#writingbucky

Wanda had lead you and Natasha to the couches nearest the balcony, and farthest from the speaker. You watched the city lights through the glass wall, listening as Natasha told you and Wanda about the most recent night she had spent with Sam. Wanda was leaning against the arm rest next to you, braiding your hair.

"He is staring at her again," Wanda said as Natasha paused to finish the drink in her hand.

Laughing quietly, you dipped your head to hide your blush. "He's probably staring at Nattie. The two of them have a past together, don't they?"

"Not the sort of past that leads to looks like that." Natasha took the glass from your hand, taking a sip before you managed to steal it back.

You risked glancing up at Bucky, the red in your cheeks beginning to fade. He was leaning against the bar, talking to Steve. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and he held an empty whiskey glass in his hand. Shaking your head, you struggled to clear away the distraction of Bucky. "What the hell is in this drink, Wanda?"

"I am not actually sure," she admitted. "Pietro gave it to me, one for each of us."

"Whatever it is, it's really fucking alcoholic and really fucking good," Natasha said, reaching for your drink again before you pulled away. "Maybe if we get her to drink enough she'll dance on a table and Bucky won't be able to resist."

The sun had only risen an hour before, but you were already exhausted.

Natasha had insisted on early morning sparring and so you'd been awake for three hours and hadn't yet had breakfast. She'd gone back to bed after you'd won, but you were too hungry. You had managed to drag yourself to kitchen and stood in front of stove, pushing eggs around in your pan with your eyes closed.

"You doin' okay?"

The voice surprised you and you jumped, flinging the pan – and your breakfast – onto the floor, with a loud curse. "What the hell are you doing awake?" you asked, the adrenaline now rushing through your body waking you up. "And what the hell are you doing making me ruin my breakfast?"

"You, uh," Bucky started, trying not to laugh as you bent down to gather up the surprisingly dark scrambled eggs. "The eggs were burned when I got here. Are you sure you're awake?"

"Not even close," you admitted. "Natasha wanted to spar." You carried the refilled pan to the trash and reluctantly threw away the burnt eggs.

Bucky took the pan from your hands as you returned to the stove. "Why don't you make two of those smoothies I love and I'll cook pancakes? Having you near a hot stove right now isn't the best idea."

"And the sharp spinning thing is better?"

He set his hand on your waist for a moment. "I have faith in you."

"What happened to you?" Helen Cho asked, carefully poking at your ankle while you struggled not to pull away from her probing fingers.

"She was an idiot," Wanda answered for you and you rolled your eyes.

"I was not an idiot," you defended yourself, lying back on the table. "I was doing my job."

"Stupidly," Pietro added, and you glared at him, flinching as Helen prodded at you.

"Did you keep walking on it after you stupidly did your job?" Helen asked.

"It didn't swell up until we were back on the quinjet," you defended yourself. "I didn't even realize I was hurt."

"You're lucky it's just a sprain," Helen told you, turning away from you and opening the drawer behind her before turning back to you. "I'll wrap it and you can be on your way. Just take it easy the next few days."

You began to nod your appreciation, but rapid footsteps in the hallway and two voices arguing lowly caught the attention of all four people in the room. Moments later, Bucky and Steve rounded the corner, the first looking terrified and the second exasperated. "She's fine! You're fine, aren't you, (Y/n)?" Steve argued with Bucky.

"Just a sprain."

Bucky sat on the examination table beside you, setting a hand on your knee as he carefully prodded the ankle Helen had managed to finish wrapping. "Please keep it that way."

The smell of popcorn tempted you from your room, despite the baggy sweats and loose pajama shirt you wore.

Movie night was an event at the complex. Pepper had bought Tony a popcorn machine for one a birthday – or anniversary, you hadn't been paying attention – and he turned it on hours before the team gathered. Couches were dragged into movie theater rows. A projector was set up behind them, and the entire wall used as the screen. Bruce had installed surround sound after the first week. There was even an official rotation of who got to choose the movie.

Everyone had already gathered in the room, and it was obvious you'd missed the decision announcement. Bucky stood at the back of the room, his hand on the last couch in the row and he smiled at you as you walked toward him. "Join me?" He walked around the front of the couch and sat down, covering himself in a blanket.

"At the back? Don't you usually sit up front?"

He laughed and nodded. "Tony picked the movie. He picked It. I know you hate scary movies."

You nodded, and almost turned back to your room. "That's why you choose the back?"

"I figured you could hide behind me during the worst parts." He held up a corner of the blanket and you laughed, joining him beneath the blanket. "How bad can it really be?"

Fingers found your waist in the dark, the metal cold against your skin as the movement shifted your shirt. His hand tightened around your side, tentatively pulling you closer to him. You lifted your hands, resting your hands on his hips and loosely holding his shirt in your hands. Heavy breathing filled the small closet. He pressed his nose to your cheek, bringing your lips closer to his. Trails of warmth followed his touch as his fingers brushed against your thigh before slipping past the hem of your shirt and resting at the small of your back.

His shirt slipped between your fingers as you traced up his chest. Your sharp breath brought you closer to him and you felt a ghost of his lips against yours. He dipped his head, nose knocking against yours, and kissed you cautiously. You chased him when he began to pull away and stepped closer as he brought his lips back to yours. A shiver ran down your spine as his left hand dragged up your side, bringing your shirt halfway before letting it fall back down.

He stepped closer and you felt the wall behind you. His right hand slid up your back and pressed between your shoulder blades until your body was flush against his, your hands trapped between you. "You drive me crazy," he breathed.

Tilting your head, you continued to stare until Natasha’s hand on your thigh sent shock waves through your body. Turning to face her as the adrenaline faded from your veins, you smiled innocently. “Did I miss my cue?” you asked. “Was it my turn to comment on your boyfriend’s unwavering chivalry?”

“No, but you were staring at Barnes again,” she teased, and you shook your head at her implications. “One of these days, he’s going to catch you.”

“I am not so sure he would mind.” Wanda cut in and you glared at her playfully. 

“He just seems lonely!” you defended yourself, standing from where you had been leaning against the armrest of Natasha’s chair. “No one should be lonely at one of Tony’s parties.” You ignored their continued taunts as you walked away, waving over your shoulder and calmly taking a sip of your drink.

Although Pepper had forced Tony to keep the guest list to a minimum, the room was still full of strangers. You weaved around them, watching Bucky the whole time. He smiled when you waved and turned to face you when you reached his side. “Do you always dress up for these things?” he asked, and you laughed.

