Maple

It was short, the tug on your leg.

You peer down to see a little girl. Soft brown hair with little clips to keep it out of her face, round face and blue eyes that were full of fear.

“Hey there,” you say, and crouch down. “You okay?”

She blinks, tears falling down her cheeks. “I can’t find my daddy.”

“Hey, hey,” you reach to rub her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

She lets out a sob, unable to control the hysteria shaking her small frame.

“Oh sweetheart,” you breathe, and offer her your hand. “Hold my hand, we’ll find your daddy. Don’t worry.”

She continued to sob, unrestrained sounds that twisted your heart.

You walked slowly down the aisle, allowing her to keep pace with you, heading for the large central aisle where it would be easiest to be found.

“El!” You hear someone shout.

“Daddy?” The little girl turns her head, her eyes alert and wide.

You peek over your shoulder to see a man rushing over.

“Oh my babygirl,”

The girl lets go of your hand, her little feet pushing her forward into the arms of the man.

You smile to yourself, relieved, yet feeling a little out of place at witnessing the reunion.

The man presses his forehead to the little girl’s, his daughter you assumed.

“Are you okay?” He spoke quickly. “You aren’t hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I saw glitter pens, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he spoke as if to himself. “You’re safe.”

It was then his eyes flicker up to you. They are the exact same shade as his daughter’s, a light blue that gave away more emotion than any expression. His hair was the same colour also, pulled back into a messy bun. His face differed from hers entirely, a strong jawline marked with stubble peppered with grey, and faint lines across his forehead and eyes.

He scoops his daughter up with ease, her body looking tiny next to his large build.

“Hi, uh,” he shifts awkwardly.

“Hi,” you press your lips together nervously.

“I, uh, thanks for taking care of my Eileen,” he says.

You shake your head. “It was nothing, only for a few minutes.”

“Still,” his lips twitched. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you shrug and turn to walk away.

“Come back!” the little girl, Eileen, called.

“El,” you hear her father hiss. “Leave the lady be.”

You feel a tug on your hand, and peek down to see the girl, who must have forced her way down and rushed to catch you.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

You tilt your head, giving it quietly.

“Pretty,” she smiles. “You’re pretty.”

“Eileen Barnes,” you hear her father call out disapprovingly.

“What?” Her eyes moved to her father. “She’s pretty.”

Her father sighs. “She’s busy, babygirl. Let her go.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, and crouch to Eileen’s level.

“I think your dad is wants to get going,” you tell her softly.

She frowns, her eyes appearing watery once again. “I don’t want to.”

Her father stepped closer.

“Eileen,” he put a hand on her back. “That is enough.”

His voice was gentle yet firm.

“But Daddy,” she began to protest. “She’s pretty and kind. Can we be friends?”

“El, it’s not that easy,” he breathes.

“It’s okay,” your voice came out stronger. “Eileen?”

She peeks up, her eyes meet yours.

“I can be your friend,” you say to her.

“Daddy’s friend too,” she insists. “Daddy is always alone. Daddy needs a friend.”

“Eileen,” her father’s face was starting to go red.

You laugh quietly. “That’s up to your daddy.”

She looks up expectantly at her father.

“El, I—” he looks at you, eyes moving up and down you.

“You are pretty,” he murmurs. “Really pretty.”

You feel blood rush to your cheeks.

Eileen beams, her eyes moving between you and her father.

“I’m Bucky,” he holds out a hand to you. “Bucky Barnes, this is my daughter, Eileen.”

You reach out, allowing him to shake your hand, his hand rough to touch, yet gentle.

“Hi,” you breathe, still a little flustered from his compliment.

Bucky smiles, an expression that makes your heart stutter a moment. The pull of those pink lips, the way it crinkled at the edges of his eyes. It felt like you could stare at him for days and never tire of him.

“I—” he cleared his throat. “Look I know this is, uh, weird. But, Eileen likes you, and she won’t stop until I ask. Would you… do you want to get coffee sometime?”

“Oh,” you stammer. “Yeah, sure.”

You reach into your bag, ripping off the bottom of your shopping list and pulling out a pen, then scribbling down your phone number.

You fold it in half and hold it out between your fingers.

He takes it carefully.

“Text me?” You ask with a small smile.

“Uh,” his eyes move to your lips for a moment. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Your smile widens and you pat Eileen on the head.

“See you around then,” you say. “Eileen… Bucky.”

Eileen looks up at her father grinning.

“She’s nice,” she says as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Bucky holds the piece of paper tightly between his fingers, eyes on you walking away.

“Yeah, she is.”

That evening you’d checked your phone constantly, waiting for the text that never came. You checked again the next morning to nothing, and began to wonder if you’d written the wrong number.

A few more days pass, when you hear your phone buzz once.

You reach over from your place on the sofa, eyes still on the comforting program you are watching.

A quick glance shows a text from an unfamiliar number.

Hey, it’s Bucky. We met at the grocery store the other day. Do you still want to meet for coffee sometime?

A small smile graces your face, warmth filling your veins. He hadn’t forgotten.

I’d love to. Any recommendations? x

You send the text without thinking, jerking slightly as you realise that you’d put a kiss on there out of habit.

A few minutes pass before the next buzz.

There’s a coffee shop in the park?

Immediately another text followed.

Eileen will be coming, she can play on the swings whilst we chat x

Your lips part, seeing him also put a kiss made you smile wider.

That’ll be nice. I’d love to see Eileen again! x

She’s dying to see you again, been pestering me every day to skip work to take her x

You laugh at that.

I’d skip work for her x

There is a brief pause.

I would too, if I could. Would Saturday work for you? Say around 9am? x

You check your calendar briefly, confirming what you already knew - you weren’t busy.

That will be fine. Pretty early don’t you think? x

El will be asking when we are going all day if not. She likes to get me up at 6, and there is no stopping her once she is up x

You laugh again to yourself, there was something endearing about how this man complained about his daughter, yet you could hear his adoration for her.

I’ll be sure to get there in time for Eileen x

Appreciate that, doll. See you Saturday x

You duck your head slightly at the nickname, slightly embarrassed at how your heart squeezed despite being alone.

The park is quiet, filled with only a few people running or cycling and the distant sounds of birds.

It takes a few minutes to walk to the coffee shop, the temperature is warm, not too hot to be uncomfortable but cool enough you could wear a light jacket.

The air fills with the smell of freshly baked goods and coffee, the shop itself is small, most of the seating outside on paving slabs overlooking a playground.

You linger a moment, only seeing people enter to take out and then depart. You turn, scanning the area before reaching for your phone checking for a message. There was none.

You silently remind yourself it is only ten to nine, he wasn’t late.

The sound of your name startles you. Your head whips around until you notice little Eileen running at you.

You crouch down allowing her to fling her little arms around you.

“You came!” She declared as you broke apart.

“Of course,” you reach and boop her nose with your index finger. She grins, reaching to do the same to your nose.

You hear someone chuckle above you, and look up to see Bucky. He’s in dark blue jeans, a wool jacket with a hint of red peeking underneath.

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Daddy!” Eileen rushes back to her father, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward.

“She came! She came!” The little girl bounced in place with enthusiasm.

“Easy El,” he speaks softly. “I’ve already lost one arm, I don’t need to lose another.”

You get to your feet, noticing the girl pulling on his metal fingers.

You feel yourself smiling at the sight. “Shall we go in?”

Bucky nods politely, wrapping his hand around El’s.

“Ohhhh,” Eileen pulls away from her father, the moment you enter. “Look daddy! Pain a-“ she frowns as she thinks. “Pain Aux Chocolat!”

Bucky chuckles with a shake of his head.

“She has a lot of energy,” you note.

“Yeah,” he puts his hands on his pockets, glancing at you a moment before returning his gaze back to the little girl. “She’s always like this.”

“She wanders off a lot?”

“Mhm,” he sighs. “She saw some glitter gel pens when you found her. One minute he was next to me, I turned to reach for some tins and then she was gone.”

“All that for gel pens?” You ask, amused.

“Yep,” he gives a slight smile. “They kept her busy whilst I made dinner.”

You let out a snicker.

“What?” His eyes now return to you.

“I’m sorry,” you press your lips together to suppress your smile. “That’s cute.”

“Hm,” he huffs. “Cute, eh?”

You give him a timid shrug and step forward to join Eileen.

“Hi,” you greet the barista. “Can I have a Latte, one croissant, a pain aux chocolate…” you look down to Eileen. “Would you like a drink, El?”

“Hot chocolate!” She declares. “Please.”

“A hot chocolate,” you turn to Bucky. “Bucky, what would you like?”

He recoils in surprise and approaches, your back tingles as you feel him behind your back. “A black coffee please.”

The barista puts it all in and you pull out your card, tapping it against the reader.

“They’ll just be a few minutes,” the barista tells you.

“Thanks,” you smile and walk around.

“You should have let me pay,” Bucky shakes his head, his hand holding El’s again.

“It’s fine, I wanted to get Eileen something,” you give her a grin.

Bucky sighs.

“Is he always grumpy?” You ask El, teasing him.

“Yes,” she nods.

“El,” his lips twitch and eyebrows scrunch together. “Please.”

The barista then placed down the drinks with two paper bags.

“Thank you!” El chimed in a sing-song voice, eagerly reaching for the drinks.

You get there first, picking up the ones in her reach.

“Thanks,” Bucky sounds immensely grateful. “Eileen, please be careful, they’re hot.”

She gives him a sassy look.

“Why don’t you take the food?” You compromise.

Eileen nods, reaching to take the paper bags.

Bucky reaches to take his coffee. “Let’s find a seat.”

He leads you outside, it remains quiet, peaceful. Bucky strolls to the table closest to the playground, whilst your eyes remain on his back, his wide shoulders.

He pulls out a chair, then another, places his cup down and picks up his daughter to help her up into the chair.

“Take a seat, doll,” he gestures, letting you sit first before taking the last seat.

You carefully reach over placing the hot chocolate in front of Eileen and taking the Croissant.

Eileen seems too distracted by her own food to pay any mind to anything else.

Bucky chuckles fondly before taking a long sip of his drink.

“Want any?” You ask him as you pull part of the croissant apart to eat.

“Hmm,” he considers for a moment. “Sure.”

You smile, ripping off the other end. He leans over parting his lips slightly, you carefully put the piece in his mouth. His mouth closed and he chewed carefully.

You have to sift your eyes away, a warmth filling you at how he’d trusted you.

“Daddy never eats here,” Eileen cuts through your reverie, her blue eyes on her father as she concentrated. “Says it's bad for his muscles.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at Bucky.

He leans back, sipping his coffee and doesn’t say a word.

