The first time Bucky woke up the next morning, you were pressing back against his chest, bare skin sliding along his as you adjusted your position on the bed. He slowly opened his eyes to find the curve of your neck and shoulder, the sweep of hair behind your ear. Early morning seeped through the blinds, washing the room in dim grayness. The pillow buffered your head against the metal of his upper arm; the memory of stray hairs caught between the plates aching behind his ribs and tugging his mouth into a smile. Flexing the fingers of his right hand where they draped loosely over the softness of your waist helped solidify the fact that it was all real. You were real against him. Not just the perfect, vivid dream he might've had before.

Of course, all thoughts of that were brushed aside when you moved again. No doubt you were awake, judging by the sound of your breathing and the deliberate stretch and arch of your back. It notched your bodies flush together, your hips snug to his. He sucked in a tiny gasp through teeth before they dug into his lower lip as he felt himself twitch sharply into the soft flesh of your ass. The attempt to calm down proved useless; his mind flooded with memories of the night before, nose filled with the scent of your hair and skin and sweat, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. Sliding his hand to your hip, Bucky breathed your name into your shoulder in a hoarse, weak sort of warning, all bite lost from it with the low shudder that ran through him.

A small whine escaped your throat when you twisted your head, revealing your tinged cheeks and the poutiness of your mouth to him. It did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his chest or between his legs. Neither did the sight of the corner of those lips of yours curling up, sleepy and wicked, or the sound of your thick, groggy chuckle while you wiggled against him enticingly. "C'mon, Buck. Just one more."

"Didn't I wear you out enough last night, doll," he managed to snicker somewhat breathlessly behind your ear, despite the involuntary cant of his hips seeking out the delicious friction along your skin. Yet, your boldness about it made him grin. Somewhere between the second and third time he had you crying out the night before, the two of you had lost some timidity. But it was morning now and to find you still so eager, still wanting him, was both a relief and a turn-on.

You shook your head at his question, your hair tickling his nose and chin and coiling something deeper than physical desire in his gut. When you teased back against him once more, his eyes fluttered shut and a low groan rumbled in his throat, his mind momentarily devoid of any thoughts other than the feel of your body and how much he ached to be inside you again. Hardly able to deny either of you anymore, Bucky maneuvered you both so that some of his weight rested over your back and hips, though he was careful not to crush you. Metal fingers bit into the mattress just above the pillow as his flesh ones slid between your silky thighs to part them and press his right knee between yours. You opened so easy for him, shifted and canted your pelvis back just right that he could've been gone then and there at the first feeling of your slick folds along the length of him, ready for him. Instead, he mustered his willpower to hold back, stifling another laughing groan in the crook of your neck at the way you squirmed in an attempt to get closer. "Mmmm, my girl's insatiable, huh?"

"I'm allowed," you countered with an air of mock haughtiness. He could hear the playfulness in your voice which made him nip gently at your ear, causing you to giggle lightly. "It's new for us. We're allowed to fuck like rabbits."

That sobered him a bit. Not enough to make him pull away, but enough so that he moved his right hand to splay low across your sternum, something almost nervous fluttering in his own chest when he spoke again, quieter. "Y'know, it's more'n that for me, right, sweetheart? It's not... m'not just fuckin you."

"I know," you nodded as best you could, unable to turn you head far enough to see him. But he caught the flush on your face, felt your heart thundering beneath his fingertips, your lungs stilled the same as him. Blindly, you reached your right hand back over your shoulder and Bucky lifted to press his lips into your palm, then your wrist as you felt across his cheek and ear to tug affectionately at his hair, tingling over his scalp and down his spine. Your voice was so gentle then, so achingly tender when you continued. "It's more for me, too, