#bladebarnes

I sat alone in a bar in Brooklyn, waiting to break up with Bucky Barnes. It was the same spot I’d met with Steve Rogers at a year ago when he checked in on me. More than two years had passed since I’d last seen Bucky. Since he’d last kissed me in the doorway of my apartment in Bucharest. Since he’d walked away from me for the last time.

That day was supposed to be goodbye, but to both of our surprises he’d survived the manhunt for him after he was framed with bombing the UN conference in Vienna. Steve had done what he could to protect him, reversing the roles of their childhood friendship and keeping Bucky alive and hidden. Of course I couldn’t know where Bucky was, and what mental or physical state he was in, only that he was alive. Steve had told me he was safe and I believed him. Sam Wilson had alluded to Bucky being unable to hurt anyone, which had caused me to feel a little more apprehensive about his current state.

Steve had set the meeting up, calling me a week ago and telling me that Bucky was ready to see me. Two months before, I’d woken in the middle of the night to a text from him saying, “he’s awake.” I’d been aching to see him for longer than felt humanly possible, but all my waiting strengthened my decision. I couldn’t keep waiting around for him. As much as I loved him and every fiber of my being wanted to be with him, being apart for two years without hearing his voice, without even a word from him, made me wonder what I actually meant to him.

Did he even think about me over the last two years? Were Steve and Sam just pitying me and making sure some Hydra crony couldn’t find me and try to get answers out of me? I’d lived the last two years of my life trying to save my love for Bucky, treating myself like a woman whose man was caught in a war, and would return when it was done. Did Bucky even still think we were together? Was there even a relationship leftover for me to be breaking up?

I’d spent the last two years thinking about him. Waking up in the middle of the night wanting to be with him. Just wanting to even hear his voice. But I got nothing, so I busied myself. Getting a new job, volunteering at an animal shelter, spending more time with my friends, but nothing filled the hole in my heart. And I’d faltered, spent days angry at him followed by weeks when I was sad and desperately needed human contact. But no one could fill his space. And so I continued to wait.

My knees bounced nervously underneath the bar’s counter, an almost empty whiskey already sitting on a cocktail napkin in front of me. This bar was the perfect place to meet because it was quiet enough to talk but just busy enough to disappear from without attracting attention if need be. The bartender with a full beard and sparkling green eyes paused in front of me, noticing how tightly I was wringing my hands together. “Everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“Just nervous,” I tried to smile but it was strained. “I’ll take another.” He nodded at me, grabbing another glass, dropping a couple ice cubes in it, and pouring more whiskey for me. I threw back the remaining contents of my current glass and left it on the counter.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” his eyes flashing a worried look my way. I nodded at him and tried to smirk. After another moment of hesitation, he continued onto the other customers and I was left alone with my thoughts again.

I took one more gulp of the liquor, feeling it burn its way down my throat in a cruel and slow way. Torturing my esophagus, the same way the waiting game of the last two years was torturing me. Just as I placed my glass back on the counter, I heard the front door swing open.

His eyes met mine before his feet even entered the building, and his smolder made me want to melt in my seat. Instead I straightened my back in my stool and took in every detail of him. He looked, different. His hair was gone, cut shorter than I’d ever seen it in person and it reminded me of the photos I’d seen of him from the 40s. He was clean shaven, his cheekbones and jawline on full display, and he’d slimmed down a little. He was still massive looking, but leaner than when I’d last held him, and maybe his clothing had something to do with that. He was wearing a pair of tight fitting black jeans, a pair of combat boots, a white t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and his gloves. There wasn’t a layer besides his jacket in sight.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he got closer to me and a smile stretched across his lips. Everything I’d planned flew out the window. It was as if my breath had been kicked out of me for two years and suddenly I could inhale. I slid down from my bar stool on shaky knees and allowed myself to be pulled into a hug. The feel of his hands on me, his chest against mine, the fresh and woodsy scent of his after shave, the twinkle in his eyes, his wicked smirk, and his husky “hello” threw me into a sensory overload. Suddenly I was reliving every milestone and moment of ours together in Bucharest.

The first time I laid eyes on Bucky Barnes was in the stairwell of our apartment building in Bucharest. It was the day I moved into the studio directly below his.

Bucharest was the 6th place I’d stayed in 4 months, and the city I was staying in the longest. My post-graduate school travel excursion could last for only so long before I had to start paying off my student loans, Bucharest was the most affordable city I’d be in, and therefore I was able to sub-rent an apartment for an entire month compared to a couple weeks in a dingy hostel. I knew I wasn’t moving into a palace, but just walking up the stairs, seeing all the cracked plaster and cement of the pinkish walls told me that living here was going to be interesting if nothing else.

The apartments sat close together and the walls were thin. I’d bothered to buy a couple sets of cheap dishes, silverware, pots and pans, and a set of bed sheets. Nothing I would mind leaving behind or throwing out, but cooking for myself was much more affordable than eating at a food stand or cafe everyday. I’d climbed the 12 floors worth of stairs with a box and bag balanced on my left arm, and dragging my luggage and backpack with my right.

