#the wind

"Oh, don't worry about 'er, she's just underfoot — Alpine, git."

Wild horses would not sooner rip the feline from her weld on the floor in the center of the doorway, tail twitching with almost suspect air as she considers her, standing in in front of the door to what, once, kept the blush of her date's apartment from view.

Blinking once at the nearly sparkling white of the animal's coat, her eyes don't break from Alpine watching her carefully as Bucky tugs her a little closer, under his arm. In an embrace that's warm, and slightly electric.

They're supposed to share drinks over Nintendo, that was the deal. Drinks and Mario, he was supposed to break her record.

Except for Alpine. The cat doesn't budge, instead her eyes squint, almost subjectively. Like she's reading her body language, sizing her up beneath her master's arm. Brushing against Bucky's side, his hand in her hair is light, magnificent. Promising as he leans in to brush his nose against the apple of her cheek, smiling softly against her makeup and warmth.

She smiles when he gently angles her head, chin between his fingers, into a slow, warm kiss that tastes like an hour ago's beer and appetizers, like musk and everything she's ever dreamed of. Her chest flies with appreciation as he takes her hand, tries guiding her into the apartment.

Past the doorway, wedge heels on the mat. Her purse by the door, slowly slinking out of the evening's denim jacket that's become too hot. But not past the troll at the proverbial bridge of James' inner sanctum, Alpine.

Tripping over the cat, Alpine lets out a squawk of protest before skittering away beneath Bucky's feet. Muttering under his breath, she tries not to smile into his chest, burying her face in amusement as blush creeps up her neck.

"Damn cat," James huffs and rolls his eyes, but it's all too affectionate. Too amused to be genuine.

"She’s just protective," she giggles, wiggling her fingers in a hello wave to the snowy fur that has now donned her throne beside the stove, perched perfectly on the edge of the counter. Tail twitching, licking at a paw. "My brother has a cat, Oliver. He took four days getting used of me when I came home from college. It's a delicate tango, cat and woman."

He looks appreciative, scowling at his companion before accepting her jacket. Bucky drapes it over the lone chair at the table, hand still in hers as she contemplates the room from the worn, slightly crooked doormat.

Alpine reaches out to swat at them as Bucky guides her into the kitchen, encouraging her into the corner of the counter to box her in for a slow, demanding kiss.

She can feel Alpine pawing at her hand as she grabs at the waist of his shirt, knuckles brushing against the warmth of carved abs, hard flesh.

Alpine lets out a low growl, gravelly and hard, as if this is a great offense to her character. Spitting out a little hiss, Bucky whirls on his companion quickly, shooing her off with a flapping hand and a growl of his own. Face flushed, he turns back to her again, fingers carding through her curls effortlessly, trying to find purchase back into their moment.

"Be nice," she inserts quickly, biting the corner of her lower lips, "she's just jealous. Not all that different from someone else I know," brushing her nose against his, she giggles into their shared kiss again, "I love her already, Buck," nails skipping through his facial hair, her nose scrunches playfully, "maybe more than I love you — jury's out, though."

"That right, doll?"