#escalating events

You needed to take Bucky out. Or more realistically, you needed John to take him out for you.

You could see Alexei itching to hit pause, John side-eying Bucky…

Then the music stopped, John threw himself into the nearest chair, shoving Bucky out of the way, you launched into the space between them…

And straight onto Bucky's lap.

You'd moved so fast, you nearly fell right over him, but an arm caught your waist and held you tightly.

“Not this time, sweetheart,” he laughed easily.

You scrambled off, but not before you caught the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

John won, to Bucky's obvious frustration.

“Don’t pout, Barnes,” Yelena smirked. “You’ve still got a chance at glory. Time for the team games!”

“Oh god,” Ava muttered.

“I am judge, jury, and executioner!” Alexei bellowed proudly, dragging balloons out of a trash bag.

Yelena pointed decisively. “You’re with Barnes, Ava, and Walker. Bob - stick with me.”

“You’re goin’ down, Starr,” you grinned.

“Don’t get cocky, Walker,” Bucky added, rolling his shoulders. “You’ll choke before round two.”

He smirked in return, “I'm already sittin’ on a win, Buck, you're girlfriend is gonna be drying your tears later.”

“Kiss my ass, Walker!” You threw your middle finger up in his direction.

You lined up as Yelena barked the rules: balloons, then Pictionary, then a scavenger hunt. First team to finish all three rounds wins.

“Rule is no hands or weapons,” Yelena declared. “Use anything else. Go!”

The room exploded into chaos. Walker immediately tried to body slam a balloon, missing completely and sprawling flat on his face. Ava howled with laughter.

“You're on my team!” He yelled, his pride wounded.

“It's MY team, actually!”

“That's why you're not gonna win, Walker - so selfish!” You cried with glee.

You trapped one between your back and the wall - only for Bucky to step in close, pinning you flat with his entire frame. His forearm braced above your head, his chest flush against yours, his breath hot at your temple.

Pop.

“Yeah John, gotta be a team player,” he added wickedly.

Your competitive streak won out, you had no time to think about his body bumping into yours, you lunged for another, pinning it between your stomach and the floor.

Across the room Yelena and Bob both bounced on balloons like rodeo champions.

His voice was in your ear again, his body sprawled over yours. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gonna move, or you want me to do all the work?”

Your pulse was racing faster than the game warranted.

“Keep going,” he murmured low, just for you. “I’ve got plenty of ideas how to break the rest.”

Pop.

With none left, you ran for the first of three huge sheets of paper hastily taped to the window. Alexei handed you a card.

You sketched furiously - what was meant to be a car ended up looking like a toaster on wheels.

Bucky leaned over your shoulder, so close you could feel the warmth of him crowding in. “That’s - uh - a TV? No? A tank? …Sweetheart, I don’t know what the hell that is.”

Your laugh broke out too loud, nerves spilling over. “It’s a car, Barnes. A car!”

“You sure?” His mouth brushed your ear as he murmured, “Looks like a bed to me.”

Your hand faltered. Heat rushed straight to your cheeks.

“Your turn,” you shoved the marker at him.

You hovered at his side. His drawing was rough, and yet you knew instantly.

“Spider,” you blurted.

He glanced at you, satisfied. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? That was one second!”

“What's next?” He looked to Alexei who passed you a piece of paper with a list of items.

twenty dollars

a sock

the third book from three different series

handcuffs

a blue rubber band

something pink

a blindfold

a knife

You scanned the list, already throwing your pocket knife into your designated pile. Bucky had added a twenty dollar bill and was pulling off a sock.

“I've got handcuffs -”

“I've got a blindfold -”

You both spoke in unison, blinked at each other, then grinned.

“Of course you do,” you said, arching a brow. “You get them, I'll get the blindfold, which isn’t nearly as interesting as you’re imagining.”

He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

“Move, you two!” Yelena hollered from across the room. “We’re already halfway done!”

“Shit -” You ran for the hallway with him right behind you. “Get books!”

You reconvened, bumping into him as you skidded out of your room.

“I got a blue rubber band,” he huffed.

You skimmed the list, adding your items to the collection.