I saw his baseball capped head bob down the flight of stairs above me and the way he darted down them quietly and quickly made me think he would push right past me. I leaned my suitcase on the corner of the wall and fished my keys out of my pocket. As I twisted the key into the deadbolt I felt his presence directly behind me, large and powerful but also timid. I rushed to yank the door open and jam my foot into the frame. As I swung the thin door open I heard my luggage start to slide down the wall. I whipped around to try to catch it while also balancing the rest of my things but that was no easy feat.

Bucky grabbed the handle before it hit the ground and placed it in my hand, his gloved fingers gently brushing mine. I slid my bags onto the floor of the apartment and then carefully put down the box of breakables. Pivoting on my heel I looked for him in the hallway but he was already gone. I leaned onto the red metal railing and searched for him on the staircase. His dark, broad figure was already 4 floors below me, but I still shouted thanks in broken Romanian, “M-mulțumesc!” He didn’t slow down or respond to my gratitude, but I watched him take the remaining flights until he exited the building, a small spark stirring in my gut.

The second time I laid eyes on Bucky Barnes was on a busy street lined with vendor stalls, paper kiosks, and to my luck, a few benches. It was only a couple blocks over from the apartment building, and I’d been reading and people watching there when the weather was pleasant. Staying inside the tiny studio with cracked walls, a half-fallen apart kitchen, and stained and slightly smelly furniture only seemed to dampen my mood. Exploring the city and absorbing the culture through watching the people and their interactions with one another was my escape.

It hadn’t even been a week since I’d seen Bucky, but the thrill that ran up my spine when I caught his form in front of a produce stand made me straighten in my seat. It wasn’t cool enough for him to need a jacket over a long sleeve t-shirt, yet he was bundled tightly. Unlike the last time I’d seen him though, he had no baseball cap on. His dark brown hair was tucked behind his ears and looked like it could use a good wash, but it still appeared soft looking in the light. I lowered my book onto the bench as I leaned forward to get a better look at what he was doing.

He was rolling fruit between his gloved hands. Starting with a pair of apples, he closely inspected their skin for blemishes or bruises, and then he moved onto a basket of plums. He tested their firmness and weight in his palms, and after another moment picked out four to purchase. As he reached for his money in his back pocket a soft breeze started to pick up on the street, causing the vendor’s canopy to blow upward. As he handed the middle age woman behind the table the money, the breeze grew into a slight gust. He reached down to place his plums in a bag, and as he did so the back of his hair blew up.

As he straightened with his paper bag in hand, his hair continued to stand upward. I let out a snort that came out louder than expected, and I covered my mouth immediately with my hand to smother the laugh that followed. Bucky’s head turned to locate the origin of the sound instantly and his dark eyes met mine for a moment. I dropped my gaze instantly, placing my book back in my lap but the damage was already done.

Three days later, Bucky spent another evening with me, but he came over much later and we were on very different terms than we’d been when he’d last entered my apartment. After a brief flirtation in his doorway the day before, he agreed to help me finish the cheesecake and wine. Unsurprisingly, he showed up with a fresh bouquet of flowers and I almost hit him with them. It was an amazingly sweet gesture, but it wasn’t necessary after the heated moment we shared in my hallway.

We both dressed much more casually than we had on our last date, and I opened the door to find him in a grey henley, black undershirt, blue jeans, and his hair tied into a low bun. He wore only one glove on his left hand, and the second I closed my door he was pulling it off. I’d opted for a pair of grey jeans with busted knees and a black v-neck. I popped the bottle of wine, pouring it into the pair of cheap wine glasses I’d found, and set out the plate of leftover cheesecake with two forks. After dumping the rest of the plum and berry topping onto the dessert, we both dug in, eating directly from the same plate. The sound of forks scraping against ceramic and clinking against each other filled the air with our laughter and relaxed conversation.

Unlike our previous date, this one was spent discussing the present and the future. We’d dwelled enough on our pasts, and I didn’t want to bring up anything that would change this easy-going, confident, and happy Bucky into anything else. He revealed that he wanted to move back to the US one day, but considering he was a wanted fugitive for his involvement in the fall of SHIELD, that was probably going to have to wait.

When I asked him about marriage and a family he shrugged, his pleasant mood waning slightly, “I wanted those things when I was young, before all this.” Lifting his left hand, he stared at it, calculating how it would appear to a family, to children. “But I haven’t thought about those things in a long time, and I don’t even know if I’m still capable of that.”

Attempting to lighten the mood, I yanked his metal hand out of the air and warmed it in mine, “Babe, I know you’re technically like 100 years old, but physically you’re barely pushing 30 so you’re definitely still capable of that.”

His brows furrowed as he tried to understand what I’d meant, and as he did his mouth opened, letting out a small “ohhh” and a chuckle. “That wasn’t what I was saying, but you’re probably right.” I swallowed my last bite of cheesecake, giving his metal fingers one more squeeze and then pushed the plate his way to finish. Looking up from under his lashes, he gave me a small smirk, “I kinda like when you call me babe.”

“You do, huh?” I asked as I emptied the last of the wine into both of our glasses.

