#summer fling

You leaned closer to the window and propped your chin on your arm as you gazed out at the rural area you were driving through. The wind wiped in your face and you suddenly understood why dogs stuck their heads out of the car; it was euphoric and free. Euphoric and free weren’t words you would use to describe how you felt in your daily life. Sure, you had moved to the city after college like most fresh graduates would dream of doing, but the job you secured wasn’t as fun as you were led to believe in the interview and you were suddenly drained of energy since joining the real world. During your first year of work, your boss slowly piled more and more work upon your shoulders. You didn’t want to look like you were slacking, so you picked up the extra work with no complaint.

That was your first mistake.

As soon as you proved you could handle the bigger workload, your boss started asking you to spend more time at the office and even called you on weekends occasionally to ask you to draft a contract or schedule a meeting, or whatever other bullshit assistants had to deal with all the time. You grumbled under your breath whenever you had to put in the extra hours but turned on the smile when your boss was around.

Your second mistake was giving too much of your time to work so that you barely had a social life. While you moved to the city knowing no one, you lucked out on finding an incredible roommate – Natasha Romanov. She quickly became a great friend and helped you navigate the city whenever it seemed to bog you down. Natasha had lived in the city since she was ten and knew almost every borough inside and out. During your first year, she made it her mission to take you out every weekend to see one of the sights or to go dancing or whatever she claimed was a “must” for a newbie. It was easy to handle your work life and small but budding social life that first year.

After that, you slowly started to become increasingly burnt out and, being the introvert you were, you started to decline invitations to go out. Natasha hadn’t said anything at first, but over the years she started to drop comments here and there about you missing out on life by giving it all to work.

That was easy for her to say. She had a job that aligned perfectly with her interests and was flexible on hours. The more you got to know Natasha, the more you were sure she was destined to be a private investigator. She was eerily good at picking up on people’s insecurities and emotions. She always watched more than she talked and she always asked the right questions just the right way. Natasha radiated confidence and everyone she encountered knew not to get on her bad side.

She seemed to have her life figured out while you still felt like you were drowning most days. The drowning sensation had lessened once you quit your assistant job six months ago and started to bartend, but you still had no clue what the next few years of your life would entail. It was exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time.

Since making the career jump to being a bartender, you got to spend more time with Natasha, as she frequented the bar when she knew you were on the schedule. To be fair, you would too if the roles were reversed. Having a decent bar just across the street from your apartment was a blessing. You were saving so much money by not using the subways or buses and the tips were nothing short of amazing.

Natasha had even brought two of her close friends by the bar – Sam and Wanda. This was a big deal since she was a private person and tended to keep her loved ones close to her chest. Sam was perhaps the most boisterous person you had ever met, and his charisma always amazed you. When he came to the bar, he would have strangers eating out of the palm of his hand within an hour. Wanda, on the other hand, was more similar to you: introverted, kind, and happy to stick with her small group of people.

Having a somewhat healthy savings account, an understanding boss, and more energy for life had landed you here: stretched out in the back seat of Sam’s truck with Wanda riding shot gun and playing DJ while you headed for a beach down the coast. One of Natasha’s more lucrative clients had offered their beach house as a bonus for successfully getting pictures of her husband cheating on her with not one, but five other women. Needless to say, she had swept the field when it came to dividing their assets and you were able to enjoy one of said assets.

Natasha was already at the house with her other two friends she invited along: Steve and Bucky. You had heard her talk about them in passing but you had yet to meet the two elusive men. From what you gathered, the two served in the military along side Sam and when they were discharged, the two moved back to their old neighborhood in Brooklyn and invited him to join. Steve had become an artist and had just recently had a gallery exhibit that explored the traumas that soldiers face coming home from the battlefield. Bucky was a mechanic at a small repair shop in Brooklyn. He preferred the quieter lifestyle after coming home from their last tour.

You were a bit anxious to meet the two men, but you were more excited that Natasha was showing you her closest friends who she considered family. If they were anything like Sam and Wanda, you were sure that you would have a great time with everyone.

Within an hour, the three of you in Sam’s truck were pulling into the driveway of the beach house and various sounds of disbelief filled the truck’s cab.

“How rich were these people?” Sam asked as he peered up at the house.

“For a three-story house at the beach? I’d say very,” Wanda added as she gazed out the windshield in awe.

“And we have this house – no, mansion for three weeks?” you added.

Said mansion was enormous in your eyes after living in a tiny apartment for the past four years. The windows on the first floor were floor to ceiling, revealing a minimalist décor preference and giant pieces of furnishing in front of a purely white, state-of-the-art kitchen. The second floor, where you assumed the bedrooms were, had picturesque arched windows and a large bay window looking over the property. The third floor seemed to be a small observation room since it was mostly windows with a giant telescope in the middle of the small room. The exterior of the house was the classic beach shake style with small pieces of wood collected to make the siding with crisp white trim and a pale blue door.

“Remind me to give Natasha a bottle of wine or something,” Sam said as he pulled up to the car port where another car and a motorcycle were parked.

“Remind me to name my first born after her,” you chuckled as you all started to gather your things that had been spread across the truck during your road trip down to the coast. Wanda laughed and Sam shook his head with a smile as they shoved their belongings in their bags and pockets before opening the truck doors and sliding out.

You put your phone in your back pocket and grabbed the water bottle you had finished before jumping out and going to the back of the truck to grab your suitcase. As Sam was opening the bed, the front door of the house opened and Natasha stepped out, followed by unfamiliar, large figures. Nat walked over to you and pulled you into a quick hug before pulling back and doing the same with Wanda.

“How was the drive? I see you made it all in one piece,” she quipped as she nudged Sam with her elbow.

“Hey, I drive very well for your information,” he defended as he pulled all three suitcases to the edge.

“More like you drive like a roadrunner,” Wanda joked. “He was going at least ten over the speed limit the entire time.”

“Sue me for wanting to get my vacation started as soon as possible. Plus, we’re all safe, that’s what really matters,” Sam said as he puffed out his chest slightly.

You laughed and shook your head.

“Well, c’mon,” Nat said as she gestured towards the house. “Steve went out and got lunch for us and I’m starving.”

Grabbing your bag, you put it down on the ground before Sam closed the bed and started towards the house with Wanda. You looked up at the house for one moment and took it in before moving to follow everyone. You pulled the handle up from your suitcase and started tugging it behind you when suddenly, the handle slid out from its spot and a wheel fell off of the bottom at the same time. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment and a bit of frustration, but before you could move, you heard someone jogging over to you.

“Hey, no worries, I’ll bring it in,” a deep voice said behind you.

You turned around and saw the darker haired one of the two men right in front of you. He had beautiful blue eyes that you swore you could drown in. They looked over you as you stared at the man they belonged to. He had short hair that looked so soft and moved with the sea breeze. The lower half of his face was covered with a beard that looked like it had been trimmed recently. The next thing you noticed were his broad shoulders and strong arms. You noticed that one arm was flesh while the other was a very sophisticated, black and gold prosthetic.

He grabbed your suitcase and picked it up like it weighed no more than a feather. Heat spread through you upon seeing his muscles flex with his movements.

“Oh, thank you,” you said as you bent to pick up the stray wheel and broken handle. You turned back to him and slowly started walking to the house beside him, offering your name as an introduction.

A small, but crooked smile spread across his pink lips and he repeated your name, as if testing how it would feel on his lips. “I’m Bucky,” he replied. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Nat.”

“All good things, I hope,” you nervously smiled.

“All good things,” he confirmed.

You looked at him once more and bit your bottom lip to keep your nerves at bay. You were always nervous around men you found attractive and it was safe to say that Bucky was the most attractive man you had ever seen with your own eyes.

When you both reached the front door, he stood back to let you enter first before following and closing the door. He set your suitcase down by the stairs, next to Wanda’s oversized tote bag and Sam’s duffle bag. You dropped your broken suitcase parts on top of your luggage and looked around the foyer that opened to the whole first floor.

“Wow, this house looks like it should be in an architecture or design magazine,” you commented as your eyes scanned all the matching furniture and accent pieces that probably cost more than you made in a month.

"I think Nat said that the owner has had a few design firms take pictures of the interior,” Bucky said.

You turned back to meet his gaze and felt a slow heat creep up the back of your neck when you noticed he was already looking at you. If you were going to be here for three weeks with this beautiful man, you needed to pull yourself together – quickly.

“That tracks,” you laughed. “Most of the things in this house probably cost more than my paycheck.”

“I thought bartenders made good money,” Bucky said with a furrow in his brow.

“How did you know I was a bartender?”

“Oh, uh… Nat kind of talks about you a lot,” he added with a shy smile. Your eyes immediately fell to his lips and watched as his smile grew a bit bigger upon noticing you staring at his mouth.

“She does?” you questioned, glancing back up at his eyes. He nodded his head and watched as you bit your lip to try and suppress a goofy grin from taking over your face.

“She normally doesn’t have much to say about people, but you seemed to have made an impression on her,” Bucky told you.

“Well, I’m just honored just getting to meet you all,” you said. “She really loves you guys and I can see why. You’re all very nice and welcoming.”

“I don’t hang around people who aren’t worth my time,” Natasha’s familiar voice came from behind you. You spun on your heel to see the redhead behind you, leaning on the banister of the stairs with a sly smirk on her face as she looked between you and Bucky. “Now, c’mon. You still need to meet Steve.”

With that, she hooked her arm in one of yours and pulled you further into the house. As you both walked towards the kitchen, you chanced a peek behind you and saw Bucky standing where you were, looking down at his shoes and shaking his head. Your heart skipped three beats before settling back into a normal rhythm.

“You must be the famous roommate!”

You turned around and found another figure standing in front of you. The genuine smile on his face matched the warm timbre of his voice. The blonde haired, blue-green eyed, over six-foot tall man had the energy of a golden retriever, and it felt easy to return his welcoming energy.

“You must be Steve,” you replied. Before you could take another step forward, he swooped in to give you a quick but comforting hug. You returned the embrace at the last second, shocked that he was so outwardly friendly with even his affections. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I could say the same,” he said. “Natasha talks about you enough that I feel like we already know each other.”