Wanda had loaned you the loose green dress after you’d complimented the color the day she had bought it, and insisted that you never return it. The heels had been a gift from Tony, and in them you could almost look Bucky in the eyes. Bucky, on the other hand, wore jeans and an old red shirt that didn’t quite fit him anymore. “As a matter of fact, Sarge,” you said, leaning against the bar as you spoke, “I do. I love a good excuse to wear a pretty dress.”

“It’s a good thing you wear a pretty dress well, then,” he answered, a teasing smirk on his face, and you laughed again. Bucky was one of your closest friends and, in moments like these, you believed that perhaps you were one of his. He teased you the way he teased Steve.

“Teach me how to dance, Sarge?” you asked, resting your hand on his right arm, knowing he was uncomfortable when you touched his left.

“Not tonight, sunshine,” he said quietly, setting his drink on the bar and pushing off it to walk away from you.

Steve laughed as he joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Keep asking,” he said. “He’ll say yes one of these nights, sunshine.”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted your drink and tapped it against his. “I don’t plan on stopping, Steve.”

Exhaustion weighed down your body as you dragged yourself from your room. Your body ached for sleep, but the lingering dark images swirling through your thoughts after the mission kept you awake. You dragged your fingers across the back of the couch, grabbing a blanket as your hand passed over it. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said quietly, stifling a yawn. “Pull up the movie library for me?”

“Yes, Miss. Would you like to restart the movie you began this morning?” Her mechanical voice brought solace with it. You were home.

Happiness fluttered dully in your chest as you thought back to the moments before the mission, and the movie you had started. “I would love that, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you answered, settling into the corner of the couch and wrapping the blanket tightly around you. The day had left a chill in your bones that had nothing to do with the cold. Your eyes were closed when the movie began, and the familiar music eased some of the tension from your sore muscles.

The desert had only just come in focus when shuffling feet pulled you attention away. Bruce shuffled into the room, pajamas askew and eyes unfocused. Screams echoed from the television and his eyes snapped to a you, a weak smile replacing the worry almost immediately. “Good movie,” he said, nodding toward the screen and you laughed softly.

“Care to join?” His smile grew stronger as he came and sat in the armchair nearest you, slowly relaxing as a lone man stumbled across the desert toward what he must have hoped was home. By the time he led the others back into the desert he had escaped two years before, the couches and chairs were full with pajama clad Avengers, and Dum-E was helping Tony carry bowls of popcorn from the kitchen.

“Stop trying to balance the tray and just hold it, dammit! If you drop the popcorn I’ll reprogram you to balance toilet paper,” Tony was mumbling as the robotic arm followed him from the kitchen. He passed the bowls of popcorn around, enough that each of you only needed to share with one person. Bucky sat beside you, and you didn’t protest when he took the bowl and set in on his lap.

It had surprised you when Bucky had sluggishly, but compliantly, left his room when you had sent him a message. He had settled onto the two person couch beside you, listening intently as you explained the little that had happened before he had joined you. His attention drifted between you and the movie as he asked quiet questions about characters, but it had been awhile since his last question when Tony handed out the bowls of popcorn.

A flash of light from Bucky’s phone grabbed your attention and pulled you eyes away from the screen. “Sarge!” you whispered, digging your elbow into his side. “Put your phone away! My favorite part is coming up.”

Bucky had sat close enough to you that you could feel his silent laughter and you fought a smile. “Your favorite part, sunshine?” he asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“My favorite part,” you reinforced, emphasizing each word. “Are you ready for it?” You turned your attention away from him and back to the movie playing on the screen. “Are you paying attention?” you asked, digging your fingers softly into his side as you asked.

He simply nodded and you fell silent, your hand stilling and resting gently against his side as the movie in front of you enthralled you. The two characters on screen were laughing together, the woman obviously drunk and the man trying to keep her steady as he taught her how to fight. She told him about her parents, their love story of adventure, and you mouthed the words along with her. It wasn’t a scene that was important to the plot, but it showed sides of each character that didn’t exist before and that was enough to capture you. Bucky watched you instead of the television, a small smile on his face as your eyes glowed in excitement and your mouth moved with silent words.

Dull warmth from the little sunlight that snuck through your curtains pulled you gently from sleep. You stretched your arms above your head, reluctantly happy that Steve had pulled you from your most recent mission when sparring with Natasha had left you with a bruised rib. Lazily crawling from bed, you pulled a sweatshirt over your head and left the comfort of your room. Wandering toward the kitchen, you searched through the emails on your phone. Your friend had gone to pastry school, and she sent you a recipe to make individual cinnamon rolls.

“Doubling the recipe won’t be hard,” you mumbled to yourself as you searched through the kitchen for the sugar. The organization of the kitchen made sense to Tony, but not many others. Although it took longer than you had expected, you eventually gathered all the ingredients on the counter and began to follow your friend’s directions carefully. She had warned you it was easy to miss steps.

Music played quietly through the kitchen after requesting that F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn it on for you, and you sang quietly as you slid the two medium sized cinnamon rolls into the oven. Crossing the kitchen, you set a timer on your phone and sat down at the breakfast bar to wait. The sun had risen higher and the kitchen was growing warmer, despite Tony’s horrific attempts to keep the entire building freezing. Footsteps pulled your attention away from the game on your phone and a soft smile pulled at your lips.

“Are you wearing my sweatshirt?” Bucky asked, brushing his hand over your shoulder as he walked passed you and into the kitchen. He took the kettle from the stove and filled it with water.

Setting your phone on the counter, you watched as he pulled two mugs from the cupboard and sifted through the dozens of bags of coffee until he found the one you liked. “If you didn’t want me to wear it, you shouldn’t have left it in my room,” you answered as the water began to boil. He laughed, but didn’t answer as he poured the grounds into the kettle. You lapsed into a comfortable silence, and you let your eyes drift closed as you listened to him move around the kitchen. The boiling kettle kept you from drifting to sleep, and you opened your eyes as he filled the two mugs with coffee.

Dozens of chairs and stools were scattered through the kitchen, but he sat on the stool next to you, the way he did every morning, and set the warm cup of coffee in front of you, the way he did every morning. “Sarge,” you began, not bothering to look at him as you took a sip of the coffee he’d bought you. “I had this absolutely wild dream last night.”

“Yeah?” You could hear the smile in his voice as he prompted you to continue.

“It was like this one scene out of my favorite movie from when I was little. We were at this haunted island resort – you and I were – and this crazy guy with head tattoos all over his head was talking about the monsters that had lived under the island for thousands of years.” The timer you’d set began to buzz and you stopped talking as you slid off your chair.

“What happened next, sunshine?” Bucky asked.

“We were at dinner listening to tattoo head play the piano when actual monsters broke through the floor and started kidnapping everyone!” Standing on your toes, you pulled two plates from the shelf. “Shit hit the fan, Sarge. It was almost as bad as Siberia.”