“I really do doll,” a blush was creeping across his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but bite my lip at how good he looked sitting across from me. I wanted his hands on me, wanted his body pressed against mine but he remained on the other side of my table, glancing up from his fork every few seconds to see how I’d reacted to his words.

Sitting back in my chair and crossing my legs, I cocked my head to the side and smiled, “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

After he finished the cheesecake and we both emptied our wine glasses I placed the dishes in the sink and turned to find him standing over my coffee table, flipping through the couple books sitting there. “Do you read anything?” I asked, resting my elbows against the counter as I watched him.

“Yeah, a little.” He picked up the largest book I had with me, Paradise Lost, and sat down on my couch with it. “I finished 1984 a few months ago, but it hit a little too close to home with how my memories of everything I did and was done to me like to slip in and out. I started The Count of Monte Cristo last month and I’m trying to get through it.”

I sighed, still leaning on the counter, “That’s a long ass book, but it’s definitely better for your mental health.” After skimming a few more pages, he patted the cushion next to him, motioning for me to sit. I moved reluctantly, wishing I could keep my distance and just watch him flip through a book as he chewed on his lip.

Sinking down on the spot furthest from him, I tucked my legs under me and sat facing him. He closed the paperback in his left hand, his right snaking out to my ankle and gently rubbing up my calf until he reached my knee. I tried not to react too obviously but his hand on me, even through the layer of my jeans, made my insides warm and fluttery. “Read to me?” he asked, his fingers hooked under my knee as he carefully pulled me across the couch and my legs over his lap.

“You want me to read an epic poem to you?” I asked incredulously. I wanted to separate our limbs to give me more space to think and control my urges.

“Well, obviously not the whole thing,” he shrugged as he dropped the book into my lap. “But whatever part you want to. I’ve never read it and this way I’ll be able to just listen and enjoy it.”

His metal hand hovered loosely over my calf as his flesh hand slid slightly over my knee and up my thigh, before inching back down to my joint. Squeezing my eyes shut, I held my breath in my lungs, trying not to gasp or react to his hands on me. “I don’t know if I can do Milton justice.”

“I don’t believe that,” he shook his head, causing a piece of hair to loosen near his face. “I like your voice, it’s calming to me and I could use more of that in my life.”

I let out a sigh and opened my eyes, “Okay.” Before laying back against the couch I reached out for his cheek, softly brushing my fingers against his scruff and tucking the piece of hair behind his ear, “But only for you.” He smirked victoriously at me as I tried not to melt inside.

Several pages into my favorite passage in book 5, where Satan watches Adam and Eve in Eden, I got uncomfortable laying back to read to him and sat up. His right hand left my legs to wrap around my back and pull me into him. I lost my place in the poem and stared up at him, catching the way he was watching me. The softness of his eyes, the scent of his aftershave, the warmth radiating through his clothes, all pulled me closer to his mouth.

I moved quickly, pushing the book off the couch and grabbing his jaw between my hands. Tilting his mouth toward mine, I closed the space between our lips, needing to taste him, to feel more of him. He jerked under me in shock as my lips crushed his. As his surprise wore off, his flesh hand slipped into my hair while his metal one gripped my thigh. He kissed me back, pushing my lips apart hungrily for only a second before his fingers met the back of my neck. Pulling away from my lips, he pressed his forehead against mine.

His grip on my thigh loosened, and I felt the coolness of his hand leave my leg but I still tingled where the metal had been. The problem with forcing me away from his mouth was that I could still see his pink lips as he caught his breath. My hands stayed on his face, shifting it upward the slightest bit, allowing access to his jaw and neck. Kissing softly against his cheek first, I felt his smile against my skin, and as I trailed my lips down to his jaw he tilted his head back even more, encouraging me to continue. My lips scratched against his scruff as I kissed under his jaw, and hearing the arm of my loveseat squeak under his metal grip only encouraged me to keep going.

Knotting my hands into his hair as I reached his neck, I opened my mouth and nipped at his skin before smoothing over the bite with a gentle kiss and a flick of my tongue. His groan felt like it erupted from his entire body, and it tickled my lips as I freed a hand to tug at his shirt collar. Moving closer to his collarbone, I nipped at him harder, eliciting a small gasp from his lips. As I pressed my lips against his shoulder his fingers tightened around my neck. Translating the reaction as positive, I moved my legs so that I could slip down his body easier and continued to pull at his shirt so my lips could reach his chest.

His metal hand grabbed my legs, forcing them back into their original position and his flesh hand firmly pulled my mouth from his skin. I pouted as he pressed his forehead against mine and gave me a quick peck. “Doll, I think we should get back to reading,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against my lips.

Straightening against him, I pulled my hands and face from his, and sat back, “Sorry, I-, I got caught up in the moment.”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut in, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Your lips, your mouth, that felt amazing but I think it’s best I take things, uh, slower.” Nodding into his hand, I planted a small kiss on his palm, causing him to grin. The crinkles around his eyes made my heart race and my stomach do somersaults.