You glanced over at your friend who was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you two interact with a small smile on her face. Your heart swelled, knowing you were now a part of her inner circle.

“Well, I hear nothing but great things about your art. Nat even said she thought about buying a piece or two.”

At that, Steve’s head turned to Natasha and a teasing smile took over his face. “Oh, really? I thought they were ‘just alright’.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the counter before putting her chin on your shoulder. “Remind me to not compliment people around you. You’re liable to spill my secrets.” She gave your side a squeeze before sauntering off to where Wanda and Sam were sitting at the kitchen table with their plates full of food.

You turned to the spread that Steve had gotten for everyone and started to pile a plate with food. As you were debating how much food to get, Steve and Bucky joined you in filling their plates.

“So, which one of you has the motorcycle?” you asked, trying to make small talk.

“That’s all Buck,” Steve said, clapping his friend on the back of his shoulder. “He actually built the engine himself.”

You looked up in awe at the man who had helped you earlier. “I’m sorry, you built the engine yourself? I might not know much about cars and bikes, but I know that must have been a challenge,” you said. A faint blush crept up his neck at your attention, and you felt a giddiness spread through your veins knowing that you could get a reaction out of him.

“It’s really not that hard,” he deflected. “The hardest part was finding all the parts I needed, but building the actual engine took about two days.”

You nodded, impressed that he was very gracious about his engineering feat.

“Well, congratulations,” you said. “It looks really good.”

He met your gaze and gave you a shy smile. “Thanks.”

Next to him, Steve was fighting off a smile and shook his head as if he was fighting to keep his thoughts to himself. He left the counter with a plate piled high and sat down next to Wanda. You noticed that the only two seats left were right next to each other, meaning you and Bucky would be sitting near each other.

The two of you walked over to the table after assembling your lunches, sat down, and joined the conversation. The table was made from nice oak wood, but it wasn’t very big; Sam and Wanda were practically smushed together and Steve and Natasha sat at the heads of the tables. During the meal, you noticed that Bucky’s knee kept knocking into yours every so often and you found yourself moving your knee closer to his every time he would pull away slightly. You felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and it felt like the feelings were reciprocated, but you weren’t sure if you were reading into it too much.

The next few days were full of exploring the island that you all were staying on. There were a few local museums about the native inhabitants, two art galleries filled with colorful pieces made of sea glass and oil paints, and a handful of Mom-and-Pop shops that had everything from fishing poles to surf boards to Christmas ornaments. You also went to every beach access that you could find, relishing in the soft sand, warm sun, and cool ocean spray.

You had a lot of fun getting to know everyone better. Wanda was very artistic and signed up for an art class held at one of the galleries; Steve ended up joining the class also. Natasha seemed to be immersed in the history of the island and bought a book about the local history at a small book shop. You found out that Sam had a knack for fishing after telling you about how he grew up on a fishing boat with his dad and sister. Bucky had ended up enjoying the beach nearly as much as you did, finding the sound of the waves lulling and comforting.

Getting to know Bucky had been your favorite part of the trip so far, though. You learned about his affinity with machines and science. He told you about his collection of Tolkien’s books and mentioned he’d lost count of how many times he reread The Hobbit.

He asked questions about you and seemed genuinely interested in knowing the answers, unlike most guys you dated. It was refreshing to have your interest reciprocated for once.

You also noticed that the two of you seemed to always be close to one another or touching in some way. He always sat near you during meals and your knees or feet would be touching. When you all explored the museums and shops, he held the door open for you and would guide you out with a hand on the small of your back if it was particularly crowded. At night when everyone would pile up on the furniture in the living room, he always opted to sit next to you. If you were sitting on the floor, he would sit on the couch behind you and guard your personal space like it was his job.

A few days after arriving, you all decided to spend the day at the beach. Sam was surf fishing, Steve and Wanda were sketching, Natasha was reading under an umbrella, and you and Bucky were walking along the shoreline. You were looking through all the shells you came across, and Bucky was content to hold the shells you deemed good enough to keep.

“So,” Bucky started as he watched you bend down to comb through a section of small shells, “what makes a shell good enough to keep?”

You paused in your search and looked up at Bucky, shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun. Standing in front of the ocean in his linen button up that was unbuttoned halfway and his hair moving with the wind, Bucky looked like he could be in a perfume commercial or one of the men on the cover of a steamy romance novel. His sunglasses obstructed his eyes from your view, but you could feel his gaze on your face.

“I guess it’s up to the person collecting,” you said.

“What’s your criteria then?”

“For me, I like shells that look like they’ve traveled through the ocean a long time. They aren’t perfect, but they still have a beautiful color or pattern on them,” you explained, looking back down at the shells in front of you. One that matched your description laid in front of you. You grabbed it and stood up to show Bucky. Holding your hand out, he moved closer, observing the shell in your hand. “See this one? Its edges are a little jagged, but it still has a bright color and feels smooth in my hand. It feels like it has lived a life of its own.”

Bucky reached out and slowly traced his finger down the middle of the shell before trailing his finger over your palm for a second. A shiver ran down your spine, and you had to fight the gasp that threatened to leave your lips. Bucky looked up at you and tilted his head to the side a bit.

“Jagged edges don’t bother you?” he asked. His tone of voice suggested that he wasn’t just asking about the shell’s jagged edges.

You gave him a gentle smile and shook your head. “No, they don’t bother me. Should they?”

“Some edges are sharper than others,” he explained cryptically.

You knew that he served in the military and had suffered many injuries. You had a suspicion he was talking about his jagged edges and not the shell’s. There were so many words swarming your brain, but none of them seemed adequate to quell his nerves. Nonetheless, you still had to try.

“Well, lucky for the shell, time and sand smooth the sharp edges. They never go away, but they become more manageable,” you said.

His mouth opened slightly upon hearing your explanation and you could tell that the words had landed in his chest with impact; you just didn’t know if it was something he needed to hear or something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Instead of thinking about it too much and second guessing yourself, you placed the shell in the front pocket of his button up and left your hand on his chest to cover the shell. He looked down at your hand on his pec before looking up to you.

“This one is for you,” you said, moving one finger in a soothing motion over the skin just beneath the thin material of linen. “The pattern on it reminds me of the bands of gold on your arm.”

You couldn’t tell if what you said hit a nerve or if it landed as softly as you meant it to, but you noticed him go still for a few moments before lifting his hand to cover yours that remained over the shell in his pocket. His fingers wrapped around your palm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” he murmured under his breath. If the sea breeze hadn’t paused during that moment, you wouldn’t have heard his thanks and you wouldn’t have felt a tightness behind your ribs in response.

“Of course,” you said, slowly pulling your hand away from his chest so you could resume your search for shells. “Pretty people deserve pretty things.”

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “Oh, so now I’m pretty?”

“Um, have you ever looked in a mirror, sir?” you laughed. “Your face could make anyone, man or woman, fall headfirst before realizing. It’s quite unfair.”

“Anyone, huh?”

Realizing you might have just been too forthcoming with your attraction to Bucky, you crouched down once more to the sand and looked down so he wouldn’t notice your flustered expression.

“Uh, yeah. I mean when Sam gets buzzed, he talks about the pretty boy and the golden retriever, and after meeting Steve, I know he’s the golden retriever,” you explained, hoping he would just leave it at that.

“I don’t care about what Sam thinks,” he said, his voice getting closer to your ear. You turned your head to the side to see him crouching next to you, sunglasses now pushed up so you could see his eyes. The blue of his irises were mesmerizing and more enchanting than the literal ocean at your back. You found yourself unable to look away from him.

“Don’t tell Sam that,” you tried to joke, as a deflection. “I bet he would throw a fit.”

“He’ll get over it.”

After a couple of seconds, you pulled your gaze from his and returned to looking through the shells at your feet. Your fingers combed through the shards and fully formed shells, trying to distract yourself so you wouldn’t make the mistake of throwing yourself at him.

How was it possible for someone to look so perfect in the harsh afternoon sun? It was clear that if God was real, Bucky was his favorite creation.

You picked up a pale pink shell and turned it over in your hand, inspecting it, before handing it to Bucky. When he didn’t take the shell you were extending between you, you turned your head to look at him once more just to find that he was still looking at you. The only difference was the soft, gentle look in his eyes as he took in your features. You could feel your internal organs melting together to form one big cartoon heart that threatened to beat out of your chest.

After a second, he took the shell from your fingers before looking down at the object. He flipped it over and ran his thumb over the bumpy ridges before putting it in his other hand with the rest of the shells you wanted to keep.

“Just for the record,” he started as he looked over all the various shells in his hand. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

As if you were on the set of a romance movie, the sea breeze picked up and your hair flew back in the wind as his comment hit your ears. He slowly turned his gaze back to you and you swore that the air between you thickened with something you couldn’t put your finger on.

This beautiful man had just called you pretty.

Was this real life?

Before you could say anything in response, he stood back up and held out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his grasp and let him pull you up, so you were standing right in front of him.

It would be so easy to reach out and pull your faces closer together, but his comment kept you rooted in place, still trying to process the moment.

With a wry, boyish grin taking over his face, he nodded his head in the direction of the shoreline you had yet to reach. “C’mon, let’s go see if there are any other worthy shells. I have my pretty shell, now we have to find one that’s as pretty as you are.”

As he started to walk, you expected him to drop your hand, but you were pleasantly surprised when he kept his hand wrapped around yours. The warmth from his palm seemed to transfer to your skin and soaked into your bloodstream. You felt as if you were walking on clouds and you were so sure that there was no moment in your life that could possibly top this one.

The next day, everyone seemed content to laze around the house, but you wanted to go out and explore the tidal pools you had seen the day before.

“I’m headed out to the tidal pools,” you announced to the group. Sam was asleep on one of the couches, Wanda was attempting to finish her painting from yesterday, Steve was eating something while watching a football game on the television, and Natasha was spread out on a large recliner, nose stuck in her book. Bucky had been missing the better part of the late morning and afternoon.

“Enjoy,” your roommate said without peeling her eyes from the text in front of her. Steve waved his free hand and Wanda gave you a wink.

