here‘s a safe space

„I‘ll wake up soon and you’ll be gone. You’ll be gone before you can say „I love you“ and before you can actually touch me.“ I admit with disappointment.

„I‘m not going anywhere.“ He grabs my hip this time, squeezing the thickness of my curve.

„I love you, I could never leave you.“ He promises and kisses my temple repeatedly.

I sit up, he follows my movements, his kisses trailing down my neck and cleavage.

„Please, let me have you.“ He breaths against my skin. „I‘ll do absolutely anything.“

I hold my breath to withhold a moan. The way my core tingles in response of his words makes me want to lose control and give in to him completely.

„You already have me, Paul.“ Is all I’m able to respond. He bites at the soft skin of my neck, licking over the same spot right after to soothe it. I’m certain the way he start sucking repeatedly leaves marks and hickeys.

His one hand goes to lay on my stomach digging the tips of his fingers just slightly before moving to trace them down a path to my hipbones, purposely grazing close to my core once or twice.

The white linen covers my breasts but he lifts his head then and uses his free hand to deliberately pull the fabric down until air hardens my nipples. He just looks into my eyes, seemingly asking permission without words.

I try to help myself back to reality but the emotions in his eyes make it so much harder. I have to squeeze my eyes for a second before I find the strength to wake up and move my legs outside the bed, sitting upright and my back facing him.

He lets out a quiet protesting groan. But he was half expecting it –he knows me well enough.

Two days in a row I‘d never let myself have pleasure. Last night was an exception. He knows.

I am visibly fighting with myself here –he can tell. But Paul knows not even begging might convince me, although it’s one of my weaknesses.

I find my white panties on the floor and quickly put them on before leaving the bed entirely, walking to the closet to pick out a shirt to cover my chest.

Paul lets himself fall on the mattress, frustratingly watching my skin being covered by more and more fabric.

„Don’t cover all this beauty, baby.“ He protests.

„Shush it, Paul. I gotta be in New York by the end of the day.“ I wear my usual mask again as I look back at him for just a second.

Of course he‘s used to it, and he loves even that about me – but there’s something about the pure and relaxed me that made him fall head over heels. But he rarely gets to see it these days. He misses it, but as long as he can still occasionally see me, no matter in what kind of mood I am, he’ll be happy enough.

„Don’t overwork yourself. I can already see your muscles tensing up again when I just loosened them last night.“ He grabs his boxers now too.

I don’t give him another glance before walking out the bedroom to head for the kitchen. I need hot coffee to be able to stand myself treating him cold.

He’s fast to follow me after putting on some sweatpants. Taking a seat at the kitchen island to watch me make my fresh coffee.

„Didn’t know you needed to leave already.“ Yeah, he didn’t, but he wasn’t expecting me to stay either.

You huff softly. „I usually only have an hour for you. I know that you know you can call yourself lucky this time.“ I grant myself a moment with him and join him, taking a seat next to him with my coffee to sip on.

The way his chest falls and rises slowly reminds me he‘s still at ease right now. Until he has to watch me go –again. His breathing always picks up, his heart stuttering at the view of me leaving.

I pity him. I wouldn’t know why he still puts up with it. But I fear he will do just that for the next five years or so. It’s already been three.

So I gift him a smile, caress his cheek before kissing it and standing up.

„Don’t you wanna take a shower before leaving?“ He clings onto a few more minutes with me.

„I will.“ It’s all it takes for him to leave the kitchen immediately to be able to join me.

He seems all to eager to have me naked and vulnerable once again.

„You’re desperate, Paul.“ I call him out, lazily gathering clothes to bring to the bathroom with me. He does the same but faster.

„I‘m okay with that.“ He responds truthfully.

There‘s a moment of silence until we’re both in the bathroom, losing clothes. But not in a sensual way, in a quiet and safe way.

„Why do never consider just sleeping with other people?“ I ask, the question has been burning on my tongue for a long time now. It’s not like I would consider, I’m always busy anyway. At it's not like anyone could keep up with him.

He almost chokes on his own spit, coughing before even being able to think about a response.

