Still Going Strong

It had definitely been one of the worst dates you'd had in a long time, but still, the prospect of yet another Valentine's Day alone hang on the back of your tongue like a thick musk, drowning you in the disappointment of your date not being boyfriend material after all.

Slightly frustrated with yourself and your apparently relentless belief that one day you'd find true love, you buried your head in between the bedsheets and curled up your body, readying yourself for yet another lonely Sunday with nothing to keep you company but your comfort TV show on repeat.

It wasn't until well past noon you were ripped out of your vegetative state by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You heard how the hinges creaked open before you'd even had a chance to reply, but you weren't in the mood to face whoever had decided to disturb you and stayed with your back towards them.

"There you are!" Bucky's voice bounced through the walls as he took in the blob lying underneath a mountain of white bedlinen, a small foot sticking out at the corner. "I've been looking all over the compound for you, have you just been lying in here all day?"

"Yeah," you muttered in a bored tone of voice, your eyes still fixed on the TV screen in front of you.

"Hmm... I guess it's safe to assume that last night's Tinder adventure didn't exactly go as planned then?"

"No, it went perfectly fine, he's actually under here with me," you mumbled and heard how it made Bucky chuckle warmly behind you. "He's just a little shy."

"Well, tell him to come on out!" he chipped in amusement, "I want to meet the man who was finally worthy enough to be invited into your bed."

Slowly, you turned around to face your best friend who was leaning casually up against the doorframe with his big, bulky arms crossed over his chest as his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Okay, I'm alone in here," you admitted in a small voice and took in the large grin that split his face in two.

"Oh, I never would've guessed," he chuckled and stepped inside your room, closing the door to the hallway behind him, "- what happened?" he sat down next to you on the bed.

"I don't wanna talk about it," you groaned and directed your attention back to your TV, trying to ignore his satisfied smirk and prying eyes.

"Aw come on! You know your Tinder adventure is my favourite serial," he chuckled and searched your face with excited eyes, "how big of a train wreck was it? On a scale from pet-snake Larry to Paul the Magician."

"Barnes..." you sighed again, sending him a stern look as you took in his amused smirk, "I'm happy you find my terrible love life so amusing but I'm really not in the mood to joke about it today, okay?"

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, his face suddenly laced with concern. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" he gently touched his hand to the top of your duvet and let out a low, dark growl, "- he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, it's fine," you assured him with a shake of your head and saw how Bucky immediately drew a breath of relief. "He was a douchebag but that's it... I just don't see the appeal in my failing love life when tomorrow is the most romantic day of the year..."

"Since when do you care about Valentine's Day?" he arched an eyebrow at your statement. "Last year you said it was stupid...?"

"I've always cared," you whined and sent him a pained look, "- I've just never had anyone special to celebrate it with."

"That's because you have a way of always ending up with the douchebags..." he shrugged matter-of-factly. "You're setting yourself up for failure time and time again."

"It's hard to be picky," you let out a tired groan, "- there are literally no good men back in the city."

"No good men?" He repeated in mock offence, "oh, I beg to differ! There's a pretty decent guy sitting in front of you right now!" he touched his palm to his heart, pretending he was hurt.

"...What are you saying?" you felt yourself smile for the first time that day as you scanned his curled-up face, "you want to take me out now?"

"Yeah!" his entire face lit up and you let out a laugh at his cute smile. "What's so funny about that?" He poked you in the side with a chuckle, "come on, let me show you what a proper date is supposed to look like! Wouldn't it be nice to actually have a decent night out for once?!"

"Don't be ridiculous..." you rolled your eyes at him, "- what I want is something that might actually advance to more than just a story I tell my teammate to keep him amused."

"Sweetheart, I'm serious," he held up his hands in surrender. "Come on, let me show you a good time tomorrow! My treat!"

You hesitated. A fake date with your best friend wasn't exactly what you had in mind for the most romantic night of the year.

"Oh don't look so excited to go out with me!" He chuckled loudly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I'm sorry," you smiled, taking in the way his enticing metal hand whirred in front of your eyes as his fingers slightly twitched before falling down in his lap. "It's not that I don't want to do something with you," you fumbled to find the edge of the duvet so you could sneak out your hand to grab the cold vibranium fingers splayed over his muscular thigh. "- it's just not really what I had in mind for tomorrow."

"Hey you're the one who wanted a proper date for Valentine's Day, right?" He smiled softly and gently squeezed your fingers, "I'm offering you one. Come on, what's the harm? We always have fun, right?"

"We do," you nodded, thinking over his proposition, and slowly realising that a night out with him definitely beat another bad Tinder date. "Yeah, alright," you ended up smiling with a hesitant nod, "you have me convinced. It's a date."

"It's a date!" he agreed excitedly and padded your thigh before quickly jumping from the bed, leaving you cold and alone, "you won't regret it!"

"Hey! Where are you going?" You lifted your head from your pillow to take in the significant bounce in his step that he suddenly carried himself with. "Come back!"

"Can't," he spun around and smiled broadly at you, "I have some serious planning to do! I don't want to end up being one of the horrible dates you tell your teammate about!" he winked at you before practically skipping out the room.

February 14th, afternoon

For some reason you couldn't quite place, you'd been nervous about your night out with Bucky all day and it was weirding you out! You'd done plenty of stuff just the two of you before - dinners, movies, drinks - but something about going out with him on a night reserved exclusively for lovers, had you feeling warm and fuzzy as you waited for him to swing by your room to pick you up.

You hadn't seen him since he'd coaxed you into spending Valentine’s together, but he had texted you earlier to 'please wear the red dress' and now you were standing in front of your mirror, eyes hesitantly scanning the tight cocktail dress that was normally reserved for particularly special dates, wondering how Bucky so easily had managed to convince you to put it on for him.

Completely lost in thought, wondering what it would be like dating Bucky, you were slightly startled when there was a sudden knock on your door.

"Come in," you quickly scurried away from the mirror, trying to look as if you hadn't just been fidgety about your special date-night attire and the prospect of a very romantic night out with your best friend - fake or not.

The door opened slowly, revealing Bucky dressed in black from head to toe with a large bouquet of white flowers in hand. The dark colour of his suit and short hair framed his face perfectly, accentuating his clear, blue eyes and pink lips so dreamily that you had to fight the urge to reach out to check if he was real.

"Jesus," he immediately whistled, his entire body tensing as his eyes travelled between your face and hips. "You look amazing!" he said sincerely and ran a hand through the stubbles on his chin, looking slightly taken aback. "I mean... wow!"

"Stop that," you laughed and stepped aside so he could enter your room, "you've seen me in this dress a million times before."

"Yeah," he chuckled and licked his lips, turning around so he could admire you again, "- and you always look amazing, but it hits a little different to know that you're wearing it for me."

"I'm not wearing it for you," you lifted your eyebrows and shot him a dead-pan look, fighting hard to stop the smile that threatened to spring free on your face. "I only put it on because you told me to. I expect there's a reason for us to be dressed so formally," you gestured to his black attire.

"Aw come on," he took a step closer and sent you a cute little pout, "- just let me have one small, tiny win. Tell me you put it on just for me!"

He was smelling heavenly, and he looked terribly cute as he charmingly grinned at you.

"You're insufferable, Barnes," you couldn't hold back the broad smile any longer, "- alright, I put it on just for you," you slowly drawled out. "There you go - Happy?"

"Mmh," he closed his eyes and threw his head backwards with a groan so sensual you had to pretend you were shifting your weight on purpose and not because a jolt of short-lived desire had woken up every fibre in your entire nervous system. "That's my girl," he winked at you, seemingly ignoring your slightly confused face as he held out the bouquet of white tulips. "These are for you."

"You bought me flowers?" you asked with your eyebrows raised high, ignoring the burning sensation on your face. "- Really? No one's ever bought me flowers before..."

"That's what I've been saying, sweetheart," he smiled, looking oddly proud of himself, "- you're dating the wrong guys!"

"I'd say!" you gave the tulips a brief sniff before turning around to find a vase for them to fit in. "That's really sweet of you, Barnes! And on a fake date nonetheless! ...you know, it's funny, but I always pictured you as a roses man."

"Yeah, back in the forties I probably would've bought any girl roses," he sighed softly behind you, and you could almost hear the smirk in his voice as he slowly continued; "- but let's be honest, doll; you're not just any girl..."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?" you laughed as you arranged the flowers in the vase, your back still turned towards him.

"Depends on whether it's working or not."

"Weirdly enough, it is," you chuckled and turned around to face him again only to see how his eyes immediately snapped upwards to meet yours.

From the intense stare he suddenly gave you and the way he slowly licked his broadly grinning lips, you were sure he'd just had his gaze firmly placed on your ass, but you chose not to comment on it. It wasn't exactly the first time you'd caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, but it was the first time you'd felt an odd sensation of pride flow through your body at the thought.

"Do you - uh - do you want something to drink?" you tilted your head to the side, smiling at him as your eyes wandered over the fitted suit.

He was casually leaning up against the wall with his hands buried in his pockets, the confident smirk still in place. "I'm good," he lightly shook his head and pulled up his sleeve to look at his wristwatch, "actually, we should probably get going - we have reservations," he grabbed your woollen overcoat from the coat rack near the door, holding it out so you could easily slip your arms into the sleeves. "- and as much as I'd hate to cover up that beautiful dress, you should probably put this on or I'll be having dinner with an icicle."

"Yeah? What are we doing?" you laughed and gratefully turned your back towards him so he could pull the jacket up your shoulders.

"I'm not gonna say," he teased behind you, the excited smile evident in his voice. "It's a secret!"

"A fake date complete with secret activities?" you laughed and slowly turned towards him again. "I gotta say; I'm impressed, Barnes!"

By pure instinct, you reached up and adjusted the Windsor knot below the collar of his shirt, accidentally staring directly into his beautiful, blue gaze. His breathing picked up at your touch, the muscles surrounding his big doe eyes completely relaxed as he took you in, his wide-blown pupils darting back and forth between your irises.

"Tonight's all about impressing you, darling," he muttered slowly, his Adam's apple bouncing enticingly in his throat as your fingers gave an involuntary twitch atop his sternum.

"Well..." you carefully took a step backwards and gently removed your hands from his chest under the pretence you were busy brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "- You're succeeding."

Bucky seemed to recover from the intimate moment between you a lot quicker than you did and sent you his usual charming smirk with the tongue darting out between his teeth to lick his lips. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," you muttered, still slightly flustered as you grabbed your purse and keys.

"Remember to lock up," he sent you a wink. “Can’t have you come back home to find your door unlocked.”

"Of course," you nodded and turned the key before dumping the bundle down in your coat pocket. "Alright. Good to go," you smiled at him.

"Great," he put his hand on the small of your back, leading you away from your room and towards the steel elevators at the end of the hallway.

Under normal circumstances, you were pretty sure you'd be blabbering away, trying to guess what he had planned for tonight, but right now, all you could sense were the large fingers moving over your lower back, the touch so affectionate and intimate that you felt your cheeks go warm again as you involuntarily leaned into it. Silently, you prayed that Bucky wouldn't suddenly turn his head to look at you and realise how his foreign touch had made you slightly giddy.

"You're being quiet," he concluded after a few seconds of silence as the elevator zoomed downwards.

"Just excited for tonight," you managed to mumble, your voice weirdly thick as he started stroking his thumb over a small area of your lower spine, sending you a happy sideways glance.

The electronic panel of the elevator announced your arrival at the bottom floor of the building with a loud ding, and Bucky pressed in on your back, excitedly urging you to move through the steel doors. "Right over here," he chipped happily and lead you to a dark corner of the parking lot where his motorcycle was parked.

"We're riding your Harley?" you arched an eyebrow, taking in the large machine in front of you.

"Yep," he grinned and handed you a helmet.

"- the exact same Harley you won't even let Sam touch...?"

"Well, you're not Sam are you?" he chuckled and swung his leg over the seat, scooting forwards to make room for you on the back of the bike.

He had his legs spread wide around the stealthy machine, his large hands wrapped tightly across the leather of the handles as he rotated the key in the ignition, making the bike rumble to life beneath him. Grinning broadly, he turned his head to look at you, the dimmed lights from the parking garage making him look dark, mysterious, and annoyingly enticing on top of his black motorcycle.

You were frozen, completely taken aback by how the image in front of you was making your mind hazy, blocking out anything but your best friend sitting wide legged and alluring only two feet away.

"Well, are you coming?" he asked slowly, causing a deep shiver to run down your spine as his voice was even huskier than normal.

"Uh - Yeah..." It woke you from your mind-muffling trance and you quickly strapped the helmet underneath your chin and took the seat behind Bucky so he couldn't see the bafflement evident on your face.

The leather of the seat was soft and pliant against the backside of your thighs, and you easily sank into a comfortable position behind him as you wrapped your arms around his warm waist, lacing your fingers around his stomach.

"You good back there?" he sent you a smile over his shoulder, putting a reassuring hand on top of yours, affectionately stroking his thumb over your wrist.

You could feel his heavy heartbeat in his chest, the hard muscles of his stomach tensing as you wrapped your arms tighter around him, readying yourself for when he turned on the gas. "Yeah," you nodded, wondering if he too could feel the sensation of a foreign heart beating rapidly against his torso.

"Hold on tight, doll," he said huskily as he twisted the right-side handle with a roar of the bike and slowly drove out of the garage and into the night.

For the first few minutes on the road, you were completely overwhelmed by the feeling of absolute freedom that the ride brought you.

Elegantly, Bucky steered the bike through the busy streets of New York, the coloured lights of Manhattan coming closer and closer as you clung tightly to his warm body, your heart beating faster than ever against your ribcage, and you wondered if the high level of adrenaline coursing through your veins was due to the bike-ride, or the way Bucky felt against you as he easily balanced the large machine between his legs.

You rode for about thirty minutes, not stopping until you'd reached an expensive-looking building in Brooklyn Heights.

"We're eating here?" you let him help you off the bike as you looked in awe at the expensive cars parked outside.

"No, sweetheart," he chuckled and put your helmet in the compartment underneath the leather seat before pressing his hand to the small of your back again. "We're doing something far better for dinner. This is just the warm-up. Come on," he softly pushed you forwards and guided you into the lobby and towards the golden elevator at the end where he pressed the button for the top floor.

He was smiling confidently above you, moving his hand over your hips and stepping closer to your body. You were just about to let him know that you liked his touch, that he looked more handsome than ever, but the elevator doors suddenly slid open at the designated floor, taking away your privacy.

"After you, sweetheart," Bucky cleared his throat and let his hand fall to his side, making your body feel weirdly naked without his firm touch.

The place he'd taken you was a prohibition-themed bar complete with gold ornaments, checkerboard tiles and coffered wood ceilings. The atmosphere was warm and romantic, every mahogany table occupied by anticipating lovers holding hands and sipping expensive-looking cocktails.

Bucky made sure to walk close to you as you made your way through the sitting crowd, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you when his fingers occasionally brushed over your dress as he lead you to a table near one of the tall floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the East River.

"Wow Buck," you murmured as you sat down and took in the romantic view before you; how the skyscrapers on the other side of the river rose calmly against the pink evening sky. "This is amazing!"

"Yeah, I was hoping we'd get here in time to catch the sunset," he smiled and confidently leaned back in his chair, his eyes darting between you and the beautiful view outside. "...Would you like a drink?" He asked softly and handed you a heavy leather-inbound cocktail card.

"Thanks," you brushed your fingers over his as you accepted the menu from his hand and had to suppress the urge to let them linger. You only briefly managed to catch the way his chest heaved in anticipation as a breath hitched in your throat, your gaze turned towards the card in your lap.

"Fuck, Bucky!" you let your eyes wander down the list of beverages, "- this is crazy expensive!"

Bucky let out a heart-warming laugh that had your cheeks go so warm that you forced yourself to firmly keep your eyes on the list of drinks in front of you so he wouldn't notice how he kept causing reactions in you. "It's okay, sweetheart," he chuckled, "just pick something you like and don't look at the prices. My treat, remember?"

Slowly, you looked back up at his amused smile, a mild look of shock evident on your face. "What? No! You know I can't let you do that!" You gasped, "It'll be a fortune - and Buck, this isn't even a real date?!"

The words had barely escaped you before the smirk slipped from his face. Trying not to let the disappointment seep through him, he pressed his lips tightly together as he looked at you, his hand immediately going through his hair, slicking it back. "Come on," he sighed briefly and leaned in, forcing out a stiff smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Just pretend... please - just for tonight, okay? Let me spoil you," he pleaded quietly, nervously licking his lips.

You almost protested. Almost insisted on paying your own half, but something about the way he was looking at you told you that it wasn't up for discussion - that he had wanted to do this for quite some time.

"Alright," you ended up sighing while taking in his determined face. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"Anything for you," he nodded and sent you a cute smile before turning his gaze back to the menu in front of him. "So... drinks! What are you having?" he smiled softly, his eyes briefly skirting over your face again. "I think I'll go with the Macallan fifteen - How about you?”

"Am I supposed to take a scotch as well?"

"No, sweetheart," Bucky chuckled warmly, "you can have whatever you like!"

"I have sovereignty? Well, this already beats half the dates I’ve been on this year!“ you laughed and danced your eyes over the list of cocktails. "I'll have the Tequila Martini then."

"Tequila Martini for the lady," he winked at you and left for the bar with a certain self-assured swagger in his step you hadn't seen before. He was carrying himself differently than normal, almost as if he was proud to have your eyes on him, and you silently wondered if he was always like this on dates; so confident and enticing that the people he asked out couldn't tear their eyes away from him.

He was standing with his broad back turned towards you, his legs spread confidently apart as he put his weight on his right foot and grabbed the attention of the bartender with a raised hand and a charming smile. After he’d placed your order, he slowly turned around and sent you a blinding smile accompanied by a wink, making your heart immediately picked up its pace.

You had never realised just exactly how high his cheekbones were, the sharpness of his angled jaw, his straight nose. He was without a doubt one of the most handsome men you'd ever laid your eyes on, but it was as if you didn't truly appreciate it until that exact moment.

He sent you a stomach-warming wink before turning back to the bar to pay for your drinks, picking up the two glasses and slowly swaggering back over you.

"Here you go," he slid the tall martini glass over the table and had a sip of his own mahogany-coloured drink.

"Thanks," you sheepishly accepted the drink from him and had a sip as well. "Have you ever been here before? You walk like you own the room."

He let out a laugh, "yeah, funny you should mention it. I actually did live here briefly."

"What?" you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, the ground floor used to house one of Brooklyn's finest cobblers. I spent a few summers working for him to make a buck or two before I got drafted. Slept in his spare room at night and even snuck out there sometimes," he pointed towards the terrace outside. "- though it wasn't nearly as neat back then."

"Mmh," you twirled the straw of your drink between your fingers, smiling as you imagined a young, starry-eyed Bucky in dirty work rags. "What was Brooklyn like back then?"

Bucky looked away, contemplating his answer for a few seconds before sending you a crooked smile. "Smelly," he nodded, "- but wonderful! You would've loved it!"

"Yeah, I've heard it had a certain charm... I've actually been wondering -" you cocked your head to the side and saw how he leaned in in excitement, "- given the chance, would you go back to Brooklyn in the 40s?"

"...Well, it depends," he drawled, squinting his eyes and looking at you as if you'd just asked him a million dollar question, "- would you be there?"

"Well, no," you shook your head and took a sip of your drink. "I can't go with you since I won't be born until several decades later."

"Then it's a hard pass," he shook his head without taking a time-out to think.

"Really?" you laughed at how resolutely he was looking at you. "I mean that much to you that you'd actually stay here?"

"Sweetheart," he drawled and licked his lips, looking as if he'd won the lottery. "I'd follow you just about anywhere..."

You immediately felt your insides squirm in your belly at his soft-spoken words, his eyes more piercing than ever as he leaned in close with an excited smile on his lips.

"That's really sweet Barnes," you mumbled and tried to hide your flustered face behind your glass as he merely smiled softly at you.

Bucky ended up buying you two more cocktails, the conversation flowing more freely than you'd ever experienced in such a fancy setting before. He told you about his life before the war, stories you'd heard a million times before, but somehow never grew tired of.

Slowly, the night sky outside changed from magenta to lilac as the bar filled up with anticipating lovers, but you and Bucky were far too lost in each other to sense anything else.

It wasn't until the conversation fell on his Ma's cuisine, you realised just how hungry you were, and Bucky suggested grabbing something to eat.

"Aren't we riding the bike again?" You asked curiously when the clear night air of the Brooklyn street hit your lungs and Bucky turned the opposite direction.

"No, dinner's just around the corner," he nodded and waited for you to catch up to him.

"Where are we going?" you asked curiously, happy to see the small smile dancing on the corner of his lips when you interlocked your elbow around his.

"Oh, I have reservations for the finest dinner in all of Brooklyn," he chuckled lowly.

"Another fancy place to impress me?" You arched an eyebrow at him, hoping he was joking.

"Mmmh," he briefly squinted his eyes and tilted his head from side to side, "...something like that..."

He stopped half-way through Brooklyn Bridge Park, a purple food truck blasting mariachi music loudly beside you. He was grinning broadly as he locked eyes with you. "You want veggie or carne?" he asked excitedly.

"What?" You mirrored his laugh, taking in his amused face without understanding what was going on.

"Veggie or carne?" He repeated, this time a bit louder as the smile grew on his lips, "- for your tacos."

"Oh, we're having tacos!" you laughed, looking at the heavenly-smelling truck beside you, your eyes already scanning the different options.

"It's your favourite, isn't it?" He chuckled with an arched eyebrow. "Your ultimate comfort food."

"Yes, but how on earth do you know that?" You grinned.

"I know everything about you, sweetheart," he winked at you with a warm smile. "- and I just thought, since you always order Mexican when you're down, I'd change it around for you; tacos should be a means of celebrating."

"And what are we celebrating today?" You challenged him with an arched eyebrow.

"You finally agreeing to go out with me of course," he nodded and bumped his elbow against yours. "Come on, what are you having?"

"Alright," you grinned, liking his flirty stare. "I'll have two veggie."

"Coming right up, sweetheart," he winked at you and went to get your food while you sat down on a nearby bench, once again looking over at the Manhattan skyline.

"Hope you're hungry," Bucky laughed five minutes later when he sat down next to you, handing you two huge tacos while his other hand was clutching three for himself.

"Like you wouldn't believe," you happily accepted the food and started unwrapping one of them. "So... is this what a normal Bucky Barnes date looks like?" you had a bite of your taco and turned your head to look at him. "Fancy cocktails on top of the world followed by tacos in Brooklyn Bridge Park?"

"No, this is special," Bucky chuckled while looking between you and the Manhattan skyline with a small, knowing smile on his lips. "This is custom-made, just for you."

"Well..." you smiled and bumped your knee against him, "- you did good! This is really, really nice."

"It is," he nodded and slung his arm over the backrest of the bench, finding your body and pressing his fingers into your ribs to pull you a little closer to his comfortable torso.

You couldn't stop the satisfied sigh that left your lips at his welcome touch, and immediately put your head on the top of his shoulder, having a bite of your taco as you looked up at the blinking light atop Empire State Building's lightening rod, trying not to think too much about rhythm of his heavy heartbeat against your spine. "What do you usually do on dates then?"

"Sweetheart," Bucky chuckled above you, the warm sound bouncing in his chest against your backside. "I've known you what - two years now? Have you ever heard me talking about going on a date?"

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, letting his words sink in. "Hold up..." you turned your head to look up at him. "- you haven't been on a date in over two years?"

"No," he shook his head resolutely and plumped in the last bite of one of his tacos, "- haven't met anyone I want to go out with..."

You blew a raspberry, "that's not true!" you laughed, "what about the girls you bring home from the bar? Don't tell me you haven't invited just a single one of them out afterwards!"

You felt him freeze slightly, his chest suddenly hard and tense underneath the back of your head. "...You - uh - you know about that?" he mumbled quietly as he immediately stopped chewing.

"Yeah, well, we share a wall, Buck" you nodded and looked up at his cringing face. "And it's not exactly as if neither you nor your dates are playing the quiet game in there," you shrugged, trying to push away the small, weird pang of sudden jealousy at the late night memories from your lonely room.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled awkwardly and balled up the wax paper from one of his tacos, throwing it in the bin to hide his embarrassment.

"Don't feel bad," you looked up at his guilty expression. "- it's okay... I'm sure you've heard me have sex plenty of times as well."

"Yeah... yeah I have," he breathed and shifted awkwardly behind you, his gaze firmly fixed on the dark horizon, his breathing rhythmless and laboured.

"- I'm just surprised you haven't asked anyone out, is all," you continued, still fighting the envious fire in your stomach. "I've seen how they're all lining up for you. You could have anyone you want!"

"...you'd be surprised," he mumbled, his cheeks dusted a faint shade of pink. "I - uhm - I don't know," he shrugged with a small sigh, "- I guess I just haven't met anyone I find interesting enough to spend an evening with outside the bedroom..."

"…apart from me!" you chuckled, sending him what you hoped was an amused glance.

"Yeah, apart from you, doll", he smiled softly, his body finally letting go of some of the tension it held although he was still sounding wary behind you, "- you're special."

"Likewise," you nodded slowly as the fire in the pit of your stomach finally doused. "...Okay I gotta ask you; when was the last time you had a date?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I tried some dating apps a few years ago. Wasn't really my thing. I guess I'm too old-fashioned for the whole online thing. I want a real meet cute."

"Yeah, well you're never gonna have a meet cute if you never leave the compound's gym," you chuckled.

"Hey, I left the gym tonight, didn't I?" he chuckled sincerely, and you were happy to finally feel his chest bounce in amusement against you again.

"Yeah, but do you really believe you're going to meet someone while you're dragging me along?" You laughed, hoping to dear God that he wouldn't.

"I don't know," he ran a hand through his short hair while licking his lips, "you never know when the right person's suddenly standing in front of you. I want to be ready for when that finally happens."

"Can't wait for that to happen to me," you sighed.

"Yeah... Can't wait either," he mumbled quietly and softly ran his thumb over your shoulder.

"Well, we can keep dreaming, the two of us," you looked up at him and softly patted his thigh. "The forever singles."

"Yeah," he nodded before he went quiet, fixing his gaze on the horizon again, taking in the dusk. "You ready for the next part of the date?" he asked after a few seconds.

"There's more?"

"Yeah, of course there's more, come on," he chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you back through the park to a building opposite the fancy bar where you'd had drinks.

"The Pelican Club?" you read the large neon sign above the brass double doors. "What's this? Are we going for more drinks?"

"No," he grabbed your hand and pulled you inside to a dark room covered in heart-shaped balloons and confetti, a loud band in the corner playing peppy swing jazz for the out-of-breath-people on the dance floor. "We're going dancing!" he exclaimed happily and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"Barnes!" You squealed desperately and leaned in close to outshout the loud music, "I can't dance!"

"Neither can I," he shouted back with a laugh, "I haven't danced since before the war!" He grabbed a coat hanger and held out his hand to take your jacket. "...What?" He laughed when you hesitated, "- you'd trust me with your life in the field but not when it comes to something as harmless as dancing?"

You bit your lower lip, taking in how the people on the dance floor moved effortlessly with their partners, sure that you were going to make a fool of both yourself and Bucky.

"- Come on," he interrupted your train of thought with a charming smile, "- you're gonna love it, I swear!"

"Oh God..." you rolled your eyes and shook the woollen coat from off your shoulders, sending him a nervous look. "Alright! But just so you're prepared; everybody's gonna look at us!"

"Oh I hope so," he grinned, "it would be a crime not to acknowledge such a beautiful woman in such a beautiful dress," he drawled and once more put his hand on the small of your back, the pillowy words along with his somewhat craving touch so blinding and desirable, that you briefly forgot he was leading you to a dance floor.

He stopped in the middle of the room, turning around to face you. "You ready?"

"I guess," you nodded, slightly anxious about what was going to happen, but calming down almost immediately when Bucky's right hand found yours. Carefully, his metal fingers grabbed your hip and he pulled you flush against his chest.

You were looking up at him, the expression on his face soft and longing as he slowly moved his fingers over your hipbone, his chest heaving steadily before you. "Just let me lead, sweetheart," he leaned in close and whispered in your ear, his voice laced with thick syrup that melted into your ear canals and made your knees weak.

"O-okay," you nodded and followed him as he took a step to the side, his eyes never leaving yours.

You'd never seen him like this before; so tender and so up close you could take in every small detail of his angled face; the almost invisible small, brown freckles cute and innocently splashed over his straight nose, the fullness of his heavy lower lip and the curve of his cupid's bow contrasting the sharp jaw with the rough stubbles, the splash of dark blue in his otherwise clear, cerulean eyes that were dancing happily across your face.

Why had you never realised how handsome, and masculine, and dreamy he was before he’d coaxed you for a date? All this time you'd just thought of him as your sweet friend Bucky Barnes, never really seeing him for what he truly was; a fucking tease! And as you swayed on the dance floor under his full, undeniable attention, everything inside of you was screaming it at you, reminding you how blind you'd been all this time! A large megaphone ringing in your head; your best friend is the most desirable man in the world!

You saw how the small happy wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he pulled the corners of his enticing lips upwards, his beautiful irises darting back and forth between your eyes, desperate to take in everything so he wouldn't miss out on the way you were looking at him.

"You're staring, doll," he smirked.

"Sorry," you mumbled and quickly fixed your gaze on the fingers you had placed on top of his shoulder, not wanting him to get scared at the sudden realisation you felt within.

"Don't apologise," he smiled and tilted his head closer to yours to search your face again. "I'm not complaining. I like when you look at me."

Slightly embarrassed by the audible gulp that his words activated in your throat, you carefully found his eyes, savouring the way he breathed in your arms when your gazes finally met again.

"My God," he whispered quietly, "you are beautiful."

"Barnes," you whimpered slightly, looking at his deep blue eyes, your entire body tense as he slowly swung you around.

He moved his hand over your hip, dipping his fingers a little lower than he had before as he leaned in close and whispered in your ear, "I could look at you forever..."

You could feel his breath on your skin, how the words wrapped themselves around you and made your knees feel weaker than ever. Bucky's metal fingers were placed firmly on the lower part of your hip, but you could feel how they slowly started moving up to caress your waist sensually. His aromatic cologne was invading all your senses, filling up your nostrils while his flesh hand slowly caressed your fingers, his dark eyes never leaving you.

You swayed in silence for a while, looking at each other with small, love-drunk smiles playing on your lips, the up-tempo music in the background far too fast for the type of dance you'd engaged in. The megaphone inside your head came in louder and louder the longer you stared at him; kiss him! Kiss him! But you weren't sure if you were putting too much into your dancing, and thus kept your lips at a distance, not wanting to scare him away.

"You - uh," he eventually grinned when the jazz band behind you started playing an even peppier song. "- you wanna get out of here? There's something I'd like to show you."

You merely nodded, completely lost for words as his entire presence had engulfed you.

"Alright," he removed his fingers from your hip and instead grabbed your hand, slowly pulling you to the other side of the dance floor with your fingers carefully intertwined.

Eager for the next part of his plan, you were back in the Brooklyn night air in no time, this time walking towards his motorcycle.

"What do you want to show me?" You locked your palms around his elbow and pressed your hip against his.

"When are you gonna learn that I'm not gonna tell you anything?" he laughed as he flipped open the leather seat of the bike and pulled out a blanket from the compartment underneath. "Have I not given you your money's worth up until now?"

"Oh, you've given me so much more," you chuckled and followed him back up the street.

"Alright -" he shot you a sideways glance and wrapped his arm around your shoulder again, "because you've been so well-behaved and haven't called it a fake date for hours, I'll give you a hint; what we're about to do is my favourite past-time."

"Your favourite past-time? Are we going to the gym?" You laughed, "Or are we annoying Sam? I can't decide what you like the best."

He blew a raspberry and laughed loudly, opening the door to an abandoned warehouse. "You'll see," he chuckled and led you up several flights of stairs, not stopping until you'd reached the roof of the building.

"Is your favourite past time murdering young women on top of creepy old buildings? " You laughed and sat down on a tattered bench leaning up against an old chimney. "Why are there even seats up here?"

"Because this is the prime spot in the city for stargazing," he pointed upwards.

"Stargazing?" You mumbled, your eyes following his. Your mind was immediately taken aback by the sight that met you: the sky had long ago turned from lilac to a deep blue, but now it was lit up by thousands of tiny stars twinkling competitively with the man next to you. "Wow," you breathed quietly, keeping your gaze on the many lights although Bucky's enticing scent was screaming at you to direct your attention towards him instead.

"I know," his deep voice brought you back down to earth as he unfolded the fuzzy blanket halfway and wrapped it around your shoulders before taking the seat next to you.

"As if I'm letting you freeze," you chuckled and unwrapped the other half, draping it over both your shoulders, scooting a little closer to him on the bench so the plaid could reach around both of you. You felt how his fingers hesitantly found your hips, but when you didn't move away as he pressed his fingertips to your hipbone, he snuggled a little closer.

"It's really beautiful out here tonight," you breathed as you gazed upwards. "It's not often we get to see stars this clearly in New York."

"Yeah, we're quite lucky," he scooted even closer to you, his gaze briefly skirting over your awed face.

"Yeah," you breathed, trying to ignore how close his lips were as you took in the beauty of Cassiopeia above you, "I used to sit like this with my best friend when I was a kid..."

Bucky slowly turned his face away from you, letting out an inaudible gulp as he furrowed his eyebrows, the look on his face tender and anticipating as he too looked upwards. "Me too," he mumbled after a few seconds, "- although the sky was even clearer back then."

"You used to watch the stars with Steve?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "we could sit up here for hours, imagining what our lives would be. I guess neither of us quite hit the target."

"Guess not," you grinned and caressed his leg underneath the blanket to show him that you understood. "Do you miss him?"

"Yeah, every day," Bucky nodded, "I wish you guys had met. He would've liked you."

"Me too," you softly stroked your little finger over his kneecap to console him. "He seems like a good man."

"The best," Bucky concluded with a nod, "- but I guess it all turned out how it was supposed to anyway. He's with Peggy, the love of his life, and I'm here with you..." he smiled softly, tilting his head from side to side. "Well - and Sam of course."

"Ah yes!" You laughed, "- let's not forget about the love of your life!"

"Don't tell him I mentioned him," he sent you a crooked smile, "I'd never hear the end of it!"

"I'll try not to," you chuckled and moved your hand over the tense muscles of his thigh. "Did you and Steve take all your dates dancing back then?"

"Of course," he nodded, "I wasn't stupid. Perfect opportunity for prolonged eye contact and a few strategically placed hands."

"Oh my God," rolled your eyes with a laugh.

"You should've seen me," he smirked, "two arms and an undeniable boyish charm. And when I put on the uniform, they didn't stand a chance in resisting me."

"Oh, I bet!" you chuckled, "Did you take them up here afterwards then?"

"Sometimes," he smirked, and you could feel how he his breathing was coming in nervous. "If they were particularly special," he held you a little tighter.

You sat in silence for a while, both of you smiling up at the stars above you, taking in the beauty of the night sky while Bucky's hand softly caressed your shoulder and upper arm.

"Alright," he said suddenly, looking at his wristwatch, "I'm afraid that's it for tonight. A gentleman always has his girl home before midnight," he winked at you and stood up from the bench, offering you his hand.

"Scared that your coach might turn into a pumpkin?" You laughed and let him help you to your feet.

"It's just proper dating etiquette. And I'm showing you what a proper date looks like, remember?" he winked at you.

"Yeah," you nodded, happy that he had decided to take you out even though you'd been hesitant to accept at first. "Of course," you smiled up at him and laced your fingers between his, feeling his pulse in the tips as he lead you back down the flight of stairs and over to his motorcycle.

"Hey, you wanna steer?" he asked suddenly while watching you strap your helmet.

"Steer? The bike?"

