the school, her mind was a mess of thoughts, her face drawn tightly as she ruminated on all the things that made her insides clench with distaste.

“What’s got you thinking so hard? I’m the one failing algebra.”

“Do you think I should change?” She asked quietly, sounding more demure than he had ever heard her.

He looked at her quickly, his brows furrowed as he quickly took in the state of her. He felt his cheeks heat slightly as he couldn’t help but picture her figure under the baggy clothes she wore. 

“No, you look great.”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Not my clothes, idiot. Me.”

Eddie looked back at her in surprise and quickly closed his notebook. The topic at hand much more pressing than school. 

“Of course you shouldn’t. Why would you ever think that?”

“Because literally every person at this school looks at me like I’m gonna murder them.” 

“Well… I mean… you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Eddie!” She raised herself to slap his arm. 

“Whoa, hey! Don’t shoot the messenger!” 

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Like an hour ago you said you would love to run over Devon Goode with your dad’s car.”

“Well, he’s an idiot, he doesn’t count.”

“And Tommy H? You threatened him and Carol with a scalpel in bio yesterday.” 

“They are the most insufferable cretins on the planet. I’d be doing the world a favor.” She defended in all seriousness, making Eddie laugh. He moved to sit next to her atop the rickety table.

“I’m not disagreeing, but, you’re not exactly proving that you aren’t a potential murderer.”

She rolled her eyes, her gaze locked onto her fingers that fidgeted in her lap. 

“You never bothered about your reputation before. What brought this on?”

“Yesterday, I was babysitting Nancy’s little sister and she was there with her friend, Barb. God, they looked at me like they were in danger.” She admitted quietly. “I know I’m… difficult-”

“Hey, stop that. You’re not difficult.” Eddie interrupted immediately, not standing to hear her talk down on herself for one second. 

“Eddie, come on. I’m a huge bitch, everybody knows it.”

He protested immediately, his face scrunched with annoyance. “I thought I told you to stop calling yourself that.”

“It’s the truth. I’m horrible to people. Yesterday I grabbed Stacy’s ponytail and used it as a pulley to bash her nose into her desk.”

“Ok, yes, that’s… a lot.” Eddie agreed tentatively. “But what did she do before you did that to her?”

She paused, looking up at him knowingly. He just widened his eyes, silently forcing her to answer the question.

“She called me an orphan.”

“See? That’s a terrible thing to say to someone. You only react to how people treat you, you’ve never been the one that started any shit. Every single person you’ve yelled at or punched, none of them have ever given you a reason to be nice to them. They don’t deserve your kindness.”

She laughed bitterly. “I didn’t realize I had any kindness.”

Eddie guffawed and turned from his position sitting beside her to look at her head on. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

“You really think that?” 

By the look on her face and the pitiful shrug she gave in response, Eddie knew she truly believed that she had no ounce of kindness or good within her and it made his stomach turn.

“You seriously- ok I have so much to tell you.” 

She continued to stare back at Eddie with confusion, watching with narrowed eyes as he was practically bouncing in excitement where he sat.

“Do you remember the middle school talent show?”

“Why would I wanna remember that?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, though when he did it it was a lot less volatile of a gesture than when she did it.

“Well I remember it perfectly. I pretty much haven’t stopped thinking about it so allow me to jog your memory.” He began emphatically. “There was a totally kick ass band that consisted of a few misfits who decided doing an Iron Maiden cover in front of a bunch of stuck up middle schoolers and their parents was a good idea.”

A flash of realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her face suddenly morphed from confusion to understanding, a smile beginning to crawl across her lips.

“Corroded Coffin.”

Eddie swore his heart skipped a beat and the beaming smile he gave her was blinding. He tapped his nose in acknowledgement.

“Well, we thought we killed it. Twelve year old me was ready to play the Garden.”

She let out a small laugh, the noise stopping his train of thought for a moment, causing him to have to physically shake his head to get back on track.

“Turns out, the rest of the audience didn’t exactly agree. Well, that’s putting it lightly, they hated it. It was tragically embarrassing. Feared I’d never recover.”

His dramatic retelling had her biting her lip to stop her growing smile. 

“But, as we left the booing crowd behind, there was an angel standing backstage with a glowing halo.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous. The only reason I was there was because the principal told me I could avoid detention if I pulled the curtains.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I was glad you were there. It could’ve been the worst embarrassment of my life, but when I got off the stage you were standing there and you said we did great.” He continued, his voice lower, more serious now as his fingers began to trace anxious circles around the hole in his jeans. “I dunno, maybe it’s stupid, but, in that moment it felt like not everyone in the world thought I was a total loser.”

She watched him pensively, her stomach alight with a million butterflies at the way his big brown eyes bore into hers. 

“Did you really think we were good?” He asked, the question one he had been wondering since that night all those years ago. 

She bit her lip nervously, taking a long pause because too many words and explanations were circling around in her head. Ones that she was too shy to divulge.

“Yeah, I thought you guys were really cool.” She admitted quietly. “I thought it was pretty badass playing heavy metal at a middle school talent show, especially being the act right after Jessica Hart’s ribbon twirling.”

Eddie snorted and covered his face. “God we were such idiots.”

“No you weren’t.” She refuted him instantly. “It annoyed me how everyone else reacted and… I dunno, I guess I wanted you to know that I didn’t think the same as them.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, his heart racing wildly in his chest, the rush of emotions her words brought him making him feel antsy. He could picture himself grabbing her and kissing her until he passed out. He quickly looked away, a small smile lingering on his lips.

“So, what, I complimented you once when we were young and that proves I’m not a bad person?” She asked quietly, still cynical about his earlier words.

“You complimented me and I knew you were someone I wanted to get to know. I wouldn’t be friends with an asshole, I’m smarter than that.”

“Right, and how many classes are you currently failing?”

He barked out a laugh, his head thrown back, his smile beaming. The sight made her own smile grow and she quickly averted her eyes shyly. 

“Ok, smartass. You know I’m more about the streetsmarts not booksmarts.”

“Hmm, sure.”

Eddie looked over at her, his wide smile falling slightly. “You know I’m being one hundred percent serious, right? I don’t think you’re a bad person. And that compliment wasn’t just a compliment. It meant everything to me.”

The fluttering inside her became more intense, the feeling becoming so overwhelming her protective instincts kicked in and told her to run, to get as far away from this situation as she could. 

She let out a long breath, trying to calm herself and the instincts she always listened to that never did her any good.

“Why do you try so hard for me?” She asked quietly, a question she had been wondering since the first time he approached her in detention.

“Because you deserve it.” He spoke without hesitation, as if he didn’t even need to think of his answer. “You always look out for the little guys, you always stick up for yourself, which is insanely hard to do when those assholes never back down. I’ve always admired you and I thought you’ve always deserved better than this town. I guess I’m trying so hard so you can believe it.”

Her gaze rose to meet him and her breath got caught in her throat at the sincerity she saw in his eyes. The air between them suddenly became charged, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks reaching new heights.

Her eyes drifted down briefly to his plump lips, a gesture Eddie caught immediately, making him feel as though his heart would leap right out of his chest. He swallowed thickly and with every ounce of courage he could muster, he leaned in closer to her. 

Sensing what he was about to do, the giant step they were on track to take, her eyes widened and she instinctively moved back, furthering the space between them.

Eddie’s own eyes went wide with horror and he sprung to his feet, turning his back on her, embarrassment hitting him like a knockout punch. 

“Shit. Shit. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t- I didn’t mean to-” He stammered, his flustered mind unable to complete a sentence.

“Eddie,” She called out to him, her voice softer than he had ever heard before. He slowly turned to face her and she felt her chest tighten pleasantly when she saw how red his cheeks were. 

It was terrifying, the thought of Eddie seeing her in that way. It was a thought she’d had for weeks but had been brushing off because it was too overwhelming. But there was a voice in the back of her head that told her she would live with regret if she didn’t let this happen. 

She knew she’d be keeping herself from experiencing something amazing.

“Eddie,” She said again, causing him to slowly raise his gaze from his shoes to meet hers.

“I’m sorry. Can we just forget that? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” She assured him, her voice just as breathless and riddled with anxiety as his. “I want you to.”

Eddie stood as still as a statue for a few long seconds, his brain trying to work out if he’d hallucinated her words, or if he was blissfully dreaming. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamt of this exact scenario. 

“You… what?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

His lips parted in surprise, mostly because he couldn’t believe she reciprocated even one tenth of his affection for her. He took a small step towards her and, making sure she was still comfortable and not running for the hills, he took a few more until he was standing in front of her. 

She looked up at him and he felt as if he were about to pass out. He cleared his throat nervously. When he pictured this moment, he was never this nervous or anxious. He wanted to throttle himself. 

Sensing his anxiety, one that matched her own, she smiled lightly and stood up. Eddie’s eyes widened as they were suddenly chest to chest, but before he could even take a moment to be overwhelmed by their closeness, she grabbed him by either side of his face and brought him down to her height, pressing her lips to his firmly. 

Eddie’s eyes widened before fluttering closed. His hands settled on her hips softly, his grip loose and tentative, not daring to do something to make her uncomfortable and end up on the receiving end of one of her infamous right hooks. 

They were both tingling with nervous energy. The tension that had been building for weeks finally bubbling over leaving them both feeling dizzy and delirious with excitement. 

They pulled away after a few seconds, but stayed just close enough for their noses to brush against each other. 

Eddie looked lost in a daze as he stared back at her, amazed they had even crossed that line he had been dying to cross for weeks. 

He cleared his throat, bowing his head bashfully. 

“Was that… was that ok?” He asked tentatively, knowing she had the power to destroy him with only a word.

“Yeah, that was ok.”

Her voice was softer than she intended. Her heart thumped within her chest, unable to tear her eyes from him. Her lips buzzed, a rush of adrenaline overwhelming every inch of her. 

“You could… kiss me again… if you want.” She said, her voice barely heard over the breeze that shifted the leaves above them. 

Eddie was sure he was seconds from dropping dead, her words enough to stop his heart for good, but he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away from him. He wasn’t that dumb. He stepped towards her again, this time more sure of himself and he kissed her firmly. 

His hands tightened on her waist, now holding her tightly to him, desperate to have her as close as possible, no longer fearing that he’d scare her off, more incensed by her shared want. 

Her hands tightened around his neck, her fingers pulling on loose strands of hair at the base of his neck, sending sparks tingling down his spine. He pulled away from the kiss abruptly, pursing his lips closed to avoid letting a sound of pleasure fall past his lips. 

He was breathing heavily, his eyes staring down at her cautiously, praying he hadn’t just ruined their friendship. While he was elated to finally kiss her - he was mentally high fiving his twelve year old self - he couldn’t help but worry that he had crossed a line, that he had pushed her too far too fast and treated her just like every other douchebag at their school.

The last thing he wanted was for her to think he only wanted her for one thing. 

“Did I just fuck up everything for us?” He whispered breathlessly.

She laughed lightly and shook her head, leaning into him, her head falling against his chest where she could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Butterflies erupted in his stomach, even more than they already were. He didn’t think he’d ever see her so carefree before and he was elated at the mere thought that he had something to do with it. 

“No, you didn’t fuck up anything.”

“Good, good.” He mumbled quietly, as if to himself. “So, if I told you I’ve been crazy about you since middle school, that wouldn’t make things weird?”

She looked up at him quizzically, a mischievous smirk of her lips. “I’d question your taste in women.”

Eddie rolled his eyes halfheartedly, his grip on her waist tightening inadvertently. “You need to stop with that.”

She opened her mouth, yet she found she had no words to respond to Eddie’s unwavering confidence in her. She had never felt this before, she had never had someone so staunchly in her corner. 

Seeing the unease, the disbelief on her face, Eddie gently grasped her cheeks in his hands, gently coaxing her to meet his gaze.

“Hey, trust me when I say this.” He started softly. “You have never been and will never be a bad person, not when it really counts. And I may be an idiot, but having feelings for you will never be why. In fact, I think it’s the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”

She laughed breathlessly, bowing her head bashfully, but Eddie followed her, bending down so his eyes could still meet hers.

“C’mon, I would never joke about this. You got me wrapped around your finger, baby.” 

She smiled widely and for the first time she could ever remember, she didn’t hide her face as she felt her cheeks heat. 

She wanted this. She wanted Eddie and everything that came with him, no matter the fact that she was so far out of her element. 

She was scared, but most of all, she was so excited for what came next, what her and Eddie could be. 

She didn’t want to jinx anything but she knew, maybe naively, that they would be something beautiful. That he was exactly what she needed in her complicated life. 

The next day at school, as she walked into her first class of the morning, she was surprised to see Eddie already sitting in the desk next to the one she usually sat in. Given that he was known for typically showing up at noon, she was more than confused to see him so bright and early.

The smile he gave her as their eyes met made her heart flutter and she had to bite her lip to quell her smile as she took her seat next to him.

“Good morning.” Eddie greeted her happily, his voice sickly sweet. 

God, he’s trying to kill me, she thought to herself. 

“Morning.”

She kept her eyes forward, though she could feel his gaze on her and when she turned her attention to him, he had no shame in trying to hide the fact that he was blatantly staring at her. He only smiled widely, the both of them thinking back to the day before, the kisses they shared and the feelings they finally revealed to each other.

There was no going back now. 

“You don’t have to be so obvious.” She muttered under her breath so the other students sitting close to them wouldn’t hear.

“You know I can’t help it, Sweetheart.” He grinned, leaning his chin on his closed fist, continuing to stare at her dreamily.

She rolled her eyes but by the smile growing on her lips, he knew it wasn’t a malicious gesture. 

~~

“Hey,” 

She turned in time to see Eddie smiling widely at her as he approached, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss to her cheek before leaning against the locker beside hers.

“Hi.” She mumbled, suddenly feeling incredibly bashful. His gesture, so easy and done for the entire hallway of students to see, made her face heat. 

The sight of her so nervous, taken aback by his gesture, made him smile and he wanted nothing more than to plant a hundred more kisses across her face.

“Are you ready for Friday?” Eddie asked her excitedly, his smile wide and giddy.

“What’s Friday?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” 

When she could only stare back at him blankly, he groaned and threw himself back against the locker, his hands covering his heart. 

“You’re breaking my heart, you know that?”

“Jesus, you’re annoying.” She told him and if it were anyone else they would’ve been offended by her words, but Eddie saw the light in her eyes, the amused smirk on her lips and he knew it was her strange way of showing affection. 

“Well, Little Miss Forgetful, Ozzy’s album comes out Friday and I have to be first in line at the record store.”

“You really think it’ll be that busy?”

“I’m not taking the risk. It’s Ozzy, baby, I can’t miss it.” Eddie stressed emphatically, not realizing how her eyes widened at the use of the word ‘baby’. 

Ever since they kissed, he’d been a lot more liberal with his stupid nicknames. For some reason, ‘baby’ was one that never failed to get her heart racing. She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to grabbing her textbooks. 

“I really don’t think you’ll have a prob-”

“Can I talk to you?”

They both turned abruptly, surprised to see Jonathan Byers behind them looking like he hadn’t slept in a week, his desperate and pleading eyes locked on her. 

“Uhh, sure.” She answered slowly, her voice laced with confusion. She wasn’t exactly close with Jonathan. She hadn’t ever given him a verbal lashing which meant he was at least a sort of acquaintance. She really only spoke to him when he came to pick up Will, relieving her of her babysitting duties.

“I’ll talk to you later.” She told Eddie before leaving his side to follow Jonathan to the less crowded area of the hallway.

“Were you babysitting the boys last night?” 

That certainly hadn’t been the question she was expecting him to ask.

“No. The Wheelers were home so I was off duty. Why?”

Jonathan sighed deeply, clearing not having heard the answer he wanted. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the control he had on his emotions hanging on by a thread.

“Will didn’t come home last night.” 

Her heart dropped to her stomach, her throat going tight as she pictured a thousand horrible things happening to that sweet boy she adored so much. 

At seeing the look of horror on her face, Jonathan continued. “He wasn’t in his room this morning. My mom’s at the station now, talking to your dad. I’m gonna check out his fort. Do you know any other place he likes to go?”

“No, he’s only talked about the fort.” She told him, her voice monotonous, feeling numb by the news.

Jonathan nodded sadly and cleared his throat. “Well, uh, thanks anyways.” He moved to leave, but she grabbed his arm tightly, stopping him.

“I’ll go with you.” 

“You really don’t have-”

“Jonathan-” She stopped him immediately, her voice hoarse with emotion, clearly shaken. “I’m going with you.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. He knew how much Will loved her and another set of eyes might be just what his tired ones needed. 

As the bell rang, Eddie closed his locker, his eyes moving to find her to get one last goodbye in, knowing he wouldn’t see her until the end of the day. His face twisted in confusion as he watched her walk out the doors side by side with Jonathan. 

~~

Hope you enjoyed! I've been slowly working on this story for so long, it actually feels wild that I'm finally posting this.

Contents -

⟡ One | Watchful Eyes | 2.8k words

⟡ Two | Safety Hazards | 2.9k words

⟡ Three | Instincts | 2.8k words

⟡ Four | The Bridge | 2.5k words

⟡ Five | Temptations | 3.4k words

⟡ Six | Beneath the Lights | 2.7k words

⟡ Seven | Collateral | 2.7k words

⟡ Eight | Sacred Ruin | 3.3k words

⟡ Nine

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - This series will include content warnings at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

The idea for this hit me on my way to work and I swear I've been itching to write it ever since. I've had sm fun planning it out. Honestly, it's the first story in a while that's made me genuinely excited to sit down and finish it :)

I decided to make reader both an actress and a singer, I already have a mafia AU with Azriel where she's a popstar (I PROMISE I'll post that one someday... it just keeps getting bumped by other fics). Giving her the actress angle here has added some chef's kiss jealousy and drama that I'm obsessed with x

When Robin joined the group, she tried to warm you up more to it. Despite warnings from the group, whispers of she doesn’t like that, she’d continued to offer you her friendly physical affections as long as you reassured her it was fine. It worked, to an extent. You would now at least return the hugs received (even if it took you a few moments to do so), and you wouldn’t hold your breath at a friend’s head on your shoulder or lap. It was all baby steps — timid movements in the right direction, an accomplishment of letting your softness flow through your fingertips as you tried to adjust. 