“You enjoy the gym?” You ask.

“Not as much as I’d like,” he places his cup down again. “I’m ex-Army.”

“What do you do now?” You ask, taking a sip of your own drink.

“Boring office job,” he admits. “But I can work from home, and take care of this one.”

He pats his daughter on the head.

“What about—“ you pause, hesitating.

“Eileen’s mother?” He finishes.

Eileen looks at her father, as though sensing the tension of the moment, then at you.

“Mummy works away,” she speaks as if she has said it a thousand times, her eyes suddenly appearing tired.

“Busy lady,” you reply.

“Mmm,” you hear the disapproval in Bucky’s tone. “Eileen, do you want to go try the swings whilst we chat?”

“Huh?” She perks up, then drops from her seat. “Yay!!”

She runs off eagerly into the playground.

“Stay in my sight!” He calls after her.

You watch Bucky once more, his face smooth yet his eyes soften, betraying the love he has for his daughter.

“El’s mother,” he begins, eyes still on his little girl. “She doesn’t come to see Eileen much. El barely remembers her.”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, unsure what to say.

He shrugs. “We have each other. It’s enough.”

You gently place a hand on his arm. “You’re a single parent, you shouldn’t have to face it alone.”

“Despite what El told you, I do have friends,” his eyes return to you. “They are few, but I couldn’t have gotten this far without them.”

You nod, relieved. Bucky’s eyes then flicker over you, taking you in.

“You look lovely,” he comments.

“Thank you,” you lean back, hoping the distance will hide the blush on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have a real first date,” you allow your eyes to drift back to him, his eyes on his daughter - now climbing steps on a slide. “You deserve to be taken out for dinner.”

“You don’t need to explain,” your voice is soft. “Your little girl has to come first.”

His head turns slightly, giving you a faint smile. “Thank you.”

“Besides, I wanted to see El again,” you continue. “She’s adorable.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, she is.”

There is a moment of silence. You keep your eyes on Bucky, taking in how his eyes never strayed from his daughter, occasionally drinking his coffee whilst his other hand lay on his lap.

“What do you do for work?” Bucky’s voice is quiet.

You twitch a second. “It’s pretty boring. I'm an archivist. Spend all day typing up what is written in old dusty books, or help people find old dusty books.”

He chuckles. “Sounds like it makes you happy.”

Your voice gets caught in your mouth for a moment. “It does,” you admit.

Bucky shifts then, turning his seat towards you.

“Would you like another drink?” He asks, the creases in his expression giving away his nerves.

“No, thank you,” you shift to face him. “I would like to just talk.”

He smiles then. Not the faint twitches of his lips before, a real smile. It seemed to light up his whole face, brightening his eyes, crinkling at the edges and his forehead.

“Your eyes,” you lean forward, heart thrumming a little harder from his gaze. “They’re incredible.”

His face drops, lips parting slightly as he drinks in your words.

“Uh, thank you,” he stammers.

You smile at him, and reach over to place your hand on his.

He swallows, suddenly nervous. “Do you like Italian food?”

“Yeah,” you respond. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s a little Italian restaurant not far from my place,” he says. “We could go, if you’d like.”

“With Eileen?”

He shakes his head. “Eileen is staying with my friend on Tuesday night. It would be just the two of us.”

“I think I’d enjoy that,” your lips twitch.

“More than this?” He playfully responds.

“It’s nice,” you smirk. “And I adore Eileen. But I’d also like to get you alone.”

“Alone, huh?” He chuckles. “That might be difficult.”

You grin at his face, he seemed so happy, a far cry from the grumpy man from earlier.

“I can share,” you tease.

“Yeah?” He turned his hand over, fingers interweaving with yours.

“Yeah.”

Bucky squeezed your hand. “You know in a fight she’d win, every time.”

“I know,” you nod. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Daddy!” Eileen was running over. “Did you see? Did you see? I was so fast.”

You suppress a laugh.

“Oh, I’m sorry, babygirl. I missed it,” he responded. “Go again, I’m watching.”

The little girl’s eyes narrow, eyes flickering between the two of you before running back, climbing the steps and flinging herself down the slide at speed.

“Oh my—” you begin to get to your feet in fear for her.

“Relax,” Bucky mutters. “She’ll be alright.”

“Did you see, Daddy?” Eileen shouts.

“I saw,” he calls back. “You were faster than my bike.”

Eileen beamed, running back over the bark chips to the table.

“That was fun!” She declared.

Bucky grins, pleased to see his little girl so happy. “Need a rest?”

She nods, climbing onto the chair. “I need a drink.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at his daughter.

“Please,” she adds.

“Good girl,” he shakes his head fondly, reaching down into a bag Eileen had been carrying, passing over a drink bottle from the side to her.

She happily slurped through the straw.

“You’re a good dad,” you nudge him gently.

“I try,” he murmurs.

“Daddy’s happy,” she notices and then looks at you. “You’re happy.”

She takes another sip. “You make Daddy happy.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, El,” he chuckles.

“You laugh when I’m silly. Or Uncle Sam is silly,” she says.

“Uncle Sam?”

“My best friend,” Bucky explains. “He’s a pain, but he takes care of El when I can’t.”

“It’s nice of him to take care of Eileen,”

“I love Uncle Sam!” El declares in agreement.

“Because Uncle Sam lets you stay up till 8pm, and brings you chocolate,” Bucky shakes his head in disapproval.

She shrugs, taking one more sip from her drink before taking off again.

“What time do you want to meet on Tuesday?” You ask.

“I’ll book the table for seven,” his eyes were on his daughter.

You nod. “Seven then.”

He nods, his eyes flickering back to you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

You shift from one foot to the other, tugging at the material of your dress praying it’s not too short. You chose a simple red dress that hung just above your knees, in the hopes of being alluring yet modest.

You hear someone call your name, your eyes flicker around, seeing no one until you turn and spot Bucky.

He’s dressed semi formally, jeans, black boots, a light blue shirt that matched his eyes and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Hello,” his voice is quiet yet warm, his left hand holds out a small bunch of flowers with a nervous smile. “These are for you.”

You cannot contain the smile that crosses your face. “Thank you.”

His face remains still, but his eyes betray his relief. “I wasn’t sure what you would like,” he confessed.

You shake your head, stepping closer. “They are beautiful.”

“Shall we—” he hesitated. “Shall we go in?”

You nod, holding the flowers in one of your hands and reaching out with the other to offer your hand.

Instinctively, the fingers of his right hand weave between yours. They are gentle yet slightly rough to touch, yet somehow the feel of them sends a slight tingle up your arm.

Bucky guides you forward to the door, holding his jacket with his thumb and the rest of his fingers grasping the handle, holding it open for you.

“Thank you,” you give him a smile.

His lips twitch slightly upward, and follow you into the restaurant.

It’s small, yet quiet, simplistic in its decor.

You blink as you take it in, eyes flickering as he tugs your hand carefully to speak to the server.

“Table for two, under the name Barnes,” his voice is low.

The server nods. “Ah yes, I have it. Good to see you Mr Barnes.”

They pick up two menus and lead you to a small table to the side, a little out of earshot of the nearest table.

“Here,” Bucky pulls out a chair for you as the server places down the menus.

“Thanks,” you sit, place the flowers carefully under your chair and shrug off your jacket.

Bucky gives you a nod of satisfaction before taking his seat, slinging his jacket casually over the back.

“Any allergies we need to be aware of?” The server asks.

You shake your head.

Bucky doesn’t speak, his eyes remain on you.

The server nods and departs.

“You’re quiet,” you notice.

“I normally am,” he leans back, his gaze still intense.

Now it felt like a first date, the momentarily silence, the awkward feeling sinking into your stomach. Was this a mistake? Did he really like you?

“I come here with Sam,” he breaks the silence.

“Like— on a date?” Your tone is casual yet teasing. His nose crinkles together for a moment before he lets out a soft chuckle that shoots through you, the sound of it makes you want to join in.

“No,” a slight smile remains on his face. “We’d end up killing each other at the mere suggestion of sharing anything.”

You smile easily. “I share.”

“I remember,” he exhales. “Not sure I can say the same.”

Your lips part slightly at the implication.

“You look nice,” he adds, before allowing his eyes to move slowly over you.

There was something there, in the tenor of his voice, the way he was so obvious, yet taking it slow. It drew you in dangerously fast.

You feel blood rush to your face.

“So do you,” you admit quietly, eyes on the stubble of his jawline. Even with his long hair slicked back and the stubble, he looks smart, and the shade of his shirt brings out his features. “You’re— you’re pretty.”

His eyes widened a moment before a real smile graced his face. “Not sure I’ve been called pretty before.”

You pursue your lips. “Well, I think you are.”

He leans over the table as if to speak for no one to hear. Instead a voice interrupts you, the server.

“Can I get you any drinks?”

You see a flash of frustration on Bucky's face, and observe him inhale as if to calm himself.

“I’ll have a glass of white wine please,” you say, giving the server a polite glance.

“I’ll have a beer,” Bucky’s voice was low, tight with emotion that was barely contained.

“I’ll be right over with them,” they walk away again.

Once out of earshot you hear Bucky make a noise of dissatisfaction, one that makes you cover your mouth to hide laughter.

“Eileen is right, you are grumpy,” you allow yourself a small giggle once the server is out of earshot.

“Aren’t you?” His eyes never strayed away from yours. “They had to interrupt when things were just getting interesting.”

“There is no rush,” you say softly.

“I only get tonight with you sweetheart,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know when we will get time like this again.”

“I don’t mind Eileen coming,” you remind him.

“I’d rather not have the questions,” he admits. “El was so young when her mother and I separated. I never expected to meet someone else. I never prepared her for it.”

Your head tilts, sensing guilt.

“Bucky,” you lean forward. “We don’t have to rush, or do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to feel any guilt.”

His eyebrows come together. “It’s not—” he pauses. “It’s been me and El for so long. She has always been my priority.”

You nod. “As it should be.”

The server then approached again, placing drinks on the table, then asked for the order. The pair of you are quick to order, wishing to return to the conversation.

As soon as they left, Bucky reached to take his glass, having a sip.

“I can’t give you what I’d want to give you,” his voice is quiet, almost tired. “I can’t put you first. If my babygirl needs care when we have a date, I have to pick her.”

He sounded as if he were convincing himself.

“Well, we aren’t there yet,” you speak lightly. “Why don’t we see how today goes before worrying about the future?”

He closes his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he nods, and his right hand reaches over. “We have to make the most of this.”

You copy him, stretching to take it — his large hand eclipsing yours.

“I’ve never seen you around town before,” his voice was quiet. “Not before the other week, have you just moved here?”

