We talk about being feral, fighting, saying no

He asks me to prop the door open, wait in my bedroom,

And his irritating ass walks in with a warm smile and a kiss

His smile is so fucking irritating

He brushes the hair from my face, traces my jaw

I beg for him, apologize, scream, tremble

He has to go.

“Love?”

You poke your head just inside the heavy oak doors, hoping you’ll catch him alone and unoccupied. Bucky’s eyes launch themselves from the man standing next to him, his grip on the papers in his hand tightening. They land on you, and, seeing you safe and unconcerned, soften. He waves his men away and you take that as an invitation to enter, Steve and Sam dipping their heads in acknowledgment as they leave.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” He says, setting the now crumpled papers down.

“Just... just couldn’t sleep is all. I was hoping you weren’t busy since it’s late. ‘M sorry”

“Sunshine, sweetheart, no.”

He pushes away from the desk, takes two large strides to the other side, perches on the edge and beckons you.

“C’mere.”

“‘M’really sorry, I thought you’d be done by now”

“Sweetheart, the only way you’re gonna end up in trouble is if you apologize one more time for needing me to love on you”

You blushed and walked forward until his thighs bracketed your own.

His arms wrapped around you, you buried your face in his neck and

“M’ S-“

“Nuh uh. You are my everything. I’d burn every fucking piece of this to the ground if you gave me the look. I’m not going to tolerate you apologizing for interrupting some bullshit meeting a couple minutes early because you miss me.”

He leans back just far enough that he can look you in the eye without letting go.

“Or is that an awful lot of assumptions to make?”

“No,” you smile, and begin to close the distance.