Argyle also tried to wear you down. A casual arm around your shoulder in greeting, frequently sitting close enough to you on movie nights that your side would press into his as you both enjoyed the pizza he’d brought. You still froze, still struggled to thaw, but you never shooed him away. You’d only exchange a secret smile with him, a private acknowledgement between you two that you knew what he was trying to do, and it was okay. Maybe it would work. Robin had, after all, made some baby steps. Maybe Argyle could help you take fuller strides. Maybe, just maybe, this could propel you. 

The night you drunkenly braided Argyle’s hair had been a memorable success, but it never progressed past that. The roots remained, the timid natured reigned, and so your friend group simply celebrated what little victories they’d earned and moved on.

They’d accepted you may never be a touchy person. And that was fine — all that you lacked in physical touch, you more than made up for in every other avenue in expression of your fondness. 

Until Eddie.

The moment he’d joined your circle, Argyle and Robin were already exchanging knowing looks. Eddie was touchy; the boy was practically starved for it. Overexcited hugs as greetings and the way his hand would reach for the nearest shoulder when he was overcome with joy for the small things. He couldn’t sit alone during movie nights, he’d often lounge with his legs stretched out over the nearest laps, he’d jokingly cuddle into people without a second thought.

And even more than that, his touch was wild and burning. Embers never to be contained. He was overwhelming, they all knew this and so did he, and they feared that if he attempted to embark on the same journey that they had that he may scare you away. That all the baby steps in the right direction would become leaps backward, sending you right back to where you started. 

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

You’d first noticed that Eddie treated you differently, more restrained, during a movie night. Argyle on one side, a small empty space on the other. You’d witness everyone endure Eddie’s cinematic cuddles on multiple occasions, and amongst your roots had bloomed buds of wistfulness. A strange yearning every time he’d tuck his face into the neck of whichever friend was nearest, jokingly squealing how he needed them to protect him. They saw him as a pest (a lovable one, but still) — and you’d never wanted to be pestered more in your life. 

That small space beside you was the last open seat. You thought surely, he’ll sit here. You were optimistic at the likelihood of Eddie sharing your space, of feeling his curls tickle your cheek and neck, at his breath on your shoulder. For the first time in your life, you were painfully giddy at the prospect of someone touching you. When he entered the room with Jonathan, carrying bowls of popcorn and loudly telling everyone to turn on the horror movie chosen for the night, your entire body had buzzed. You would have leapt off that couch and crawled inside his chest right then and there if it wouldn’t have been so startling to not only him, but your entire circle.

He took one look at the empty seat, a pitiful excuse for space, and had paled.

Please sit next to me. Please, please, ple-

“Spread your legs, Harrington,” Eddie had suddenly bursted out, throwing himself on the floor in front of Steve at the opposite end of the couch, “I’m using your knees as collateral from Krueger.” 

He chose the floor over sitting at your side. And it ached. 

You were unaware of the spiel that Robin and Argyle gave him, the staunch warnings from Nancy, the (sort of) joking threats from Steve and Jonathan. Eddie Munson had been warned off from touching you, was obeying those warnings, and it just left you miserable. 

You didn’t get it. You didn’t understand — his choices nor your feelings. 

But that night, the burn of Argyle’s arm brushing your shoulder from where it laid along the back of the couch became overwhelming. Until you’d scooted yourself into that space you’d carved out for Eddie, and pouted, like a goddamn child.

Argyle assumed it was just a bad day for touch.

No one realized the yearning blooming within you. You’d never wanted to take a baseball bat to Steve Harrington’s shins more than when you watched Eddie Munson wrap his fingers around them and bury his cheek against them. 

The second time, it stung even more.

Months passed and the yearning never faded. You told yourself, over and over, this will pass. This is temporary, and it will pass. 

But it didn’t. The more time you spent with Eddie amongst your friend group, the more you craved the same casual touch from him that he extended to everyone else. He wouldn’t even brush past you in enclosed spaces — he treated you like a traumatized dog, bound to snap and bite him if he made the wrong move.

You fucking hated it. You hated that you hated it.

You’d gone years without needing touch, so you cursed that unexpected sting in your chest that night at the bowling alley. When Eddie rolled his first strike (and reported it was his first ever), he’d hugged everyone.

Everyone but you.

When it came to what should have been your turn for a bear hug, your mind was buzzing with adrenaline. This was it. You pictured him wrapping his tattooed arms around your chest, lifting you at least a little bit, swinging you a little due to the force of his affection. You were convinced his high off of the strike was going to make him forget his mission to never touch you. Maybe he’d be embarrassed after. Maybe you could finally offer a small smile that said it’s okay, I’m okay with it.

He only stopped dead in his tracks, arms freezing for a second before they dropped, his lips pressing tightly together before he let them spread back into a smile, and only lifted his brows at you excitedly. 

That’s it. That’s all.

Fuck. 

“That was pretty metal, Eddie,” you tried to egg him on, bouncing on the soles of your shoes a little, practically begging him with your eyes to just hug you. 

He’d been bashful, grinning and hiding his face behind a random curl, nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it was.” 

If you’d known of the talks behind your back then that had ruined that moment, you would have wrecked absolute havoc on your friends. The need, the yearning, the want became impossible to handle. You used his strike as an excuse for him to cover your turn, saying he was on a roll right after exclaiming that if you didn’t go to the bathroom right that second, you’d piss yourself.

When you were alone in the stall, you’d silently screamed and tugged at the roots of your hair. 

You wanted him to touch you. You wanted him to catch you off guard in larger than life hugs. You wanted to feel every emotion that thrummed beneath his skin and you wanted to breathe in his cologne, to finally know how sturdy his chest felt beneath his shirt and if his rings really were as cold as Nancy always complained. 

You’d finally returned to the group, not able to have a full breakdown in the bathroom without worrying your friends with your absence. Subtly, you’d tried to tuck yourself into Robin’s side when you returned, sitting down a bit closer than you normally would have, just to fill the void. It was almost as if you were encouraging her to reach an arm around you, to let you curl up and press a cheek to her collarbone. Try to alleviate the need for human touch clawing its way through you.

“You okay, babe?” she questioned suspiciously when she felt you squished entirely up against her. There was plenty of space on the bench, there was no reason for your proximity.

No, you wanted to scream, I’m not okay. There is an itch beneath my skin right now that can only be scratched by the affectionate touches of the metalhead sitting across from us who’s joking with our friends, completely unaffected and unaware. He won’t even look me in the eye. And so now I’m trying to get you to just touch me, to just put a goddamn arm around me, to do anything to fill the gaping hole inside of me. But you can’t. 

It was an unfair situation to every single party and bystander involved.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied. 

You can’t, because the only person who can fill this gaping void inside of me is Eddie.

You were the farthest from fine. You were in flames. And no one would understand it, least of all you, because this wasn’t like you.

You didn’t crave touch. You didn’t need it to survive. So, what the hell was this that you were feeling? 

The craving for Eddie’s touch evolved into something more, and that’s when you knew that you were surely in trouble. 

Audible denial only worked for so long. Festering, longing, and yearning could only be withheld for so long until suddenly, with your mind on fire and your bones aching to the core, you realized that it was more than wanting Eddie to reach out for you. The want became a two way street. More often than not, you find your hands to be fists at your side, shaking with the effort to not bridge the gap. 

After a year of friendship, he had had no choice but to occasionally brush past you. Touches that must have been fleeting to him, but lingered for you. They’d settle into your skin, tender like a fresh bruise, ghosting over you at night when you couldn’t sleep. It was more than just touch, at this point. You wanted everything from Eddie. The denial of his touch had led to you missing out on more than just hugs and movie night cuddles — Eddie didn’t joke with you as much as he did the others, didn’t always turn to you in crowded rooms for comfort, wouldn’t call you up if he was up late and bored like he would Nancy, Steve, Robin, Argyle, fucking everyone in Hawkins except you. The distance was unbearable.

Because you did. You did look for him at every quaint hang out. You did seek him out in every room you entered and you did resist the urge to call him when sleep evaded you. You could imagine his voice over the line, a lullaby over the receiver as he’d ramble about his day. It was like a poison, infecting those roots you’d long since made friends with rather than try to dig up. 

You were fucked. Plain and simple. You had a big, fat crush on Eddie, and for once in your life, you’d learned of the panging hunger to be touched. 

“Does Eddie have a girlfriend?” you asked as you sat with Robin at a diner, having completely zoned out with the conversation between her and Steve, lost in your daydreams, “Or boyfriend? Just- Is he single?” 

Both of your friends went dead silent, staring at you in awe.

Robin cleared her throat, but remained choked up until Steve spoke, “Uh, yeah. He’s single. Why?” 

The way your eyes darted down to the table of the booth you three occupy gave it away.

Robin suddenly squealed, “Oh my gosh! You have a crush on him!” 

“Do not!”

“Oh, you so do!” she grinned wildly, leaning in close, “Tell us everything — now.” 

“Eddie?” Steve’s nose scrunched up, “Really?” 

“I don’t have a crush on him!” you uselessly defended yourself, “I just- Look, no, I know that look. You can’t tell him or meddle, Robin.” 

“How would I tell him or meddle if you don’t have a crush on him?” 

Steve was still confused, and Robin’s eyes glittered with mischief. You would have been better off keeping your mouth shut. 

You noticed the way Steve had gone silent, pointedly sipping on his coke rather than looking you in the eyes. As if he had something to say.

“What is it?” you asked him, furrowing your brows, already defensive. A stark contrast to the light-heartedness you usually treat your friends with, “You’ve got something to say. Say it.” 

“I just…” Steve sighed, looking off into the distance, “I don’t know. It’s a weird pairing, y’know?”

Your stomach threatened to sink. “What does that mean?”

“You two are just… different,” he continued on, and your stomach really did sink. Right along with your heart, “I mean, he’s really big on physical touch — it’s definitely his love language. And you…”

You don’t like being touched. You actually hate it. Avoid it ardently.

The unspoken ending to that sentence could have shattered your bones that day. You knew. You knew.

You stayed silent, unsure of what else to say. You couldn’t find the words to explain the yearning that invaded your chest all those moons ago, you couldn’t physically bring their hands to your chest and force them to feel the hunger that had begun to eat you alive. You couldn’t scream at your friends, I can change! I can change! I can change!

“I think they’d make a cute couple,” Robin finally broke the tense silence. Steve looked a bit regretful, but you both knew he was right, “Besides, touching is overrated.” 

To emphasize her point, she scooted away from Steve until she sat on the very edge of the vinyl seat they shared, a narrow air of separation between them. 

You smiled and laughed, and so did Steve, but the fact of the matter still remained.

Your roots have been there since the beginning of time. And maybe, they ran so deeply that you were a fool for thinking you could ever excavate them. 

“I need your help.” 

Robin looks up at you shocked. You’d never looked quite so determined, so one-track minded as you did in this moment, right in Steve Harrington’s kitchen. 

“You need my help?” she nearly yells, fumbling with the empty bowl she was about to fill with chips, “Are you sure you need my-“

“Positive,” you cut her off, “I need your help because you didn’t laugh in my face when I said I liked Eddie.” 

Her shock fades, an awful trace of pity in her eyes as she looks at you, “Oh, hon — Steve wasn’t laughing at you. He’s just a dingus, y’know? Doesn’t always think before he speaks, but he has the best of intentions-“

You wave a hand, physically dispersing her words into the air. That conversation at the diner last week didn’t phase you anymore. In fact, it fuels you the more you think about it.

“I know, I know,” you reassure her, walking closer so you can lower your voice, “But he was right. And I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

“That sounds dangerous. Whatcha’ been thinkin’ about?” 

This is it. Now or never. Once you say it outloud, even to just Robin, it was cemented in fact.

“It’s not that I don’t like being touched,” you blurt out, heart racing at the admission, “I just… I don’t know. I’m not used to it. It wasn’t something normal growing up. And… okay, no, this is not meant to be a depressing deep dive into my childhood,” you pause and scowl at the way her face contorts with even more pity, “I’m fine. There’s nothing to be done to change what’s already passed. My point is, I don’t want to stay this way. I don’t want people treating me delicately. I’m tired of you guys not feeling like you can just- fuck, I don’t know, hug me. Like you can throw an arm around me while we joke around like you do Jonathan. Like you can’t take the seat beside me at the booth instead of Steve. Like you can’t be clingy and beg me to play with your hair like you do Argyle when everyone’s smoking.”

Throughout your speech, the pity transforms. With each word, you only grow more passionate, because it dawns on you just how much you miss out on. Your friends love you, you love them — that’s not up for debate. But sometimes, you see those small touches between them, and you feel like an outsider looking in. 

“I know I freeze up and I know I get awkward,” your voice finally chokes up, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to silently curse yourself for finally letting all these larger than life emotions wrap around you, “I know you guys think I’m better off if you leave it be. But I’m not. I’ll never get over it if you guys don’t push me. I’ll never get used to it if no one ever touches me.” 

“We know!” Robin starts enthusiastically, reassuredly, “We know that! And me and Gyle really do try, but we just don’t want to make you uncomfortable-“

“Do it,” you stop her in her tracks, eyes not wavering from hers, “Make me uncomfortable. Put your head on my shoulder, even if it makes my breathing stop for a couple seconds. Grab my hand when we cross a street, even if my palm’s clammy. I can’t grow without a little discomfort, Robs.”

There’s a standstill in the air. A realization settles deep in your bones — growth. That’s what you were craving. Eddie had opened up something entirely new for you, cracked open an age old wound in your chest you’d been unaware of. It left behind a hole, and you’d been so preoccupied with yearning to fill it, you hadn’t seen that the solution was the most obvious one: you had to outgrow the hole. Not fill it with others, but with yourself. You couldn’t live forever as nothing more than roots, buried deep beneath soil and always hiding in their solitude. Eventually, you had to bloom. 

“Okay,” Robin nods slowly, taking in your words and the deep breaths that are following. It’s obvious how much this means to you, how much it’s been bothering you, “You’re right. But… you’ve just gotta promise us, if we get overbearing, that you tell us-“

“Not just you and Argyle,” your mouth goes dry. Because this is where the road was leading the entire time, this was the end destination in mind for the entire drive of this conversation, “I want… everyone to do it. I know Nance, Jon, and Steve aren’t as big on the whole touchy thing as you and him but…” your voice finally breaks, and you can’t look her in the eyes now as you whisper, “Eddie is.” 

There’s a light behind Robin’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, but you can’t even bear witness to it, eyes zeroed in on the shiny packaging of the chips on the counter, “So this really is about Eddie?” 

You could keep denying it. Pretend like the boy hadn’t watered the first sprout that caused this entire revelation, like he hadn’t been the first to shine a light on all the things you’d ignored for years. But he was. He had built a fire inside of you without even realizing it, just by tending his own embers. 

You take a deep breath, “It’s like it burns him to touch me. Even just shuffling past me. I don’t think he’s ever sat beside me when we all hang out. I don’t… I don’t even know what he really smells like, Rob. Besides the weed and cigarettes when he smokes with you guys. How fucked is that? I’ve known him for a year and I couldn’t even tell you what kind of cologne he wears. Isn’t that… that’s weird, right?” 

“You know the things that matter, though, don’t you?” 

It hadn’t occurred to you, that perspective on the matter. “I… guess?”

“Tell me about him. Tell me about Eddie.” 

The others will be worrying about how long you two are taking in here soon. Eddie will probably be arriving with Argyle soon. But Robin waits patiently until your eyes finally find hers again, and she lifts her brows, encouraging you to tell her about your mutual friend as if she’s never met him. 

And so you do.

Once you start rattling off the minute things you noticed, they pour out of you, watering away at that once withered crush. You tell her about his favorite music, an easy thing to know about Eddie when he’s so loud and passionate about it. You tell her the first song he ever learned on guitar, Little Things by Willie Nelson. It had been encouraged by how much his Uncle Wayne enjoyed the singer. And he’d learned it on a worn acoustic guitar from his uncle. He’d never even performed it in front of the man, always either too choked up or too embarrassed for an audience. You tell her how his favorite subject in school was history, because it always gave him ideas for his DnD campaigns. His favorite color is red, deep and pulsing and eye-catching. The same shade of his electric guitar, lovingly nicknamed Sweetheart, but actually named Elvira. He’s a picky eater, probably the pickiest of your group, and yet also will eat just about anything the moment you propose it as a dare. He knows what he should do to take care of his curls, he just doesn’t, probably due to preferring to take his showers at night. He’s complained of falling asleep with wet hair more times than you can count. He had a lisp as a little kid. He buys a new mug for Wayne every Christmas, and the man acts surprised every year, as if he never saw it coming. He likes sour candy best. He hates movies where the dog dies. He loves musicals, and he would sooner die than admit that to the rest of the group. 

All devilish details that Eddie had revealed to you at some point or another, over drinks and over quick cigarettes. Over random bursts of trust and rare moments alone.

By the time you’re done with your rant, Robin is just smiling.

“God, you really like him,” she murmurs, looking across your forlorn face, as if each piece of him that you’d handed over willingly had actually been forcibly torn from you. As if it hurt to share him. 

You take another deep breath, and you can breathe a little bit easier, but you still feel the wisps of your roots still dug stubbornly into surrounding ground, “Yeah. I really like him.” 

A plan is devised. It turns out Robin was the perfect person to approach about this, because she has no shame — she’s willing to seem like a ‘bad friend’ for the sake of helping you reach your goal.

The first step is to guarantee that no matter what, Eddie sits next to you during the movie. 

The best way to accomplish this is to not make it a seat only beside you as you had that first time he’d rejected you, but between you and another person. Because then, if Eddie was still adamant on not indulging you, he’d have someone else to cling to. For now.

The second step would be for you to leave for the bathroom right before you all started the movie. Leave the room, leave all your friends to be gathered without you so that Robin could make an executive call with them all. She would bring up the fact that they all should try to push you a bit more with the entire notion of physical touch, that it’d be good for you, that you’d brought it up casually rather than as dramatically as you really had. 

During her explaining of this part of the plan, you discovered the conversations already had behind closed doors about this topic and you. 