„I don’t. You’re enough. You'll always be.“ I don’t know how he manages but his voice his soft, and his eyes reveal how honest he feels for me. He feels wholeheartedly.

And I hate it. I hate how I know I could feel the same, if I would just -let myself. But the memory of my broken heart reminds me more often than not that I am not supposed to be loved like this.

I hate myself for falling in love with someone before he came. Because I know he’s real. But still I expect to wake up. I’d give myself this chance if it weren’t for the lingering fear of rejection that’s stronger than anything else in my head and heart.

If a promise like his would be enough, I would’ve let him in long ago. But it’s not. It’s just a reminder of my long lost ability to really love someone.

I don’t respond. And he understands, he always does.

I step into the shower silently, half expecting him to go and refrain from joining me this time. But he stays, like always.

I expect the hotness of the water running down my skin to be the only thing comforting me. Though I forget the intensity his hands bring when he places them around my hips. I decide not to question his decision to stay this time and just let him be here with me for a moment. Without being angry at him for loving me. Just for a moment.

„I‘ll never let you slip through my fingers.“ He whispers just loud enough for it to be still audible under the stream of water.

„I’ll always be here. It does not matter how much I crave to be near you, only how much you’ll need me. I don’t desire to be with anyone else.“ He stops there because he knows I want him to stop talking.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate the way he’s here, it’s just that I couldn’t possibly react to his actions the way he deserves.

I close my eyes for a moment and just lean my head back against his shoulder. And I hope that reaction is satisfactory enough for him. I know that it is when his grip slightly tightens and he lets out a content sigh, burying his face in my neck.

He offers to wash my hair and I let him. It’s comforting for the both of us.

It feels like we stay in the shower for an hour, filled with soft touches and gentle promises.

.

Once we’re dry and clothed, I move to organize and pack my things.

„Should I drive you to the airport?“ He knows my answer already but he’s still desperate.

„No, I‘ll take an uber, Paul.“ My answer sounds dry and I mean it this time.

The time filled with reassuring touches and openhearted feelings needs to come to an end.

„Sure, sorry.“ This is the moment his heart picks up. I‘m have super hearing but I can tell.

One last desperate plea stands behind his words. „When will I see you again?“

God, this question will kill me someday.

He earns himself a stern look from me. „You know I hate you asking that. I don’t know, Paul. I’ll never know.“ But he will always ask.

He looks down, avoiding my gaze almost like a puppy.

„I‘m scared it‘ll be a month again.“

In my line of work we both know it can happen again anytime, it most likely will.

„Well, I won’t be home for Christmas.“ I know that will be particularly hard on him so I‘m warning him this time.

He gulps down a lump of what probably are held back tears. It’s about two weeks until Christmas festivities will be in full glory. It stopped meaning a lot to me when I stopped visiting family members for the holiday. Because I don’t get „holidays“.

I don’t think he’s really able to form words after that –or he doesn’t want to anger me more. So I finish packing my suitcase and roll it into the apartment’s hallway.

I reach for my coat and scarf but Paul insists on helping me put them on. I let him.

Paul breaths out heavily, looking at me, and this is where his heartbeat is so fast you could almost hear it. “I guess it’s goodbye for now.”

I chuckle. “Don’t get all awkward about it, you’ll be fine. We’ve done this before.” I remind him.

He attempts to calm down, reaching for my hands to hold. “I know, I guess I’ll survive. Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you like hell.” He admits.

I hum in understanding. “I’ll miss you too.” I stretch a little on my tip toes to reach his lips but he’s already meeting me halfway, melting into the kiss and trying to savor it like a lifeline.

“Don’t forget about me.” He breaths when the kiss ends, leaning his forehead against mine and searching for my eyes.

“I won’t.” Is all I can give him before breaking the contact and opening the door like it’s nothing, closing it like he’s not looking after me, pleading with his eyes for me to stay.

…

Three weeks passed and my work kept me busy enough to have excuses not to go back home.