"Come on, it's easy," he grinned and swung his leg over the seat, scooting backwards to make room for you in front of him. "Come here," he said quietly as you slowly approached him and swung your leg over the seat as well. Bucky put his hands on your hips to keep you in place and pressed you against his warm chest, a deep flutter shooting through your limbs, fogging up your brain.

"So what you want to do," he leaned in close and almost whispered in your ear, "- is to keep one hand on the throttle at all times," he wrapped his large hand around yours on top of the right handle. "Roll it towards yourself to speed up, the other way to slow down, okay?" He waited for your confirmation before he continued, "- up here, you squeeze the lever to brake the front wheel," he stretched your right-hand fingers and pressed in on them before moving his large hand to your leg, brushing his fingers over the exposed skin at your thigh before pointing towards a pedal by your foot. "- and this one to break the back wheel," he whispered and sent shivers down your spine as he put his other hand low on the left side of your hip. "You shift gears on the clutch up here - and by using the pedal down there, but don't worry about that, I'll do that, you just concentrate on speed and steering... Okay, doll?" He whispered sensually and slowly moved both hands over your thighs, his fingers warm on your skin against the cold February air.

The words were stuck in your throat, and you couldn't move. You wanted to feel his hands on your entire body, not just on the strip of exposed skin below the hem of your dress. "Mmm-hmm," you mumbled, a flush of sensuality settling in your stomach as you took in the way his fingers felt on you.

"Alright, sweetheart," he whispered, his lips dangerously close to your ear, "when you're ready, push the ignition and slowly roll the throttle towards yourself."

You did as he said, feeling how the machine rumbled and spluttered as it came to life between your legs. Bucky had his arm draped casually across your waist and he scooted a little closer to you, making himself comfortable on the leather seat underneath the two of you as you slowly turned the right handlebar and felt how the bike immediately reacted to it and started rolling down the street.

The miles sped away underneath the black tires as you steered through Brooklyn and upstate to the Avenger's compound you both called home. The lights of the city were a blur around you, Bucky's warm breath pleasant against your neck, his lips buzzing right next to the sensitive skin.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart," he mumbled in your ear while gently running his fingers over the soft fabric of your red dress, grinning against your ear every time you gave an unconscious squeeze to the throttle, coaxing more power from the rumbling machine beneath you.

Before you'd really had a chance to savour the ride back from Manhattan and Bucky's warm praises against your skin, you had parked the motorcycle in the garage, had giggled innocently in the short elevator ride to your floor, and were suddenly standing outside your bedroom door, saying good night.

"Thanks for doing this, Barnes, I had a really great time with you.”

"Me too, sweetheart," he muttered and put his head on the wall while looking at you with a soft expression, the air between you more charged than ever. "I hope it was worth sacrificing your Valentine's Day over."

You took a step closer to him and touched the hem of his jacket sleeve, "this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had, thank you."

Bucky's eyes scanned your face briefly as a proud smile emerged on his lips. "Me too, sweetheart..." he nodded, looking as if he was having a hard time holding himself back from touching you.

"So... how does the Bucky Barnes experience usually end?" you asked quietly, looking up at his piercing eyes.

"Well," he drawled, "...there are a couple of outcomes. And they all depend on the key jangle."

"The key jangle?" you asked hesitantly and furrowed your eyebrows, suddenly nervous you were failing some sort of weird test.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded his head with a chuckle, "- you see; when you follow a woman to her door, and you stand like this," he took a step closer and pointed between the two of you, "she will always either fiddle with her keys or not depending on how eager she is to open the door. A key jangle without an invitation to come inside, means you should just thank her for tonight, turn around and go home. Key jangle and an invitation means she really wants you to come up for a nightcap. And no key jangle at all usually means she wants you to kiss her at her door."

"You can tell all that just from the keys?" you threw back your head with a laugh, taking in how he shifted his weight on his feet and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, usually..." he licked his lips hesitantly, his eyes travelling down to your hands that you had buried in the pockets of your coat.

You knew what he was requesting; he wanted to see if you were fiddling your keys or not.

Slowly, you pulled both hands up from your pockets, laying them flat in front of him and turning them around, showing him your empty palms.

His eyes snapped from your hands and up to your face.

His chest was heaving slowly, his eyes darkening as the pupils slowly drowned out the blue in his irises while he looked at you. "No keys," he concluded quietly, trying hard to fight the smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth. "Fuck me," he smiled broadly, and stepped over to you, putting his calloused palm to the side of your face where he stroked his thumb over your jawline while his lips danced enticingly close to yours.

You let out a small whimper at the soft touch, reached up, and pressed your pillowy lips to his broad smile.

The kiss was short and sweet, but it didn't take Bucky two seconds before he let out a satisfied groan and pulled you closer. "Fuck, sweetheart!" he whispered with a breath heavier than ever before. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he growled and put his hand in the back of your neck, his lips urging you to open your mouth so he could slip his tongue past your teeth and into your wet mouth.

He gave out a sensual groan when your tongues finally found each other and happily trailed his metal fingers up your side; touching the exposed skin of your thigh, grazing over the curve of your hip, massaging your waistline through the soft fabric of your red dress.

You pulled your head slightly backwards, just enough to free your lips from his, but the quiet whimper that escaped Bucky's throat when he chased your mouth wasn't lost on you.

"You wanna..." you breathed, taking in his blushed face, his hooded eyelids, his unruly hair, "- you wanna come inside?"

He smirked proudly and leaned closer, pressing a series of soft, wet kisses to your throat that were so sensual and full of lust that this time, it was you who whimpered.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he breathed against the wet spots on your neck, "fuck I wanna come inside!" He growled and resumed his kisses to the thin skin below your ear as you desperately tried to fit your key in the lock.

His hands were snaking around your stomach, his palms pressing you closer to his pelvis, and he leaned in close and whispered in your ear. "Sweetheart, I want to take you out again..." he pulled your earlobe between your teeth.

"Buck!" You gasped when you felt his fingers graze over the skin of your inner thighs.

"Tonight wasn't play-pretend for me..." he whispered, "I want you. All of you. Not just on missions and during training sessions at the gym - all the time."

You fiddled with your keys in the lock, desperate to rip off his clothes, and finally managed to open the door to your room.

You quickly spun around in his arms and felt his large palms dip lower on your hips while he was looking at you with a slightly nervous and anticipating look.

"Okay you got me," you whispered and hooked a finger in his collar as you took a step backwards and hauled him into your room.

He's been at the compound almost two weeks now, always following Steve around looking anxious and slightly beside himself as he tries his best to blend in with the wall behind him, flinching if someone comes a little too close or laughs a little too loudly near him. You've all noticed his nervous eyes constantly darting all over his surroundings, clearly checking for the nearest exit to make sure he can escape at just a moment's notice.

You also haven't heard him say much apart from his name when he first arrived and the occasional 'yes' or 'no' when Steve asks him stuff, but you've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you've got your attention directed elsewhere.

You wonder if he's having a hard time adjusting not only to his new home but also to the flourishing friendship between you and Steve, so you give both of them space to find each other again. After all, Steve is important to you, so by proxy, Bucky is too.

Day 19

Three weeks in and you're eating dinner by yourself in the kitchen when you hear footsteps from the hallway. 

"Smells like the kitchen's occupied right now," Steve's soft voice sounds from the other side of the wall before he's even shown himself in the doorframe, "come on, we'll just come back later."

"You can come in, it's okay," you call back over your plate of chicken tikka masala, excited to finally have an excuse to talk to Steve after weeks of almost complete radio-silence.

He pokes his head around the door frame. "You sure? We can wait 30 minutes until you're done - we don't mind, do we Buck?" He looks over his shoulder and you hear Bucky mumble something incoherently before Steve looks back at you with an apologetic smile.

"No, no please come in," you urge the two of them forwards with a wave of your fork, "it's been a quiet day, I would love some company."

"Well it does smell lovely in here," Steve smiles broadly and steps inside, immediately striding over to you by the dinner table while Bucky silently follows him.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve mutters happily and kisses the top of your head, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

"Hi Stevie," you lean into him and send Bucky what you hope is a disarming smile from over Steve's shoulder as he sits down at the far end of the table. He looks as if he'd rather be lying under a rock.

"I didn't want to impose on your big reunion," you explain, "I thought you guys needed some well-deserved time to reconcile."

Steve sends you a grateful look and starts emptying the fridge of vegetables.

"So what've you been up to today?" you ask as he pulls out a bag of chopped kale and a sad looking winter squash.

"Uhm, not much," Steve eyes the squash suspiciously. "Went for a run earlier, showed Buck around the gym. Had my ass handed to me in the ring, didn't I?" He laughs and looks over at Bucky who's sitting quietly between you like a polite child.

"I - I don't know about that," Bucky says uncomfortably and darts his eyes over to you, checking for your reaction.

You remember feeling like that; scared that others would be afraid of you if you showed them exactly what you were capable off. It makes your stomach ache.

"Come on Buck, you beat the living shit out of me," Steve laughs unknowingly and it makes Bucky's ears turn red and his mouth reduce to a thin white line.

"I hear you're skilled with a switchblade," you speak directly to Bucky, wanting to show him that you're neither afraid of him nor his capabilities. "I could use some pointers for close combat if you have any," you try to shrug as nonchalantly as humanly possible. "I usually spar with Sam or Steve but they're both terrible with knives!"

"It's true," Steve grins. "You're a better match for her, Buck."

Bucky's eyes dart between you and Steve but he doesn't reply.

"Say the word, and I'm yours for an afternoon, James," you smile.

Bucky grunts and uncomfortably slinks back in his chair.

Day 24

There's a strong burning sensation in your eyelids as you blink for the first time in what feels like hours and you turn your head to the side, only to realise the clock is up by a mere three minutes.

4:42

It's mocking you. Red digits staring at you in the dark, reminding you that you have exactly two hours and eighteen minutes before you have to be dressed for your weekly sparring match with Sam. You give out an involuntary groan at the thought and try placing yourself differently on the mattress although it feels like you've tried out every possible position already.

It's the third night in a row you haven't closed a single eye, and it's starting to drive you crazy! It's not as if you really have a job where you can afford an off day. Off days usually results in getting badly injured - or in worst cases; killed.

With yet another annoyed groan, you sit up straight on the mattress. 4:44.

"That's it," you mumble under your breath and swing your legs over the side of the bed frame, grabbing your wollen socks and your book in the process as you determinedly decide that you're not gonna waste the next few hours fretting over missing sleep.

The entire first floor is completely dark as you walk the empty hallway, so when you enter the living room, you're surprised to find another person already occupying the room.

"James?"

He's sitting in the big winged chair, his hair unruly, shoulders slumped, dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't even look up to greet you but keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of him as he gives out a tired grunt in response. The skin underneath his eyes is irritated and spotted, and you think to yourself that it looks like he's been crying. A lot.

"Are you okay?" You ask and he blinks a few times at the question but still doesn't look up.

"M'fine."

He looks awful and you cannot help but think to yourself that Steve definitely doesn't know about this. That if he did, he'd be sitting right here beside the man he's been missing like a piece of himself.

"How long have you been up?"

Bucky's eyes flicker to the clock above the door. "A while," he grunts and you get the immediate feeling that maybe he's never even gone to bed.

"Hmm," you nod, not sure what else to say. "Come, I'll make us coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"Well come anyway," you urge him.

His eyes meet yours for the first time and you guess he's considering how to gently turn you down, but after af couple of contemplative seconds, he finally sighs as he pushes himself up from the chair and reluctantly follows you. Even though he pulls the bill of his cap down towards his eyes, it feels like a victory. Thank god for his impeccable manners or he probably would've turned around and left altogether.

He sits down on the bar stool at the kitchen island and you pour both of you a mug of instant coffee.

Normally, he seems to thrive in silence but you've never seen him look more uncomfortable, so you decide on breaking the ice.

Carefully, you clear your throat and his eyes immediately dart towards you. He already looks sick of the question you haven't even asked him yet, but still, you continue.

"You're on the ninth floor, right? Next to Sam."

He nods.

"Have you settled in nicely?"

"Mhm," he grunts.

"I live on the floor below. Sandwiched between Steve and Nat."

"Okay," he nods, probably wondering why you won't just leave him alone.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," he hesitates and sighs in slight annoyance when he realises that his short answers aren't going to keep you from yapping away. "People here are nice. I guess," he gives in with a shrug.

You chuckle and watch as he takes a sip of the coffee and scrunches up his nose, looking at the coffee as if it's offended him.

"I don't know if you know this-" you say as you finally look away from him now that you have a reason to continue the conversation, "- but I'm actually quite new to the compound too. I've only been here about six months."

"Steve told me," Bucky nods and tries to hide that his fleeting eyes are studying your every movement. "He talks a lot about you."

It makes you smile. "He talks a lot about you too."

Bucky follows the movement of your fingers as they tap the rim of the mug in front of you but doesn't say anything.

Entertained by how he studies you, you slowly bring the cup to your lips. "Where is Steve?" You ask him and take a sip.

Bucky's eyes briefly catch yours again and a thin line immediately appears between his dark eyebrows. "In bed," he grunts, "- why?"

"Does he know you're-"

"He's not my babysitter," he cuts you off pointedly.

"I know," you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I was just wondering if he knows you're not sleeping. There are remedies for insomnia these days, you know."

His eyes seem to stare straight through to your soul. "Like coffee?" he grunts, challenging you.

It makes you chuckle. "Touché!"

The muscles on his forehead seem to relax a little now that he's figured out you can take a joke. "No, he doesn't know," he mumbles and looks away. "He has enough to deal with being Captain America and all. I don't want to burden him more than I already have."

"I see," you nod and go back to your coffee, thinking to yourself that Bucky might no longer be the great charmer Steve's told you stories about, but he's definitely a good man. Perhaps with some humour in there if you dig deep enough.

"Are you going to tell him?" He asks with slate blue eyes coming back up to stare right through you once more. He's challenging you again.

"Don't see why I would," you shrug. You want to show him that you can be trusted. That he doesn't have to rely on Steve alone.

He stares at you intensely a couple of seconds before his face fades back to neutral, but you see the way the tension of his shoulders eases just a fraction. Finally, he's disarmed.

"How do you like the coffee?" You ask, pleased to see that you've passed his tests.

His probing eyes direct the attention to the Falcon mug in front of him. "It tastes like ass," he grunts sincerely and stares disprovingly at the mug.

It makes you laugh.

Day 25

It's 5:23 when you hear dragging feet shuffling in the hallway. They stop right outside the kitchen door but nobody enters.

You know who it is, and you know he's currently contemplating going back to his quarters so he doesn't have to talk to you, but you decide on ruining his plan.

"You can come in," you say cheerily but the door stays immobile for a second or two before a heavy sigh sounds and he gently pushes it open.

Once again, you're thankful for his impeccable manners.

"Good morning," you say cheerily and turn off the heat to the pot on the stove.

"Mornin'," he mumbles while giving off an aura of slight annoyance, but you catch the brief interested look he shoots the eggs sizzling in front of you.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask as you plate your breakfast and sit down opposite him.

"I didn't."

"Me neither," you muse. "Are you hungry?" You ask him altough you know he is. He didn't show up for team dinner last night.

His eyes dart from yours, down to the shakshuka between you and back up again. He gives you a curt shake of his head but his stomach gives him away by growling.

"Come," you smile and hand him an extra fork, "we'll share mine."

He hesitates.

"- come on, I can tell you’re hungry."

"I’ll wait for Steve," he mumbles, "I don't want to ruin your breakfast."

"What are you talking about? I was lonely until you joined me," you push your plate towards him. "Let me do something nice for you in return."

He looks at you perplexed as if he isn't sure how to respond to your kindness. Slowly, he casts his eyes downwards so they scan the red sauce and eggs between you instead. "I don't know what it is."

"Try some," you offer him a reassuring smile.

You cannot decide whether he looks more curious or annoyed. "Okay. Thank you," he mumbles quietly and takes a small amount of sauce and eggs on his fork, carefully inserting it in his mouth. "It's spicy!" He furrows his brows and looks at you as if you've just tried to poison him, and before you can even react, his eyes widen. "Jesus FUCK!" He coughs.

You have to hold back a splutter of laughter at his sudden cursing. "Sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

He takes a gulp of water. "Fuck me!"

You chuckle, "Are you okay?"

He sucks in some air and waves his hand dismissively between you.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry," you full on laugh and catch his desperate eye as he takes another big gulp of water, "I always make it too spicy for Steve too."

"Shit," he wheezes and looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you grin with tears in your own eyes, "I can make you something else."

"No, I like it," he continues coughing a little, "- I think."

"You think?" You laugh.

"I just didn't even know food could taste like this," he purses his lips and suck in some cooling air while eyeing the shakshuka between you. "For the past seventy years, I've only had stew and potatoes."

"Mmh," you sigh with a suddenly serious frown, and for a second, Bucky looks as if he's scared he's said something god-awful wrong but you interrupt him before his mind starts to wander. "Sorry - it's just: I remember that all too well. Eating the same thing over and over again. Personally, I haven't touched beets since I escaped."

He freezes slightly in his chair "...Escaped?"

You nod, "yeah. I was trained under the Soviet Armed Forces."

Bucky's gaze tells you that he's well-aware of the things you must've endured. "...Oh," he puts down the fork he's been holding.

"Yeah. Thank god I knew Natasha or I would probably still be stuck in Moscow."

"Hmm," he furrows his eyebrows. "I was told stories about Operation Red Room back when I was..." he clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and you refrain from telling him that you heard stories about him too. That from a young age, you'd been told that the Winter Soldier would come in the night if you didn't practise your ballet. "- You were... brainwashed too?" His eyes find yours.

You nod slowly. It seems you've finally found common ground.

He furrows his brows. "But you're normal?" he states matter-of-factly and immediately looks embarrassed by himself.

You smile at his expression. "Just as normal as you I guess."

Bucky's mouth twitches a little as he offers you the first hint of a smile you've ever seen on his face. It's hesitant, but it's there. And it lingers when he goes in for a second bite of your breakfast.

Day 30

Last night at dinner, Steve had told you that Bucky was having one of his more 'gloomier weeks' (his words) and that he would neither leave the bed nor have anything to eat no matter how much Steve tried to coax him.

Of course you haven't mentioned to anybody that you've shared your breakfast with Bucky every early morning for the past week, getting a chance to talk to him before he sneaks back to his room as the rest of the compound starts waking up, so when his pale cheeks suddenly appear behind Steve's back not even 30 minutes after you've wished him a good day, you try not to make too much of a fuss about it.

"Mornin' guys," you smile at them from over your coffee cup. They're both dressed in running gear with a huge Captain America logo on the front and you smile a little at how Bucky looks like he's about to hurl himself off of the nearest cliff. Your eyes meet his as he unsuccessfully tries to smooth back his long hair. "- Doing anything fun?"

"Thought we'd take some laps around the lake, didn't we Buck?" Steve smiles and pushes Bucky forwards so they're at the same level.

Bucky merely grunts, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"Sounds lovely," you sip your coffee, happy that you haven't come up with the same insane idea.

"Yeah, it's the first day of spring and the sun is finally out!" Steve sighs lovingly while Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly annoyed by Steve's peppy morning routine. "-Wanna join?"

"Oh absolutely not," you splutter with a laugh. "This is your insane idea. Don't drag me into it."

It makes Bucky's upper lip twitch familiarly as he tries smoothing back his long hair again.

"Big Captain America fan?" You joke as you nod towards the giant star on Bucky's chest.

Luckily, he doesn't miss a beat and picks it up immediately; "not really," he says in a sour tone of voice, "I'm only wearing this because they were all out of Iron Man shirts."

It makes both you and Steve laugh and Bucky sweeps back his hair again, for a brief moment looking proud of himself.

You're still grinning as you lock eyes with him and hand him the hairtie from around your wrist. "Here," you say as you wobble it in the air between you "to keep your hair out of your eyes."

Bucky hesitates as he looks between you and the black elastic band.

"It's a game changer, trust me," you grin and once again urges him to take it.

He's still hesitating when he takes a step forwards and grabs it from your hand, slowly tying the smallest ponytail you've ever seen at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, James," you smile at him and he briefly smiles back before his expression fades to neutral again.

With pink cheeks, he looks at you while nervously shifting his weight around on his feet. "You can... call me Bucky if you'd like."

You smile at him and he carefully returns your smile. He's actually quite cute. "Okay Bucky," you nod, "I'd like that."

Steve looks as if he might burst from joy.

Day 34

Four days later, Bucky sits down next to you on the sofa. It's the first time during the day he isn't following Steve around like a dark shadow and it really suits him to be this independant.

"Hello," he says carefully.

"Hey Buck, what's up," you greet him and put down your book.

"I was thinking," he starts off slowly while fidgeting with the metal plates of his left hand. "If maybe you'd wanna show me one of those movies you were talking about at dinner the other night?"

"Yeah," you immediately grin and have to hide your excitement of finally having him seek you out voluntarily. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, already much more relaxed. "I don't really know any movies apart from Bambi and I doubt that's still a hit."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh and turn on the Netflix app, ready to show him your favourite movie. "Get cozy," you throw him a blanket, "I know exactly where to start."

He nods and carefully unfolds the blanket as he directs his attention to the title on the movie displayed on the screen. There's something heartwarming about seeing the world's most deadly assassin wrapped in plaid, sitting stiff as a trunk with his hands folded neatly in his lap, but you make sure not to look too obvious as you smile widely.

As the movie plays, you carefully watch his reactions to make sure he's thoroughly entertained, but even though he doesn't laugh at the funny parts, he still assures you that he liked it when the movie ends.

"You don't have to say that if you don't mean it."

"Okay," he chuckles so beautifully your stomach lurches forwards, "- maybe I would have liked to change some things around, but overall, I liked it."

"Okay, good," you smile.

"Maybe you can show me all your favourite movies?" He tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"I'd like that, Buck"

Day 37

"Hey sweetheart, I have a favour to ask you," Steve says when he catches you coming back from the bathroom during a movie break. He's dressed in tactical gear from head to toe, carrying his shield on his back and talking in his serious, low voice as he pulls you to the side so no one can hear the two of you. "I have to go with Tony to Boston for a few days. It's an emergency," he sighs, "do you think you could keep an eye on Bucky until I get back? Make sure he gets something to eat, that he comes out of his room. Stuff like that."

You look over Steve's shoulder and see Bucky sitting on the sofa, looking at you curiously from over the back. You feel a pang in your heart when you see his anxious face, and you almost get offended on his behalf. Over the last few days, he's really been showing progression. "I don't mind keeping him company," you turn your attention back to Steve, "but don't you think he deserves a little more credit?"

"I know, it's just -" Steve winces, "- I'm still a bit worried about him and it would really ease my mind to know you'll help out. Please, I have to leave in a bit."

"Just go. Don't worry, we'll have fun."

"You're the best," he grabs your hands and kisses your knuckles. "Thank you," he says and adjusts the strap over his shoulder before he waves at Bucky and heads out the door.

When you sit back down on the sofa again, Bucky's weirdly distant.

"What did Steve want?" he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You turn your gaze towards him, scan his face and feel the same pang in your heart as before. "Honestly?" You sigh, "he wants me to keep an eye on you."

The colour in Bucky's cheeks drains so he becomes more pale than you've ever seen him. "So now you're babysitting me too?"

"Nope," you say unceremoniously and press play on the remote. "I told him to fuck off."

He smiles at that.

Day 39

It's almost midnight and you and Bucky are sitting outside on lawn chairs with cups of steaming hot tea cradled in your hands as you quietly look up at the stars above you. Normally, you like talking and could do so for hours, but lately, you've come to enjoy the quiet hours in Bucky's company too.

You give out a content sigh and briefly turn your gaze towards him as he studies the constellations above you.

Even though the March air is so cold you've put on several layers of wool just to be able to sit outside, he's only wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, his thick bicep bulging nicely against the black hem. You wonder what he might look like with his shirt off.

"You're staring," he mumbles, a cloud of vapour escaping him as he breathes against the chilly air.

"Sorry," you chuckle and look away, slightly embarrassed by your unsolicited staring. "I just can't really believe you're not cold."

"Serum," he mutters matter-of-factly.

"Wish I had some of that," you sigh and snuggle further down into your scarf.

"Trust me, you really don't."

"Why not?"

"You ever been over-stimulated? It's like that."

"Mmh," you nod. "All the time?"

"Pretty much."

"What does it feel like?"

He shrugs, "neurons firing. Like everything's dialed up to eleven. Summers are unbearable. Loud noises even more so. Annoying people become three times as annoying," he shoots you an amused side-eye and you can tell he's about to make a joke. "Just imagine what I go through with Sam."

"Eat a bag of dicks, Wilson," you repeat the words you heard Bucky mutter the other day when it was suggested that he switch out a protein bar for a can of tuna.

He smiles at you. "You heard that, huh?"

"Just because Sam chose to ignore you, doesn't mean the rest of us didn't hear you being crass."

"Sorry," he grins.

"I can take it."

"I know you can," he arches an eyebrow, about to say something, but is cut off by a sudden loud bang from above that has both of you look upwards.

"Ooh!" You immediately exclaim with enthusiasm as you follow the illumination of colours above. "Fireworks!" You lean into him, excitement quickly slipping from your face, however, when you notice the state he's in.

He's sitting as if petrified; stiff, glossy eyed, panting. His chest is heaving in shallow breaths and he stares at you with desperation.

"Bucky!" You cry out and immediately grab his pale cheeks, holding his face close to yours.

"Can't. Breathe," he's gulping for air, hands desperately clinging to your elbows.

"Look at me," you say and slowly heave in some air, trying hard to get him to match your breathing. "Focus on me," you exhale slowly.

His eyes flitters across your face but it works. He has his breathing under control within three deep breaths but then another loud bang sounds and he flinches.

"Come," you grab his hand and drag him inside to safety while he pants and whines behind you.

With the door kicked shut and your hands immediately on his cheeks again, you quietly remind him where he is. "You're safe, Bucky. It's just fireworks. You're safe here with me."

He clutches his heart as he slides down the wall behind him.

And when you hug him tightly, and over and over again remind him that he's safe, he slumps down against your shoulder and cries into your neck, holding onto you for dear life.

Day 40

Although he's been around you all day, Bucky hasn't uttered a single word directly to you since the panic attack the night before, so when he suddenly breaks the thick silence between you with a loud clearing of his throat, you immediately listen.

"Steve wants us to be friends," he says bluntly and completely out of context.

You look up from your book. "What?" You furrow your eyebrows. "- you don't think we're friends?"

"I - I don't know," he bites his inner cheek and finally looks at you for real, "I wasn't sure after the... you know."

"That changed nothing for me," you try to shrug nonchalantly although you want to shake him to make him understand. "You just panicked, Buck."

"Well who the fuck panics at fireworks?" he mumbles and looks awat, "you must think I'm fucking mental."

"Definitely not," you smile with a shake of your head. "I just think you have some invisible scars. That doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Mhh," he grunts without fully accepting your words. "I'm not sure I deserve your friendship," his mouth pulls to the side disapprovingly.

"You do," you put your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent. It's earthy and fresh; orange and cedar wood.

"So you don't think I'm.... off?" He asks quietly, lips close to your scalp. You can almost feel them vibrating.

"No, Buck," you smile with closed eyes, enjoying the close proximity. "I don't think you're off," you breathe in. Orange. Cedar wood. "Quite on the contrary. I like spending time with you."

He nods slowly while contemplating your words. "I - uh - I like spending time with you too."

"That makes me very happy to hear," you smile into his shoulder. "So you agree? We're friends?"

"Yeah," he nods and puts his chin on top of your head. "We can be friends."

Day 42

Steve's back from Boston with an injury.

"He took a blade to the glute so now he can't even walk," Bucky explains after coming back from visiting him in the med wing. "He says it's his hip but I just know it's because he's too decent to say ass in front of doctor Cho."

"Poor Steve," you wince while chuckling slightly at Bucky.

"Yeah... Even with the serum's recovery time, he figures he'll be out for the rest of the month."

"Well," you smile, "at least that means you finally found a legit way out of going on morning runs with him," you muse as you measure a cup of water for the dinner you're making the two of you.

"Yeah, thank fuck for that!" He agrees in relief, "I cannot listen to one more word about how much he loves bird song in the morning."

"God he's so old!" you laugh and switch your voice over in your best imitation of Steve, "Oh look over there, Bucky! A blue crested warbler!"

It's not even that funny but the voice you're making has Bucky laughing!

It's the first time since you first met him and, oh my god, if it isn't the most beautiful sound you've ever heard! The skin around his eyes crinkle softly, his head tilts backwards and he gives out a 'ha!' so loud you can see the back of his teeth.

You want to freeze this moment in time. To make him laugh at your stupid joke for an eternity while your stomach flips in slow motion.

Your own reaction to it perplexes you so much that the cup you're holding overflows.

Day 43

You've barely entered the gym before Bucky's let go of the bar he's doing pull ups in and has approached you to ask if you'll be his sparring partner for the day instead of Steve.

"Hip still a bust?"

Bucky nods and throws his grips to the ground. "What do you say?" He pants and wipes a drop of sweat from his temple. "We're both out of a partner. Might as well use each other as punch bags."

"Are you sure?" You arch an eyebrow while trying to ignore the sudden dryness of your inner cheek. "I mean; you look pretty beat already. How long have you been down here?"

"Couple of hours," he shrugs, "since breakfast."

"Since breakfast?"

Bucky shrugs again. "You were out."

"So you resorted to training for five plus hours because you were bored? I'm flattered Barnes."

He grins.

"- but yeah, sure, I guess I have time to throw you around for a bit," you wink at him and he grins again. It makes you feel warm. "But be warned, I might not be as good with a knife as you are but I'm faster than Steve and sneakier than Sam."

"So you say," he smiles and ties the small pony tail at the nape of his neck.

"Cute hair," you chuckle at him while you grab your makeshift dagger from your gym bag.

"A-har-har," he says sarcastically, "don't forget whose hairtie I'm wearing."

Day 46

He's sitting shirtless beside you, still panting from your daily sparring match, and you're trying your absolute hardest not to stare at the intricate scars that zigzag across his torso and comes to a blazingly red halt where flesh meets metal.

Over the last couple of sparring matches, you've thought to yourself more than once that he looks absolutely beautiful in all his scarred beauty.

"I talked to Steve this morning," he cuts the silence, thankfully giving you something else to think of other than tracing the red lines of his chiseled chest. "He's ready to start training again."

"Yeah?" you try and read his neutral expression. "Looks like morning laps around the lake are back on the menu for you then," you wink at him.

"Well at least I had eleven amazing days without bird watching," he jokes.

"I know you secretly love it," you smile, "- Okay, maybe not the bird-watching bit but the running at least."

"Yeah, it's fine," he leans forwards, puts his weight on his elbows an shoots you a glance. "So, what do you wanna do about us?"

Your stomach flips at the way he pronounces us. Like you're a unit.

Your voice suddenly seems raw. "What do you mean?" you smack your lips to bring them back to life.

It has Bucky follow your mouth intendedly.  "I mean, I guess you don't have to keep sparring with me now that Steve's back on the roster," he says, "I like sparring with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that -"

"Don't worry," you cut him off, relieved that you still have an excuse to be in this close proximity with him. "I like sparring with you too."

He smiles jokingly at you. "Even though I always win?"

"Even though you're always lucky," you chuckle, "and lets be honest, it's only because you fight dirty."

He sends you a puzzling look.

"As if taking off your shirt isn't a trick to get me weak in the knees!"

He gives you the loud 'ha!' you've been awarded with only a handful of times. It makes your stomach all warm and in the heat of the moment, you get the sudden urge to press your lips to his skin. To see if he tastes as good as he smells and feels and looks.

"Alright," he rolls his eyes and stands up from the bench with a groan that have your knees feel like rubber. "Come on, let's get back to me kicking your ass."

You look sceptically at the hand he's stretching out before you. "Will you be putting on your shirt to give me a fair chance?"

"No fucking way," he winks at you.

You flip him off.

Thankfully, it has him laughing again as he pulls you to your feet.

Day 49

"Sweetheart!" Steve exclaims excitedly as him and Bucky enter the living room at lunch time. "I haven't seen you in days!" He immediately strides around the table and hugs you while giving your cheek a brief kiss.

"Hey guys!" You smile at them and then turn towards Steve; "how's your butt?"

He shoots you a tired smile and you can tell from his face that's Bucky's already been giving him hell about his injury. "Butt's fine," he sighs and changes course. "How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Not much," you shrug, refraining from telling Steve that you've been spending almost every waking hour in Bucky's company.

"I hear you're kicking Bucky's ass," Steve chuckles.

"Well, he's a liar," you wink at Bucky who in return sends you the boyish smile that you love. "- He beats me at everything from shooting to stabbing. It's annoying."

"Don't listen to her, Stevie," Bucky protests with a smile as he crosses his bulky arms over his chest. God, you want to touch him! "She's doing fucking amazing."

"You know what?" you turn to Steve, "for someone so foul-mouthed, he's actually strangely polite!"

Steve laughs, "if you think that's bad, you should hear him when you're not around," he blows out a little air, "yikes!"

It has Bucky roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he chuckles, "lets not make it worse than it is."

"Come on Buck, you'd never use that kind of language in front of a beautiful dame," Steve grins.

"A beautiful dame?" you snicker at the old fashioned term. "Did you seriously just call me that?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckles and bumps his elbow against yours, "of course I think you're a beautiful dame."

"Gee thanks Steve," you grin, "that doesn't make me feel like a grandma at all," you look to Bucky for confirmation, but he awkwardly looks away.

Day 50

You and Bucky are watching the newest blockbuster on Netflix and have just arrived at the part where the final stand between the lead and the villain takes place, when in the middle of the tenacious battle, Bucky decides to talk.

"Is Steve your boyfriend?" He asks suddenly while following the burning helicopter debris on the screen in front of him.

You have a feeling that it's a question that's been nagging him since yesterday, but that he suddenly couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Steve?" You look over at him, a little perplexed. His eyes are glued to the screen in front of him and you're having a hard time figuring out if he's just embarrassed by the slightly prying question or if there's more to it. "- Why'd you think that?"

Bucky's face turns almost crimson. "I don't know," he says while pursing his lips but you have a strong feeling he knows exactly why. "You seem... cosy," he shrugs. There's a different tone behind the last word as if he had to struggle to even get it past his lips.

"We're just friends, Buck."

He stares ahead, body as tense as the first day you met him. "He thinks you're beautiful," he mumbles uncomfortably though he tries to hide it by feigning nonchalance. "And he's always kissing your face..."

"You should really ask Steve about that," you smile, "but no, there's nothing between us. Promise." You want to tell him that you only have eyes for him. That you want him to kiss you.

He gulps and flitters his gaze across your face, studies every angle while you follow his blue irises. Your stomach lurches, it's definitely the most intimate moment you've ever shared and you can feel the electricity between you.

 "Just for the record," he says quietly, "I think you're really pretty too."

Your throat tightens. It's suddenly hard to breathe. And before you've had a chance to react to his words, to take his lips between yours, he looks back at the screen and tightens his jaw.

You bet he's thinking of how much smoother this used to go.

Day 51

"Sooo," Sam sings as he playfully plumps down on the sofa next to you, "spill the tea!"

"...About?"

"Rumour has it that you and Bucky have the hots for each other." He pumps his eyebrows annoyingly. "Has he smooched you yet?"

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Because no, Bucky is taking things a little too slow for your liking and he hasn't smooched you yet though it's all you can think about when you're with him. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

He takes your bad attempt at dodging his question as confirmation. "Lucky guy!" He laughs, "seventy years on ice - God knows he must be excited to finally get a little sugar!"

You want to punch Sam.

Day 52

You've already gone to bed when there's a knock on your door.

"It's me," Bucky mumbles from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" You sit up straight and briefly fiddle with your pyjamas front even though you can tell by your bedside mirror that it looks fine.