Planting one more tender kiss on his lips, I swung my legs away from his and tucked them underneath me before I picked up the book. As I paged back through to find where I’d left off, Bucky pulled me into his side, wrapping his arm around my waist. I rested my head on his shoulder as I read the rest of the passage, and we stayed cuddled on the couch until he decided to leave. His goodbye was nowhere near as passionate as our brief hallway make out, but it was emotional and warm, and his way of letting me know how much he cared about me.

Someone was screaming.

I bolted up from my bed, breath coming quick from being startled. A thud came from the floor above me, and then another loud shout. It sounded scared but angry, and as more thuds came from Bucky’s apartment I figured out who was screaming. In a wave of panic I hopped out of bed, searching for a pair of shorts and shoes to slide on. I grabbed my keys and a kitchen knife before I rushed up the stairs.

Pounding on his door with an open palm, I slipped the handle of the knife behind my back in the waistband of my shorts. When no one answered I hit the door even harder, needing any kind of answer. Did Hydra find him and take him? Was he fighting a group of their agents now? Was Bucky already dead?

Just as my hand came down on the wood again the door whipped open. Bucky’s eyes, gray and haunted, met mine before checking the hallway behind me. As he shifted his focus back to me, I heard what sounded like a metal clashing against the ground and his flesh arm signaled for me to come inside. The second his defensive posture wavered, I threw myself at him. Hands gripping his face, I inspected every inch of his flesh I could see in the tiny amount of light that leaked through his windows.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, feeling his warm fingers rest against my shoulder. He nodded, only half of his face visible from the light. “Did someone find you?”

The graveness of his features shifted to surprise as he answered, “No.” Letting out a deep breath, I took a step back, letting relief flood my limbs. “What would you do if I had been found?”

I could have laughed at that question. Obviously I wasn’t a weapons trained super soldier, but I’d taken enough self-defense classes to help a little. Pulling the knife from my shorts, I waved it in the light for him to see it glint before I dropped it on the floor behind me, “I would have fought for you.”

A small yet proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he refused to enjoy my confession. “I’m fine, it was just a bad dream. You can go back to your apartment.”

“A dream had you screaming like that?” I moved to him, resting my hands on his shoulders. “That must have been a different kind of nightmare.”

“It was.” He took another step away from me, trying to keep distance between us. As he stepped through another crack of light I caught that he was only wearing a white t-shirt and boxers. I’d never seen his metal arm higher than just above his wrist, but it shined in the light and I reached for it. “Don’t,” he warned, pulling away from me.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” I asked, keeping my distance as a chill crept down my spine. I crossed my arms, trying to hold onto a shred of warmth.

“Nothing, I just think you should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you just woke up screaming.” I stared him down, needing him to react, to just say something. “And I’m not moving until you tell me why you’re acting like this.”

He shifted in the light, his clenched jaw and metal arm becoming visible. “Don’t make me move you,” he warned, his voice was nearly a growl.

“I’d like to see you try, babe,” I snapped back, his metal hand tightened into a fist at the pet name. I stood still, watching as his feet spread apart, his body preparing for an attack, except I wasn’t going to make the first move and we both knew that.

He moved quickly and light on his feet, but I anticipated his actions. His right hand reached out for my shoulder and I swatted it away while extending my other hand out to keep him back. With an open palm, I pressed against his chest gently and watched as his face changed for only a second, shifting to a pained expression at my touch. His metal arm stayed down, fist clenched, and we both knew he wouldn’t raise it to me. The hand I’d swatted away pushed against my elbow before it pressed against my back, pulling me to him. I placed both my hands against him, attempting to create distance between us. Being this close wouldn’t allow me to think clearly. His arm tightened, as if he was going to lift me off the ground, but I dug my heel into his foot, throwing off his balance. Pushing against him hard, I forced him to tumble to the ground. He grunted as he fell, but his grip never loosened around me and I yelped out “shit” as I crashed with him.

He scrambled to pin me but he still refused to use his metal arm, so I took my advantage and used my legs to pin him. My feet hooked around his knees, my hips holding down his torso, and yanking at his flesh hand quickly, I moved it above his head. He tried to shift under me but I continued to force all my weight against his lower half, fully aware that the majority of his strength was kept in his upper body. Yet he couldn’t flip me over if he couldn’t move his hips.

But I also knew that even his wiggling to get out from under me was half-assed. If he’d intended to do damage he would have flipped me over his head using both arms or incapacitated me with a metal hand wrapped around my throat. “Bucky, tell me what’s wrong,” I begged, hovering close to his face.

He screwed his eyes shut, refusing to let me see him break. “(Y/N),” he sighed shakily.

“Bucky please,” I gave up pinning him and instead moved my hands to his face.

“It’s me,” he whispered as his breath hit my face, hot and uneven. He opened his eyes as his jaw set in a hardline. “I’m what’s wrong.” His hand gripped my hip, pushing me off of him, before he stood up swiftly and turned his back to me.

I staggered to my feet, trying to understand what he meant. He rested his hands against the counter, his shoulders hunching. “They, they put all this shit in my head. They made me a tool, a killing machine and it’s still in me.” He turned to face me, a hand knotted in his hair. “It’s all still here, and I can’t get rid of it. It doesn’t matter that I know who I am again, the asset is still me.”