But now it’s time I open the apartment door, being greeted by the smell of cinnamon and other spices as I walk through the hallway and hang up my coat. I take my time before I say anything but then he’s already standing at the end of the room, looking like he’s seeing ghosts.

He rushes towards me then, embracing me in a hug and I can feel that he puts the weight of his feelings in it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” He sighs like all his stress just vanished from his mind and body. I feel him nuzzling his nose into my neck and breathing in my scent, clearly having missed this.

“Sorry.” Is all I give him for now. He’d never be angry and he’s lost the feeling of disappointment.

He squeezes a little tighter before letting go to look at my face, his hands having already found their place on my waist.

“God, I missed you so much. I was beginning to think I had only ever imagined you. It’s been a long three weeks you could say.” He gives me a lazy but genuine smile and it softens the heaviness of his words.

“I missed you too.” I wait for him to kiss me because I’m too frozen to initiate myself. When his lips find mine it slows down the whole moment and I close my eyes to feel him better, because I’ve been craving it. I’ve been waiting for his soul to comfort mine and let me know how his love for me would never vanish. Because it’s been long three weeks for me as well.

When we attempt to part he can’t resist to add more quiet pecks. He looks at me then –really looks. And his smile falters a bit.

“What’s wrong?” He gently grabs my chin to make me look at him, waiting for an honest answer.

“I’m sorry for not showing up for Christmas.” My answer isn’t the kind of honest he was looking for.

“Don’t. I know you are, my love. It’s all good now, you’re here and I’m so happy with that, wouldn’t want for anything else.” He reassures, caressing my cheek while his eyes tell me he loves me.

“Now tell me what’s on your mind. I don’t love the way you look so tired. I miss the glow in your eyes that I’m used to.” He asks again.

I swallow a lump in my throat.

“Work’s been hard on me. I’ve been hard on myself too. I couldn’t stop thinking about how bad of a person I am to treat you like I don’t love you, only because I fear being left again. I’m so scarred that I can’t love you properly. And I’ll always be sorry for it. But I’m not sure I’ll ever let myself have this, you.” Now a very honest tear rolls down my cheek. And I can tell he’s close to losing tears himself, not because he’s sorry for himself but because he can’t bear to see me like this.

He says my name, trying to get me back to this moment. He’s leaning down to be face to face with me and search my eyes.

“The only thing that matters to me is that you’ll let me love you. That’s all I need. And you do. You have strong boundaries, sure, but those are a part of you and your past. I know your heart trusts me, although your mind is afraid.”

He says my name again while wiping my wet cheek with his thumb.

“I love you. It’s not a show, it’s not pretend, it’s real. You and me, we’re real.” He gives my head a kiss before pressing me to his chest. And I feel lighter now.

Once we made it inside, I knew just about what he was gonna say.

„I feel the overwhelming need to make sure you fall asleep safely.“ Though it was obvious that the inside of my apartment was safe enough for me to be alone. But I was aware that he meant a different kind of safe.

James wanted to make sure I wouldn’t trip while changing my clothes or washing my face and brushing my teeth. More so he probably wanted to watch me. To have me feel domestic and familiar, to be part of my space.

Where other men would’ve thought of using the influence of alcohol to make it it into the bed of a woman, James was already mesmerized by the simplicity of me getting unready.

„You should go.“ Sure, the idea of him staying made my chest feel light, in the best way. But I couldn’t allow that, especially not after today.

I noticed the way he hid his disappointment, but he was no man to not accept a ‚no‘ immediately.

„Alright, make sure you get good rest.“ He nodded and opened the door for himself. „See you tomorrow.“ He added before leaving me alone in the silence of my small apartment.

I knew he‘d be back tomorrow, checking in to see I took care of myself if he couldn’t.

•••

I woke up, heaving for air. My weekly nightmares shook me to my core. But that’s not all they were, they were memories. Dark ones. The ones that made me who I am. I didn’t believe in no god, but sometimes I questioned the reason why I couldn’t lose my dreams, not for one week, why I had to be reminded of my past day after day. But I had accepted that I would never find a reason.