You turned and walked over to the front door, sliding your sandals on and grabbing your bag which had your sunblock, sunglasses, and camera inside. Just as you were about to wrap your hand around the front door’s knob, the door was thrown open with a gust of wind that blew in along with the man who had been taking up real estate in your head.

His form took up most of the space in the door frame. He was panting and sweating as he stopped when he saw you. A bead of sweat slid from his temple, down the side of his face, and down his neck and you found yourself momentarily envious of the drop of perspiration. His grey shirt looked almost black with all the sweat soaking in the material. His face was a bit red, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the sun or from overexertion, or if it was from both.

“Hey,” he greeted, in a flat tone. The smile that you came to associate with him was missing from his features and his eyes seemed to lack that sparkle you had grown to admire. You offered a shy smile and a quick greeting in return.

“Um, I’m going to the tidal pools, but everyone else is in the living room,” you explained when you noticed his gaze land on your bag and your sandals. He nodded his head and looked over your shoulder to see everyone spread out, doing their own thing. You wanted to ask him where he had been for most of the afternoon, but you didn’t want to push any buttons as he was clearly not feeling like himself, from what you could tell. “You’re welcome to join, if you want. No pressure, though.”

Bucky brought his flesh hand up to scratch at the back of his neck while he contemplated the offer. You couldn’t tell which way he was leaning since he was doing such a good job of keeping to himself. You stood there in the foyer for a while, waiting for his answer. The moment felt like it lasted for five days rather than five seconds. 

His hand fell into his pocket and he looked up at you with a stormy expression in his eyes. The feeling of rejection spread through your chest, which was silly, since he clearly needed space and you were offering too much social interaction. You went to open your mouth and retract the offer, but he cut you off with a nod of his head.

“I’ll come with you,” he said. “I just need to shower and change, then I’ll be ready.”

“Yeah, of course. Take your time,” you said quickly, surprised that he was accepting your invitation after all. “I’ll just be outside by the cars.”

He gave another stiff nod before slipping past you and dashing up the stairs. When he disappeared from your sight, you went to head out the front door but caught Natasha looking at you over her book with a mischievous glint in her eyes. You awkwardly cleared your throat and left the house, not wanting to feel her stare probe you for information she probably had already gathered.

You and Bucky had been orbiting each other since you met earlier in the week and everyone had seemed to make something of it, while you were trying to figure out why you felt so out of your depth around him. The only one who had said anything was Steve after he pulled you to the side one night once Bucky had gone to the bathroom following dinner.

He started by asking you how the trip was going so far and if you were having fun. When you mentioned that you were having more fun than you expected, he quickly mentioned that Bucky seemed to be having more fun than anyone thought he would. You looked up at him curiously when he said that and he quickly satiated your need for information.

“Buck had the hardest time out of all of us when we were touring. His story isn’t mine to tell you, but he came back with a lot of baggage. After seeing him this week though, it’s like seeing my friend from college all over again,” he had explained. “You know, it takes a lot from us to get him to smile and break behind his gruff exterior, but you seem like a natural at it.”

“Oh,” you said, looking down to hide the embarrassment on your cheeks.

“It’s nothing to be shy about,” he quickly remedied. “I guess I just wanted to tell you that he seems really happy around you.”

You met his gaze at that and found a heartfelt smile on his face. You returned the gesture with a shy smile of your own and he left you on the porch overlooking the water. You had stayed out there for a while that night, thinking about all that Steve had said and all the pieces of information Natasha had dropped about Bucky over the years.

“If you don’t mind,” Bucky’s gravely voice started, breaking you out of your thoughts, “I thought we could take my bike.”

You turned to look at him and the second your eyes met his, your throat seemed to go dry. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, but he was wearing a white compression shirt that looked like it was straining against his muscles. When your eyes roamed to his face, you could see some of the light had returned to his eyes. A small smile broke across your face at the sight.

“Okay,” you conceded. “I will warn you, I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, though.”

He grinned and motioned for you to come over to his bike while he swung a leg over the body of the machine. He put his helmet on before digging around in his side bag for another. He produced the helmet and gave it to you. You fumbled to put it on, but eventually got it secured around your head.

Bucky held his hand out for you, and you took it, cautiously climbing on to the motorcycle behind him. Once you were seated, you placed your hands on your thighs, not knowing where else to put them. A rumbling chuckle emanated from his chest before he grabbed your leg and moved you closer to him.

Your chest was pressed against his back and your legs bracketed his. The feeling of his leg hair brushing against your skin made your brain short circuit and you let him manipulate your hands to wrap around his torso.

“You’re going to want to hold on, sweetheart,” he said before bringing the bike to life. The loud sound of the engine was enough to have you plaster yourself to his back and squeeze your arms around his abdomen. You felt his laughter this time but couldn’t hear it over the sound of the idling engine. He lifted his feet off the ground and the bike slowly pulled itself down the driveway. Once the coast was clear, Bucky turned on to the road and that’s when you truly felt the power of the motorcycle.

As the machine quickly picked up speed, you tried to move even closer to his body. Your thighs squeezed around his solid ones and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of your mouth when you let yourself relax a little and enjoy the wind surrounding your bodies.

As he drove, you looked around as nature flew by. You were starting to understand the appeal of a motorcycle, especially since it let you press your body closely to Bucky’s frame. The heat from the sun and his body lulled you into a tranquil state. You leaned your head on to his shoulder and closed your eyes, letting the warmth fill every cell in your body. You had never felt this content to be close to someone before and it was a thrilling feeling. All the love songs, poems, romance books, and cinema you watched about finding solace in another person made complete sense if they felt half as content as you did.

The motorcycle slowed down as Bucky pulled off the main road and came to a standstill in a parking spot on the side of the road. After shutting off the bike’s engine, his slipped his hand down your arm and gave your hands a squeeze while they were still clasped around his body. You dropped your hands reluctantly when you felt his body move to dismount. He took his helmet off as he turned around to face you as you also got down from the machine’s back. You offered him the helmet and he put both away before you started walking towards the shoreline and the tidal pools.

Bucky walked by your side but remained quiet on your trek. You didn’t want to intrude on his thoughts, so you remained quiet as well. The silence wasn’t awkward; instead, it was comfortable. You sneaked peeks at his side profile every few steps, noticing how his brows furrowed occasionally, and how his lips were pursed, but in a tight line. What you wouldn’t give to see inside his mind.

After the five minute walk to the tidal pools, you set your bag down on a big rock and pulled out your camera, ready to shoot some wildlife portraits. The clear waters allowed for you to see sea stars, urchins, barnacles, and tiny, colorful fish feeding in the pools. You looked over your shoulder at Bucky and saw him looking at you already. You gave him a small smile before turning back to the tidal pool and crouching down to get a closer shot.

“I didn’t know you were into photography,” Bucky observed from behind you.

You nodded your head and took another photo before turning to face him. “My parents gave it to me when I left for the city,” you explained. “I never ended up using it. It sat on my bookshelf collecting dust for years, but Nat encouraged me to take it on this trip and finally start using it.”

“Too busy galivanting around the city to use your camera?” he jested.

“I wish. More like I was drowning in work and didn’t realize I was selling my soul to the corporate world,” you said with a laugh at the end. “I would use all my energy at work, trying to prove to my boss and everyone else how good I was with completing tasks. Why? I’m not sure, but it seemed like something I was supposed to do. By the time I would get home, I would barely have enough energy to cook for myself or even shower some days,” you confessed, trying your best to gloss over the harder bits of your life in the first few years after college.

“I understand,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes life takes more from you than you thought you would give.”

You nodded your head in agreement. “Switching careers helped get my life back, I guess. Or at least it made me realize that some things are more important than my professional life.”

 “What have you found that’s more important?” he asked.

“I found out how much I enjoy hanging out with people and that I didn’t need to work all day, every day just to make a living,” you answered. “Being a bartender isn’t exactly the glamourous life, but it pays the bills and lets me have free time outside of work. And that’s where I found that life happens; in those moments you get every day. I was just wasting my life by working and coming home and crashing out from my lack of energy.”

There was a pause in the conversation as he seemed to think over your words.

“Plus, if I was still at my shitty corporate job, I wouldn’t have been able to come to the beach and finally meet you and Steve,” you added with a small smile.

“Well, then I guess I’m grateful for your career change, too,” he muttered. You weren’t sure if he meant for you to hear his words, but you were glad that you did. Your heartbeat picked up its pace momentarily and you could feel the back of your neck flush.

You turned back to the tidal pool and put your camera down, opting for touching the creatures in the water. The fish scattered as soon as your hand reached into the pool. You traced your fingertip over the sea star, feeling its ridges and appreciating its color.

The sound of your camera’s shutter opening and closing stole your attention and you looked over to see Bucky holding the camera in your direction. The surprise on your face must have been another great moment to capture in Bucky’s mind since you heard the camera take two more pictures. A goofy grin took over your face and he snapped another photo before pulling the camera down from his eye.

“Too good to not document,” he said with a shrug as he put the camera back down beside you.

“Well, now it’s your turn, mister,” you chided as you picked up the camera and pointed it in his direction.

His features changed from appreciative to mild discomfort as he started to lift his hand to block his face. Your fingers were faster, though, and you caught a candid of him that you were sure was going to turn out beautifully.

“I don’t think you need to take pictures of me,” he said, as if trying to play off his importance. “Save your film for the beach.”

“But you’re a part of this trip and I want to remember you,” you explained.

The discomfort disappeared as a shy acceptance took over and you quickly snapped more pictures, hoping you could capture the expression on his face. You wanted to remember him in this moment for the rest of your life. His gentle appreciation and surprise were sure to make your stomach flutter when you got the photos developed.

“What? Are you going to be done with me after this trip?” he goaded.

A giggle slipped out of your lips and you tilted your head to the side before you answered.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you, Bucky.”

His blue eyes were almost swallowed by his pupils as they enlarged. The small smile disappeared from his lips and he looked at you with a stunned expression briefly before it morphed into a playful one.

“Good, because I’m nowhere near done with you,” he replied.

When his words graced your ears, you felt your lungs stop breathing and your pulse stop briefly. You had never had someone express their interest in you so clearly and to say it was wreaking havoc on your nervous system would be an understatement.