He peers in from behind the door and you feel the familiar embers come to live inside of you when he shoots you an amused smile. "Nice PJ's," he cackles and and steps inside.

He looks amazing dressed from head to toe in his tactical suit complete with thigh strap and makeshift sniper rifle attached to his back.

"You're in your most comfortable outfit too, I can see," you grin and nod towards the grenade launcher he's holding. "What are you all dressed up for, sergeant Barnes?" 

He gives you a crooked smile at the old familiar name. "It's Tuesday," he brazenly waves the launcher in front of his face as if you're supposed to know what that means.

"Which means we have to sacrifice someone?" You joke.

"Steve and I usually do Tactical Tuesdays in our combat gear. But apparently, his ass is still sore," he grins and you can tell he has to hold back a laugh, "I - uh - I was wondering if you'd wanna come with me instead? Sorry, didn't realise how late it was."

"I'll come!" You say excitedly before he's even had the chance to finish his sentence. "Give me two seconds," you grab your tactical suit and bag of knives, quickly changing in the bathroom while Bucky patiently waits for you.

When you re-enter your quarters, knifes neatly arranged in the belt strapped around your waist and all, Bucky briefly forgets all about his manners and runs his eyes down your full length. You know you look good in the skin-tight suit, but even though you'd picked the all-black outfit for his pleasure, you're still surprised to have him so discomposed before you.

You clear your throat so his slate blue eyes snap back up to meet yours and he realises he's been caught red-handed. "Get a good look?" You smile at him.

"Fuck off," he grins with pink cheeks and turns his gaze away and opens the door for you. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you excitedly step past him and into the hallway, feeling his gaze burn on your backside.

"Okay I have to ask" you say as the elevator zooms towards the gym on the ground floor. "Is it really necessary with four guns? What are you compensating for?"

He smirks. "Says the woman who brought six knives."

"Touché," you laugh, "but if I know you correctly, you also have a few daggers tugged under your belt."

He smiles knowingly.

"How much do you reckon it takes to take me down when I'm in my tac suit?" You ask him, bemused. "Four guns and two daggers?"

He looks at you with an arched eyebrow.

"- And lets not forget about the grenade launcher," you chuckle as the elevator doors ping open. "Super handy for close combat."

"I'm just putting it in my locker," he rolls his eyes at you as he holds open the door to the gym. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh I would never," you grin and watch his broad backside as he dumps the launcher on the top shelf of his locker, picking up his switchblade instead. "What?" He chuckles when he turns around and sees your cocked eyebrows, "it's my weapon of choice."

"You are so only bringing that because you know I love your little knife flip."

He shakes his head with a grin as he leans down to tighten the laces of his right boot.

Just to have something other to do than stare at his muscular form, you adjust the white sportstape wrapped around your knuckles. You cannot wait for training to begin so you have something else to focus on.

"Okay," he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, tying the small pony tail that, in the time since you've come to know him, has turned into a bun. "Ready?"

"Come at me Barnes," you smile while taking on your fighting stance, parrying your face with your taped up fists.

He smiles at you briefly before he surprise-lunges forwards, ready to sweep you off your feet, but you know he fights aggressively and has seen it coming from miles away. Skilfully, you jump as high as you can, swinging your knee over his neck so you're sitting on top of his shoulders.

He crouches over before you've had a chance to yank his collar, makes you do a somersault over his head and throws you down on your back, immediately pressing his dull practise switchblade against your throat.

"Fuck!" You admit defeat.

"That's got to be a new record," he grins, "10 seconds."

"Dammit!"

"Come on," he offers you his hand and pull you to your feet, "let's go again."

"Alright," you take on your stance once more and try to read him, "you got lucky this time."

"Sure," he says and grins while skilfully swinging his switchblade so it swooshes in the air between you.

"Show off," you stick out your tongue and take advantage of his momentary grinning as you run towards him, slip down to your knees and slide between his legs, plunging your little white plastic dagger into his right calf so the blade disappears into the handle.

"Right side injury," you yell to make him simulate that he's hurt and kick his left leg in the hope that he will fall down.

But even off balance, he's sturdier than you think and keeps his stance, so you jump to your feet and charge at him again, this time jumping him on his front, forgetting that he has a vibranium arm as you try and injure his left shoulder.

"Shit!" You say through gritted teeth at the sound of metal clanging against metal.

He takes advantage of the added weight to his front and falls forward on purpose so you land on your back, knocking the wind out of you in the process.

He lands on his knees between your legs, and even though you have your ankles wrapped around his waist and your plastic knife inside his arm pit, his fake gun is out of its holster, and he's pointing it straight at your heart.

"Got you," he's panting hard as he studies your face, moving his torso a little closer to you, and you get the sudden feeling he's about to lean in and finally kiss you, so you tighten the grip your legs have around his waist, silently telling him to come closer. But he looks away and re-holsters his gun.

"That was better," he admits and stands up, holding out his hand for you to take. "Nice detail with the surprise kick."

With disappointment pooling in your stomach, you let him pull you up from the floor. "Mhm," you grunt. "And it would've worked too if it wasn't for your stupidly large feet."

"Sorry," he smiles, "Kick harder next time. Bust my fucking ankle" he winks at you.

"I'll bust your balls," you mutter, analysing the way he distributes his weight to predict how he'll move.

He laughs, "I love when you talk dirty to me!" He flips the daggers he's holding in each hand.

"God, you're so cocky right now!"

He grunts and readies himself for your attack, "I'll fucking show you."

Which he does. Two times more.

"Again!" You grunt in annoyance.

"How much more can you take?" He chuckles as you get in position for the fifth time.

"More," you parry your face again.

"Alright alright," he wipes his forehead on his wrist, "just gimme a second. I'm sweating balls."

"Don't you dare take off your shirt just to throw me off!"

"I would never!" he grins and grabs the neck of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, revealing glistening pecs and that small trail of hair that you've dreamt of licking.

"You're fucking infuriating, Barnes," you say while charging straight at his dumb smile, but he grabs you around the waist before you've even had the chance to react and throws you to the ground, unstrapping your knife belt in the process so you only have a single dagger left to defend yourself with.

He throws himself on top of you, pins your wrists over your head and incapacitates you by pressing his chest down on your lungs.

"Fuck!"

"Five seconds this time," he smirks. "You're slipping. Should've stayed in bed, huh?"

"Did your mom ever tell you how fucking annoying you are?" you wriggle to get loose but he merely tightens his grip. "Can't you just let me win once?"

"Can't help it. I love when you turn all aggressive."

"What happened to all the gentleman-crap you and Steve always advocate?"

"It went out the door when you starting cursing at me," he grins and pulls on your wrists so you stretch your shoulders with a small groan.

"Careful Barnes or I'm not gonna want to play with you anymore," you do another small wriggle to break free.

"I have a hard time believing that," he says and with a grin turns his gaze down the length of your neck again, fixes his eyes on your panting chest.

The electricity you've felt between you as of late swells and grows, settles in your chest cavity at the way his weight feels between your legs, his handsome face mere inches from yours. Voltage in your joined skin.

You study his every move as he briefly licks his lips and look back at you.

With your eyes locked on his, he gulps, suddenly uncomfortable. Neither of you say anything but the look he sends you speak volumes when he settles his gaze on your mouth.

"Bucky," you say tenderly and search his face in the hope that it will finally get him to kiss you, but it does the opposite. Instead, it looks as if he awakens from a trance.

He blinks twice, parts his lips as he carefully examines your expression and then he sends you an apologetic smile as he lets go of your wrists. "Sorry," he says and move away from you, stands up as he avoids your disappointed gaze. "Let's call it a night."

You have a hard time being as nonchalant as he is about the situation he just denied the both of you, and you jump to your feet with annoyance radiating from your entire being. "Hell no!" You protest as you clip on your knife belt again, "I'm not done with you."

"Sweetheart," he sighs pointedly with a raised eyebrow but the new nickname doesn't escape you and it takes the edge of the infuriation you feel.

"Don't sweetheart me," you say and bend down in your hips, balling your taped-up hands into fists. "Get in position. I'm gonna find your weak spot soon enough, Barnes."

"If you say so," he sighs in defeat. "Come on then," he lazily waves you forward and you run straight towards him, copying the manoeuvre from the first round by swinging your knee over his neck.

Again, he tries to throw you off by bending forwards, but this time you're holding on much tighter to him and you stay put. He slashes the plastic switchblade against your arm, yelling out "injury!" while throwing you off his shoulder again when you're not allowed to use your left arm to hold on to him any longer.

Luckily, you land on your feet so you kick his left arm, making the switch blade fly out of his grip and you spin again, this time fuelled by so much frustration towards him, that you kick him straight in the chest with so much force he immediately falls down.

He lands on his back with a thump while you land straddled across his chest, your face close to his, the small plastic dagger in your hand pressed tightly against his Adam's apple.

"Okay," he gulps and opens his palms to signify surrender, "this time, you have me. That kick was ballsy!" he grins boyishly. "Your flexibility always amazes me."

"Told you I'd find your weak spot," you pant with a proud smile on your lips, enjoying having him in his lying like this.

The knife is no longer pressed to his skin but neither of you are doing anything to move out of the position you're in, and when his eyes search your face and he lets out a small inaudible gulp, you lean forwards without thinking, finally claiming his lips in a hungry kiss.

He follows you immediately and it doesn't take long before your tongues are intertwined and his right hand is cradled around your chin.

"Bucky," you whisper against him and stretch out your arms over his head and you slink forwards, dragging your front over his.

"Mmh", he hums against you and sits up so you straddle his waist, presses his pelvis towards yours and kisses you again while he grabs you around the ribcage, scoots you closer to his. "You are my weak spot," he pants and pushes his tongue inside your mouth, lets his arousal grow.

You bury your fingers in his long hair, let him lick your neck while he groans beneath you. "Take off my clothes," you whisper in his ear and lick the shell of it. 

"Ah shit," he whispers against your skin and gives you a brief, wet kiss before he moves his head to get a better look at you. "You are so beautiful," he whispers and goes back to kiss your wanting lips, vibranium fingers slowly pulling down the zipper at the front of your suit, revealing your naked chest to him.

"Fuck me," he gulps when he looks down at the exposed skin between you, "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers and leans forwards, takes your nipple between his lips and kisses you sensually

"I'm crazy about you," you confess in a whisper and throw back your head as his hands become more wanting, his hips suddenly moving in small thrusts. "Fuck me Bucky," you fist his hair and hold him at an arms length while moving your hips to simulate you riding him which has him grunt a few excited times.

He looks at you with pupils blown wide, mouth falling open. "Oh my god, you are so dirty!"

"I want you so bad," you pad his erection through his cargo pants and he shoots back his head in response, the most beautifully sinful look etched on his face. "Take off your pants."

"Yeah," he grins and flips you onto your back, gives you a brief kiss before he stands up, unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants, kicking them and his boots off. He gives a raspy exhale when he sees you sitting on your knees before him, and he groans gutturally when you find the edge of him through his boxers and you trace the massive outline of him with your lips.

He takes a step closer to you, buries his hands in your hair as you kiss the trail of hair from his navel down and lick the muscles giving his torso a distinct V running down beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

"Sweetheart," he groans without looking away, tenderly holding your hair back so he can see your face as you kiss and lick him. "I've been dreaming of this."

"Me too," you trace his head underneath the dark fabric, suck a wet spot at the tip and cup his balls in your hands, letting your index finger slip back to touch his tight perineum.

"Jesus fuck, you are so fucking dirty," He shoots back his head with a groan, eyes suddenly fixating on something above you, but you ignore it.

You're about to pull down the last layer of fabric separating him from your mouth, when he takes a step back. "Hey, hey," he suddenly says in a different tone of voice and he puts his hands on your arm to get you to stop moving, eyes still fixated above you.

"Sweetheart," he looks down at you with a shocked expression as he takes one more step backwards while drying off saliva from the corner of his mouth. "Not here, okay?"

"Why not?"

"There's a camera pointing straight at us." He points over your head and you notice the red dot immediately.

You release the grip you have on him with a sigh. "Tony and his fucking security," you mumble.

He quietly helps you up and pulls on his pants while you zip up the front of your suit so you're decent again.

"So now what?" you grin a little awkwardly and take a step closer to him, hoping that he will suggest one of your bedrooms.

"Come on," he's suddenly serious as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the elevator, silently pointing out the security camera blinking angrily in the corner of the lift as you zoom up to your floor.

"Being cockblocked by a camera really wasn't on my bingo card for this year," you joke.

He smiles a little but you can tell it's forced and it doesn't change the frown he's sporting.

You both get off on your floor and he follows you to your quarters but doesn't follow you inside when you open the door.

"I should go," he furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" You turn around staring at him.

"The footage," he mumbles and his upper lip twitches. "I have to go destroy it."

"We can do so tomorrow," you smile at him and grab him around the waist, kissing his neck to try and coax him into continue where you left off.

"Might be too late then," he whispers.

"Bucky, come on. It's just Tony."

He leans forwards and for a brief moment, you're sure you have him convinced but then he presses his lips to your cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," he says quietly and with that, he's out the door.

His prescense lingers even after he's gone and all you can think about is what would've happened if he'd stayed.

Day 53

You'd listened to him pacing the floor of his quarters above you half the night before deciding on getting up yourself.

He didn't join your around 4 am as he usually does when neither of you are able to sleep, and at 7:30, Steve came down dressed in his running gear alone.

"What's up with Bucky?" He asks while scratching his beard. It's not something you've ever explicitly discussed before but of course he too has noticed how much time you've been spending together outside the ring.

"I don't know," you shrug and turn your attention back to the book you've been pretending to read for two hours straight.

Even with your eyes fixed on the yellowing pages in front of you, you can tell that Steve stops mid-motion. "...Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we did not," you scoff, "we're not children."

"I know. But you're both wearing the same long face, and he's usually occupying that chair - " he points to the bar stool opposite you, "- when he's making up bad excuses to spend more time with you instead of coming out for a run with me."

"I don't know what's up with him, Steve," you say pointedly, "I'm not his girlfriend!"

Steve puts his weight on his elbow and leans close so you can see his expression from the corner of your eyes. "Is that what this is about?" he asks quietly, "You want to be his girlfriend?"

Your cheeks light up and you determinedly fix your gaze on the first word of the page. "I'm not having this conversation with you," you mumble even though you know your cover is made.

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "I've already had it with Bucky."

Finally, your interest is piqued. You shoot Steve a nervous side eye. He's looking at you like a disappointed father. 

"...and?" You ask when he doesn't continue.

"I really don't think this is a conversation you should be having with me."

"Well you started it," you mumble and look back down again, flipping the page of your book even though you haven't read a single word.

Suddenly, Steve stands up straight. "Hey man," he says over your head and you don't have to turn you gaze to know who's just entered the room.

"Hey," you hear Bucky's voice from the doorway before he fully enters the room though he stays close to the exit.

"Right," Steve nods and pads your hand before pressing past Bucky, clapping his shoulder in the process.

Finally alone, Bucky takes two steps closer to you. "Hey, sweetheart," he mumbles quietly, hands buried in his pockets, "can we talk?"

You look up at him, the air between you thick. "Sure," you sigh but cross your arms over your chest.

He takes the bar stool next to you, drums his fingers against the steel kitchen counter, purses his lips. "Last night was -..." he trails off and closes his eyes in frustration when he cannot find the right words.

"Disappointing?" You say and cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he agrees honestly. "It was very disappointing. I'm sorry about that."

He looks sincere but you're not sure how to react. You want to accept his apology - to have him back on your side - but you need an explanation.

"It wasn't because I didn't enjoy it," he quietly continues, "- because trust me, I did," he sends you a pained look and you ease up on the defensive position you're holding yourself in as he carefully grabs your hands, kisses your knuckles tenderly. "I didn't lie when I said that I've been wanting it for quite some time," he looks at your joined hands and your heart cracks at the confession that Steve insinuated. "- been wanting you."

"Then why'd you leave?" You ask quietly.

His gaze crawls up to meet yours. "Truth be told, I got scared."

"Of... us?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. Of that camera."

"The camera?" you tilt your head to the side and search his face, "Honey, it's just Tony. I know there's bad blood between you, but he would never expose any of us."

"I know," he gulps. "It's more what the camera represents. Usually, I'm so aware."

"Of what?"

"Everything," he breathes as if it's a relief to say out loud. "It's like I told you; the serum enhances everything inside of you, dials everything up to fucking eleven. So in terms of combat and targeting enemies it's great, but when I'm with you, I don't feel anything else..."

You furrow your brows. You don't understand.

"Sweetheart... I can tell by the colour of the dust underneath Sam's shoes where he's been taking his latest date. I know when you're on your period just from the way you wash your hair. I know when Nat's talked to her sister last, when Steve's not sleeping - even when Coulson's wife's van needs an oil change. I'm aware of every emergency exit, surveillance measurement and guard change of every building I've entered in the past six months, but that camera last night? Sweetheart, I forgot it was there."

"Buck," You whisper achingly. "That's an awful lot to carry around."

"I know," he mumbles. "Being alert of everything has been my default for so long - a survival mechanism if you will - but last night, you were all I saw. And I got scared when I suddenly realised how easily you've made me put down my guard," he sighs. "That's why I left."

An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, you fiddle with the golden link that runs over the back of his left hand. "I know it scared you but I bet it must've felt good to let go too."

"You have no idea," he breathes out a sigh of relief. "But it's not easy to let go of something that's such an integral part of your way of living. Contemplated what to do all night."

"What did you conclude?" Your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

"That kissing you definitely beats remembering where every security camera in the compound is," he shoots you a careful smile. "Look I know I screwed up, and I know I should've kissed you weeks ago. And I'll probably still get scared of the effect you have on me from time to time," he moves a little, uncomfortable. " - but if you want me, I'm yours."

"If I still want you?" You smile at him, "you're all I want Buck. You know I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm in love with you too."

"I know," you bite your lower lip and search his face.

He moves a little closer to you, snakes his hands around your neck in quiet desperation and finally kisses you.

"Hey," you whisper in-between tender kisses. "Perhaps you wanna show me your room?"

"Yeah," he grins against your lips. "I wanna fucking show you the world."

He's been at the compound almost two weeks now, always following Steve around looking anxious and slightly beside himself as he tries his best to blend in with the wall behind him, flinching if someone comes a little too close or laughs a little too loudly near him. You've all noticed his nervous eyes constantly darting all over his surroundings, clearly checking for the nearest exit to make sure he can escape at just a moment's notice.

You also haven't heard him say much apart from his name when he first arrived and the occasional 'yes' or 'no' when Steve asks him stuff, but you've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you've got your attention directed elsewhere.

You wonder if he's having a hard time adjusting not only to his new home but also to the flourishing friendship between you and Steve, so you give both of them space to find each other again. After all, Steve is important to you, so by proxy, Bucky is too.

Day 19

Three weeks in and you're eating dinner by yourself in the kitchen when you hear footsteps from the hallway. 

"Smells like the kitchen's occupied right now," Steve's soft voice sounds from the other side of the wall before he's even shown himself in the doorframe, "come on, we'll just come back later."

"You can come in, it's okay," you call back over your plate of chicken tikka masala, excited to finally have an excuse to talk to Steve after weeks of almost complete radio-silence.

He pokes his head around the door frame. "You sure? We can wait 30 minutes until you're done - we don't mind, do we Buck?" He looks over his shoulder and you hear Bucky mumble something incoherently before Steve looks back at you with an apologetic smile.

"No, no please come in," you urge the two of them forwards with a wave of your fork, "it's been a quiet day, I would love some company."

"Well it does smell lovely in here," Steve smiles broadly and steps inside, immediately striding over to you by the dinner table while Bucky silently follows him.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve mutters happily and kisses the top of your head, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

"Hi Stevie," you lean into him and send Bucky what you hope is a disarming smile from over Steve's shoulder as he sits down at the far end of the table. He looks as if he'd rather be lying under a rock.

"I didn't want to impose on your big reunion," you explain, "I thought you guys needed some well-deserved time to reconcile."

Steve sends you a grateful look and starts emptying the fridge of vegetables.

"So what've you been up to today?" you ask as he pulls out a bag of chopped kale and a sad looking winter squash.

"Uhm, not much," Steve eyes the squash suspiciously. "Went for a run earlier, showed Buck around the gym. Had my ass handed to me in the ring, didn't I?" He laughs and looks over at Bucky who's sitting quietly between you like a polite child.

"I - I don't know about that," Bucky says uncomfortably and darts his eyes over to you, checking for your reaction.

You remember feeling like that; scared that others would be afraid of you if you showed them exactly what you were capable off. It makes your stomach ache.

"Come on Buck, you beat the living shit out of me," Steve laughs unknowingly and it makes Bucky's ears turn red and his mouth reduce to a thin white line.

"I hear you're skilled with a switchblade," you speak directly to Bucky, wanting to show him that you're neither afraid of him nor his capabilities. "I could use some pointers for close combat if you have any," you try to shrug as nonchalantly as humanly possible. "I usually spar with Sam or Steve but they're both terrible with knives!"

"It's true," Steve grins. "You're a better match for her, Buck."

Bucky's eyes dart between you and Steve but he doesn't reply.

"Say the word, and I'm yours for an afternoon, James," you smile.

Bucky grunts and uncomfortably slinks back in his chair.

Day 24

There's a strong burning sensation in your eyelids as you blink for the first time in what feels like hours and you turn your head to the side, only to realise the clock is up by a mere three minutes.

4:42

It's mocking you. Red digits staring at you in the dark, reminding you that you have exactly two hours and eighteen minutes before you have to be dressed for your weekly sparring match with Sam. You give out an involuntary groan at the thought and try placing yourself differently on the mattress although it feels like you've tried out every possible position already.

It's the third night in a row you haven't closed a single eye, and it's starting to drive you crazy! It's not as if you really have a job where you can afford an off day. Off days usually results in getting badly injured - or in worst cases; killed.

With yet another annoyed groan, you sit up straight on the mattress. 4:44.

"That's it," you mumble under your breath and swing your legs over the side of the bed frame, grabbing your wollen socks and your book in the process as you determinedly decide that you're not gonna waste the next few hours fretting over missing sleep.

The entire first floor is completely dark as you walk the empty hallway, so when you enter the living room, you're surprised to find another person already occupying the room.

"James?"

He's sitting in the big winged chair, his hair unruly, shoulders slumped, dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't even look up to greet you but keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of him as he gives out a tired grunt in response. The skin underneath his eyes is irritated and spotted, and you think to yourself that it looks like he's been crying. A lot.

"Are you okay?" You ask and he blinks a few times at the question but still doesn't look up.

"M'fine."

He looks awful and you cannot help but think to yourself that Steve definitely doesn't know about this. That if he did, he'd be sitting right here beside the man he's been missing like a piece of himself.

"How long have you been up?"

Bucky's eyes flicker to the clock above the door. "A while," he grunts and you get the immediate feeling that maybe he's never even gone to bed.

"Hmm," you nod, not sure what else to say. "Come, I'll make us coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"Well come anyway," you urge him.

His eyes meet yours for the first time and you guess he's considering how to gently turn you down, but after af couple of contemplative seconds, he finally sighs as he pushes himself up from the chair and reluctantly follows you. Even though he pulls the bill of his cap down towards his eyes, it feels like a victory. Thank god for his impeccable manners or he probably would've turned around and left altogether.

He sits down on the bar stool at the kitchen island and you pour both of you a mug of instant coffee.

Normally, he seems to thrive in silence but you've never seen him look more uncomfortable, so you decide on breaking the ice.

Carefully, you clear your throat and his eyes immediately dart towards you. He already looks sick of the question you haven't even asked him yet, but still, you continue.

"You're on the ninth floor, right? Next to Sam."

He nods.

"Have you settled in nicely?"

"Mhm," he grunts.

"I live on the floor below. Sandwiched between Steve and Nat."

"Okay," he nods, probably wondering why you won't just leave him alone.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," he hesitates and sighs in slight annoyance when he realises that his short answers aren't going to keep you from yapping away. "People here are nice. I guess," he gives in with a shrug.

You chuckle and watch as he takes a sip of the coffee and scrunches up his nose, looking at the coffee as if it's offended him.

"I don't know if you know this-" you say as you finally look away from him now that you have a reason to continue the conversation, "- but I'm actually quite new to the compound too. I've only been here about six months."

"Steve told me," Bucky nods and tries to hide that his fleeting eyes are studying your every movement. "He talks a lot about you."

It makes you smile. "He talks a lot about you too."

Bucky follows the movement of your fingers as they tap the rim of the mug in front of you but doesn't say anything.

Entertained by how he studies you, you slowly bring the cup to your lips. "Where is Steve?" You ask him and take a sip.

Bucky's eyes briefly catch yours again and a thin line immediately appears between his dark eyebrows. "In bed," he grunts, "- why?"

"Does he know you're-"

"He's not my babysitter," he cuts you off pointedly.

"I know," you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I was just wondering if he knows you're not sleeping. There are remedies for insomnia these days, you know."

His eyes seem to stare straight through to your soul. "Like coffee?" he grunts, challenging you.

It makes you chuckle. "Touché!"

The muscles on his forehead seem to relax a little now that he's figured out you can take a joke. "No, he doesn't know," he mumbles and looks away. "He has enough to deal with being Captain America and all. I don't want to burden him more than I already have."

"I see," you nod and go back to your coffee, thinking to yourself that Bucky might no longer be the great charmer Steve's told you stories about, but he's definitely a good man. Perhaps with some humour in there if you dig deep enough.

"Are you going to tell him?" He asks with slate blue eyes coming back up to stare right through you once more. He's challenging you again.

"Don't see why I would," you shrug. You want to show him that you can be trusted. That he doesn't have to rely on Steve alone.

He stares at you intensely a couple of seconds before his face fades back to neutral, but you see the way the tension of his shoulders eases just a fraction. Finally, he's disarmed.

"How do you like the coffee?" You ask, pleased to see that you've passed his tests.

His probing eyes direct the attention to the Falcon mug in front of him. "It tastes like ass," he grunts sincerely and stares disprovingly at the mug.

It makes you laugh.

Day 25

It's 5:23 when you hear dragging feet shuffling in the hallway. They stop right outside the kitchen door but nobody enters.

You know who it is, and you know he's currently contemplating going back to his quarters so he doesn't have to talk to you, but you decide on ruining his plan.

"You can come in," you say cheerily but the door stays immobile for a second or two before a heavy sigh sounds and he gently pushes it open.

Once again, you're thankful for his impeccable manners.

"Good morning," you say cheerily and turn off the heat to the pot on the stove.

"Mornin'," he mumbles while giving off an aura of slight annoyance, but you catch the brief interested look he shoots the eggs sizzling in front of you.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask as you plate your breakfast and sit down opposite him.

"I didn't."

"Me neither," you muse. "Are you hungry?" You ask him altough you know he is. He didn't show up for team dinner last night.

His eyes dart from yours, down to the shakshuka between you and back up again. He gives you a curt shake of his head but his stomach gives him away by growling.

"Come," you smile and hand him an extra fork, "we'll share mine."

He hesitates.

"- come on, I can tell you’re hungry."

"I’ll wait for Steve," he mumbles, "I don't want to ruin your breakfast."

"What are you talking about? I was lonely until you joined me," you push your plate towards him. "Let me do something nice for you in return."

He looks at you perplexed as if he isn't sure how to respond to your kindness. Slowly, he casts his eyes downwards so they scan the red sauce and eggs between you instead. "I don't know what it is."

"Try some," you offer him a reassuring smile.

You cannot decide whether he looks more curious or annoyed. "Okay. Thank you," he mumbles quietly and takes a small amount of sauce and eggs on his fork, carefully inserting it in his mouth. "It's spicy!" He furrows his brows and looks at you as if you've just tried to poison him, and before you can even react, his eyes widen. "Jesus FUCK!" He coughs.

You have to hold back a splutter of laughter at his sudden cursing. "Sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

He takes a gulp of water. "Fuck me!"

You chuckle, "Are you okay?"

He sucks in some air and waves his hand dismissively between you.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry," you full on laugh and catch his desperate eye as he takes another big gulp of water, "I always make it too spicy for Steve too."

"Shit," he wheezes and looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you grin with tears in your own eyes, "I can make you something else."

"No, I like it," he continues coughing a little, "- I think."

"You think?" You laugh.

"I just didn't even know food could taste like this," he purses his lips and suck in some cooling air while eyeing the shakshuka between you. "For the past seventy years, I've only had stew and potatoes."

"Mmh," you sigh with a suddenly serious frown, and for a second, Bucky looks as if he's scared he's said something god-awful wrong but you interrupt him before his mind starts to wander. "Sorry - it's just: I remember that all too well. Eating the same thing over and over again. Personally, I haven't touched beets since I escaped."

He freezes slightly in his chair "...Escaped?"

You nod, "yeah. I was trained under the Soviet Armed Forces."

Bucky's gaze tells you that he's well-aware of the things you must've endured. "...Oh," he puts down the fork he's been holding.

"Yeah. Thank god I knew Natasha or I would probably still be stuck in Moscow."

"Hmm," he furrows his eyebrows. "I was told stories about Operation Red Room back when I was..." he clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and you refrain from telling him that you heard stories about him too. That from a young age, you'd been told that the Winter Soldier would come in the night if you didn't practise your ballet. "- You were... brainwashed too?" His eyes find yours.

You nod slowly. It seems you've finally found common ground.

He furrows his brows. "But you're normal?" he states matter-of-factly and immediately looks embarrassed by himself.

You smile at his expression. "Just as normal as you I guess."

Bucky's mouth twitches a little as he offers you the first hint of a smile you've ever seen on his face. It's hesitant, but it's there. And it lingers when he goes in for a second bite of your breakfast.

Day 30

Last night at dinner, Steve had told you that Bucky was having one of his more 'gloomier weeks' (his words) and that he would neither leave the bed nor have anything to eat no matter how much Steve tried to coax him.

Of course you haven't mentioned to anybody that you've shared your breakfast with Bucky every early morning for the past week, getting a chance to talk to him before he sneaks back to his room as the rest of the compound starts waking up, so when his pale cheeks suddenly appear behind Steve's back not even 30 minutes after you've wished him a good day, you try not to make too much of a fuss about it.

"Mornin' guys," you smile at them from over your coffee cup. They're both dressed in running gear with a huge Captain America logo on the front and you smile a little at how Bucky looks like he's about to hurl himself off of the nearest cliff. Your eyes meet his as he unsuccessfully tries to smooth back his long hair. "- Doing anything fun?"

"Thought we'd take some laps around the lake, didn't we Buck?" Steve smiles and pushes Bucky forwards so they're at the same level.

Bucky merely grunts, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"Sounds lovely," you sip your coffee, happy that you haven't come up with the same insane idea.

"Yeah, it's the first day of spring and the sun is finally out!" Steve sighs lovingly while Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly annoyed by Steve's peppy morning routine. "-Wanna join?"

"Oh absolutely not," you splutter with a laugh. "This is your insane idea. Don't drag me into it."

It makes Bucky's upper lip twitch familiarly as he tries smoothing back his long hair again.

"Big Captain America fan?" You joke as you nod towards the giant star on Bucky's chest.

Luckily, he doesn't miss a beat and picks it up immediately; "not really," he says in a sour tone of voice, "I'm only wearing this because they were all out of Iron Man shirts."

It makes both you and Steve laugh and Bucky sweeps back his hair again, for a brief moment looking proud of himself.

You're still grinning as you lock eyes with him and hand him the hairtie from around your wrist. "Here," you say as you wobble it in the air between you "to keep your hair out of your eyes."

Bucky hesitates as he looks between you and the black elastic band.

"It's a game changer, trust me," you grin and once again urges him to take it.

He's still hesitating when he takes a step forwards and grabs it from your hand, slowly tying the smallest ponytail you've ever seen at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, James," you smile at him and he briefly smiles back before his expression fades to neutral again.

With pink cheeks, he looks at you while nervously shifting his weight around on his feet. "You can... call me Bucky if you'd like."

You smile at him and he carefully returns your smile. He's actually quite cute. "Okay Bucky," you nod, "I'd like that."

Steve looks as if he might burst from joy.

Day 34

Four days later, Bucky sits down next to you on the sofa. It's the first time during the day he isn't following Steve around like a dark shadow and it really suits him to be this independant.

"Hello," he says carefully.

"Hey Buck, what's up," you greet him and put down your book.

"I was thinking," he starts off slowly while fidgeting with the metal plates of his left hand. "If maybe you'd wanna show me one of those movies you were talking about at dinner the other night?"

"Yeah," you immediately grin and have to hide your excitement of finally having him seek you out voluntarily. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, already much more relaxed. "I don't really know any movies apart from Bambi and I doubt that's still a hit."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh and turn on the Netflix app, ready to show him your favourite movie. "Get cozy," you throw him a blanket, "I know exactly where to start."

He nods and carefully unfolds the blanket as he directs his attention to the title on the movie displayed on the screen. There's something heartwarming about seeing the world's most deadly assassin wrapped in plaid, sitting stiff as a trunk with his hands folded neatly in his lap, but you make sure not to look too obvious as you smile widely.

As the movie plays, you carefully watch his reactions to make sure he's thoroughly entertained, but even though he doesn't laugh at the funny parts, he still assures you that he liked it when the movie ends.

"You don't have to say that if you don't mean it."

"Okay," he chuckles so beautifully your stomach lurches forwards, "- maybe I would have liked to change some things around, but overall, I liked it."

"Okay, good," you smile.

"Maybe you can show me all your favourite movies?" He tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"I'd like that, Buck"

Day 37

"Hey sweetheart, I have a favour to ask you," Steve says when he catches you coming back from the bathroom during a movie break. He's dressed in tactical gear from head to toe, carrying his shield on his back and talking in his serious, low voice as he pulls you to the side so no one can hear the two of you. "I have to go with Tony to Boston for a few days. It's an emergency," he sighs, "do you think you could keep an eye on Bucky until I get back? Make sure he gets something to eat, that he comes out of his room. Stuff like that."

You look over Steve's shoulder and see Bucky sitting on the sofa, looking at you curiously from over the back. You feel a pang in your heart when you see his anxious face, and you almost get offended on his behalf. Over the last few days, he's really been showing progression. "I don't mind keeping him company," you turn your attention back to Steve, "but don't you think he deserves a little more credit?"

"I know, it's just -" Steve winces, "- I'm still a bit worried about him and it would really ease my mind to know you'll help out. Please, I have to leave in a bit."

"Just go. Don't worry, we'll have fun."

"You're the best," he grabs your hands and kisses your knuckles. "Thank you," he says and adjusts the strap over his shoulder before he waves at Bucky and heads out the door.

When you sit back down on the sofa again, Bucky's weirdly distant.

"What did Steve want?" he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You turn your gaze towards him, scan his face and feel the same pang in your heart as before. "Honestly?" You sigh, "he wants me to keep an eye on you."

The colour in Bucky's cheeks drains so he becomes more pale than you've ever seen him. "So now you're babysitting me too?"

"Nope," you say unceremoniously and press play on the remote. "I told him to fuck off."

He smiles at that.

Day 39

It's almost midnight and you and Bucky are sitting outside on lawn chairs with cups of steaming hot tea cradled in your hands as you quietly look up at the stars above you. Normally, you like talking and could do so for hours, but lately, you've come to enjoy the quiet hours in Bucky's company too.

You give out a content sigh and briefly turn your gaze towards him as he studies the constellations above you.

Even though the March air is so cold you've put on several layers of wool just to be able to sit outside, he's only wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, his thick bicep bulging nicely against the black hem. You wonder what he might look like with his shirt off.

"You're staring," he mumbles, a cloud of vapour escaping him as he breathes against the chilly air.

"Sorry," you chuckle and look away, slightly embarrassed by your unsolicited staring. "I just can't really believe you're not cold."

"Serum," he mutters matter-of-factly.