“Mm,” you hum the affirmative. “About six months ago, I was offered a higher paid position at the museum. Thought it might be more of a challenge.”

“And is it?”

You sip your wine at the thought of your job. “It feels like I’m doing three people’s jobs,” you admit. “There is more to record, more things to go wrong, more people to cover for.”

You finish your drink and sigh.

“I love it, but I’m not sure the pay is worth the workload,” your voice is quiet.

“Mm,” he hums. “You’re overworked.”

You shrug. “For now,” you give him a half smile. “It’s been stressful the past few months. The move, new job… but meeting you gave me a little bit of normalcy.”

You pause before admitting the next part.

“I was looking at my phone to see if you’d text me, rather than panicking over bills,” you keep your eyes to the table. “It was nice.”

He chuckles softly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to text you,” he breathed. “I— I was afraid. It’s been so long since I did this.”

“You’re good at it,” you reassure him. “You make me feel seen. You’re listening to me, paying attention to me even when I’m not asking you anything.”

“You’re more interesting,” he says, his fingers now making patterns on the back of your hand.

You shake your head slowly. “You’re an ex-army vet, with a metal arm and an adorable little girl. You are far more interesting.”

It was then your food was brought over and placed before you continue.

“I might have many stories to tell, but many of them aren’t pleasant, sweetheart,” his tone is dark and warning. “I haven’t lived a pleasant life.”

You let go of his hand, picking up a doughball from his plate and holding it between your fingers in front of him to eat.

Bucky eyes you for a moment before biting into it. Something about feeding the man felt strangely intimate.

“If you give me a chance,” your voice came out quiet yet determined. “I’d like to help you create some nice stories. Happy stories. Some about Eileen that you can embarrass her with when she’s older. Some about you and Sam… and maybe some about you and me.”

His brow furrows, contemplating.

“I'd enjoy that,” he admits.

You squeeze his hand a moment before starting to eat. The two of you eat, not quite in silence but in a comfortable quiet where you’d occasionally speak to comment on the food.

You peek up to look at Bucky, the blue of his eyes seem endless as he ponders.

“What is it?” You ask.

“What do you do outside work?” His eyes flicker up to you.

“Currently, not much, I’m still decorating,” you admit. “I like going on walks.”

“Hmmm,” he leans back.

“What about you?”

“Most of my time is taken up by Eileen,” he admits, his eyes still distant. “Or I tinker with my bike.”

“You ride motorbikes?” You tilt your head in interest.

Bucky nods. “Even when I was a kid. My friends and I used to piece together scrap to ride around.”

He pauses a moment, measuring your interest before continuing. “Working on bikes led me to the Army. I thought I could get a degree through them. Didn’t turn out as I planned.”

He looks down to his hands. “I ended up a Sniper. Turns out my hands were good for things other than fixing bikes.”

You could hear the stiffness in his voice, but he continued as if he could no longer contain himself.

“I got promoted to Sergeant,” he then twitched, his metal arm flexing slightly. “Then I lost my arm, and was allowed to resign my commission.”

“I met El’s mother a few months later,” his eyes then locked on yours. “I was still recovering, and she didn't look at me with pity. Things went fast, El came along and…”

His eyes appeared to look behind you, distant as though reliving a memory.

“When I proposed she said no,” his jaw came together, eyes watering slightly. “She screamed about how she’d put up with me for the past two years, and how Eileen and I were holding her back, keeping her life on hold, stopping her career.”

His eyes flicker back to yours.

“El thinks her mother walked away,” his voice was quiet. “But in truth, the next morning I packed up and took El with me. She was seven months old. Her mother never even contested when I requested custody of her.”

“You never got in trouble for taking El?” You wonder.

“No,” he shakes his head. “As I said, my custody was never contested. In truth, I believe she wanted me to walk out and take El with me.”

You lean over, taking both his hands in yours.

“You did the right thing,” you speak softly.

“So I’m told,” his eyes are sad, guilt etched into the lines of his face.

“What would you like for dessert?” You ask, keeping your eyes fixed on him, trying to distract him from his train of thought.

“Hmm?” He blinks. “I don’t know…”

“I was thinking of a tiramisu,” you say. “But the sorbet also looks good.”

“I usually skip and have a coffee,” he admits.

“We could share,” you suggest. “If you’d like.”

His eyes refocus.

“I can’t remember last time I had a tiramisu,” a semblance of enthusiasm began to seep into his voice.

You smile, heart fluttering slightly at your success.

You remove the silk gown slowly before hanging it up, and slipping into your bed.

You allow yourself a soft sigh, eyes closing your eyes as your fingers interlock, remembering the feel of his hands on yours.

Just as your hands begin to trail up your arms, there is a faint buzz. You ignore it, shifting under the covers in an attempt to keep warm.

You hear another buzz, and groan slightly as your eyes flicker open.

Your hand aimlessly reaches for your phone on your bedside table. With a tug, the cable disconnects and you pull the phone in front of your face to see Bucky’s name on the screen.

Your thumb lingers for a moment before pressing the green button and raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You keep your voice quiet, to avoid disturbing others.

“Hey,” you hear the soft rumble. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” you admit. “Just got to bed.”

“Mm, sounds nice,” you hear him rummaging around. “El insisted on a bedtime story, and that I stay with her until she fell asleep.”

He inhales slowly, and you hear his heavy footsteps. “Haven’t got a shower yet.”

“Go and get one,” you encourage him sleepily.

He chuckles on the other end. “Are you falling asleep, sweetheart?”

“Your voice is nice,” you admit in a haze.

His laugh is brighter. “Good. I’m sorry I called, I— I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Bucky,” you blink in an attempt to keep awake.

“It’s been a long time since I met someone who seemed intent on my happiness,” he goes quiet for a moment. “My life is dedicated to Eileen, there is no room for myself.”

You shift to sit up.

“You deserve to be happy,” you say softly. “Eileen wants you to be happy too.”

“Mm,” he murmurs. “I’d like you to come with us.”

“Bucky?”

“Eileen and I were planning to go to a Science Museum in a few weeks,” he says. “I would like you to come with us.”

“I thought you didn’t want to confuse El?”

“Well,” he exhales. “Fuck it. She likes you. I like you. I want you there and I know El would too. It’ll be hard, and we may have to struggle. But, how I feel — it is worth it, you are worth it.”

You blink away at your tired eyes.

“Bucky, I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart,” his voice is smooth, like butter, soothing. “Just be there. That's all I ask.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll be there.”

It took three weeks before a date was set.

So here you stood, in the shadow of the museum, a large backpack on your back and eyes flickering across the car park.

You hear a screech of excitement before you feel something collide with your legs.

“You’re here!” You peek down and smile at the girl clinging to your legs

“Hey El,” you greet her, and attempt to crouch down. She backs off for a moment before seeing your open arms, and jumping into them, almost launching you backwards.

You hear a chuckle from above and you give her a squeeze. Your eyes flicker up to Bucky, his shadow casting over the pair of you, protecting you.

“Hey,” he says softly. He is wearing a plain shirt and jeans, a backpack over his shoulders.

Your eyes are unable to resist flickering over the broadness of his shoulders to the way the shirt clung to his arms, down to the veins along his forearms. Seeing him in person like this suddenly made all those video calls and texts worthwhile.

Eileen backs away, stepping back towards her father and giving you a grin.

Without even thought you straighten up, still overshadowed by the man slightly.

“Hey,” you greet him. “What’s with the bag?”

“It’s for a picnic,” he shrugs. “Didn’t want to pay for the cafe.”

You tilt your head and look at Eileen. She looked unfazed, as if it were normal.

“I made ham and cheese!” El declared proudly. “And boring salad for Daddy.”

Bucky visibly rolled his eyes. “It's chicken, and my salads are to die for.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is there enough to share?”

“I made two,” El bounced in excitement.

He pats her on the head gently.

“She insisted we make enough for you,” he shrugs casually. “El, hand please.”

The little girl reaches up automatically, taking his hand whilst Bucky holds out his metal hand to you.

“Shall we?” He suggests.

The inside of the museum is wide and open, a glass roof overhead of the central rocket filling the auditorium.

“Oooo,” El begins to rush forward, dragging her father with her. “A rocket!”

Bucky smirks in amusement at his daughter and gives you a wink.

“It’s a replica of the Rocket from Apollo 13,” Bucky keeps his eyes fixed forward.

Eileen bounds forward to the glass fence. “Three, two, one… Blast off!”

You smile and look over to Bucky who you also see smiling.

“She likes space?”

“I showed her the Artemis launch, and she’s been obsessed ever since,” he squeezes your hand. “She gets it from her father.”

“You like space?”

“Anything Physics,” he nods. “Engineering especially.”

“Nerd,” you tease him.

“Remind me what your job is again?” He sasses back, eyes returning to his daughter. You gently nudge him playfully with your arm, fingers still interlocked with his.

A slight tremor runs through him as he chuckles.

“You’re cute,” he keeps his eyes on Eileen, who is now standing entranced by a small screen showing the launch of a rocket. “People usually aren’t brave enough to tease me.”

“Because you are ex-Army, and built like a house?” You ask, your eyes remain on him, taking in how his hair was down — kept behind his ears.

“Mm,” he agrees. “I have what Sam calls a resting bitch face.”

You snicker, and feel Bucky’s eyes flicker to you.

“You aren’t denying it?”

“You do have this tendency to look a little…” you pause. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“No?” His lips twitch for a moment.

“No,” you repeat. “You’re gorgeous even with the resting bitch face.”

“Mm,” he lifts your joined hands, brushing his lips across your knuckles. “Thanks.”

The next few hours were filled with the excited squeals of Eileen at the different exhibits. Space suits, moon rocks, and a long documentary on the International Space Station. The three of you ended up in the large auditorium, sat on a bench with the picnic spread out in front of you.

Eileen sat talking animatedly about space, about all the planets she had looked up in books, what astronauts did in space and how much she wanted to see the stars.

Through it all Bucky never once interrupted her, to try to deter her from her dream. He nodded and spoke to her casually, almost like an adult.

“You okay there, honey?” Bucky’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“You’re such a good Dad,” you say without thinking about it.

He gives you a gentle smile, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You look over to Eileen who seems content eating her sandwich, whilst carefully colouring in a page she’d been given. Her eyebrows were scrunched together slightly, and the grip on her small pencil was tight.

“Is it like this all the time?” You wonder. “With you and Eileen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Peaceful, just out having fun,” you say.

“No, this is a treat,” he admits. “Normally we spend our weekends at home, we might go to the park or take a walk.”

“Just father-daughter time,”

“I guess,” he shrugs.

“Daddy colours with me,” Eileen interrupts, taking a sip of her juice. “In our NASA colouring book.”