The two of you were walking back to his motorcycle when you passed an elderly couple going for a walk on the beach. An idea popped into your head and you rushed up to them, asking politely if they could take a couple of pictures of you two. After they agreed happily, you skipped back to Bucky who looked confused.

“Smile, pretty boy,” you joked. “I want some pictures of us.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest as he accepted the circumstances. When you were side by side, he slipped his flesh arm around your waist and tugged you closer in to his side. A surprised squeal came from you as you regained your footing from the surprise movement. You looked over at the couple and gave them a big smile, excited that you would be able to have documentation of his arm wrapped around you.

After the couple took a few photos, they walked over to you and handed you back your camera.

“You two are just adorable,” the woman gushed. “I’ve never seen a better looking couple.”

Bucky stiffened a little beside you before dropping his hand from your waist as if he had been burned and you gave an awkward chuckle.

“We’re not…” you trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. You weren’t a couple, but the way you felt spending time with him was what you assumed partners would feel about each other.

“Sorry, about her,” the man jumped in. “She just loves love and sees it everywhere she goes.”

“It’s no problem,” you quickly said. “Thank you for the photos! Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

They wished you the same as they resumed their stroll along the beach. You put your camera back in your bag and looked up at Bucky. He was looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint but tried to cover it up when you met each other’s gaze. He nodded his head towards the road and you followed along after him.

As you walked behind him, you couldn’t stop yourself from overthinking. Did the implication of you being a couple make him that uncomfortable? Was it you or just the idea of being in a relationship? Had you been reading too far into your time together and all the smiles you shared? He said he would never be done with you just a few moments ago, but did he mean it in a different way than you had?

You had to stop yourself from going down the catastrophizing route or you would ruin the rest of your day. As much as you wanted to think about all the possibilities, you didn’t want Bucky to see you spiraling since he already seemed to be on edge before you even left for the tidal pools.

When you reached the motorcycle, Bucky handed you the helmet once more and sat down before offering you his hand. Instead of taking his hand, you placed your palm on his shoulder as you swung your leg over the body of the bike. You secured your helmet and placed your arms on his side, waiting for him to start the bike. After a moment, he started the engine and slowly backed out onto the road before taking off towards the house. You wrapped your arms around him but tried not to press yourself too close.

With your feelings and emotions being all jumbled right now, the last thing you needed to do was confuse yourself further by sinking into his warmth. You felt him stiffen after a minute. Could he feel you holding back or was he just adjusting his posture?

You shook the thought off and focused on the dunes and sparse patches of grass instead, reminding yourself not to spiral. All it would do is make the situation more uncomfortable and awkward and that was the last thing you wanted.

When Bucky pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, you took a moment to gather yourself before slipping off the bike and unlatching your helmet’s strap. As you handed the helmet back to Bucky, you glanced over him briefly and mustered up a smile.

“Thanks for the ride and coming with me,” you said.

“Yeah, no problem,” he said after coughing to clear his throat. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but no words came out of Bucky’s mouth afterwards.

With that, you turned and headed for the house, needing a little space to sort out your thoughts and feelings. You could hear Bucky walking behind you, but his footsteps weren’t as close as they had been in the previous days. It’s like he knew you needed space and was granting it to you. You didn’t know if that hurt more or if you were glad for it.

The rest of the day passed by quickly with dinner and a small game of poker before everyone went to bed. Bucky had been the first to call it a night, followed by Sam, Wanda, and Steve.

You and Natasha were cleaning up the poker chips, drinks, and cards when she turned to you and examined your body posture.

“What happened?” she asked. “You weren’t as smitten when you got back from the tidal pools.”

“It’s nothing,” you deflected. “Just tired from the sun.”

She narrowed her eyes and cocked an eyebrow. You prayed she would let it go for now, because you didn’t even know how to voice what was going on in your head. As if she could sense you pulling into yourself, she let out a sigh before she continued to clean up after everyone.

Natasha retreated to her room for the night after giving you a much needed hug, leaving you all alone in the living room. You weren’t tired, but you didn’t want to make too much noise and disturb anyone’s sleep, so you grabbed a light blanket and walked out onto the deck. You sat down in one of the chairs closest to the railing and draped the blanket around you.

You sat with your knees pulled into your chest and rested your chin on top of your knees. Above you, the moon was in the process of waning and the stars twinkled around it as if they were talking to each other. The sight was beautiful and it helped to calm the storm brewing in your head.

Just as you were starting to truly relax, the back door slid open and you heard footsteps approach you from behind. You kept your head forward, refusing to tear your gaze from the cosmos in front of you until you heard the chair next to you scrape against the deck as someone took a seat next to you.

You looked over and saw a familiar pair of blue eyes looking at you with something akin to regret in their eyes. You didn’t say anything as you turned your head back to the stars. If you continued to look into Bucky’s eyes, you were sure you would crumble or burst apart.

“My real name is James,” came a quiet murmur from the man next to you. You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes and saw him fidgeting with his hands, entranced with the sight of his own fingers moving around. Your head remained on your knees, but you tilted it in his direction instead of the stars’. “Bucky comes from my middle name, Buchanan. My mom had an affinity with names from the early nineteen hundreds.”

“You kind of look like a James,” you chimed in.

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head before looking up to meet your gaze.

“My sister used to call me Jimmy,” he added, earning a small smile from you. “I remember Steve tried to call me Jimmy once.”

“What happened?”

“I chewed him out and he never said it again,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin presenting itself on his face. “I let him get away with a lot of other things, though. He was practically my brother.” He paused and turned his gaze out to the stars you were admiring earlier. You didn’t know where this conversation was going, but you were content to let him think through his words before sharing them with you. “We first met in kindergarten. He was this small kid who could have disappeared with the wind if it was strong enough. There was another kid on the playground, Connor, who used to tease him and push him around. I didn’t do anything to stop it the first week of kindergarten, but once he started to talk about his mom, I could see that Steve was ready to fight. I couldn’t let him fight when one punch would have sent him to his early grave. So, I stepped in and gave Connor a pretty good beating. I got in a lot of trouble for it and had to spend the rest of the week’s recesses in the classroom instead of on the playground. But Steve stayed back with me. The first few days, he didn’t say anything to me, then one day he came over and sat at my table and started talking about some cartoon he saw on the television and ever since then, we’ve been best friends.”

You had no problem conjuring a small Bucky and even smaller Steve in your mind. It was heartwarming to know that Bucky was a defender of those who needed help.

“We went through school together, got our driver’s license together, pulled pranks on my sister, Rebecca, and the other neighborhood kids, and talked about everything we wanted to do. We were best friends and I can’t imagine growing up a different way. Right after we finished college, we went into the army. My old man had served and Steve was hellbent on protecting others any way that he could. I wasn’t going to let him go by himself, so I joined with him. My parents were proud. My sister was mad that I wasn’t going to be able to drive her and her friends around anymore, but also proud.”

As he told his story, you watched him intently, watching his thoughts and emotions play out in real time across his face. By the way he kept fiddling his fingers and the way his brows pulled together tightly, you could tell that this was taking a lot of effort on his part.

“Steve got drafted into this government program for soldiers and disappeared for about a month before coming back a completely different person. Before, he was so thin and lean and when he came back, he seemed to grow almost a foot and gained muscles that should have taken years to build. He couldn’t tell me about what happened, but the changes spoke for themselves. The kid that used to wheeze when spring would come around was suddenly running laps with me without breaking a sweat.”

“That must have been jarring for you,” you noted.

He nodded his head. “Yeah, it took a while for me to get used to. After another month of training, we got assigned our divisions. I was a sergeant in the one-oh-seventh and Steve was going to be returning to whatever program made him what he is today. I shipped out pretty soon after that and I was thrust into the middle of war. Everything we learned in basic training was miles away from what was happening on the ground. There was one night when we were resting in the barracks when the power cut out. At first, we thought nothing of it, but then we started hearing gun fire. Turns out, we were being ambushed in our sleep. I remember stepping out with my gun held in front of me before being hit in the head with something hard. I blacked out and when I came to, I couldn’t tell where I was.”

Bucky took a deep breath and balled his hands into fists before continuing.

“I was strapped to a table, hooked up to an IV and something else that was a bright blue. I didn’t know it at the time, but whoever took me was using their own version of whatever the government gave Steve. They were building biologically enhanced soldiers. I can’t remember much of my time being held captive, but I just remember a searing pain running through my veins and people talking above me in a different language.”

His knuckles were white from how tightly he was clenching his hands and you could feel your heart break into pieces from watching the pain he was going through just to retell the story to you. You didn’t want to invade his space or push him too far, so you reached a hand out and placed it on the arm of his chair. Your index finger extended and you gently traced circles in the side of his sweatpants. The touch seemed to help him as he relaxed his hands a bit and took another deep, steady breath.

“Eventually, Steve’s division found me and saved me and a few of my other men. When we came back to the base, I was brought to a room with Steve and the head of the government program he had been a part of. They explained everything in detail and before I could process everything, I was thrust into the same division as Steve. There were only a handful of us that had survived the biological experiments. After a week of rest, I was back in the field running operations with Steve and the others. Everything was fine for the first month. Our missions always ran smoothly and we could handle the loose ends that came up every now and then,” he said in a somber tone. “But one mission came and before we knew we had been compromised, we were separated by a blast. I was knocked back so hard that I couldn’t stay fully conscious. I couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in my ears and my arm felt like it was being pulled from my body. Someone dragged my body somewhere and the same foreign language filled my ears from my first time being captured.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to—” you tried to reassure him.

“I know, but I want to,” he said, grabbing your hand that was resting on his chair’s armrest. His gaze turned down to your hands clasped together before he continued. “I remember bits and pieces of what happened, but it’s all a blur. I remember waking up and feeling a heavy weight on my left shoulder and when I looked down, my left arm looked like it belonged to a cyborg, not me. Looking around, all I could see was blood everywhere and people talking around me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying and I ended up passing out from the pain. The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital in the States with a commanding officer in front of me telling me how I was being honorably discharged for my service.”