“Nothing could be as bad Siberia,” Bucky interrupted, and you laughed, remember the weekend in the bitter cold.

“I swear, Sarge,” you said, holding your hand over your heart after you opened the oven. “It was almost as bad as Siberia. Anyway,” you continued, crouching to pull the two cinnamon rolls from the oven, “these monsters started chasing us all over the resort and we ended up riding a laundry cart through a window to escape them!”

“How did we end up in a laundry cart?” he asked as you walked back to him, placing the second plate and cinnamon roll in front of him.

“No clue,” you said slowly, shaking your head and sitting down. His eyes narrowed and you scoffed. “It was a dream, Sarge! You should be proud of me for remembering as much as I did.”

He chuckled. “You said it was like a scene from one of your favorite movies?”

“The movie is completely cheesy,” you admitted, cutting apart the roll on your plate, “but I watched it over and over when I was in middle school.” You paused to take a bite and rolled your eyes in bliss. “We could watch it if you want?”

“That sounds like the perfect way to spend a day off.”

A cold breeze blew passed and you were grateful for the sweater you had grabbed before hiding on the balcony with your worn out journal. In New York, the air wasn’t fresh, but it wasn’t as stale as inside. The sun had begun to set and the night was growing colder when Steve joined you.

“I need your help,” he said. He collapsed into the chair across the table, face covered with defeat. Panic and worry shot through your veins before his words soothed it away. “Peg and I got into a fight and you need to help me fix things.”

“Get her some flowers, Steve,” you said, giggling quietly. “Peggy loved flowers back in high school. I even know the stand–”

“Flowers would take too long!” he interrupted you, anxiety flitting through his eyes. “I figure if I send her a sweet text now, and show up with dinner later, it’ll set things right.”

For a moment, you faltered. Although you had grown up with Peggy, heartfelt messages had never been your strength. “Well, uhm, isn’t your anniversary coming up? Say something about how having her in your life makes you better.” He looked at you hopefully and you stammered as you struggled to expand on your thought. “Without you by my side, uhm, New York wouldn’t be the same?”

“Is that the best you can do, sunshine?” Bucky’s voice surprised you and pulled your attention rapidly away from Steve. He was leaning against the doorframe, but took the open chair beside you after he spoke.

“Think you can do any better?” you retorted, regretting your words as soon as you did. Everyone had heard the stories of Steve’s teenage years with the shameful flirt James Buchanan Barnes

“What’s your favorite thing about Peggy?” Bucky asked, turning his attention to Steve instead of answering your question.

“Damn, Buck, I don’t know. I love everything about her.” Steve stared dreamily at his phone, clicking away from messages to look at the photograph of him and Peggy. “She’s everything to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, laughing quietly at his best friend. “That’s very sweet, but not helpful.” He sighed, pressing his lips together, and his eyes flickered to you before he returned his attention to Steve. “When I’m with you,” he began, eyes unfocused as he spoke, “eternity is trapped in each moment. Time passes too quickly and then not at all.”

You shifted in your seat, watching Bucky in amazement as he continued. “Sinatra would have never sung again had he heard your laugh,” a blissful smile crossed his lips, “because nothing could ever sound as sweet.” He ran his hands through the long hair at the base of his neck, shaking his head and biting his lip softly. Steve stared at his best friend, happiness behind his eyes as he saw flashes of the man he had lost all those years before.

“If your eyes shined as bright as the sun,” his voice had grown quiet, as if he was no longer speaking to Steve, and his eyes flickered to meet yours,  “I’d go blind just to look at them one last time.” He dropped his eyes as he finished speaking, but you continued to stare at him, unable to look away. Your thoughts were jumbled, struggling to connect the words you’d heard to the silent and sarcastic man you had grown so close to.

Steve broke the silence, his voice violently ripping you from your thoughts. “Been a few years since I’ve heard you talk like that,” he said, chuckling. “I have a feeling those words are meant for someone specific though. Doesn’t feel right to take them from you.” Bucky forced a grin onto his face, his eyes not quite focused and Steve turned his attention to you before he continued. “Flowers on the way home, right?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you said, clearing your throat in the hopes of finding your voice. “From the flower stand she likes in Central Park, not the corner market. The pink tulips are her favorites. I think they’re in season now.”

“How do you know Peggy’s favorite flowers?” Bucky asked. His eyes were focused again, filled with laughter as he asked. Steve nodded his thanks as he left the balcony, pointing toward Central Park as he did.

“Peggy is a good friend,” you said, your voice faltering for a moment before you continued. “She’s always been there. Everyone always seems to forget that I was the one that introduced the two of them.”

Embarrassment flashed across Bucky’s face and he hung his head for a moment. “Would a movie night be a sufficient apology for my forgetfulness?”

“It’s been a long week, and I’m pretty tired. Raincheck?” you asked, standing up and tucking your journal against your side. He nodded and you forced a smile onto your face. “Thanks Bucky,” you said as you walked back into the tower.

An uncomfortably loud alarm ripped Bucky from sleep and he groaned as he rolled over in bed. He never seemed to sleep long enough to feel rested. Dragging himself slowly from beneath his blankets, he blindly fumbled toward his dresser for a shirt, not yet willing to open his eyes. For a moment, he considered crawling back into bed and regret flickered through his thoughts as he remembered he had agreed to spar with Steve that morning.

Forcing himself to stand, he opened his eyes and walked from his room. You were the only one there when he reached the kitchen, buttered toast in front of you as you stared blankly at your phone. The game you played each morning was open, but you didn’t move to play it as he walked up behind you. “Morning, sunshine.” 

“Good morning,” you answered dully, eyes never leaving your phone. The kettle was in its place beside the sink and he filled it with water before setting it on the stove. He sorted through the bags of coffee, searching for the one you drank every morning. No one had put the dishes away the night before, and he opened the washer to grab two mugs. You didn’t speak to him as he made the coffee, but the silence didn’t bother him.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked softly as he sat down beside you, setting your coffee in front of you.

Warmth bloomed in his chest as he heard your voice, easing away the last of the sleep that clouded his mind. “Each night is better than the last. Did you?” He wanted to ask you what you had dreamed about, but it was never something he had done before. You always shared before he had the chance.

“My room was cold,” you answered him, wrapping your hands around the mug, “but I slept well enough.” You lifted the mug up, blowing on the coffee before taking a hesitant sip.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you stood before he had the chance. “It’s still cold,” you said quietly, “and I left my sweatshirt upstairs. I’m glad you slept well, Bucky.” A small smile crossed your face as you spoke, and he watched you walk away from him, his sweatshirt hanging loosely on your frame.