“I don’t care about that,” I spoke as I moved towards him, taking his face in my hands, shifting his head so that he would look at me. “That’s not who you are now, that’s what you were forced to be then.”

“I killed you,” he whispered, his gaze holding mine, tears pooling in his eyes. “That’s why I was screaming, I killed you in my dream. And if somehow I lose control, if I become that thing again, I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

I stood on my toes and gripped his chin so he’d look at me as I spoke. “You won’t hurt me because that’s not you anymore. What you were doesn’t matter to me, only who you are now. That’s the person I love.” 

The words slipped out before I could fully comprehend what I was saying, but once they hung in the air between us, I knew I meant every word. His eyes went wide and lips fell open, causing nerves to rise from my gut. I pulled my hands from him, “I’m sorry, that was too soon. I-, I shouldn’t have said that-.”

This time he cut me off, his flesh hand grabbing my elbow and pulling me back to him. My eyes met his and for the first time that night, the Bucky who’d cuddled with me three nights ago came through. “I-, I think I love you too.” His hand cradled my cheek, and as I smiled at him he pulled me closer.

He kissed me softly and slowly, as though he was trying to savor the moment. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. He took his mouth from mine too quickly, “This doesn’t change the fact that I’m still a partially brainwashed assassin.”

“No it doesn’t, but you’re not going to hurt me, babe.” Nudging his nose with my own, I kept my hands together behind his head, keeping him close to me.

“But I could kill you if something happened,” his voice grew louder, his fear continuing to claw at him.

“I’d be more than willing to go that way,” I joked, trailing my lips against his jaw softly, trying to soothe him. Instead it only made him more worried.

“Don’t say that.”

“Bucky,” I whispered, taking one of my hands from his neck to hold his face to mine. “You can worry all you want, but I’m not going to.” He opened his mouth, about to complain again but I didn’t let him get a word in. “Please just shut up and kiss me.”

He hesitated for only second before he kissed me again. Unlike his earlier efforts to be tender and move slowly, his mouth worked hungrily against mine. Tracing the edge of my bottom lip with his tongue, I moaned into his. His hand slid to my hip, grasping me against him. I knotted a hand into his loose hair, tugging on it carefully as I pushed my own tongue past his lips. His response was to dig his fingers into my flesh, inadvertently pushing the hem of my shirt up and sending tingles throughout my entire body.

Slowly maneuvering me so that we were closer to his bed, I felt his metal shoulder shift under my elbow, and his cold hand ghosted over my lower back. He wouldn’t touch me with it, but I was well past fearing any part of him. I ran my fingers down his spine before grasping his metal wrist in my hand. He pulled away from my mouth and before he could object I reassured him, “I’m not afraid of this. You’re in control now.” I pressed his hand against my skin. “You can touch me, use this to your advantage,” I whispered near his ear. I tugged on his earlobe with my teeth before kissing the skin directly below it. I shifted, speaking against the side of his mouth, “You’re not gonna break me.”

His lips met mine clumsily, kissing only my top lip before moving to my bottom one. His scruff scratched my skin as his lips pressed against my cheek and then my jaw. The metal arm wrapped around my body, moving lower with every brush of his lips down my neck. His arm settled just below my ass, fingers gripping my thigh. Lips and beard ghosted my collarbone and I let out a breathy whimper as his teeth sunk into my skin.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his arm lifting me off the ground. His flesh hand held my chest against him, and I widened my hips, allowing his torso to push between my legs. As I clenched my legs around him, hooking my ankles together to keep myself in place, his metal hand left my body. He took a few steps, moving us closer to his bed, and bracing myself on his shoulders I hoisted myself higher against him. His flesh fingers slipped under the back of my shirt as his metal arm stretched out past my body. Our mouths reconnected as our bodies began to tilt, and I gasped as I realized we were falling. Not a second later we stopped moving, a metallic thud sounding next to my head.

Lowering us against his mattress, I grinned up at him, turning my head to see he’d used his arm to catch our weight. “See, that was good.” He returned my smile, holding my face with his warm fingers, while his cool ones flattened against my thigh.

Pressing his hips against mine I pulled his mouth down, taking his sharp gasp from my lips as I dug my nails into his back. My fingers slipped down his shirt and I bunched up the material, needing less clothing between us. He separated our mouths to help me yank his shirt over his head, and as he threw it to the floor, I outlined the planes of his chest with my fingers. He always felt so firm and warm under his clothes, but without his usual layers, his skin burned against mine setting the sparks already running through my body on fire.

Metal fingertips massaged my hip as his flesh hand inched beneath my shirt, skimming my side and brushing against my bralette. His tongue pushed past my lips and I tightened my legs around him. Smiling against his lips, I rolled him onto his back. I tugged my tank top over my head and tossed it to the side before I traced the outline of his abs with my nails. Accidentally tickling him forced a giggle from his lips, bouncing me slightly as his stomach moved.