Tears pooled in your eyes as you imagined a young and distraught soldier who had already been altered without his consent waking up to find that he had lost a limb. You squeezed his palm and brushed your thumb over the back of his hand. All you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and keep him safe for the rest of his life, but you knew that wasn’t possible.

“My parents came and took me home. I remember my mom nearly falling down when she saw me for the first time in the hospital room. My dad had gone ghost white and sat in silence. When I got home, Rebecca was there and I remember her falling apart when we first saw each other.” Bucky took a deep breath and finally looked over at you after telling his story. You could see the devastation in his eyes and the quiver of his bottom lip. “It was a long road to recovery, and honestly, I’m still living with the ghosts of my past every time I close my eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.”

You moved your body closer to his chair and nodded your head. “I don’t think anyone expects you to be, Bucky.”

“I just – it’s hard for me to imagine anything normal in my life,” he nearly sobbed. “Today was the anniversary of me coming home and it all piled up as soon as I woke up this morning. I ran myself ragged trying to literally run from my past this afternoon, but then you offered me an escape that wasn’t a form of punishment. Going to the tidal pool with you was a momentary breath of fresh air and I could feel myself letting all my thoughts go. But then that woman made that comment about being a couple and it just tore the wound open again.” His eyes became glassy with unshed tears. “After everything, it’s hard for me to want to open up and see myself sharing a life with someone because that means they have to hold my baggage and that’s not fair. But then, meeting you…”

He trailed off and brought your hands to his lips, gently brushing them over your knuckles. At the gentle touch of his skin to yours, the tears you were holding back escaped from your eyes. After hearing his story, your heart swelled ten times its normal size. To know he had been through hell and back, twice, and still chose to continue living his life to the best of his ability was more than admirable. It was awe inspiring.

“The day we met, I felt like a young boy again, seeing a beautiful woman for the first time. For the first time since I returned home, my first thought wasn’t to run away, but to stay and get to know you,” he explained. “It was like opening the window after a long, harsh winter and feeling the first warm breeze of spring.”

You didn’t know what to say. There were so many thoughts and affirmations you wanted to shower upon him, but you knew this wasn’t the moment to overwhelm him. This was a moment to comfort him and just be here.

“Thank you for telling me, Bucky,” you whispered, hesitant to break the silence that followed his past. “I’m so sorry that you had to experience what you did, but I think you are still worthy of everything you wanted before life dealt its hand to you.”

He looked at you and held on to your hand as if it was anchoring him to the earth. In a rare moment of vulnerability, you felt him pull your arm closer to his body and you followed, getting out of your chair and standing in front of him as he pulled you closer, between his knees.

“It’s hard for me to believe I’m worthy of normalcy, but I think I want to try when it’s you saying it,” he said, gazing up at you with his turbulent blue eyes. “I’ve never felt this way with someone before and I know it’s selfish, but I want it.”

Your hand that wasn’t encased in Bucky’s reached up and threaded itself through the soft locks of his hair. “It’s not selfish,” you stated, leaving little room for disagreement. “It’s human.”

The tears that made his eyes glassy finally spilled over his lids, streaming down his face as he pulled you closer to bury his face in your stomach. His hand let go of yours in favor of winding around your waist to bring himself that much closer to you. Your now free hand joined the other one and you gently swept your fingers through his hair, comforting him during his moment of emotional turmoil. You could feel his tears soak through your shirt and his hold tighten around you, but you remained still, giving him just a fraction of the comfort he deserved.

After a few moments, he pulled away and looked down at his feet. You could feel the awkwardness trying to worm its way between you two, and you would be damned if you let it. You gently cupped his chin and tilted his head up to meet your gaze. “I want this, too,” you admitted, earning a small but genuine smile from him. “And just so we’re clear, I’m not stuck carrying your baggage. I want to help you carry it.”

You could see the moment the words landed with Bucky. The weight of his shoulders lessened, the sorrow left his eyes, and his eyes sparkled with warmth instead of tears. His metal hand slid up your waist, slipping under your shirt to land on the warm skin of your lower back. The sensation of the cool metal sent shivers down your spine. Your fingernails scratched his scalp and you watched as his eyes fluttered shut in contentment.

Everything that happened today made perfect sense after hearing him out and you wanted to kick yourself for selfishly thinking that you were the root of his unusual demeanor. People were nuanced and knowing what he’d been through had ripped your heart open, but hearing him admit that he still wanted whatever was happening between you – even if it scared him – had mended your broken heart and fortified your admiration for the man in front of you.

His piercing blue eyes opened after a moment and you could practically feel the heat emanating from them. Bucky guided you to sit in his lap, sealing the remaining distance between your bodies. You were nose to nose and seeing him this close had your stomach churning in anticipation. Your eyes traced his features from the crow’s feet by his eyes, the slope of his nose, to the dark pink of his plush lips. His lips were less than an inch away and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from them.

They looked so soft and inviting and you knew that if you had a taste, you would be addicted for life. It was taking all of your willpower to stop yourself from leaning in and sealing your lips over his mouth. You knew you shouldn’t especially after the day he had gone through. Revisiting the past was never fun, but in Bucky’s case, it was probably one of the seven layers of hell. You didn’t want to overwhelm him or take advantage, so you settled for brushing the tips of your noses together.

You could feel his body relax further underneath yours and it brought you a sense of comfort that you could relieve him of whatever plagued his mind, even if for a moment. One hand rose to bury itself in his hair once again while the other came up to rest on his jaw. His beard was surprisingly softer than you thought facial hair could be. You lightly scratched your nail through the hair and you swore you could hear him purring.

A soft, but crisp breeze blew across your forms and you couldn’t help but shiver. The light blanket you had draped over your shoulders had fell the moment you moved closer to him and while the heat from his body was entrancing, you knew that you should move inside.

As if sensing that you were about to move, Bucky’s metal arm wound tightly around your waist and his flesh hand gripped your thigh tightly. “Don’t go,” he said in the softest whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere except for inside,” you said with a smile. “It’s a bit too cold out here for my liking.”

“Mm,” he hummed while clutching you even tighter.

“C’mon,” you gently urged. “Let’s just move this moment into a warmer place, like the living room.”

 After a little more coaxing, Bucky relinquished his hold on you while the two of you moved indoors. When your bodies reclined on the couch, you gravitated towards each other and found your limbs intertwined once again with Bucky’s head resting on your sternum and your fingers working their way through his hair. It didn’t take long for him to drift off and you were content to remain his pillow for the rest of the night.

As you slowly woke from the grips of your slumber, you felt a heavy weight on your chest and a warmth against your left side. Before you could process the sensations you felt, you heard the click of a camera shutter and the whispering of multiple voices around you. You opened your eyes slowly to see Natasha, Steve, Sam, and Wanda standing above you, all with different expressions on their faces ranging from shock to pride to feigning disgust; the latter obviously being Sam.

You looked down at your chest to see Bucky slowly waking up from the noise and you wanted to chide the adults in front of you as if you were a mother hen protecting her own. As he woke from sleep, Bucky sat up slowly and rubbed his shoulder before opening his eyes. He froze in his movements and stared at your friends who were still standing above you both. When he noticed the camera in Natasha’s hands, he turned to look at you and you could see the recollection of last night catch up to him as he saw you still laid out next to him.

A flush quickly spread across his cheeks and the back of his neck as he realized you were caught cuddled up on the couch together. You stifled a laugh and sat up as well.

“Sleep well?” Natasha coyly asked as she looked between you two.

You grabbed a pillow from beside you and threw it at her playfully, getting everyone to give you both some space. Once they dispersed, you turned to Bucky only to see him already looking at you.

“I guess we should get ready for the day,” he said in a gravelly voice due to not using it for hours.

You nodded your head and let him pull you from the couch and up the stairs towards your bedrooms and bathrooms. The two of you separated to get showered and dressed. Once you finish putting your bathing suit on and pulling your coverup on, you descend the stairs and head to the kitchen to get some food. There, you find Bucky sipping coffee from a mug, scrambling eggs on a pan over the stove. As you walk over to stand beside him and make your own coffee, Natasha and Wanda slide up beside you.

“We’ve decided that we are all spending the day at the beach again,” Wanda said with a kind smile on her face.

“Yep, and you’re going to hang with us and not Barnes today,” Natasha added.

Next to you, Bucky’s shoulders slouched hearing the girls demand your presence. You had to admit you were also sad that you wouldn’t be able to spend the whole day with him. After last night, the connection you felt to Bucky had strengthened and you wanted to explore all the other ways you guys could deepen the budding feeling between you. But you also wanted to spend time with your ladies.

“Yeah, and Barnes, you’re going to spend the day with us,” Sam mocked as he walked over to put his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. Bucky flipped him off without turning around from the stove and you suppressed a giggle. “Damn, I thought you loved me,” Sam continued to tease. “I’m wounded.”

“Fine,” you said to Natasha and Wanda. “But I just want to lay on the beach today.”

“Deal!” Wanda squealed. “I’ve been needing to work on my tan.”

With that, the two women left to get dressed for the day and you and Bucky sat down at the table to eat your breakfast. Sam and Steve had left the room quickly after Bucky shot them a glare that was meant to wither. The two of you ate in a comfortable silence.

“So, what are you going to do today?” you asked Bucky after drinking the last bit of your coffee.

“I’m not sure,” he said, pushing his plate and cup away before turning to face you. His eyes were twinkling with a hint of mischief. “Maybe I’ll work on my tan.”

You laughed, throwing your head back as you imagined you, Wanda, and Natasha laying on the beach, under the hot sun, with Bucky next to you, doing the same.

“Mm, you are looking rather pale,” you played along. “Plus, we’d still be able to spend the day together.”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” he said with a wink before collecting your dishes and cleaning them up. You were practically beaming as you watched him clean up around the kitchen, admiring him as his large frame carried him around the kitchen gracefully. You watched the way the muscles in his arms contracted as he scrubbed the pan and put it on the drying rack. And with his back to you, you were free to ogle the rippling muscles on his back. It was a lovely sight to behold.

A simmering heat appeared in your stomach and you could feel it spreading further south, making you clench your thighs together. You tried to regain your composure. This man had just told you about his horrific past and here you were less than twelve hours later, lusting over him while he did something so domestic and normal.