You smirk and from the corner of your eye spot Bucky, placing his metal hand over his face.

“Daddy bakes with me. We made cookies!” She declares proudly.

Bucky chuckles, allowing hand to fall back to the table. “The icing was everywhere.”

“It was yummy!” She waves her arms in excitement. “Can you make cookies?”

You give her a gentle smile. “Yeah.”

Eileen gasps in excitement. “Come to my house! Let’s bake cookies.”

You laugh quietly.

“Maybe another time,” Bucky reaches over to calm her. “We have more of the museum to see.”

Another hour passed, walking through the long exhibit on the Solar System. The corridors were dark, covered with small lights to represent stars, every so often opening up into a room for each planet, projections of the planet flowing onto the walls, with paintings of the surface of the planet.

Upon reaching Saturn, you hear the sound of rocks for Saturn’s Rings.

“This is incredible,” you murmur.

Ahead, Eileen was bounding forward, keeping a close but far enough she could watch first.

“It is,” he agrees, squeezing your hand. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

“Would you like to visit an observatory?” He sounded nervous.

“With El?”

He shook his head. “She’d get bored of the talk. I— I have always wished to go.”

“Bucky,” you smile at him, flattered that he was willing to openly be himself with you. “Of course, I will.”

“You will?”

“Sure, sounds kind of romantic,” you shrug shyly. “Sat looking up at the stars.”

“Maybe,” he sounds unsure.

You squeeze his hand as you speak. “Bucky, you don’t need to give excuses. If you want to go to an observatory, we can go. All I want is to be with you.”

He stiffened a moment before keeping pace with you again, his eyes moving from your face to his daughter.

“You really want that?”

“Yeah,” your voice is quiet against the vast expanse of projected space. “I like spending time with you both.”

You feel a kiss against your hair. “Thank you.”

Your eyes flicker to glance at the lights crossing his features, then forward again. Your mind slowly began to list other date ideas, not just an observatory. Walks under the night sky, visits to climbing walls for El, maybe a motorcycle show or two.

A small smile remained on your face as you leaned into Bucky, feeling a sense of contentment amongst the stars.

One, two, three.

You count the knocks as you tap against the door.

Immediately you hear the sound of rushed footsteps, before the door flings open.

And there he is.

It takes a moment to process the sight in front of you. Bucky stood inside in a white tank top, with simple grey sweatpants and slips on his feet.

“Hey,” his voice is soft. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You feel heat creep up your cheeks, recalling the dazed rush you’d been in. Receiving his text asking you to come round, changing frantically from your loose shirt and leggings into a summer dress, checking yourself in the mirror, once, twice and then a third time before leaving.

“Did you need something?”

He gives you a simple nod and steps aside. “Come in.”

You step inside, taking care to remove your shoes as you hear the click of the door shutting.

“Here,” Bucky passes you, heading straight to the sofa.  You glance around the room, it isn’t as messy as you anticipated. There were no signs of El or her toys. Just a glass of water on the coffee table, and a beer bottle on the side table.

He slumps onto the leather, one arm up perched on the back as he nods down next to him.

You pursue your lips as you sit down, curious.

“Breathe,” his voice is soft. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

You take a shaky breath. “I thought you might’ve—“

You blink to try and hide the tears in your eyes. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

His lips parted for a moment before he allowed his head to fall back slightly, chuckling.

 “It’s not funny,” you protest weakly.

He stills a moment, tongue moving visibly inside his mouth, leaving you slightly entranced. The things he could do with that tongue…

“I’m sorry I worried you,” his tone was gentle, the fingers of his metal hand tracing your collarbone over your shirt. “Eileen is having a sleepover with a friend.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

He gave a soft smile as he nodded. “She’s been begging me for months. I thought it might be time.”

“And you invited me?” You twitch, beginning to understand.

“I’ve missed you,” he admits. “The phone calls don’t feel like enough.”

A surge of warmth filled your heart softly running through your veins.

“I missed you,” you reach over to lay your hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you.”

His fingers begin to play with the hair at the nape of your neck. “You’ve been busy, I understand.”

You lean into his hand, the cool metal cupping your cheek.

“So have you,” your voice cracks.

“Hm,” his face relaxes into its usual expression, slightly grumpy with the lines on his face plain. “Too busy.”

Almost of its own accord your hand most up, brushing against the cotton stretched across his chest before allowing the tops of your fingers to linger on the stubble on his jaw.

“I was going to cook you dinner,” he confesses. “Got too eager and invited you before I could decide what to cook.”

You begin to smile, thumb brushing his chin. “That’s okay, I’m just glad to be here.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You’ve dressed up, and I didn’t even cook you dinner.”

The leather of the sofa squeaked as you shuffled closer to him, legs brushing.

“We can order take out?” You suggest. “Order pizza, lounge around with bad TV on.”

He chuckled. “Now that is a good idea.”

He reached into his pocket for his phone, flicking his fingers across it.

The next few minutes were filled with the quiet chatter of debating which pizza to order. Unconsciously, you find yourself pulled closer to him, practically leaning on him as you look at the screen.

“Hm,” he grunted. “It’s going to be a while, sweetheart.”

You allow your head to fall into his shoulder, allowing your eyes to close. His metal arm tightens slightly around your waist.

“What a shame,” you murmur sarcastically.

“Did you have plans?” he teases back.

You tilt your head up as your eyes open. “I wasn’t sure how late you’d want me to stay.”

“Oh,” he breathed and shook his head. “Doll, I want you to stay all night.”

“All night?”

“You think I’d let my baby girl out of my sight for the night if I didn’t?” He points out.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “You wanted to—“

“I hoped,” his flesh hand was in your hair now, holding you in pace whilst his left kept you against him. “I can’t keep up this façade, pretending I don’t want more with you. Like you don’t brighten both our lives with your presence.”

“Bucky,” your breaths are shallow, fast, eyes fixed on his.

His face contorted, several emotions passing across his face whilst his eyes softened.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he pleads. “I couldn’t bear to go through it again.”

Your eyes water slightly, heart tightening in empathy. The past month he’d held back, only holding your hand, or pressing a kiss to your forehead. You’d feared the lack of intimacy indicated no interest, but now you knew otherwise.

He had avoided moving too fast out of fear of repeating the past.

“It’s not too fast,” you promise. “I did wonder why you held yourself back.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowns. “I— I didn’t want to lead you on. I like you, in fact, I adore you. You’ve worked past the steel I’ve forged around my heart to make your home there, and you’ll never leave.”

You swallow audibly.

“When I met you,” your voice is quiet. “All I wanted to do was try and put a smile on that face. You looked so shaken from El wandering off, and concerned about disturbing me. My heart went out to you. The more time we spent together, the more you showed me every facet of who you are. The more I found myself wanting to be around you. Ironically, you make me happy when all I wanted was to do that for you.”

“You make me happy,” he gives you a nod before licking his bottom lip. “Let me show you.”

His breath fans across your face, and you faintly smell beer on it. A slight movement and his lips are on yours, keeping you secure against him as you reciprocate feeling the softness of his lips but not pushing any further.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is thick as his forehead leans against yours.

“Have you been drinking?” You say quietly, your heart sinking at the thought of him being drunk.

“Oh,” he hand drops from your face, reaching behind him to pick something up and show you the brown bottle — mostly full. “I took a sip when I heard you knock, I needed some courage.”

You glance at the bottle, feeling your muscles loosen up and give a relieved laugh.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“Don’t apologise,” he shakes his head. “Want one?”

“No, thanks,” you reach up to allow your fingers to tangle in the hair, flowing from above his ear to the base of his neck.

“Fair enough,” he takes a long sip before placing it back on the side table behind him. You quietly laugh again. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” you grin. “Needing a beer like you’ve never spoken to a woman. It’s cute.”

“I don’t need a beer to speak to a woman,” he pretends to be offended. “I need a beer to speak with you.”

You snort. “Corny.”

Unable to hold the serious expression, he laughs lightly.

“I am,” he agrees, then leans forward to press a quick peck to your mouth.

“Hey!” You complain with a laugh of your own. “Bucky!”

His left arm tightens around your waist a moment, and he continues to tease you. “Sweetheart.”

“You’re so—” you wave your arm in mock frustration.

“Devastating handsome?” He winks.

Your voice gets caught in your throat, making a choking noise. His eyes widen slightly his horror, hand moving up to rub your back.

“You okay?” His tone dips in concern.

“You made me choke on my own spit!” You accuse him.

A relieved look passes his face.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, his hand still gently moving up and down your spine.

The sight of him suddenly felt too much. The fear in his eyes, the pink of his lips pressed together, the way his jawline twitched slightly as he strained.

“You are handsome,” you admit, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth.

“Yeah?” His lips twitch up slightly.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “And kind, and funny.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “And you’re the most generous woman I have ever met. Beautiful, gentle and caring. You ask nothing of me, you accept my poor excuses for not being with you—”

“Taking care of your daughter isn’t a poor excuse,” you interrupt.

“Let me finish,” he presses a finger to your lips. “You don’t mind Eileen being on our dates. You ask after her, treat her as your own.”

His blue eyes soften. “She loves you, you know?”

Your lip trembles slightly. “I love her.”

Bucky’s lips pull up into a proper smile, a rare sight. “As do I.”

The doorbell then rang.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Coming!”

In a flurry of shuffling and cursing, Bucky got off the sofa and headed to the door. The sight of such him stumble around, almost tripping brought a giggle to your lips.

You hear him grumble at you down the corridor before enthusiastically greeting the delivery driver, exchanging pleasantries before re-emerging into the room, carrying several boxes under his arm.

“You remain wordless, amused as he lays out the boxes onto the coffee table.

“Ah,” he slumps back next to you, remote in hand to turn on the TV. The chatter and music seemed faint compared to the sound of Bucky shifting to grab his beer again and reach for a slice with the other.

“Happy now?” You tease.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Been a long time since I had an evening like this.”

“Should I leave you alone with—?” You nod to the food.

“No,” he answers quickly, placing his beer down, then swapping the pizza from one hand to the other before holding out his free arm. “Get over here.”

You shuffle over, half your body covering his, as he finishes off his slice.

“Here,” his left arm holds you as his right reaches over for another slice. “Open.”

You blink a second before opening your mouth to allow him to feed you. You chew slowly, taking in his relaxed expression.

“This is nice,” you admit. “Domestic, comfortable. Like… home.”

He freezes for a moment. “Like home?”

You nod softly. “Better, because you’re here.”

“Yeah?” He asks rhetorically. “We could make this more permanent, honey.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could stay over,” he suggests. “Spend the weekends with El and me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to cause Eileen any confusion?” You say quietly. 