The way the light illuminated his grin set a bittersweet pang off in my heart, reminding me this was my last week in Bucharest. He was so beautiful, so sweet and gentle, so lonely and cautious. He’d been a prisoner for more of his life than not. Beaten, experimented on, and forced to commit murder against his will, yet he was still kind hearted. I cupped his cheek in my hand, thumb brushing his lips as he stared up at me with adoration. The moment felt perfect, and I knew this was the Bucky I’d always keep with me.

His metal hand rubbed against my thigh as his flesh hand ran over my side. “You’re so soft,” he whispered, giving me a gentle squeeze with his hands. If we hadn’t discussed it, I was sure he would have taken his hands off me in fear.

“And you’re not,” I answered as I sunk my fingers into his bicep and his pecs. “I think that’s a good thing.”

Leaning up to my mouth to kiss me, he agreed, “It’s a great thing.” And as his lips pulled me down to him, his hands moved my hips against his, creating friction between our already heated limbs. He groaned into my mouth, sending a chill of excitement up my spine. As much as I loved sweet and careful Bucky, I was more than ready to meet aroused and needy Bucky. After grinding a figure eight against his already hard bulge, I trailed my lips to his scruff, his neck, and finally his chest. I nipped at his skin as I ran a knuckle under the waistband of his boxers. An excited gasp left his lips, only encouraging me to move further south. As I kissed and licked his stomach, I started tugging his underwear down.

His flesh hand knotted in my hair as his metal one grasped at my hand. He guided my face back up to his and my hand away from his cock. My brows furrowed as he kissed me softly. “Do you want to do this, babe?” I asked as I kept my face close to his. Nodding against my cheek, his beard scratching at my skin, felt like an answer to me but he kept me away from his lower body.

“Yes, badly,” he breathed, nudging my nose with his own. “But I think the part of me who needs you right now is the James from before the war and the impulses of the asset. And they’re not in charge anymore, I am.” He spoke against my cheek, “My body desperately wants this, but my heart’s telling me to wait. I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

“Okay,” I nodded, moving both my hands to his chest. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to.”

His hand reached for mine, holding it to his mouth as he kissed my palm, “Thank you.” I inched my body away from his and then swung my leg away from him, allowing me to lay at his side. He kissed me gently again, as if I’d shatter any second and he’d wake up from a dream. I kissed him back, slowly and softly, hoping he could feel how happy I was to just be with him. His fingers found my hips and he rolled me onto my side so my back was against his chest and he could hold me. I helped him close the distance, but felt his hard on press against my ass.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you out here?” I rested my hand on his hip, giving it a squeeze so he’d understand what I meant.

He chuckled into my shoulder, “Doll, you don’t need to worry about it. This is not the first awkward erection I’ve had, and it’ll go away.” I nodded, feeling his forehead rest against neck as his right arm hooked around my waist. Yet, the more I tried to relax, the less I was able to ignore it.

“Roll over,” I instructed, letting a deep sigh out.

“What?”

“Just roll over.” After a moment of hesitation, he did as I asked. I slipped an arm under his pillow and another around his torso. I pressed a kiss on his neck, and then his shoulder where his scar tissue remained from his accident and his prosthetic. “See, this works.”

His metal hand rested over my hand on his waist, “Yeah, it does.”

As his body relaxed into mine and his breathing evened out, I knew he felt safe. And I felt more at home than I’d felt in months. 

It was all because of him.

The first time I saw Bucky Barnes’ without gloves on was in my apartment. In fact, it was a day full of firsts. I’d waited another 24 hours to get better from my stomach stuff, and then the next day I’d decided to thank him again for his kindness and ask if I happened to make dinner the next night, if he’d be willing to join me. I somehow mustered up the courage to walk up to his door and knock 3 times. When there was no answer I knocked some more and got no response again.

I huffed out a breath and took the stairs back to my apartment quickly. Darting around to find any paper, I ripped out an empty back page of one of the books I was reading and jotted down with a sharpie, “Thanks for the soup again, I really appreciated it. And if I were to hypothetically make dinner tomorrow night, would you be interested in helping me eat it?” I signed it with my name and folded it before slipping it under his door.

I paced back and forth in my apartment for the next couple hours, waiting for a response. Maybe the paper had gotten lost when he opened the door? Or maybe he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying no? Maybe I was delusional to think he’d even want to spend time with me?

There was just something about him that seemed lonely, distant, and almost fearful. I’d been that way for most of my life, specifically until right before my grandmother passed and she had a heart-to-heart with me. She was the reason I was traveling around Europe, trying to go after what I wanted, and make my life my own. Before I’d come to Europe, I would have never asked Bucky to come over for dinner. I’d never have followed him for multiple blocks to get his name. And maybe my courageousness was misplaced.

Just as I thought I wasn’t going to get an answer, the paper slid back under my door. I tried to pace myself but practically sprinted to see his answer. Sitting down on the floor in front of my door, I unfolded the thick sheet. He’d scrawled in jagged writing, “I’d love to, what time should I come over?” below my original question and a grin so big it made my cheeks hurt stretched across my face. Clutching the paper against my chest, I laid back against the floor of my apartment and let out a tiny squeak. He actually wanted to spend time with me.