Bucky turned towards you when he was done and leaned against the counter. You slid out of your seat and slowly walked over towards him. When you were within arm’s reach, he wrapped his metal arm around your waist and pulled you against his body. You put your hands on his chest, steadying yourself from the sudden movement.

“Good morning,” he muttered as he brought his nose to the crown of your head. Your body melted into his and returned his sentiment.

“Good morning, pretty boy.”

He grunted and pulled back to look down at you once more.

“Sorry we were woken up by those idiots,” he apologized while rubbing small circles into your hip as his cool hand slipped lower. His flesh hand brushed a few strands of hair out of your face and lingered on your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m just hoping I don’t look like a mess in the picture they took.”

“I’ve never seen you look like a mess,” he reassured.

“That’s what you’re supposed to say,” you brushed off.

“Whether I’m supposed to say it or not, the statement still stands,” he said as he brushed his lips against your forehead. At the sensation of the soft sign of affection, you gripped his shirt and tipped your head up to look into his cerulean eyes.

“Thank you,” you said, not knowing if you meant it about the compliment or if it was for sharing a part of his soul last night. Regardless of whatever the reason was, you didn’t know what other words could sum up the circus that was going on in your heart.

The look on his face changed to one that was similar to awe and you wished he could look at you like that all of the time. You leaned forward on your toes as he began to lean down and you both paused when you were close enough to brush your lips against one another’s. You looked into his eyes and swore you could swim in them and never tire of it. How could someone have eyes this marvelous?

Just when you were about to close the distance and finally fuse your lips together, you heard Natasha call your name in a teasing tone. You both deflated a bit upon having the moment disappear. Your limbs slowly detangled from each other and you took a step apart before exchanging shy smiles and turning to see everyone standing at the door, looking like they had been waiting on you for minutes.

You walked over, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks, and Bucky followed. Once everything was gathered, you all piled into Sam’s pickup truck. The boys sat in the cab of the truck while you, Nat, and Wanda sat in the bed of the truck. The weather was perfect and the wind was soothing as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, enjoying the wind blowing through your hair. Natasha was grumbling about the wind messing up her hair and you could hear Wanda laughing at her. When you opened one of your eyes, you saw a miffed looking Natasha, Wanda was moving her hands through the air in childlike joy, and a pair of brilliant eyes staring at you through the back windows of the truck.

Bucky didn’t avert his gaze when you opened your other eye and peered at him in curiosity. Instead, he just smirked and continued to look at you. While you enjoyed his attention, you didn’t know what to do with it in this moment, so you settled on an instinct you’ve had since you were four.

You stuck your tongue out at him and watched as he broke into a fit of laughter. Smiling, you looked down and shook your head. It was amazing to you how Bucky brought out this side of you that you had thought was lost to time. You weren’t scared to be yourself around him and to be goofy or affectionate. Other relationships in the past had felt like learning experiences compared to this. This felt freeing and exhilarating and you couldn’t wait to see where this summer trip would lead you two.

About five minutes later, Sam pulled up to the beach access and everyone piled out of the vehicle, gathering their towels, sunblock, and whatever else they brought. You pulled your sunscreen out of your bag and started to lather the protective balm over your skin. You were able to get it everywhere except for your back. When you turned to ask Wanda or Nat if they could help you, you saw that they were already helping each other.

“I can help,” Bucky’s voice said from behind you.

You turned around and saw him standing in front of you without his shirt, already slick with sunscreen. He extended his hand and you put your lotion bottle in his hand and turned around, gathering your hair into your hands so it doesn’t get in the way of the sunblock.

You thought you had mentally prepared yourself for having his hands on your skin, but when his hand made contact with your shoulders, you could feel yourself turning boneless under his strong touch. His touch spanned from your shoulders and the back of your neck, down your arms, and over the expanse of your back. His calloused hands felt like magic as they rubbed the sunscreen into your skin. His touch left a trail of tingles in their wake and you had to fight a whimper that tried to escape from your throat as he pulled his hand away.

Spinning around, you took the bottle and put it back in your bag before gazing up at the man in front of you. “Thank you,” you said.

“It was my pleasure,” he said while his eyes trailed over your skin before meeting your eyes.

“Alright lovebirds,” Sam yelled to get your attention. The two of you looked over and saw everyone holding their belongings, ready to head to the beach. “If you’re done, the rest of us would like to hit the beach.”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” Bucky shouted back, waving his friend off playfully before taking your hand in his. The two of you followed the group and walked over the dunes to the beach. After a short walk down the shoreline, you all found the perfect space. It wasn’t too close to other beach goers and it gave the boys enough room to throw the various balls that Sam and Steve had brought with them. You dropped Bucky’s hand as you were pulled over to the tanning area where Natasha already had her towel set up. You set up your towel next to Wanda’s and sat down as Natsha laid down, propping her hands over her eyes for protection. You looked over at the men as they threw a football back and forth. Bucky was facing you and sent you a playful wink when you shot him a smile.

“So,” Wanda started, “that happened quickly.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I wasn’t expecting it, but there’s something about him that makes me feel…”

“Seen? Smitten? Lovey-dovey?” Natasha filled in as you trailed off in thought.

You rolled your eyes and laid down on the towel, covering your eyes as Natasha had done. The warm rays of sunshine and the soft sand and towel under you had you slipping into a very agreeable mood that you normally wouldn’t have in a situation like this.

“Honestly, yes,” you answered. “I haven’t felt like this since I was eleven and had a crush on Zac Efron.”

Wanda broke into a fit of giggles and Natasha remained silent, but you had no doubt she had a victorious smirk on her face.

“You laugh, but the second I laid eyes on him in High School Musical, I was done for,” you replied with a small laugh of your own.

“Well, I think it’s cute,” Wanda said. “And I’ve never seen Bucky open up like this to anyone, let alone this quickly.”

You hummed, not knowing what to add as your thoughts turned to the soldier who had occupied your thoughts over the last week.

You remember Natasha telling you about Bucky before you met him; about how he was gruff, grumpy, and dealing with an intense load of PTSD from the service. Apparently, he was still able to go through the motions of life, but Nat said it often felt like he was waiting to make his departure when they would hang out.

Reconciling that version of Bucky with the warm, thoughtful, and deeply feeling man you had come to know wasn’t as hard as you thought it might be. After he opened himself up last night, you knew that if you continued chasing whatever feeling was blooming between you there would come a moment when you would have to deal with his “baggage” as he put it.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation when you jumped in last night and there was no feeling of dread hanging over you now. You knew that your relationship wouldn’t remain in this rose-tinted affection stage, but after seeing just a few parts of him, you knew you weren’t going to leave him unless he wanted you to. You wanted to stick around for the hard nights and days, you wanted to be there when he was feeling grumpy, and you wanted to be there for whatever came next.

You lifted one of your arms off of your eyes and looked around, seeing the boys continue to toss the football at one another, trying to make the others fall or fumble in the process of diving for the ball. Bucky had a relaxed air about him and Steve and Sam were all smiles. The sight made you feel warm and content on the inside.

“He told me about what happened to him while he was serving,” you said after a moment. A gasp was heard next to you and you turned your head to see Wanda looking at you with surprise and Natasha lifting an eyebrow. “I can’t begin to understand what he went through, but I know that it’s not something that will make me turn away from this. He’s been so strong by himself for so long and last night I could see just how tired he was.”

Wanda’s eyes began to water and Natasha’s lips slowly curved into a smile.

“It almost felt like he was trying to scare me off, but he seemed like he needed me to understand more than anything,” you continued. “I told him I wasn’t going anywhere and that I wanted to help carry the weight of his past. I think that really put things in perspective for him and after that, we committed to seeing where this thing goes.”

“That’s so beautiful,” Wanda said, her Sokovian accent seeping into her words as she was overcome with emotion for her friend. “It’s like something out of a romance novel.”

It did sound like something out of a romance, but it was really happening to you. Life was funny like that sometimes. Less than six months ago, you were stuck at a dead-end job, withering away, and wishing for a change. Now, you had a savings account that was growing slowly but surely, you were on vacation with your friends, and you had met someone who fit so naturally into your life.

“I think it’s better than a romance novel,” Natasha chimed in before turning over to tan her back. Wanda smiled in agreement before doing the same.

You stayed on your back, feeling the sun beat down on your face and body while you tried to remain in the present. You didn’t need to think about the future with Bucky because that would just put you in your head and you wanted to be here, in the present, where you could enjoy every moment for what it truly was.

After a few minutes, you flipped over and reached behind you to untie your top so your back could tan evenly. You floated off into a light slumber as the sun warmed you. There were no thoughts on your mind other than the sound of the ocean waves and the sound of other beach goers a little further down the beach from you.

You had lost track of how long you were on your tummy when you were woken by cold water dripping on your back. Your head shot up and you looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. As you went to turn on your back, a pair of hands, one cold and one warm, halted your movements.

“You’re going to flash the whole beach if you move, sweetheart,” a familiar voice cooed as you felt deft fingers grab the strings of your top and tie them together. “And I’d prefer if you kept the sight just for me.”

You turned over and saw Bucky hovering above you. His hair was dripping sea water on you and running down his neck and torso, making him look irresistible. His smile revealed his white teeth and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to have them sink into your flesh.

“Are you assuming you are going to see me topless sometime soon?” you playfully questioned.

“If I play my cards right, I’m betting on it,” he answered as he looked down at you. His eyes strayed from yours and wandered down to your chest before coming back up to stop at your lips.

“Why are you wet?” you asked, knowing it had something to do with the ocean in front of you.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

The smirk that took over his features was devastating for your heart. You pushed at his shoulder and he moved back, sitting up at the end of your towel. You followed suit and sat up, looking at him as you waited for an answer.

“Sam threw the football into the water and Steve pushed me in to go get it,” he said.

You laughed before thinking of his arm. “Wait, can your prosthetic get wet?”

He gave you a shy smile before nodding his head. “Yeah, it’s waterproof which is really nice.” His eyebrows wiggled on his forehead and you rolled your eyes at the implication. “You going to join me in the water?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. That’s the fish and shark’s home, I don’t need to invite myself in.”