Familiar music played as he opened the door to the gym and excitement sparked in his chest. It had been several days since he’d seen you, jetlag forcing him into a schedule no sane agent kept. You were across the gym, lifting weights alone, the workout playlist you had designed months before playing through the speakers. Bucky crossed the room slowly, simply happy to be in the same place as you again. He had missed you.

“Looking for a spotter?” he asked and panic crossed your face for a moment before your eyes met his. Relief filled your eyes and you smiled up at him. Worries mingled in the back of his mind as the smile didn’t reach your eyes, but he forced them aside as you answered.

“A spotter would be nice,” you said. He moved to stand behind you as you lifted the bar above your head again. The days you spent together in the gym were filled with sarcastic retorts and your soft singing, but you were silent as he watched the bar in your hands. Your eyes seemed unfocused, and your movements robotic.

Silence between you was usually comfortable and peaceful, but today it set him on edge. He wanted nothing more than to hear you tell him about the dreams you had while he was away, or the movies he still needed to see. Your voice had become his comfort and solace, and it had been all he had wanted over the past days without you.

Bucky followed when you set the bar down, moving on to the next exercise in the cycle he often helped with. You didn’t offer to spot for him, but it didn’t come as surprise. After the only time he had agreed to let you try, everyone had decided that it was best he and Steve spotted each other. In the weeks after the unspoken incident, you had fallen into a routine. He would spot your lifting each day, and you would spar while he and Steve lifted weights. When they were done, you would run together.

An unbidden grin crossed his face when you finally spoke, but it faded as he heard your words. “I don’t think I’ll finish the rest today, but thank you for spotting me.”

“It’s been a few weeks since we’ve done the Central Park route, sunshine. Give me an hour?” He didn’t try to hide the hope in his voice, and it wasn’t hard for him to see that the smile you returned was forced.

“Maybe next time, Bucky.” You grabbed your bag off the bench as you spoke, walking silently from the room, the music fading away as you did. He watched you leave, staring as the gym doors closed behind your figure.

A weight on his shoulder pulled Bucky’s attention slowly away from the closed door. Steve stood next to him, staring after you. “Is she alright, Buck?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment of silence, biting his lip absentmindedly. He wanted to chase after you, but uncertainty held him back. It had been decades since he’d tried to care for anyone, and he wasn’t sure he remembered how.

Bucky fiddled with his tie, glaring as Steve laughed. “I blame this on you, punk,” he grumbled. He wore the tie with a grey button up shirt, but he hadn’t gone far enough to wear anything other than his jeans.

Steve’s laughter just grew louder. “I thought you were dying for an excuse to dress up, jerk.” Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head at his friend, gesturing at his neck until his friend helped him to straighten his tie. “At least it matches.”

“Matching is the only thing that matters,” Sam’s voice cut in, and Bucky groaned in faux irritation.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“Just a game of pool,” Sam said, holding his hands up in surrender, “and a bet.”

“That sounds more like you,” Bucky teased, but he followed Sam toward the pool table. “When is your girlfriend getting here?”

“Natasha said she’d be here around 9:00. She insisted she had to be fashionably late.” He handed Bucky a pool cue as he spoke, obviously uninvested in the conversation. “Alright, loser does all the mission debrief paperwork for a week.” Although both men were hesitant, Steve and Bucky didn’t set down their cues and let Sam break. 

The music played quietly as the three men played, Bucky’s eyes darting around the room in search of you. It had been nearly a week since he had seen you, and a week too long as far as he was concerned. You always came to Tony’s parties dressed to the nines, and he had attempted to follow suit. He was excited to see you again, and he even found himself looking forward to the taunts you would undoubtedly throw his way when you saw his tie.

“Buck!” Steve’s voice cut into his thoughts and drew his attention back to the game. “Your shot.” Concern laced Steve’s voice. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.“

“Fine,” Bucky answered, shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the fog thinking of you had created. Bending down to line up his next shot – his winning shot – he lost focus as Natasha walked into the room, Wanda on her left and no one on her right. He straightened quickly, his cue hitting the ball and sending it shooting in the wrong direction, but he didn’t notice. “Has anyone seen (Y/n)?” Bucky asked, no longer paying attention as Sam and Steve continued to play pool.

“No,” Pepper’s voice surprised him, he hadn’t realized she had joined Tony, “but if you see her, let her know she needs to call me. She missed our meeting this morning.” His lungs tightened as she spoke, and panic overrode his thoughts. He vaguely registered Steve repeating his name as he leaned the pool cue in his hand against the table where the drinks sat, but he didn’t stop to listen as he walked across the room. Sam called after him and he waved over his shoulder as he weaved through the crowd. You never missed meetings. 

Anticipation filled his chest as he reached your door and, for a moment, he doubted himself. He knocked on your door softly, his worry overshadowing the little doubt he had. The quiet sounds of your favorite movie were audible through the door, but you didn’t answer. “It’s just me,” he said. “Please let me in?” His forehead fell against the door as the silence dragged on and he closed his eyes. “Please, sunshine,” he said weakly.

He sank to the ground, sitting with his back pressed to your door. “I’ll stay for a while,” he said, unsure if you could even hear him, “just in case you change your mind.” The silence stretched, but he stayed against your door, unwilling to leave until he had seen you – even if you only let him in long enough to send him away. A quiet robotic voice reached his ears and the door behind him opened, letting him tumble into your room.

Hurriedly climbing to his feet, he saw you in bed, curled up beneath the blanket he’d brought home from Russia, staring at the television as your favorite movie played quietly. The dull ache that had settled in his chest when the girls had walked in alone faded. Bucky crossed the room and lay silently on the bed beside you, not trying to pull you from the cocoon you had created for yourself. He recognized the scenes as the movie played, and he had been outside your room long enough to realize it was just restarting. 

It surprised him when you broke the silence, your voice quiet and hoarse. He had to strain to hear your words over the rising music as the movie played. “What are you doing here?” you asked him. “You look a bit overdressed.” You unwrapped the blanket from around you, tossing the corner over his legs.

“Tony’s party was dull,” he said, straightening the blanket more fully over his legs as you struggled to push it toward him. “The company wasn’t what I was looking for.” You hummed in acknowledgement of his answer, but didn’t speak again. He tugged at the tie he was still wearing – the one Steve had said would match your dress – and loosened it until he could pull it over his head and drop it onto the ground beside your bed.

The ending credits began to play and he stood up, crossing the room to take the remote from beside the television and start the movie again. He reached out for you as he lay back in the bed beside you, tucking you into his side and holding you close. You relaxed into his hold, shifting to settle yourself against his chest as the first scene began to play.