You couldn’t even blame your friends. You were irritated, but it would pass. They couldn’t change it now, but Robin could help undo what those seemingly beneficial conversations had done. The distance it had created between you and Eddie.

“Who should be on the other side of Eddie?” you ask once you two have your plan and full bowls of snacks. 

“Me,” Robin declares, “I have a plan there, too. We’ll sit side by side at first, take up enough space on the couch so that Eddie thinks he doesn’t have a seat. Just trust me and play along when the time comes, yeah?” 

You nod.

There’s a knock at the door, perfect timing as you and Robin sat down the bowls of snacks on the table, ignoring Steve’s expected complaint of how long you two took. He runs off, going to let Eddie and Argyle in, as Robin takes her seat on the couch. 

Nancy and Jonathan are curled up on the loveseat. Steve had been sitting at the end of the couch that normally could easily seat four. Argyle’s favorite recliner was wide open, and you both knew he’d be jumping into it once he came to the basement. Everything was set perfectly.

Robin manspreads, an entertaining sight but one that forces you to try and do the same, lounging across the remaining space of the couch as casually as possible to make it seem as though another person could absolutely not fit.

You pray to God her plan works.

“Hello, brochachos!” Argyle yells as a greeting when he bounds down the stairs, immediately tossing a box of snow caps in Nancy and Jonathan’s directions before doing exactly as you and Robin had predicted, “Oh, fuck yeah! You guys saved my favorite chair for me!”

He specifically winks your way, as if you had been the one to do so. And you had, technically, but you appreciated that small effort to greet you specifically. 

You smile at him, shaking your head lightly as he throws himself down roughly. You can only imagine how on board he’ll be with Robin’s suggestion.

Argyle’s energy had you wondering if the boys had even smoked as they usually did before arriving, his eyes hardly pink rimmed and his smile not quite as dopey as usual. It became clear that they had smoked, but one of them had likely babysat their shared joints, when Eddie descends into the doorway behind Steve.

He’s all half-lidded eyes, lazy grin, comfort wrapped up in a worn band shirt and sweats. 

Yes, you wanted to break this stubborn boundary of yours with all your friends, but as you earned your first glance from Eddie, you knew that he would be the greatest reward. You don’t even care if the crush aspect of the entire ordeal never comes to fruition; you’d just like to imagine burying your face into his warm chest like you are now, and not feel weird about it. Not worry if he’ll push you away or be uncomfortable, or taken off guard, by it.

“Hey, losers,” he greets in a rough voice, no doubt gravelly from how much he might have smoked. 

You share a quick look with Robin, worried. High Eddie was always extra affectionate, but wouldn’t it be wrong to use that against him? Maybe you two should try another night, postpone the plan for another movie nigh-

You hadn’t even noticed that Steve had taken his original seat back and Eddie was glancing around the seating arrangement, seemingly lost, until Robin was suddenly shoving at you, “Babe, I love you, but scooch. C’mere, Eds. I’m in a cuddly mood.” 

And oh, that hurt. Which is why you suppose she didn’t tell you what exactly this part of the plan was. That hurt needed to break through your face, even if only for a moment, so that when you left the room, it made sense to discuss. 

Argyle catches that micro-expression the moment it graces your features. Even furrows his brows in response. Eddie even opens his mouth to argue, but you move too quickly for anyone else to comment.

You fumble with pulling up your body, scooting over as she requested until there was an Eddie-sized space left between the two of you. When Robin opens her arms wide, Eddie has no room to argue. 

“Well, if you insist, Buckley,” he teases, stepping carefully, hesitating for a second as he glances back down at you. Even through pink tinged eyes, you catch a flash of concern. “I’m always down for some cuddles with my favorite girl.”

And that also stings, reverberates like a slap to the face that had landed just a little too harshly. 

Robin scoffs, muttering a stern correction of, “Platonic cuddles, dipshit,” just as Nancy also laughs from where she’s tangled with Jonathan.

“Didn’t you say I was your favorite when I bought you a coke last week?” 

He probably did. He constantly made those jokes with Robin and Nancy. He never made those jokes with you. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about respecting boundaries for Eddie. Maybe he just didn’t like you-

“You both wound me,” he sighs out as his body lands directly in that space you and Robin had organized, clearly favoring being close to Robin so that his thigh wouldn’t rub against yours, “I’ve officially changed my mind.” 

It almost happens in slow motion. Slowly, carefully, he lazily turns his head towards you, lips half lilted as his eyes sparkle in your direction, tongue darting out between his teeth before he drawls, “You’re my favorite, now.” 

For the first time in a year, you’re very clearly smelling his cologne, and the look in his eyes is setting you ablaze. The softness you are so used to bargaining out is being returned, an expression so delicate being aimed at you that you don’t know what to do with it. Senses overwhelmed with something woodsy, something musky, and something yearning. 

“How charming,” Nancy muses, leveling you with a soft and amused look. Not nearly as gooey as the look Eddie had given you, but still adoring, “Don’t listen to him. Clearly, he says that to everyone.”

“Yeah, but I mean it this time,” he argues. 

“Sure, you do,” Steve laughs from his end of the couch, “She’s not gonna go grab you a soda just because you’re kissing ass.” 

“Hey, you know what?” Argyle sits up in his chair, leaning towards you and pointing his finger in your direction, “You really are my favorite, and I’m a man of my word.” 

“I’m not getting you a soda, either, Gyle,” you flatly joke, narrowing your eyes.

He pours briefly, but shrugs, “Fair enough. I meant it, but fair enough.” 

On a limb, you stretch out a hand, and deliver a gentle smack at his hand still hanging limply in the air between you two. Robin is watching on proudly as Argyle looks taken back.

“Shut up,” you giggle, shimmying in your seat to get more comfortable. 

Eddie looks wildly around the room, completely stunned, wearing a look of betrayal, “What, you guys don’t believe me? She really is my favorite!” 

Lord only knows you were melting into the cushion of that couch. You weren’t used to this amount of attention, certainly not from Eddie, and certainly not so clearly in front of your friends.

If you could hardly handle his words of affection, how would you handle his touches of affection? 

“I believe you,” you finally say. Something in your mind screams at you, tells you now is your chance. All you’d have to do is shift your knee, and you could bump it to his in a joking manner. The perfect excuse. The perfect guise. You stare at your two knees for an eternity, though, and before you know it, the moment has passed. 

The ache echoes out across the hollow of every bone inside your body as he smiles, satisfied with your response before everyone moves forward with conversation.

You hate yourself. You should have bumped your knee to his. 

You don’t hear a single word exchanged amongst your friends. All you can hear is the roar in your ears that scorns you for another missed opportunity. 

Now is as good as ever to enact the second phase of the plan. 

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom before we start the movie,” you announce, standing a bit suddenly but trying to keep your voice even so it doesn’t seem to Eddie that his words had made you uncomfortable. They didn’t. They’d only fed that hunger, making you suddenly need more. It was your own stupid indecisiveness, what you didn’t do, that was upsetting you. 

Robin looks up knowingly, “Sounds good. Don’t miss me too much, babe.” 

Babe. Another thing your friends sometimes didn’t include you in — all the pet names, all the terms of endearment. It makes you smile. 

If anyone thought you might be rushing out due to the entire conversation that had just taken place, that smile would erase all their fears.

“I always miss you, baby,” you cockily reply, making a joking kissy face in her direction to seal the flirtatious manner of the interaction. 

Steve looks pleasantly surprised, Argyle is clearly mentally cheering you on, and Nancy looks plainly proud. 

But Eddie is looking up at you, doe eyes almost… sad. 

You try not to think of it too hard. 

You try to take your time once you reach the top of the stairs, rushing up but slowing as you walk to the bathroom.

You didn’t really need it, obviously, and you highly doubt anyone will be listening in on your footsteps above once Robin proposes the entire debate of it treating you so fragile anymore. In the middle of the hallway, your mind is made up. Instead of continuing on to that bathroom, instead of hiding away and feeding into the panic attack currently brewing despite your full faith in Robin, you retract to the kitchen.

This is what you wanted. You want more than to just offer soft words and soft motivation, you want more than to be seen as the friend with a heart of gold, as the pedestal Argyle constantly puts you up on so eloquently. You want to be felt as it, too. 

To give Nancy well-deserved hugs when another one of her publications receive recognition, to give Steve’s hand a firm squeeze when he’s confiding in you about his home situation and the loneliness that follows. You want Robin to hide her face in your shoulder for safety during jumpscares and you want to occupy that recliner with Argyle when you both decide to succumb to snacking while your friends endlessly debate where you should all have dinner, making whispers of commentary jokes before Jonathan would decide to sit on the arm and join you two in the audience as he gave up the battle for Nancy’s sake.

You want Eddie to touch you. You don’t even care how at this point. You want brushing shoulders and knocking knees, you want knuckles bumping into each other on the street and you want him to cling to you when it gets late and he’s tired, but not too tired to keep himself surrounded with his favorite people. You want to truly be his favorite. Favorite person, favorite hug, favorite conversation. 

God, you want it so bad that your seams nearly burst. Your composure nearly breaks. 

What if he doesn’t want that? 

The moment your footsteps on the stairs have vanished, Robin springs into action.

“Okay, group meeting,” she says, clapping to garner everyone’s attention. Eddie jumps slightly at her side, Steve offers her a side-eye, and Nancy shifts her entire body in Jonathan’s arms to look at her fully, “We need to talk about her.” 

She doesn’t even have to say your name.

Unfortunately, Argyle takes it the wrong way, nearly leaping out of his chair, “Her? Nah, dude, we need to talk about you. Why would you shove her around like that? I bet if you had just asked politely, she would have cuddled yo-“ 

“Oh, I know she would have.” 

Everyone’s attention is now sharper on Robin.

“Yeah? Then why did you just toss her to the side for Ed-“ Argyle starts up again, and once more, Robin is quick to interject.

“Because she needs the push,” a slight lie, but small enough in the grand scheme of things, “We’ve gotta stop treating her like she’ll shatter if we touch her.”

Nancy finally moves to full sit up, face full of concern, “Robin, I get what you’re saying, but she’s never been the touchy type. And that’s okay. We’ve never minded.”

“What if she minds?” Robin persists. She hasn’t failed to notice Eddie’s silence, and turns to him, focusing her attack and determination, “Have you ever even sat beside her before tonight?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, “You guys told me to take it easy at first! And I did, but I- it would just be weird now to change, wouldn’t it?” 

It’s in the way he says it. Not just as if he’s keeping your best interests in mind, but as if it pains him to say it. As if the worst possible thing would be to admit that things should stay the same.

It’s Robin’s in. A falter in his cool guy exterior he only seems to care about maintaining for you.

“She wants it to change,” Robin quietly confesses. Another half-truth, “Me and Argyle never fully got through to it, but we also… we just gave up on it. Like he was saying, if I pushed tonight, she would have said yes. But Eddie has never pushed her.”

“Where are you going with this, Robs?” the one person who could blow this speaks up. Steve, the man who had been there at the diner and heard your practical confession to liking Eddie.

Don’t blow this, Dingus.

“I think we take the leash off of wolf boy, here,” she jabs a thumb in Eddie’s direction, “Lay him on her.”

“I don’t want to make her uncomf-“

“You won’t. And if you do,” Robin remembers your speech from earlier. Those wet eyes and the way your voice cracked at the prospect of growth, “It’ll be good for her.”

He’s not convinced.

So Robin pushes, because she made a promise to you to aid in this self-gardening journey, and damn it she was going to keep her promise, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You being the dog in this metaphor might be the wrong choice, considering how she looks like a kicked puppy every time you don’t sit next to her.” 

A bit harsh, but the truth. You were always brimming with such hope when Eddie entered the room, only to wilt when he kept up the same exhausting routine of avoiding you. 

“She does?” he’s clueless, a goddamn blinded fool, “I- Gyle, does she really?” 

Eddie looks to his friend for backup, but Argyle only shrugs from his seat, “If you don’t give the poor dudette a hug tonight, I am. If Birdie here is being honest, and she wants it, then I’m first in line. She’s way gentler on my scalp than all of you.” 

“You just want your hair braided by her again,” Jonathan pipes up finally.

“So?” Argyle defends, “That shit stayed. My little skittish friend does not come to play when it has to do with hair.” 

They all fall silent, holding their breaths and listening for a moment if you’re heading back down to them. 

The house is a ghost town from above.

“I’m just saying,” Robin finally whispers, keeping her tone low and gentle, almost defeated, “We can’t put her in a box. She told me she’d like the change, so I’m changing. She’s a big girl. She can handle it. Besides, she smells really good.” 

Robin gives Eddie a pointed look at that, and sees the pink that rushes over the bridge of his nose and up his neck.

You had no idea. No fucking idea. But she did. She’d watched Eddie withhold himself, she’d caught the longing glances, and she’d listened to his endless rambles about you. 

“Okay,” is his quiet reply just before your footsteps sound on the stairs. 

When you appear in the doorway, you’re holding three cans of coke.

“I bring gifts for taking so long,” you offer, holding up one of the cans as you cradle the other two in the ditch of your arm, extending it to Argyle as you pass by him.

He takes it greedily, appreciation loud and unfiltered, “Thank you dudette! At least someone here loves me.” 

You turn your eyes wide as moons, almost comical, fighting back a smile, “Oh? Were they being jerks while I was gone?” 

“You have no clue.”

A warning glare comes from Robin.

Even if you were in on the plan, it was dangerous territory. 

When you approach the couch, Robin sees the first sign of the plan working when Eddie doesn’t shift out of the comfortable position he’d sunk into. He isn’t jumping to leave an entire cavern for you. He’s leaving just enough space for you, enough that when you sit, you’re closer to him than you were before the bathroom.

Baby steps. Silently, she is screaming at him to keep it up, all while your brain bursts into flames.

He didn’t flinch away. He didn’t shift to be further from me.

Whatever Robin had said was working.

“Movie time?” you ask as you settle into that comfortable space, the unfamiliar yet indulgent warmth of Eddie’s body heat now wrapping around you. 

Your roots stretch, apprehensive, but desperate for that sunlight. 

It’s one of your group’s usual scary movies. You enjoyed horror, and could handle your own pretty well. If you ever got too scared, you’d usually cling to pillows or blankets that you were left with rather than another person as the rest of the group would. But there were no pillows, no blankets, no security cushions aside from the boy sitting between you and Robin. 

When you hand him his coke, his fingers brush yours, and you don’t pull back immediately. Baby steps.

When the first tense moment appears on screen, Eddie mutters a soft “shit” and jumps a little, leaning more into your space rather than Robin’s, lifting some of his curls to curtain his eyes.

You glance at him rather than the screen, narrowing your eyes in the dark, “Does that really work?” 

Eddie looks at you quickly at your whisper. Normally, everyone scolded him to be quiet during movies, never entertaining his small comments.

You weren’t the only one taking baby steps tonight.

Tentatively, he drops the curl blocking his vision, before grabbing a thicker one, boyish grin as he offers it to you shyly, “Wanna find out?” 

“She’s here!” Argyle shouts as he opens the front door to you, hardly giving you warning before he’s leaping forward and gathering you into his arms, nearly crushing you into a hug.

Warmth. Tender. Softness.

Argyle’s hugs are always bone-crushing, and always welcome. And they always linger as he leaves his arm around your shoulder to guide you into the foyer and shut the door behind you two.

“She is?” another voice shouts as she comes barreling out into the entryway, greeting you with an excited squeal as she rushes forward to pull you out of Argyle’s arm.

Robin. 

She’s dressed up for the night — an impressively well put together Robin outfit, complete with yellow spanx and a black mask across her eyes.

“Jesus, Robs,” you laugh as she tightens her arms around you, almost as if she was trying to crush any bones that survived Argyle, “I can’t breathe.” 

“Don’t care,” she mumbles into your shoulder before pulling back, “Nice costume.” 

A bat onesie. Cheesy, but comfortable, and warm enough to battle against Hawkin’s autumn chill. It’s even complete with a headband that has two small, perky ears attached to it, peeking out between tufts of your hair atop the crown of your head. 

“Thanks. Wait till you see the killer fake teeth I packed.” 

“Eds will be pissed if your fangs are better than his,” Argyle notes as he starts to walk into the living room. You follow, Robin close behind, to find the rest of your friends all waiting.

A scary movie is already on the TV, a classic slasher revealed by the high pitched scream that rings out into the room from it. There’s a few indoor decorations about — plastic jack-o-laterns and fake webs that will no doubt give Steve hell when he tries to take them back down — and you can see a punch bowl on the counter by where Nancy and Jonathan reside. 

And the man of the hour is lounging on the couch, a high mountain of pile already in front of him on the table as he munches on a family pack of candy corn. 

“Eddie, isn’t the candy supposed to be for trick or treaters?” you question teasingly as you make a beeline for him. His previous focus on the movie vanishes, full attention now on you.

He’s dressed like a vampire. If the cape didn’t give it away, that small blood line marked from his lower lip in a shade of lipstick you would guess he borrowed from Nancy does.

“I am a trick or treater, sweetheart,” he retorts, popping more candy into his mouth for emphasis, “Besides, Harrington has full-sized candy bars.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He snaps his jaw closed jokingly, the clicking of his teeth making you huff out a laugh as you collapse next to him. 

That woodsy cologne is there, one you’re so happily familiar with these days. 

Unlike Argyle and Robin, he doesn’t greet you with an overwhelming hug, or palpable excitement. His way of greeting is more subtle. His arm slowly lifts, going to rest on the back of the couch behind you, but quickly falling to your shoulders when you waste no time scooting closer into the space he’s opened up in his side.

You fit kind of perfectly. Like a void always meant to be filled. 

“So, Dracula,” you hum, warning your beating heart to slow from its racing when his palm cradles your shoulder farthest from him, “What are we watching?” 

Baby steps were a thing of the past for most of the group. They had become great leaps of faith after that fateful movie night. The way Argyle and Robin had crushed you was normal now. Passing touches and flirtatious jokes were regular between you and your friends. They had seen your boundary for what it really was, a roadblock, and bit by bit, they had broken it down. 

Eddie’s hesitation isn’t because he can no longer touch you. His hesitation whispered of something more, something different, something still delicate. Just as delicate as the fragile wings of the butterflies in his stomach that fluttered to life every time you entered a room. 

