What It Tastes Like

Summary: Bucky didn't intentionally break her trust, but maybe Sam has the right idea of how he can make it up to her.

Warnings: fluff, fluffy angst (maybe), Sam Wilson being immature, implied smut, language, hints at the reader having abilities but not explicitly mentioned.

W/C: 1k

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC, Sam Wilson. Mentioned: Zemo.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Notes: set during The Falcon & The Winter Soldier, I imagined them in Zemo's apartment in episode 4 but not specified.

A/N: I'm sorry for posting so often but I'm on a roll, so I'm making the most of the inspiration.

"I thought I could trust you," she says, bottom lip sticking out in an adorable pout.

She's not trying to be adorable, her expression is fierce, but that just makes it worse. He should be taking her seriously but Bucky's not sure he's ever wanted anything more than to kiss her. He's staring at that protruding lip and it's all he can think about. If the circumstances were different, he'd do it. He'd lean in, nip that plush lip with his teeth then kiss away the sting. He'd kiss her until her lips were swollen and she was breathless. Then he'd do it again till she was delirious and light-headed.

She snaps her fingers a millimetre from his eyes, and it's the disruption in his vision that brings him back to the room.

"You're supposed to be making amends, Barnes," she teases, "and here you are doin' some shady shit to the person who took your ass in, helped you when you needed it most. We're supposed to be able to trust each other."

He gives her a crooked smile. "You can trust me, doll."

"Don't doll me," she sneers, "not after what you've done."

He chuckles. He can't contain it even if he'd wanted to because that sulking like a toddler pout is back and it's even more adorable than the last. "It was never my intention to upset you," he admits, sincerely trying to level her seriousness. "How can I make it up to you?"

Sam's standing in the kitchen, over her left shoulder, and he's wearing that 'I know a secret' type smirk that seems permanently plastered to his face. Bucky knows what Sam is thinking because he's thinking it too. But still, childishly, Sam mimes kissing an invisible woman, eyes closed, arms holding a ghost.

Bucky quickly waves him away while she looks down at the knife she's using to scrape dirt out of a groove on the breakfast bar.

She shrugs. "I'm not sure there is anything."

Ever the adult, Sam gyrates his hips and pretends to smack an invisible ass. Bucky sees the flash but it's not until the blade embeds into the cabinet door a centimetre from Sam's head he realizes she threw it without looking.

"Hey," Sam whines, eyes flicking from the blade to her, "he's the one who ate your damn chocolate!"

"I can see you," she says, pointing toward his reflection in the glass cabinet, then twisting to look at him. "You got somewhere else you needto be, Captain?"

"You're on your own, buddy," Sam jests as he strides out of the room and closes the door.

Bucky gulps, which he hopes she misses as she turns back to face him. It was easier with Sam in the room, even with his immature teasing. There was no chance of his urges getting the better of him. Not that kissing her is a bad thing, but he's not sure it's what she wants.

"It's not just any chocolate," she defends. "It's imported, real hard to come by, and it was my last bar."

Shit. He worries she's genuinely upset and not just busting his balls. All he can think to say is, "Sorry," again.

"I don't know how long it will be before I can get my hands on another one," she says, picking up the empty candy wrapper and sighing wistfully. "I was saving this one for a special occasion, and it's been a while since I had one, not sure I remember what it tastes like."

"I'm really sorry doll, but we'd been in a fight," he rambles, the guilt making him feel terrible enough he needs to explain that it was an unavoidable situation. "Sam was patching me up and I needed the sugar and it was the first thing Zemo threw at me. I will go out right now and I swear I won't come back 'til I find another one or at least find somewhere to order one and I'll pay whatever it costs for delivery. Or…or… I'll get all the ingredients and ma…"

Faster than his eyes can track, just like the knife, she's on her feet. Her lips press to his and the shock freezes him for a heartbeat. His eyes close when he realizes what's happening and he feels her tongue poking at his lips. He stands up too, slipping a hand around her waist to draw her closer and the other holds the back of her head, tangling in her hair. She sighs when their tongues finally meet and a needy moan rumbles from his chest in reply.

As soon as her nails trail a blazing path up his arm to lock around his neck, he knows he'll never get his fill of her. If he gets a chance to take a kiss further, to feel every single inch of her, he'll want more. Always.

The kiss lasts a lifetime and yet not nearly long enough. A moment before he becomes breathless she pulls back, nipping gently at his bottom lip and he wonders if she can read minds.

She hums, seemingly sated and happy. "That's what it tastes like."

"You want another taste, just to be sure?" he asks, not recognising the blissed-out husk to his tone.

She kisses him again, but when his tongue seeks entry she pulls back and he chases her lips as she unravels herself from his hold. He stands dumbfounded for a moment, desperate to know what all this means now. But it seems too soon for a marriage proposal.

Instead, he settles for, "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Oh god no," she chuckles. She turns to face him but continues to walk backwards, her smile jesting and mischievous. She winks, "But maybe Sam had the right idea of how you can make it up to me."

That adorable pouting lip is caught between her teeth as she crosses her arms over to grab the bottom of her shirt.

In the few seconds her face disappears under her shirt as she pulls it off, he reminds himself again. Too soon for a marriage proposal.

His brain malfunctions, his jaw goes slack but her shirt hits the floor and the rest of his anatomy is functioning perfectly fine. He drags his eyes from her lace-clad breasts back to her face and she uses a finger to beckon him closer.

"Oh fuck." He palms his erection through the denim of his jeans and he growls before running to catch up with her.