He snorts. “I’d cause her more by keeping you away.”

“And what if we sleep together?”

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it,” he snags another piece, taking a big bite to avoid speaking further.

“Bucky,” you voice is almost a whine. 

“Hush and eat your food,” his voice is gentle, no semblance of harshness in his tone.

“Yes sir,” you mutter, reaching over to join him in having pizza.

Slowly, as the take out boxes emptied, you ended up laid down, Bucky underneath, his back against the armrest, whilst your head was on his chest as your fingers brushed against his shirt.

Every so often, you’d move up and kiss him, softly. Taking your time to make the most of being alone with him. Then he’d occasionally move, tilting his head down to push his lips against the crown of your head, then tilting your head back to kiss you lazily, no force behind it, only a tempered heat that sparked the desire for more.

“Hey,” you hear him murmur. “You awake, sweetheart?”

“Barely,” your voice is a whisper, his body rumbles as he chuckles.

“Need me to carry you to bed?” His tone is teasing again.

“I— I don’t have any clothes,” you don’t move despite the comment.

“You can have some of mine,” he promises. “Come on, doll. Let’s get you in bed.”

As he moved, keeping you on his lap before turning and picking you up with surprising ease, it occurred to you that this is what he probably did with Eileen every night. Let her tire herself out before scooping her up and gently putting her under the covers.

It was a basic act of love. Something Bucky was used to, rather than the awkwardness of trying to force something on a date.

You barely notice where you are until he pops you onto what you assume is his bed. He goes to his drawers pulling out several pieces of clothing

“Here,” he gently tosses you a grey shirt. “I’m gonna change. Feel free to use the bathroom.”

He leaves through the open door, and you hear his footsteps as he heads down the corridor.

The room is dimly lit by the light filtering from the neighbouring bathroom, the bed sheets a simple navy blue, and upon the drawers were framed photos. Several were of Eileen, one was of Bucky, his arm around a man you didn’t recognise — Sam, you assumed. Then there was another, a new one, that you recognised. It was you, sat next to Bucky on the bench in the Space Museum. The photo was blurry, having been taken by Eileen herself, but even so you could see the happiness in Bucky’s eyes, the slight tilt in his lips.

You hadn’t realised you were standing until you reached to touch it, eyes watering slightly at his sentimentality.

“Hey,” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “You okay, doll?”

“You framed this?” Your voice is shaky.

“Of course,” he speaks casually. “It’s the only picture I have of you.”

“It’s only been two months,” you peek over at him from the corner of your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” you feel him step behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. “Whether you know it or not, you’ve brightened my life. You’re important to me.”

“Bucky,” tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m not worth your tears, baby.”

“Yes, you are,” you sniffle, placing your hands on his. “You’re worth it all.”

You feel his breath against your ear, lips brushing faintly against your hairline.

“Still sleepy?” He asks.

Your head twists to look behind you then up at him. “A little, but I want you more.”

His eyes widen slightly at your words. “You’re sure?”

You nod, turning in his arms, and wrap your own arms around his neck.

“Yes,” you agree. “Nice and slow. Like you said.”

“I can do that,” he pulls you forward, stepping back until he falls back onto the bed, bringing you with him.

“Buck!” You laugh as you land on his chest, the thin cotton of his pyjamas gave little protection when your hands brushed his hardness of his chest.

He chuckles. “Buck, eh?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks. “It kind of slipped out.”

“It’s okay,” he pulls you up carefully until you are face to face. “It’s more than okay.”

“You don’t mind?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile. “I only allow those closest to me to call me Buck.”

“Yeah?”

The smile turns into a smirk as he hums in approval, leaning up to kiss you.

The kiss is different again, slow like before but with clear intent. A hand reaches to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. His lips move with precision, taking care not to push too far.

“Slow,” he murmurs against your lips as if reminding himself. You lean down this time, pressing gentle kisses across his face, working down to his neck before giving it a nip with your teeth.

“Easy,” his fingers brush through your hair. “Gonna get me off before our clothes are off.”

You giggle quietly. “Sorry.”

“No apologies,” his hand moves from your head to tilt your chin up. “Don’t be sorry for any of this. This is perfect.”

You pull back, and catch the hurt in his eyes. Your chest tightens with guilt, and you manage a deep breath before reaching under your skirt — pulling the dress off in a single movement.

“Oh,” his hands fall to your hips, eyes locked on your bare chest only covered by a simple bra. “That’s not slow, sweetheart.”

“I want to feel you,” you admit as you reach down, hands roaming up his arms as you lower yourself back down onto him.

He doesn’t say a word, instead his right hand moves up your skin, leaving a soft tingle in its wake, before stopping just at the hem of your bra.

“May I?” His voice is low with desire, eyes on your chest.

You nod, feeling enraptured by the sensation of his hands on you. His hand slid under your bra cupping your breast, then brushing his thumb over your skin.

“They’re real soft,” he murmurs, concentrating on how his fingers seemed to disappear into them.

“Been a while?” You guess.

His eyes flicker to yours. “I never got to experience this — to just touch. To get to know someone so intimately.”

“Here,” you reach up and pull down the straps on your bra, then unhook from behind you and throw it on the floor. “I trust you.”

He pulls himself further up, keeping you seated on his lap whilst his hands hovered over you.

“Still okay?” He asks, and you nod.

The sensation of one hand cold and the other warm, sent your mind into overdrive with sensation. Your nipples perking up slightly in interest as his fingers squeezed.

You reach forward, humming quietly at the feel of him on you, and reach for the bottom of his top.

“May I?” You whisper.

“Please,” he removes his hands and allows you to pull it over his head. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment at the sight of him.

You had known he was well built, and big, but seeing him without a shirt felt altogether different. Large shoulders framing his chest. Curiosity breaks through, your hands drift onto his chest, brushing softly against his chest, downwards as you notice there is no six pack, only the feel of muscle with a healthy layer of fat. It felt soft, like somewhere you wished to lay your head on every night.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” He asks, eyes fixed on your every expression.

“It feels nice,” you admit.

“Don’t exactly look like I’d fit the cover on Men’s Health, do I?” His tone is joking, but you scowl at him regardless.

“Yet you probably could lift a small car with those muscles,” you say, fingers now pressing into the muscles of his arm, one hand exploring soft muscle the other tracing the plates of his arm.

“That’s what the metal arm is for,” he jokes and leans forward to press a kiss to your mouth again.

You laugh as you pull away from the peck. “Could you lift me?”

“Easily,” he admits casually.

“Very humble,” you tease him, as his fingers begin to trace your sides.

“You asked,” he smirks.

“I did,” you agree, brushing your nose against his. “I’m curious what else,” your hand roams over his metal arm. “This arm can do.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Dirty.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. He laughs then, all tension removed from the moment. 

”Bucky,” your voice is almost a whine.

“Breathe,” his voice turns soft. “It’s just us. You don’t have to hide anything.”

You give him a playful scowl, then shake your head.

“Are you asking me to talk dirty?” Your voice is slightly hesitant.

”Only if you want to,” his fingers made patterns on your bare sides. “Or I can…”

You feel his lips brush your cheek before speaking low in your ear. “You have no idea how hard it has been to keep our dates safe for El’s eyes. Trying to keep my eyes off you. When we first met—”

He pauses, shifting back to stare at you, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry about that. I checked you out and spoke without thinking. I was as embarrassed as you were, it’s why I wished to escape, and why it took me so long to text you.”

Your arms tighten around his neck. “You’re only human.”

He lets out an awkward chuckle, licking his bottom lip anxiously. “Thanks”

You lean forward to press a kiss to his mouth, moving slowly as you press yourself against him. One hand presses against the small of your back as the other slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

You gasp as he turns, causing you to land on your back head against the pillows looking up at him.

“Had enough talking?” His voice breaks slightly.

You nod, still slightly wide eyed.

“Good,” he buries his head into your neck, inhaling through his nose as his hands moved down to your underwear.

Your own hands mirrored his, reaching to pull him free. The moment dragged, suddenly the urgency of made it feel like no matter how hard either of you tried the clothes were just not coming off.

“That was more difficult than when it was my first fucking time,” he grumbles, kicking his leg to ensure he was completely bare.

You laugh quietly and shake your head. “Come here.”

He leans down again to kiss you. Even as your lips moved with his your could feel him against you, the warmth of his skin against your chest, your hands feeling the muscles of his back.

With a groan, his hips roll over yours to allow you to feel how hard he was. Your legs lift instinctively to allow him easier access.

There were no words passed between you. Bucky only lifted himself slightly to look into your eyes as you give a tiny nod to confirm you were consenting to all of it.

A hand abruptly landed on your thigh, curling inwards before moving between your bodies reaching to grasp himself and line himself up.

“It’s been a while,” he admits. “If I do anything it hurts, or anything you don’t like. Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” your voice is breathy, almost silent from the tension of the moment.

His blue eyes stay fixed on you, reading your expression before you feel the tip of him press against you.

He moved slowly, as if he feared that moving too fast would break you in half. Yet somehow it made everything better. You gasped as you stretched around him, friction building despite your arousal and the an ache that had previously gone unnoticed seemed to soothe as he bottomed out.

You exhale slowly as he pressed his forehead against yours, the room silent other than the sound of heavy breathing.

“You okay?” His voice broke slightly at the intensity.

“Yeah,” you respond, reaching so your arms wrap around him, hands grasping his shoulders. From the corner of your eyes you see the showdown of his own arms bracing himself above you.

Bucky keeps his eyes on yours. “Keep yours eyes on me, please.”

His hips move and withdraw slightly before pushing forward gently. A moan gets caught in your throat as you feel the stretch again.

The look in his eyes is intense, focused and his jaw ticks slightly as he concentrates.

“You’re making it real hard to hold it together honey,” he voice come from between clenched teeth.

“Slower?” You suggest and he shakes his head sharply.

“That’ll kill me,” his lips twitch in amusement at the thought. “I need to move.”

You brace your feet against the softness of the bedsheet, allowing your thighs to wrap around his hips lightly.

“Then move, Bucky,” you whisper your encouragement. “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He remains still, his eyes still focusing on you.

“Trust me?”

The words seem to stir something in him, his face softens, jaw loosening and he lets out a sharp exhale as though he had been holding his breath.

In a single movement he pulls out, then in an instant he pushes back in, watching as you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His body begins to move in rhythm, faster than the first few thrusts but enough you find yourself keeping up, attempting to sync up with him.

The room felt oddly quiet only than the soft slapping of skin and your breathy sighs of pleasure.

“Feels good,” he murmurs, and leans down brush his nose against yours. He begins to move faster, just enough that you see him groan, his mouth passing yours a moment before leaving a trail of saliva from the edge of your lips to jawline.