They weren’t new. And you still didn’t know they existed — that they had always existed. From the first moment he’d met you.

“One of the Halloween movies,” he tells you, leaning down to keep the conversation more private.

You felt his breath on your ear.  A new touch that happened more frequently now. One you sought after almost as vehemently as you had those first few points of contact. 

“Oh?” you play along, staying hushed, “How fitting.” 

“Very.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t make them put on a vampire movie. You know,” you cut off, and motion to his costume. You bump your knee to his as you do it, “Given your attire.” 

“Zee night iz ztill young,” he puts on an obnoxious accent meant to mimic Dracula himself, pronouncing all his ‘s’s as ‘z’s.

You only smile, wide and generous and soft and tender, before you lift a hand to punch at the flared collar of his cape. You don’t even hesitate, not even when your knuckles brush the side of his neck.

“Pretty killer, right?” he jokes, trying to ignore the warmth flooding his cheeks.

“Very,” you hum in approval, hand dropping as you lean back into the heavy warmth of his arm around you. You almost reach the hand up to his bottom lip to trace that makeup there, slightly smeared and edges rugged already from his snacking, but you do withhold yourself at that line, “I like the makeup.” 

“Yeah?” he lights up with pride, “You know, I did the eyeliner all by myself.” 

You squint pointedly, leaning in just an inch closer to inspect the feathered charcoal on his waterline, “Really? Very impressive, Eds.” 

“Stop flirting,” Steve demands as he leaves the kitchen, “You’re going to give him a bigger head than he needs.” 

You both break apart slowly, letting space settle between you two and slowly fading back into the real world and out of that little bubble between you two. Eddie’s arm remains — his palm never leaves you, going so far as to give you a playful squeeze as his finger trails down your bicep.

A pathway of spring roses feels as though they bloom along that trail. Vibrant, full of life, open to possibility. When it came to you, Eddie had one Hell of a green thumb. 

“Stop ruining the fun, big boy,” Eddie looks up at your friend, poking his tongue out as his nose scrunches. Adorable. Painfully so.

Steve is dressed as Batman. His mask is discarded somewhere on the counter beside the punch bowl.

“We have plenty of time for fun,” Steve waves off the comment, coming to stand in front of the TV with his hands on his hips, “Am I forgetting anything? I have candy for any kids that come knocking, we’ve got punch thanks to Nance, I ordered our pizza-“

“You better have ordered one with pineapple,” Eddie interrupts, tilting his head sideways in your direction, temple brushing against one of your fake ears, signaling how it was your favorite. You burrow yourself deeper into his touch.

Steve subtly ignores him, “-I have the big speakers set up if we wanna listen to any music in the backyard. Am I missing anything?”

Predictably, he wasn’t. Steve always thought of everything.

The last few months had been nice. Finally getting to enjoy Eddie’s touch had been more than you ever planned for, reveling in the way the boy was so gentle with you even as he finally gave in. Once he started, it was as if you both could finally breathe. A weight had lifted from Eddie’s shoulders just from the simple adjustment of now getting to sit beside you at every function, his bouncing knee always pressing into yours. It had become a silly tradition for him to offer to share that wild head of hair during scary movies, demanding if someone else tried to sit beside you during horror movies in particular that you needed him and his curls to protect you. 

You had gone from yearning for touches, yearning for that contact, to your friends arguing over who would be indulged that night. 

They had taken it slower than you thought you wanted (save for Robin), but in the end, it had all worked out. You didn’t freeze anymore. Your aversion to touch had slowly, slowly, withered away with each hug, with each clasp of their hands on you, with each casual cuddle session they pulled from you. You no longer felt like an anomaly. And it wasn’t that your friends had ever meant to make you feel like an outsider, but it felt like finally being let into a club you’d mourned being left out of for years.

The day that Eddie had grabbed your hand during a casual conversation amongst everyone while out for lunch, letting his thumb trail back and forth over your knuckles in a soothing motion, you’d nearly cried.

Something so delicate yet so telling. A quiet action of affection you’d spent so long telling yourself you couldn’t have. Back rubs during hugs, letting Argyle braid your hair in return, resting your head onto Robin’s shoulder instead of only vice versa. They were all things you’d denied yourself of for so long. You regret it, but you couldn’t change anything in the past, only the now.

And now, you had the boy who had first sprouted such affectionate want within you wrapped up against you, leaning into you for comfort as he started to ignore Steve again.

“Wanna go out back and smoke while he mother hens?” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. 

You both slip away out the back door unnoticed, a new banter sparking up between Robin and Steve being enough distraction to allow it. Eddie wastes no time digging into his jean pockets once he’s outside, throwing the cape out widely before he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. 

“Want one?” he offers, flipping it open in your direction.

You just smile, shaking your head, “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” 

You’d never really said that before to anyone in your group, only politely declining up until now. A small detail, but Eddie looks pleased to learn it all the same.

“Huh,” he curiously hums, pulling his own cigarette from the carton before tucking it back away, “I never knew that.” 

“I’ve never really told anyone,” you shrug.

“It is some big secret?”

“Nope.”

“Hmph.” 

This hum is muffled by the tip of the filter in his mouth, his hands now busy patting down his body for his lighter. 

“What?” 

His lips struggle to stretch around the tip of the cigarette without dropping it, solely from how wide his smile is, “I like learning new things about you.” 

For every thing you had once spewed at Robin that night, Eddie had learned of you tenfold. 

It was far past learning how your fingers fit between his or the smell of your perfume. He’d wanted it all; to know the inside workings of your mind, to be privy to all of your beautiful thoughts. The softness set in stone inside of you bled far past what could be felt in your fingertips or the care that shook your hand when you’d brush back stray curls out of his eyes. It fed deeper into you, into parts of you that Eddie could spend hours exploring without once growing bored. 

“You say that like I’m interesting,” you murmur half-heartedly, suddenly reaching out beneath his cape and tucking into his back pocket he could have sworn he already checked. His breath is the one that catches at your arm brushing against his waist from the reach, his body is the one that freezes up entirely just from proximity. A change of roles that you had never seen coming, but he’d always figured existed. You never understood the effect you had on him, and that was in part his fault. 

You produce his lighter like magic.

“You are interesting,” he insists as he plucks the lighter from you, flicking it three times to get a steady flame to burn the tip of his cigarette to life, “Don’t sell yourself so short, batty.” 

“Batty?” you snort, not moving away from him, even as he blows a thin and ghostly stream of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

He can only shrug, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, I didn’t like it either. Had to give it a chance, though.” 

In the quiet solitude of Eddie nursing his cigarette and you watching the trees rustle with the last remnants of daylight, something sharper invades the soft space you two seem to brew whenever together. Between your innards that are gentle by nature, and Eddie’s silken attitude not only in actions but attitude towards you, the spaces occasionally left between you two were always something dulcet. Calm. Welcoming. You’d come to discover that maybe, that’s why you’d always yearned to burrow yourself so deeply into those spaces. It was a feeling of comfort and a feeling of home that you had always seemed out, but never found that fit quite as right as these moments.

“Hey Eddie?” you ask aloud as he finishes off the cigarette, stomping it out on the ground with his boot.

“What’s up?” he answers, making no move to go back inside.

You always liked these moments alone best. From the very beginning. Even before he felt comfortable enough to step closer to you, shoulder to shoulder with you now. He’s trying to squint and see what you’re finding so interesting in the array of colorful leaves in the distance, slowly being covered in blue shadows rather than golden light, without asking. 

You liked that. You liked it a lot; the way he always seemed to seek out your perspective on things. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did-“

“Fuck off,” your hand flies up, and smacks his shoulder. You never would have done that before. But you do now, relishing that contact even in the briefest of moments. The freedom to reach out and touch.

Once he stops laughing, clearly amused with himself, he turns to face you. Whatever he had been searching for in the trees is long gone, and your focus has moved onto him now, so it’s futile.

“Ask away, sweetheart.”

A deep breath for bravery, and you’re blurting out, “Did you really only avoid touching me when we met because... the others… they told you not to?” 

He wasn’t expecting that question. The crease between his brows makes that clear. You almost take your thumb to it, try to smooth out the worry. But you’re not quite there yet. Maybe one day you would be. 

It’s not as loaded of a question as he thinks it is. It’s cute to watch him assume it is, though. 

“I mean,” he starts his words slowly, carefully, “I guess.”

“You guess?” 

“I guess,” he repeats.

Your smile is sending him into a tornado of emotion. He almost curls his hands into fist, just as you used to do. 

When you broke down your boundary, it had split a crack through his dam. He knows he can reach out and touch you. He knows you’ll accept his physicality without complaint now. It doesn’t make it any less scary. 

For the same reason you don’t press your thumb into his eyebrow crease — having a crush just makes you hesitate like that. 

“I’m obviously a touchy guy,” he throws his arms out, aimlessly, and when they return his side, they almost nick yours. You wish they would brush yours, “But… between you and me, I always get nervous around pretty girls.”

The world slows. It doesn’t stop, it can’t stop for two youths who are trying to explore new and giddy feelings — but my God, can it slow to an absolute crawl, if only for the two of you.

“You think I’m pretty?” you tease, swallowing down just how much those words mean. You always have to remind yourself it’s worth it; being just friends is worth it now that you’ve learned the exact brand of cologne he wears and recognize the weight of his arm around you. 

“The absolute prettiest,” he breathes out, “I always have. Even if they hadn’t told me to hold back, I would have- Hell, I still do,” the Autumn air makes him honest, makes him brave, “I am- I would be- I just- It’s terrifying, the thought of fucking it up because you turn my brain to… mush.” 

Your eyes lift up to his forehead blanketed in his bangs, squinty and entertained, “You’re telling me it’s all just soup in there right now?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Your friends are inside. There is candy to eat until your stomachs ache, and hugs to partake in until your bones have been crushed and pieced back together by threads of platonic affection.

Right now is anything but platonic. And it is time for something else to break, not your bones and not your boundaries. Something more. 

“I’m pretty sure your hand on my shoulder when we first met would have ended my entire world,” he confesses, starting the first crack.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you had hugged me every time you saw me, I don’t know if I would have ever found the nerve to leave my house.”

Another crack.

“And if I sat next to you every time we went out for dinner?”

“Wouldn’t have been able to eat a bite, I’m afraid.”

A spiderweb of cracks, all widening.

“And if I had laid my head on your shoulder during movie nights?”

“What the Hell is a movie?” he jokes, chuckling a bit nervously now, “Who knows? Certainly not me, certainly not when my favorite girl is curled up next to me.” 

One more crack, and the entire thing will finally shatter. You’re begging it to shatter. 

You bite your tongue on any remark about still being his favorite, because since that goddamn night, he’d never said Robin or Nancy were his favorites again. Never. He’d meant it. You were his favorite. 

“And if I just…” you pause as you step forward, leaning in slowly, and it takes everything in Eddie not to turn and run as your lips brush over his cheek as you whisper, “Kissed your cheek? Right here, right now?” 

He doesn’t respond, your lips press together and then press down. 

It shatters with a resounding snap that must be heard across Hawkins. Across Indiana. 

One moment, your lips are on his cheek, and the next, they’re on his lips. He turns his head quickly before any doubt or nerves or roots can interrupt the moment. 

Endless. Endearing. Warmth. Tenderness. Soft.

His lips are soft. So goddamn soft.

His hands are foreign things for a second, as if he’s in shock that he’d actually done it and kissed you. But they come back to life when your own lift to his neck, wrapping behind his neck and beneath the collar of that cape, pulling him in even closer to you. 

He kisses you. And kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. Till you’re both dizzy and it doesn’t matter that the earth won’t stop spinning long enough for you two to live in this moment. 

It should be unfamiliar, especially to you, but it isn’t. It’s as if the two of you have done this dance before. In another life, in another world, on another Earth far away from here. Your lips know his in this lifetime, and they will know his in the next — this first meeting only allows for a sigh of relief in the Universe, and in you. 

He paused the kisses briefly, palms cradling your face with care and intention, “Do you know,” he places his lips onto yours one more time, as if fearful that spending too much time apart will let you vanish, “how often,” another kiss, deeper this time, “I’ve wanted to do this?” 

A final peck. A period to the end of a sentence that the two of you had taken your time writing.

“No,” you laugh earnestly, fingers digging into the soft skin at his nape, reveling in the slip of his curls between your knuckles, “Maybe you should tell me about it.” 

“Tell you about all the times?” he’s leaning back in, lips brushing against yours. Just a touch, but it shakes you to your core, “All the times I wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss you?” 

You capture his lips in yours, unable to resist anymore. You’ve spent months resisting — his lips and kisses, his touches and brushes, his warmth and sunshine. You’re done resisting.

“Every,” you pull back and catch the glint in his eyes. He’s done, too, the rubble of the shatter, “Single,” you peck one cheek, “Last,” you peck the other, now rosey, “One.” 

You finally kiss his lips again. Your fingers tug harshly on his curls, and his mouth falls open at the unexpected sensation. Instead of taking this any further and starting something you’d never want to end, you do the adult thing — you nip at his bottom lip, a bite of adoration that leaves him with a sting to remember. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, chasing after you, but your hands press into his chest to keep him into place, “I- Sorry, was that too much?” 

“Too much?” you laugh breathlessly, shaking your head immediately. Once upon a time, it might have been too much. But now, it wasn’t enough. “No such thing, not with you.” 

“Careful,” his hands came up to cover your fists balled into the front of his shirt, moving so that his cape brushes against your sides now, “I’m known to be quite a handful, sweetheart.” 

You snort and grip his shirt even harder. “God, I sure hope so. You’ve been holding out on me, dracula.” 

“Oh, have I?”

His smirk and your smirk are perfect mirror images of each other. 

Eddie ignored his body as it begged for sleep, staring down at a map of Hawkins. He sipped on his cold cup of coffee, he wasn't sure how many he's had.

Wayne sighed as he looked at the young boy. His eyes were tired, dark circles underneath. His hair was a mess from his hands running through it. His body was hunched over the table as he focused. Wayne had enough. He yanked the map from the table and Eddie was quick to stand up.

Eddie argued, "Stop, I'm looking at that!" He was quickly becoming annoyed from both his exhaustion and his lack of progress with the case.

"Eddie, enough! It's been months. I know it's hard, but she's gone." Wayne said, aware that his tone was harsh. But he wasn't getting anywhere with Eddie. "The Byers kid came back but he's the only one, son. I'm sorry."

"It's hard?" Eddie said, slightly raising his voice, "Yeah, no shit, Wayne! My best friend just disappeared, and no one gives a damn. Even you don't give a shit."

"Watch your mouth!" Wayne warned. "I care for Y/N and miss her every day. I give a shit, I just know she's gone and there's nothing that can be done. You'll never be able to move on from this if you don't accept that. The cops have searched. We have searched. You have been looking everywhere for months. If she was here, we would've found her."

"It's not fair," Eddie cracked as he cried for the first time over it. He fought so hard to believe she was alive but it was now settling in that she was gone. "She had so much to live for. She had school. She had dreams. She wanted a family and a big house with all those annoying dogs. SHE WANTED TO LIVE!" he cried in frustration. He flipped the table over and Wayne quickly pulled him into a hug. Eddie sobbed into his chest. "I've wanted to die so many times and I'm still here. She didn't deserve to leave like this. And she deserves to be remembered. This town doesn't care about her."

Wayne sniffled as he held the crying boy in his arms. "I know, bud. I know." Wayne knew there was nothing he could do to bring comfort to Eddie's broken heart. All he could hope for was that Eddie learned to live without her. "We'll remember her."

A year passed and Eddie tried to move on as Wayne asked, but that didn't mean she was forgotten. He still kept up with the news reports and newspapers just in case her name was ever mentioned. Eddie already struggled with being alone, Y/N and Wayne were the only two permanent people in his life. He knew Y/N, he knew wherever she was that she was alive and fighting. He felt hopeless that he couldn't find his way to her. Her parents gave her a funeral but Eddie didn't go. There was no body to be buried and there was no body to mourn. Eddie felt it in his heart that she was breathing. If his heart was beating, then so was hers.

Now to the present day, Eddie found himself tangled into a whole different universe. He found out what happened to Will Byers through his new friend, Dustin. He joined the gang and learned about the upside down. No one wanted to get Eddie's hopes up, but Dustin said there was a chance she ended up there. The second the words left Dustin's mouth, Eddie was already asking how to get there.

"Hey man, this place is a death trap. None of it will be easy," Steve warned.

"You've all been there and made it back, right?" Eddie asked as he crossed his arms.

"Well yeah, but-"

"Nothing you say will stop me from going after her. Show me how to get in and you can leave me for all I care," Eddie said. The gang all looked at each other and nodded.

~

Eddie used his bathroom mirror to tie his bandana on his head. He saw his memories play through his head,

"And boom! Now it has more use than being in the back of your pocket," Y/N smiled. Eddie stared at her through the mirror, his eyes never once glancing at his hair.

"Looks great," he said.

"You're always handsome," she said, "but it's nice to see your face not hidden by your hair."

"...could you show me how to do it again? This time I'll watch." He wasn't interested before but when he realized that she found it attractive, he was willing to wear it all the time.

Laughing, she followed his instructions. To ensure he could do it himself, he carefully watched how she styled his hair.

A twist of his stomach reminded Eddie that the memory was fading, bringing him back to reality. He tossed on his leather jacket and left the bathroom.

"You ready?" Dustin called from the front door as Eddie came into view.

"Yeah, just one second," Eddie said as he walked into his room. He walked to his bedside table and grabbed a small picture frame. He smiled softly at the picture of him and Y/N. Eddie stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and head on her shoulder, as they stood in front of the small Christmas tree they had decorated for the trailer. Eddie wasn't big on the holidays since his family could never afford anything, but Y/N changed his mind on it all. "I'm going to bring you home," he whispered to the picture. He traced her smiling face and softly pressed his lips against the glass. He put the frame in its rightful place and walked out.

~

Eddie turned his stomach at the sight of the wet, dirty, and deadly place, his heart twisting at the thought of her being trapped there alone. "Where do we start?"

"It's the same as regular Hawkins. Where would she go?"