Unsure of whether this was going to be a platonic hangout, a date, or something in between I decided to tell him to come over around around 6:30 pm. It seemed early enough to not appear like a romantic, late night dinner, but not too early to seem like a friendly get together. After jotting down the time I snuck up the stairs as quietly as possible and slipped the paper back under his door before going back to my apartment.

I was writing a list of things I would need to make dinner when I heard his footsteps lead to his door heavily. Bucky could move as quietly and quickly as he wanted, but now that he knew me he seemed to relax and not be in stealth mode all the time. I smiled as I heard his door open a moment later, as if he was looking for me but I wasn’t there. “See you then,” his throaty voice carried through the stairwell and to my apartment. I fell asleep that night dreaming about all the ways this dinner could go right or wrong.

The next morning I woke up early to go buy fresh produce for our dinner. Luckily I had already planned on making myself a crispy, thin crust pizza and had dough chilling in my fridge since two nights before. Knowing Bucky was from Brooklyn gave me more ideas for dinner though. Obviously a good New York style pizza would be welcome, especially considering Romanian pizza was quite a bit different than New York style, but I wanted to offer him another piece of home. I figured I could make a cheesecake for dessert and hot dogs kept coming to mind too. It would not be easy to find good hot dogs in Bucharest, but the excitement building inside me said I’d walk as far as I needed to find whatever might make Bucky smile or chuckle again.

I traveled all around the city, gathering fresh veggies, fruit, cheeses, bread, herbs, alcohol, and I had even managed to find some hot dogs that weren’t from a street cart. I spent the majority of the late afternoon working on the cheesecake, and then the hour or so before he was supposed to show up I started on the pizza. I changed while the pizza cooked and had quite the staring match with my closet. In the end I decided to wear a dress, but more of a casual black lace skater style dress. I wanted to look cute, but not like I was preparing for a gourmet meal. When the oven went off I took the pizza out, slid it onto a plate to cool, and then placed the hot dog buns into the turned off oven to warm. I pan fried the hot dogs last, not knowing whether he’d even eat them, but freshly cooked hot dogs were always better than re-warmed ones.

When the food was all ready, I had 10 minutes before he was supposed to arrive to pick up my apartment and do my makeup. I threw all my dirty clothes that were laying around in the hamper I hid in the closet, and I lit two of the candles he’d helped me buy to combat some of the food smells. I slapped on the most makeup I could in the time I had left, which was pretty much a bb cream, brows, mascara and a little bit of lip gloss.

Three heavy thuds came from my door as I finished applying my lip gloss and checked the clock. He was 3 minutes early. I scrunched my hair up a bit and sprayed a small amount of perfume on my wrists and neck as he knocked again. “Coming!” I called out as I scurried for the door. I yanked the door open more eagerly than I had intended but his knocking sounded impatient and I didn’t want the night to start badly.

I smiled at him with my teeth and took a deep breath before I let out a quiet, “Hi.” He met my gaze for only a moment before his eyes dropped to look at what I was wearing. He had apparently decided to clean up for me a little as well. His hair was freshly washed and combed, with no hat in sight. He was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans I hadn’t seen before, a black long sleeve henley with a white tank underneath, his jacket, and his gloves although he was holding one hand behind his back.

Regaining his focus, he looked at my face again. “Uh, um, hi,” a small smile tugged on his lips. “You look, uh, really nice,” his smile wavered but I caught a small blush starting on his cheeks.

“I mean, the last time you saw me I was a mess after spending the whole night vomitting, so anything is nice in comparison,” I shrugged and dropped my gaze, trying to deflect his compliment. If this wasn’t a date, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“No you look really good, period,” he corrected me, causing a slight blush to spread across my own cheeks. I looked up at him from under my lashes and tried to not give away how my stomach suddenly jumped into my throat. So okay, this might be a date. “These are for you,” he added as he lifted a bouquet of flowers towards me, pushing our focus away from each other.

I took the flowers from him and smelled them for a moment, my smile becoming smaller but more hopeful. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.” Okay, this was probably a date. I stepped back from the door and waved him into the apartment, before turning on my heel and going to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in. He paused with his feet on the door frame, his weight causing it to squeak under him. He stood as still as possible, inspecting my hallway closely. “I promise it’s not booby trapped. A little worn and dusty but not dangerous.”

His gaze snapped back to me and I could have sworn he gulped, but he put on a slightly apologetic face and stepped into my hallway carefully. After I’d placed the flowers into an empty liquor bottle filled with water, I glanced over my shoulder to find him standing at the end of the hallway, taking in my entire shared living room, dining room, and bedroom space. “You can leave your jacket on the couch if you want,” I told him, trying to encourage him to relax. After he finished analyzing my apartment, he nodded and laid it across the armrest.

“I hope you don’t think it’s too cheesy, but I made a couple New York classics,” I spoke turning my back to him again. I grabbed the plate of hot dogs and moved them to the counter before I grabbed a couple condiments from the fridge. I kept my back to him for another moment, fussing with the buns and the pizza. I could feel him behind me, closer than he’d been to me all night and I was afraid to see his reaction. Suddenly doing a theme dinner seemed less cute and more tacky.