Bucky threw his head back in laughter and you could see the look of boyish joy temporarily take over his features before he controlled himself and looked back down at you.

“That is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard someone say about the ocean,” he commented. “But don’t worry, I’ll be there to defend you even if it’s in their house.”

“Think about it! I hate seeing bugs in my apartment. Their house is outside, where they belong, so the same goes for ocean life. I don’t need to go inside their house to appreciate it,” you said.

Bucky shook his head and stood up, pulling you up with him. Once you were both standing, he started to walk backwards towards the ocean, tugging your hand so you would follow him. “But the water is so nice, I want you to come in with me.”

“You just want an excuse to feel me cling to you in the water,” you said as you stared at him with a knowing look.

“Guilty,” he said before bending down and throwing you over his shoulder. You screamed and pounded your fists on his back, laughing even though you wanted to be put down. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. The fish told me you were invited.”

The moment the water hit your feet and legs, you shivered, getting used to the colder temperature. Bucky continued to wade out into the ocean with you over his shoulder, only pulling you down his body once the water was up to his waist. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands clung to his shoulder. His hands wound around your body, one under your bottom and the other around your back as he continued to walk further into the waves.

He came to a stop once the water was almost over your shoulders. You could feel his hands squeezing your body in reassurance which caused you to relax a bit in his hold. You looked over his shoulder to see the rest of your friends also in the water, but a little further down the shoreline. They were playing chicken and from the looks of it, Sam and Wanda were winning.

“You know,” Bucky started, drawing your attention back to him. “We were rudely interrupted this morning.”

You tried to keep your face neutral, fighting the smile that wanted to spread across your face. “Oh, really? I can’t seem to remember what it was we were doing…” you trailed off, pretending you were forgetful of the almost kiss between you two.

With a pinch to your bottom, you squealed and pushed your body closer to his body and further from his hands.

“I’d be more than happy to remind you,” he teased as he leaned into your space. Your noses brushed as you rested your foreheads against each other. After a moment, he angled his head so he could better reach your lips with his. At the slight brush of his lips to yours, you tensed in anticipation. Bucky searched your eyes with his for any signs you didn’t want him to be in your space, but he found none.

Finally, after dreaming of this moment since you met him, your lips met in a tender kiss and your body surrendered to the affection. His lips were slightly chapped, but the kiss was no less sensational because of it. He pulled away, but the distance was short lived as you surged forward to capture his lips once again.

This kiss was less tender, but still just as sweet. Your lips molded to the shape of his bottom lip and he groaned as he felt the scrape of your teeth against the soft flesh. You used the opportunity to sneak the wet muscle of your tongue into his mouth, much to his surprise. Just as the kiss began to intensify, so did the grip that you had on each other. Your legs clenched around him, pulling his hips to yours as his arm around your back pulled you flush to his chest and his fingers spanned the expanse of your skin.

Shortly after your tongue made its way into his mouth, his barged into your mouth and stroked itself against yours, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat. Your hands slid from the tops of his shoulders into the hair at the nape of his neck, manipulating the angle of his head so you could deepen the kiss. Bucky’s hips bucked into yours roughly at the feeling of your fingers and your control.

You pulled apart with a gasp, glancing between his features as his eyes remained closed in bliss. The smile on your face couldn’t be wiped away as you remained in his arms and brushed the tips of your noses together.

“Woah,” he said after a minute, opening his eyes to look at you.

You giggled and nodded your head in agreement. “That was...”

“Amazing,” he filled in.

You leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss before pulling back just to see your friends frozen in the water, staring at the two of you with mixed expressions of entertainment and disgust.

“Don’t look now, but we have an audience,” you said.

Bucky groaned in embarrassment and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You laughed and buried your head in his neck, too, enjoying the closeness of your embrace. The two of you remained like that, wrapped around each other and sharing kisses every now and then, for a while before you convinced Bucky to take you back to the sand.

As the two of you stepped out of the waves and headed for the towels still stretched out on the sand, you saw the rest of your group throwing a frisbee back and forth, enjoying themselves.

When you reached the towel, you stopped in your tracks, causing Bucky to bump into your back and halt his movements.

“What is it?” he asked, concerned when you had stopped and remained silent.

You pointed down to the sand where a giant heart was drawn with your initials and Bucky’s inside with “4ever” written under them. You knew this had to be the work of Natasha or Sam, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart soar at the elementary display of feelings.

“How childish,” Bucky muttered. When you looked back at him, he had a smile on his face, betraying how he truly felt about the sand art. You gave him a smile and a peck to his cheek before you laid down on your towel once more, letting the sun dry the water from your body. Bucky flopped down on Wanda’s towel next to yours and propped himself up on his elbows to look at you.

You extended your hand and trailed your fingertips over his bicep, watching as goosebumps rose in the wake of your touch. You were content to sit in the silence with him as you soaked up the sun once again.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy.

You never wanted this feeling to end.

next | masterlist

You mumble something indistinguishable. A half hearted resistance, a misplaced question.

“I was worried about you,” he breathes out. There’s a shuffle and your bag is out of your hands. He finds your keys, holds your back against the warm, warm leather of his jacket.

“Why didn’t you call me? I told you to call me.”

You can’t answer. You feel yourself leaning against the only piece of warmth in the entire frigid world. You feel grateful. You feel—feel

You can’t name it.

He helps you to your living room. You bleakly listen to the sound of utensils clinking against each other. Bleakly realise that he remembered the date of your visit to your father’s. You told him a week ago—mentioned, really. In passing. In the quiet and helpless embarrassment that ensnares your throat whenever you think of your family, the shallow pool of resentment you submerged from. 

There was no reason for him to remember it. But he did. And even though you know that your heart shouldn’t jump at the thought, shouldn’t burn… it does.

Because Valarr Targaryen isn’t anything if not a contradiction. He isn’t anything if not a force of nature—too bright to ignore. Too beautiful to not love.

You sit straighter. Your lips are parched. The memory of your father in soiled gray robes juxtaposes with the warm blue light of your living room. He had grunted at you, barely remembered you except for a fleeting pat on your back. You hadn’t realised how much you were ignoring that pang in your chest. How desperately you were trying to forget that your entire life is a contradiction. That you are always stumbling back to your past instead of running away from it. Your ears start ringing as you watch Valarr re-emerge from your kitchen counter with a mug of steaming hot chocolate. Your lips tremble.

“You don’t have to… I’m not fragile,” you say weakly as he crouches in front of you.

“You are not.” In your haze, you think he says another word.

“I’m not lovely either.”

“Well,” he licks his lips. “You are, darling.”

And you already know what’s going to happen. The movement—or better, no, no worse —the tremor of the moments—inevitable, inescapable moments—sliding and colliding on top of each other and making a messy, erratic picture of the future that shouldn’t make sense by any conceivable reason. But somehow it does. It does make sense, you think, surprised by your own thoughts. By the coiling, surefooted intensity of it. Valarr leans forward and you freeze on your spot, unable to move, unable to make yourself want to move. And he touches your shoulder to brush away a strand of hair. In your blurred vision, his eyes are not just blue and brown—they are all the colours, every last one of them. They are infinite and they are drowning you. You sway to him, your movement jerky and fragile but sure. You are sure what you want and you are sure in the banality of it all how it makes you mad— your blood simmers and your knees shake and your heart an aching, pumping fist. You give in to your instincts, the paltry surrender that never feels like a defeat.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

You remember the dream, though.

____________________

Somehow everything gets worse in the morning.

Perhaprs it’s the raging headache, or how the morning sun sheds a particularly ruthless light at everything in your life. You wake up in your bed, head pressed in deperately to your pillow. And for a moment you just lay there, feeling the slight scratch of your cheap cotton sheets, smell the familiar scent—detergent, orange blossoms, and the remarkably stark smell of amber. Valarr’s perfume. You can hear someone moving about your apartment. You close you eyes and imagine him in the kitchen. Shirtless, in the pair of grey trousers that are now always found in one trecherous side of your wardrobe. You move a little, in your bed, and realise that you’re wearing your pajamas. 

The fact that he’s changed your clothes while you were babbling, nauseaous, near-high with familial toxins taps at something deep and shameful inside you. Silently, you get out of your room and into your kitchen. And you are right. Valarr is in your kitchen. Shirtless, in his grey trousers. He has his headphones on and for a blissful minute you watch him, unaware. The golden light pours into the muscles of his back, the light catches his hair—the silver strand, that deep chocolate, all of it—and you almost can’t breathe. 

Valarr senses your presence and turns back. He smiles at you—soft, wondrous, and motions you to sit.

You do.

You sit on the chair and you flex your fingers to see if they work, if the hangover has been dusted off from your joints. You feel no joy to see that they do. As you are busy trying to move every one of your joints, you see him working on the counter out of the corner of your eyes. Clatters of plates, pots and glasses. Smells something savory and then sweet. After what it feels like hours, Valarr places a mug on the table and sits on the chair next to you.

You look down at the steaming mug. Hot chocolate.

Exactly what you craved.

You place your palms on either side of the mug, feel the heat seeping into your numbness and feel something similar to being grateful. The hangover is starting to wear off, then. That means you can feel gratitude and an amplitude of other things. You drink, turning over thoughts in your head. You look up from the mug only after you’ve finished half of the contents, and find Valarr looking at you with a mixture of tenderness and something that aches. Something you don’t have the word to describe.

He has been exceptionally silent this entire time. Since the night. You can feel tenderness in that too.

You get a glimpse of the shadow-future you saw last night in your dream.

But other thoughts are in your head, picking at the gray matters of your brain, the white fibers inside them are passing mean, broken words. You put your palm around the mug again, then slide it until it’s on the edge of the table. Slide it further. When the glass drops, then you realizes how you’re really feeling. How any of this mess feels like.

The words don’t fully form inside your head until you dish them out, and it’s cold, colder than the waters at your home, colder than your father’s godforsaken stare. You put your palm over your eyes and a sour laugh gets stuck at your throat. Your hands still haven’t warmed up.