Eddie got on his bike and left without a word. Everyone quickly followed him, trying their best to keep up. They made sure to take in their surroundings at all times, aware that anything can be lurking. Eddie peddled as fast as he could down the street. He was inches away from the driveway when he got knocked off. He groaned as he landed on the concrete. He looked around and saw an army of bats flying above him. Quickly, the gang intervened, using their weapons to repel the bats. Eddie yelled in pain as he felt one of the bats bite at his arm. Fueled by anger and frustration, he reached up and grabbed the bat with his bare hands.

"STEVE!" he screamed. Steve turned around with his bat as Eddie launched the bird at him. Steve quickly swung at it, hitting it to the concrete. Eddie groaned as he stood up. He marched over and grabbed the bat from Steve's hands. He yelled as he beat the bat to nothing. Tired of the obstacles he'd encountered since she'd left, he was done. Nothing was getting in his way.

He stopped when he felt an arm on his shoulder.

"It's okay, man. We'll get her," Steve said as he took the bat. Nodding, Eddie walked toward the house, stepping over the dead bats. He opened the front door and quickly ran to her room. Pushing it open, he saw her bedroom. His heart felt heavy, a room identical to hers, a room he hadn't seen in over a year. Eddie remembered why he was there and began to search around.

"Y/N? You here?" He called as he searched all around her bedroom. Everyone else filled up the other rooms and called her name. Eddie checked every spot ten times, the frustration building as he realized she wasn't there. "Baby, please. If you're here, it's me. I promise nothing is going to hurt you. Just please tell me you are here." He closed his eyes as he begged.

He waited

And waited

And waited

"FUCK!" He cried as he punched the floor. He ignored his tears as he stood up. He tried to calm down his breathing, wanting to keep his mind focused. There was still a whole town to look through he kept reminding himself. He sat on her bed and took a second. He looked at all the posters on her walls and the frames on her dresser. His eyes moved to her nightstand where he saw a small mirror. Eddie wiped his cheeks as he saw his reflection. He grabbed it, his eyes focused on the picture taped on it. A small cut out photo of him and her at their middle school graduation. Eddie chuckled as he looked at himself, his hat on the ground covered in dirt as he flipped off the camera. Y/N was smiling and happy, completely oblivious to how the picture was going to turn out. Eddie remembered how quickly Wayne had yanked his finger.

"Is that you guys?" Dustin asked. Eddie jumped and quickly flipped the mirror over. He tried to hide the fact he was crying. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

Eddie shook his head, "no it's fine. Um yeah, middle school graduation. I remember she was so excited to go to high school and graduate...can't believe that was our only graduation together."

"Man, I'm so sorry," Dustin said. He knew Eddie wouldn't want it but he walked over and gave him a hug. Eddie stiffened as his face was shoved into Dustin's chest as he stood over him.

"Yeah, can you not hug me?"

Dustin respected the boundary and stepped back. "I fought to find Will. I wouldn't give up hope. He's now safe, and we'll find her too."

~

Eddie's hand shook as he opened his trailer door. He sighed in relief when there wasn't a monster on the other side. The gang followed behind him and quickly closed the door. They had searched the town for roughly over two hours and he still hasn't found her. He sighed and flopped on his couch. He closed his eyes and ignored the pain coming from his arm.

"Let's clean that up ," Dustin said as he pointed at Eddie's arm. His jacket was ripped and a trail of dried blood ran down his arm.

"It's fine," Eddie snapped. Dustin stepped back and gave him his space. The rest of the gang took a seat around him on the floor. They all sat in silence when suddenly there was a soft noise that came from his bedroom. Eddie sat up and looked down the dark hallway. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Yeah," Steve whispered. He gripped his bat and stood up. Everyone followed his movement. "I'll go check. Stay here."

Eddie was quite exhausted and already injured, so he honestly felt fine to let Steve take the lead. Eddie nodded and sat back on the couch. Robin went with Steve, just to be safe. They crept down the hallway and held their breath when they heard another noise. Steve slowly entered the room and tightened his grip on his bat. He looked around and didn't see anything. He frowned as he turned to Robin.

"There's nothing in here," he said confused. Robin went to walk in when there was another thud. Steve eyed the closed closet door and gulped. As he walked closer, he heard scratching. "Go get Eddie."

Robin nodded and quickly ran to get Eddie. When Eddie entered the room he saw Steve standing in front of his closet.

"I'm going to open the door, be ready to swing," Steve said as he handed Eddie the bat. Eddie gripped it and nodded that he was ready. Steve yanked open the door and Eddie prepared to step in front of him and swing but there wasn't a monster waiting for them. Eddie dropped the bat.

"Baby?" He whispered in shock. Y/N's body was hunched into a ball, face barely visible but he knew it was her.

He quickly dropped to his knees in front of her and reached out to touch her. "Shit! Shit!" He said when she was almost as cold as ice. "Get me a blanket!" Steve turned around and yanked every blanket off of Eddie's bed. "Hey it's me, it's Eddie. Can you hear me, sweetheart?" He asked as he gently patted her face. She looked dead. Her skin was discolored, she was covered in dried blood and her breathing was weak. "Can you open your eyes?"

She let out a low groan, and fought to open her eyes. She felt drained, exhausted and weak. She groaned again when she couldn't open them.

"Shh, it's okay. You are making sounds that's all I need." He said. He took the blankets from Steve and wrapped them around her. He picked her up and carried her out of the room.

"Holy shit!" Dustin said as Eddie came out holding a random girl. He could see the emotion all over Eddie's face, the girl was definitely Y/N. They all quickly left the trailer and raced to bring her back home.

~

Eddie refused to leave her side. She rested peacefully on his bed, back in regular Hawkins. He added another blanket on her as she shivered in her sleep. He tried his best to clean up her face without waking her up. She passed out shortly after they got out of the Upside down. Eddie thanked the gang for finding her and sent them back home. He climbed into his bed and wrapped his arms around her. She shifted, still asleep but felt his warmth against her and curled into his embrace.

He groaned as the morning came far too soon. He covered his eyes and rolled over as the sun shines through his window. His body hit another and he sat up. The events of yesterday played through his mind as he watched Y/N sleep peacefully. He continued to let her sleep and walked to the kitchen to prepare her some food and water. He could tell when he picked her up that she felt like bones. Her body showed how much she suffered. Not enough food, water or sleep. He hated to think of how much running and hiding she had to do in that place. Now that he has experienced the upside down, he didn't know how she survived all of it.

He checked his watch and sighed, Wayne wouldn't be home for a few more hours. He cracked some eggs and tried his best to scramble it, he barely cooked and it was easy to tell. After he plated the eggs and grabbed a glass of water, he walked back into his bedroom. He panicked when the bed was empty. He placed the plate and glass on his dresser.

"Y/N?" He called out. The room was silent. He looked out of his room to see if she went into the bathroom but the door was wide open and lights were off. "Y/N?" He asked again. He heard slight movement from the closet and he opened the door. He felt the déjà vu as he looked at her hunched over in the corner. He kneeled down and softly touched her leg. She snapped her head up in fear. He could see her brain trying to catch up as she looked around. "This isn't the upside down. I'm real and this is my real trailer." He tried to explain. "It's safe, come on out and I'll explain everything," he held out his hand and she took it. Her legs shook as she tried to stand and Eddie was quick to help her to the bed. Once he sat her down, she reached out to feel his body. She figured his body would vanish, that she was finally going to die and he was her final memory.

But her hand met his stomach, and she could feel his body. Eddie laced her hand with his and dropped to his knees. He stood tall so he could be eye level with her. She used her free hand to touch his face, and he couldn't help but melt into it.

"You're real?" She asked. Her voice began to shake as her eyes watered.

"I'm real," he said, releasing her hand and gently cupping her face. She instinctively reached up to hold his arms, sighing when his forehead touched hers. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere anymore." His voice cracked a little as she began to cry, tears blurring her vision. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he buried his face in her dirty hair as her tears soaked his thin sleepshirt. "I looked for you every day. I knew you were out there."

"I tried to escape. I just couldn't figure out how," she cried. He rubbed her back and cradled her head. She began to slowly feel at ease as she inhaled his natural scent.

"You stayed alive, that was the only thing you had to do. I will always save you." He promised. It felt like a promise he could keep because he wasn't letting her out of his sight. "I've missed you so much." She squeezed her arms around him as a response. She feared he'd slip away if she didn't lock herself to him.

"Learned from the best," she softly smiled. "You kept me going. I knew you'd find me." And it was the truth. Every second she spent in that place, she knew Eddie would find her. All she had to do was fight until then.

"How about some food and a shower?"

~

She finished her shower, and brushed her teeth, then found Eddie in his room. She wore some clothes he grabbed for her. She loved wearing his clothes because no matter how many times Wayne washed them, it still smelled like his cologne. Before she could say anything he walked over to her.

"I'm going to say and do something, even if you ignore it afterwards. I just have to because I can't lose another chance to," he stated. She could sense his anxiousness and wanted to help but he already wrapped an arm around her waist. She gasped as her body was pressed against his. She watched him with wide eyes as he closed his eyes and leaned in. She held her breath as she waited for his lips to touch hers. He pressed a soft and very light kiss to her lips, careful not to hurt her. He pulled away before she could react. "I love you. I never wanted to say anything because I knew I couldn't bear the thought of losing you so I never said anything. After you went missing and they tried to make me believe you were dead, I regretted never telling you. I know this is bad timing and you literally just got back but I couldn't hold it in."

She waited for him to open his eyes to say something. She could see the fear in his brown eyes when they fluttered open. She smiled and stepped closer to him. He felt less anxious at the warm smile and when she kept his arm wrapped around her.

"Do you remember Izzy in middle school?"

Eddie was confused by the question, but he did say she could ignore what he said. He slightly deflated but nodded. "Yeah, you broke her nose." Eddie laughed at the memory.

"I told you I punched her because she made fun of you," Eddie nodded as she continued. "She told me she had a crush on you and was going to ask you to her pool party. I got jealous and punched her."

"You what?" Eddie asked as he slightly laughed.

"I don't regret it," she said, "because she never asked you out. Eddie, I've been in love with you since I understood what it meant. Every time I thought I was going to die, I thought about you. I didn't care to see my family or my friends again. I prayed I'd see you before I left. When you found me, I thought my prayer was answered."

"I'm sorry I couldn't find you earlier," he whispered as he felt himself getting choked up again. "Fuck, tired of crying." He hissed. She softly laughed and nodded.

"Yeah me too," she sniffled. "Can I do something now?" She asked. Eddie nodded and she didn't waste a second to kiss him again. He held the back of her neck with his free hand as he kissed her back. This time, he allowed himself to kiss her deeper, lost in the moment. Y/N felt butterflies flutter around her stomach. Eddie's kiss was soft and warm, his touch sending shivers down her spine. All her dreams of this were nothing compared to reality. They kissed and clung to each other until their lungs burned for air. They stared at each other for a moment, smiling like idiots in love... because they were.

Eddie heard the trailer door open and the sound of keys hitting the counter. Y/N felt her heart race as she knew who it was. "I'll get him. Just wait here," Eddie said. He couldn't help but plant a quick peck on her lips. He knew he was never going to be tired of kissing her. He quickly went out before Wayne could make it far into the trailer.

"Hey, kid," Wayne sighed. He noticed a bounce in Eddie's step and was quick to question. "What's going on?"

"I have a surprise for you," Eddie said. He didn't want to ruin the moment by telling Wayne he told him so, instead he took the path Y/N would encourage. He kept his mouth closed and waved Wayne over. Wayne slowly followed behind Eddie and peered into the room. Eddie watched as the tears immediately filled Wayne's eyes.

"Oh my," he whispered. "My precious girl." Wayne didn't waste a second to bring her into a bone crushing hug. Eddie went to tell him to be gentle but Y/N waved her hand. She hugged him back just as hard. Wayne couldn't help softly cry into her as he held her. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Watching the tearful reunion, Eddie felt a sense of peace he hadn't experienced in some time. He knew she was safe with him, and that was all that mattered.

Eddie nodded and left her be. He was very pumped for the party. He couldn't wait to get drunk, find his way to Selena and have hot sex until his body gave out. "I'm pouring us a shot before we go!" Eddie called as he walked to the kitchen. He whistled to himself as he grabbed two shot glasses and poured the alcohol. He heard her enter the room and turned, glasses in hand. His whistle died down as he saw her. She grabbed the shot from his hand and quickly slammed it. He couldn't stop himself as he checked her out. She wore a normal t-shirt, and paired it with a short denim skirt. He didn't mean to think of his best friend inappropriately but the thoughts were already there as he eyed her smooth legs.

"Yuck," she said and put the glass in the sink. Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He took his shot and placed it in the sink.

~

Eddie had no self control, and it slightly worried him. He tried to keep his mind busy, but no matter what his eyes landed on her skirt. She was slightly bent over the table as she reached for the cups and Eddie couldn't stop his stare. He bit his lip and checked out her ass. Within a few seconds she turned around and walked to him with their drinks. They had been at the party for over an hour and both already felt the effects of the alcohol.

Y/N didn't mind that Eddie's eyes were locked on her. She felt hot in her skirt and it seemed Eddie thought the same. It gave her a boost of confidence and she used it to her advantage to keep his eyes on her.

But she should've known Selena would be the star. Her body slid right between them and blocked Y/N completely from his vision. She figured Eddie would be focused on Selena so she headed to the dance floor. Eddie licked his lips as he listened to whatever Selena said, his eyes locked on Y/N as she moved to the music. He wanted to be respectful and reminded himself that she was his best friend. But the way she danced and the sight of her short skirt moved with her, made it challenging.

"Eddie?" Selena asked as she snapped her fingers in his face. He looked at her and pretended he was listening the whole time. "So? Do you want to go to my car or not?" She curled a piece of his hair with her finger and leaned in.

"Raincheck?" He said. He didn't wait for her to answer and walked past her. His brain was in overdrive and he let his feet take him where they wanted. Y/N paid no attention to anyone around her as she freely danced. Eddie was a few steps away when a guy tried to slide in, before he had the chance to place his slimy hands on her delicate waist, Eddie shoved him aside. The guy stumbled drunk and walked away.

Y/N felt hands on her hips and she stiffened. She felt a spark of anxiety as she prepared herself to turn around.

"Just me," he said into her ear, talking over the loud music. She breathed in relief. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. She was shocked that he was with her and not Selena, but she wasn't going to bring it up. "Want to dance?"

She nodded and kept her eyes on him as she slowly backed up against him. He took a sharp intake of air as her ass met his crotch. Her eyes teased and seduced him as she danced against him, he gripped her hips tighter and pushed back against her. She could hear his breathing get deeper and his growing hard cock. She debated if she should stop but it turned her on too much. She turned around and placed her hands on his chest, he looked down at her and she shivered from the lust in his eyes. She was too drunk to think if it was a bad idea, but she leaned up and crashed her lips on his. She gasped when Eddie's hand immediately moved to cup her ass and kissed her back. The kiss was nowhere near sweet and slow, it was needy and intense. Eddie pulled away, grabbing her hand and quickly walked out of the house. She was nervous, was he upset?

"Get in," he said as he yanked open the back of his van. She quickly got in, the apology on her tongue as he closed the doors. Before she could speak, his mouth was on hers again.

~

Eddie placed a soft kiss on her back as he slid out of her. She allowed herself to collapse on her stomach and catch her breath. Eddie flipped down her skirt, with a cheeky slap to her ass. He slid on his jeans and got lost in a deep thought. Y/N slowly sat up and dressed herself. The silence suffocated her as she looked at him. She coughed and he looked over his shoulder at her. He gave her a soft smile.

"Something on your mind?" She asked. Even though she feared he regretted it, she couldn't ignore the conversation that needed to happen.

"You," he said. She softly smiled. "It was like the second I saw you in that skirt, I couldn't get you out of my mind."

"I think about you, too," she said and moved to sit next to him. "Just more than today."

"Yeah?" He asked. He felt his heart race as she shyly looked at the ground.

"Yeah. I fear I am the typical girl best friend that fell in love with her best friend," she laughed to herself. She wasn't sure of the outcome of this conversation but she was drunk and it gave her the courage to do it.

"When?" He asked. She still wouldn't look up at him, and if she did she would see the excitement in his eyes and the smile on his face.

"A few years," she shrugged. "And you don't have to say it back but I have feelings for you."

Eddie placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head. She chewed nervously on her bottom lip and looked at him. She felt comforted by the soft look in his eyes. "I also feel something for you, though I wasn't sure what it was until now. It's the desire to be with you."

"Yeah?" She smiled.

"Yeah," he said as he leaned in and pressed a slow loving kiss to her lips.

“Shit!” You caught him out of the corner of your eye when leaning over to put your drink down. He was standing in the entrance, his eyes observing you from afar gaging your threat levels. Your hand flew to your chest as his sudden presence scares you more than he himself. “You guys weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

You stood up then turning the tv off before going to introduce yourself. He stands up straighter, more rigid somehow than before, and takes a small almost unnoticeable step back. You notice it though part of your training was to be able to take in small things like that in. 

“Oh!” You stop in your tracks before grabbing the hem of your baggy shirt and pulling it up to just below your breasts and doing a turn to show that you don’t have any weapons hidden away in your sleep shorts. “Look no weapons, I'm clean as a whistle! I’d pull it all the way up but just between you and me,” you lean forward to whisper towards him, “I don’t have a bra on.” You drop the shirt and take two more steps forward before holding your hand out as far as you could towards him. You wanted him to be able to come to you. “I’m y/n!” He had taken a step forward just before Steve showed up. 

“What are you doing here? Tony said you’d be in your room.” He stood in front of Bucky not to block his view of you but to stay in between you two in case the Winter Soldier came out and you dropped your arm. 

“Well you’re early and I don’t much like feeling like a prisoner in my own home. Besides,” you spoke as you leaned around Steve to have a look at Bucky again, “he doesn’t seem all that dangerous right now.” You smile at him and send him a wink before going back to standing straight. 

“Get out of here kid. He’s got to get settled before meeting anyone.” 

“Fine.” You pouted before leaving to go back to your room, sneaking in a wave and another smile to the new super soldier in the building when you caught him watching you. 

