I fell back down the Avengers rabbit hole

“You wish,” you scoff and take your coffee, shuffling down the hall into the bedroom with a roll of your eyes.

You grab your phone and text Nat. ‘He is insufferable! He works out in the living room while I’m trying to enjoy my coffee.’

Nat’s answer pops up almost immediately. ‘And you’re complaining why???’

You fling your phone to the bed and huff. “Ugh!”

Once you finish your coffee you quietly sneak back to the kitchen, peeking around the wall to see if Bucky is still there. When you see that the coast is clear you sigh with relief and rub your grumbly stomach, muttering about breakfast.

“Whatcha gonna make?”

You startle with a shriek. “Shit Barnes! Warn a girl will you!”

“Sorry doll,” he says quietly, having the decency to look a little sheepish. “I forget how quiet I am sometimes.”

As soon as your heart rate starts to settle it picks right back up when you get a look at him. He’s clearly fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips and small water droplets still sliding down his bare chest. You follow the path of one as it moves through the groove of muscle between his pecs and over his abs before disappearing into the fluff of the towel.

“Pancakes,” you whisper. “I’m starving.”

“So am I,” he winks. “Make me some. I’m gonna get dressed.”

With that he starts to walk away.

“A please would be nice! Jeez!” you yell after him. “You’re supposed to be my loving husband!”

He pokes his head back into the kitchen, the towel dangling from his hand as he says, “please doll, my sweet and amazing wife.”

You will your eyes to stay on his face, narrowing them as you nod but you let your gaze drop to his thigh and the distinct V shape that outlines his groin before he disappears again.

“Fuck,” you say to yourself as you start to make the pancakes. “Sweet and amazing wife my ass!”

“I can wash the dishes,” Bucky offers as you clean up after breakfast.

“Thanks, that would be great,” you answer, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Don’t look so shocked doll face. Other than working out in the living room I’m not that bad of a roommate.”

“I don’t know about thattttt,” you drawl but give him a smile and grab your kindle. “I’m gonna read for a bit.”

Bucky stares at your ass as you walk away, inwardly groaning when you lean over to readjust your slipper.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, grabbing his phone.

‘This is torture,’ he texts to Steve, dropping his head in his hands. ‘She’s always walking around in little shorts, or yoga pants or…’

‘And you’re complaining WHY???’ Steve replies back.

Bucky drops the phone to the counter with a grumble and starts to wash the dishes, his mind wandering to inappropriate thoughts.

“BUCKY! Did you forget to use a clip on the cereal bag again!” you screech, stomping over to the couch.

Bucky drops his book to his chest and his eyebrows draw together.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, disgruntled.

“The Cheerios are stale because you didn’t close them right and you didn’t use the clip and now I don’t have a snack!”

He sighs dramatically. “Not everyone can be as perfect as you all the time! I forgot!”

You drop the box on him and walk away.

“You just got Cheerios all over the couch!” he shouts and throws one at you.

“I swear Barnes if you start a food fight right now I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

He hops off the couch and throws another Cheerio at you. It gets stuck in your hair.

“What doll face? What are you gonna do?” he asks, stepping in your space.

You can’t help your intake of breath, his scent surrounding you and making your brain hazy.

“I have to get ready. Clean it up yourself!” you tell him and turn on your heel.

He gently grabs your wrist. “Get ready for what?”

“Like it’s any of your business,” you sass.

“As your husband I think it is!” he counters, pulling you closer.

Your mouth lifts into a smirk and you plant your hands on his chest. “In your dreams Barnes!”

With a twinkle of your fingers, you saunter off to the bedroom.

Bucky sits himself back on the couch and tries to concentrate on his book but he finds himself reading the same page over and over. He finally closes his eyes and lays his head back, placing the book over his face.

Your heels clicking on the floor drag him from his half-asleep daze and he sits up.

His eyes darken when they drink you in, his gaze hungry as it moves from your head to your toes. He rises from the couch; his movements deliberate as he stalks toward you. Once again he invades your space, his hard chest brushing yours with every breath he takes.

He reaches up and fingers the thin strap of your dress, his calloused skin rough against the silky smoothness of yours. The strap falls and he brushes his fingertips down your arm and across your collarbone.

“You can’t go out like this,” he growls.

You’re so caught up in his touch that it takes you a moment to realize what he said to you.

“Like hell I can Barnes!” you yell. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before he can continue his rant you grab your bag and slam the door shut. Thankfully, Nat pulls up just in time.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks. “You look flustered.”

“I need a drink,” is the only answer you give her.