“Bucky,” you moan as you feel him give a hard thrust and hold it there.

“More?” He suggests, his lips at your ear.

“Please,” your eyes sting slightly as your chest tightens slightly, desperate.

He pulls himself up to hover over you. One hand grasping your thigh, pulling it up, swinging your calf over his shoulder and pressing down.

“Oh f—” you cry out as you feel him push deeper, brushing against a spot that sends a flood of warmth through you.

“There,” he inhales, taking a moment whilst his left hand brushed your side, the cool of the metal leaving tingles in its wake before slipping down between your legs. “I’ve got you.”

The headboard banged against the wall with his next thrust, your voice gets caught in your throat, lips still parted as he hits with such precision you begin to fear being overheard at the noises you suppress.

“Let it out,” he commands, tone gentle. “I wanna hear it.”

Your voice cracks slightly as a long moan escapes you. “Bucky, please—”

“Close?” He asks and you nod frantically.

It was then he leaned down to kiss you, your bodies still rocking in an attempt to sync up, your legs begin to tremble around him. The metal of his fingers brushed the swollen nub between you, forcing your apart just a moment as your back arches into him with a soft cry, before he presses himself down on you. His weight holding you in place, mouth suppressing your sounds. His fingers continue, rubbing hard against you as he snaps forward hard.

Your body clamps around him, your cries muffled by his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, as you feel him continue, the friction against your walls making your eyes roll.

Bucky kisses your deeper then, almost as through to push you further into the mattress as he presses hard against your walls before his large frame shudders, and you feel a rush of liquid alongside your own.

His forehead lays softly on top of yours, and you watch his entire face soften. His eyes are shut, lips slightly parted as he breathes deeply before letting out a quiet laugh.

“Bucky?” You whisper, his eyes flicker open. The blue piercing through you.

“That was reckless,” he chuckles, shifting his weight to prop himself on both arms. “No condom.”

“Oh,” heat rushes to your cheeks as you realise the slight faux pas. You lips part to apologise.

“Don’t apologise,” he cuts you off. “I haven’t felt like this in nearly a decade. Just doing something because it’s fun, consequences be damned.”

You swallow, fingers reaching up to brush against his cheek. “I like that.”

“Yeah, enough to do it again?” His voice is quiet, nervous.

“Now?” You suppress a smile.

“Maybe in an hour,” he shrugs. “Was thinking of a bath? Then we can sleep, get El and maybe brunch?”

“That sounds…” your eyes gaze over for a moment, consumed by domestic thoughts. Sitting in the living room, colouring with Eileen. Having Bucky laid on your lap, running your fingers through his hair. Maybe a day would pass when you’d surprise Eileen with a sibling.

“Sounds nice,” you agree.

His shifts instantly, scooping you into his arms to carry you into the bathroom. His arms tighten around you instinctively and you hear him murmur above you.

“As long you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

The lake house looked like it had always looked—warm… and sticky vibes. The hot air from spring got you grumpy, and the fact that Natasha had spent all the trip talking about Sam and how great they were going to do there made you only feel pathetic. Bucky would probably bring someone new or someone for the week, and you would spend your days with Wanda and Steve.

The wooden lake house was Steve’s parents’, and basically, the friends group had taken advantage of it since you all got your driving license and were able to drive on your own—and more importantly—without parental supervision. But it was always the same since Sam and Nat got together; now the weeks there were more like a couple thing for them, and the rest of you were awkwardly around them.

Then, Bucky and Steve started bringing casual flings, and Wanda and you spent a girl’s weekend basically watching amateur porn being made in front of your eyes.

Natasha was finishing unloading the backseat of the truck while you were starting to unload the trunk when you felt his hand on your shoulder.

“What are you doing, worrying those pretty hands?” Bucky spoke behind you as he took your duffel bag from your hands. “Go inside; I’ll take care of this.”

He kissed your cheek and made you and Natasha walk into the house.

“So… this is finally the weekend?” Natasha hugged you by the shoulder.

“Yes, of course. I’ll tell him after the first quickie with whoever he brought, and he hasn’t promised anything weird to her.” You rolled your eyes.

Natasha scoffed a laugh. “He didn’t bring anyone this time.”

“Of course he didn’t bring anyone, Nat.”

Steve was stocking the fridge with alcohol, with Sam and Wanda helping around—but then, you didn’t see anyone strange around. Not a blonde girl giggling in the kitchen bar, not a redhead wandering around to see the house, not a brunnette sitting on the couch as if she were too superior to do any help.

“No special guests today?” Natasha asked, peeping at you.

“I wanted a free romantic tension weekend for me.” Bucky chimed in with all your bags on his arms.

“What a surprise.”

“But there’s a special guest today…” Pietro, Wanda’s twin, walked from the hallway that led to the rooms.

He had been abroad for years and barely visited the country since his school exchange program had taken all of him. You and Natasha screamed and ran to hug him. You two were just rambling over the other as Pietro hugged you by your waist.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” You looked at Wanda.

“Kind of a surprise?”

You were still giggling on Pietro’s arms when Bucky nudged you on his way to the rooms—you shrugged it off as accidental. Steve followed him with the rest of your things and sat in the room you had always shared with Wanda, but Bucky noticed Wanda’s stuff wasn’t in the room.

“Where’s Wanda?”

“Oh… She’s staying with me… Pietro asked if he could stay with her for the night…” Steve scratched the back of his neck. He knew Bucky was going to get pissed.

“And couldn’t you tell him to fuck off? This is your fuckin’ house…”

“What was I supposed to say? Sorry, you can’t stay with her because Bucky will rip your balls off?”

“Basically…”

“Bucky… she had seen you for years to parade girls all over this same house; she had probably heard multiple girls moaning your name over here… and you are mad because one time a guy is asking to sleep next to her?”

“He hasn’t even been here for years!”

“Exactly, and they were close… even closer than you two… before he left. He was obviously going to ask to sleep next to her. This is not even something sexual…and even if it was… there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed.

“Well, you’ve got one thing to do if you wanna keep him away.” Bucky looked up at Steve, “Fuckin’ confess.”

Later that night, you were sitting next to Pietro. You had missed him like crazy—he left just after you had realized your feelings towards Bucky, and even in the distance he kept trying to make you tell him how you felt. His hand caressed your back while you had your legs over his lap, and your head resting on your knees.

“So, nothing yet?” He asked, rubbing your back. You shook your head.

“He’s been all over the place with every girl he finds—I’m not gonna come straight up when a girl is still latched to his neck…”

“You know he was super mad earlier, right? He had been giving me the cold shoulder since he learned we’re sharing a room.”

You chuckled. “What if I do it and it turns out that I have read this whole thing completely wrong?”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “Look. Do I like him for you? No. Not at all. I can’t believe after all these years you’re still into him, but I know when he likes someone… and he really likes you; he’s just an idiot who hasn’t realized it, yet.”

“Or hasn’t accepted,” Natasha added, sitting in front of you.

“You too?” You tilted your head.

“The only two people who haven’t accepted that you two are in love are… you two…”

You looked over your shoulder just to notice Steve and Bucky bringing some coolers. The show was about to start, and it was the first time you could even wrap your mind around the idea of drinking.

You knew well if this ended badly, the whole group would collapse. It was enough having Steve and Natasha dating to add more to the equation.

You really tried to enjoy yourself, to make yourself treat him as you always did, but every time his hands grazed your skin, it made you feel somehow weaker. Every time he brought you that specific drink you had mentioned weeks earlier, and he remembered you loved, every small detail made you think this could go some way if you were more like the girls he had been screwing the last years.

The night ended with most of your friends passed out drunk as you just sat at the edge of the dock looking at the moon reflecting in the lake. Your head rested on your knees; the air cold from the forest made you squirm from time to time, and you had refused to go inside and put on a sweater after you heard Bucky talking on the phone with someone.

You were about to surrender and just go inside when you saw him walking outside. He was just hanging up the call when he saw you. You heard his footsteps getting closer in the mud and then his pace on the wooden floor; you only hugged your legs a little bit tighter.

“What’ya doing?” He stood next to you.

“Just contemplating the moon. It’s been a minute since we were here, and I realized I missed the sight,” you didn’t look at him.

“Do you remember the first times we came here?” He knelt and took one rock and threw it at the lake.

“We were like fifteen? Joseph and Sarah had to deal hard with all of us wanting to be all over the place.”

He chuckled. Steve’s parents had always been supportive of the friends group and had done more than any other parent to make you all close.

“I remember Joseph rushing from the house through here to save Pietro from drowning.”

Trying not to make a lot of noise, you snorted a laugh. “It was before he started to grow like a weed.”

“You seemed happy earlier to see him.” A hint of jealousy could be heard in his words.

“Of course I was… I missed him so much. He was my best friend even before I met the rest of the group.”

He hummed in response, and you really wanted to take one of the rocks and throw it at his head. How was it possible that he could sense all that but could not notice how much you liked him? He looked at you again, the way you hugged your arms as you tried to bring some warmth to your body.

“Hey,” he tried to bring your attention to him, “What about one midnight swim?”

“Bucky, we’re gonna freeze the fuck out of our bodies.”

“Yeah… That’s kinda the point.” He took off his jersey and, without thinking it through, dove. As soon as he came out of the water, you saw his damp hair falling over his forehead.

This had always been your favorite moment. When he called for a midnight swim with the group and everyone followed him, you used to love seeing him try to swim as he fought not to die from the cold water.

Without thinking about it much, you just dived in too. He caught you in the water and hugged you to his body. Your teeth were clicking from the cold, and his naked chest was paradise, grazing through the thin blouse you were wearing.

“It’s freezing, you’re freezing.” He mumbled in your ear, “We shouldn’t be here.”

“You jumped in first.” You looked up at him.

“Well, you didn’t have to follow me.” He scoffed, and between the cold water making you not think straight and the way he looked at you—something finally snapped.

You pulled him closer by the neck and kissed him slowly, closing your eyes—letting him decide what the next step he was going to take.

And, much to your surprise. He kissed you back.

His lips desperately devouring yours, his hands gripping your waist, roaming through your thighs to make you straddle him as he let the heat of the moment engulf him. Your hands stroked his hair while you tried to make the kiss last longer. And when he finally pulled away just to look at you, the only thing he could notice was the way the moonlight covered your face fully. Making you look like the most beautiful masterpiece he had ever seen.

“If I say something stupid, blame the cold water…” He mumbled before kissing you again.

“We can blame the cold water for everything.” You said between kisses, and he nodded eagerly.