"Wish I had some of that," you sigh and snuggle further down into your scarf.

"Trust me, you really don't."

"Why not?"

"You ever been over-stimulated? It's like that."

"Mmh," you nod. "All the time?"

"Pretty much."

"What does it feel like?"

He shrugs, "neurons firing. Like everything's dialed up to eleven. Summers are unbearable. Loud noises even more so. Annoying people become three times as annoying," he shoots you an amused side-eye and you can tell he's about to make a joke. "Just imagine what I go through with Sam."

"Eat a bag of dicks, Wilson," you repeat the words you heard Bucky mutter the other day when it was suggested that he switch out a protein bar for a can of tuna.

He smiles at you. "You heard that, huh?"

"Just because Sam chose to ignore you, doesn't mean the rest of us didn't hear you being crass."

"Sorry," he grins.

"I can take it."

"I know you can," he arches an eyebrow, about to say something, but is cut off by a sudden loud bang from above that has both of you look upwards.

"Ooh!" You immediately exclaim with enthusiasm as you follow the illumination of colours above. "Fireworks!" You lean into him, excitement quickly slipping from your face, however, when you notice the state he's in.

He's sitting as if petrified; stiff, glossy eyed, panting. His chest is heaving in shallow breaths and he stares at you with desperation.

"Bucky!" You cry out and immediately grab his pale cheeks, holding his face close to yours.

"Can't. Breathe," he's gulping for air, hands desperately clinging to your elbows.

"Look at me," you say and slowly heave in some air, trying hard to get him to match your breathing. "Focus on me," you exhale slowly.

His eyes flitters across your face but it works. He has his breathing under control within three deep breaths but then another loud bang sounds and he flinches.

"Come," you grab his hand and drag him inside to safety while he pants and whines behind you.

With the door kicked shut and your hands immediately on his cheeks again, you quietly remind him where he is. "You're safe, Bucky. It's just fireworks. You're safe here with me."

He clutches his heart as he slides down the wall behind him.

And when you hug him tightly, and over and over again remind him that he's safe, he slumps down against your shoulder and cries into your neck, holding onto you for dear life.

Day 40

Although he's been around you all day, Bucky hasn't uttered a single word directly to you since the panic attack the night before, so when he suddenly breaks the thick silence between you with a loud clearing of his throat, you immediately listen.

"Steve wants us to be friends," he says bluntly and completely out of context.

You look up from your book. "What?" You furrow your eyebrows. "- you don't think we're friends?"

"I - I don't know," he bites his inner cheek and finally looks at you for real, "I wasn't sure after the... you know."

"That changed nothing for me," you try to shrug nonchalantly although you want to shake him to make him understand. "You just panicked, Buck."

"Well who the fuck panics at fireworks?" he mumbles and looks awat, "you must think I'm fucking mental."

"Definitely not," you smile with a shake of your head. "I just think you have some invisible scars. That doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Mhh," he grunts without fully accepting your words. "I'm not sure I deserve your friendship," his mouth pulls to the side disapprovingly.

"You do," you put your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent. It's earthy and fresh; orange and cedar wood.

"So you don't think I'm.... off?" He asks quietly, lips close to your scalp. You can almost feel them vibrating.

"No, Buck," you smile with closed eyes, enjoying the close proximity. "I don't think you're off," you breathe in. Orange. Cedar wood. "Quite on the contrary. I like spending time with you."

He nods slowly while contemplating your words. "I - uh - I like spending time with you too."

"That makes me very happy to hear," you smile into his shoulder. "So you agree? We're friends?"

"Yeah," he nods and puts his chin on top of your head. "We can be friends."

Day 42

Steve's back from Boston with an injury.

"He took a blade to the glute so now he can't even walk," Bucky explains after coming back from visiting him in the med wing. "He says it's his hip but I just know it's because he's too decent to say ass in front of doctor Cho."

"Poor Steve," you wince while chuckling slightly at Bucky.

"Yeah... Even with the serum's recovery time, he figures he'll be out for the rest of the month."

"Well," you smile, "at least that means you finally found a legit way out of going on morning runs with him," you muse as you measure a cup of water for the dinner you're making the two of you.

"Yeah, thank fuck for that!" He agrees in relief, "I cannot listen to one more word about how much he loves bird song in the morning."

"God he's so old!" you laugh and switch your voice over in your best imitation of Steve, "Oh look over there, Bucky! A blue crested warbler!"

It's not even that funny but the voice you're making has Bucky laughing!

It's the first time since you first met him and, oh my god, if it isn't the most beautiful sound you've ever heard! The skin around his eyes crinkle softly, his head tilts backwards and he gives out a 'ha!' so loud you can see the back of his teeth.

You want to freeze this moment in time. To make him laugh at your stupid joke for an eternity while your stomach flips in slow motion.

Your own reaction to it perplexes you so much that the cup you're holding overflows.

Day 43

You've barely entered the gym before Bucky's let go of the bar he's doing pull ups in and has approached you to ask if you'll be his sparring partner for the day instead of Steve.

"Hip still a bust?"

Bucky nods and throws his grips to the ground. "What do you say?" He pants and wipes a drop of sweat from his temple. "We're both out of a partner. Might as well use each other as punch bags."

"Are you sure?" You arch an eyebrow while trying to ignore the sudden dryness of your inner cheek. "I mean; you look pretty beat already. How long have you been down here?"

"Couple of hours," he shrugs, "since breakfast."

"Since breakfast?"

Bucky shrugs again. "You were out."

"So you resorted to training for five plus hours because you were bored? I'm flattered Barnes."

He grins.

"- but yeah, sure, I guess I have time to throw you around for a bit," you wink at him and he grins again. It makes you feel warm. "But be warned, I might not be as good with a knife as you are but I'm faster than Steve and sneakier than Sam."

"So you say," he smiles and ties the small pony tail at the nape of his neck.

"Cute hair," you chuckle at him while you grab your makeshift dagger from your gym bag.

"A-har-har," he says sarcastically, "don't forget whose hairtie I'm wearing."

Day 46

He's sitting shirtless beside you, still panting from your daily sparring match, and you're trying your absolute hardest not to stare at the intricate scars that zigzag across his torso and comes to a blazingly red halt where flesh meets metal.

Over the last couple of sparring matches, you've thought to yourself more than once that he looks absolutely beautiful in all his scarred beauty.

"I talked to Steve this morning," he cuts the silence, thankfully giving you something else to think of other than tracing the red lines of his chiseled chest. "He's ready to start training again."

"Yeah?" you try and read his neutral expression. "Looks like morning laps around the lake are back on the menu for you then," you wink at him.

"Well at least I had eleven amazing days without bird watching," he jokes.

"I know you secretly love it," you smile, "- Okay, maybe not the bird-watching bit but the running at least."

"Yeah, it's fine," he leans forwards, puts his weight on his elbows an shoots you a glance. "So, what do you wanna do about us?"

Your stomach flips at the way he pronounces us. Like you're a unit.

Your voice suddenly seems raw. "What do you mean?" you smack your lips to bring them back to life.

It has Bucky follow your mouth intendedly.  "I mean, I guess you don't have to keep sparring with me now that Steve's back on the roster," he says, "I like sparring with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that -"

"Don't worry," you cut him off, relieved that you still have an excuse to be in this close proximity with him. "I like sparring with you too."

He smiles jokingly at you. "Even though I always win?"

"Even though you're always lucky," you chuckle, "and lets be honest, it's only because you fight dirty."

He sends you a puzzling look.

"As if taking off your shirt isn't a trick to get me weak in the knees!"

He gives you the loud 'ha!' you've been awarded with only a handful of times. It makes your stomach all warm and in the heat of the moment, you get the sudden urge to press your lips to his skin. To see if he tastes as good as he smells and feels and looks.

"Alright," he rolls his eyes and stands up from the bench with a groan that have your knees feel like rubber. "Come on, let's get back to me kicking your ass."

You look sceptically at the hand he's stretching out before you. "Will you be putting on your shirt to give me a fair chance?"

"No fucking way," he winks at you.

You flip him off.

Thankfully, it has him laughing again as he pulls you to your feet.

Day 49

"Sweetheart!" Steve exclaims excitedly as him and Bucky enter the living room at lunch time. "I haven't seen you in days!" He immediately strides around the table and hugs you while giving your cheek a brief kiss.

"Hey guys!" You smile at them and then turn towards Steve; "how's your butt?"

He shoots you a tired smile and you can tell from his face that's Bucky's already been giving him hell about his injury. "Butt's fine," he sighs and changes course. "How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Not much," you shrug, refraining from telling Steve that you've been spending almost every waking hour in Bucky's company.

"I hear you're kicking Bucky's ass," Steve chuckles.

"Well, he's a liar," you wink at Bucky who in return sends you the boyish smile that you love. "- He beats me at everything from shooting to stabbing. It's annoying."

"Don't listen to her, Stevie," Bucky protests with a smile as he crosses his bulky arms over his chest. God, you want to touch him! "She's doing fucking amazing."

"You know what?" you turn to Steve, "for someone so foul-mouthed, he's actually strangely polite!"

Steve laughs, "if you think that's bad, you should hear him when you're not around," he blows out a little air, "yikes!"

It has Bucky roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he chuckles, "lets not make it worse than it is."

"Come on Buck, you'd never use that kind of language in front of a beautiful dame," Steve grins.

"A beautiful dame?" you snicker at the old fashioned term. "Did you seriously just call me that?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckles and bumps his elbow against yours, "of course I think you're a beautiful dame."

"Gee thanks Steve," you grin, "that doesn't make me feel like a grandma at all," you look to Bucky for confirmation, but he awkwardly looks away.

Day 50

You and Bucky are watching the newest blockbuster on Netflix and have just arrived at the part where the final stand between the lead and the villain takes place, when in the middle of the tenacious battle, Bucky decides to talk.

"Is Steve your boyfriend?" He asks suddenly while following the burning helicopter debris on the screen in front of him.

You have a feeling that it's a question that's been nagging him since yesterday, but that he suddenly couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Steve?" You look over at him, a little perplexed. His eyes are glued to the screen in front of him and you're having a hard time figuring out if he's just embarrassed by the slightly prying question or if there's more to it. "- Why'd you think that?"

Bucky's face turns almost crimson. "I don't know," he says while pursing his lips but you have a strong feeling he knows exactly why. "You seem... cosy," he shrugs. There's a different tone behind the last word as if he had to struggle to even get it past his lips.

"We're just friends, Buck."

He stares ahead, body as tense as the first day you met him. "He thinks you're beautiful," he mumbles uncomfortably though he tries to hide it by feigning nonchalance. "And he's always kissing your face..."

"You should really ask Steve about that," you smile, "but no, there's nothing between us. Promise." You want to tell him that you only have eyes for him. That you want him to kiss you.

He gulps and flitters his gaze across your face, studies every angle while you follow his blue irises. Your stomach lurches, it's definitely the most intimate moment you've ever shared and you can feel the electricity between you.

 "Just for the record," he says quietly, "I think you're really pretty too."

Your throat tightens. It's suddenly hard to breathe. And before you've had a chance to react to his words, to take his lips between yours, he looks back at the screen and tightens his jaw.

You bet he's thinking of how much smoother this used to go.

Day 51

"Sooo," Sam sings as he playfully plumps down on the sofa next to you, "spill the tea!"

"...About?"

"Rumour has it that you and Bucky have the hots for each other." He pumps his eyebrows annoyingly. "Has he smooched you yet?"

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Because no, Bucky is taking things a little too slow for your liking and he hasn't smooched you yet though it's all you can think about when you're with him. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

He takes your bad attempt at dodging his question as confirmation. "Lucky guy!" He laughs, "seventy years on ice - God knows he must be excited to finally get a little sugar!"

You want to punch Sam.

Day 52

You've already gone to bed when there's a knock on your door.

"It's me," Bucky mumbles from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" You sit up straight and briefly fiddle with your pyjamas front even though you can tell by your bedside mirror that it looks fine.

He peers in from behind the door and you feel the familiar embers come to live inside of you when he shoots you an amused smile. "Nice PJ's," he cackles and and steps inside.

He looks amazing dressed from head to toe in his tactical suit complete with thigh strap and makeshift sniper rifle attached to his back.

"You're in your most comfortable outfit too, I can see," you grin and nod towards the grenade launcher he's holding. "What are you all dressed up for, sergeant Barnes?" 

He gives you a crooked smile at the old familiar name. "It's Tuesday," he brazenly waves the launcher in front of his face as if you're supposed to know what that means.

"Which means we have to sacrifice someone?" You joke.

"Steve and I usually do Tactical Tuesdays in our combat gear. But apparently, his ass is still sore," he grins and you can tell he has to hold back a laugh, "I - uh - I was wondering if you'd wanna come with me instead? Sorry, didn't realise how late it was."

"I'll come!" You say excitedly before he's even had the chance to finish his sentence. "Give me two seconds," you grab your tactical suit and bag of knives, quickly changing in the bathroom while Bucky patiently waits for you.

When you re-enter your quarters, knifes neatly arranged in the belt strapped around your waist and all, Bucky briefly forgets all about his manners and runs his eyes down your full length. You know you look good in the skin-tight suit, but even though you'd picked the all-black outfit for his pleasure, you're still surprised to have him so discomposed before you.

You clear your throat so his slate blue eyes snap back up to meet yours and he realises he's been caught red-handed. "Get a good look?" You smile at him.

"Fuck off," he grins with pink cheeks and turns his gaze away and opens the door for you. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you excitedly step past him and into the hallway, feeling his gaze burn on your backside.

"Okay I have to ask" you say as the elevator zooms towards the gym on the ground floor. "Is it really necessary with four guns? What are you compensating for?"

He smirks. "Says the woman who brought six knives."

"Touché," you laugh, "but if I know you correctly, you also have a few daggers tugged under your belt."

He smiles knowingly.

"How much do you reckon it takes to take me down when I'm in my tac suit?" You ask him, bemused. "Four guns and two daggers?"

He looks at you with an arched eyebrow.

"- And lets not forget about the grenade launcher," you chuckle as the elevator doors ping open. "Super handy for close combat."

"I'm just putting it in my locker," he rolls his eyes at you as he holds open the door to the gym. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh I would never," you grin and watch his broad backside as he dumps the launcher on the top shelf of his locker, picking up his switchblade instead. "What?" He chuckles when he turns around and sees your cocked eyebrows, "it's my weapon of choice."

"You are so only bringing that because you know I love your little knife flip."

He shakes his head with a grin as he leans down to tighten the laces of his right boot.

Just to have something other to do than stare at his muscular form, you adjust the white sportstape wrapped around your knuckles. You cannot wait for training to begin so you have something else to focus on.

"Okay," he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, tying the small pony tail that, in the time since you've come to know him, has turned into a bun. "Ready?"

"Come at me Barnes," you smile while taking on your fighting stance, parrying your face with your taped up fists.

He smiles at you briefly before he surprise-lunges forwards, ready to sweep you off your feet, but you know he fights aggressively and has seen it coming from miles away. Skilfully, you jump as high as you can, swinging your knee over his neck so you're sitting on top of his shoulders.

He crouches over before you've had a chance to yank his collar, makes you do a somersault over his head and throws you down on your back, immediately pressing his dull practise switchblade against your throat.

"Fuck!" You admit defeat.

"That's got to be a new record," he grins, "10 seconds."

"Dammit!"

"Come on," he offers you his hand and pull you to your feet, "let's go again."

"Alright," you take on your stance once more and try to read him, "you got lucky this time."

"Sure," he says and grins while skilfully swinging his switchblade so it swooshes in the air between you.

"Show off," you stick out your tongue and take advantage of his momentary grinning as you run towards him, slip down to your knees and slide between his legs, plunging your little white plastic dagger into his right calf so the blade disappears into the handle.

"Right side injury," you yell to make him simulate that he's hurt and kick his left leg in the hope that he will fall down.

But even off balance, he's sturdier than you think and keeps his stance, so you jump to your feet and charge at him again, this time jumping him on his front, forgetting that he has a vibranium arm as you try and injure his left shoulder.

"Shit!" You say through gritted teeth at the sound of metal clanging against metal.

He takes advantage of the added weight to his front and falls forward on purpose so you land on your back, knocking the wind out of you in the process.

He lands on his knees between your legs, and even though you have your ankles wrapped around his waist and your plastic knife inside his arm pit, his fake gun is out of its holster, and he's pointing it straight at your heart.

"Got you," he's panting hard as he studies your face, moving his torso a little closer to you, and you get the sudden feeling he's about to lean in and finally kiss you, so you tighten the grip your legs have around his waist, silently telling him to come closer. But he looks away and re-holsters his gun.

"That was better," he admits and stands up, holding out his hand for you to take. "Nice detail with the surprise kick."

With disappointment pooling in your stomach, you let him pull you up from the floor. "Mhm," you grunt. "And it would've worked too if it wasn't for your stupidly large feet."

"Sorry," he smiles, "Kick harder next time. Bust my fucking ankle" he winks at you.

"I'll bust your balls," you mutter, analysing the way he distributes his weight to predict how he'll move.

He laughs, "I love when you talk dirty to me!" He flips the daggers he's holding in each hand.

"God, you're so cocky right now!"

He grunts and readies himself for your attack, "I'll fucking show you."

Which he does. Two times more.

"Again!" You grunt in annoyance.

"How much more can you take?" He chuckles as you get in position for the fifth time.

"More," you parry your face again.

"Alright alright," he wipes his forehead on his wrist, "just gimme a second. I'm sweating balls."

"Don't you dare take off your shirt just to throw me off!"

"I would never!" he grins and grabs the neck of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, revealing glistening pecs and that small trail of hair that you've dreamt of licking.

"You're fucking infuriating, Barnes," you say while charging straight at his dumb smile, but he grabs you around the waist before you've even had the chance to react and throws you to the ground, unstrapping your knife belt in the process so you only have a single dagger left to defend yourself with.

He throws himself on top of you, pins your wrists over your head and incapacitates you by pressing his chest down on your lungs.

"Fuck!"

"Five seconds this time," he smirks. "You're slipping. Should've stayed in bed, huh?"

"Did your mom ever tell you how fucking annoying you are?" you wriggle to get loose but he merely tightens his grip. "Can't you just let me win once?"

"Can't help it. I love when you turn all aggressive."

"What happened to all the gentleman-crap you and Steve always advocate?"

"It went out the door when you starting cursing at me," he grins and pulls on your wrists so you stretch your shoulders with a small groan.

"Careful Barnes or I'm not gonna want to play with you anymore," you do another small wriggle to break free.

"I have a hard time believing that," he says and with a grin turns his gaze down the length of your neck again, fixes his eyes on your panting chest.

The electricity you've felt between you as of late swells and grows, settles in your chest cavity at the way his weight feels between your legs, his handsome face mere inches from yours. Voltage in your joined skin.

You study his every move as he briefly licks his lips and look back at you.

With your eyes locked on his, he gulps, suddenly uncomfortable. Neither of you say anything but the look he sends you speak volumes when he settles his gaze on your mouth.

"Bucky," you say tenderly and search his face in the hope that it will finally get him to kiss you, but it does the opposite. Instead, it looks as if he awakens from a trance.

He blinks twice, parts his lips as he carefully examines your expression and then he sends you an apologetic smile as he lets go of your wrists. "Sorry," he says and move away from you, stands up as he avoids your disappointed gaze. "Let's call it a night."

You have a hard time being as nonchalant as he is about the situation he just denied the both of you, and you jump to your feet with annoyance radiating from your entire being. "Hell no!" You protest as you clip on your knife belt again, "I'm not done with you."

"Sweetheart," he sighs pointedly with a raised eyebrow but the new nickname doesn't escape you and it takes the edge of the infuriation you feel.

"Don't sweetheart me," you say and bend down in your hips, balling your taped-up hands into fists. "Get in position. I'm gonna find your weak spot soon enough, Barnes."

"If you say so," he sighs in defeat. "Come on then," he lazily waves you forward and you run straight towards him, copying the manoeuvre from the first round by swinging your knee over his neck.

Again, he tries to throw you off by bending forwards, but this time you're holding on much tighter to him and you stay put. He slashes the plastic switchblade against your arm, yelling out "injury!" while throwing you off his shoulder again when you're not allowed to use your left arm to hold on to him any longer.

Luckily, you land on your feet so you kick his left arm, making the switch blade fly out of his grip and you spin again, this time fuelled by so much frustration towards him, that you kick him straight in the chest with so much force he immediately falls down.

He lands on his back with a thump while you land straddled across his chest, your face close to his, the small plastic dagger in your hand pressed tightly against his Adam's apple.

"Okay," he gulps and opens his palms to signify surrender, "this time, you have me. That kick was ballsy!" he grins boyishly. "Your flexibility always amazes me."

"Told you I'd find your weak spot," you pant with a proud smile on your lips, enjoying having him in his lying like this.

The knife is no longer pressed to his skin but neither of you are doing anything to move out of the position you're in, and when his eyes search your face and he lets out a small inaudible gulp, you lean forwards without thinking, finally claiming his lips in a hungry kiss.

He follows you immediately and it doesn't take long before your tongues are intertwined and his right hand is cradled around your chin.

"Bucky," you whisper against him and stretch out your arms over his head and you slink forwards, dragging your front over his.

"Mmh", he hums against you and sits up so you straddle his waist, presses his pelvis towards yours and kisses you again while he grabs you around the ribcage, scoots you closer to his. "You are my weak spot," he pants and pushes his tongue inside your mouth, lets his arousal grow.

You bury your fingers in his long hair, let him lick your neck while he groans beneath you. "Take off my clothes," you whisper in his ear and lick the shell of it. 

"Ah shit," he whispers against your skin and gives you a brief, wet kiss before he moves his head to get a better look at you. "You are so beautiful," he whispers and goes back to kiss your wanting lips, vibranium fingers slowly pulling down the zipper at the front of your suit, revealing your naked chest to him.

"Fuck me," he gulps when he looks down at the exposed skin between you, "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers and leans forwards, takes your nipple between his lips and kisses you sensually

"I'm crazy about you," you confess in a whisper and throw back your head as his hands become more wanting, his hips suddenly moving in small thrusts. "Fuck me Bucky," you fist his hair and hold him at an arms length while moving your hips to simulate you riding him which has him grunt a few excited times.

He looks at you with pupils blown wide, mouth falling open. "Oh my god, you are so dirty!"

"I want you so bad," you pad his erection through his cargo pants and he shoots back his head in response, the most beautifully sinful look etched on his face. "Take off your pants."

"Yeah," he grins and flips you onto your back, gives you a brief kiss before he stands up, unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants, kicking them and his boots off. He gives a raspy exhale when he sees you sitting on your knees before him, and he groans gutturally when you find the edge of him through his boxers and you trace the massive outline of him with your lips.

He takes a step closer to you, buries his hands in your hair as you kiss the trail of hair from his navel down and lick the muscles giving his torso a distinct V running down beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

"Sweetheart," he groans without looking away, tenderly holding your hair back so he can see your face as you kiss and lick him. "I've been dreaming of this."

"Me too," you trace his head underneath the dark fabric, suck a wet spot at the tip and cup his balls in your hands, letting your index finger slip back to touch his tight perineum.

"Jesus fuck, you are so fucking dirty," He shoots back his head with a groan, eyes suddenly fixating on something above you, but you ignore it.

You're about to pull down the last layer of fabric separating him from your mouth, when he takes a step back. "Hey, hey," he suddenly says in a different tone of voice and he puts his hands on your arm to get you to stop moving, eyes still fixated above you.

"Sweetheart," he looks down at you with a shocked expression as he takes one more step backwards while drying off saliva from the corner of his mouth. "Not here, okay?"

"Why not?"

"There's a camera pointing straight at us." He points over your head and you notice the red dot immediately.

You release the grip you have on him with a sigh. "Tony and his fucking security," you mumble.

He quietly helps you up and pulls on his pants while you zip up the front of your suit so you're decent again.

"So now what?" you grin a little awkwardly and take a step closer to him, hoping that he will suggest one of your bedrooms.

"Come on," he's suddenly serious as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the elevator, silently pointing out the security camera blinking angrily in the corner of the lift as you zoom up to your floor.

"Being cockblocked by a camera really wasn't on my bingo card for this year," you joke.

He smiles a little but you can tell it's forced and it doesn't change the frown he's sporting.

You both get off on your floor and he follows you to your quarters but doesn't follow you inside when you open the door.

"I should go," he furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" You turn around staring at him.

"The footage," he mumbles and his upper lip twitches. "I have to go destroy it."

"We can do so tomorrow," you smile at him and grab him around the waist, kissing his neck to try and coax him into continue where you left off.

"Might be too late then," he whispers.

"Bucky, come on. It's just Tony."

He leans forwards and for a brief moment, you're sure you have him convinced but then he presses his lips to your cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," he says quietly and with that, he's out the door.

His prescense lingers even after he's gone and all you can think about is what would've happened if he'd stayed.

Day 53

You'd listened to him pacing the floor of his quarters above you half the night before deciding on getting up yourself.

He didn't join your around 4 am as he usually does when neither of you are able to sleep, and at 7:30, Steve came down dressed in his running gear alone.

"What's up with Bucky?" He asks while scratching his beard. It's not something you've ever explicitly discussed before but of course he too has noticed how much time you've been spending together outside the ring.

"I don't know," you shrug and turn your attention back to the book you've been pretending to read for two hours straight.

Even with your eyes fixed on the yellowing pages in front of you, you can tell that Steve stops mid-motion. "...Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we did not," you scoff, "we're not children."

"I know. But you're both wearing the same long face, and he's usually occupying that chair - " he points to the bar stool opposite you, "- when he's making up bad excuses to spend more time with you instead of coming out for a run with me."

"I don't know what's up with him, Steve," you say pointedly, "I'm not his girlfriend!"

Steve puts his weight on his elbow and leans close so you can see his expression from the corner of your eyes. "Is that what this is about?" he asks quietly, "You want to be his girlfriend?"

Your cheeks light up and you determinedly fix your gaze on the first word of the page. "I'm not having this conversation with you," you mumble even though you know your cover is made.

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "I've already had it with Bucky."

Finally, your interest is piqued. You shoot Steve a nervous side eye. He's looking at you like a disappointed father. 

"...and?" You ask when he doesn't continue.

"I really don't think this is a conversation you should be having with me."

"Well you started it," you mumble and look back down again, flipping the page of your book even though you haven't read a single word.

Suddenly, Steve stands up straight. "Hey man," he says over your head and you don't have to turn you gaze to know who's just entered the room.

"Hey," you hear Bucky's voice from the doorway before he fully enters the room though he stays close to the exit.

"Right," Steve nods and pads your hand before pressing past Bucky, clapping his shoulder in the process.

Finally alone, Bucky takes two steps closer to you. "Hey, sweetheart," he mumbles quietly, hands buried in his pockets, "can we talk?"

You look up at him, the air between you thick. "Sure," you sigh but cross your arms over your chest.

He takes the bar stool next to you, drums his fingers against the steel kitchen counter, purses his lips. "Last night was -..." he trails off and closes his eyes in frustration when he cannot find the right words.

"Disappointing?" You say and cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he agrees honestly. "It was very disappointing. I'm sorry about that."

He looks sincere but you're not sure how to react. You want to accept his apology - to have him back on your side - but you need an explanation.

"It wasn't because I didn't enjoy it," he quietly continues, "- because trust me, I did," he sends you a pained look and you ease up on the defensive position you're holding yourself in as he carefully grabs your hands, kisses your knuckles tenderly. "I didn't lie when I said that I've been wanting it for quite some time," he looks at your joined hands and your heart cracks at the confession that Steve insinuated. "- been wanting you."

"Then why'd you leave?" You ask quietly.

His gaze crawls up to meet yours. "Truth be told, I got scared."

"Of... us?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. Of that camera."

"The camera?" you tilt your head to the side and search his face, "Honey, it's just Tony. I know there's bad blood between you, but he would never expose any of us."

"I know," he gulps. "It's more what the camera represents. Usually, I'm so aware."

"Of what?"

"Everything," he breathes as if it's a relief to say out loud. "It's like I told you; the serum enhances everything inside of you, dials everything up to fucking eleven. So in terms of combat and targeting enemies it's great, but when I'm with you, I don't feel anything else..."

You furrow your brows. You don't understand.

"Sweetheart... I can tell by the colour of the dust underneath Sam's shoes where he's been taking his latest date. I know when you're on your period just from the way you wash your hair. I know when Nat's talked to her sister last, when Steve's not sleeping - even when Coulson's wife's van needs an oil change. I'm aware of every emergency exit, surveillance measurement and guard change of every building I've entered in the past six months, but that camera last night? Sweetheart, I forgot it was there."

"Buck," You whisper achingly. "That's an awful lot to carry around."

"I know," he mumbles. "Being alert of everything has been my default for so long - a survival mechanism if you will - but last night, you were all I saw. And I got scared when I suddenly realised how easily you've made me put down my guard," he sighs. "That's why I left."

An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, you fiddle with the golden link that runs over the back of his left hand. "I know it scared you but I bet it must've felt good to let go too."

"You have no idea," he breathes out a sigh of relief. "But it's not easy to let go of something that's such an integral part of your way of living. Contemplated what to do all night."

"What did you conclude?" Your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

"That kissing you definitely beats remembering where every security camera in the compound is," he shoots you a careful smile. "Look I know I screwed up, and I know I should've kissed you weeks ago. And I'll probably still get scared of the effect you have on me from time to time," he moves a little, uncomfortable. " - but if you want me, I'm yours."

"If I still want you?" You smile at him, "you're all I want Buck. You know I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm in love with you too."

"I know," you bite your lower lip and search his face.

He moves a little closer to you, snakes his hands around your neck in quiet desperation and finally kisses you.

"Hey," you whisper in-between tender kisses. "Perhaps you wanna show me your room?"

"Yeah," he grins against your lips. "I wanna fucking show you the world."

He's been at the compound almost two weeks now, always following Steve around looking anxious and slightly beside himself as he tries his best to blend in with the wall behind him, flinching if someone comes a little too close or laughs a little too loudly near him. You've all noticed his nervous eyes constantly darting all over his surroundings, clearly checking for the nearest exit to make sure he can escape at just a moment's notice.

You also haven't heard him say much apart from his name when he first arrived and the occasional 'yes' or 'no' when Steve asks him stuff, but you've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you've got your attention directed elsewhere.

You wonder if he's having a hard time adjusting not only to his new home but also to the flourishing friendship between you and Steve, so you give both of them space to find each other again. After all, Steve is important to you, so by proxy, Bucky is too.

Day 19

Three weeks in and you're eating dinner by yourself in the kitchen when you hear footsteps from the hallway. 

"Smells like the kitchen's occupied right now," Steve's soft voice sounds from the other side of the wall before he's even shown himself in the doorframe, "come on, we'll just come back later."

"You can come in, it's okay," you call back over your plate of chicken tikka masala, excited to finally have an excuse to talk to Steve after weeks of almost complete radio-silence.

He pokes his head around the door frame. "You sure? We can wait 30 minutes until you're done - we don't mind, do we Buck?" He looks over his shoulder and you hear Bucky mumble something incoherently before Steve looks back at you with an apologetic smile.

"No, no please come in," you urge the two of them forwards with a wave of your fork, "it's been a quiet day, I would love some company."

"Well it does smell lovely in here," Steve smiles broadly and steps inside, immediately striding over to you by the dinner table while Bucky silently follows him.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve mutters happily and kisses the top of your head, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

"Hi Stevie," you lean into him and send Bucky what you hope is a disarming smile from over Steve's shoulder as he sits down at the far end of the table. He looks as if he'd rather be lying under a rock.

"I didn't want to impose on your big reunion," you explain, "I thought you guys needed some well-deserved time to reconcile."

Steve sends you a grateful look and starts emptying the fridge of vegetables.

"So what've you been up to today?" you ask as he pulls out a bag of chopped kale and a sad looking winter squash.

"Uhm, not much," Steve eyes the squash suspiciously. "Went for a run earlier, showed Buck around the gym. Had my ass handed to me in the ring, didn't I?" He laughs and looks over at Bucky who's sitting quietly between you like a polite child.

"I - I don't know about that," Bucky says uncomfortably and darts his eyes over to you, checking for your reaction.

You remember feeling like that; scared that others would be afraid of you if you showed them exactly what you were capable off. It makes your stomach ache.

"Come on Buck, you beat the living shit out of me," Steve laughs unknowingly and it makes Bucky's ears turn red and his mouth reduce to a thin white line.

"I hear you're skilled with a switchblade," you speak directly to Bucky, wanting to show him that you're neither afraid of him nor his capabilities. "I could use some pointers for close combat if you have any," you try to shrug as nonchalantly as humanly possible. "I usually spar with Sam or Steve but they're both terrible with knives!"

"It's true," Steve grins. "You're a better match for her, Buck."

Bucky's eyes dart between you and Steve but he doesn't reply.

"Say the word, and I'm yours for an afternoon, James," you smile.

Bucky grunts and uncomfortably slinks back in his chair.

Day 24

There's a strong burning sensation in your eyelids as you blink for the first time in what feels like hours and you turn your head to the side, only to realise the clock is up by a mere three minutes.

4:42

It's mocking you. Red digits staring at you in the dark, reminding you that you have exactly two hours and eighteen minutes before you have to be dressed for your weekly sparring match with Sam. You give out an involuntary groan at the thought and try placing yourself differently on the mattress although it feels like you've tried out every possible position already.

It's the third night in a row you haven't closed a single eye, and it's starting to drive you crazy! It's not as if you really have a job where you can afford an off day. Off days usually results in getting badly injured - or in worst cases; killed.

With yet another annoyed groan, you sit up straight on the mattress. 4:44.

"That's it," you mumble under your breath and swing your legs over the side of the bed frame, grabbing your wollen socks and your book in the process as you determinedly decide that you're not gonna waste the next few hours fretting over missing sleep.

The entire first floor is completely dark as you walk the empty hallway, so when you enter the living room, you're surprised to find another person already occupying the room.

"James?"

He's sitting in the big winged chair, his hair unruly, shoulders slumped, dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't even look up to greet you but keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of him as he gives out a tired grunt in response. The skin underneath his eyes is irritated and spotted, and you think to yourself that it looks like he's been crying. A lot.

"Are you okay?" You ask and he blinks a few times at the question but still doesn't look up.

"M'fine."

He looks awful and you cannot help but think to yourself that Steve definitely doesn't know about this. That if he did, he'd be sitting right here beside the man he's been missing like a piece of himself.

"How long have you been up?"

Bucky's eyes flicker to the clock above the door. "A while," he grunts and you get the immediate feeling that maybe he's never even gone to bed.

"Hmm," you nod, not sure what else to say. "Come, I'll make us coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"Well come anyway," you urge him.

His eyes meet yours for the first time and you guess he's considering how to gently turn you down, but after af couple of contemplative seconds, he finally sighs as he pushes himself up from the chair and reluctantly follows you. Even though he pulls the bill of his cap down towards his eyes, it feels like a victory. Thank god for his impeccable manners or he probably would've turned around and left altogether.

He sits down on the bar stool at the kitchen island and you pour both of you a mug of instant coffee.

Normally, he seems to thrive in silence but you've never seen him look more uncomfortable, so you decide on breaking the ice.

Carefully, you clear your throat and his eyes immediately dart towards you. He already looks sick of the question you haven't even asked him yet, but still, you continue.

"You're on the ninth floor, right? Next to Sam."

He nods.

"Have you settled in nicely?"

"Mhm," he grunts.

"I live on the floor below. Sandwiched between Steve and Nat."

"Okay," he nods, probably wondering why you won't just leave him alone.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," he hesitates and sighs in slight annoyance when he realises that his short answers aren't going to keep you from yapping away. "People here are nice. I guess," he gives in with a shrug.

You chuckle and watch as he takes a sip of the coffee and scrunches up his nose, looking at the coffee as if it's offended him.