You say, “Why are you so nice to me?” And in another world this would sound nice, this would sound lovely, coaxing, like a soft hum to a beloved. But the way you say it comes out flat and ruthless, like a man succumbing to his impending death. Like a man who’s already dead. 

You can’t see his expression, but you improvise on his silence. He’s not sure how to answer. Alright. Understandable. You will wait a few seconds and then—

“I don’t understand where you would want to go from there,” Valarr says finally.

“Wherever the tide takes us, love. I’m not prancing around this - us, any longer. Why are you here? Why are you making me fucking hot chocolate?”

“Because - I - I want to.” 

“You asked me why I didn’t call you,” you say silently. And the steely calm in your words scare you. You move your palms from your eyes and look straight at him. “Why would I call you?”

Valarr’s jaw clenches. You see the bend in his lips, the slight ripple in his muscles there that’s always fascinated you, pulled you into the grip of him. It angers you now. The sight of him—beautiful, defensive, real—makes you feral.

“Why would I want you to see my father, or my home, or any part of my past when you know it all embarrases me?”

“I thought we were past that.”

“We are never going to be past that.” You scoff. “Do you really not know why I was at the outside of things at school? Do you really not know that I was never invited to anything? Actually—no.” You twist your lips. “You invited me. Out of pity, or whatever. You invited everyone to your parties, but I couldn’t really go, could I? You know the rules. Everyone knows the rules.

“Your kind and my kind are always going to be on either end of things. Society. Culture. Whatever. We can’t always name it. We just know.”

He bristles. “I don’t think—”

“I’m not really ashamed of where I came from,” you say, and the words grip your throat. “But being with you, here… it makes me forget that. I don’t want that. I hate that I’d look at my home and I’d compare it to Kiera’s or… Jeyne’s… or whichever heiress is seen with you outside their family homes.”

“That’s just… It’s just optics. I told you,” he says, and you hear the shame palpable in his voice. “I botched a meeting with the Tyrosh Corp. and my uncle wanted me to…”

“To uphold the family name, yes,” you deadpan. “Will you sleep with her to save the account, too?”

Silence. When you finally look at him, he is almost like a marble statue. You see his mismatched eyes stare at you with careful consideration, and you hate him. You want him to answer your bitter questions with the same amount of acidity. So something of your rage would be justified. So you can both scream and you can finally convince yourself that this is a broken, broken thing. And that there’s no use. You are bad for each other. You wait for Valarr to realize you’re unsuitable for him in every conceivable way.

But when he finally speaks, it’s calm—calm enough. “Darling, you need to rest. Take a day off, let’s get to bed. You’ll feel better later, I promise.”

And god is it worse.

“ No.” It comes out like a hiss. He doesn’t budge at your voice, doesn’t recoil in distrust. “Go away,” you say again, deadlier. “Go away, Valarr. I don’t want you here.” Then, “I don’t want you at all.”

And it hurts him, you know it does. Because that’s the thing he fears, right? That’s what you have patched together after spending irreversible time with him these few months. He’s scared of his own needs. He is scared of tainting someone with his needs. If someone sees how desperately he is holding on for dear life, that he isn’t the heir his father tried to build, how his hands still shake in a meeting room, how if he wakes up in the dark he is terrified that he’ll see his father get murdered again, they will turn away, they will see he isn’t a perfect prince at all. Just an angry boy with a dead dad. Then they’d leave. 

You know all of these, and these were facts you learned in the privilege of knowing him. And these are weapons you use against him in your spite.

“This isn't a relationship,” you hear yourself say. “I—I am a social climber from a working class fucking neighbourhood. And I will always be. Do you know how much I hated all your friends? Do you think I don’t know that none of them know me? That you have never mentioned me to anyone else? If we bumped into your friend Daemon Velaryon, do you think he’ll know me? That you spend more nights in my bed than yours?”

His silence is almost as painful as the truth. You feel tears prick at your eyes. “I thought so. So this is ridiculous. The idea of you and me. And this—” you gesture your hand to the empty, cold air between you. “Whatever you want from me, I can’t give anymore.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he says, there is an edge to his voice. A tightness. Good.

“Of course you do.” You scoff. “You want to fuck me.”

God, it is a dirty word. And you use this too.

“It’s always intense, right? When we fuck? Wasn’t it the first time you felt that someone gets you? Under that—that fucking facade? Well, I’ll tell you what happened, you were drunk. I was drunk. You lost your dad and I was the only piece of the past that you could stomach at the moment. I let you fuck me and mess with me because I had a crush on you for fucking forever. There it goes. That’s the connection you think you have with me. It’s just timing. Just bad fucking luck… And I can’t—- don’t have enough of myself to give to you. I’m a lost cause. And you’re just being ridiculous.”

It's dead silence in the room. Nothing moves. You feel your pulse thicken, heart at your throat, as your words are soaked through the air. Valarr's eyes are red, lips pressed in a thin, contemptuous line that makes your ribs burn.

After a millennia, Valarr calls you by your name. And something about hearing him say it… makes you feral. You almost fume. “Don’t leave,” he says, pleads in a rough, broken voice. “I can’t… I don’t have anything to say for me. I know I don’t deserve… but—” He gulps. “Please.”

You think you want to laugh but a cry breaks from your throat. You talk through the warm tears, unflinched, feeling your breaths go heavier anyway. 

“I don’t think it’s good for us to pretend that we - that this is anything—that I am someone—that we…” You lose your chain of thoughts altogether. “Fuck. Fuck this fuck all of it fuck you. Just go away. Just go go get the fuck away from my apartment.” 

You hiccup and try to stand. Your vision is blurry from tears and your own zagged mind. When you see Valarr his expression is helpless, vicious in his torture. His eyes have that wild look when he gets up from a nightmare. His hands are fisted over the table and when he turns to her you see a plea, a scream, and you want to… you still want to…

I’m going, you tell yourself. This is done.

But then. Your head swirls again and you feel yourself falling over. Dizzily, you touch the back of the chair you were sitting in. You stand for a cold five seconds before you hear the squawk of the chair. You look ahead at nothing when he takes your hand. But then your knees buckle, so he puts it around your shoulder to steady you and take you to your bedroom.

You have no strength left in you, not even to decline Valarr when he takes you to your bed. You collapse on the bed, your entire body one incompetent pile of nerves. You hear him walking around, fumbling through your things. You hear a clink of a glass beside you. Then he moves you up again, his hand tender and strong, to your pillow. You feel the heat of him replaced with the duvet he spreads over you. His palm linger over your head for a second, before he sighs and moves away. When you hear the almost unintelligible pop of the door being locked, the tears come again. You realize you smell of him and the cries hollowed out of you are vicious, ruthless, a force of nature. Almost as strong as your love for him.

The room is colder and darker, and it swallows you whole.

_______________________

valarr is an idiot and reader is an idiot,, together they make an idiot sandwich with angst on the side

more of my akotsk stories

the sand is still warm under your bare feet, the sea whispering gently like it knows something is about to end. you spot him from afar.

he’s already there, sitting where he always sits, elbows on his knees, staring at the horizon like he’s trying to memorize it. or maybe trying not to think at all.

you walk toward him slowly, your white dress moving with the wind, light and simple, just like every evening you spent together here.

he looks up when he hears you.

for a second, something flickers in his eyes, something soft, but it’s gone just as quickly.

“you’re late,” he says quietly.

you shrug, sitting beside him, close enough for your shoulders to brush. “you’re early.”

a small silence settles between you, heavier than usual. the kind that presses against your chest and you both know why. it’s his last night.

tomorrow, he leaves for munich. back to his life, back to everything that doesn’t include you. you dig your fingers into the sand, trying to stay grounded.

“so… this is it,” you murmur.

he nods, not looking at you. “yeah. early flight.”

the waves crash a little louder this time, like they’re trying to fill the space you can’t. he exhales.

“look,” he starts, his voice lower, almost careful. “i think… it’s better if we’re clear about this.”

your stomach tightens instantly. you already know where this is going but you let him speak anyway.

“this summer… it was nice,” he says. “really nice. but that’s all it was. just… a summer thing.”

the words land softly, too softly like they were rehearsed. you turn your head to look at him, studying his profile, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands are clenched together.

he’s lying or at least not telling the whole truth.

you force a small smile. “a summer thing.”

“yeah. nothing more.”

nothing more.

the words echo in your head, louder than the waves now. you swallow, trying to ignore the sting building behind your eyes.

“so when you’re in munich…” you start, your voice betraying you slightly, “we just… what? pretend we never met?”

“i think it’s better,” he says finally. “no calls, no messages. it just… makes things complicated.”

complicated?

you almost laugh, instead, your throat tightens.

“right,” you whisper. “wouldn’t want that.”

he finally looks at you and everything cracks. his eyes don’t match his words. they’re softer, conflicted, almost regretful, and that’s what breaks you because if he didn’t care, this would be easier.

you look away quickly, blinking fast, but it’s useless.

the tears come anyway.

one slips down your cheek. you wipe it away, embarrassed, turning slightly so he won’t see but he already has.

“hey…” he murmurs, shifting closer. “don’t—”

“don’t what?” you cut in, your voice trembling now. “don’t cry over something that was ‘nothing’?”

he goes quiet and you let out a shaky breath, hugging yourself as the wind picks up.

“i tried to believe that,” you admit softly. “i really did. i told myself it was just the sun, the sea, the timing… that it wasn’t real.” your voice cracks. “but you don’t look at someone like that if it’s not real.”

he doesn’t answer and somehow, that hurts even more. you turn to him again, tears falling freely now.

“tell me i’m wrong,” you whisper. “tell me this meant nothing to you.”

he opens his mouth then closes it. your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. you nod slowly, even though it physically hurts.

“okay,” you say, your voice barely audible. “i get it.”

you don’t, not really, but you say it anyway because he’s already leaving and he’s already letting go.

you stand up, brushing the sand off your dress, your hands shaking. he stands too, instinctively.

“you don’t have to go,” he says, almost reflexively.

you let out a small, broken laugh.

“i think i do.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the distance between you feels wider than the ocean now, then you step back.

“have a good life in munich, michael.”

his name lingers between you like something unfinished. he looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t, so you turn around and walk away.