This time, he broke the silence as the creature screamed and the man screamed back, shooting the creature before leading the woman to safety. “Will it help if I play it again?” he asked you softly.

“What?” you finally looked up at him, confused eyes meeting his.

“You always laugh. You say it’s because screaming is a useless way to frighten someone, but especially a monster.” 

“Maybe it’s not funny,” you said, dropping your eyes away from his.

“Maybe I miss your laugh,” he said quietly. You didn’t answer, but you shifted closer to him, holding him tighter with the arm wrapped around his middle. He let the rest of the movie pass in silence, content to hold you against him and feel your steady breathing.

Names scrolled across the screen as the credits began to play again. He began to move from your hold to start the movie over again, but your quiet whimpers stop him. Your hold on him tightened and he looked down at you, but your eyes were trained on the remote on your nightstand. Understanding your unspoken request, he settled back into your bed and wrapped his arm around you again as he fumbled with the remote until the credits disappeared and the movie started over.

“Will you do something for me?” he asked, fiddling with the remote until he managed to pause the movie. Instead of speaking, you looked up at him expectantly and tightened your fingers around his side. “Smile for me?” he asked.

A weak smile crossed your lips. “There’s that beautiful smile. I can’t remember when I last saw it,” he whispered. It was forced, and it didn’t reach your eyes, but it was a sight he had longed for for days. The movie began to play again and you turned your attention away from him, but he continued to watch you.

As the movie played on, your eyes drifted closed and your breathing grew slow. The remaining tension leaked from your body ask you drifted to sleep against him. He pressed a kiss to your head and gently shifted you in his hold until he was able to lay down in your bed. “I will always be here told hold you,” he whispered. “On the good days, and the bad days.”

The ticking clock taunted you as you walked back to the front room, but you refused to give it the pleasure of enticing you to check the time for the fifth time in less than ten minutes. You collapsed onto the couch and pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes until sparks of colors danced on your lids. Burying yourself back inside the blanket, you grabbed the remote and began to search for another Christmas movie – anything to fill the mocking silence that filled your apartment on Christmas Eve.

– – –

It was the first time in months you’d woken up without an alarm echoing around your small apartment. Taking a deep breath, you shifted closer to warm chest beside you, and his arms tightened around you in response. “Morning, doll,” Bucky murmured, his voice muffled by your hair.

“Morning, Jamie,” you answered, tilting your head until he was able to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You sighed in happiness as he pulled away, wiggling until you could wrap your arms around his middle and pull yourself closer to him. The sheets were a tangled mess at the end of the bed, Bucky’s heat enough to keep you both warm throughout the night. “Have you been awake long?”

“Just a few minutes.” You hummed to acknowledge his response and the room fell quiet again, neither of you feeling the need to fill the space with useless words, content to lay in silence simply holding each other. Your fingers traced meaningless patterns on his back while his wound through your hair. The motions eased you back toward sleep and it wasn’t long before your eyes had closed again.

“Still awake, doll?”

“Only barely…”

“Do you want breakfast in bed?”

“Carry me to the kitchen?”

Your squeals filled the room as Bucky lifted you into his arms, carrying you through the small apartment you shared and to the kitchen. He set you on the counter, standing between your legs with his arms around your waist. You wrapped your own around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him softly. “Are you going to cook for me, Jamie?”

“Omelets are easy enough,” he said with a smile. You laughed and let go of him, watching as he walked toward the refrigerator and pulled out all the ingredients for your favorite morning omelet. He turned on the radio while he cooked, his hips swaying with the music while you watching. Sliding off the counter as he flipped the finished omelet onto a plate, you crossed the room and wound your arms around him from behind, setting your cheek against his back.

Bucky twisted around and took your hand in his, swaying with you until you began to giggle and then spinning you away from him. He pulled you into his chest when you spun back, his metal hand pressing to the small of your back to hold you closer. Although you rolled your eyes at him, you let him lead you around the room in a shabby waltz, the music far too fast for your footwork. The music ended and he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“I love you too, (Y/n).” He dipped his head and his lips pressed softly against yours for a moment. The silence stretched on and neither of you bothered to speak, simply holding each other close. Eventually you let go of each other and he carried the omelets to the table, pulling you onto his lap instead of allowing you to sit in your own chair.

“When in Steve coming?” you asked quietly when the plates were empty and his arms were around you again.

“A couple hours,” Bucky answered, sighing as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be home by Thanksgiving.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise you.”

– – –

Tony had helped you pick out the tree that stood in the corner of the small front room. Sam had carried it up the six flights of stairs to your apartment. Wanda and Natasha had spent an entire Saturday painting the wooden ornaments that covered its branches with you. You had wrapped the six presents underneath by yourself.

Three for you and three for Bucky.

“I guess you were right, Linus. I shouldn’t have picked this little tree.”

Careful to wrap the blanket around your shoulders, you stood up and crossed the room to the tree, sitting on the ground next to it. You pulled the box labeled From Santa out from beneath the tree and set it in your lap. Your Christmas pajamas were inside. There was matching pair for Bucky was wrapped in a box on the other side of the tree. A stray tear slid down your cheek and you wiped it angrily away.

“I’ll take this little tree home and decorate it.”

The apartment felt stifling. Leaving your comforter on the ground by the tree, you stood up frantically and backed away from the tree, nearly tripping over the coffee table. You turned and stumbled around the couch and toward the door, grabbing your phone and shakily searching for Natasha’s number. She had tried to convince you to spend the night at the tower with her, but you had insisted you would fine. Now, sitting alone in the silence of an empty apartment on Christmas Eve, you desperately wished you hadn’t.

“I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It’s not bad at all really. Maybe it just needs a little love.”

Finally finding the number you were searching for, you opened the door to your apartment and rushed into the hallway. You felt yourself falling before you realized you’d tripped over anything and closed your eyes, too tired to bother attempting to catch yourself. An arm wrapped around your waist and you stiffened as it pulled you back to your feet.

“It’s not like you to leave the television on when you go out.”

Your breath caught in your lungs and your body went numb, your phone falling uselessly by your feet. Opening your eyes just long enough to reassure yourself you weren’t hallucinating, you threw yourself at the figure standing in your doorway, winding your arms around his neck and your legs around his middle. The scent of cheap soap and expensive cologne washed over you and you felt tears streaming down your cheeks as you buried your head in his shoulder.

“Sh,” he soothed as he carried you back into the apartment, kicking the phone inside and closing the door with his heel. “Don’t cry, doll. I’m right here.” You just held on tighter as he walked through the front room and sat down on the couch, his hands beginning to run up and down your back. “I’m right here.”