What you didn’t know is that Bucky had taken a step to follow you. The Winter Soldier in him, the majority of him at the moment, had taken a look at you smiling sweetly at him and showing you weren’t a threat and decided you were his next mission. That he had to keep you safe. He would have followed you if it weren’t for Steve placing a gentle yet strong hand on his shoulder and directing him to the table where he had put heated up leftovers down for him to eat. 

You didn’t get to meet him the next day. Tony had him on lockdown in his own room to watch him, make sure he wouldn’t snap and go all killer on everyone. Which you thought was just a tad unfair, even though you got it, seeing as he purposely escaped Hydra and has been nothing but compliant since he showed up. And since he had found out you were out when they arrived, because Steve’s a goddamn snitch, Tony reamed your ass out going on about safety and blah blah blah. You had zoned out while he talked only coming back to when he turned to Steve about keeping someone on watching Bucky’s door. 

So the next time you had been able to meet Bucky it had been because you pulled a Clint and went through the vents knowing that if anyone heard it they’d assume it was him and that all the vents in the rooms aren’t up high so they’d be easy to get out of. 

Bucky was on high alert after hearing the clang of the vent covering landing on the  wood floor. He didn’t need to look for a weapon or anything; his arm was all he needed so he just posted up next to the opening ready to get the jump on whoever or whatever came out. His defenses lowered a little when he had heard the soft curse that fell from your lips. He still grabbed you by the back of your hoodie when you emerged pulling you up as if you were still a threat. 

“Woah big guy it’s just me!” You smile at him despite the yelp that escaped you when you were grabbed. Upon recognizing your sweet smile he lets you go and crosses his arms in front of him. “Snuck over so you weren’t all alone, Tony’s got Nat watching the door like a hawk right now.” He doesn’t say anything to you, doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even move much really. “Brought a bag of snacks. It's still in the vent if you wanna be the one to grab it and check to make sure it’s not a bomb or anything.” He still doesn’t move standing stock still his eyes fixated on you. “Okay then.” You crouch and reach in pulling your book bag out feeling his steely gaze the whole time suddenly unsure about this whole plan. Once it’s out and on the floor in front of you, you unzip it and hold it open for Bucky to examine the few bags of snacks inside. 

“Man, I forgot how bare the new rooms are.” You speak again after getting up and glancing around. You move deeper into the room abandoning the bag. He looks down at the what should be used as a tactical bag but is instead stuffed with snacks and what looks like a blanket at the bottom peeking out from between the bags at his feet. His eyes wander from it to you who’s rummaging through his kitchen as if there’s no boundaries and he couldn’t just kill you for crossing any if he wanted to. 

“So what do you wanna be called?” You come back into the living room area and look at him just as he finishes zipping the bag back up and standing with it in his hand. 

“What?” His voice is rough and a little hoarse probably from all the screaming from what Hydra probably did to him. Which you don’t know the extent of but just knowing Hydra it doesn’t take a genius to know they most definitely tortured the man in front of you. His vocal cords must be so damaged and you make a mental note to make him tea with honey. 

“Well I mean you’re not The Winter Soldier anymore so I won’t call you that and I’ll be caught dead before I call you Soldat like Hydra did. But also James feels so formal and I’m sure you don’t exactly feel like you’re back to being Bucky yet.” You had seen how uncomfortable he looked the few times you saw Steve use the old nickname. “So what would you like me to call you?”

“I…I don’t know.” He deflates only a little, barely noticeable but you still catch it. 

“That’s okay we don’t have to use names or anything!” You send a sweet smile his way before continuing. “But if you figure it out just let me know Honey!” He straightens up at the pet name almost as if he’s standing at attention and you take note of it before reaching down to slowly, carefully, take the bag from his metal hand. You hate that it feels like you’re treating him like a stray dog in how careful and slow your movements are. You only hope that he doesn’t take it to be you’re scared of him. He doesn’t, he understands you’re just trying to make sure he knows you’re not a threat. He appreciates it really, he has to stop his instincts from kicking in each time Steve goes to wrap an arm around his shoulder instead just flinching away from him before he can be touched knowing that if he did actually get an arm around him Steve would end up on the ground in no time. 

“Now how about a movie or something?”

When Grown Ups is over and the second one is started there’s a commotion from outside the door. 

“Must be the changing of the guards. Who do you think they roped into watching your door now?” Bucky only shrugs when you glance his way before there’s someone trying to get in before realizing the doors locked and knocking. 

“Bucky it’s me.” Steve’s voice rings out and your face scrunches up at the fact that he had tried to just barge in. “Tony said we have to check on you at each watch shift. So you gotta let me in, man.” 

Your eyes go wide and you look back at Bucky in a bit of a panic before rushing to throw the unopened snacks in your bag and get it zipped up. Bucky stands when you do and follows you in your rush to get back to the vent in the floor. Your panic is enough to make him begin to panic just a little.

“Buck? You there?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” His eyes never leave where you’re standing in between him and the wall. 

“Feel free to finish the movie if you want Honey. I've seen it plenty of times.” You whisper to him as you crouch and toss the bag into the vent. “I’ll come by again tomorrow if I have a chance, maybe make you watch an animated movie next.” He doesn’t want you to leave at all and he balls his fists up at his sides to stop himself from following you into it instead just watching as you wave before grabbing the grate and popping it back into the wall. 

“Hey man, how're you doing?” You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop but you can’t help it as you hear Bucky open the door and Steve greets him. “What’re you watching?” 

“Just clicked on something and it started going.” 

“Yeah, I’ll teach you how to use the tv. It was confusing for me at first too.” You wanna laugh at how Steve assumes Bucky just couldn’t figure out how to work the tv but instead press a hand to your mouth. “Where’d you get the blanket?” At that you want to groan and bang your head against the vent realizing you left the blanket you had packed on the couch in your hurry to leave. 

“Found it in a closet.” You can picture Bucky shrugging as he answers and begin to crawl your way back to your room missing how the two super soldiers glance at the vent and how Steve says something about Clint being up to it again. 

The next day you’re in the lab with Tony and Bruce for most of it helping them design a new arm for Bucky. Which when Tony had brought up doing you were the first person to volunteer to help, not that there was anyone else that really could. And after studying the scan Tony did of it when Bucky arrived the three of you agreed that he definitely needs a better one. Hydra hadn’t taken into consideration that they were working on a human being at all when they installed his current one, not one of you actually expected that from them. 

The arm itself is sloppily fused to actual bone and the only thing he would be able to feel from the arm is pain. The workings and wirings of it only being tapped into his pain nerve endings rather than just not connecting to any. Which you’re all positive Hydra did on purpose. You didn’t even realize connecting to any was possible until Bruce pointed it out and Tony explained it to you. You were quick though to ask if connecting to all of it was possible in the new arm. Tony said it would take more time to do than if it wasn’t but that yes it was possible and that yes, he had answered before you could ask, that would be a feature they’d include with the new one. 

Since you were busy doing that you can’t sneak away to visit Bucky until late. You almost don’t but you told him you would and didn’t want him to feel forgotten. It’s halfway to eleven when you pop open the vent. Bucky’s on alert as soon as it comes off the wall having spent most of the day glancing over and watching it. He stands arms crossed across his chest and your hand shoots out in a wave. 

“Hey Honey it’s just me!” You announce yourself before sticking your head out to smile at the super soldier standing next to the vent. “Sorry it’s so late. I was in the lab all day.” You yawn as you push yourself out and onto the floor. You lay there for a few seconds fighting the urge to just curl up and go to sleep, something you fought the whole time you crawled your way over, before getting up and facing Bucky. “It’s been a long day. How’s yours been?” 

“Fine.” He watches as you walk over to the couch before collapsing yourself into the corner of it. 

“C'mon give me more than that, what’d you do all day in here?” 

“Steve showed me the tv.” He gestures to the remote in front of you taking two steps closer to you. 

“Is that it?” He nods. “You can’t possibly just sit in your thoughts all day.” As you look at him and he looks right back at you, you realize he does. And you’d bet your life it isn’t fun considering his past and just how recent his break from Hydra is. 

“Well I’ll try to remember to bring cards or a puzzle or something next time so you have something else to do. Now c'mon I won’t bite you, yet.” You pat the couch next to you and give him a teasing smile successfully coaxing him over. “It’s a little late but do you want to watch a movie? I could put on a tv show though too. Whatever you’d like.” 

“Movie’s fine.” 

Throughout How To Train Your Dragon, which you put on because from what you’ve heard about Bucky in the 40s from Steve he seems like someone who’d enjoy dragons, you can’t stop your eyes from trailing over to his arm. You don’t want him to feel like you’re judging him for it so you keep the glances you do take to a minimum. It’s not until halfway through the movie when Bucky’s relaxed into the couch more than he was that you reach a hand out to touch it and he pulls away. Later you’ll laugh about how it parallels the scene where Hiccup tries to touch Toothless. 

“Can I?” You ask just holding your hand out for Bucky to decide if he wants to put his arm in your hands or not. He hesitates, not sure why you’d want to touch it, not sure if he trusts that you won’t use it against him the way it has been before. But one look at your curious eyes has him following the silent orders that your outstretched hands give him. 

Once the arm is in your hands you scoot closer to him causing him to stiffen up at your proximity. The winter soldier in him preparing for the pain that normally comes when a handler takes a look at his arm. He wouldn’t lash out and hurt you if it did come though, not when you were his unofficial mission. But pain never comes and when he glances back over to you from the movie you’re delicately running your fingers over the metal plates that make up his arm. He relaxes into the couch again and you can’t help the small smile that appears on your face. 

“Can you really not feel this?” 

“No. They said it was unnecessary.” 

“But you’d feel it if I shot you right here?” You draw a circle on his arm with your finger before tapping the middle of it. Bucky nods wishing with all his might he could feel your kind, soft, touch even a little bit. “That’s such bullshit!” Your voice is still soft through your exclamation and Bucky can’t help but wonder how someone could be soft and yet sound so angry at the same time. And he can’t help the almost suffocating feeling in his chest that your anger is for him rather than at him. Something he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced before, even with memories coming back to him more and more as the days go by.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs, wanting to escape that feeling.

“It’s not.” You look up at him, absoluteness in your voice and written all over your face. It causes his breath to catch and he turns back to the movie playing letting you continue to examine the metal arm he hates so much.

You eventually doze off, head resting on his shoulder. Bucky doesn’t notice until the movie’s over though having been too pulled into it just the way you had hoped. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t think you meant to fall asleep and let your guard down that much around him in the first place though. You had, the moment you were done looking at his arm you had wrapped your arm around his before resting your head down on it and letting the sleep that had been biting at your heels since you left the lab catch up with you. 

Bucky’s slow in his movements, using his flesh hand to block your hair from getting caught in the metal plates of his arm, something he had done a lot after his own grew out and he’d try to use the metal hand to push it out of his face, before adjusting his arm to face the couch instead of your body your head falling to his chest then. He taps your face a few times to try to wake you before moving to shaking your shoulder. The only result he gets is you squirming in your sleep and digging your face farther into his chest. He doesn’t want to resort to the violence that had been used on him to wake him up, not on you at least but maybe on Steve or any of the others, so he picks you up and carries to to the untouched bed in his room watching as you bury into the covers as he puts them on you. 

You don’t show any signs of waking up even the slightest the whole time causing the soldier in him to worry. If you don’t wake up to being nudged or carried then would you wake up if there was an intruder. The thought only brings the winter soldier in him further to the forefront as he sits and watches the door.

You cringe at the sound of your alarm when it goes off in the morning. You feel so groggy and out of it as you try to find your phone confused when it’s not plugged in next to your pillow the way it normally is. You’re confused when you find it in your pocket until you open your eyes and realize you’re not in your room. You’re still disoriented as you sit up but remember that you fell asleep on Bucky’s couch at least. 

“Honey?” Your voice is a little raspy as sleep clogs your vocal chords and Bucky only turns his head slightly so he can still keep an eye on the open bedroom door. “Did you carry me to bed?”

“Couldn’t wake you up.”

“Oh that hasn’t happened in a while.” You’re normally a light sleeper having woken up to the soft thump of your cat jumping off of your own bed multiple times before. “You must make me feel safe.” And he does even with how nervous everyone seems to be about him falling back into being the winter soldier. Bucky’s heart does somersaults as you speak the words, pride swelling in his chest that he’s successful in that part of his mission. You swing your legs over the side and stretch before checking the time on your phone, four in the morning.

“Did you sleep?” Bucky shakes his head and you frown while standing. “Well I have to get to the lab, we’re working on something big and exciting. You should try to get some sleep alright?” You head into the bathroom knowing there’d be a couple spare toothbrushes in the mirror like there always is in the empty rooms of the tower. When you come out he’s still in the same spot. “You didn’t change into pjs or anything? C’mon get up.” 

You don’t even think about it first in your sleep disoriented state before grabbing at his arm and pulling to get him to stand. The Bucky part of him comes back and he plays along faking a stumble to make it seem more like you had successfully pulled him up rather than him getting up on his own. Light laughter falls from your lips and a small smile appears on his face at the sound. 

“Here. At least change your shirt, you’ve been in the same clothes for at least two days now.” You turn from where you had been rummaging in the dresser and shove a clean shirt in his hands. Bucky just places it on the bed before taking his old one off without thinking. He never had to in the recent past, if he was granted new clothes to change into at the Hydra facility there’d always be someone there watching. It’s not until your breathing hitches and he sees your eyes lock onto the shoulder the arm is attached to that he becomes self conscious about the scarring there. He’s quick to put the new one on hating the look in your eyes. 

“Okay you get some sleep, take a shower when you wake up. I won’t be able to stop by later but I’ll probably come by tomorrow at some point okay Honey?” Bucky nods and holds himself back from following you as you leave the bedroom and back into the vent to get to your room to change before going to the lab.

You end up beating Tony and Bruce to the lab, not by much but they’re both shocked when they show up at six to find you looking at the projected blueprints you’d all been working on the day before. The second thought you’d had after seeing the scars at the seam of metal and flesh had been to tweak the plans so it could be detachable. The first one being ‘oh god I can’t believe he’s gone through so much pain’ .

“What’re you doing here already, worker bee?” Tony asks the nickname he gave you after that first long night in the lab with them rolling off his tongue and leading into a yawn.

“Woke up with an idea for the arm.” You zoom into where the arm is set to connect to the shoulder before swiping it away to show how you worked out it could be done. “Thought we could make it so his arm could be removed.” You take a sip of your energy drink as the two men take their spots on either side of you.

“What made you think of this?” It’s Bruce this time who speaks hand on chin in thought. “It could work though.”

“I don’t know. Had a dream about it and thought maybe it would be easier to clean or maybe to sleep.” You couldn’t exactly tell them that you thought maybe if he could remove it he wouldn’t have the urge to try to claw it out the way the scars hint to.

“You’ve been spending too much time in the lab with us if you’re dreaming about things kid. But it definitely could work, we’d just have to-” Tony trails off as he brings the hologram closer to him from where Bruce was studying it with a swipe of his hand and begins to toy with the way it could connect in a way that it could still work with the nerve endings.

You’re only in the lab for a couple of hours. You help the two of them fine tune the design ideas bouncing between the three of you. And then Tony’s ushering you out of the lab so he can get to work on actually making it seeing as that’s his expertise. You had argued that you could still help but you’re prone to dropping the smaller parts he needs when he builds anything and it ends with the two of you crawling around on the ground to find them, so it’d be quicker if you didn’t.

As tiring as it can be working throughout the days with them you do find it rather peaceful and you’re always happy to work through lunch the three of you eating takeout as you continue to work. Tony and Bruce were like the, much, older brothers you never had with how close the three of you are. Not that you aren’t close with the other Avengers, you spend a lot of time with all of them since you share living spaces with them, just some you’re closer to than others.

“So how’s watching Bucky’s door? As boring as it sounds?” You ask Natasha later in the gym as you hold the punching bag steady for her.

“The guy doesn’t even make a peep when I’m stuck sitting there. It’s a waste of my time and Stark should just have Steve on watch duty. It’s his childhood friend not mine.” You can hear the eye roll in her voice and can tell how annoyed she is with it.

“I don’t get why Tony has anyone sitting there if he’s not doing anything.” She stops punching and puts her hands on her hips while she peers around the bag to look at you with an exasperated look on her face.

“You’re joking. You’re part of the reason we have to, miss I’m going to be out of my room when he gets here and try to approach a very extremely recent ex Hydra assassin.” You cringe at her words knowing they’re true, the watch shifts are more for keeping you out than keeping him in. Not that it’s stopping you. “Now we actually have to wrap this up because I’m due to play watch dog in an hour so Steve can get his training in.”

After the gym with Nat you head to your room to shower and get ready for a comfortable night in with a book and your cat curled up on your lap. You decide that before you sit down though to check on Tony’s progress knowing almost without a doubt that he’s still gonna be in the lab. You stop by the kitchen to get him some food, burgers Clint was still working on making for dinner, knowing that he wouldn’t have eaten yet. You made one for yourself and one for him avoiding Clint's hands as they try to shoo you away playfully claiming you can’t take food before it’s all ready and head down to the lab again.

“Tony Bologna!” Your sing song voice greets the man before he can see you. “Brought you some food Clint was making your favorite.” You set the plates down at one of the clear work benches. “How’s the arm coming along?”

“I just can’t keep you out of this lab, can I worker bee?” He finishes up something real quick before spinning the stool around to face you. “It’s taking longer than I originally thought it would but it should still be ready in probably two days or so, depending on how much you come annoy me.” He playfully bumps his shoulder into yours after wheeling over to sit next to you.

“So am I just banned from the lab until it’s done?” You laugh knowing he doesn’t mean any harm by it.

“Wish I could tell you yes but you’ll find your way down here regardless. Just try to stay away, yeah? Wanna get this arm done with as soon as I can so Nat can stop complaining about guard duty.”

“You letting him out and about after it’s finished?” You speak around a bite of food.

“Yeah, gets out for good behavior.” The two of you eat in comfortable silence then with you trying to hide your excited smile.