"I don't know if you know this-" you say as you finally look away from him now that you have a reason to continue the conversation, "- but I'm actually quite new to the compound too. I've only been here about six months."

"Steve told me," Bucky nods and tries to hide that his fleeting eyes are studying your every movement. "He talks a lot about you."

It makes you smile. "He talks a lot about you too."

Bucky follows the movement of your fingers as they tap the rim of the mug in front of you but doesn't say anything.

Entertained by how he studies you, you slowly bring the cup to your lips. "Where is Steve?" You ask him and take a sip.

Bucky's eyes briefly catch yours again and a thin line immediately appears between his dark eyebrows. "In bed," he grunts, "- why?"

"Does he know you're-"

"He's not my babysitter," he cuts you off pointedly.

"I know," you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I was just wondering if he knows you're not sleeping. There are remedies for insomnia these days, you know."

His eyes seem to stare straight through to your soul. "Like coffee?" he grunts, challenging you.

It makes you chuckle. "Touché!"

The muscles on his forehead seem to relax a little now that he's figured out you can take a joke. "No, he doesn't know," he mumbles and looks away. "He has enough to deal with being Captain America and all. I don't want to burden him more than I already have."

"I see," you nod and go back to your coffee, thinking to yourself that Bucky might no longer be the great charmer Steve's told you stories about, but he's definitely a good man. Perhaps with some humour in there if you dig deep enough.

"Are you going to tell him?" He asks with slate blue eyes coming back up to stare right through you once more. He's challenging you again.

"Don't see why I would," you shrug. You want to show him that you can be trusted. That he doesn't have to rely on Steve alone.

He stares at you intensely a couple of seconds before his face fades back to neutral, but you see the way the tension of his shoulders eases just a fraction. Finally, he's disarmed.

"How do you like the coffee?" You ask, pleased to see that you've passed his tests.

His probing eyes direct the attention to the Falcon mug in front of him. "It tastes like ass," he grunts sincerely and stares disprovingly at the mug.

It makes you laugh.

Day 25

It's 5:23 when you hear dragging feet shuffling in the hallway. They stop right outside the kitchen door but nobody enters.

You know who it is, and you know he's currently contemplating going back to his quarters so he doesn't have to talk to you, but you decide on ruining his plan.

"You can come in," you say cheerily but the door stays immobile for a second or two before a heavy sigh sounds and he gently pushes it open.

Once again, you're thankful for his impeccable manners.

"Good morning," you say cheerily and turn off the heat to the pot on the stove.

"Mornin'," he mumbles while giving off an aura of slight annoyance, but you catch the brief interested look he shoots the eggs sizzling in front of you.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask as you plate your breakfast and sit down opposite him.

"I didn't."

"Me neither," you muse. "Are you hungry?" You ask him altough you know he is. He didn't show up for team dinner last night.

His eyes dart from yours, down to the shakshuka between you and back up again. He gives you a curt shake of his head but his stomach gives him away by growling.

"Come," you smile and hand him an extra fork, "we'll share mine."

He hesitates.

"- come on, I can tell you’re hungry."

"I’ll wait for Steve," he mumbles, "I don't want to ruin your breakfast."

"What are you talking about? I was lonely until you joined me," you push your plate towards him. "Let me do something nice for you in return."

He looks at you perplexed as if he isn't sure how to respond to your kindness. Slowly, he casts his eyes downwards so they scan the red sauce and eggs between you instead. "I don't know what it is."

"Try some," you offer him a reassuring smile.

You cannot decide whether he looks more curious or annoyed. "Okay. Thank you," he mumbles quietly and takes a small amount of sauce and eggs on his fork, carefully inserting it in his mouth. "It's spicy!" He furrows his brows and looks at you as if you've just tried to poison him, and before you can even react, his eyes widen. "Jesus FUCK!" He coughs.

You have to hold back a splutter of laughter at his sudden cursing. "Sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

He takes a gulp of water. "Fuck me!"

You chuckle, "Are you okay?"

He sucks in some air and waves his hand dismissively between you.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry," you full on laugh and catch his desperate eye as he takes another big gulp of water, "I always make it too spicy for Steve too."

"Shit," he wheezes and looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you grin with tears in your own eyes, "I can make you something else."

"No, I like it," he continues coughing a little, "- I think."

"You think?" You laugh.

"I just didn't even know food could taste like this," he purses his lips and suck in some cooling air while eyeing the shakshuka between you. "For the past seventy years, I've only had stew and potatoes."

"Mmh," you sigh with a suddenly serious frown, and for a second, Bucky looks as if he's scared he's said something god-awful wrong but you interrupt him before his mind starts to wander. "Sorry - it's just: I remember that all too well. Eating the same thing over and over again. Personally, I haven't touched beets since I escaped."

He freezes slightly in his chair "...Escaped?"

You nod, "yeah. I was trained under the Soviet Armed Forces."

Bucky's gaze tells you that he's well-aware of the things you must've endured. "...Oh," he puts down the fork he's been holding.

"Yeah. Thank god I knew Natasha or I would probably still be stuck in Moscow."

"Hmm," he furrows his eyebrows. "I was told stories about Operation Red Room back when I was..." he clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and you refrain from telling him that you heard stories about him too. That from a young age, you'd been told that the Winter Soldier would come in the night if you didn't practise your ballet. "- You were... brainwashed too?" His eyes find yours.

You nod slowly. It seems you've finally found common ground.

He furrows his brows. "But you're normal?" he states matter-of-factly and immediately looks embarrassed by himself.

You smile at his expression. "Just as normal as you I guess."

Bucky's mouth twitches a little as he offers you the first hint of a smile you've ever seen on his face. It's hesitant, but it's there. And it lingers when he goes in for a second bite of your breakfast.

Day 30

Last night at dinner, Steve had told you that Bucky was having one of his more 'gloomier weeks' (his words) and that he would neither leave the bed nor have anything to eat no matter how much Steve tried to coax him.

Of course you haven't mentioned to anybody that you've shared your breakfast with Bucky every early morning for the past week, getting a chance to talk to him before he sneaks back to his room as the rest of the compound starts waking up, so when his pale cheeks suddenly appear behind Steve's back not even 30 minutes after you've wished him a good day, you try not to make too much of a fuss about it.

"Mornin' guys," you smile at them from over your coffee cup. They're both dressed in running gear with a huge Captain America logo on the front and you smile a little at how Bucky looks like he's about to hurl himself off of the nearest cliff. Your eyes meet his as he unsuccessfully tries to smooth back his long hair. "- Doing anything fun?"

"Thought we'd take some laps around the lake, didn't we Buck?" Steve smiles and pushes Bucky forwards so they're at the same level.

Bucky merely grunts, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"Sounds lovely," you sip your coffee, happy that you haven't come up with the same insane idea.

"Yeah, it's the first day of spring and the sun is finally out!" Steve sighs lovingly while Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly annoyed by Steve's peppy morning routine. "-Wanna join?"

"Oh absolutely not," you splutter with a laugh. "This is your insane idea. Don't drag me into it."

It makes Bucky's upper lip twitch familiarly as he tries smoothing back his long hair again.

"Big Captain America fan?" You joke as you nod towards the giant star on Bucky's chest.

Luckily, he doesn't miss a beat and picks it up immediately; "not really," he says in a sour tone of voice, "I'm only wearing this because they were all out of Iron Man shirts."

It makes both you and Steve laugh and Bucky sweeps back his hair again, for a brief moment looking proud of himself.

You're still grinning as you lock eyes with him and hand him the hairtie from around your wrist. "Here," you say as you wobble it in the air between you "to keep your hair out of your eyes."

Bucky hesitates as he looks between you and the black elastic band.

"It's a game changer, trust me," you grin and once again urges him to take it.

He's still hesitating when he takes a step forwards and grabs it from your hand, slowly tying the smallest ponytail you've ever seen at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, James," you smile at him and he briefly smiles back before his expression fades to neutral again.

With pink cheeks, he looks at you while nervously shifting his weight around on his feet. "You can... call me Bucky if you'd like."

You smile at him and he carefully returns your smile. He's actually quite cute. "Okay Bucky," you nod, "I'd like that."

Steve looks as if he might burst from joy.

Day 34

Four days later, Bucky sits down next to you on the sofa. It's the first time during the day he isn't following Steve around like a dark shadow and it really suits him to be this independant.

"Hello," he says carefully.

"Hey Buck, what's up," you greet him and put down your book.

"I was thinking," he starts off slowly while fidgeting with the metal plates of his left hand. "If maybe you'd wanna show me one of those movies you were talking about at dinner the other night?"

"Yeah," you immediately grin and have to hide your excitement of finally having him seek you out voluntarily. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, already much more relaxed. "I don't really know any movies apart from Bambi and I doubt that's still a hit."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh and turn on the Netflix app, ready to show him your favourite movie. "Get cozy," you throw him a blanket, "I know exactly where to start."

He nods and carefully unfolds the blanket as he directs his attention to the title on the movie displayed on the screen. There's something heartwarming about seeing the world's most deadly assassin wrapped in plaid, sitting stiff as a trunk with his hands folded neatly in his lap, but you make sure not to look too obvious as you smile widely.

As the movie plays, you carefully watch his reactions to make sure he's thoroughly entertained, but even though he doesn't laugh at the funny parts, he still assures you that he liked it when the movie ends.

"You don't have to say that if you don't mean it."

"Okay," he chuckles so beautifully your stomach lurches forwards, "- maybe I would have liked to change some things around, but overall, I liked it."

"Okay, good," you smile.

"Maybe you can show me all your favourite movies?" He tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"I'd like that, Buck"

Day 37

"Hey sweetheart, I have a favour to ask you," Steve says when he catches you coming back from the bathroom during a movie break. He's dressed in tactical gear from head to toe, carrying his shield on his back and talking in his serious, low voice as he pulls you to the side so no one can hear the two of you. "I have to go with Tony to Boston for a few days. It's an emergency," he sighs, "do you think you could keep an eye on Bucky until I get back? Make sure he gets something to eat, that he comes out of his room. Stuff like that."

You look over Steve's shoulder and see Bucky sitting on the sofa, looking at you curiously from over the back. You feel a pang in your heart when you see his anxious face, and you almost get offended on his behalf. Over the last few days, he's really been showing progression. "I don't mind keeping him company," you turn your attention back to Steve, "but don't you think he deserves a little more credit?"

"I know, it's just -" Steve winces, "- I'm still a bit worried about him and it would really ease my mind to know you'll help out. Please, I have to leave in a bit."

"Just go. Don't worry, we'll have fun."

"You're the best," he grabs your hands and kisses your knuckles. "Thank you," he says and adjusts the strap over his shoulder before he waves at Bucky and heads out the door.

When you sit back down on the sofa again, Bucky's weirdly distant.

"What did Steve want?" he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You turn your gaze towards him, scan his face and feel the same pang in your heart as before. "Honestly?" You sigh, "he wants me to keep an eye on you."

The colour in Bucky's cheeks drains so he becomes more pale than you've ever seen him. "So now you're babysitting me too?"

"Nope," you say unceremoniously and press play on the remote. "I told him to fuck off."

He smiles at that.

Day 39

It's almost midnight and you and Bucky are sitting outside on lawn chairs with cups of steaming hot tea cradled in your hands as you quietly look up at the stars above you. Normally, you like talking and could do so for hours, but lately, you've come to enjoy the quiet hours in Bucky's company too.

You give out a content sigh and briefly turn your gaze towards him as he studies the constellations above you.

Even though the March air is so cold you've put on several layers of wool just to be able to sit outside, he's only wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, his thick bicep bulging nicely against the black hem. You wonder what he might look like with his shirt off.

"You're staring," he mumbles, a cloud of vapour escaping him as he breathes against the chilly air.

"Sorry," you chuckle and look away, slightly embarrassed by your unsolicited staring. "I just can't really believe you're not cold."

"Serum," he mutters matter-of-factly.

"Wish I had some of that," you sigh and snuggle further down into your scarf.

"Trust me, you really don't."

"Why not?"

"You ever been over-stimulated? It's like that."

"Mmh," you nod. "All the time?"

"Pretty much."

"What does it feel like?"

He shrugs, "neurons firing. Like everything's dialed up to eleven. Summers are unbearable. Loud noises even more so. Annoying people become three times as annoying," he shoots you an amused side-eye and you can tell he's about to make a joke. "Just imagine what I go through with Sam."

"Eat a bag of dicks, Wilson," you repeat the words you heard Bucky mutter the other day when it was suggested that he switch out a protein bar for a can of tuna.

He smiles at you. "You heard that, huh?"

"Just because Sam chose to ignore you, doesn't mean the rest of us didn't hear you being crass."

"Sorry," he grins.

"I can take it."

"I know you can," he arches an eyebrow, about to say something, but is cut off by a sudden loud bang from above that has both of you look upwards.

"Ooh!" You immediately exclaim with enthusiasm as you follow the illumination of colours above. "Fireworks!" You lean into him, excitement quickly slipping from your face, however, when you notice the state he's in.

He's sitting as if petrified; stiff, glossy eyed, panting. His chest is heaving in shallow breaths and he stares at you with desperation.

"Bucky!" You cry out and immediately grab his pale cheeks, holding his face close to yours.

"Can't. Breathe," he's gulping for air, hands desperately clinging to your elbows.

"Look at me," you say and slowly heave in some air, trying hard to get him to match your breathing. "Focus on me," you exhale slowly.

His eyes flitters across your face but it works. He has his breathing under control within three deep breaths but then another loud bang sounds and he flinches.

"Come," you grab his hand and drag him inside to safety while he pants and whines behind you.

With the door kicked shut and your hands immediately on his cheeks again, you quietly remind him where he is. "You're safe, Bucky. It's just fireworks. You're safe here with me."

He clutches his heart as he slides down the wall behind him.

And when you hug him tightly, and over and over again remind him that he's safe, he slumps down against your shoulder and cries into your neck, holding onto you for dear life.

Day 40

Although he's been around you all day, Bucky hasn't uttered a single word directly to you since the panic attack the night before, so when he suddenly breaks the thick silence between you with a loud clearing of his throat, you immediately listen.

"Steve wants us to be friends," he says bluntly and completely out of context.

You look up from your book. "What?" You furrow your eyebrows. "- you don't think we're friends?"

"I - I don't know," he bites his inner cheek and finally looks at you for real, "I wasn't sure after the... you know."

"That changed nothing for me," you try to shrug nonchalantly although you want to shake him to make him understand. "You just panicked, Buck."

"Well who the fuck panics at fireworks?" he mumbles and looks awat, "you must think I'm fucking mental."

"Definitely not," you smile with a shake of your head. "I just think you have some invisible scars. That doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Mhh," he grunts without fully accepting your words. "I'm not sure I deserve your friendship," his mouth pulls to the side disapprovingly.

"You do," you put your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent. It's earthy and fresh; orange and cedar wood.

"So you don't think I'm.... off?" He asks quietly, lips close to your scalp. You can almost feel them vibrating.

"No, Buck," you smile with closed eyes, enjoying the close proximity. "I don't think you're off," you breathe in. Orange. Cedar wood. "Quite on the contrary. I like spending time with you."

He nods slowly while contemplating your words. "I - uh - I like spending time with you too."

"That makes me very happy to hear," you smile into his shoulder. "So you agree? We're friends?"

"Yeah," he nods and puts his chin on top of your head. "We can be friends."

Day 42

Steve's back from Boston with an injury.

"He took a blade to the glute so now he can't even walk," Bucky explains after coming back from visiting him in the med wing. "He says it's his hip but I just know it's because he's too decent to say ass in front of doctor Cho."

"Poor Steve," you wince while chuckling slightly at Bucky.

"Yeah... Even with the serum's recovery time, he figures he'll be out for the rest of the month."

"Well," you smile, "at least that means you finally found a legit way out of going on morning runs with him," you muse as you measure a cup of water for the dinner you're making the two of you.

"Yeah, thank fuck for that!" He agrees in relief, "I cannot listen to one more word about how much he loves bird song in the morning."

"God he's so old!" you laugh and switch your voice over in your best imitation of Steve, "Oh look over there, Bucky! A blue crested warbler!"

It's not even that funny but the voice you're making has Bucky laughing!

It's the first time since you first met him and, oh my god, if it isn't the most beautiful sound you've ever heard! The skin around his eyes crinkle softly, his head tilts backwards and he gives out a 'ha!' so loud you can see the back of his teeth.

You want to freeze this moment in time. To make him laugh at your stupid joke for an eternity while your stomach flips in slow motion.

Your own reaction to it perplexes you so much that the cup you're holding overflows.

Day 43

You've barely entered the gym before Bucky's let go of the bar he's doing pull ups in and has approached you to ask if you'll be his sparring partner for the day instead of Steve.

"Hip still a bust?"

Bucky nods and throws his grips to the ground. "What do you say?" He pants and wipes a drop of sweat from his temple. "We're both out of a partner. Might as well use each other as punch bags."

"Are you sure?" You arch an eyebrow while trying to ignore the sudden dryness of your inner cheek. "I mean; you look pretty beat already. How long have you been down here?"

"Couple of hours," he shrugs, "since breakfast."

"Since breakfast?"

Bucky shrugs again. "You were out."

"So you resorted to training for five plus hours because you were bored? I'm flattered Barnes."

He grins.

"- but yeah, sure, I guess I have time to throw you around for a bit," you wink at him and he grins again. It makes you feel warm. "But be warned, I might not be as good with a knife as you are but I'm faster than Steve and sneakier than Sam."

"So you say," he smiles and ties the small pony tail at the nape of his neck.

"Cute hair," you chuckle at him while you grab your makeshift dagger from your gym bag.

"A-har-har," he says sarcastically, "don't forget whose hairtie I'm wearing."

Day 46

He's sitting shirtless beside you, still panting from your daily sparring match, and you're trying your absolute hardest not to stare at the intricate scars that zigzag across his torso and comes to a blazingly red halt where flesh meets metal.

Over the last couple of sparring matches, you've thought to yourself more than once that he looks absolutely beautiful in all his scarred beauty.

"I talked to Steve this morning," he cuts the silence, thankfully giving you something else to think of other than tracing the red lines of his chiseled chest. "He's ready to start training again."

"Yeah?" you try and read his neutral expression. "Looks like morning laps around the lake are back on the menu for you then," you wink at him.

"Well at least I had eleven amazing days without bird watching," he jokes.

"I know you secretly love it," you smile, "- Okay, maybe not the bird-watching bit but the running at least."

"Yeah, it's fine," he leans forwards, puts his weight on his elbows an shoots you a glance. "So, what do you wanna do about us?"

Your stomach flips at the way he pronounces us. Like you're a unit.

Your voice suddenly seems raw. "What do you mean?" you smack your lips to bring them back to life.

It has Bucky follow your mouth intendedly.  "I mean, I guess you don't have to keep sparring with me now that Steve's back on the roster," he says, "I like sparring with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that -"

"Don't worry," you cut him off, relieved that you still have an excuse to be in this close proximity with him. "I like sparring with you too."

He smiles jokingly at you. "Even though I always win?"

"Even though you're always lucky," you chuckle, "and lets be honest, it's only because you fight dirty."

He sends you a puzzling look.

"As if taking off your shirt isn't a trick to get me weak in the knees!"

He gives you the loud 'ha!' you've been awarded with only a handful of times. It makes your stomach all warm and in the heat of the moment, you get the sudden urge to press your lips to his skin. To see if he tastes as good as he smells and feels and looks.

"Alright," he rolls his eyes and stands up from the bench with a groan that have your knees feel like rubber. "Come on, let's get back to me kicking your ass."

You look sceptically at the hand he's stretching out before you. "Will you be putting on your shirt to give me a fair chance?"

"No fucking way," he winks at you.

You flip him off.

Thankfully, it has him laughing again as he pulls you to your feet.

Day 49

"Sweetheart!" Steve exclaims excitedly as him and Bucky enter the living room at lunch time. "I haven't seen you in days!" He immediately strides around the table and hugs you while giving your cheek a brief kiss.

"Hey guys!" You smile at them and then turn towards Steve; "how's your butt?"

He shoots you a tired smile and you can tell from his face that's Bucky's already been giving him hell about his injury. "Butt's fine," he sighs and changes course. "How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Not much," you shrug, refraining from telling Steve that you've been spending almost every waking hour in Bucky's company.

"I hear you're kicking Bucky's ass," Steve chuckles.

"Well, he's a liar," you wink at Bucky who in return sends you the boyish smile that you love. "- He beats me at everything from shooting to stabbing. It's annoying."

"Don't listen to her, Stevie," Bucky protests with a smile as he crosses his bulky arms over his chest. God, you want to touch him! "She's doing fucking amazing."

"You know what?" you turn to Steve, "for someone so foul-mouthed, he's actually strangely polite!"

Steve laughs, "if you think that's bad, you should hear him when you're not around," he blows out a little air, "yikes!"

It has Bucky roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he chuckles, "lets not make it worse than it is."

"Come on Buck, you'd never use that kind of language in front of a beautiful dame," Steve grins.

"A beautiful dame?" you snicker at the old fashioned term. "Did you seriously just call me that?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckles and bumps his elbow against yours, "of course I think you're a beautiful dame."

"Gee thanks Steve," you grin, "that doesn't make me feel like a grandma at all," you look to Bucky for confirmation, but he awkwardly looks away.

Day 50

You and Bucky are watching the newest blockbuster on Netflix and have just arrived at the part where the final stand between the lead and the villain takes place, when in the middle of the tenacious battle, Bucky decides to talk.

"Is Steve your boyfriend?" He asks suddenly while following the burning helicopter debris on the screen in front of him.

You have a feeling that it's a question that's been nagging him since yesterday, but that he suddenly couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Steve?" You look over at him, a little perplexed. His eyes are glued to the screen in front of him and you're having a hard time figuring out if he's just embarrassed by the slightly prying question or if there's more to it. "- Why'd you think that?"

Bucky's face turns almost crimson. "I don't know," he says while pursing his lips but you have a strong feeling he knows exactly why. "You seem... cosy," he shrugs. There's a different tone behind the last word as if he had to struggle to even get it past his lips.

"We're just friends, Buck."

He stares ahead, body as tense as the first day you met him. "He thinks you're beautiful," he mumbles uncomfortably though he tries to hide it by feigning nonchalance. "And he's always kissing your face..."

"You should really ask Steve about that," you smile, "but no, there's nothing between us. Promise." You want to tell him that you only have eyes for him. That you want him to kiss you.

He gulps and flitters his gaze across your face, studies every angle while you follow his blue irises. Your stomach lurches, it's definitely the most intimate moment you've ever shared and you can feel the electricity between you.

 "Just for the record," he says quietly, "I think you're really pretty too."

Your throat tightens. It's suddenly hard to breathe. And before you've had a chance to react to his words, to take his lips between yours, he looks back at the screen and tightens his jaw.

You bet he's thinking of how much smoother this used to go.

Day 51

"Sooo," Sam sings as he playfully plumps down on the sofa next to you, "spill the tea!"

"...About?"

"Rumour has it that you and Bucky have the hots for each other." He pumps his eyebrows annoyingly. "Has he smooched you yet?"

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Because no, Bucky is taking things a little too slow for your liking and he hasn't smooched you yet though it's all you can think about when you're with him. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

He takes your bad attempt at dodging his question as confirmation. "Lucky guy!" He laughs, "seventy years on ice - God knows he must be excited to finally get a little sugar!"

You want to punch Sam.

Day 52

You've already gone to bed when there's a knock on your door.

"It's me," Bucky mumbles from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" You sit up straight and briefly fiddle with your pyjamas front even though you can tell by your bedside mirror that it looks fine.

He peers in from behind the door and you feel the familiar embers come to live inside of you when he shoots you an amused smile. "Nice PJ's," he cackles and and steps inside.

He looks amazing dressed from head to toe in his tactical suit complete with thigh strap and makeshift sniper rifle attached to his back.

"You're in your most comfortable outfit too, I can see," you grin and nod towards the grenade launcher he's holding. "What are you all dressed up for, sergeant Barnes?" 

He gives you a crooked smile at the old familiar name. "It's Tuesday," he brazenly waves the launcher in front of his face as if you're supposed to know what that means.

"Which means we have to sacrifice someone?" You joke.

"Steve and I usually do Tactical Tuesdays in our combat gear. But apparently, his ass is still sore," he grins and you can tell he has to hold back a laugh, "I - uh - I was wondering if you'd wanna come with me instead? Sorry, didn't realise how late it was."

"I'll come!" You say excitedly before he's even had the chance to finish his sentence. "Give me two seconds," you grab your tactical suit and bag of knives, quickly changing in the bathroom while Bucky patiently waits for you.

When you re-enter your quarters, knifes neatly arranged in the belt strapped around your waist and all, Bucky briefly forgets all about his manners and runs his eyes down your full length. You know you look good in the skin-tight suit, but even though you'd picked the all-black outfit for his pleasure, you're still surprised to have him so discomposed before you.

You clear your throat so his slate blue eyes snap back up to meet yours and he realises he's been caught red-handed. "Get a good look?" You smile at him.

"Fuck off," he grins with pink cheeks and turns his gaze away and opens the door for you. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you excitedly step past him and into the hallway, feeling his gaze burn on your backside.

"Okay I have to ask" you say as the elevator zooms towards the gym on the ground floor. "Is it really necessary with four guns? What are you compensating for?"

He smirks. "Says the woman who brought six knives."

"Touché," you laugh, "but if I know you correctly, you also have a few daggers tugged under your belt."

He smiles knowingly.

"How much do you reckon it takes to take me down when I'm in my tac suit?" You ask him, bemused. "Four guns and two daggers?"

He looks at you with an arched eyebrow.

"- And lets not forget about the grenade launcher," you chuckle as the elevator doors ping open. "Super handy for close combat."

"I'm just putting it in my locker," he rolls his eyes at you as he holds open the door to the gym. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh I would never," you grin and watch his broad backside as he dumps the launcher on the top shelf of his locker, picking up his switchblade instead. "What?" He chuckles when he turns around and sees your cocked eyebrows, "it's my weapon of choice."

"You are so only bringing that because you know I love your little knife flip."

He shakes his head with a grin as he leans down to tighten the laces of his right boot.

Just to have something other to do than stare at his muscular form, you adjust the white sportstape wrapped around your knuckles. You cannot wait for training to begin so you have something else to focus on.

"Okay," he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, tying the small pony tail that, in the time since you've come to know him, has turned into a bun. "Ready?"

"Come at me Barnes," you smile while taking on your fighting stance, parrying your face with your taped up fists.

He smiles at you briefly before he surprise-lunges forwards, ready to sweep you off your feet, but you know he fights aggressively and has seen it coming from miles away. Skilfully, you jump as high as you can, swinging your knee over his neck so you're sitting on top of his shoulders.

He crouches over before you've had a chance to yank his collar, makes you do a somersault over his head and throws you down on your back, immediately pressing his dull practise switchblade against your throat.

"Fuck!" You admit defeat.

"That's got to be a new record," he grins, "10 seconds."

"Dammit!"

"Come on," he offers you his hand and pull you to your feet, "let's go again."

"Alright," you take on your stance once more and try to read him, "you got lucky this time."

"Sure," he says and grins while skilfully swinging his switchblade so it swooshes in the air between you.

"Show off," you stick out your tongue and take advantage of his momentary grinning as you run towards him, slip down to your knees and slide between his legs, plunging your little white plastic dagger into his right calf so the blade disappears into the handle.

"Right side injury," you yell to make him simulate that he's hurt and kick his left leg in the hope that he will fall down.

But even off balance, he's sturdier than you think and keeps his stance, so you jump to your feet and charge at him again, this time jumping him on his front, forgetting that he has a vibranium arm as you try and injure his left shoulder.

"Shit!" You say through gritted teeth at the sound of metal clanging against metal.

He takes advantage of the added weight to his front and falls forward on purpose so you land on your back, knocking the wind out of you in the process.

He lands on his knees between your legs, and even though you have your ankles wrapped around his waist and your plastic knife inside his arm pit, his fake gun is out of its holster, and he's pointing it straight at your heart.

"Got you," he's panting hard as he studies your face, moving his torso a little closer to you, and you get the sudden feeling he's about to lean in and finally kiss you, so you tighten the grip your legs have around his waist, silently telling him to come closer. But he looks away and re-holsters his gun.

"That was better," he admits and stands up, holding out his hand for you to take. "Nice detail with the surprise kick."

With disappointment pooling in your stomach, you let him pull you up from the floor. "Mhm," you grunt. "And it would've worked too if it wasn't for your stupidly large feet."

"Sorry," he smiles, "Kick harder next time. Bust my fucking ankle" he winks at you.

"I'll bust your balls," you mutter, analysing the way he distributes his weight to predict how he'll move.

He laughs, "I love when you talk dirty to me!" He flips the daggers he's holding in each hand.

"God, you're so cocky right now!"

He grunts and readies himself for your attack, "I'll fucking show you."

Which he does. Two times more.

"Again!" You grunt in annoyance.

"How much more can you take?" He chuckles as you get in position for the fifth time.

"More," you parry your face again.

"Alright alright," he wipes his forehead on his wrist, "just gimme a second. I'm sweating balls."

"Don't you dare take off your shirt just to throw me off!"

"I would never!" he grins and grabs the neck of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, revealing glistening pecs and that small trail of hair that you've dreamt of licking.

"You're fucking infuriating, Barnes," you say while charging straight at his dumb smile, but he grabs you around the waist before you've even had the chance to react and throws you to the ground, unstrapping your knife belt in the process so you only have a single dagger left to defend yourself with.

He throws himself on top of you, pins your wrists over your head and incapacitates you by pressing his chest down on your lungs.

"Fuck!"

"Five seconds this time," he smirks. "You're slipping. Should've stayed in bed, huh?"

"Did your mom ever tell you how fucking annoying you are?" you wriggle to get loose but he merely tightens his grip. "Can't you just let me win once?"

"Can't help it. I love when you turn all aggressive."

"What happened to all the gentleman-crap you and Steve always advocate?"

"It went out the door when you starting cursing at me," he grins and pulls on your wrists so you stretch your shoulders with a small groan.

"Careful Barnes or I'm not gonna want to play with you anymore," you do another small wriggle to break free.

"I have a hard time believing that," he says and with a grin turns his gaze down the length of your neck again, fixes his eyes on your panting chest.

The electricity you've felt between you as of late swells and grows, settles in your chest cavity at the way his weight feels between your legs, his handsome face mere inches from yours. Voltage in your joined skin.

You study his every move as he briefly licks his lips and look back at you.

With your eyes locked on his, he gulps, suddenly uncomfortable. Neither of you say anything but the look he sends you speak volumes when he settles his gaze on your mouth.

"Bucky," you say tenderly and search his face in the hope that it will finally get him to kiss you, but it does the opposite. Instead, it looks as if he awakens from a trance.

He blinks twice, parts his lips as he carefully examines your expression and then he sends you an apologetic smile as he lets go of your wrists. "Sorry," he says and move away from you, stands up as he avoids your disappointed gaze. "Let's call it a night."

You have a hard time being as nonchalant as he is about the situation he just denied the both of you, and you jump to your feet with annoyance radiating from your entire being. "Hell no!" You protest as you clip on your knife belt again, "I'm not done with you."

"Sweetheart," he sighs pointedly with a raised eyebrow but the new nickname doesn't escape you and it takes the edge of the infuriation you feel.

"Don't sweetheart me," you say and bend down in your hips, balling your taped-up hands into fists. "Get in position. I'm gonna find your weak spot soon enough, Barnes."

"If you say so," he sighs in defeat. "Come on then," he lazily waves you forward and you run straight towards him, copying the manoeuvre from the first round by swinging your knee over his neck.

Again, he tries to throw you off by bending forwards, but this time you're holding on much tighter to him and you stay put. He slashes the plastic switchblade against your arm, yelling out "injury!" while throwing you off his shoulder again when you're not allowed to use your left arm to hold on to him any longer.

Luckily, you land on your feet so you kick his left arm, making the switch blade fly out of his grip and you spin again, this time fuelled by so much frustration towards him, that you kick him straight in the chest with so much force he immediately falls down.

He lands on his back with a thump while you land straddled across his chest, your face close to his, the small plastic dagger in your hand pressed tightly against his Adam's apple.

"Okay," he gulps and opens his palms to signify surrender, "this time, you have me. That kick was ballsy!" he grins boyishly. "Your flexibility always amazes me."

"Told you I'd find your weak spot," you pant with a proud smile on your lips, enjoying having him in his lying like this.

The knife is no longer pressed to his skin but neither of you are doing anything to move out of the position you're in, and when his eyes search your face and he lets out a small inaudible gulp, you lean forwards without thinking, finally claiming his lips in a hungry kiss.

He follows you immediately and it doesn't take long before your tongues are intertwined and his right hand is cradled around your chin.

"Bucky," you whisper against him and stretch out your arms over his head and you slink forwards, dragging your front over his.

"Mmh", he hums against you and sits up so you straddle his waist, presses his pelvis towards yours and kisses you again while he grabs you around the ribcage, scoots you closer to his. "You are my weak spot," he pants and pushes his tongue inside your mouth, lets his arousal grow.

You bury your fingers in his long hair, let him lick your neck while he groans beneath you. "Take off my clothes," you whisper in his ear and lick the shell of it. 

"Ah shit," he whispers against your skin and gives you a brief, wet kiss before he moves his head to get a better look at you. "You are so beautiful," he whispers and goes back to kiss your wanting lips, vibranium fingers slowly pulling down the zipper at the front of your suit, revealing your naked chest to him.

"Fuck me," he gulps when he looks down at the exposed skin between you, "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers and leans forwards, takes your nipple between his lips and kisses you sensually

"I'm crazy about you," you confess in a whisper and throw back your head as his hands become more wanting, his hips suddenly moving in small thrusts. "Fuck me Bucky," you fist his hair and hold him at an arms length while moving your hips to simulate you riding him which has him grunt a few excited times.

He looks at you with pupils blown wide, mouth falling open. "Oh my god, you are so dirty!"

"I want you so bad," you pad his erection through his cargo pants and he shoots back his head in response, the most beautifully sinful look etched on his face. "Take off your pants."

"Yeah," he grins and flips you onto your back, gives you a brief kiss before he stands up, unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants, kicking them and his boots off. He gives a raspy exhale when he sees you sitting on your knees before him, and he groans gutturally when you find the edge of him through his boxers and you trace the massive outline of him with your lips.

He takes a step closer to you, buries his hands in your hair as you kiss the trail of hair from his navel down and lick the muscles giving his torso a distinct V running down beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

"Sweetheart," he groans without looking away, tenderly holding your hair back so he can see your face as you kiss and lick him. "I've been dreaming of this."

"Me too," you trace his head underneath the dark fabric, suck a wet spot at the tip and cup his balls in your hands, letting your index finger slip back to touch his tight perineum.

"Jesus fuck, you are so fucking dirty," He shoots back his head with a groan, eyes suddenly fixating on something above you, but you ignore it.

You're about to pull down the last layer of fabric separating him from your mouth, when he takes a step back. "Hey, hey," he suddenly says in a different tone of voice and he puts his hands on your arm to get you to stop moving, eyes still fixated above you.

"Sweetheart," he looks down at you with a shocked expression as he takes one more step backwards while drying off saliva from the corner of his mouth. "Not here, okay?"

"Why not?"

"There's a camera pointing straight at us." He points over your head and you notice the red dot immediately.

You release the grip you have on him with a sigh. "Tony and his fucking security," you mumble.

He quietly helps you up and pulls on his pants while you zip up the front of your suit so you're decent again.

"So now what?" you grin a little awkwardly and take a step closer to him, hoping that he will suggest one of your bedrooms.

"Come on," he's suddenly serious as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the elevator, silently pointing out the security camera blinking angrily in the corner of the lift as you zoom up to your floor.