The bar is busy when you arrive, the music and drinks flowing. After your first glass of prosecco, you’re feeling a light buzz and you start grumbling under your breath.

Nat’s eyebrow shoots up. “What are you going on about?”

“Can you believe he told me I couldn’t go out like this?! Who the fuck does he think he is? I don’t belong to him!”

Nat’s eyebrows move higher the longer you talk and her mouth curves into a smile.

“You want him.”

“What?” you gasp. “I DO NOT.”

“Keep telling yourself that babe,” she smirks.

Steve watches as Bucky paces around the living room.

“Can you believe she thinks it’s safe to go out and look like that?” Bucky asks as he kicks at nothing on the floor.

“Like what?” Steve asks, his grin widening.

“Like the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” Bucky sighs and falls onto the couch. “FUCK!”

“You’ve cursed about ten times since I’ve been here. Language,” Steve chides.

“FUCK!” Bucky groans again, sliding his hand down his face in exasperation. “What if someone tries to touch her?”

Steve gets up and stands over Bucky. “I think she can handle herself just fine Buck. And besides, it’s not for you to worry about. This is all pretend for a mission right?”

Bucky glances at Steve through his fingers but doesn’t answer.

“I knew it!” Steve cheers, clapping his hands together.

Bucky still doesn’t answer and when he continues to lay there in silence, Steve kicks his foot.

“What the hell are you waiting for pal? Go get her!”

By the time Bucky arrives you’re halfway through your third drink and your mind is completely occupied by lascivious thoughts of your ‘husband.’

“What the fu…?”

Nat turns her head at your exclamation and promptly hops off the barstool.

“See you later babe,” she croons and leaves you there.

Bucky walks over and your mind goes blank. His dark jeans hug his thick thighs and his button down is pulled tight across his chest, the buttons looking like they might pop off any second. He runs a hand through his long hair and you can’t help but swoon over the hair tie that circles his wrist.

Fuck.

“Hey baby doll,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you breathe out, your thoughts a befuddled mess.

“What are you doing here?” you manage to ask, audibly swallowing when he sits down and drags your barstool between his spread thighs.

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins. “I shouldn’t have said that to you when you were leaving. It came out wrong.”

“What I mean to say is,” he continues, stumbling over his words. “I just…I think….”

“Wow Buck. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” you tease, giggling when mutters a curse. “It’s really cute.”

He drops his head and a stray strand of hair falls in front of his face. You reach out and tuck it behind his ear, lifting his gaze to yours.

“You were saying?”

His large hand settles on your knee and he grazes his fingers up your thigh.

“It’s been torture putting up this façade for the last few weeks…you have no idea how badly…”

And that’s the last thing you hear before someone turns on the karaoke machine and starts singing badly and very loud.

Your face gives away the shock you feel at his words and he immediately starts waving his hands and trying to talk over the music. Neither of you can really hear anything so he just grabs your hand and pulls you toward the back door of the bar.

Once you’re outside he lets out a loud breath and starts pacing.

“I didn’t get to finish my sentence,” he says, looking over at you. “I have more to say.”

“Good,” you tell him. “Because for a second there I thought you were basically telling me how torturous it is to live with me and how badly you wanted to run away.”

He chuckles and moves closer, backing you against the wall of the bar and resting his hands on either side of your head.

“Quite the opposite really,” he murmurs. “Except for the torturous part.”

“Care to elaborate?” you ask, grabbing the collar of his shirt.

“Every time you walked by in those shorts or your yoga pants or just existed in my general space all I wanted to do was rip them off and bend you over the nearest piece of furniture.”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and tug him closer.

“And why didn’t you Bucky?”

“I wasn’t sure it was what you wanted. I mean you yelled at me over the cereal and working out in the living room and pretty much everything..."

You press a finger to his lips. "I get it,” you state. “But it was all a product of my frustration.”

“Frustration?”

“I was secretly hoping you’d bend me over every piece of furniture in the house.”

His eyes close and he licks his lips, tilting his head so that his nose bumps the spot just below your ear. He inhales and buries his face in your neck, trailing his lips feather light down your skin. His metal hand falls from the wall and dances along the skin of your inner thigh.

“Still torturing me baby doll,” he simpers when his eyes meet yours.

“But at least you can do something about it now,” you smirk and brush your lips to his.

“Fuck,” he growls, pressing you harder into the wall with his hips.

“Exactly Barnes. Let’s please. NOW.”

His metal fingers inch higher and when they meet the wet patch on your underwear you feel his cock throb though his jeans.

“This is all I’ve fucking thought about for the last month,” he whispers before ripping the fabric from your hips.