In a matter of seconds, you both were already running carefully, wetting the floor of the house, to reach his bedroom. As soon as you reached his bedroom, he closed the door and held you against the door to start kissing you again.

“Bucky… We shouldn’t… We really shouldn’t be doing this…” Your breath came erratically; a soft moan left your lips between every word.

“We’re not doing anything wrong…” He said, before starting to kiss your neck, his lips finding the most sensitive spot your neck could have. Your head tilted back.

“Then why does it feel like we are?” You keened.

“‘Cause you keep letting your most rational side decide what’s correct and what’s not…”

He started to kiss down while he knelt in front of you. He looked up, and for the first time, all those embarrassingly wet dreams you had had through the years were coming to reality. Carefully, he pulled down your shorts and started to kiss your inner thighs. And, at that point, you weren’t even questioning what was going on. You just knew you loved the way he was taking his sweet time kissing every inch of skin he could reach.

Your mind was racing through all his touching, not completely focused on anything—this until his wet and warm tongue found your slit; he was lifting your leg to rest it on his shoulder while he dived on your core. His hands gripped your waist as you pulled him closer by the hair.

Before you could come to your senses, you were already pinned down on his mattress while he circled your clit and lined to your core.

“Are you sure you want it, sweetheart?” You weren’t thinking straight. You could only nod and pull him with your legs.

He finally bucked his hips and slammed his cock inside you, splitting you open. He noticed you were about to moan and placed his hand in your mouth, “We need to be quiet, baby… We don’t need them to know what we’re doing…”

You cried out in his palm and nodded.

“Fuck… you feel so tight… When was the last time…?” Your eyes widened, and he chuckled. “Too private? C’mon... I’m balls deep in you, and you can’t tell me that?”

“You’re enjoying yourself too much…” You were able to speak when he moved his hand from your mouth.

“Just enjoying what I got in front of me…”

He leaned over you, both his arms on your sides, still rolling his hips to get you to your highest; you were sure you had never felt like this before, and you were sure he knew that.

Clenching around his cock, you finally came, an aching feeling pooling on your lower stomach, fingers digging on his side, and then he pulled out, and warm ropes fell in your pelvis. His cock was still throbbing while he pumped himself to let all out.

When he finally fell over you, both of you started cracking a laugh.

“What did we just do?” You looked at him.

“I think… we just fucked…”

“No shit, Sherlock…” You said, cynically. “Blowing off some steam?”

You didn’t notice, but a hint of disappointment appeared in his eyes.

“Yeah… Blew some steam…”

He knew he should have said something, but then he couldn’t really understand what had just happened—and how he could call it.

You took a quick shower and went back to your room—there, Pietro faked to be asleep, but he noticed you had just arrived and all your clothes were damp… He was then curious to know if tomorrow Bucky would have some clothes drying on the porch rail.

And, unsurprisingly. There it was. Some of Bucky’s clothes drying and a clear… very clear hickey on your neck that you had done everything you could to hide with some makeup.

You tried to avoid Bucky—even when he was trying his best to catch your attention. And he had just been able to do it when everyone was already asleep—you were sitting on a rocking chair on the porch, a beer in your hands and a cigarette in the other.

“You look different out here…” He mumbled from the threshold of the house.

“Huh?”

“You look different… or at least for me…”

“Shut up, Bucky…”

“Shut me up…” He teased, and your cheeks heated.

By the third night out of five, Pietro had kept his mouth shut, even when he noticed you only arrived before dawn and slept there enough that anyone would notice you were sneaking out from Bucky’s bedroom.

This night was no different. You were already riding him as if your life depended on it.

“Fuck… Fuck… Bucky… We shouldn’t…” You moaned.

Your knees side by side, your hands steadying you on his chest—his arms were behind his head, as he looked at you bouncing on him with all the eagerness you have been holding for years.

“You look so good like this.” He husked, and you bit your lip.

You had heard him so many times talking like this to so many girls that listening to it for the first time directed to you felt like a teenage dream—you felt pathetic for the first time.

“Fuck… You have no idea how much I have waited for this…” He muffled a moan and leaned to pull you down into his chest, now pounding from below.

“What?” You tried to speak, but it came more like a cry out.

“You have no idea how much I love you…” He groaned on your ear. “I’ve been wanting this for so long…”

“But… we’re friends…” You mumbled, and he husked a laugh. “Why are you laughing?”

You felt his pace growing faster, your hands now hooked on his neck to help you stay put.

“Say it—” You furrowed, “Say we’re just friends after this...”

“Bucky…” You mewled, and he kissed your temple. “I can still taste your precious juices, and you keep calling us friends… I’ve been fucking you three nights in a row… I just told you I love you… and you keep calling us friends…”

“But what if they know?” You made him stop.

“Huh? Who? Them? Or Pietro?” He teased.

“Stop it with that… He’s nothing more than a friend for me…”

“Well, I’m supposed to be a friend too, Aren’t I?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I mean everyone… Aren’t we going to ruin the group if something happens?”

“Then let’s do it great…” He murmured in your ear and pulled out, making you whine. “I’m being serious…”

He leaned and made you sit on his lap.

“I really wanna do this… And I hate that I’m confessing now… Naked… after three nights of whatever that was… But I’ve been dying to tell you that I love you…” Bucky was stroking your hair while he spoke.

“I love you too, Bucky…”

“Then why is Pietro sleeping with you?”

You snorted a laugh… Because he wanted you to snap… and look… he hasn’t lost his touch…”

“He wanted what…?” He tilted his head.

“He was sure you loved me and wanted to prove a point.”

“Asshole…”

“But it worked…”

It was becoming a problem.

He noticed the way you tied your hair up when the heat got unbearable, twisting it off your neck with one hand while holding your drink in the other. He noticed how you always hummed along to songs before you remembered the lyrics. He noticed that when you laughed too hard, you leaned forward like your joy was too big to keep upright.

Worst of all, he noticed that you looked for him.

In crowded rooms. Across Sam’s backyard. Through the steam rising off the grill and the buzz of cicadas in the trees. Your eyes would find his, quick and bright, then flick away like you had not meant to get caught.

But Bucky always caught it because he had been looking too.

Tonight was no different.

The summer air hung warm and honey-thick around Sam’s place, the kind of heat that made everyone lazy and loud. Someone had dragged a speaker out onto the porch. Music spilled into the yard, all electric longing and restless devotion, a song made for open windows and reckless hearts.

You were barefoot in the grass.

That was the first thing Bucky noticed.

Not the fireflies blinking near the fence. Not Sam arguing with Sarah over whether he had burned the burgers. Not Joaquin trying to balance three paper plates on one arm.

You.

Barefoot. Laughing. Holding a melting popsicle between your fingers, your lips stained cherry red.

Bucky forgot how to breathe for half a second. Which was stupid. He had seen worse things than a pretty mouth in July.

Still.

His brain went quiet in a way it rarely did, all the static softening into one clear thought.

There you are.

You looked up then, as if you had heard him.

Across the yard, your smile changed.

It was small at first. Just the corner of your mouth lifting. Then it grew warmer, private in a way that made Bucky’s chest feel too tight beneath his shirt.

He looked away.

Coward.

“Man,” Sam said beside him, flipping a spatula in his hand. “You are pathetic.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m standing here.”

“Exactly. Standing. Brooding. Making tragic little eyes across my yard.”

“I don’t make tragic little eyes.”

Sam snorted. “You make museum-quality tragic little eyes.”

Bucky took the beer from Sam’s hand and drank from it out of spite.

Sam didn’t even blink. “That was mine.”

“Was.”

Across the yard, you laughed at something Joaquin said, but your gaze slipped back to Bucky again. This time, you didn’t look away as quickly.

Neither did he.

The whole yard seemed to blur at the edges.

You lifted the popsicle in a tiny salute.

Bucky’s mouth twitched before he could stop it.

Sam groaned. “Go talk to her before the grass catches fire from all this unresolved tension.”

Bucky handed the beer back. “You always this dramatic?”

“Only when two emotionally constipated people are ruining my barbecue.”

Bucky ignored him or tried to. But his feet were already moving.

Each step across the yard felt ridiculous. He had crossed battlefields with steadier nerves. He had walked into gunfire. He had faced monsters and gods and men who thought themselves both.

And somehow, walking toward you with the sun setting behind your shoulders made his pulse kick like a drum.

You watched him come closer.

That was the thing that ruined him. You didn’t glance around. Didn’t pretend you hadn't been waiting. You just stood there in the grass, cherry red smile softening into something sweeter, something almost shy.

“Hi, Barnes,” you said.

“Hi.”

Terrible start.

One word. He had eighty years of languages, mission reports, coded phrases, and poetry somewhere in his head, and all he managed was hi.

Your smile widened like you knew exactly what he was thinking. “You having fun?”

He looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was very obviously watching while pretending to inspect burger buns.

“Fun might be generous.”

“You smiled at least twice.”

“Maybe it was heatstroke.”

You laughed, and there it was again. That feeling. A door opening somewhere in him that he had sworn was sealed shut.

You held out the popsicle. “Want some?”

Bucky stared at it, then at you.

Your fingers were sticky. The thing was melting down your wrist. A drop of red sugar slid toward your palm, and Bucky’s mind, traitorous and unhelpful, noticed the movement with far too much attention.

“No,” he said quickly.

Your eyebrows lifted. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Scared of germs, Sergeant?”

“Scared of you.”

That slipped out before he could stop it.

The air changed.

Your teasing expression softened, the laughter fading from your eyes but not the warmth. You lowered the popsicle, suddenly still.

Bucky wished he could take it back... no, he didn’t.

That was the problem. He didn’t want to take any of it back. Not the looking. Not the wanting. Not the quiet ache that had been building in him for weeks every time you said his name like it belonged in your mouth.

You glanced down, lashes hiding your eyes. “You shouldn’t be.”

Bucky’s voice came out low. “I know.”

“Do you?”

He swallowed.

The music shifted behind you, the song swelling into something bright and desperate. Summer folded itself around the two of you, warm wind moving through the trees, cicadas buzzing like tiny live wires, fireflies sparking gold in the grass.

Bucky stepped closer.

Not much. Just enough that he could smell sunscreen on your skin, sugar on your fingers, the faint clean scent of your shampoo underneath the smoke from the grill.

Your breath caught.

He noticed that too.

“Doll,” he said quietly.

Your eyes lifted to his.

The nickname landed differently this time. Not casual. Not easy. It hung between you, soft and trembling, waiting to see if either of you would be brave enough to touch it.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

His name in your voice nearly undid him.

He had heard his name shouted. Ordered. Begged. Cursed. He had heard it through radios and nightmares and hospital rooms. But this was different.

This was summer-warm. This was wanting. This was you.