"Being cockblocked by a camera really wasn't on my bingo card for this year," you joke.

He smiles a little but you can tell it's forced and it doesn't change the frown he's sporting.

You both get off on your floor and he follows you to your quarters but doesn't follow you inside when you open the door.

"I should go," he furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" You turn around staring at him.

"The footage," he mumbles and his upper lip twitches. "I have to go destroy it."

"We can do so tomorrow," you smile at him and grab him around the waist, kissing his neck to try and coax him into continue where you left off.

"Might be too late then," he whispers.

"Bucky, come on. It's just Tony."

He leans forwards and for a brief moment, you're sure you have him convinced but then he presses his lips to your cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," he says quietly and with that, he's out the door.

His prescense lingers even after he's gone and all you can think about is what would've happened if he'd stayed.

Day 53

You'd listened to him pacing the floor of his quarters above you half the night before deciding on getting up yourself.

He didn't join your around 4 am as he usually does when neither of you are able to sleep, and at 7:30, Steve came down dressed in his running gear alone.

"What's up with Bucky?" He asks while scratching his beard. It's not something you've ever explicitly discussed before but of course he too has noticed how much time you've been spending together outside the ring.

"I don't know," you shrug and turn your attention back to the book you've been pretending to read for two hours straight.

Even with your eyes fixed on the yellowing pages in front of you, you can tell that Steve stops mid-motion. "...Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we did not," you scoff, "we're not children."

"I know. But you're both wearing the same long face, and he's usually occupying that chair - " he points to the bar stool opposite you, "- when he's making up bad excuses to spend more time with you instead of coming out for a run with me."

"I don't know what's up with him, Steve," you say pointedly, "I'm not his girlfriend!"

Steve puts his weight on his elbow and leans close so you can see his expression from the corner of your eyes. "Is that what this is about?" he asks quietly, "You want to be his girlfriend?"

Your cheeks light up and you determinedly fix your gaze on the first word of the page. "I'm not having this conversation with you," you mumble even though you know your cover is made.

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "I've already had it with Bucky."

Finally, your interest is piqued. You shoot Steve a nervous side eye. He's looking at you like a disappointed father. 

"...and?" You ask when he doesn't continue.

"I really don't think this is a conversation you should be having with me."

"Well you started it," you mumble and look back down again, flipping the page of your book even though you haven't read a single word.

Suddenly, Steve stands up straight. "Hey man," he says over your head and you don't have to turn you gaze to know who's just entered the room.

"Hey," you hear Bucky's voice from the doorway before he fully enters the room though he stays close to the exit.

"Right," Steve nods and pads your hand before pressing past Bucky, clapping his shoulder in the process.

Finally alone, Bucky takes two steps closer to you. "Hey, sweetheart," he mumbles quietly, hands buried in his pockets, "can we talk?"

You look up at him, the air between you thick. "Sure," you sigh but cross your arms over your chest.

He takes the bar stool next to you, drums his fingers against the steel kitchen counter, purses his lips. "Last night was -..." he trails off and closes his eyes in frustration when he cannot find the right words.

"Disappointing?" You say and cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he agrees honestly. "It was very disappointing. I'm sorry about that."

He looks sincere but you're not sure how to react. You want to accept his apology - to have him back on your side - but you need an explanation.

"It wasn't because I didn't enjoy it," he quietly continues, "- because trust me, I did," he sends you a pained look and you ease up on the defensive position you're holding yourself in as he carefully grabs your hands, kisses your knuckles tenderly. "I didn't lie when I said that I've been wanting it for quite some time," he looks at your joined hands and your heart cracks at the confession that Steve insinuated. "- been wanting you."

"Then why'd you leave?" You ask quietly.

His gaze crawls up to meet yours. "Truth be told, I got scared."

"Of... us?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. Of that camera."

"The camera?" you tilt your head to the side and search his face, "Honey, it's just Tony. I know there's bad blood between you, but he would never expose any of us."

"I know," he gulps. "It's more what the camera represents. Usually, I'm so aware."

"Of what?"

"Everything," he breathes as if it's a relief to say out loud. "It's like I told you; the serum enhances everything inside of you, dials everything up to fucking eleven. So in terms of combat and targeting enemies it's great, but when I'm with you, I don't feel anything else..."

You furrow your brows. You don't understand.

"Sweetheart... I can tell by the colour of the dust underneath Sam's shoes where he's been taking his latest date. I know when you're on your period just from the way you wash your hair. I know when Nat's talked to her sister last, when Steve's not sleeping - even when Coulson's wife's van needs an oil change. I'm aware of every emergency exit, surveillance measurement and guard change of every building I've entered in the past six months, but that camera last night? Sweetheart, I forgot it was there."

"Buck," You whisper achingly. "That's an awful lot to carry around."

"I know," he mumbles. "Being alert of everything has been my default for so long - a survival mechanism if you will - but last night, you were all I saw. And I got scared when I suddenly realised how easily you've made me put down my guard," he sighs. "That's why I left."

An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, you fiddle with the golden link that runs over the back of his left hand. "I know it scared you but I bet it must've felt good to let go too."

"You have no idea," he breathes out a sigh of relief. "But it's not easy to let go of something that's such an integral part of your way of living. Contemplated what to do all night."

"What did you conclude?" Your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

"That kissing you definitely beats remembering where every security camera in the compound is," he shoots you a careful smile. "Look I know I screwed up, and I know I should've kissed you weeks ago. And I'll probably still get scared of the effect you have on me from time to time," he moves a little, uncomfortable. " - but if you want me, I'm yours."

"If I still want you?" You smile at him, "you're all I want Buck. You know I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm in love with you too."

"I know," you bite your lower lip and search his face.

He moves a little closer to you, snakes his hands around your neck in quiet desperation and finally kisses you.

"Hey," you whisper in-between tender kisses. "Perhaps you wanna show me your room?"

"Yeah," he grins against your lips. "I wanna fucking show you the world."

He's been at the compound almost two weeks now, always following Steve around looking anxious and slightly beside himself as he tries his best to blend in with the wall behind him, flinching if someone comes a little too close or laughs a little too loudly near him. You've all noticed his nervous eyes constantly darting all over his surroundings, clearly checking for the nearest exit to make sure he can escape at just a moment's notice.

You also haven't heard him say much apart from his name when he first arrived and the occasional 'yes' or 'no' when Steve asks him stuff, but you've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you've got your attention directed elsewhere.

You wonder if he's having a hard time adjusting not only to his new home but also to the flourishing friendship between you and Steve, so you give both of them space to find each other again. After all, Steve is important to you, so by proxy, Bucky is too.

Day 19

Three weeks in and you're eating dinner by yourself in the kitchen when you hear footsteps from the hallway. 

"Smells like the kitchen's occupied right now," Steve's soft voice sounds from the other side of the wall before he's even shown himself in the doorframe, "come on, we'll just come back later."

"You can come in, it's okay," you call back over your plate of chicken tikka masala, excited to finally have an excuse to talk to Steve after weeks of almost complete radio-silence.

He pokes his head around the door frame. "You sure? We can wait 30 minutes until you're done - we don't mind, do we Buck?" He looks over his shoulder and you hear Bucky mumble something incoherently before Steve looks back at you with an apologetic smile.

"No, no please come in," you urge the two of them forwards with a wave of your fork, "it's been a quiet day, I would love some company."

"Well it does smell lovely in here," Steve smiles broadly and steps inside, immediately striding over to you by the dinner table while Bucky silently follows him.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve mutters happily and kisses the top of your head, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

"Hi Stevie," you lean into him and send Bucky what you hope is a disarming smile from over Steve's shoulder as he sits down at the far end of the table. He looks as if he'd rather be lying under a rock.

"I didn't want to impose on your big reunion," you explain, "I thought you guys needed some well-deserved time to reconcile."

Steve sends you a grateful look and starts emptying the fridge of vegetables.

"So what've you been up to today?" you ask as he pulls out a bag of chopped kale and a sad looking winter squash.

"Uhm, not much," Steve eyes the squash suspiciously. "Went for a run earlier, showed Buck around the gym. Had my ass handed to me in the ring, didn't I?" He laughs and looks over at Bucky who's sitting quietly between you like a polite child.

"I - I don't know about that," Bucky says uncomfortably and darts his eyes over to you, checking for your reaction.

You remember feeling like that; scared that others would be afraid of you if you showed them exactly what you were capable off. It makes your stomach ache.

"Come on Buck, you beat the living shit out of me," Steve laughs unknowingly and it makes Bucky's ears turn red and his mouth reduce to a thin white line.

"I hear you're skilled with a switchblade," you speak directly to Bucky, wanting to show him that you're neither afraid of him nor his capabilities. "I could use some pointers for close combat if you have any," you try to shrug as nonchalantly as humanly possible. "I usually spar with Sam or Steve but they're both terrible with knives!"

"It's true," Steve grins. "You're a better match for her, Buck."

Bucky's eyes dart between you and Steve but he doesn't reply.

"Say the word, and I'm yours for an afternoon, James," you smile.

Bucky grunts and uncomfortably slinks back in his chair.

Day 24

There's a strong burning sensation in your eyelids as you blink for the first time in what feels like hours and you turn your head to the side, only to realise the clock is up by a mere three minutes.

4:42

It's mocking you. Red digits staring at you in the dark, reminding you that you have exactly two hours and eighteen minutes before you have to be dressed for your weekly sparring match with Sam. You give out an involuntary groan at the thought and try placing yourself differently on the mattress although it feels like you've tried out every possible position already.

It's the third night in a row you haven't closed a single eye, and it's starting to drive you crazy! It's not as if you really have a job where you can afford an off day. Off days usually results in getting badly injured - or in worst cases; killed.

With yet another annoyed groan, you sit up straight on the mattress. 4:44.

"That's it," you mumble under your breath and swing your legs over the side of the bed frame, grabbing your wollen socks and your book in the process as you determinedly decide that you're not gonna waste the next few hours fretting over missing sleep.

The entire first floor is completely dark as you walk the empty hallway, so when you enter the living room, you're surprised to find another person already occupying the room.

"James?"

He's sitting in the big winged chair, his hair unruly, shoulders slumped, dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't even look up to greet you but keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of him as he gives out a tired grunt in response. The skin underneath his eyes is irritated and spotted, and you think to yourself that it looks like he's been crying. A lot.

"Are you okay?" You ask and he blinks a few times at the question but still doesn't look up.

"M'fine."

He looks awful and you cannot help but think to yourself that Steve definitely doesn't know about this. That if he did, he'd be sitting right here beside the man he's been missing like a piece of himself.

"How long have you been up?"

Bucky's eyes flicker to the clock above the door. "A while," he grunts and you get the immediate feeling that maybe he's never even gone to bed.

"Hmm," you nod, not sure what else to say. "Come, I'll make us coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"Well come anyway," you urge him.

His eyes meet yours for the first time and you guess he's considering how to gently turn you down, but after af couple of contemplative seconds, he finally sighs as he pushes himself up from the chair and reluctantly follows you. Even though he pulls the bill of his cap down towards his eyes, it feels like a victory. Thank god for his impeccable manners or he probably would've turned around and left altogether.

He sits down on the bar stool at the kitchen island and you pour both of you a mug of instant coffee.

Normally, he seems to thrive in silence but you've never seen him look more uncomfortable, so you decide on breaking the ice.

Carefully, you clear your throat and his eyes immediately dart towards you. He already looks sick of the question you haven't even asked him yet, but still, you continue.

"You're on the ninth floor, right? Next to Sam."

He nods.

"Have you settled in nicely?"

"Mhm," he grunts.

"I live on the floor below. Sandwiched between Steve and Nat."

"Okay," he nods, probably wondering why you won't just leave him alone.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," he hesitates and sighs in slight annoyance when he realises that his short answers aren't going to keep you from yapping away. "People here are nice. I guess," he gives in with a shrug.

You chuckle and watch as he takes a sip of the coffee and scrunches up his nose, looking at the coffee as if it's offended him.

"I don't know if you know this-" you say as you finally look away from him now that you have a reason to continue the conversation, "- but I'm actually quite new to the compound too. I've only been here about six months."

"Steve told me," Bucky nods and tries to hide that his fleeting eyes are studying your every movement. "He talks a lot about you."

It makes you smile. "He talks a lot about you too."

Bucky follows the movement of your fingers as they tap the rim of the mug in front of you but doesn't say anything.

Entertained by how he studies you, you slowly bring the cup to your lips. "Where is Steve?" You ask him and take a sip.

Bucky's eyes briefly catch yours again and a thin line immediately appears between his dark eyebrows. "In bed," he grunts, "- why?"

"Does he know you're-"

"He's not my babysitter," he cuts you off pointedly.

"I know," you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I was just wondering if he knows you're not sleeping. There are remedies for insomnia these days, you know."

His eyes seem to stare straight through to your soul. "Like coffee?" he grunts, challenging you.

It makes you chuckle. "Touché!"

The muscles on his forehead seem to relax a little now that he's figured out you can take a joke. "No, he doesn't know," he mumbles and looks away. "He has enough to deal with being Captain America and all. I don't want to burden him more than I already have."

"I see," you nod and go back to your coffee, thinking to yourself that Bucky might no longer be the great charmer Steve's told you stories about, but he's definitely a good man. Perhaps with some humour in there if you dig deep enough.

"Are you going to tell him?" He asks with slate blue eyes coming back up to stare right through you once more. He's challenging you again.

"Don't see why I would," you shrug. You want to show him that you can be trusted. That he doesn't have to rely on Steve alone.

He stares at you intensely a couple of seconds before his face fades back to neutral, but you see the way the tension of his shoulders eases just a fraction. Finally, he's disarmed.

"How do you like the coffee?" You ask, pleased to see that you've passed his tests.

His probing eyes direct the attention to the Falcon mug in front of him. "It tastes like ass," he grunts sincerely and stares disprovingly at the mug.

It makes you laugh.

Day 25

It's 5:23 when you hear dragging feet shuffling in the hallway. They stop right outside the kitchen door but nobody enters.

You know who it is, and you know he's currently contemplating going back to his quarters so he doesn't have to talk to you, but you decide on ruining his plan.

"You can come in," you say cheerily but the door stays immobile for a second or two before a heavy sigh sounds and he gently pushes it open.

Once again, you're thankful for his impeccable manners.

"Good morning," you say cheerily and turn off the heat to the pot on the stove.

"Mornin'," he mumbles while giving off an aura of slight annoyance, but you catch the brief interested look he shoots the eggs sizzling in front of you.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask as you plate your breakfast and sit down opposite him.

"I didn't."

"Me neither," you muse. "Are you hungry?" You ask him altough you know he is. He didn't show up for team dinner last night.

His eyes dart from yours, down to the shakshuka between you and back up again. He gives you a curt shake of his head but his stomach gives him away by growling.

"Come," you smile and hand him an extra fork, "we'll share mine."

He hesitates.

"- come on, I can tell you’re hungry."

"I’ll wait for Steve," he mumbles, "I don't want to ruin your breakfast."

"What are you talking about? I was lonely until you joined me," you push your plate towards him. "Let me do something nice for you in return."

He looks at you perplexed as if he isn't sure how to respond to your kindness. Slowly, he casts his eyes downwards so they scan the red sauce and eggs between you instead. "I don't know what it is."

"Try some," you offer him a reassuring smile.

You cannot decide whether he looks more curious or annoyed. "Okay. Thank you," he mumbles quietly and takes a small amount of sauce and eggs on his fork, carefully inserting it in his mouth. "It's spicy!" He furrows his brows and looks at you as if you've just tried to poison him, and before you can even react, his eyes widen. "Jesus FUCK!" He coughs.

You have to hold back a splutter of laughter at his sudden cursing. "Sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

He takes a gulp of water. "Fuck me!"

You chuckle, "Are you okay?"

He sucks in some air and waves his hand dismissively between you.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry," you full on laugh and catch his desperate eye as he takes another big gulp of water, "I always make it too spicy for Steve too."

"Shit," he wheezes and looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you grin with tears in your own eyes, "I can make you something else."

"No, I like it," he continues coughing a little, "- I think."

"You think?" You laugh.

"I just didn't even know food could taste like this," he purses his lips and suck in some cooling air while eyeing the shakshuka between you. "For the past seventy years, I've only had stew and potatoes."

"Mmh," you sigh with a suddenly serious frown, and for a second, Bucky looks as if he's scared he's said something god-awful wrong but you interrupt him before his mind starts to wander. "Sorry - it's just: I remember that all too well. Eating the same thing over and over again. Personally, I haven't touched beets since I escaped."

He freezes slightly in his chair "...Escaped?"

You nod, "yeah. I was trained under the Soviet Armed Forces."

Bucky's gaze tells you that he's well-aware of the things you must've endured. "...Oh," he puts down the fork he's been holding.

"Yeah. Thank god I knew Natasha or I would probably still be stuck in Moscow."

"Hmm," he furrows his eyebrows. "I was told stories about Operation Red Room back when I was..." he clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and you refrain from telling him that you heard stories about him too. That from a young age, you'd been told that the Winter Soldier would come in the night if you didn't practise your ballet. "- You were... brainwashed too?" His eyes find yours.

You nod slowly. It seems you've finally found common ground.

He furrows his brows. "But you're normal?" he states matter-of-factly and immediately looks embarrassed by himself.

You smile at his expression. "Just as normal as you I guess."

Bucky's mouth twitches a little as he offers you the first hint of a smile you've ever seen on his face. It's hesitant, but it's there. And it lingers when he goes in for a second bite of your breakfast.

Day 30

Last night at dinner, Steve had told you that Bucky was having one of his more 'gloomier weeks' (his words) and that he would neither leave the bed nor have anything to eat no matter how much Steve tried to coax him.

Of course you haven't mentioned to anybody that you've shared your breakfast with Bucky every early morning for the past week, getting a chance to talk to him before he sneaks back to his room as the rest of the compound starts waking up, so when his pale cheeks suddenly appear behind Steve's back not even 30 minutes after you've wished him a good day, you try not to make too much of a fuss about it.

"Mornin' guys," you smile at them from over your coffee cup. They're both dressed in running gear with a huge Captain America logo on the front and you smile a little at how Bucky looks like he's about to hurl himself off of the nearest cliff. Your eyes meet his as he unsuccessfully tries to smooth back his long hair. "- Doing anything fun?"

"Thought we'd take some laps around the lake, didn't we Buck?" Steve smiles and pushes Bucky forwards so they're at the same level.

Bucky merely grunts, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"Sounds lovely," you sip your coffee, happy that you haven't come up with the same insane idea.

"Yeah, it's the first day of spring and the sun is finally out!" Steve sighs lovingly while Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly annoyed by Steve's peppy morning routine. "-Wanna join?"

"Oh absolutely not," you splutter with a laugh. "This is your insane idea. Don't drag me into it."

It makes Bucky's upper lip twitch familiarly as he tries smoothing back his long hair again.

"Big Captain America fan?" You joke as you nod towards the giant star on Bucky's chest.

Luckily, he doesn't miss a beat and picks it up immediately; "not really," he says in a sour tone of voice, "I'm only wearing this because they were all out of Iron Man shirts."

It makes both you and Steve laugh and Bucky sweeps back his hair again, for a brief moment looking proud of himself.

You're still grinning as you lock eyes with him and hand him the hairtie from around your wrist. "Here," you say as you wobble it in the air between you "to keep your hair out of your eyes."

Bucky hesitates as he looks between you and the black elastic band.

"It's a game changer, trust me," you grin and once again urges him to take it.

He's still hesitating when he takes a step forwards and grabs it from your hand, slowly tying the smallest ponytail you've ever seen at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, James," you smile at him and he briefly smiles back before his expression fades to neutral again.

With pink cheeks, he looks at you while nervously shifting his weight around on his feet. "You can... call me Bucky if you'd like."

You smile at him and he carefully returns your smile. He's actually quite cute. "Okay Bucky," you nod, "I'd like that."

Steve looks as if he might burst from joy.

Day 34

Four days later, Bucky sits down next to you on the sofa. It's the first time during the day he isn't following Steve around like a dark shadow and it really suits him to be this independant.

"Hello," he says carefully.

"Hey Buck, what's up," you greet him and put down your book.

"I was thinking," he starts off slowly while fidgeting with the metal plates of his left hand. "If maybe you'd wanna show me one of those movies you were talking about at dinner the other night?"

"Yeah," you immediately grin and have to hide your excitement of finally having him seek you out voluntarily. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, already much more relaxed. "I don't really know any movies apart from Bambi and I doubt that's still a hit."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh and turn on the Netflix app, ready to show him your favourite movie. "Get cozy," you throw him a blanket, "I know exactly where to start."

He nods and carefully unfolds the blanket as he directs his attention to the title on the movie displayed on the screen. There's something heartwarming about seeing the world's most deadly assassin wrapped in plaid, sitting stiff as a trunk with his hands folded neatly in his lap, but you make sure not to look too obvious as you smile widely.

As the movie plays, you carefully watch his reactions to make sure he's thoroughly entertained, but even though he doesn't laugh at the funny parts, he still assures you that he liked it when the movie ends.

"You don't have to say that if you don't mean it."

"Okay," he chuckles so beautifully your stomach lurches forwards, "- maybe I would have liked to change some things around, but overall, I liked it."

"Okay, good," you smile.

"Maybe you can show me all your favourite movies?" He tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"I'd like that, Buck"

Day 37

"Hey sweetheart, I have a favour to ask you," Steve says when he catches you coming back from the bathroom during a movie break. He's dressed in tactical gear from head to toe, carrying his shield on his back and talking in his serious, low voice as he pulls you to the side so no one can hear the two of you. "I have to go with Tony to Boston for a few days. It's an emergency," he sighs, "do you think you could keep an eye on Bucky until I get back? Make sure he gets something to eat, that he comes out of his room. Stuff like that."

You look over Steve's shoulder and see Bucky sitting on the sofa, looking at you curiously from over the back. You feel a pang in your heart when you see his anxious face, and you almost get offended on his behalf. Over the last few days, he's really been showing progression. "I don't mind keeping him company," you turn your attention back to Steve, "but don't you think he deserves a little more credit?"

"I know, it's just -" Steve winces, "- I'm still a bit worried about him and it would really ease my mind to know you'll help out. Please, I have to leave in a bit."

"Just go. Don't worry, we'll have fun."

"You're the best," he grabs your hands and kisses your knuckles. "Thank you," he says and adjusts the strap over his shoulder before he waves at Bucky and heads out the door.

When you sit back down on the sofa again, Bucky's weirdly distant.

"What did Steve want?" he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You turn your gaze towards him, scan his face and feel the same pang in your heart as before. "Honestly?" You sigh, "he wants me to keep an eye on you."

The colour in Bucky's cheeks drains so he becomes more pale than you've ever seen him. "So now you're babysitting me too?"

"Nope," you say unceremoniously and press play on the remote. "I told him to fuck off."

He smiles at that.

Day 39

It's almost midnight and you and Bucky are sitting outside on lawn chairs with cups of steaming hot tea cradled in your hands as you quietly look up at the stars above you. Normally, you like talking and could do so for hours, but lately, you've come to enjoy the quiet hours in Bucky's company too.

You give out a content sigh and briefly turn your gaze towards him as he studies the constellations above you.

Even though the March air is so cold you've put on several layers of wool just to be able to sit outside, he's only wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, his thick bicep bulging nicely against the black hem. You wonder what he might look like with his shirt off.

"You're staring," he mumbles, a cloud of vapour escaping him as he breathes against the chilly air.

"Sorry," you chuckle and look away, slightly embarrassed by your unsolicited staring. "I just can't really believe you're not cold."

"Serum," he mutters matter-of-factly.

"Wish I had some of that," you sigh and snuggle further down into your scarf.

"Trust me, you really don't."

"Why not?"

"You ever been over-stimulated? It's like that."

"Mmh," you nod. "All the time?"

"Pretty much."

"What does it feel like?"

He shrugs, "neurons firing. Like everything's dialed up to eleven. Summers are unbearable. Loud noises even more so. Annoying people become three times as annoying," he shoots you an amused side-eye and you can tell he's about to make a joke. "Just imagine what I go through with Sam."

"Eat a bag of dicks, Wilson," you repeat the words you heard Bucky mutter the other day when it was suggested that he switch out a protein bar for a can of tuna.

He smiles at you. "You heard that, huh?"

"Just because Sam chose to ignore you, doesn't mean the rest of us didn't hear you being crass."

"Sorry," he grins.

"I can take it."

"I know you can," he arches an eyebrow, about to say something, but is cut off by a sudden loud bang from above that has both of you look upwards.

"Ooh!" You immediately exclaim with enthusiasm as you follow the illumination of colours above. "Fireworks!" You lean into him, excitement quickly slipping from your face, however, when you notice the state he's in.

He's sitting as if petrified; stiff, glossy eyed, panting. His chest is heaving in shallow breaths and he stares at you with desperation.

"Bucky!" You cry out and immediately grab his pale cheeks, holding his face close to yours.

"Can't. Breathe," he's gulping for air, hands desperately clinging to your elbows.

"Look at me," you say and slowly heave in some air, trying hard to get him to match your breathing. "Focus on me," you exhale slowly.

His eyes flitters across your face but it works. He has his breathing under control within three deep breaths but then another loud bang sounds and he flinches.

"Come," you grab his hand and drag him inside to safety while he pants and whines behind you.

With the door kicked shut and your hands immediately on his cheeks again, you quietly remind him where he is. "You're safe, Bucky. It's just fireworks. You're safe here with me."

He clutches his heart as he slides down the wall behind him.

And when you hug him tightly, and over and over again remind him that he's safe, he slumps down against your shoulder and cries into your neck, holding onto you for dear life.

Day 40

Although he's been around you all day, Bucky hasn't uttered a single word directly to you since the panic attack the night before, so when he suddenly breaks the thick silence between you with a loud clearing of his throat, you immediately listen.

"Steve wants us to be friends," he says bluntly and completely out of context.

You look up from your book. "What?" You furrow your eyebrows. "- you don't think we're friends?"

"I - I don't know," he bites his inner cheek and finally looks at you for real, "I wasn't sure after the... you know."

"That changed nothing for me," you try to shrug nonchalantly although you want to shake him to make him understand. "You just panicked, Buck."

"Well who the fuck panics at fireworks?" he mumbles and looks awat, "you must think I'm fucking mental."

"Definitely not," you smile with a shake of your head. "I just think you have some invisible scars. That doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Mhh," he grunts without fully accepting your words. "I'm not sure I deserve your friendship," his mouth pulls to the side disapprovingly.

"You do," you put your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent. It's earthy and fresh; orange and cedar wood.

"So you don't think I'm.... off?" He asks quietly, lips close to your scalp. You can almost feel them vibrating.

"No, Buck," you smile with closed eyes, enjoying the close proximity. "I don't think you're off," you breathe in. Orange. Cedar wood. "Quite on the contrary. I like spending time with you."

He nods slowly while contemplating your words. "I - uh - I like spending time with you too."

"That makes me very happy to hear," you smile into his shoulder. "So you agree? We're friends?"

"Yeah," he nods and puts his chin on top of your head. "We can be friends."

Day 42

Steve's back from Boston with an injury.

"He took a blade to the glute so now he can't even walk," Bucky explains after coming back from visiting him in the med wing. "He says it's his hip but I just know it's because he's too decent to say ass in front of doctor Cho."

"Poor Steve," you wince while chuckling slightly at Bucky.

"Yeah... Even with the serum's recovery time, he figures he'll be out for the rest of the month."

"Well," you smile, "at least that means you finally found a legit way out of going on morning runs with him," you muse as you measure a cup of water for the dinner you're making the two of you.

"Yeah, thank fuck for that!" He agrees in relief, "I cannot listen to one more word about how much he loves bird song in the morning."

"God he's so old!" you laugh and switch your voice over in your best imitation of Steve, "Oh look over there, Bucky! A blue crested warbler!"

It's not even that funny but the voice you're making has Bucky laughing!

It's the first time since you first met him and, oh my god, if it isn't the most beautiful sound you've ever heard! The skin around his eyes crinkle softly, his head tilts backwards and he gives out a 'ha!' so loud you can see the back of his teeth.

You want to freeze this moment in time. To make him laugh at your stupid joke for an eternity while your stomach flips in slow motion.

Your own reaction to it perplexes you so much that the cup you're holding overflows.

Day 43

You've barely entered the gym before Bucky's let go of the bar he's doing pull ups in and has approached you to ask if you'll be his sparring partner for the day instead of Steve.

"Hip still a bust?"

Bucky nods and throws his grips to the ground. "What do you say?" He pants and wipes a drop of sweat from his temple. "We're both out of a partner. Might as well use each other as punch bags."

"Are you sure?" You arch an eyebrow while trying to ignore the sudden dryness of your inner cheek. "I mean; you look pretty beat already. How long have you been down here?"

"Couple of hours," he shrugs, "since breakfast."

"Since breakfast?"

Bucky shrugs again. "You were out."

"So you resorted to training for five plus hours because you were bored? I'm flattered Barnes."

He grins.

"- but yeah, sure, I guess I have time to throw you around for a bit," you wink at him and he grins again. It makes you feel warm. "But be warned, I might not be as good with a knife as you are but I'm faster than Steve and sneakier than Sam."

"So you say," he smiles and ties the small pony tail at the nape of his neck.

"Cute hair," you chuckle at him while you grab your makeshift dagger from your gym bag.

"A-har-har," he says sarcastically, "don't forget whose hairtie I'm wearing."

Day 46

He's sitting shirtless beside you, still panting from your daily sparring match, and you're trying your absolute hardest not to stare at the intricate scars that zigzag across his torso and comes to a blazingly red halt where flesh meets metal.

Over the last couple of sparring matches, you've thought to yourself more than once that he looks absolutely beautiful in all his scarred beauty.

"I talked to Steve this morning," he cuts the silence, thankfully giving you something else to think of other than tracing the red lines of his chiseled chest. "He's ready to start training again."

"Yeah?" you try and read his neutral expression. "Looks like morning laps around the lake are back on the menu for you then," you wink at him.

"Well at least I had eleven amazing days without bird watching," he jokes.

"I know you secretly love it," you smile, "- Okay, maybe not the bird-watching bit but the running at least."

"Yeah, it's fine," he leans forwards, puts his weight on his elbows an shoots you a glance. "So, what do you wanna do about us?"

Your stomach flips at the way he pronounces us. Like you're a unit.

Your voice suddenly seems raw. "What do you mean?" you smack your lips to bring them back to life.

It has Bucky follow your mouth intendedly.  "I mean, I guess you don't have to keep sparring with me now that Steve's back on the roster," he says, "I like sparring with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that -"

"Don't worry," you cut him off, relieved that you still have an excuse to be in this close proximity with him. "I like sparring with you too."

He smiles jokingly at you. "Even though I always win?"

"Even though you're always lucky," you chuckle, "and lets be honest, it's only because you fight dirty."

He sends you a puzzling look.

"As if taking off your shirt isn't a trick to get me weak in the knees!"

He gives you the loud 'ha!' you've been awarded with only a handful of times. It makes your stomach all warm and in the heat of the moment, you get the sudden urge to press your lips to his skin. To see if he tastes as good as he smells and feels and looks.

"Alright," he rolls his eyes and stands up from the bench with a groan that have your knees feel like rubber. "Come on, let's get back to me kicking your ass."

You look sceptically at the hand he's stretching out before you. "Will you be putting on your shirt to give me a fair chance?"

"No fucking way," he winks at you.

You flip him off.

Thankfully, it has him laughing again as he pulls you to your feet.

Day 49

"Sweetheart!" Steve exclaims excitedly as him and Bucky enter the living room at lunch time. "I haven't seen you in days!" He immediately strides around the table and hugs you while giving your cheek a brief kiss.

"Hey guys!" You smile at them and then turn towards Steve; "how's your butt?"

He shoots you a tired smile and you can tell from his face that's Bucky's already been giving him hell about his injury. "Butt's fine," he sighs and changes course. "How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Not much," you shrug, refraining from telling Steve that you've been spending almost every waking hour in Bucky's company.

"I hear you're kicking Bucky's ass," Steve chuckles.

"Well, he's a liar," you wink at Bucky who in return sends you the boyish smile that you love. "- He beats me at everything from shooting to stabbing. It's annoying."

"Don't listen to her, Stevie," Bucky protests with a smile as he crosses his bulky arms over his chest. God, you want to touch him! "She's doing fucking amazing."

"You know what?" you turn to Steve, "for someone so foul-mouthed, he's actually strangely polite!"

Steve laughs, "if you think that's bad, you should hear him when you're not around," he blows out a little air, "yikes!"

It has Bucky roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he chuckles, "lets not make it worse than it is."

"Come on Buck, you'd never use that kind of language in front of a beautiful dame," Steve grins.

"A beautiful dame?" you snicker at the old fashioned term. "Did you seriously just call me that?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckles and bumps his elbow against yours, "of course I think you're a beautiful dame."

"Gee thanks Steve," you grin, "that doesn't make me feel like a grandma at all," you look to Bucky for confirmation, but he awkwardly looks away.

Day 50

You and Bucky are watching the newest blockbuster on Netflix and have just arrived at the part where the final stand between the lead and the villain takes place, when in the middle of the tenacious battle, Bucky decides to talk.

"Is Steve your boyfriend?" He asks suddenly while following the burning helicopter debris on the screen in front of him.

You have a feeling that it's a question that's been nagging him since yesterday, but that he suddenly couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Steve?" You look over at him, a little perplexed. His eyes are glued to the screen in front of him and you're having a hard time figuring out if he's just embarrassed by the slightly prying question or if there's more to it. "- Why'd you think that?"

Bucky's face turns almost crimson. "I don't know," he says while pursing his lips but you have a strong feeling he knows exactly why. "You seem... cosy," he shrugs. There's a different tone behind the last word as if he had to struggle to even get it past his lips.

"We're just friends, Buck."

He stares ahead, body as tense as the first day you met him. "He thinks you're beautiful," he mumbles uncomfortably though he tries to hide it by feigning nonchalance. "And he's always kissing your face..."

"You should really ask Steve about that," you smile, "but no, there's nothing between us. Promise." You want to tell him that you only have eyes for him. That you want him to kiss you.

He gulps and flitters his gaze across your face, studies every angle while you follow his blue irises. Your stomach lurches, it's definitely the most intimate moment you've ever shared and you can feel the electricity between you.

 "Just for the record," he says quietly, "I think you're really pretty too."

Your throat tightens. It's suddenly hard to breathe. And before you've had a chance to react to his words, to take his lips between yours, he looks back at the screen and tightens his jaw.

You bet he's thinking of how much smoother this used to go.

Day 51

"Sooo," Sam sings as he playfully plumps down on the sofa next to you, "spill the tea!"

"...About?"

"Rumour has it that you and Bucky have the hots for each other." He pumps his eyebrows annoyingly. "Has he smooched you yet?"

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Because no, Bucky is taking things a little too slow for your liking and he hasn't smooched you yet though it's all you can think about when you're with him. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

He takes your bad attempt at dodging his question as confirmation. "Lucky guy!" He laughs, "seventy years on ice - God knows he must be excited to finally get a little sugar!"

You want to punch Sam.

Day 52

You've already gone to bed when there's a knock on your door.

"It's me," Bucky mumbles from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" You sit up straight and briefly fiddle with your pyjamas front even though you can tell by your bedside mirror that it looks fine.

He peers in from behind the door and you feel the familiar embers come to live inside of you when he shoots you an amused smile. "Nice PJ's," he cackles and and steps inside.

He looks amazing dressed from head to toe in his tactical suit complete with thigh strap and makeshift sniper rifle attached to his back.

"You're in your most comfortable outfit too, I can see," you grin and nod towards the grenade launcher he's holding. "What are you all dressed up for, sergeant Barnes?" 

He gives you a crooked smile at the old familiar name. "It's Tuesday," he brazenly waves the launcher in front of his face as if you're supposed to know what that means.