I was aware that Bucky had similar dreams, that he was afraid to fall asleep and wake up as someone entirely different. But I figured that triggering each other with this trauma would hardly help any one of us.

After catching a normal rhythm to breathe I walked into my kitchen to fill a glass of tap water, gulping it down like I had been walking in a desert for days. Not seconds after a heavy knock on my door made me alert. It was seven in the morning on a Sunday…

So I made my way over slowly, peaking through the spy hole of the door. When I saw James standing there, probably just waiting a second before getting out his own keys to my door, I huffed, surprised once again by his lack of care for my privacy.

Before he could knock again, I pulled open the creaking door, revealing James in his biker fit, all black. I was just standing there in an old t-shirt and underwear, clearly not awaiting company.

„Hey, doll.“ He greeted with a grin. I could tell he tried to avert his gaze from my body and the ridiculous amount of fabric (not) covering it.

„What are you doing here?“ I skipped right to the question burning on my tongue. Nonetheless I let him inside in the process, closing the door behind us.

„Just wanted to make hungover breakfast, the usual.“ He already made himself comfortable in the kitchen. You could think he was a roommate.

„I just woke up, idiot.“ I shoved his shoulder.

„Sorry, doll. I got duties to fulfill.“ He just started preparing the breakfast.

„You mean usual boyfriend duties?“ I raised a brow and gave him a sceptic look.

He shrugged while whisking eggs. „Call them whatever you want, I will not feel bad for making my friend breakfast.“ The way he said „friend“ felt wrong. Because we both knew I wasn’t just a friend to him.

I had no motivation to discuss this topic with him so I just dropped it there and went into my bedroom to put on some pants.

„I‘m really not in the mood for an early Sunday morning.“ I told him as I walked back. He was already heating up a pan.

James chuckled. „Alright, I already know you’re no morning person, thanks for the heads up though.“

I groaned as I leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him do his thing. „Had another nightmare.“ I absentmindedly added, already dreaming about how good the omelette he was making was gonna taste.

He added the eggs to the pan and turns around, wearing a sincere look. „Tell me about it.“

„I‘m fine..“ I shook my head. But I already knew he wouldn’t let it go that easily.

„We‘re colleagues and friends, we‘ve been through shit together. Plus, you know I have them too. I know what it feels like…“

I was aware he wasn’t actually making me tell him because he was curious or nosy about the contents of my nightmares, but he wanted me to know that I could trust him. He cares about my wellbeing. He cares goddamnit, like that wouldn’t already ruin him.

„Just classic flashbacks of my years as an agent. The dark ones.“ I explained simply.

James hummed in understanding, knowing exactly what kind of flashbacks I‘m talking about. As someone who’s been tortured for weeks and then used as a weapon, he could say he gets those too.

„Is it the killings or the pain?“ His voice was low and as he locked eyes with me I felt like he was looking straight through my soul, or trying to at least.

„Neither. I think it’s my anger that I fear the most. All those years I was so angry, but I put that energy into stupid missions, letting others use that anger against me.“ Trusting people had never been my strong suit but since then I’ve never even tried to trust anyone again. Well, until James, I suppose.

„You know, you can’t blame yourself for all the things you did to complete those missions. You were given false info, were purposely misled to execute tasks others weren’t ready for.“ He reminded me.

Although he didn’t know all that much about my past, I‘ve told him a thing or two about my first few years as an agent. I couldn’t bear to tell him all lies or keep everything hidden. It was a trauma we connected over. I got him, he got me. That’s how it all started.

„I know.“ I give him a thankful grin. „Be careful not to burn your perfect omelette, chef.“ I shoved him playfully. „I‘m getting hungry. It better be good.“

He looked at me a second longer before he turned to his masterwork. „You know it will be.“

•••

WEEKS LATER

present

•••

Mission parameters: maintain cover. Blend in. No unnecessary risks.

The briefing made it sound simple — walk side by side, stay close, look natural. But when his hand finds mine, it feels anything but.

I glance up, ready to make some quiet excuse to pull away, but Bucky’s grip only tightens — not forceful, just steady. Reassuring. Like he’s grounding us both in something real neither of us should reach for.