Another movie had begun by the time your tears dried and you moved away to look up at Bucky. He grinned weakly and you leaned up, pressing your lips gently to his. “I’m so sorry I broke my promise,” he whispered when you pulled away.

A tearful smile cross your face as you shook your head. “Apologize later, Jamie. Having you home is the best Christmas present you could ever give me.”

– – –

The Fray began to drift through the room and you swayed to the music as you walked over to the refrigerator. Another unexpected perk to being left behind was the opportunity to eat more than a bowl of cereal for breakfast each morning. Gathering the ingredients needed for your favorite breakfast omelet on the counter, you danced back across the room toward the cupboard where the pans were kept. You pulled the pan from the cabinet as the chorus began to play and spun around with eyes closed, singing into the handle like a microphone and sliding across the tiles on your socked feet.

Cheering dragged you back to reality and you felt your cheeks heating as you slowly turned to face the sound, wrapping your arms around the pan and holding it against yourself. The Avengers stood in the doorway, amused smiles on all their faces. “You’ve been holding out on us,” Natasha teased, struggling to stifle her giggles. A small squeak passed your lips and she dissolved in laughter, leaning against Sam for support.

“There’s no way in hell you’re getting out of karaoke next time,” Tony said, and you began to walk backwards until you ran into the stove.

“She’ll be leading it next time,” Sam added, his arm around Natasha to keep her standing as she continued to laugh.

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Steve finally spoke up for you, although his eyes were filled with humor. “Everyone go rest up, debrief will be after lunch.”

As the rest of your team slowly filed out of the room, Bucky leaned against the bar with a smirk on his face as you hugged the pan to your chest. “Is that my shirt, doll?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Embarrassment faded into mortification as his words washed over you and awareness of what you were wearing crashed down on you. You set the pan on the counter beside you, self-consciously attempting to pull the hem of the shirt lower. “Uhm, yes?”

The silence stretched on as his eyes roamed over you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed to disappear into yourself and away from the increasingly humiliating moment. “It looks good on you.”

“It, uhm, what?” you stammered, your eyes opening wide as you stared at the man across from you.

“My shirt,” he repeated, the smirk back on his face. “It looks good on you.”

Rolling your eyes in disbelief and surprise, you gathered yourself and turned away from him, returning your attention to your breakfast omelet. “It would probably look better on your floor.” You heard his sharp intake of breath and nearly laughed.

Your smile faltered when you felt his hands rest on your hips and your thoughts jolted to a halt. “Is that a suggestion, doll?” he asked, his breath tickling your neck. Every muscle in your body tensed as you felt his chest against your back. You had always flirted recklessly with each other, but – until this moment – nothing had ever come of it.

“Well, that depends, Sarge,” you managed to breathe, your hands hovering uselessly over the eggs. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

His lips ghosted across your neck and an involuntary whimper fell from your lips as your eyes closed. “Do you want me to?” he asked, leaving a lingering, open mouthed kiss against your skin.

“Sarge, I’ve wanted you to for months.” Your breath caught and you moaned as he nipped at your neck, his tongue easing away the pleasurable pain.

“I’ve been waiting months to hear noises like that from your pretty mouth,” he whispered, his right hand slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and feeling back up to your hip, kneading into your skin.

“Fuck, Sarge,” you whined. “If you keep doing things like that I’ll make all sorts of noises for you.” Cold marble collided with the back of your thighs as Bucky spun you around to lift you onto the counter behind you, his hands hot as they dug into your hips. You were already breathing heavily, desperate to feel his lips against yours. Instead they continued to brush against your neck, pulling another weak moan from your lips. “Please, Bucky,” you begged.

He silenced your pleads with his mouth, kissing you with enough fire to steal the last of your breath from your lungs. Bucky’s hands trailed up your sides and to your chest. “Holy shit,” he growled against your lips as his hands roamed higher, yanking your body closer to his and rolling his hips against yours. Winding your arms tighter around his neck, you lifted yourself from the counter and tightened your legs around his middle. His left hand grabbed your ass, squeezing as he stepped away from the counter and held you up. “Bedroom?”

Bucky’s pupils were blown when he pulled away, his lips pink and swollen. “Think you can make it?” you teased, dipping your head to pepper kisses along his jaw. you felt his right hand gripping the back of the shirt you were wearing as he stumbled from the kitchen and toward his room. A whine tumbled form your lips as he closed the door to his room with your back, pressing you hard against the wood and grinding into you. He tugged softly at your hair, trying to pull you away from his neck, and instead earning a strangled moan as you continued to kiss his neck.

The sounds of tearing fabric filled the room and you finally pulled your lips from Bucky’s skin to glance at him with humor filled eyes. “Impatient, Sarge?”

Your breathing became shallow when he pulled sharply on your hair, bearing your neck to him. “Fuck yes, I’m impatient,” he growled, bringing one hand around to your naked chest while the other still gripped your ass.

– – –

Quiet singing pulled Bucky from sleep. Thin sheets were still tangled around his naked legs as he searched for the sound through half open lids. The black lace underwear he’d dragged from your body only a  few hours earlier were still hung on the back of the chair where he’d thrown them. His own clothes were lost somewhere on the ground.

A lazy smile spread across his face as his eyes found you. Your back was turned to him and you were dancing in the middle of his room, wearing one of his button up shirts. You spun around, your arms in the air as you sang the same song you’d been singing earlier, and he realized the shirt was open.

Realizing he was awake, you smirked and sauntered across the room toward him, letting the shirt slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. “Good morning, sleepy head,” you teased, crawling across the bed and settling yourself on his hips. HIs hands rested on your waist, fingers drawing weak patterns against your skin. “Turns out I was right,” you muttered, bending down to press your lips longingly against his. “It does look much better on the floor than it ever did on me,” you finished, pulling the grey shirt off the lamp where he’d tossed it and dropping it onto the floor before leaning down to kiss him again.

“I never doubted you,” Bucky murmured, and you squealed as he rolled on top of you, tugging away the thin sheet that separated your bodies.

– – –

“Shit. Why the fuck are you naked? Why the fuck am I naked?” you whispered frantically. Your mind was racing. It had been impossible to deny the growing tension between you and Bucky – even Vision had realized what was happening – but you had never expected it to end in a drunken and forgotten night.

You moved to pull the thin sheet up your chest, but you dropped it again when his hand followed yours. Bucky’s eyes grew wide before he spoke, “Why the fuck are we handcuffed together?”

Oh shit.

~

“Damn it, Bucky!” you shouted, dropping your bra again. “Just cover your fucking eyes and stop moving!” You were standing in the middle of your bed, neither of you wearing anything but jeans.