“Something pink,” he muttered, his eyes flicking around the room, searching.

Your heart lurched. There was nothing in sight.

Then you gasped, triumphant. Hooking your thumbs under your top, you slipped your bra down your arms in one smooth motion, tugged it free through one sleeve, and dropped the scrap of pink lace into his hand.

His jaw flexed, eyes darkening as his fingers curled around the fabric, warm from your body.

“Pink,” you said, breathless with victory. “Told you we’d win.”

Behind you, Walker let out a bark of shocked laughter. Yelena whistled.

But all you could feel was the heat in Bucky’s gaze, the way his thumb stroked once over the delicate strap before tossing it onto the pile.

“Winner, winner chicken dinner!” Alexei shouted.

Bucky leaned in, for only you to hear. “That’s one hell of a way to win a game, doll.”

You smirked victoriously. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“Made you a sandwich,” he said quietly without looking up from the book.

You froze with your hand on the refrigerator door handle.

“You did?”

“Only just. It's fresh.”

“How did you -”

“Heard you give up on sleep, figured it was because you were hungry.”

“Oh.” That super soldier hearing again.

You took the plate over to the couch and sat at the opposite end, he shifted his feet to give you space.

“Heard it didn't go so well,” he said carefully.

You chewed thoughtfully around gem lettuce, turkey and mayonnaise. “S'a good sandwich. Thank you.”

He didn't push it. Just read on in silence.

Once you'd pushed the plate onto the coffee table, you waited, studying your hands.

He finished his page and set the book down on his chest.

“The floorplans were out of date,” you muttered, not looking up.

“It happens. That's not on you.”

“I pushed on anyway. I put them in danger.”

“Walker? C'mon, he puts himself in danger. And Ava can take care of herself.”

You sighed heavily. “Why'd Lena put me as lead?”

He didn't hesitate, “I told her to.”

He sounded so sure, so unwaveringly certain.

You looked up at that. At the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath fluttering the book pages. The curve of his bicep curling behind his head.

“I wasn't ready.” You hated how your voice wobbled.

“You are. But next time, if you want me to go with you, just say so.”

“Yeah?”

“No more crying in the shower.”

“You heard that?”

“Told you, I hear lots of things when I chose to.”

“I think we need to stop talking about the things you hear happening in my room.”

He smirked. “Now where's the fun in that, sweetheart? You ready to sleep now?”

You shrugged. You were, but you weren't. You wanted to sit right there with his knee nudging your thigh with each breath, with the tension you both refused to name simmering underneath you, threatening to drag you under.

“What're you reading?”

“Dr Zhivago. You ever read it?”

“Not for years. I tried reading it in Russian once.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, “how'd that go?”

“Badly. Don't ever ask me to translate - not that you'd need to. You'll just end up with a recipe for borscht.”

“Don't tell Alexei but I actually like his borscht.”

You mimed zipping your lips. “Mind if I sit here for a bit?”

He sat upright, stretching his arms up, his t-shirt lifting. “Of course not.”

Without you asking - without you needing to ask - he started reading aloud. “Their love was great. Most people experience love without becoming aware of the extraordinary nature of this emotion. But to them - and this made them exceptional - the moments when passion visited their doomed human existence like a breath of eternity were moments of revelation, of continually new discoveries about themselves and life…”

As he read, you moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes closed, lulled by the deep rumble of his voice.

His arm snaked around you, warming you up and pulling you to tuck in against him.

You woke up in your own bed. The blanket tucked tightly around you and his copy of Dr Zhivago on your nightstand.

Bucky’s gaze lingered. “Yeah… thought it was just me.”

“Nope,” you said grimly. “I’ll let Lena know.”

Her reaction had been instant. “Get back here now, abort the task.”

The alarms screamed the second you stepped inside the loading bay.

“Contamination detected. Quarantine in effect.”

Doors slammed around you. Val’s state-of-the-art AI calmly gave out instructions you could barely hear.

Yelena’s face appeared in the window, pale and wide-eyed.

She shut of the alarm.

“Please follow the corridor to the quarantine area. Clothing removal required. Begin decontamination process immediately.”