His voice is low, almost careful.

„Easy, doll… someone might notice if we let go now.”

I know what he’s doing — staying in character. And yet, there’s something in the way his thumb lingers against my skin that has nothing to do with the mission.

We‘ve both danced around it for months — the looks, the hesitation, the words left unspoken.

Tonight, there’s no space for pretending. Just the warmth of his hand in mine, and the silence heavy with everything neither of us dares to say.

—

We keep walking, our task at the front of our- well, my mind at least. Our joined hands swinging slightly as we seem to blend into the crowd.

I can feel the weight of the stares on me — or maybe it’s just the weight of his touch.

„Barnes,” I whisper, my voice steady but quiet enough not to carry emotion. „You’re laying it on thick.”

He huffs out a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh. „Just trying to sell it.”

„Right,” I say, though my pulse betrays me. „Sell it.”

For a moment neither of us speak.

My comm crackles softly in my ear — a reminder that this isn’t about what’s between me and James. Not tonight.

I continue to scan the crowd and after a moment, my eyes land on a man in a charcoal suit near the bar. He’s nursing a drink he hasn’t touched in ten minutes. The target. I tilt my head slightly in his direction.

„Got visual,” I murmur, just loud enough for Bucky to hear. „Two o’clock.”

He shifts subtly beside me, his body language easy, relaxed — the picture of a man out for an evening with someone he cares about. Only I can feel the tension in the way his arm brushes mine.

„That’s him,” he says, voice low. „Our mark looks jumpy.”

„Intel said he’s planning to make contact with the buyer tonight,” I reply. „We intercept before that happens.”

He nods once, eyes scanning the room. „You take the approach. I’ll watch your six.”

I glance up at him — just a second too long — and something unspoken flickers in his gaze. He knows what I‘m thinking: that I don’t need protecting. That we‘ve both done this a hundred times. But he’ll stay close anyway.

“Copy that,” I say, forcing my tone back into mission mode.

I release his hand, slipping into the rhythm of the assignment — smile, move, blend in. But even as I step toward the target, I can still feel the ghost of his touch, grounding me in ways I don’t have time to unpack.

taglist:

I just press out a polite smile in return. It’s not that I genuinely don’t like the guy… It’s just that he doesn’t mean anything to me. I know that his intentions are hardly innocent the way he’s been flirting with me. And I don’t intend to fall into anyone‘s bed tonight. I don’t sleep with people. I prefer the deep silence of my own walls. Quite frankly, right now I just enjoy all the looks James is giving him because I know it will be followed by a threat before the night ends.

“It was nice talking to you, Leo. I gotta go now, though.” I stand up and excuse myself. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.” He adds and gives me a subtle wink. I try my best to appear blushed before I turn to find the man who’s been shadowing me like a bodyguard this whole evening. Therefore it doesn’t take long to find him. He’s still in his spot at the wine bar, already or still looking at me. We’re not on duty but he does not care to change his routine. He likes to have his eyes on me, no matter where we are or in what kind of situation we‘re in.

“I thought I might inform you that you are everything but subtle.” I move to lean against the bar next to him and nudge James a little. He still looks agitated by the man I just spoke with.

He shrugs. “That wasn’t what I was going for anyway. Hope he knows he will never get any favors from me again.” His tone feels quite cold. I know he means it.

“I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not even your date.” I remind him. I’m not bitter about it, I wouldn’t really wanna be. But he seems to forget. Now he looks at my face for the first time since I approached. “Not because I didn’t ask you.” Is his turn to remind me. It’s true, he did ask the moment we got invited to this gala.

I refuse to let him take me out. I already feel bad lying to him as a „friend“. I can’t have him poke his nose into business involving my past life or my true identity.

“I don’t want to be your or anyone's date. We’re friends.” I lie. Of course we’re not. He’s in love with me and I just can’t have anyone be this close to me. It’s bad enough that I caved in and gave him my spare key for emergencies, that he uses every other night to let himself in and make or bring dinner for me.