“It’s a little hard to focus when my hand keeps brushing against your skin, doll.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you looked over your shoulder at him. “Wh-what?”

“I said, it’s a little hard to focus,” he repeated, taking a step closer to you and resting his hands on your waist, “when my hand keeps brushing against your very soft,” he took a shaking breath as his forehead rested against yours, “very naked skin, doll.”

Your mind had short circuited, everything overwhelmed by Bucky. He was pressed against you, his hands holding you in place, and you could feel his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. “Bucky?” you whispered, unable to speak any louder.

“Yeah?” His voice was unsteady.

“Are you going to kiss me now? Because I don’t really remember what happened last night and I’d really like to.”

“Yeah,” he growled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. Suddenly you were in the air and pressed to the wall. Bucky’s lips were on yours, hot and hungry and begging for something more.

A stinging sensation shot through your wrist and you gasped. “Shit, Bucky, stop,” you whimpered.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he asked, confusion and hurt filled eyes searching yours.

“Nothing bad,” you said, pressing a hasty kiss to his lips in an attempt to console him, “but unless you want to explain that I broke my wrist while you were fucking me against a wall, we need to get these cuffs off.”

Bucky laughed softly, taking your cuffed left hand in his cuffed right and shifting them so he could reach the small chain holding the links together with his metal hand. He pinched the chain between his fingers and twisted, snapping it. “Problem solved,” he said before pushing you roughly against the wall again, his leg coming up to press between your thighs as he sucked deep purple marks into your skin.

"Easy, like Helen expected," Bucky said. Natasha started to giggle when you shifted again, trying to nuzzle into Bucky's leg as you slowly began to wake up. "She needs to stay off her feet for a couple days, but given that she tore basically everything in her knee, I'd say we're lucky."

"Lucky Bucky," you mumbled, your words slurred as you strained to open your eyes. Everyone in the room started to laugh as you threw an arm over Bucky's lap. 

"Hey, baby," Bucky said, pushing your hair from your face. "How are you feeling, doll?"

"Hi, Jamie!" you squealed, your eyes trying to focus on him. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said, smiling down at you and kissing your forehead again. You whined, puckering your lips until he relented and pressed his lips quickly to yours.

A silly grin crossed your face and you hummed in happiness. "You're so pretty, Jamie," you said, reaching up and running your fingers across his face. "Really, really pretty, Jamie."

"So are you," he answered, laughing and pulling your fingers carefully from his cheek. He motioned Natasha over and your eyes grew wide as she walked to the side of the bed.

"Nattie," you said, your voice filling with anxiety. "Why is your head on fire?"

Laughter filled the room and you furrowed your brows in confusion. "I died my hair my, sweetheart," she said, clearing her throat to try and cover her laughter.

Nodding in agreement your eyes drifted back to Bucky and you began to run in your hands weakly through his hair. "I love you so much, Jamie. Do you know that?"

"I do know that," he said, waving at Sam and Natasha as they quietly slipped from the room while you were distracted. Your eyes fluttered closed. "Do you that I love you just as much?"

"That's good," you slurred, forcing your eyes back open. "Why's every," you paused and concentration filled your eyes, "thing spinning, Jamie?" Your eyes had begun to fall closed and you sighed as you drifted closer to sleep.

Bucky felt Steve's hand on his shoulder and looked up at his friend. "Get her up to your apartment, Buck," he glanced down at you, "and good luck."

– – –

Your head was spinning and your tongue felt like cotton when you woke up. You struggled to open your eyes and moaned. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." Although you still hadn't opened your eyes, you recognized your boyfriend's voice. 

"Jamie," you said weakly, a smile stretching across your lips.

"How are you feeling, doll?" he asked, and you felt the mattress shift as he sat down on the bed. You finally managed to force your eyes open. The lights in your room were dimmed, and Bucky was leaning over you.

"Really tired," you mumbled, reaching toward him and grabbing for his wrists. Bucky laughed and shifted closer to you, lifting your shoulders and resting your head on his lap. He began to run your hands through your hair. "I don't feel good, Jamie."

"Are you hungry, baby? I made some soup and you're going to have to eat before you take your pain medication again in a couple hours," he said, still playing with your hair. You groaned in displeasure at the sound of food, your knee and your head both aching. "Do you want some water?"

"Can you just hold me?" you asked quietly, lifting your arms up and trying to warp them around his neck. "I just want to cuddle until I can take more medicine, Jamie."

He shuffled down on the bed until he was lying down with you, your head resting on his chest, the sound of his heart beat relaxing you. Your eyes drifted closed  "You don't even want to watch Bambi?"

"Bambi?" you asked, pulling your head off his chest to smile up at him. It had been on your first date that you had written a list of the twenty five movies he had to see and in the past year, Bucky had pulled one from  the shelves whenever you had a bad day.

"Yeah," he said, pressing a kiss to your lips. "It's number six on your list, isn't it?"

"It is," you said with a smile, "but I don't want to let go of you."

Bucky smiled, kissing you again. "You were asleep for a while," he said before kissing you again. "I had plenty of time to set up the movie." He reached over you and grabbed the remote on the nightstand. The television lit up and Bambi began to play a moment later. Arms wrapped around your waist and you curled into Bucky's chest as his fingers slipped beneath your shirt and began to draw soothing patterns on the small of your back.

– – –

The bed was empty when you woke to sunlight streaming through the windows. Shifting in an attempt to sit up, pain shot through your knee. You moaned and heard footsteps rushing through the hallway. "(Y/n)? Are you okay? What happened, doll?" Bucky asked, sliding through the doorway and stumbling to a stop at the foot of the bed.

"Can I have some pain medication, Jamie?" you asked quietly.

He walked to the side of the bed, kneeling next to you and slipping his hands under your body. "Yeah," he said, careful of your knee as he lifted you into his arms. "Let's get some breakfast first though, okay? I don't want you taking those pills on an empty stomach."

"Okay, Jamie," you said, nodding as he carried you through the hallway to the living room. "Will you make me some strawberry toast?"

"Of course, baby," he said, setting you down on the couch. "The toaster is one of the few things I do know how to use." He kissed you softly, running his fingers through your hair. "Why don't you watch Daredevil," he teased, " while I make us some toast. 

"How did I get so lucky?" you asked, setting your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss him again. 

"I definitely think that I'm the lucky one," he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I love you so much, (Y/n)."

– – –

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He tried to scoff and it rapidly dissolved into another coughing fit. You began to rub soothing circles on the small of his back. “I don’t get sick, doll,” he mumbled as his coughs died away.

“Really?” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Because you’re burning up, babe.”