When I turned around, he was leaning against the counter behind me with his right hand reaching out toward my arm. He dropped his hand as I moved the food and then leaned against the counter edge perpendicular to him. “It looks great,” he said, his eyes appearing soft and the same small smile from the doorway tugging on his lips. “I haven’t been back to New York in a while, so I really appreciate it.”

“I know it’s a little tacky, but I don’t know. I just figured a little piece of home might be nice,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I started cutting the pizza. He stayed quiet for a moment, causing me to second guess myself for what was feeling like the hundredth time.

His fabric wrapped fingers gently brushed and then wrapped around my wrist, stopping me from moving. We both stared down at our hands for a second before he looked at me again, “It’s perfect.” I tried not to grin too hard when he kept his grip on my wrist for another moment, but a couple seconds later he let me go and I continued cutting the pizza. “You know you didn’t have to do this all for me.” He dropped his hand and leaned a little farther back, putting more distance between us.

“I know.” I tried regaining my confidence, remembering how ballsy I’d been when I’d chased him down the street and asked him to come over. “I wanted to.” I peeked at him, finding another flush on his cheeks. “What would you like to drink? I have wine, beer, water, and a little bit of soda.”

“What are you gonna drink?” he asked, leaning both his elbows against my counter and sticking his butt out a little.

“Probably a beer,” I answered as I pulled out a couple plates and tried not to focus on how cute his ass looked in those jeans. “Since hot dogs and pizza normally pair best with beer.”

“Then I’ll have a beer too.” Placing two beers on the counter, I used my bottle opener to pop the caps off and then slid one to him. He nodded his thanks and took a swig. I watched as he gulped and kinda squinted at the alcohol in his mouth, and the face he made nearly made me laugh. I smothered my grin with my own beer and then got to work putting together a hot dog for me. “It’s been a minute since I’ve had a beer,” he added, trying to recover. After a moment, he took another gulp and his reaction was nearly identical. That time I couldn’t help myself and I let out a snort. He tilted his head and scolded me, “Hey, no snorting at me. That’s how we got in this mess.” He broke out in a genuine grin then, and my heart felt like it hit the floor.

“The mess of you paying attention to me?” I asked taking another drink. He nodded, leaving that beautiful grin on his lips. “I think that worked out in my favor just fine.”

“How so?” He placed a bun and then a hot dog on his plate before adding the mustard I’d laid out and the sauerkraut.

“Well, you’re here aren’t you?” I silently thanked god that I’d picked the classic Coney Island toppings.

“Was that your plan all along?” he smirked as he raised his eyebrows, causing a cute set of wrinkles to appear on his forehead.

“No, I definitely did not plan for this all.” I grabbed two pieces of pizza and navigated past him to get to my tiny table with its mismatched wooden chairs. “And you wouldn’t be here if you had no interest in spending time with me,” I added as I playfully backhanded his shoulder.

My knuckles hit something hard and a metallic sound echoed from his arm. The charm and humor dropped from his face completely and he straightened his spine. Looking at his arm for a moment and then me, he gauged my reaction. I didn’t know what to say or what was going on, but if his demeanor changed that quickly something must be up. I didn’t want to press him on it so I sat down at the table like nothing happened, but felt interest clawing at the back of my mind.

As I took a bite of my pizza, he relaxed his body and added some slices of pizza to his plate. Taking the beer and plate to the table, he sat down across from me. He lifted the hot dog to his mouth with both of his gloves still on and my curiosity got the best of me. “You know you can take those gloves off. No use getting food stains on them,” the words came out muffled as I held a hand up to my mouth to cover the fact that I was still chewing.

His steely blue eyes darted to mine and his face stayed blank. When I shrugged after a moment and went back to looking at my food, he put his hot dog back down. He took his right glove off first, and I tried not to make it too obvious that I was paying attention. I’d never seen him without gloves on and I did not have an explanation for why he wore them all the time. Pale, long fingers emerged, with veins popping out of his hands and trailing up to his arms. He stared at me another moment, contemplating taking off the left glove, but he eventually sighed and peeled it off. I controlled my expression as much as possible as he uncovered a shiny metal hand, comprised of layers of tiny metal plates allowing him to move his fingers and wrist like joints.

He measured my reaction as he lifted up his hot dog and took a bite out of it. I did my best to not focus on his hand and instead watched his reaction to the food. After he realized that I wasn’t going to press him on his metal hand, he put on a little show for me, moaning just the tiniest bit as he chewed his hot dog. That moan somehow caused a warmth to spread through my entire lower body, and trying to control myself I crossed my legs and sat back a little farther in my chair. “Not quite as good as a Coney Island hot dog, but definitely the second best hot dog I’ve ever had.”

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and took a bite of my own. “It’s not bad, but nothing beats a good cheese and bacon dog.”

He scoffed at my comment and took another bite of his hot dog before chiding me, “You know that’s a disrespectful thing to say to a New Yorker?”

“I do,” I nodded and tried not to smile since I was still chewing. “But I have a feeling you’ll be just fine.” He chuckled as he swallowed another bite and just as easily as the evening had begun, we launched back into playfully teasing each other and some actual conversation.