Bucky’s hand flexed at his side. “Tell me to stop looking at you like that.”

You did not blink. “I don’t want you to stop.”

The words hit him clean through the ribs.

Behind him, someone laughed too loudly. A plate clattered. Sam yelled something about burger integrity. The world continued, careless and alive.

But Bucky could not hear much past the blood rushing in his ears.

“You sure?” he asked.

Your smile trembled at the edge, nervous and hopeful all at once. “I’ve been sure for a while.”

Bucky let out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in him for years.

He raised his hand slowly. You leaned into the space between you, your eyes fluttering when his knuckles brushed your cheek.

Soft.

You were so soft.

It terrified him. It made him want to be soft too.

His thumb swept lightly beneath your cheekbone. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

A helpless laugh escaped him, quiet and disbelieving.

Your smile turned radiant.

There, that was the moment.

Not the kiss. Not yet.

The moment before.

The breath before the match struck. Your face tipped up toward his. His hand at your cheek. The music spilling into the pink-orange dusk. The summer heat pressing close, turning the air molten.

Bucky leaned in slowly. So slowly he felt every inch of it.

Your eyes closed first.

That nearly killed him.

Then his mouth touched yours.

The kiss was gentle at first, almost a question. Your lips were warm, tasting faintly of cherry sugar, and Bucky felt the shock of it all the way down to his bones. Not sharp. Not violent. Just bright.

A sparkler in his chest.

Then you sighed against him. That tiny sound broke something loose.

Bucky stepped closer, his other hand finding your waist with careful reverence. You leaned into him, fingers curling in the front of his shirt, and the kiss deepened just enough to become an answer.

Yes.

Yes, this.

Yes, you.

The yard disappeared. The years disappeared. For one impossible second, there was no past waiting behind his eyes. No cold. No ghosts. No weight dragging at his name.

There was only your hand over his heart. Only the warm press of your mouth.

Only the dizzy, golden thought that maybe he had not been made solely to survive. Maybe he had been made for this too. For a summer evening. For a kiss that tasted like sugar and courage. For wanting someone and being wanted back without either of you having to run from it.

When you pulled away, it was barely far enough to breathe. Your forehead rested against his. Your fingers were still twisted in his shirt.

Bucky opened his eyes and found you already looking at him.

You looked stunned.

He probably did too.

“Hi,” you whispered again, breathless.

This time, Bucky smiled. A real one.

“Hi, doll.”

Your laugh came out soft and shaky, and Bucky wanted to kiss that too.

So he did.

Just once. Quick and sweet. Enough to make you smile against his mouth.

From across the yard, Sam shouted, “Finally!”

The entire barbecue erupted into noise.

You buried your face against Bucky’s chest with a groan. “I’m moving. I have to leave the country now.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around you, smiling into your hair. “I know a guy.”

You laughed, muffled against him. “You’re supposed to say no.”

“I’m considering my options.”

You tilted your head back, eyes bright with embarrassment and happiness and something so tender it made his throat ache. “Was that okay?”

Bucky stared at you.

The sun had nearly vanished, leaving gold caught in your lashes. The music was still playing. Sam was still yelling. The popsicle had melted completely, forgotten in the grass.

Bucky brushed his thumb over your cheek again.

“Best part of my summer,” he said.

Your smile went soft.

And Bucky Barnes, who had spent so much of his life bracing for winter, stood barefoot in the warm grass with you in his arms and let himself believe, just for tonight, that some things were allowed to last.

Sambucky. Wanda/Vision. T'Challa and Shuri feelings. Shuri and Peter Parker becoming friends, the Guardians being the Guardians--what more do i have to say about that.

Warnings: Angst, Time Travel, Slow burn, fluff, crack, eventual minor character death (it's later but im not gonna pretend it won't happen cause it's Vormir. we all know what happens at Vormir)

Chapter One - what losing looks like Chapter Two - The closest shot we got at reversing this Chapter Three - Nothing we can do Chapter Four - Hypothetically Chapter Five - Guinea Pig (Coming Soon...) Chapter Six - [unnamed] Deffo more chapters to come. these are just the named ones

It is criminally early. The sky is still dark outside but you have to get to work. If it were up to you, you’d want nothing more than to snuggle back into Sam’s side and spend the rest of your day on the couch with cuddles and snacks.

Reluctantly, you slip out of his embrace but a warm hand curls around you wrist, coaxing you back. You roll on your side and rest on your elbow.

“Where are you going?” Sam mumbles, voice raspy, eyes half closed

“Go back to sleep, Sam,” you say, smoothing your hand over his cheek. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Fuck work,” Sam mutters. “Five more minutes.”

He curls his arm around you and you gladly snuggle into his side. Sam brushes his lips against your forehead, before pulling you closer. You’re enveloped by his warmth and the comforting scents you’ve come to associate with him. Pine, lemon, and some distinct musk you can only describe as Sam. You let his steady breaths lull back into sleep.

You are drifting along the edges of a good dream when your second alarm buzzes. Groaning, you twist, fumbling under your pillow for phone. You manage to find it and snooze it.

“Don’t go,” Sam rumbles, his arm tightening around you.

“I really have to get out of bed now or I’ll miss my train,” you say settling back into his embrace.

“I’ll fly you there,” he says in a petulantly sleepy tone.

“That’s very sweet, baby,” you smile, nuzzling into his neck, pressing light kisses trailing up to his jaw. “But you need to rest.”

“I just need you,” Sam tucks a crooked finger under your chin and tips you up to face him.

Kisses pass between you with practiced ease, uncaring of the sour tang of morning breath. You cradle the back of his neck, fingers brushing over his prickly fade as you shuffle closer to him. Your lips meld together in a sweet addictive concoction. Sam drinks from your lips like it is a rare delicacy. His satisfactory hum reverberates down your spine, drawing a soft sigh from you. Sam sweeps his hand over your ribs, your waist and finally resting on your hips.

Sam’s growing grip on your hips brings you back to the world. It is so easy to get lost in him, even in the simplest of affections. He holds you flush against his chest like a coveted treasure as he comes to nibble on your lower lip, tongue swiping over it. You could spend the rest of your life like this.

The snooze alarm buzzes and Sam groans.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you murmur between kisses. “You sleep in till noon, and I’ll duck out during lunch.

“Fine,” Sam relents pulling you in for one last one to tide him over. “If you aren’t back by one, I’m picking up from work myself.”

Steve has to bite back a snicker when he notices the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth, but the sound dies in his throat when he notices that your arms are wrapped around a pillow—one you’ve covered with one of his shirts. 

When he realizes that you’re clinging so tightly to something of his, even in your sleep, Steve’s heart thumps hard in his chest and he knows he can’t keep himself away from you for even a moment longer. He’s been gone too long, and he misses you too badly. 

In just a few quick strides, Steve crosses the room to the bed and slips beneath the blankets behind you. 

You always keep the air conditioner on high in the summer, needing the weight of your blankets to sleep, so Steve doesn’t notice that you’re completely naked until he bundles you up in his arms. He pulls your back into his front, slotting you in perfectly against his body.

Suddenly, there’s so much warm, bare skin pressing against Steve’s chest, his arms, his legs, that for an entire minute, his mind completely blanks out. He knows, deep down, that you did this for him. Normally, you wear one of his shirts to bed, so the fact that you’re naked means you were waiting for him—that you’re ready for him.

While Steve’s short-circuiting behind you, you rouse from sleep, giving a sleepy mumble of his name.

“Steve?”

That snaps him out of it, and he squeezes you a little tighter in his arms. “It’s me, angel,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, reveling in the way you shiver at the rasp of his beard. “Had to see my best girl on my birthday.”

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement. Wiggling your ass, you rub sleepily against Steve’s hardening cock, the tantalizing warmth of your pussy teasing him and making him groan softly against your cheek. “Want you, Steve. Inside. Please.”

The soft, broken sound of your voice begging for his cock is too much for Steve. All he can do is give you exactly what you asked for. It takes him very little time to shove his briefs down and line up the tip of his cock with your warm, welcoming entrance. 

Steve works himself inside you slowly, one of his hands slipping around your hip and dipping between your thighs to stroke your clit sweetly, teasing you open. Helpless moans fall from your lips and you bury your face in the pillow wrapped in Steve’s shirt, letting the soft cotton muffle your sounds of pleasure. 

It feels endless, the stretch and ache of taking the super-soldier’s thick cock after so long, and by the time Steve hilts himself in your pussy, you’re both breathing hard. He sucks a hickey into your shoulder, making you whine and clench around his fat dick. 

“Baby, baby, ‘m not gonna last long,” Steve rumbles, trailing kisses up your neck to nip at the edge of your jaw. “You feel too good and it’s been too long.”

You’re nodding your head before he’s finished speaking, biting back a sob of pleasure even as you roll your hips impatiently. “Too long,” you echo, and the subtle thread of sadness in your voice nearly breaks Steve’s heart.

He captures your chin in one hand, turning your head enough so his mouth can find yours. He kisses you hard, fierce, as he begins to fuck you, hard and deep. “I miss you so fucking much when I’m gone, angel,” he rumbles against your mouth, lifting up enough so that he can look into your pretty eyes, see your face as pleasure surges through your body.

You stare up at Steve like he’s your everything, one hand cupping his jaw, fingers sinking possessively into his beard and yanking him down for another kiss. “I miss you, too, Steve,” you confess against his mouth before kissing him again harder, pouring all your love for him into it as tears spill down your cheeks. 

The hard things go unsaid. Steve’s birthday isn’t the time to talk about how you wish he didn’t have to leave again, even though you know he’ll have to. And you’re grateful he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep about when he’ll be able to come home for good. For the day, the two of you will just enjoy each other. 

Steve’s hand slips back between your thighs, rubbing your clit, determined to make you cum first. He uses everything he knows about your body to ratchet your pleasure higher, getting you to the edge before he lets himself cum. Still, it’s a near thing. But he manages to find the spot inside you that drives you wild, and he pounds into it until you’re quaking in his arms. 

You pull away from Steve’s mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure in his beard, just beneath his jaw, the vibrations of you coming apart shooting down his spine and straight to his dick. He twitches inside you, your cunt clenching hard around him, and then he’s coming inside you. 

Steve ducks his head, searching for your mouth. He kisses you breathless before you both sag back into the pillows on the bed, relaxing into the post-sex haze.

The two of you fall asleep like that, you curled up in the super-soldier’s arms, his cock still buried in your body, plugging you full of his cum. You keep him warm while he sleeps, and he keeps you safe—and when you wake up, it’s to spend the day with your man, Steve Rogers, celebrating his birthday.

At least, until he has to leave again.

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