Tony does end up finishing the arm in a couple days. Steve brings Bucky to the med bay as Tony and Bruce get it ready for the surgery it’ll take to remove the old one and install the new one. You get to be the first face he sees when he enters immediately taking a step towards you only stopping from continuing on when there’s a subtle shake of your head telling him not to. You give him a polite smile like you haven’t been spending most of your free time with him.

“What’s going on?” He asks as he notices the scrubs you and the two older men are in and the doctor in the corner of the room.

“Hi Bucky!” You cringe inwardly as you use the name and Bucky frowns at your use of it. “I can explain everything to you if you wanna come have a seat over here.” You direct him to a seat near the surgical table, hating that you can sense his panic. His eyes go wide like a stray dog feeling threatened as he gets a glimpse of the table and the tools next to it. “Steve, you can go now.”

“Oh uh, I’m actually supposed to stay.” He looks at Tony before looking back at you and you stop the eye roll that wants to happen.

“Can you go get me some water then? I’m a little parched.” You hope he doesn’t recognize your water bottle in the room just wanting him gone so you can whisper encouraging things to Bucky without anyone hearing. He nods after getting a nod in approval from Tony and heads out while you take a seat next to Bucky.

“It’s gonna be okay Honey.” You whisper wrapping your pinky around his flesh one and the man next to you relaxes a bit. “So you’re here today so we can remove that arm of yours and replace it with dun da da da one of our own design!” You smile as you say it, motioning to the black and gold one on the table next to you. You glance to make sure no one else in the room is looking before you take his hand to pull him up and towards the table so he can get a better look at it.

“This here is obviously the arm itself, but this piece is what’s permanently going to be in your shoulder so you can remove the arm as you please.” You point to each piece you talk about your eyes glowing with excitement to finally be telling him about it. His eyes go wide and his head snaps over to look at you with the news, his hand going to touch his shoulder through his shirt. He knows that’s a feature you added because of the scars there, from when he used to try to claw the damn thing out when it would get too uncomfortable after a long mission of using it.

“We’re going to have to put you under so we can actually do the surgery if that’s okay Honey?” The pet name is whispered so everyone else can’t hear it and Bucky nods unsure because he’s never been put under for anything before. He’d either just have to suffer through it or he’d pass out from the pain of it all.

“Wonderful! Now we’ll need you to take your shirt off and hop right on up on this table to lay down. Oh thanks Stevie.” You thank the man who hands you a cup of water drinking it to keep up the act of needing it while Bucky follows your order like the good soldier he is. But once he’s down and Bruce starts putting the restraints around him he gets that wild look in his eyes again like he’s about to do anything he can to get away. And while this causes Steve’s guard to come up, him taking a step closer ready to subdue his friend if need be, you step over under the guise of helping Bruce when in actuality you’re just there to rub your hand up and down his arm in a soothing way. 

“Bucky, I’m Doctor Cho. I'll be assisting these three so nothing goes wrong.” The doctor in the room steps up to him with a friendly smile on her face as she looks down at him. “Like y/n said we’ll be knocking you out so it’s going to be over before you even know it. After the surgery it’s likely you’ll be a little sore but with how quickly you super soldiers heal there shouldn’t be any big pain when you wake up from the anaesthesia.”

“And then you’re free from your room prison!” You cheer from the other side of him and Tony playfully slaps you on the back of the head. Bucky’s hands clench into fists at him hitting you but he doesn’t try to lunge or anything, your laughter at Tony’s action stopping it before it can begin. “What? It’s true, you said you’d be letting him out.”

“You ready?” Bruce asks the man strapped down in front of him not enjoying the view of it any more than Bucky’s enjoying it. 

“It’s not like he has a choice.” Tony says as he brings the mask over Bucky’s face. The last thing he takes in is the feel of your thumb rubbing small hidden circles on his arm in a comforting way. 

When Bucky wakes up and tries to sit up only to find he’s strapped down still he panics not wanting to be back in Hydra’s lab. He calms though when he hears your laughter, the sound reminding him he’s not with Hydra and won’t be again. His eyes open and he scans the room searching for you. And like you can feel his searching eyes you turn your head just as he finds you smiling at him. 

“Hey there Soldier, you made it out alive!” There’s a laughter to your voice that makes him not mind being called soldier and as Bruce’s attention turns to him you mouth a ‘hi honey’ to him with a wave. Tony’s not in the room he had a date with Pepper to get to and you had to convince him to agree to you staying for when Bucky woke up. He was nervous being under and waking up strapped to a table would snap him back into being the winter soldier but you insisted you would be fine even if that happened because of Steve and Bruce both being in the room.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks, coming closer to the bed with you and Steve following close behind. 

“Fine.” Bucky grunts out and with the reassurance that he’s not feeling like a killing machine Bruce and Steve move to undo his restraints with you standing close by so you can do your job to ask him questions and tell him about his new arm.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” You ask him as they finish with Bruce moving to talk to Helen in the corner of the med bay and Steve hovers close to the two of you.

“Sore.” Bucky sits up and his flesh hand goes to his shoulder as if to massage it.

“With your healing that shouldn’t last too much longer, maybe the rest of the day but you should be back to a new normal by tomorrow. Wanna know all the new fun features of this new arm?” Bucky nods with a small smile starting to play on his lips, something Steve notices and smiles himself excited that his friend is showing through the cracks more. 

“First things first say adios to feeling any major pain from your arm, at most there should just be a sting.” It had been easy to convince Bruce that Bucky had been in enough pain from Hydra and that when connecting to the nerve endings you could all leave the pain ones out of the equation. Tony took a little bit more convincing but with it being two against one he caved. 

“You’ll also be able to feel whether something's hot or cold, though not enough that it would feel like something’s burning you. Like if you stick your hand in a fire you’ll be able to feel and tell it’s warm but it’s not going to burn where you have to yank your hand out quickly.” You look at the clipboard in front of you that’s full of all the notes on the arm as you speak but look up at him at your last words. “Though don’t make a habit of that we aren’t positive how prolonged heat will affect all the little things inside your arm.”

“Like I told you before it’s removable, I’ll show you how to do that in a minute but it’s time for my favorite detail.” You hand the clipboard over to Steve figuring he could at least be helpful if he’s gonna stand guard dog. “Please stretch your arm out towards me, palm up.” Bucky follows your instructions and you speak as you wrap a hand around his wrist and start tracing different shapes on his palm. “With the sensors in and under the metal and how we have it connected to nerve endings you’ll be able to feel things as they touch your arm. While you won’t be able to feel textures of anything and you’d still feel, say, a bullet hit it, you’ll now be able to feel it if I do this.” You draw a circle on his arm with your finger before tapping the middle of it just like you did the other night.

Bucky’s eyes snap to yours rather than watch your fingers in awe. With your similar words and action from the night you fell asleep on his hated arm it’s clear to him that you were the brain behind that decision. He wills away the tears that want to brim and fall from his eyes at someone thinking and caring enough about him to do something like adding that to a new arm, something he hasn’t had happen to him in close to a century where he’s known mostly pain and torture. Maybe that’s the reason he lunges at you to bring you into a hug without thinking of how that might come off as.

You could see the hug coming a mile away, it was written all over his face that that’s what he wanted to do. You didn’t have to be an expert on who he was to be able to see it, though you’d think it would be with how quickly Steve leaves the clipboard to clatter to the ground and make it so the two of you are separated. His sudden rushed movement pushes you back into one of the utility tables causing the tools on it to rattle around but it also awakens Bucky’s Winter Soldier fight or flight response. It’s both of those things that cause him to head butt his friend.

“Steve what the hell!” You yell out as Bucky’s head connects with his nose. The commotion should have drawn eyes to the three of you but Bruce and Helen had stepped out of the lab briefly before all of this. 

“He was lunginging at you.” As Steve’s hand goes up to cup his nose in shock that his best friend attacked him for no reason Bucky dives past him to stand in front of you as if to protect you from any danger.

“He was just gonna hug me! Weren’t you honey?” The pet name goes over Steve’s head in the heat of the moment. Bucky gives a stiff nod, the Winter Soldier in him still braced for a fight with the man in front of him if he tries to harm you again. He doesn’t start to relax until you take his new metal hand in yours and rub circles into it. The new sensation of it bringing him back. “Anyone with a brain could’ve seen that written on his face. You all have to stop walking on eggshells all the time when it comes to him or he’ll never actually make any progress.” Steve opens his mouth to respond but you’ve stopped paying attention to him and have instead grabbed Bucky’s shirt from the table you were pushed into and started pulling him out of the lab. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to remove your arm and then you can start getting used to it.”

“How excited are you that when we get back you don’t have to watch Bucky’s door?” You ask Nat as the two of you take seats in the quinjet to finally get home after the week long recon mission the two of you and a couple other agents were sent on. You had gotten word of it right after leaving Bucky’s room from showing him how to remove and reattach his arm and left the next morning. So you’re eager to get back and see how he’s acclimating to the new arm and his new freedom to roam about the tower.

“You have no idea.” She groans before answering. “I finally get my free time back. I’ve had to postpone the same date three times now.”

“Date? You mean you don’t have something going on with Steve?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugs and tries to look nonchalant but you see right through her.

“Yeah sure you don’t.”

“What about you miss lots of questions about Bucky Barnes and crawling through the vents to get into his room?”

“What? I never did that, you know Clint's always messing around in the vents.”

“Yeah and I can tell when it’s him or when it’s you. It sounds different.”

“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.” You hold your pinky out in a silent promise and she hesitates before looping her own with it.

“Deal.”

Unsurprisingly when you both leave the quinjet Nat goes straight to talk to Steve who’s standing waiting in the hangar. You leave them to it, sending him a wave as you walk past wanting to beeline for your room for a shower and quality time with your cat who you always miss the most when you’re stuck on long missions like that. You end up making a pit stop in the shared kitchen to fill your water bottle up with water from the fridge there since you’re almost positive Tony purposely made it so it had the coldest water in the tower so everyone would be forced to cohabitate. You pause momentarily in the doorway when you spot Bucky sitting at the island.

“Hey Honey!” You beam, happy to see him. He turns his head to look at you shocked to see you standing in front of him. A small smile forms on his face, unable to stop from feeling as close to giddy as he has in a long time at how genuinely happy you look. 

“Hi.” He pauses as you cross the kitchen to fill your bottle. “How was your mission?”

“So boring.” You roll your eyes as you wait for your bottle to fill. “We spent most of our time in a room watching cameras and listening to mics. I bet you were glad to have me out of your space for a week though.” 

He wasn’t, he had missed your presence and how you never made him feel like he had to try to be anyone other than who he was now. Between Steve calling him Bucky and wanting him to be the same guy he knew in the forties and Tony still calling him the Winter Soldier always waiting for the brainwashing to kick back in he thought he was going to go crazy. All he wanted to do was lock himself in his room and not come out until you were back and calling him Honey and not wanting or expecting him to be anyone other than the guy he was now, a guy trying to figure out who exactly he is after being stuck under Hydra’s control for the last however long and trying to cope with that.

“I was gonna shower and just collapse on my bed for a while.” You continue not waiting for a response from him which Bucky appreciates. “Wanna come with? You can meet my cat and I could collapse on the couch instead. We could watch a movie.” You start to walk away as you speak and Bucky’s quick to follow. Of course he was, the Winter Soldier in him who saw you as his mission was going mad at not being with you on your mission because what if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to prevent it, to protect you.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” You say as you open the door to your room ushering Bucky in quickly so your cat doesn’t try to escape again. He takes in the surroundings; it's warm and soft and he immediately thinks how much it suits you. You head farther in and while Bucky still stands near the entrance you approach him a white cat in your arms. “Honey, this is Alpine. I think the two of you could be the best of buds.” You hand her over to him and he’s not sure how exactly to act with a cat in his arms but just lets it happen. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower, I’ll be right back out. Make yourself at home.”

While you shower Bucky hesitates before moving to sit on your couch which is different, softer and more comfortable, than his own. There’s blankets folded and draped over the arms and the back of it with a heart pillow in one corner and a star pillow in the other. He sits in the corner with the heart because it’s further into the room and Alpine meows looking at him with her big blue eyes. She starts purring almost immediately as he scratches behind her ears and under her chin. You’re positively beaming when you come out of your room and find them like that.

“I just knew you’d be a cat person.” Instead of sitting in the other corner of the couch like he expected you to, you sit right next to Bucky folding your legs under you and leaning your shoulder into his own.

“I like animals.” That’s something about him that never changed even under Hydra's brainwashing. He would be on missions as The Winter Soldier sleeping in alleys, because if they didn’t have to they wouldn’t supply him a safe house to stay in, and feeding the strays letting them curl up next to him to sleep in a safe space for the night.

“Hmm, I think I know just the movie to put on then.” You fall asleep probably halfway through Hotel for Dogs. You hadn’t realized how tired you were from the mission until you were fighting to keep your eyes open. And when Bucky had realized you had fallen asleep he sinks more comfortably into the couch and relaxes, metal arm on the back of the couch as around you as he’ll let it be for now and a hand stroking the loving cat still in his lap. And when he falls asleep after the movie ends it’s the first time he doesn’t wake from a nightmare.

Bucky Taglist: @the-chocoholic-writer @vanillamaa @sailormajinmoon @enlyume @collywobbl @valhalla-kristin @nojamsonmytoast @esoltis280 @aactuaaltraash @cali-888 @moonNooon @Minami97 @winchestert101

Marvel Taglist: @lieswithoutfairytales @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @neenieweenie @fluffy-bnny @bunnyweasley23 @chaoticevilbakugo @trikigirl271 @chxosunbound @mazerunnerrose @goldylions @literally-a-ferret @angelgirl45367 @supraveng

So here you were, standing in the kitchen with a red solo cup filled with the sickly sweet piked punch some guy had called ‘The Good Stuff’. It was red and warm and had a lot of booze in it that you were already feeling a little loose and buzzed. 

After downing at least one cup full, you decided to do a walk around the party. The place smelled like weed, sweat and the faintest hint of whatever the hell was in your solo cup. All the lights were off besides the colorful string lights and lava lamps that littered the place. You tried to see if you noticed anybody that was worth hanging out with or talking to and made sure to do a once over on your friends, making sure they were alright. 

The living room that was turned into a makeshift dance floor was filled with people dancing, taking and making out. You grimaced when you had been bumped into a couple swapping spit, who weren’t even fazed by your accidental shove as they fell onto the couch next to you. 

You had finally made your way into a corner of the living room, free from horny couples grinding against each other and guys trying to get you to dance with them. You were content with just gulping down your booze and people watching—that was until your eyes landed on the dark haired boy you had spent weeks avoiding. 

Eddie Munson.

And he had been evidently already staring right at you. 

You felt your heart skip a beat and your stomach flutter all at the same time when you locked eyes with him. He was doing the same thing you were, standing in a corner of the room all by his lonesome, probably waiting for someone eager for a quick high. You knew Eddie too well, knowing that parties like these were his best way for easy cash, you hated that you remembered that. 

You can feel his eyes rake down your body as you do the same to him. He’s wearing a dark color tee that looks black with the red and blue lights over the room. His arms covered in his usual leather jacket as well as his standard black ripped jeans with a chain attached to his side. You fucking love that chain, you remember him fucking you with that chain wrapped around your neck and your wrists on multiple occasions.

 Despite your hatred, Eddie Munson is fucking hot and it doesn’t help with how confident he is about it. 

Eddie Munson is so sure of himself in who he is and what he wants—albeit, he’s a piece of shit but he knows that he’s be a piece of shit. He knows that he’s an asshole, and that unfortunately is what makes him hotter.

When you finally get down to his black lace up boots you quickly bring your eyes back to a smirking Eddie. He knows you were checking him out and you know he fucking enjoyed it. Your assumption is answered when he raises his eyebrows up at you and his smirk grows into a sly smile. You know that look, you’ve given into that look, you’ve even given him a look similar to that look. You feel a rush of heat down your body and you try your best to put it on the red juice that you can still taste on your lips but you knew better.

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you start to take a step towards him. But, as if some angel up in heaven was trying to stop you, a group of guys come up to Eddie with money in their hands and excitement in their eyes in need of drugs. 

Thank God. You thought to yourself as you took a sip of your solo cup, but when your lips get nothing but a single drop, you turn and head back into the kitchen for another fill of The Good Stuff.

The kitchen was empty thankfully, you weren’t in the mood for being in the middle of awkward small talk with people you really never spoke to in between classes. Using the ladle, you pour a decent amount of  punch in your cup to forget how Eddie’s stare alone made you want to go back to him. With a scoff and a shake of your head, you down a gulp. You couldn’t believe you almost gave into him. 

From just a look, a fucking look.

Fuck, your feet hurt from these boots. You don’t know how  Heather  convinced you into wearing them. And okay sure, they made your legs look hot, but after a while your feet felt like it was on fire. You could go back into the living room and try to find a couch to sit on, hoping the stupid couple you pushed had found a room for their drunken rendezvous, but you didn’t trust yourself enough to sit there and watch Eddie without doing something you’ll great later. The more space between you two, the better. With that decision made, you jump up onto the kitchen counter and start taking off a boot. 

A deep sigh of relief leaves your lips when your foot is free, head leaning back against the wooden kitchen cabinet, the cool metal of the door handle hits the nape of your neck–-a bright contrast from the heat radiating off you from how warm the place is. Some many people all crushed together at the bottom floor of two story home doesn’t help the AC get any colder. 

You enjoy the small slice of silence,  eyes closed as you wiggle your sock covered foot. Ready to take off the other one, you put the shoeless foot to hang off the kitchen counter and bring your boot covered foot on top of the counter. When you open your eyes though, your hand freezes at the start of pulling down the zipper, because Eddie Munson just walked into the kitchen and there’s nowhere else for you to run to without getting into his personal space. 

He has his hands in his pockets as he walks slowly toward you. Like the evil serpant, the devil on your shoulder, the Grim fucking Reaper—he smirks, stopping a few feet away from you. Standing not too close but not too far away from so you can hear his voice over the loud music outside the kitchen.

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.”

You shrug your shoulders, “Took a lot of persuading.”

He hums in understanding, a sly smile growing on his lips as he looks down at you. “I’m surprised–it’s not really your scene.” Not anymore. 