“Positive,” he said, tugging himself out of your hold and standing up. He swayed, but made his way to the dresser and pulled his shirt over his head. You watched silently as he slowly changed into a pair of shorts and the Winter Soldier shirt you’d bought him for his last birthday. His shoulders began to shake as he fought off another coughing fit. “Do you want to train with Steve and me?” he asked, taking a deep breath as he stopped.

“We shouldn’t be training at all, Jamie,” you said walking up behind him and winding your arms around his middle and pressing your cheek to his back. “Juts come back to bed and cuddle.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” he argued. “I’m fine, baby.” You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s back, knowing any more arguments would fall on stubborn and deaf ears.

Instead you let your arms fall from his waist and walked to the pile of freshly washed laundry in the corner of the room to find something to wear down to the gym. “Sure,” you finally answered his earlier question, digging a pair of leggings from the pile. “I’ll come train. Just… take it easy, Jamie? Please?”

“Stop worrying, doll,” he said, pulling you into a hug. His skin felt warm against yours. “I told you, I don’t get sick.” Bucky let go of you and turned away. You just shook your head and sighed as you followed him from the room. This was not going to end well.

– – –

Bucky threw a weak punch at Steve, stumbling over his own feet. You were leaning against the wall, anxiety filling your chest as you watched Steve simply step out of reach again. “C’mon,” he continued the same argument that had started when you’d first reached the gym. “Buck, you look like shit. Go back to bed with your girl.”

“I’m fine, Stevie,” Bucky insisted, losing his balance as he tried to kick at Steve. Steve wasn’t even trying anymore. He didn’t need to. “You’re the one that gets sick.”

With a sigh, Steve caught the next punch Bucky threw, holding his hand still. “Bucky,” Steve nearly begged. “Look at your girlfriend, look at me! Can’t you see how worried we are about you?”

“Well, you don’t need to be!” Bucky said, taking a feeble step toward Steve and trying to pull his hand away. You watched as his body shook and you lurched forward, realizing what was happening too late. Bucky collapsed and Steve jerked down to grab him, barely managing to keep him from hitting the ground.

“Told you,” Steve murmured, standing up with Bucky still in his arms. “Your floor?”

“Yeah,” you said, reaching over and running your fingers across your boyfriend’s cheek. “I really did try to convince him to stay in bed this morning,” you said quietly, tears gathering in your eyes as you looked at him.

“Been this way since we were kids,” Steve reassured you, noticing the tears in your eyes as he walked from the gym. “Hey,” he said quietly, stopping by the elevator while you pressed the call button. “He’s going to be fine, (Y/n). If his fever doesn’t break by tonight, we’ll take him to the med bay, okay?”

Forcing a weak smile onto your face, you walked into the elevator behind Steve. “Thanks, Stevie,” you said, never taking your eyes from Bucky.

The elevator dinged and you followed Steve through your apartment and into your bedroom. Steve laid Bucky on the bed and your boyfriend groaned in displeasure. You threw Steve a grateful look and shooed him out of the room, sitting on the bed next to Bucky as he slowly woke. He moaned again, squinting in confusion as he opened his eyes. “What happened?”

“You passed out, Jamie,” you said quietly, beginning to carefully stroke his forehead.

His skin was feverish under your fingers and he sighed in relief when they brushed across his cheek, leaning into your touch. “Why are you so cold, baby?” he asked quietly, his eyes drifting closed. He lifted his metal hand until it held your against him.

“I’m not cold, Jamie,” you said, laughing quietly when his brow furrowed in confusion. “You have a fever, honey.”

“No,” he said, forcing his eyes open. “I told you, ‘m not sick.” His hand fell from yours and back onto the bed.

“Jamie,” you said, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Please just let me take care of you?”

Groaning in displeasure, he reached toward your body, trying to grab hold of your waist. You took his left hand in yours and smiled gently as his eyes found yours. “My throat hurts, doll,” he said weakly.

Cheering silently in your head, you bent to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll bring you some lemon water and honey, okay?” You stood to walk away and his hand gripped your tighter.

“Don’t leave me, baby.” Bucky’s voice cracked and you looked down at him. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with red. He looked like hell.

“Okay, Jamie,” you said, stepping closer and letting him wrap his arms around your waist. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you called. “Please have Steve make some lemon water?”

“Yes, Miss,” the electronic voice echoed around the room. Bucky tried to pull you toward him, but his strength was nearly gone and his arms just fell to his sides. Your heart constricted as you watched him. Even when he was reserved, he had always appeared to full of life. It was hard to see his eyes empty and cheeks hollow.

Sitting on your side of the bed, you ran your fingers through his hair again. His eyes began to drift closed and he hummed contentedly. “It’s so cold,” he mumbled. The sheets on your bed were still tangled at the bottom of the bed from that morning, and you pulled the thin sheet over his body. He reached for the blanket gathered around his feet and you pulled his hands gently away. “Still cold.”

“It’s your fever, Jamie,” you said, laying your hand against his forehead. “You’ll overheat with a blanket, honey.” He just whined, wrapping his arms around your waist and wiggling until his head was in your lap. His eyes were still closed and he relaxed as your fingers began to drag through his hair again.

The door opened quietly and Steve stepped into the room, a mug in his hand. “How is he?” You started to stand to take the drink from Steve, but Bucky whimpered and held you tighter. Steve just shook his head and his shoulders moved with silent laughter. “Get’s clingy when he’s grumpy.”

“Sick,” you said and Bucky moaned from his place on your lap, “but finally admitting it.”

“Used to take his mom days to get him to admit it,” Steve said, setting the steaming mug on the nightstand by your bed. His eyes drifted over his friend and filled with concern. “Do you need anything else? Medicine? Something for you?”

“We’ll be okay, Stevie,” you said, smiling up at him and stroking Bucky’s cheek. “Just hand me that book on the dresser?”

Steve laughed quietly, trying not to disturb the man in your lap, and walked to the other side of the room. He grinned as he picked up the worn paperback that was almost falling apart. “Angels and Demons?” he asked and you giggled before reaching out to take it from his hands.

“One of my favorites,” you explained, opening the book to the page you had dog eared the night before. Steve just grinned and left the room. The door closed and you began to read quietly to Bucky. It was the same way you would calm him down when his thoughts began to run wild. He would curl up with his head on your lap and listen while you read him one of the books from your shelf.

Bucky’s breathing grew slower and his arms loosened around your waist and you began to fall asleep. You smiled softly and bent awkwardly to press a kiss against his forehead. His skin had grown cooler – not by much, but enough to ease your worries. He mumbled something unintelligible against your thigh. “I love you too, Jamie.”

– – –

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