You froze, Bucky bumped into you. “Wait, what?”

“No, that’s not happening.” He spoke up for the first time since you’d arrived back.

He nudged you into the room anyway. The doors hissed shut behind you.

Yelena face appeared in the observation room. “Bucky, if you don’t clean that shit off, you’ve got about fifteen seconds before it starts to eat you alive. If you’d been any further than six miles away, you’d already be dead.”

“Dead?” You asked, feeling your heart sink somewhere between your knees.

“Dead dead.” She confirmed.

“Ok.” You glanced around the sterile, fluorescently lit room, suddenly all business. “Ok. Barnes, get your fucking clothes off. You’re not dying.”

“Ladies first, sweetheart.” He snapped, hesitating while you yanked off your boots and threw them into the chute.

Half a second later, he was undoing buckles and pulling off gloves.

The more bare skin you uncovered the more you could see of the rash spreading down your arms and across your collarbone.

“Quicker!” Yelena barked through the intercom.

You grimaced. “This is like one of those nightmares where you’re naked in front of everyone you’ve ever met.”

He turned, a careful half-turn, trying to respect your boundaries, but you could see the tension coiling in him. Every glance was loaded.

“Don’t think about anyone else,” Bucky said quietly, close enough that his voice brushed your skin. “It’s just me and you here, doll.”

He moved with controlled precision, his hands not touching, but close enough to ignite every nerve ending. Your breath hitched.

You didn’t look.

Not at him, not at the clothes hitting the floor with increasing speed.

“Ok, the room is sealed, the showers are going to switch on. Clean off - thoroughly - I’ll give you some privacy but I’ll stay on comms.”

Jets opened up in the ceiling, showering tepid water everywhere.

He stepped closer to check the panel, his shadow fell across your bare arms. Every nerve ending jumped at the brush of air when his chest passed your shoulder. You didn’t look, but you felt him - the faint heat of his skin, the quiet exhale that you knew was meant to stay neutral.

“You sure you’re ok?” His voice was low, just over the hiss of the shower. Not loud enough for Lena to hear, but close enough for your pulse to spike. “Water's cold.”

“I’m fine.” Your voice was clipped, though your hands shook slightly as you adjusted the dials, trying to warm it up.

He watched you, the tense dip of his neck, the subtle flex of his shoulders. You caught a glimpse of him shifting his weight, his jaw tight, fists clenched just enough to betray that he was as aware of this as you were.

He moved behind you, and the gap closed almost impossibly. Your senses screamed - every breath, every twitch of his body so close, the light brushing of his arm against yours when he reached over, and the ache it caused deep in your belly.

He leaned slightly, just enough for you to know he was waiting, watching, tempted.

Finally the steam thickened, and with every inhale, it carried his scent. Leather, metal, and something uniquely him. You wanted to turn, wanted to watch him, but the rules - your own rules - kept your gaze fixed straight ahead. And yet… you could still feel him watching you.

“You need to clean off,” he murmured, soft enough that it could be mistaken for general caution.

You swallowed. “I’m going to.” Your voice betrayed you; cracked and thin.

His eyes flicked to you sharply, assessing you, and in that instant, you caught the faintest twitch of his jaw, the way his chest rose just a little faster. Your thighs clenched together, and you forced yourself to look past him.

You reached for the panel, and his hand brushed the edge of the screen so close your fingers almost met. A spark jumped from the heat of proximity, enough to make your knees weaken. You had to bite back a moan, a gasp, a sound that would give you away.

You wanted to step back into him, wanted his hands on you, his mouth, but the thought of closing the space between you felt impossible.

Lena’s voice echoed again: “Finish up, step aside!”

He exhaled slowly, stepping away from you. His eyes dropped as he did so, freely roaming your body. Concern, hunger, restraint all flicked across his face.

Despite Yelena's instruction, neither of you moved immediately. The tension lingered, heavy with every unspoken thought.

“We need to talk about this -” He started.

You turned away first. “Yeah. Need more clothes first.”

Bucky’s gaze followed you as you stepped toward the doors, and you felt it - that thrill, that silent challenge, that shared understanding that neither of you would let go just yet.