You don’t respond back and he knows why. You can see it in his eyes that he’s debating about something before he looks back to the entrance of the kitchen. The doorway is the only option to come in or out and it looks like a portal to another world–the darkness of the hallway, the thump thump thump of the speakers,  the strobe lights flickering  into the fluorescent kitchen. 

“I saw you walking towards me earlier, before I had to do some business. What was that about?” He questions slyly with his eyebrows raised, as if he doesn’t already know what it was about. 

“Heather needed some weed,” you lie, “She’s too busy sucking face somewhere so I thought I’d do her a favor and get it just in case she forgot.”

Eddie’s quiet for a bit, searching your eyes for the truth, because he knows that what you said was a lie. He was always so good at reading you, knew you like the back of his ring covered hand. Eddie takes a step closer to you, his black jeans brushing the side of your legs, you can smell him with how close he is. He smells just like you remember— irish spring and weed with a hint of motor grease. 

“We both know Heather wouldn't want me talking to you right now.” 

You go silent as he watches you. He’s right, you know he’s right, but you have yet to make a move of hopping off the counter and leaving his presence. Eddie Munson is intoxicating, he’s like the drugs he sells and your the addict that just can’t stop taking them, but you won’t admit that to him—not yet at least. 

“I’m a big girl.” It comes out sounding a little stupid and a bit cringey but it’s all you can say to him because you are. You’re an adult who can make her own decisions. But is Eddie a good decision?

 Absolutely not. 

“You know,” Eddie dips his head and leans into your personal space. You can feel the heat radiating off of him and it makes you feel like your on  fire the second you feel his hands on top of your thighs. “If you wanted more–wanted me, you could’ve just asked.” 

—

The trip upstairs is a blur. You feel dizzy with the scent of Eddie and the heat of his hands. He kisses you like you’ll push him away at any given second and you both know that you probably fucking should. 

Fumbling for the door handle, his mouth never breaks from yours as you slam the door shut. Your bodies slam against the bedroom door, the pain that erupts from the back of your head burns sickly sweet. A moan leaves your lips as Eddie’s hand tighten on your hip and cheek. 

“That fucking hurt.” You gasp out between kisses. 

“You fucking like it.” 

And you do, oh god you do. You like the harsh sting that floods your body then fizzles out all warm and sweet. Eddie moves his lips from yours and trails the sloppily down your cheek to the spot on your neck he found the first night he fucked you. The grip in your hair is tight as he bites and tongues at your jugular, wincing at the pain his teeth brings you grip his leather jacket hard, fingernails tugging down on the fabric as a physical plea for Eddie to take it off. 

You feel his teeth latch off of you as he pulls away, yanking the leather like it burns him as he watches you with hooded eyes. His lips grow into that stupid cheshire grin you hate as you hands fumble for the spiked belt he wore, eager and needy for him. “Knew you were gonna come crawling back to me. Can’t get enough, you never could.”

“Fuck you.” you whisper out against his lips, his words anger you, but not enough for you to stop pulling at the metal in front of his jeans. “Asshole.”

Eddie hums at the word, his hand gliding back to your neck, squeezing just enough for your eyes to roll back and your hands to falter. You blink back to see him still smiling at you, his eyebrows raised as if he’s asking you to say something else. 

“Of course you still got a mouth on you. I bet all the other guys you fucked couldn’t handle it, hm? You’re too much of a fucking brat for anyone else to satisfy.”The minute the grip of his fingers loosen against the side of your throat, the anger that burns through you makes you push Eddie away and slap him right across the face.

There’s a thick pause, a quietness that grows scary and hot as you watch his adam’s apple shift as he swallows. Eddie slowly turns his head back to look at you– the weight of your palm had it turned the other way– breath heavy in anticipation, your lips grow into your own sly smirk as you lean back against the door. 

“Oops,” you shrug, eyes glistening with want.

Eddie scoffs out a humourless laugh, tonguing the inside of his cheek. He nods his head once, twice–looking up to the ceiling briefly before flicking them back at you. 

The look in his eyes is all sinful and mean and the giggle that leaves your throat doesn’t surprise you as he manhandles you to the bed. Your body bounces against the mattress, back laying on the cool sheets of whoever’s fucking room this was. It does nothing to cool your hot skin, your hands spread out about your head, boot covered feet dangling off the bed as you watch Eddie walk over to you. Soon enough you feel the dip of the bed as he crawls over to you,  hovering over your frame. The heat of his skin, his breath, his hands do nothing but fuel the fire that grows deep in your belly. 

You squirm in anticipation, lifting your head up to try and kiss him, but his hand caress the side of your neck for the second time that night, pushing you back down into the mattress. This time, he squeezes harder than before, and the tightness against your throat fills you with pleasure as your vision blurs, slowly blinking to capture his face. 

“Did I tell you move?” Eddie questions, his voice darker than before more hearty and thick filled with desire and anger. You tried to shake your head but his grip tightens. The pressure that engulfs you makes you smile.

“Use your fucking words.” He demands.

“No.” The word comes out tightly, like a whisper under the full moon as you feel the blood rush to your head. 

A sharp and sweet pain erupts on your cheek, your head to turned to the side at the weight of it. Blood rushes to your the skin where Eddie’s slapped you. The pain tingling like pins and needles but sends a rush of excitement and pleasure through your entire body. 

“Try again.” You love how deeper his voice gets when he’s like this. It’s  something about the tone in his voice, the way he carries himself and that stern demanding look in his eye that makes you want to do anything Eddie says. 

The second he releases his grip off you throat, the words leave you like a prayer, “Yes sir.”

With Eddie’s eyes never leaving yours, he pushes himself off the bed. His black ripped jeans are barely touching the sheets, and you could touch him with the toe of your boot if you wanted but you stay still on the bed as Eddie looks at you with hooded eyes. He doesn’t say anything to you at first, and it’s as if he’s frozen in time just for you to admire, to gawk at, to squeeze your thighs together in eager anticipation, waiting for his next move. The moon cascades on him through the cracked blinds, he looks sinfully ethereal. His tattoos darkend and his hair low, giving his face almost a shadow look, decked in silver that glistens under the moon light.

“Turn around and get on your knees.”

You both know that’s not a request and yet you still hesitate. There’s a gnawing need to be a little mischievous, a little stubborn, a little bratty. You can’t help it. So you don’t move, instead, you hands start to slowly glide up your body, your shirt lifting in the process. The red lacy bra that you put on just for the hell of it looks maroon in the darkness of the moonlight, yet you can still see Eddie’s eyes darken as he watches you cup your tits all nice and pretty for him. 

You almost make him change his mind about what he’s about to do to you–almost. 

Eddie turns you around without much effort, a gasp turned moaned leaves your lips as he molds your body into the position he wants. Your knees and elbows against the mattress, your head  pressed down, cheek smushed into the bedding. You can still feel his warm hand against the dip of your back. “Fuckin’ look at you sweetheart, a sight for sore eyes.” He groans out, you hum at the praise. You feel both of his hands now, sliding down your back past the slither of skin exposed from your position to the black skirt you were wearing for the party. You back arches as he grips your ass, Eddie moans at the sight of it. “Thats it baby, arch that back. Wanna see how pretty you look before I fuck you.” 

You whine at his words, hips wiggling to press against him. Your ass erupts into a stinging pain when Eddie releases a harsh palm to it. You shriek at the smack and let out a pleasure filled cry. 

“Please,” you beg, you feel a dip into the mattress and you’re greeted with the sight of Eddies face in front of you. “I didn’t tell you to fucking move sweetheart.” His words so condescendingly sweet, your lips pout as your eyes begin to water. Eddie mimics the movement of your mouth, humming mockingly at the sound of your coos. “Does my little brat wanna get fucked? Is that it?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimper out, Eddie’s palm slides from your back to your cheek, wiping the tear that managed to fall. You can taste the saltiness of it, as Eddie’s thumb wipes the corner of your mouth. Eager and pent up, you stick your tongue out in a physical request, eyes never leave his as you plead silently. “Oh, you’re so eager for it, huh?” His thumb barely brushes against your bottom lip, no where near your tongue where you want. Your eyes well up with more tears as you mewl. 

“You disobeyed me, I told you not to move and you did.” He tells you softly, brushing your cheek with the upmost tender you ever received from someone who has you pinned down to the mattress. “Then, I told you to turn around for me and you didn’t sweetheart. How can you learn your lesson if I don’t punish you?”

You press your face into the mattress, you’re so fucking horny and ready for him that it’s painful. You don’t even need to look down at yourself or for Eddie to tell you if you’re soaking the matching red panties you wore  because you can feel it dripping down your thighs. 

“I’m sorry.” you whisper out.

“What?” Eddie pulls at your hair tightly, turning your face back toward his so you can look at him properly. “My girl can’t be shy now, what did you say?” 

“I’m sorry sir.”

Eddie hums, releasing the grip he had on your hair, brushing it away from your face as he caresses  your cheek. He looks at you with such adoration and something else you do not want to think about in this fucking moment. All you want to think about right now, is how hard he’s about to fuck you. 

“You remember our word sweetheart?” Eddie asks you, eyebrows raised as he waits for you to say it back to him. The safeword leaves your lips and he hums with  praise, his thumb slipping past them just enough for you to almost wrap your mouth around and suck before pulling away. 

You stay still in the position he put you in, you can hear the sound of his belt clinking open, and the metal sound of his zipper. You feel his hands on your ass again, pushing up your skirt to rip your underwear to the side, you gasp at the tightness of the fabric as Eddie shushes you. He plays with you for a moment, his thumb grazing from your hole to your aching clit which makes you jolt. The movement earns a slap on your right cheek from Eddie. 

You jolt again at the feeling of his spit against you as it drips down to your entrance. Eddie smears it with his hand and lets out a groan at the sight of you. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking soaked. I don’t even need the spit.” He plays with your clit only for a few seconds humming out a laugh at your moans and the feeling of you pressing into his hand–desperately wanting more. 

And finally when you writhing with need and about to burst, dripping between the gaps of Eddie’s fingers onto the sheets, you feel the length of hims against your entrance sliding in with one easy push from how wet you are. You both moan at the feeling, your body sagging with relief, cheek pressing itself farther into the mattress and head limp. He presses a hand to you back grasping at the back of your shirt, tightening his hand into a fist around the fabric. He kisses the dip in your back right before he starts to pound into you. 

Its harsh and it’s fast and it’s everything you fucking needed.You don’t care about how loud you are and neither does Eddie. In fact, he slows down his pace and slaps your ass hard if you try to muffle them. Tears are sliding down your face from how good he fucks you, you’re pretty sure your makeup’s smudged and ruined but that does give you enough reason fro him to stop. 

You can never get over how hot this is, how hot Eddie is when you have sex. How filthy and overall fucking insatiable you both are. The way neither of you have taken any item of clothing off, aside from Eddie’s jacket. Just pulling and prodding away fabric to get to the end goal of fucking eachother silly. How Eddie can get words and actions out of you with his merely his voice and a stern hand. How in this moment,your brain turns to mush and everything outside of this room means nothing to you. 

Eddie’s grip on your shirt is so tight that it slightly chokes you at the collar, you clench around him at the added pleasure. “Yeah? You like that baby?” you can hear the smugness in his voice but there is nothing left in you to be the little stubborn brat you can’t help to be. Your mind is numb with nothing but the thought of Eddie and how could he feels. You mumble out incoherent words, eyes rolling back to your skull and lips foaming with spit, clenching down again at the sound of his voice. 

“Oh fuck- yeah you do, my baby loves getting fucked like the dirty slut she is. No one else can fuck her like I can, isn’t that right?” You mewl at his words, pushing your hips deeper into his thrusts, the orgasm thats been growing faster with each push of Eddie’s hips slowly dies out like a candle when he stops moving. You turn your head to look at him, eyes pleading for Eddie to keep going.

“I asked you a question.”

When he doesn’t hear anything back, Eddie slaps your ass twice on both sides, causing you to cry louder in pain and pleasure, this hit stinging more than the rest, heightened by how close you just were to cumming. “I still don’t hear an answer. C’mon sweetheart, use that pretty mouth, I know she’s good for more than just gettin me off. I’m not gonna keep going unless I hear you.”

“Yes sir!” you wail out, eyes flooded with so many tears from your ruined orgasm that Eddie’s blurry in your vision. 

“Yes what?” You let out another whine, you both know that you don’t remember what Eddie asked you. “Please.”you plead.

“What are you begging me for sweetheart? It’s not that hard. You couldn’t have forgotten so quickly, I just said it to you. Are you too fucked out to pay attention? Too cock drunk to listen to what I have to say?”

This time, Eddie groans out at how hard you tighten against him, you feel his warm hands splay out against your lower back and slowly rubbing down against your ass soothingly. “I know, I know baby. I’ll keep going if you just tell me, I promise.”

Grabbing onto the pillow for support–because you know you’ll need it—smushing your face down and looking away from Eddies heavy gaze you gather enough courage and whisper out, “I forgot.”

Silence aside from the sound of your heavy pants engulfs the room. You can hear the faint sound of music still playing from the party downstairs, can almost feel the thump thump thump of the speakers against your cheek. You take a peek at Eddie from your hooded eyes, tears dried from how you shyly shoved your face into the pillow. His lips are straight, eyes calm yet scary. His hair is wilder than usual, bangs slightly sticking to his forehead from sweat and exertion. He still looks fucking delectible. 

You wait with bated breath on what Eddie’s about to do. Theres a plethora of things that he can decide and you have no clue which one it could be. He could either stop fucking you all together, shoving himself back into his pants and turn away until your begging on your knees for him. He could flip you back to the end of the bed, your head dangling on the edge as he fucks your throat as punishment. He could even just finger fuck you until you cum, as you continuously apologize and beg for him to fuck you proper. The possibilities are endless and each and every one makes you wetter than before. 

You want to cum so bad. 

You jump in surprise when Eddie makes his decision, jolting you out of your curious daydream of punishment. He’s lifting you up from the back of your shoulders until your back is pressed against his chest. The grip on your arm is tight and burns with a harsh vigor that you let out a breath as Eddie releases. His hands find their resting place wrapped around your tummy and the other sliding up to make a firm resting place on against your neck. 

He’s presses down on the sides of your neck and a moan leaves your lips at the sudden change of air in your lungs. Eyes heavy and blood rushing to your ears, you lean you the back of your head to fit into the crook of Eddies neck.  Eddie rubs his lips against the side of your face, kissing your cheeks before running his lip against your ear. “Maybe I need to be a little closer to you for you to hear me, huh sweetheart?”

And this time you nod your head rapidly, feeling his breath against your face, his teeth biting on your earlobe, pulling at it until you shriek and respond with words. “Yes sir!”

He moves his hand from your stomach, finding himself back at your entrance and you do everything in your power to not move a muscle. Waiting for him to decide when it’s time to fuck you again, no matter how much your drowning with desire to the point you’ll pass out if you don’t come soon. 

He finally pushes his cock inside you, setting the pace back into the fast and deep thrusts from before. You moan out a uh uh uh with each time his hips meet your ass, his hand on your throat still firm but not tight enough that you can’t speak.

“Say, ‘thank you sir’.” Eddie demands of you, his lips still hot on your ear his hand back around your lower tummy and pressing down, adding more emphasis to the budding pleasure thats growing back rapidly with each thrust. 

“Th-thank you s-sir.” you reply back, the words hitched out of your throat as you clench against him, moan floods you ear as you feel him fucking into you with a harder vigor. You’re not gonna last long and if Eddie keeps talking, you’re not gonna last period.

“There’s my good girl, took her a while but now she’s listening,huh?”

“Yes, sir!” 

“Thaat’s it- I’m so proud of you,” His praise go right down to your core and you cry out as you feel his hand on your lower abdomen slide down until they rest right against your aching clit. 

“Eddie ple-” Whatever other words you were going to say become mumbles as you feel the hand that was on your clit just seconds ago, shoved into your mouth. Three fingers prodding at your tongue and your try your best to suck around them as Eddie’s thrusts slowly start to turn sloppy.

He pulls them out and presses his newly wet fingers against your clit, rubbing expertly in the small circular motions that always send you there. “I think I punished my girl enough, maybe she deserves to cum.”

“Yes! Yes! Please Edd-sir please!” you beg.

“Please what?” His rubs at your clit faster, his thrusts stuttering but the pressure never changing.

“Please I deserve to cum.” You clunch on his cock at your own words that leave your mouth. Your orgasm is  so close you can literally taste it. You feel so hot and sweaty and sticky but so fucking good at the same time that you never want this to end. 

“If you deserve to cum then you gotta ask me baby.” Eddie pants out, you can tell from his hitched voice that he’s close, that this is making him just as hot and bothered as you, if not more. 

“C’mon baby, keep using that pretty mouth, I wanna hear you.”

Your orgasm is right there, a few more thrusts and a couple more flicks against your clit and you’ll be reeling in pleasure, but you do your best to hold on because Eddie hasn’t allowed it yet.

 “Oh fuck! I’m so close- Pl-Please Eddie, can I cum?” You whine out. 

“Please can I come sir.’”

“Ple-Please please can I cum sir? Pleasepleasepleaseplease-” you babble out the word as you get closer and closer to bursting. And when Eddie finally tells you that you can, you can hardly hear how loud you are with how much your ears are ringing. It feels like a weight is lifted off  your 

shoulders, and a million of nerves are exploding in your body and spasming as you hunch over. 

Eddie hasn’t stopped fucking you as you come, fingers still rubbing at their pace as he coos out praises, “Thaat’s it, there we go sweetheart, keep cummin. Uh huh, that’s it. Don’t stop baby I got you.”

It doesn’t take long until Eddie comes, his hips stuttering into a full stop as he pulses inside you, you moan at the feeling of his cum shooting in your walls. Both of you are panting heavy, the air knocked out of both of your lungs after that. Eddie slowly pulls out, you wince at the overstimulation of it all as he carefully places you back on the mattress. Cheeks smushed back into the pillow, Eddie turns and flops next to you, groaning at the feeling of the bed and the exertion of sex. 

The two of you lay for a bit in the silence, the party still going on beneath you. You can hear someone laughing with the sound of your ears still ringing. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as realization kicks in that you just let Eddie Munson fuck you when you swore on your life and to Heather that you wouldn’t ever again.