"Which means we have to sacrifice someone?" You joke.

"Steve and I usually do Tactical Tuesdays in our combat gear. But apparently, his ass is still sore," he grins and you can tell he has to hold back a laugh, "I - uh - I was wondering if you'd wanna come with me instead? Sorry, didn't realise how late it was."

"I'll come!" You say excitedly before he's even had the chance to finish his sentence. "Give me two seconds," you grab your tactical suit and bag of knives, quickly changing in the bathroom while Bucky patiently waits for you.

When you re-enter your quarters, knifes neatly arranged in the belt strapped around your waist and all, Bucky briefly forgets all about his manners and runs his eyes down your full length. You know you look good in the skin-tight suit, but even though you'd picked the all-black outfit for his pleasure, you're still surprised to have him so discomposed before you.

You clear your throat so his slate blue eyes snap back up to meet yours and he realises he's been caught red-handed. "Get a good look?" You smile at him.

"Fuck off," he grins with pink cheeks and turns his gaze away and opens the door for you. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you excitedly step past him and into the hallway, feeling his gaze burn on your backside.

"Okay I have to ask" you say as the elevator zooms towards the gym on the ground floor. "Is it really necessary with four guns? What are you compensating for?"

He smirks. "Says the woman who brought six knives."

"Touché," you laugh, "but if I know you correctly, you also have a few daggers tugged under your belt."

He smiles knowingly.

"How much do you reckon it takes to take me down when I'm in my tac suit?" You ask him, bemused. "Four guns and two daggers?"

He looks at you with an arched eyebrow.

"- And lets not forget about the grenade launcher," you chuckle as the elevator doors ping open. "Super handy for close combat."

"I'm just putting it in my locker," he rolls his eyes at you as he holds open the door to the gym. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh I would never," you grin and watch his broad backside as he dumps the launcher on the top shelf of his locker, picking up his switchblade instead. "What?" He chuckles when he turns around and sees your cocked eyebrows, "it's my weapon of choice."

"You are so only bringing that because you know I love your little knife flip."

He shakes his head with a grin as he leans down to tighten the laces of his right boot.

Just to have something other to do than stare at his muscular form, you adjust the white sportstape wrapped around your knuckles. You cannot wait for training to begin so you have something else to focus on.

"Okay," he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, tying the small pony tail that, in the time since you've come to know him, has turned into a bun. "Ready?"

"Come at me Barnes," you smile while taking on your fighting stance, parrying your face with your taped up fists.

He smiles at you briefly before he surprise-lunges forwards, ready to sweep you off your feet, but you know he fights aggressively and has seen it coming from miles away. Skilfully, you jump as high as you can, swinging your knee over his neck so you're sitting on top of his shoulders.

He crouches over before you've had a chance to yank his collar, makes you do a somersault over his head and throws you down on your back, immediately pressing his dull practise switchblade against your throat.

"Fuck!" You admit defeat.

"That's got to be a new record," he grins, "10 seconds."

"Dammit!"

"Come on," he offers you his hand and pull you to your feet, "let's go again."

"Alright," you take on your stance once more and try to read him, "you got lucky this time."

"Sure," he says and grins while skilfully swinging his switchblade so it swooshes in the air between you.

"Show off," you stick out your tongue and take advantage of his momentary grinning as you run towards him, slip down to your knees and slide between his legs, plunging your little white plastic dagger into his right calf so the blade disappears into the handle.

"Right side injury," you yell to make him simulate that he's hurt and kick his left leg in the hope that he will fall down.

But even off balance, he's sturdier than you think and keeps his stance, so you jump to your feet and charge at him again, this time jumping him on his front, forgetting that he has a vibranium arm as you try and injure his left shoulder.

"Shit!" You say through gritted teeth at the sound of metal clanging against metal.

He takes advantage of the added weight to his front and falls forward on purpose so you land on your back, knocking the wind out of you in the process.

He lands on his knees between your legs, and even though you have your ankles wrapped around his waist and your plastic knife inside his arm pit, his fake gun is out of its holster, and he's pointing it straight at your heart.

"Got you," he's panting hard as he studies your face, moving his torso a little closer to you, and you get the sudden feeling he's about to lean in and finally kiss you, so you tighten the grip your legs have around his waist, silently telling him to come closer. But he looks away and re-holsters his gun.

"That was better," he admits and stands up, holding out his hand for you to take. "Nice detail with the surprise kick."

With disappointment pooling in your stomach, you let him pull you up from the floor. "Mhm," you grunt. "And it would've worked too if it wasn't for your stupidly large feet."

"Sorry," he smiles, "Kick harder next time. Bust my fucking ankle" he winks at you.

"I'll bust your balls," you mutter, analysing the way he distributes his weight to predict how he'll move.

He laughs, "I love when you talk dirty to me!" He flips the daggers he's holding in each hand.

"God, you're so cocky right now!"

He grunts and readies himself for your attack, "I'll fucking show you."

Which he does. Two times more.

"Again!" You grunt in annoyance.

"How much more can you take?" He chuckles as you get in position for the fifth time.

"More," you parry your face again.

"Alright alright," he wipes his forehead on his wrist, "just gimme a second. I'm sweating balls."

"Don't you dare take off your shirt just to throw me off!"

"I would never!" he grins and grabs the neck of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, revealing glistening pecs and that small trail of hair that you've dreamt of licking.

"You're fucking infuriating, Barnes," you say while charging straight at his dumb smile, but he grabs you around the waist before you've even had the chance to react and throws you to the ground, unstrapping your knife belt in the process so you only have a single dagger left to defend yourself with.

He throws himself on top of you, pins your wrists over your head and incapacitates you by pressing his chest down on your lungs.

"Fuck!"

"Five seconds this time," he smirks. "You're slipping. Should've stayed in bed, huh?"

"Did your mom ever tell you how fucking annoying you are?" you wriggle to get loose but he merely tightens his grip. "Can't you just let me win once?"

"Can't help it. I love when you turn all aggressive."

"What happened to all the gentleman-crap you and Steve always advocate?"

"It went out the door when you starting cursing at me," he grins and pulls on your wrists so you stretch your shoulders with a small groan.

"Careful Barnes or I'm not gonna want to play with you anymore," you do another small wriggle to break free.

"I have a hard time believing that," he says and with a grin turns his gaze down the length of your neck again, fixes his eyes on your panting chest.

The electricity you've felt between you as of late swells and grows, settles in your chest cavity at the way his weight feels between your legs, his handsome face mere inches from yours. Voltage in your joined skin.

You study his every move as he briefly licks his lips and look back at you.

With your eyes locked on his, he gulps, suddenly uncomfortable. Neither of you say anything but the look he sends you speak volumes when he settles his gaze on your mouth.

"Bucky," you say tenderly and search his face in the hope that it will finally get him to kiss you, but it does the opposite. Instead, it looks as if he awakens from a trance.

He blinks twice, parts his lips as he carefully examines your expression and then he sends you an apologetic smile as he lets go of your wrists. "Sorry," he says and move away from you, stands up as he avoids your disappointed gaze. "Let's call it a night."

You have a hard time being as nonchalant as he is about the situation he just denied the both of you, and you jump to your feet with annoyance radiating from your entire being. "Hell no!" You protest as you clip on your knife belt again, "I'm not done with you."

"Sweetheart," he sighs pointedly with a raised eyebrow but the new nickname doesn't escape you and it takes the edge of the infuriation you feel.

"Don't sweetheart me," you say and bend down in your hips, balling your taped-up hands into fists. "Get in position. I'm gonna find your weak spot soon enough, Barnes."

"If you say so," he sighs in defeat. "Come on then," he lazily waves you forward and you run straight towards him, copying the manoeuvre from the first round by swinging your knee over his neck.

Again, he tries to throw you off by bending forwards, but this time you're holding on much tighter to him and you stay put. He slashes the plastic switchblade against your arm, yelling out "injury!" while throwing you off his shoulder again when you're not allowed to use your left arm to hold on to him any longer.

Luckily, you land on your feet so you kick his left arm, making the switch blade fly out of his grip and you spin again, this time fuelled by so much frustration towards him, that you kick him straight in the chest with so much force he immediately falls down.

He lands on his back with a thump while you land straddled across his chest, your face close to his, the small plastic dagger in your hand pressed tightly against his Adam's apple.

"Okay," he gulps and opens his palms to signify surrender, "this time, you have me. That kick was ballsy!" he grins boyishly. "Your flexibility always amazes me."

"Told you I'd find your weak spot," you pant with a proud smile on your lips, enjoying having him in his lying like this.

The knife is no longer pressed to his skin but neither of you are doing anything to move out of the position you're in, and when his eyes search your face and he lets out a small inaudible gulp, you lean forwards without thinking, finally claiming his lips in a hungry kiss.

He follows you immediately and it doesn't take long before your tongues are intertwined and his right hand is cradled around your chin.

"Bucky," you whisper against him and stretch out your arms over his head and you slink forwards, dragging your front over his.

"Mmh", he hums against you and sits up so you straddle his waist, presses his pelvis towards yours and kisses you again while he grabs you around the ribcage, scoots you closer to his. "You are my weak spot," he pants and pushes his tongue inside your mouth, lets his arousal grow.

You bury your fingers in his long hair, let him lick your neck while he groans beneath you. "Take off my clothes," you whisper in his ear and lick the shell of it. 

"Ah shit," he whispers against your skin and gives you a brief, wet kiss before he moves his head to get a better look at you. "You are so beautiful," he whispers and goes back to kiss your wanting lips, vibranium fingers slowly pulling down the zipper at the front of your suit, revealing your naked chest to him.

"Fuck me," he gulps when he looks down at the exposed skin between you, "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers and leans forwards, takes your nipple between his lips and kisses you sensually

"I'm crazy about you," you confess in a whisper and throw back your head as his hands become more wanting, his hips suddenly moving in small thrusts. "Fuck me Bucky," you fist his hair and hold him at an arms length while moving your hips to simulate you riding him which has him grunt a few excited times.

He looks at you with pupils blown wide, mouth falling open. "Oh my god, you are so dirty!"

"I want you so bad," you pad his erection through his cargo pants and he shoots back his head in response, the most beautifully sinful look etched on his face. "Take off your pants."

"Yeah," he grins and flips you onto your back, gives you a brief kiss before he stands up, unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants, kicking them and his boots off. He gives a raspy exhale when he sees you sitting on your knees before him, and he groans gutturally when you find the edge of him through his boxers and you trace the massive outline of him with your lips.

He takes a step closer to you, buries his hands in your hair as you kiss the trail of hair from his navel down and lick the muscles giving his torso a distinct V running down beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

"Sweetheart," he groans without looking away, tenderly holding your hair back so he can see your face as you kiss and lick him. "I've been dreaming of this."

"Me too," you trace his head underneath the dark fabric, suck a wet spot at the tip and cup his balls in your hands, letting your index finger slip back to touch his tight perineum.

"Jesus fuck, you are so fucking dirty," He shoots back his head with a groan, eyes suddenly fixating on something above you, but you ignore it.

You're about to pull down the last layer of fabric separating him from your mouth, when he takes a step back. "Hey, hey," he suddenly says in a different tone of voice and he puts his hands on your arm to get you to stop moving, eyes still fixated above you.

"Sweetheart," he looks down at you with a shocked expression as he takes one more step backwards while drying off saliva from the corner of his mouth. "Not here, okay?"

"Why not?"

"There's a camera pointing straight at us." He points over your head and you notice the red dot immediately.

You release the grip you have on him with a sigh. "Tony and his fucking security," you mumble.

He quietly helps you up and pulls on his pants while you zip up the front of your suit so you're decent again.

"So now what?" you grin a little awkwardly and take a step closer to him, hoping that he will suggest one of your bedrooms.

"Come on," he's suddenly serious as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the elevator, silently pointing out the security camera blinking angrily in the corner of the lift as you zoom up to your floor.

"Being cockblocked by a camera really wasn't on my bingo card for this year," you joke.

He smiles a little but you can tell it's forced and it doesn't change the frown he's sporting.

You both get off on your floor and he follows you to your quarters but doesn't follow you inside when you open the door.

"I should go," he furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" You turn around staring at him.

"The footage," he mumbles and his upper lip twitches. "I have to go destroy it."

"We can do so tomorrow," you smile at him and grab him around the waist, kissing his neck to try and coax him into continue where you left off.

"Might be too late then," he whispers.

"Bucky, come on. It's just Tony."

He leans forwards and for a brief moment, you're sure you have him convinced but then he presses his lips to your cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," he says quietly and with that, he's out the door.

His prescense lingers even after he's gone and all you can think about is what would've happened if he'd stayed.

Day 53

You'd listened to him pacing the floor of his quarters above you half the night before deciding on getting up yourself.

He didn't join your around 4 am as he usually does when neither of you are able to sleep, and at 7:30, Steve came down dressed in his running gear alone.

"What's up with Bucky?" He asks while scratching his beard. It's not something you've ever explicitly discussed before but of course he too has noticed how much time you've been spending together outside the ring.

"I don't know," you shrug and turn your attention back to the book you've been pretending to read for two hours straight.

Even with your eyes fixed on the yellowing pages in front of you, you can tell that Steve stops mid-motion. "...Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we did not," you scoff, "we're not children."

"I know. But you're both wearing the same long face, and he's usually occupying that chair - " he points to the bar stool opposite you, "- when he's making up bad excuses to spend more time with you instead of coming out for a run with me."

"I don't know what's up with him, Steve," you say pointedly, "I'm not his girlfriend!"

Steve puts his weight on his elbow and leans close so you can see his expression from the corner of your eyes. "Is that what this is about?" he asks quietly, "You want to be his girlfriend?"

Your cheeks light up and you determinedly fix your gaze on the first word of the page. "I'm not having this conversation with you," you mumble even though you know your cover is made.

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "I've already had it with Bucky."

Finally, your interest is piqued. You shoot Steve a nervous side eye. He's looking at you like a disappointed father. 

"...and?" You ask when he doesn't continue.

"I really don't think this is a conversation you should be having with me."

"Well you started it," you mumble and look back down again, flipping the page of your book even though you haven't read a single word.

Suddenly, Steve stands up straight. "Hey man," he says over your head and you don't have to turn you gaze to know who's just entered the room.

"Hey," you hear Bucky's voice from the doorway before he fully enters the room though he stays close to the exit.

"Right," Steve nods and pads your hand before pressing past Bucky, clapping his shoulder in the process.

Finally alone, Bucky takes two steps closer to you. "Hey, sweetheart," he mumbles quietly, hands buried in his pockets, "can we talk?"

You look up at him, the air between you thick. "Sure," you sigh but cross your arms over your chest.

He takes the bar stool next to you, drums his fingers against the steel kitchen counter, purses his lips. "Last night was -..." he trails off and closes his eyes in frustration when he cannot find the right words.

"Disappointing?" You say and cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he agrees honestly. "It was very disappointing. I'm sorry about that."

He looks sincere but you're not sure how to react. You want to accept his apology - to have him back on your side - but you need an explanation.

"It wasn't because I didn't enjoy it," he quietly continues, "- because trust me, I did," he sends you a pained look and you ease up on the defensive position you're holding yourself in as he carefully grabs your hands, kisses your knuckles tenderly. "I didn't lie when I said that I've been wanting it for quite some time," he looks at your joined hands and your heart cracks at the confession that Steve insinuated. "- been wanting you."

"Then why'd you leave?" You ask quietly.

His gaze crawls up to meet yours. "Truth be told, I got scared."

"Of... us?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. Of that camera."

"The camera?" you tilt your head to the side and search his face, "Honey, it's just Tony. I know there's bad blood between you, but he would never expose any of us."

"I know," he gulps. "It's more what the camera represents. Usually, I'm so aware."

"Of what?"

"Everything," he breathes as if it's a relief to say out loud. "It's like I told you; the serum enhances everything inside of you, dials everything up to fucking eleven. So in terms of combat and targeting enemies it's great, but when I'm with you, I don't feel anything else..."

You furrow your brows. You don't understand.

"Sweetheart... I can tell by the colour of the dust underneath Sam's shoes where he's been taking his latest date. I know when you're on your period just from the way you wash your hair. I know when Nat's talked to her sister last, when Steve's not sleeping - even when Coulson's wife's van needs an oil change. I'm aware of every emergency exit, surveillance measurement and guard change of every building I've entered in the past six months, but that camera last night? Sweetheart, I forgot it was there."

"Buck," You whisper achingly. "That's an awful lot to carry around."

"I know," he mumbles. "Being alert of everything has been my default for so long - a survival mechanism if you will - but last night, you were all I saw. And I got scared when I suddenly realised how easily you've made me put down my guard," he sighs. "That's why I left."

An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, you fiddle with the golden link that runs over the back of his left hand. "I know it scared you but I bet it must've felt good to let go too."

"You have no idea," he breathes out a sigh of relief. "But it's not easy to let go of something that's such an integral part of your way of living. Contemplated what to do all night."

"What did you conclude?" Your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

"That kissing you definitely beats remembering where every security camera in the compound is," he shoots you a careful smile. "Look I know I screwed up, and I know I should've kissed you weeks ago. And I'll probably still get scared of the effect you have on me from time to time," he moves a little, uncomfortable. " - but if you want me, I'm yours."

"If I still want you?" You smile at him, "you're all I want Buck. You know I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm in love with you too."

"I know," you bite your lower lip and search his face.

He moves a little closer to you, snakes his hands around your neck in quiet desperation and finally kisses you.

"Hey," you whisper in-between tender kisses. "Perhaps you wanna show me your room?"

"Yeah," he grins against your lips. "I wanna fucking show you the world."

He's been at the compound almost two weeks now, always following Steve around looking anxious and slightly beside himself as he tries his best to blend in with the wall behind him, flinching if someone comes a little too close or laughs a little too loudly near him. You've all noticed his nervous eyes constantly darting all over his surroundings, clearly checking for the nearest exit to make sure he can escape at just a moment's notice.

You also haven't heard him say much apart from his name when he first arrived and the occasional 'yes' or 'no' when Steve asks him stuff, but you've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you've got your attention directed elsewhere.

You wonder if he's having a hard time adjusting not only to his new home but also to the flourishing friendship between you and Steve, so you give both of them space to find each other again. After all, Steve is important to you, so by proxy, Bucky is too.

Day 19

Three weeks in and you're eating dinner by yourself in the kitchen when you hear footsteps from the hallway. 

"Smells like the kitchen's occupied right now," Steve's soft voice sounds from the other side of the wall before he's even shown himself in the doorframe, "come on, we'll just come back later."

"You can come in, it's okay," you call back over your plate of chicken tikka masala, excited to finally have an excuse to talk to Steve after weeks of almost complete radio-silence.

He pokes his head around the door frame. "You sure? We can wait 30 minutes until you're done - we don't mind, do we Buck?" He looks over his shoulder and you hear Bucky mumble something incoherently before Steve looks back at you with an apologetic smile.

"No, no please come in," you urge the two of them forwards with a wave of your fork, "it's been a quiet day, I would love some company."

"Well it does smell lovely in here," Steve smiles broadly and steps inside, immediately striding over to you by the dinner table while Bucky silently follows him.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve mutters happily and kisses the top of your head, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

"Hi Stevie," you lean into him and send Bucky what you hope is a disarming smile from over Steve's shoulder as he sits down at the far end of the table. He looks as if he'd rather be lying under a rock.

"I didn't want to impose on your big reunion," you explain, "I thought you guys needed some well-deserved time to reconcile."

Steve sends you a grateful look and starts emptying the fridge of vegetables.

"So what've you been up to today?" you ask as he pulls out a bag of chopped kale and a sad looking winter squash.

"Uhm, not much," Steve eyes the squash suspiciously. "Went for a run earlier, showed Buck around the gym. Had my ass handed to me in the ring, didn't I?" He laughs and looks over at Bucky who's sitting quietly between you like a polite child.

"I - I don't know about that," Bucky says uncomfortably and darts his eyes over to you, checking for your reaction.

You remember feeling like that; scared that others would be afraid of you if you showed them exactly what you were capable off. It makes your stomach ache.

"Come on Buck, you beat the living shit out of me," Steve laughs unknowingly and it makes Bucky's ears turn red and his mouth reduce to a thin white line.

"I hear you're skilled with a switchblade," you speak directly to Bucky, wanting to show him that you're neither afraid of him nor his capabilities. "I could use some pointers for close combat if you have any," you try to shrug as nonchalantly as humanly possible. "I usually spar with Sam or Steve but they're both terrible with knives!"

"It's true," Steve grins. "You're a better match for her, Buck."

Bucky's eyes dart between you and Steve but he doesn't reply.

"Say the word, and I'm yours for an afternoon, James," you smile.

Bucky grunts and uncomfortably slinks back in his chair.

Day 24

There's a strong burning sensation in your eyelids as you blink for the first time in what feels like hours and you turn your head to the side, only to realise the clock is up by a mere three minutes.

4:42

It's mocking you. Red digits staring at you in the dark, reminding you that you have exactly two hours and eighteen minutes before you have to be dressed for your weekly sparring match with Sam. You give out an involuntary groan at the thought and try placing yourself differently on the mattress although it feels like you've tried out every possible position already.

It's the third night in a row you haven't closed a single eye, and it's starting to drive you crazy! It's not as if you really have a job where you can afford an off day. Off days usually results in getting badly injured - or in worst cases; killed.

With yet another annoyed groan, you sit up straight on the mattress. 4:44.

"That's it," you mumble under your breath and swing your legs over the side of the bed frame, grabbing your wollen socks and your book in the process as you determinedly decide that you're not gonna waste the next few hours fretting over missing sleep.

The entire first floor is completely dark as you walk the empty hallway, so when you enter the living room, you're surprised to find another person already occupying the room.

"James?"

He's sitting in the big winged chair, his hair unruly, shoulders slumped, dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't even look up to greet you but keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table in front of him as he gives out a tired grunt in response. The skin underneath his eyes is irritated and spotted, and you think to yourself that it looks like he's been crying. A lot.

"Are you okay?" You ask and he blinks a few times at the question but still doesn't look up.

"M'fine."

He looks awful and you cannot help but think to yourself that Steve definitely doesn't know about this. That if he did, he'd be sitting right here beside the man he's been missing like a piece of himself.

"How long have you been up?"

Bucky's eyes flicker to the clock above the door. "A while," he grunts and you get the immediate feeling that maybe he's never even gone to bed.

"Hmm," you nod, not sure what else to say. "Come, I'll make us coffee."

"I don't want coffee."

"Well come anyway," you urge him.

His eyes meet yours for the first time and you guess he's considering how to gently turn you down, but after af couple of contemplative seconds, he finally sighs as he pushes himself up from the chair and reluctantly follows you. Even though he pulls the bill of his cap down towards his eyes, it feels like a victory. Thank god for his impeccable manners or he probably would've turned around and left altogether.

He sits down on the bar stool at the kitchen island and you pour both of you a mug of instant coffee.

Normally, he seems to thrive in silence but you've never seen him look more uncomfortable, so you decide on breaking the ice.

Carefully, you clear your throat and his eyes immediately dart towards you. He already looks sick of the question you haven't even asked him yet, but still, you continue.

"You're on the ninth floor, right? Next to Sam."

He nods.

"Have you settled in nicely?"

"Mhm," he grunts.

"I live on the floor below. Sandwiched between Steve and Nat."

"Okay," he nods, probably wondering why you won't just leave him alone.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," he hesitates and sighs in slight annoyance when he realises that his short answers aren't going to keep you from yapping away. "People here are nice. I guess," he gives in with a shrug.

You chuckle and watch as he takes a sip of the coffee and scrunches up his nose, looking at the coffee as if it's offended him.

"I don't know if you know this-" you say as you finally look away from him now that you have a reason to continue the conversation, "- but I'm actually quite new to the compound too. I've only been here about six months."

"Steve told me," Bucky nods and tries to hide that his fleeting eyes are studying your every movement. "He talks a lot about you."

It makes you smile. "He talks a lot about you too."

Bucky follows the movement of your fingers as they tap the rim of the mug in front of you but doesn't say anything.

Entertained by how he studies you, you slowly bring the cup to your lips. "Where is Steve?" You ask him and take a sip.

Bucky's eyes briefly catch yours again and a thin line immediately appears between his dark eyebrows. "In bed," he grunts, "- why?"

"Does he know you're-"

"He's not my babysitter," he cuts you off pointedly.

"I know," you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I was just wondering if he knows you're not sleeping. There are remedies for insomnia these days, you know."

His eyes seem to stare straight through to your soul. "Like coffee?" he grunts, challenging you.

It makes you chuckle. "Touché!"

The muscles on his forehead seem to relax a little now that he's figured out you can take a joke. "No, he doesn't know," he mumbles and looks away. "He has enough to deal with being Captain America and all. I don't want to burden him more than I already have."

"I see," you nod and go back to your coffee, thinking to yourself that Bucky might no longer be the great charmer Steve's told you stories about, but he's definitely a good man. Perhaps with some humour in there if you dig deep enough.

"Are you going to tell him?" He asks with slate blue eyes coming back up to stare right through you once more. He's challenging you again.

"Don't see why I would," you shrug. You want to show him that you can be trusted. That he doesn't have to rely on Steve alone.

He stares at you intensely a couple of seconds before his face fades back to neutral, but you see the way the tension of his shoulders eases just a fraction. Finally, he's disarmed.

"How do you like the coffee?" You ask, pleased to see that you've passed his tests.

His probing eyes direct the attention to the Falcon mug in front of him. "It tastes like ass," he grunts sincerely and stares disprovingly at the mug.

It makes you laugh.

Day 25

It's 5:23 when you hear dragging feet shuffling in the hallway. They stop right outside the kitchen door but nobody enters.

You know who it is, and you know he's currently contemplating going back to his quarters so he doesn't have to talk to you, but you decide on ruining his plan.

"You can come in," you say cheerily but the door stays immobile for a second or two before a heavy sigh sounds and he gently pushes it open.

Once again, you're thankful for his impeccable manners.

"Good morning," you say cheerily and turn off the heat to the pot on the stove.

"Mornin'," he mumbles while giving off an aura of slight annoyance, but you catch the brief interested look he shoots the eggs sizzling in front of you.

"How'd you sleep?" You ask as you plate your breakfast and sit down opposite him.

"I didn't."

"Me neither," you muse. "Are you hungry?" You ask him altough you know he is. He didn't show up for team dinner last night.

His eyes dart from yours, down to the shakshuka between you and back up again. He gives you a curt shake of his head but his stomach gives him away by growling.

"Come," you smile and hand him an extra fork, "we'll share mine."

He hesitates.

"- come on, I can tell you’re hungry."

"I’ll wait for Steve," he mumbles, "I don't want to ruin your breakfast."

"What are you talking about? I was lonely until you joined me," you push your plate towards him. "Let me do something nice for you in return."

He looks at you perplexed as if he isn't sure how to respond to your kindness. Slowly, he casts his eyes downwards so they scan the red sauce and eggs between you instead. "I don't know what it is."

"Try some," you offer him a reassuring smile.

You cannot decide whether he looks more curious or annoyed. "Okay. Thank you," he mumbles quietly and takes a small amount of sauce and eggs on his fork, carefully inserting it in his mouth. "It's spicy!" He furrows his brows and looks at you as if you've just tried to poison him, and before you can even react, his eyes widen. "Jesus FUCK!" He coughs.

You have to hold back a splutter of laughter at his sudden cursing. "Sorry! I forgot to tell you!"

He takes a gulp of water. "Fuck me!"

You chuckle, "Are you okay?"

He sucks in some air and waves his hand dismissively between you.

"Oh my goodness I'm so sorry," you full on laugh and catch his desperate eye as he takes another big gulp of water, "I always make it too spicy for Steve too."

"Shit," he wheezes and looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you grin with tears in your own eyes, "I can make you something else."

"No, I like it," he continues coughing a little, "- I think."

"You think?" You laugh.

"I just didn't even know food could taste like this," he purses his lips and suck in some cooling air while eyeing the shakshuka between you. "For the past seventy years, I've only had stew and potatoes."

"Mmh," you sigh with a suddenly serious frown, and for a second, Bucky looks as if he's scared he's said something god-awful wrong but you interrupt him before his mind starts to wander. "Sorry - it's just: I remember that all too well. Eating the same thing over and over again. Personally, I haven't touched beets since I escaped."

He freezes slightly in his chair "...Escaped?"

You nod, "yeah. I was trained under the Soviet Armed Forces."

Bucky's gaze tells you that he's well-aware of the things you must've endured. "...Oh," he puts down the fork he's been holding.

"Yeah. Thank god I knew Natasha or I would probably still be stuck in Moscow."

"Hmm," he furrows his eyebrows. "I was told stories about Operation Red Room back when I was..." he clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and you refrain from telling him that you heard stories about him too. That from a young age, you'd been told that the Winter Soldier would come in the night if you didn't practise your ballet. "- You were... brainwashed too?" His eyes find yours.

You nod slowly. It seems you've finally found common ground.

He furrows his brows. "But you're normal?" he states matter-of-factly and immediately looks embarrassed by himself.

You smile at his expression. "Just as normal as you I guess."

Bucky's mouth twitches a little as he offers you the first hint of a smile you've ever seen on his face. It's hesitant, but it's there. And it lingers when he goes in for a second bite of your breakfast.

Day 30

Last night at dinner, Steve had told you that Bucky was having one of his more 'gloomier weeks' (his words) and that he would neither leave the bed nor have anything to eat no matter how much Steve tried to coax him.

Of course you haven't mentioned to anybody that you've shared your breakfast with Bucky every early morning for the past week, getting a chance to talk to him before he sneaks back to his room as the rest of the compound starts waking up, so when his pale cheeks suddenly appear behind Steve's back not even 30 minutes after you've wished him a good day, you try not to make too much of a fuss about it.

"Mornin' guys," you smile at them from over your coffee cup. They're both dressed in running gear with a huge Captain America logo on the front and you smile a little at how Bucky looks like he's about to hurl himself off of the nearest cliff. Your eyes meet his as he unsuccessfully tries to smooth back his long hair. "- Doing anything fun?"

"Thought we'd take some laps around the lake, didn't we Buck?" Steve smiles and pushes Bucky forwards so they're at the same level.

Bucky merely grunts, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

"Sounds lovely," you sip your coffee, happy that you haven't come up with the same insane idea.

"Yeah, it's the first day of spring and the sun is finally out!" Steve sighs lovingly while Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly annoyed by Steve's peppy morning routine. "-Wanna join?"

"Oh absolutely not," you splutter with a laugh. "This is your insane idea. Don't drag me into it."

It makes Bucky's upper lip twitch familiarly as he tries smoothing back his long hair again.

"Big Captain America fan?" You joke as you nod towards the giant star on Bucky's chest.

Luckily, he doesn't miss a beat and picks it up immediately; "not really," he says in a sour tone of voice, "I'm only wearing this because they were all out of Iron Man shirts."

It makes both you and Steve laugh and Bucky sweeps back his hair again, for a brief moment looking proud of himself.

You're still grinning as you lock eyes with him and hand him the hairtie from around your wrist. "Here," you say as you wobble it in the air between you "to keep your hair out of your eyes."

Bucky hesitates as he looks between you and the black elastic band.

"It's a game changer, trust me," you grin and once again urges him to take it.

He's still hesitating when he takes a step forwards and grabs it from your hand, slowly tying the smallest ponytail you've ever seen at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, James," you smile at him and he briefly smiles back before his expression fades to neutral again.

With pink cheeks, he looks at you while nervously shifting his weight around on his feet. "You can... call me Bucky if you'd like."

You smile at him and he carefully returns your smile. He's actually quite cute. "Okay Bucky," you nod, "I'd like that."

Steve looks as if he might burst from joy.

Day 34

Four days later, Bucky sits down next to you on the sofa. It's the first time during the day he isn't following Steve around like a dark shadow and it really suits him to be this independant.

"Hello," he says carefully.

"Hey Buck, what's up," you greet him and put down your book.

"I was thinking," he starts off slowly while fidgeting with the metal plates of his left hand. "If maybe you'd wanna show me one of those movies you were talking about at dinner the other night?"

"Yeah," you immediately grin and have to hide your excitement of finally having him seek you out voluntarily. "Anything in particular?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, already much more relaxed. "I don't really know any movies apart from Bambi and I doubt that's still a hit."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh and turn on the Netflix app, ready to show him your favourite movie. "Get cozy," you throw him a blanket, "I know exactly where to start."

He nods and carefully unfolds the blanket as he directs his attention to the title on the movie displayed on the screen. There's something heartwarming about seeing the world's most deadly assassin wrapped in plaid, sitting stiff as a trunk with his hands folded neatly in his lap, but you make sure not to look too obvious as you smile widely.

As the movie plays, you carefully watch his reactions to make sure he's thoroughly entertained, but even though he doesn't laugh at the funny parts, he still assures you that he liked it when the movie ends.

"You don't have to say that if you don't mean it."

"Okay," he chuckles so beautifully your stomach lurches forwards, "- maybe I would have liked to change some things around, but overall, I liked it."

"Okay, good," you smile.

"Maybe you can show me all your favourite movies?" He tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"I'd like that, Buck"

Day 37

"Hey sweetheart, I have a favour to ask you," Steve says when he catches you coming back from the bathroom during a movie break. He's dressed in tactical gear from head to toe, carrying his shield on his back and talking in his serious, low voice as he pulls you to the side so no one can hear the two of you. "I have to go with Tony to Boston for a few days. It's an emergency," he sighs, "do you think you could keep an eye on Bucky until I get back? Make sure he gets something to eat, that he comes out of his room. Stuff like that."

You look over Steve's shoulder and see Bucky sitting on the sofa, looking at you curiously from over the back. You feel a pang in your heart when you see his anxious face, and you almost get offended on his behalf. Over the last few days, he's really been showing progression. "I don't mind keeping him company," you turn your attention back to Steve, "but don't you think he deserves a little more credit?"

"I know, it's just -" Steve winces, "- I'm still a bit worried about him and it would really ease my mind to know you'll help out. Please, I have to leave in a bit."

"Just go. Don't worry, we'll have fun."

"You're the best," he grabs your hands and kisses your knuckles. "Thank you," he says and adjusts the strap over his shoulder before he waves at Bucky and heads out the door.

When you sit back down on the sofa again, Bucky's weirdly distant.

"What did Steve want?" he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You turn your gaze towards him, scan his face and feel the same pang in your heart as before. "Honestly?" You sigh, "he wants me to keep an eye on you."

The colour in Bucky's cheeks drains so he becomes more pale than you've ever seen him. "So now you're babysitting me too?"

"Nope," you say unceremoniously and press play on the remote. "I told him to fuck off."

He smiles at that.

Day 39

It's almost midnight and you and Bucky are sitting outside on lawn chairs with cups of steaming hot tea cradled in your hands as you quietly look up at the stars above you. Normally, you like talking and could do so for hours, but lately, you've come to enjoy the quiet hours in Bucky's company too.

You give out a content sigh and briefly turn your gaze towards him as he studies the constellations above you.

Even though the March air is so cold you've put on several layers of wool just to be able to sit outside, he's only wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, his thick bicep bulging nicely against the black hem. You wonder what he might look like with his shirt off.

"You're staring," he mumbles, a cloud of vapour escaping him as he breathes against the chilly air.

"Sorry," you chuckle and look away, slightly embarrassed by your unsolicited staring. "I just can't really believe you're not cold."

"Serum," he mutters matter-of-factly.

"Wish I had some of that," you sigh and snuggle further down into your scarf.

"Trust me, you really don't."

"Why not?"

"You ever been over-stimulated? It's like that."

"Mmh," you nod. "All the time?"

"Pretty much."

"What does it feel like?"