I know I probably just punched him in his guts with my words but I need to keep him grounded somehow. Otherwise he will find a way to make himself more than a friend.

„I still hate watching you letting other guys this close to you. Probably the only fun you’re getting from that is riling me up with it. Because you know exactly I’ll make sure he will never speak to you again.” His dark eyes search for mine, telling me exactly how serious he is.

„Leo may be interested in me –or more so; my body– but that doesn’t mean I would ever reciprocate that.“ I reply dryly.

He should know my desire to have intercourse with anyone is pretty much nonexistent. In all the years that we’ve known each other I’ve never said anything that would prove the opposite.

I know he’s had his fair share of women in his lifetime (which is way longer than mine) but he’s definitely no womanizer anymore. He’s a respectful man in every sense. I know he wouldn’t have sex with anyone right now. Even if he tried, he couldn’t, his obsession with me way too prominent in his head. But I’m definitely not really an option either. And I know it’s never his intention to just get into my pants, like it was Leo’s.

“I know.” He takes the last sip of his drink. “But he has no right to see you in that way. I understand that he has eyes and men can hardly ignore how beautiful you are but you’re not there to be his object. I’ll make sure he knows that.” His gaze follows Leo throughout the room, already planning what to do.

“I know you will and I know I don’t have a say in it.” I sigh. “I’m tired. I’m gonna head home.” I can’t stop the yawn that comes with teary eyes.

He bounces off the bar instantly. “I’ll drive you.” It’s not really an offer. I know he won’t be able to close a single eye tonight if he wouldn’t make sure I arrived at my apartment safely, without unwanted company.

I really wasn’t in the mood to argue about this so I gulped down the last sip of my drink and made my way to the exit, knowing James would be my shadow.

In all honesty, I could feel the effect of the liquor I’ve been drinking all night. It wasn’t all that much, but it made me tired and my mind hazy. It was when I felt Bucky grab my arm gently that I knew I haven’t been walking exactly in a straight line.

“Woah. Easy, doll…” His nicknames for me never fail to make me warm inside.

We made our way to the garage, him leading me to his car. Opening the passenger seat and making sure I didn’t hurt myself sitting down. Only then he walked over and joined, starting the engine and driving off.

“How many drinks did you have today?” His voice was a little raspy. He only looked at me for a second before concentrating on the traffic ahead.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been watching me all night, probably counting the glasses I had.” I scoffed.

“What’s with the attitude today? You sure you didn’t want to accompany Leo?”

This had to be a joke. I looked at him, searching for amusement in his face. No sign.

“You know what? Maybe I should’ve gone with him. He seems like a good guy, not just good looking. Besides, it’s not the first time he’s practically begged for a chance.” Now I felt like playing games.

I could sense his jaw tensing, trying his best not to look too affected.

“Hell, no. Not gonna happen. Not today, not ever. He’s just rich because of his daddy’s company. He’s used to getting everything he wants. If you would seriously consider going out with any man, go out with me. Everything else is not even open for discussion.”

I scoff again, feeling almost offended.

“Are you my fucking Dad, James?! I don’t think so. I’m free to date or fuck whoever I want.” Well, even I surprise myself sometimes.

Bucky raises his brows, fists clenching around the wheel. “Fuck? You don’t do that.”

Jesus, I know I don’t, but I gotta say something to get him to stop behaving like a possessive brother…

“I don’t tell you about it.” I shrug and try to play it down.

We’ve arrived now and he parks the car, getting the chance to look at me. Jealously and irritation written all over his handsome face.

“Fuck that. Tell me the truth. You haven’t slept with anyone since we’re close, right?” I can tell he’s desperate for the answer to be no.

I think for a second. What do I tell him? If I say that I have, I know it will trigger something dark.

“I–“ I pause, stepping out the car for some air. He follows right through.

“I don’t think I have, no…” I admit truthfully. James lets go of a breath he’s been holding since he asked.

He comes closer and settles his hand in the small of my back, leading me to the elevator of my apartment building. “Don’t lie to me, doll. You know the way I feel about that.” He’s calmer now.

Hell, if he knew…