He shrugs, "neurons firing. Like everything's dialed up to eleven. Summers are unbearable. Loud noises even more so. Annoying people become three times as annoying," he shoots you an amused side-eye and you can tell he's about to make a joke. "Just imagine what I go through with Sam."

"Eat a bag of dicks, Wilson," you repeat the words you heard Bucky mutter the other day when it was suggested that he switch out a protein bar for a can of tuna.

He smiles at you. "You heard that, huh?"

"Just because Sam chose to ignore you, doesn't mean the rest of us didn't hear you being crass."

"Sorry," he grins.

"I can take it."

"I know you can," he arches an eyebrow, about to say something, but is cut off by a sudden loud bang from above that has both of you look upwards.

"Ooh!" You immediately exclaim with enthusiasm as you follow the illumination of colours above. "Fireworks!" You lean into him, excitement quickly slipping from your face, however, when you notice the state he's in.

He's sitting as if petrified; stiff, glossy eyed, panting. His chest is heaving in shallow breaths and he stares at you with desperation.

"Bucky!" You cry out and immediately grab his pale cheeks, holding his face close to yours.

"Can't. Breathe," he's gulping for air, hands desperately clinging to your elbows.

"Look at me," you say and slowly heave in some air, trying hard to get him to match your breathing. "Focus on me," you exhale slowly.

His eyes flitters across your face but it works. He has his breathing under control within three deep breaths but then another loud bang sounds and he flinches.

"Come," you grab his hand and drag him inside to safety while he pants and whines behind you.

With the door kicked shut and your hands immediately on his cheeks again, you quietly remind him where he is. "You're safe, Bucky. It's just fireworks. You're safe here with me."

He clutches his heart as he slides down the wall behind him.

And when you hug him tightly, and over and over again remind him that he's safe, he slumps down against your shoulder and cries into your neck, holding onto you for dear life.

Day 40

Although he's been around you all day, Bucky hasn't uttered a single word directly to you since the panic attack the night before, so when he suddenly breaks the thick silence between you with a loud clearing of his throat, you immediately listen.

"Steve wants us to be friends," he says bluntly and completely out of context.

You look up from your book. "What?" You furrow your eyebrows. "- you don't think we're friends?"

"I - I don't know," he bites his inner cheek and finally looks at you for real, "I wasn't sure after the... you know."

"That changed nothing for me," you try to shrug nonchalantly although you want to shake him to make him understand. "You just panicked, Buck."

"Well who the fuck panics at fireworks?" he mumbles and looks awat, "you must think I'm fucking mental."

"Definitely not," you smile with a shake of your head. "I just think you have some invisible scars. That doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"Mhh," he grunts without fully accepting your words. "I'm not sure I deserve your friendship," his mouth pulls to the side disapprovingly.

"You do," you put your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent. It's earthy and fresh; orange and cedar wood.

"So you don't think I'm.... off?" He asks quietly, lips close to your scalp. You can almost feel them vibrating.

"No, Buck," you smile with closed eyes, enjoying the close proximity. "I don't think you're off," you breathe in. Orange. Cedar wood. "Quite on the contrary. I like spending time with you."

He nods slowly while contemplating your words. "I - uh - I like spending time with you too."

"That makes me very happy to hear," you smile into his shoulder. "So you agree? We're friends?"

"Yeah," he nods and puts his chin on top of your head. "We can be friends."

Day 42

Steve's back from Boston with an injury.

"He took a blade to the glute so now he can't even walk," Bucky explains after coming back from visiting him in the med wing. "He says it's his hip but I just know it's because he's too decent to say ass in front of doctor Cho."

"Poor Steve," you wince while chuckling slightly at Bucky.

"Yeah... Even with the serum's recovery time, he figures he'll be out for the rest of the month."

"Well," you smile, "at least that means you finally found a legit way out of going on morning runs with him," you muse as you measure a cup of water for the dinner you're making the two of you.

"Yeah, thank fuck for that!" He agrees in relief, "I cannot listen to one more word about how much he loves bird song in the morning."

"God he's so old!" you laugh and switch your voice over in your best imitation of Steve, "Oh look over there, Bucky! A blue crested warbler!"

It's not even that funny but the voice you're making has Bucky laughing!

It's the first time since you first met him and, oh my god, if it isn't the most beautiful sound you've ever heard! The skin around his eyes crinkle softly, his head tilts backwards and he gives out a 'ha!' so loud you can see the back of his teeth.

You want to freeze this moment in time. To make him laugh at your stupid joke for an eternity while your stomach flips in slow motion.

Your own reaction to it perplexes you so much that the cup you're holding overflows.

Day 43

You've barely entered the gym before Bucky's let go of the bar he's doing pull ups in and has approached you to ask if you'll be his sparring partner for the day instead of Steve.

"Hip still a bust?"

Bucky nods and throws his grips to the ground. "What do you say?" He pants and wipes a drop of sweat from his temple. "We're both out of a partner. Might as well use each other as punch bags."

"Are you sure?" You arch an eyebrow while trying to ignore the sudden dryness of your inner cheek. "I mean; you look pretty beat already. How long have you been down here?"

"Couple of hours," he shrugs, "since breakfast."

"Since breakfast?"

Bucky shrugs again. "You were out."

"So you resorted to training for five plus hours because you were bored? I'm flattered Barnes."

He grins.

"- but yeah, sure, I guess I have time to throw you around for a bit," you wink at him and he grins again. It makes you feel warm. "But be warned, I might not be as good with a knife as you are but I'm faster than Steve and sneakier than Sam."

"So you say," he smiles and ties the small pony tail at the nape of his neck.

"Cute hair," you chuckle at him while you grab your makeshift dagger from your gym bag.

"A-har-har," he says sarcastically, "don't forget whose hairtie I'm wearing."

Day 46

He's sitting shirtless beside you, still panting from your daily sparring match, and you're trying your absolute hardest not to stare at the intricate scars that zigzag across his torso and comes to a blazingly red halt where flesh meets metal.

Over the last couple of sparring matches, you've thought to yourself more than once that he looks absolutely beautiful in all his scarred beauty.

"I talked to Steve this morning," he cuts the silence, thankfully giving you something else to think of other than tracing the red lines of his chiseled chest. "He's ready to start training again."

"Yeah?" you try and read his neutral expression. "Looks like morning laps around the lake are back on the menu for you then," you wink at him.

"Well at least I had eleven amazing days without bird watching," he jokes.

"I know you secretly love it," you smile, "- Okay, maybe not the bird-watching bit but the running at least."

"Yeah, it's fine," he leans forwards, puts his weight on his elbows an shoots you a glance. "So, what do you wanna do about us?"

Your stomach flips at the way he pronounces us. Like you're a unit.

Your voice suddenly seems raw. "What do you mean?" you smack your lips to bring them back to life.

It has Bucky follow your mouth intendedly.  "I mean, I guess you don't have to keep sparring with me now that Steve's back on the roster," he says, "I like sparring with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean that -"

"Don't worry," you cut him off, relieved that you still have an excuse to be in this close proximity with him. "I like sparring with you too."

He smiles jokingly at you. "Even though I always win?"

"Even though you're always lucky," you chuckle, "and lets be honest, it's only because you fight dirty."

He sends you a puzzling look.

"As if taking off your shirt isn't a trick to get me weak in the knees!"

He gives you the loud 'ha!' you've been awarded with only a handful of times. It makes your stomach all warm and in the heat of the moment, you get the sudden urge to press your lips to his skin. To see if he tastes as good as he smells and feels and looks.

"Alright," he rolls his eyes and stands up from the bench with a groan that have your knees feel like rubber. "Come on, let's get back to me kicking your ass."

You look sceptically at the hand he's stretching out before you. "Will you be putting on your shirt to give me a fair chance?"

"No fucking way," he winks at you.

You flip him off.

Thankfully, it has him laughing again as he pulls you to your feet.

Day 49

"Sweetheart!" Steve exclaims excitedly as him and Bucky enter the living room at lunch time. "I haven't seen you in days!" He immediately strides around the table and hugs you while giving your cheek a brief kiss.

"Hey guys!" You smile at them and then turn towards Steve; "how's your butt?"

He shoots you a tired smile and you can tell from his face that's Bucky's already been giving him hell about his injury. "Butt's fine," he sighs and changes course. "How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Not much," you shrug, refraining from telling Steve that you've been spending almost every waking hour in Bucky's company.

"I hear you're kicking Bucky's ass," Steve chuckles.

"Well, he's a liar," you wink at Bucky who in return sends you the boyish smile that you love. "- He beats me at everything from shooting to stabbing. It's annoying."

"Don't listen to her, Stevie," Bucky protests with a smile as he crosses his bulky arms over his chest. God, you want to touch him! "She's doing fucking amazing."

"You know what?" you turn to Steve, "for someone so foul-mouthed, he's actually strangely polite!"

Steve laughs, "if you think that's bad, you should hear him when you're not around," he blows out a little air, "yikes!"

It has Bucky roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he chuckles, "lets not make it worse than it is."

"Come on Buck, you'd never use that kind of language in front of a beautiful dame," Steve grins.

"A beautiful dame?" you snicker at the old fashioned term. "Did you seriously just call me that?"

"Yeah," Steve chuckles and bumps his elbow against yours, "of course I think you're a beautiful dame."

"Gee thanks Steve," you grin, "that doesn't make me feel like a grandma at all," you look to Bucky for confirmation, but he awkwardly looks away.

Day 50

You and Bucky are watching the newest blockbuster on Netflix and have just arrived at the part where the final stand between the lead and the villain takes place, when in the middle of the tenacious battle, Bucky decides to talk.

"Is Steve your boyfriend?" He asks suddenly while following the burning helicopter debris on the screen in front of him.

You have a feeling that it's a question that's been nagging him since yesterday, but that he suddenly couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Steve?" You look over at him, a little perplexed. His eyes are glued to the screen in front of him and you're having a hard time figuring out if he's just embarrassed by the slightly prying question or if there's more to it. "- Why'd you think that?"

Bucky's face turns almost crimson. "I don't know," he says while pursing his lips but you have a strong feeling he knows exactly why. "You seem... cosy," he shrugs. There's a different tone behind the last word as if he had to struggle to even get it past his lips.

"We're just friends, Buck."

He stares ahead, body as tense as the first day you met him. "He thinks you're beautiful," he mumbles uncomfortably though he tries to hide it by feigning nonchalance. "And he's always kissing your face..."

"You should really ask Steve about that," you smile, "but no, there's nothing between us. Promise." You want to tell him that you only have eyes for him. That you want him to kiss you.

He gulps and flitters his gaze across your face, studies every angle while you follow his blue irises. Your stomach lurches, it's definitely the most intimate moment you've ever shared and you can feel the electricity between you.

 "Just for the record," he says quietly, "I think you're really pretty too."

Your throat tightens. It's suddenly hard to breathe. And before you've had a chance to react to his words, to take his lips between yours, he looks back at the screen and tightens his jaw.

You bet he's thinking of how much smoother this used to go.

Day 51

"Sooo," Sam sings as he playfully plumps down on the sofa next to you, "spill the tea!"

"...About?"

"Rumour has it that you and Bucky have the hots for each other." He pumps his eyebrows annoyingly. "Has he smooched you yet?"

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Because no, Bucky is taking things a little too slow for your liking and he hasn't smooched you yet though it's all you can think about when you're with him. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

He takes your bad attempt at dodging his question as confirmation. "Lucky guy!" He laughs, "seventy years on ice - God knows he must be excited to finally get a little sugar!"

You want to punch Sam.

Day 52

You've already gone to bed when there's a knock on your door.

"It's me," Bucky mumbles from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" You sit up straight and briefly fiddle with your pyjamas front even though you can tell by your bedside mirror that it looks fine.

He peers in from behind the door and you feel the familiar embers come to live inside of you when he shoots you an amused smile. "Nice PJ's," he cackles and and steps inside.

He looks amazing dressed from head to toe in his tactical suit complete with thigh strap and makeshift sniper rifle attached to his back.

"You're in your most comfortable outfit too, I can see," you grin and nod towards the grenade launcher he's holding. "What are you all dressed up for, sergeant Barnes?" 

He gives you a crooked smile at the old familiar name. "It's Tuesday," he brazenly waves the launcher in front of his face as if you're supposed to know what that means.

"Which means we have to sacrifice someone?" You joke.

"Steve and I usually do Tactical Tuesdays in our combat gear. But apparently, his ass is still sore," he grins and you can tell he has to hold back a laugh, "I - uh - I was wondering if you'd wanna come with me instead? Sorry, didn't realise how late it was."

"I'll come!" You say excitedly before he's even had the chance to finish his sentence. "Give me two seconds," you grab your tactical suit and bag of knives, quickly changing in the bathroom while Bucky patiently waits for you.

When you re-enter your quarters, knifes neatly arranged in the belt strapped around your waist and all, Bucky briefly forgets all about his manners and runs his eyes down your full length. You know you look good in the skin-tight suit, but even though you'd picked the all-black outfit for his pleasure, you're still surprised to have him so discomposed before you.

You clear your throat so his slate blue eyes snap back up to meet yours and he realises he's been caught red-handed. "Get a good look?" You smile at him.

"Fuck off," he grins with pink cheeks and turns his gaze away and opens the door for you. "You ready?"

"Yeah," you excitedly step past him and into the hallway, feeling his gaze burn on your backside.

"Okay I have to ask" you say as the elevator zooms towards the gym on the ground floor. "Is it really necessary with four guns? What are you compensating for?"

He smirks. "Says the woman who brought six knives."

"Touché," you laugh, "but if I know you correctly, you also have a few daggers tugged under your belt."

He smiles knowingly.

"How much do you reckon it takes to take me down when I'm in my tac suit?" You ask him, bemused. "Four guns and two daggers?"

He looks at you with an arched eyebrow.

"- And lets not forget about the grenade launcher," you chuckle as the elevator doors ping open. "Super handy for close combat."

"I'm just putting it in my locker," he rolls his eyes at you as he holds open the door to the gym. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh I would never," you grin and watch his broad backside as he dumps the launcher on the top shelf of his locker, picking up his switchblade instead. "What?" He chuckles when he turns around and sees your cocked eyebrows, "it's my weapon of choice."

"You are so only bringing that because you know I love your little knife flip."

He shakes his head with a grin as he leans down to tighten the laces of his right boot.

Just to have something other to do than stare at his muscular form, you adjust the white sportstape wrapped around your knuckles. You cannot wait for training to begin so you have something else to focus on.

"Okay," he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair, tying the small pony tail that, in the time since you've come to know him, has turned into a bun. "Ready?"

"Come at me Barnes," you smile while taking on your fighting stance, parrying your face with your taped up fists.

He smiles at you briefly before he surprise-lunges forwards, ready to sweep you off your feet, but you know he fights aggressively and has seen it coming from miles away. Skilfully, you jump as high as you can, swinging your knee over his neck so you're sitting on top of his shoulders.

He crouches over before you've had a chance to yank his collar, makes you do a somersault over his head and throws you down on your back, immediately pressing his dull practise switchblade against your throat.

"Fuck!" You admit defeat.

"That's got to be a new record," he grins, "10 seconds."

"Dammit!"

"Come on," he offers you his hand and pull you to your feet, "let's go again."

"Alright," you take on your stance once more and try to read him, "you got lucky this time."

"Sure," he says and grins while skilfully swinging his switchblade so it swooshes in the air between you.

"Show off," you stick out your tongue and take advantage of his momentary grinning as you run towards him, slip down to your knees and slide between his legs, plunging your little white plastic dagger into his right calf so the blade disappears into the handle.

"Right side injury," you yell to make him simulate that he's hurt and kick his left leg in the hope that he will fall down.

But even off balance, he's sturdier than you think and keeps his stance, so you jump to your feet and charge at him again, this time jumping him on his front, forgetting that he has a vibranium arm as you try and injure his left shoulder.

"Shit!" You say through gritted teeth at the sound of metal clanging against metal.

He takes advantage of the added weight to his front and falls forward on purpose so you land on your back, knocking the wind out of you in the process.

He lands on his knees between your legs, and even though you have your ankles wrapped around his waist and your plastic knife inside his arm pit, his fake gun is out of its holster, and he's pointing it straight at your heart.

"Got you," he's panting hard as he studies your face, moving his torso a little closer to you, and you get the sudden feeling he's about to lean in and finally kiss you, so you tighten the grip your legs have around his waist, silently telling him to come closer. But he looks away and re-holsters his gun.

"That was better," he admits and stands up, holding out his hand for you to take. "Nice detail with the surprise kick."

With disappointment pooling in your stomach, you let him pull you up from the floor. "Mhm," you grunt. "And it would've worked too if it wasn't for your stupidly large feet."

"Sorry," he smiles, "Kick harder next time. Bust my fucking ankle" he winks at you.

"I'll bust your balls," you mutter, analysing the way he distributes his weight to predict how he'll move.

He laughs, "I love when you talk dirty to me!" He flips the daggers he's holding in each hand.

"God, you're so cocky right now!"

He grunts and readies himself for your attack, "I'll fucking show you."

Which he does. Two times more.

"Again!" You grunt in annoyance.

"How much more can you take?" He chuckles as you get in position for the fifth time.

"More," you parry your face again.

"Alright alright," he wipes his forehead on his wrist, "just gimme a second. I'm sweating balls."

"Don't you dare take off your shirt just to throw me off!"

"I would never!" he grins and grabs the neck of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, revealing glistening pecs and that small trail of hair that you've dreamt of licking.

"You're fucking infuriating, Barnes," you say while charging straight at his dumb smile, but he grabs you around the waist before you've even had the chance to react and throws you to the ground, unstrapping your knife belt in the process so you only have a single dagger left to defend yourself with.

He throws himself on top of you, pins your wrists over your head and incapacitates you by pressing his chest down on your lungs.

"Fuck!"

"Five seconds this time," he smirks. "You're slipping. Should've stayed in bed, huh?"

"Did your mom ever tell you how fucking annoying you are?" you wriggle to get loose but he merely tightens his grip. "Can't you just let me win once?"

"Can't help it. I love when you turn all aggressive."

"What happened to all the gentleman-crap you and Steve always advocate?"

"It went out the door when you starting cursing at me," he grins and pulls on your wrists so you stretch your shoulders with a small groan.

"Careful Barnes or I'm not gonna want to play with you anymore," you do another small wriggle to break free.

"I have a hard time believing that," he says and with a grin turns his gaze down the length of your neck again, fixes his eyes on your panting chest.

The electricity you've felt between you as of late swells and grows, settles in your chest cavity at the way his weight feels between your legs, his handsome face mere inches from yours. Voltage in your joined skin.

You study his every move as he briefly licks his lips and look back at you.

With your eyes locked on his, he gulps, suddenly uncomfortable. Neither of you say anything but the look he sends you speak volumes when he settles his gaze on your mouth.

"Bucky," you say tenderly and search his face in the hope that it will finally get him to kiss you, but it does the opposite. Instead, it looks as if he awakens from a trance.

He blinks twice, parts his lips as he carefully examines your expression and then he sends you an apologetic smile as he lets go of your wrists. "Sorry," he says and move away from you, stands up as he avoids your disappointed gaze. "Let's call it a night."

You have a hard time being as nonchalant as he is about the situation he just denied the both of you, and you jump to your feet with annoyance radiating from your entire being. "Hell no!" You protest as you clip on your knife belt again, "I'm not done with you."

"Sweetheart," he sighs pointedly with a raised eyebrow but the new nickname doesn't escape you and it takes the edge of the infuriation you feel.

"Don't sweetheart me," you say and bend down in your hips, balling your taped-up hands into fists. "Get in position. I'm gonna find your weak spot soon enough, Barnes."

"If you say so," he sighs in defeat. "Come on then," he lazily waves you forward and you run straight towards him, copying the manoeuvre from the first round by swinging your knee over his neck.

Again, he tries to throw you off by bending forwards, but this time you're holding on much tighter to him and you stay put. He slashes the plastic switchblade against your arm, yelling out "injury!" while throwing you off his shoulder again when you're not allowed to use your left arm to hold on to him any longer.

Luckily, you land on your feet so you kick his left arm, making the switch blade fly out of his grip and you spin again, this time fuelled by so much frustration towards him, that you kick him straight in the chest with so much force he immediately falls down.

He lands on his back with a thump while you land straddled across his chest, your face close to his, the small plastic dagger in your hand pressed tightly against his Adam's apple.

"Okay," he gulps and opens his palms to signify surrender, "this time, you have me. That kick was ballsy!" he grins boyishly. "Your flexibility always amazes me."

"Told you I'd find your weak spot," you pant with a proud smile on your lips, enjoying having him in his lying like this.

The knife is no longer pressed to his skin but neither of you are doing anything to move out of the position you're in, and when his eyes search your face and he lets out a small inaudible gulp, you lean forwards without thinking, finally claiming his lips in a hungry kiss.

He follows you immediately and it doesn't take long before your tongues are intertwined and his right hand is cradled around your chin.

"Bucky," you whisper against him and stretch out your arms over his head and you slink forwards, dragging your front over his.

"Mmh", he hums against you and sits up so you straddle his waist, presses his pelvis towards yours and kisses you again while he grabs you around the ribcage, scoots you closer to his. "You are my weak spot," he pants and pushes his tongue inside your mouth, lets his arousal grow.

You bury your fingers in his long hair, let him lick your neck while he groans beneath you. "Take off my clothes," you whisper in his ear and lick the shell of it. 

"Ah shit," he whispers against your skin and gives you a brief, wet kiss before he moves his head to get a better look at you. "You are so beautiful," he whispers and goes back to kiss your wanting lips, vibranium fingers slowly pulling down the zipper at the front of your suit, revealing your naked chest to him.

"Fuck me," he gulps when he looks down at the exposed skin between you, "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers and leans forwards, takes your nipple between his lips and kisses you sensually

"I'm crazy about you," you confess in a whisper and throw back your head as his hands become more wanting, his hips suddenly moving in small thrusts. "Fuck me Bucky," you fist his hair and hold him at an arms length while moving your hips to simulate you riding him which has him grunt a few excited times.

He looks at you with pupils blown wide, mouth falling open. "Oh my god, you are so dirty!"

"I want you so bad," you pad his erection through his cargo pants and he shoots back his head in response, the most beautifully sinful look etched on his face. "Take off your pants."

"Yeah," he grins and flips you onto your back, gives you a brief kiss before he stands up, unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants, kicking them and his boots off. He gives a raspy exhale when he sees you sitting on your knees before him, and he groans gutturally when you find the edge of him through his boxers and you trace the massive outline of him with your lips.

He takes a step closer to you, buries his hands in your hair as you kiss the trail of hair from his navel down and lick the muscles giving his torso a distinct V running down beneath the elastic band of his boxers.

"Sweetheart," he groans without looking away, tenderly holding your hair back so he can see your face as you kiss and lick him. "I've been dreaming of this."

"Me too," you trace his head underneath the dark fabric, suck a wet spot at the tip and cup his balls in your hands, letting your index finger slip back to touch his tight perineum.

"Jesus fuck, you are so fucking dirty," He shoots back his head with a groan, eyes suddenly fixating on something above you, but you ignore it.

You're about to pull down the last layer of fabric separating him from your mouth, when he takes a step back. "Hey, hey," he suddenly says in a different tone of voice and he puts his hands on your arm to get you to stop moving, eyes still fixated above you.

"Sweetheart," he looks down at you with a shocked expression as he takes one more step backwards while drying off saliva from the corner of his mouth. "Not here, okay?"

"Why not?"

"There's a camera pointing straight at us." He points over your head and you notice the red dot immediately.

You release the grip you have on him with a sigh. "Tony and his fucking security," you mumble.

He quietly helps you up and pulls on his pants while you zip up the front of your suit so you're decent again.

"So now what?" you grin a little awkwardly and take a step closer to him, hoping that he will suggest one of your bedrooms.

"Come on," he's suddenly serious as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the elevator, silently pointing out the security camera blinking angrily in the corner of the lift as you zoom up to your floor.

"Being cockblocked by a camera really wasn't on my bingo card for this year," you joke.

He smiles a little but you can tell it's forced and it doesn't change the frown he's sporting.

You both get off on your floor and he follows you to your quarters but doesn't follow you inside when you open the door.

"I should go," he furrows his eyebrows.

"What?" You turn around staring at him.

"The footage," he mumbles and his upper lip twitches. "I have to go destroy it."

"We can do so tomorrow," you smile at him and grab him around the waist, kissing his neck to try and coax him into continue where you left off.

"Might be too late then," he whispers.

"Bucky, come on. It's just Tony."

He leans forwards and for a brief moment, you're sure you have him convinced but then he presses his lips to your cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," he says quietly and with that, he's out the door.

His prescense lingers even after he's gone and all you can think about is what would've happened if he'd stayed.

Day 53

You'd listened to him pacing the floor of his quarters above you half the night before deciding on getting up yourself.

He didn't join your around 4 am as he usually does when neither of you are able to sleep, and at 7:30, Steve came down dressed in his running gear alone.

"What's up with Bucky?" He asks while scratching his beard. It's not something you've ever explicitly discussed before but of course he too has noticed how much time you've been spending together outside the ring.

"I don't know," you shrug and turn your attention back to the book you've been pretending to read for two hours straight.

Even with your eyes fixed on the yellowing pages in front of you, you can tell that Steve stops mid-motion. "...Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we did not," you scoff, "we're not children."

"I know. But you're both wearing the same long face, and he's usually occupying that chair - " he points to the bar stool opposite you, "- when he's making up bad excuses to spend more time with you instead of coming out for a run with me."

"I don't know what's up with him, Steve," you say pointedly, "I'm not his girlfriend!"

Steve puts his weight on his elbow and leans close so you can see his expression from the corner of your eyes. "Is that what this is about?" he asks quietly, "You want to be his girlfriend?"

Your cheeks light up and you determinedly fix your gaze on the first word of the page. "I'm not having this conversation with you," you mumble even though you know your cover is made.

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "I've already had it with Bucky."

Finally, your interest is piqued. You shoot Steve a nervous side eye. He's looking at you like a disappointed father. 

"...and?" You ask when he doesn't continue.

"I really don't think this is a conversation you should be having with me."

"Well you started it," you mumble and look back down again, flipping the page of your book even though you haven't read a single word.

Suddenly, Steve stands up straight. "Hey man," he says over your head and you don't have to turn you gaze to know who's just entered the room.

"Hey," you hear Bucky's voice from the doorway before he fully enters the room though he stays close to the exit.

"Right," Steve nods and pads your hand before pressing past Bucky, clapping his shoulder in the process.

Finally alone, Bucky takes two steps closer to you. "Hey, sweetheart," he mumbles quietly, hands buried in his pockets, "can we talk?"

You look up at him, the air between you thick. "Sure," you sigh but cross your arms over your chest.

He takes the bar stool next to you, drums his fingers against the steel kitchen counter, purses his lips. "Last night was -..." he trails off and closes his eyes in frustration when he cannot find the right words.

"Disappointing?" You say and cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he agrees honestly. "It was very disappointing. I'm sorry about that."

He looks sincere but you're not sure how to react. You want to accept his apology - to have him back on your side - but you need an explanation.

"It wasn't because I didn't enjoy it," he quietly continues, "- because trust me, I did," he sends you a pained look and you ease up on the defensive position you're holding yourself in as he carefully grabs your hands, kisses your knuckles tenderly. "I didn't lie when I said that I've been wanting it for quite some time," he looks at your joined hands and your heart cracks at the confession that Steve insinuated. "- been wanting you."

"Then why'd you leave?" You ask quietly.

His gaze crawls up to meet yours. "Truth be told, I got scared."

"Of... us?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. Of that camera."

"The camera?" you tilt your head to the side and search his face, "Honey, it's just Tony. I know there's bad blood between you, but he would never expose any of us."

"I know," he gulps. "It's more what the camera represents. Usually, I'm so aware."

"Of what?"

"Everything," he breathes as if it's a relief to say out loud. "It's like I told you; the serum enhances everything inside of you, dials everything up to fucking eleven. So in terms of combat and targeting enemies it's great, but when I'm with you, I don't feel anything else..."

You furrow your brows. You don't understand.

"Sweetheart... I can tell by the colour of the dust underneath Sam's shoes where he's been taking his latest date. I know when you're on your period just from the way you wash your hair. I know when Nat's talked to her sister last, when Steve's not sleeping - even when Coulson's wife's van needs an oil change. I'm aware of every emergency exit, surveillance measurement and guard change of every building I've entered in the past six months, but that camera last night? Sweetheart, I forgot it was there."

"Buck," You whisper achingly. "That's an awful lot to carry around."

"I know," he mumbles. "Being alert of everything has been my default for so long - a survival mechanism if you will - but last night, you were all I saw. And I got scared when I suddenly realised how easily you've made me put down my guard," he sighs. "That's why I left."

An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, you fiddle with the golden link that runs over the back of his left hand. "I know it scared you but I bet it must've felt good to let go too."

"You have no idea," he breathes out a sigh of relief. "But it's not easy to let go of something that's such an integral part of your way of living. Contemplated what to do all night."

"What did you conclude?" Your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

"That kissing you definitely beats remembering where every security camera in the compound is," he shoots you a careful smile. "Look I know I screwed up, and I know I should've kissed you weeks ago. And I'll probably still get scared of the effect you have on me from time to time," he moves a little, uncomfortable. " - but if you want me, I'm yours."

"If I still want you?" You smile at him, "you're all I want Buck. You know I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm in love with you too."

"I know," you bite your lower lip and search his face.

He moves a little closer to you, snakes his hands around your neck in quiet desperation and finally kisses you.

"Hey," you whisper in-between tender kisses. "Perhaps you wanna show me your room?"

"Yeah," he grins against your lips. "I wanna fucking show you the world."

He supposes it's because he finally had a life of his own before he was blipped away. He'd had a small apartment in Borough Park. An ally in Natasha. He finally had Steve back. But in the cruel quinquennial Bucky's been gone, robbed of yet another five years of his life, the apartment's been rented out, Natasha's sacrificed herself, and Steve...? Well, Steve's met someone.

Sigh.

Bucky first meets you right after the battle.

He's only been back a couple of hours at that point, still trying to fully grasp what the hell is going on, and he's sitting on top of a burnt-out vehicle, flanked by his two best friends (well, Sam's there too at least) when he notices a staggering limp out the corner of his eye. "Stevie," you whisper so purely, so delicately that Bucky's heart nearly cracks in two from the frail sound alone. Almost instinctively, he stands up and looks towards the mess that's walking his direction before realising that Steve's done the same. And while Bucky's breath is caught in his throat, his best friend in the entire world exhales with relief and runs towards you with a sobbed 'sweetheart'.

Bucky's left standing as he watches the scene unfold before him, unable to breathe fully as broken tears start running down your bloodied cheeks while his best friend hugs you tight, holds on to you for dear life. "My goodness, you're alive," Steve sobs, "I couldn't find you!"

"I'm here, love," you whisper and fling your arms around Steve's waist in an embrace full of relief and tears and forehead kisses.

"Who's that?" Bucky asks tentatively and immediately regrets looking towards Sam who's sporting an annoying curl from underneath his busted lip as he too watches the loving embrace.

"I'm pretty confident we'll be introduced," he smirks.

Bucky soon learns that you joined the Avenger's initiative a month after the blip. That you and Steve found each other amidst all the chaos and sorrow, that you'd filled the Bucky-shaped hole in Steve's chest. And while Bucky knows he should just be happy that Steve hasn't been left to his own devices for five years, it truly pains him that he isn't.

You're everywhere and even when you're not physically present, Steve makes sure to bring you up at least once or twice. 'She's amazing Buck, don't you think? You should give her a call."

It makes his skin crawl.

It takes a few weeks before Bucky's patience grows thin and he realises that no matter how much he tries to ignore you, you aren't going anywhere. That even though Steve has both him and Sam back, you make him laugh so hard it makes Bucky wonder if Steve's stomach hurts when he goes to bed at night. Or if he falls asleep with the same goofy smile plastered on his face that only Bucky used to be able to procure.

Steve's allowed two favourites, he constantly reminds himself, but no matter how much Bucky tries to shrug you off, he cannot help the uncomfortable clench of his abdomen every time you put your arms around Steve's waist. Or when your fingers bury themselves in his blonde hair and you mark him as yours with your head on his shoulder or your lips on his cheek.

He hates to admit it but he's jealous. So jealous his bones hurt when he sees you and Steve making dinner together. Or when the two of you return from the boxing-ring all sweaty and laugh-struck over some inside joke he doesn't want to join in on no matter how adamant you are in your efforts of getting him down in the ring with you. He's jealous of the smile you make Steve wear. Of how much Steve talks about you. He's even jealous of Sam who's not jealous of you at all but just thinks you're amazing too.

And you try so hard to get under his skin; you bring him his favourite coffee just because you happened to notice that he looks like he hasn't been sleeping for a few days. You're annoyingly funny and charming as you make jokes and send him small winks across the dinner table. You strike up irritatingly interesting conversations about the books he's reading - even gifts him a special lubricant for his arm because you've noticed some of the links aren't exactly gliding like they're supposed to. And it's so sweet and so considerate that he almost falls for it - almost - but then Steve says, "I think she likes you Buck" and ruins everything.

But it all changes on the evening of Steve's birthday.

You're sweet, you're thoughtful, you're kind - so of course you have volunteered to stay behind and babysit Bucky even though he's told you a million times that you should just go see the fucking fireworks with the rest of the team. That he'll be fine alone in his room with the door wielded shut and a pair of headphones blasting some of that modern shit the spider-kid seems to enjoy.

But you're a goddamn peach. So you stay.

"You should be out there," he says as he examines the two aces he's holding up in front of his eyes, "- don't you think Steve's disappointed you're playing cards with me on his birthday?"

"He's had plenty of birthdays before he met me," you chuckle and shoot him a brief look from behind your own hand. "I'm sure he'll manage one more. Plus, Sharon'll be there. He won't even notice I'm gone," you shrug nonchalantly.

Bucky raises an eyebrow.

"What?" you laugh and lie down your cards face-down.

Bucky clears his throat and stares intensely at his own hand. "Nothing..."

"Spill it!"

"It's just - ...doesn't that bother you? Sharon?"

"What?" You laugh while cocking your head to the side as if you really have no idea what he's talking about. "Why would Sharon bother me?"

"Aren't you supposed to be his girlfriend or something?"

You laugh again. "What makes you think that?"

Bucky can feel his own eyebrows knit together in confusion. "You're always ...touching, I guess."

"He's always touching you too," you challenge him while popping a peanut in your mouth. "Does that make you his boyfriend?"

"Har-har, you know what I mean."

You lean forwards and shoot him a sincere look. "I promise you, nothing's going on with me and Steve. We're just friends," you smile and pick up your cards again. "Now come on, I will not be distracted from winning just because you're suddenly waking up from whatever trance you've been in, old man," you whisper and for the first time since he met you, it doesn't bother him that you're making him smile.

And first then does he realise that it's not you he's been jealous of. It's Steve...?

It's how he so effortlessly gets to hug you on a daily basis, and how he gets to feel your weight on top of him when you manage to throw his back down in the ring. How he talks to you like it's the easiest thing in the whole world. Bucky wants it to be him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," you chuckle at him, "is your hand really that bad?"

"Er - no," he shakes his head but can't really let the thought of Steve go, so after a lot of hesitating, he still ends up awkwardly asking: "it's just ...is he aware of the just friends-bit?" he feigns nonchalance.

You shoot him an interested gaze from atop of your cards. "Yes, Buck, he's aware. He knows I have a crush on someone else."

He flexes his fingers, thinks of the lubrication you've bought for him. Thinks of all the conversations you've tried to strike up, the inside jokes you're so keen on getting him to join. How badly Steve's been praising you at every chance he's had.

Have the two of you been trying to...?

He stares at you and you once more look up from your hand. "What?" you grin - this time a little more nervously.

"Do you wanna go on a date with me?" he asks so suddenly he's even surprised himself.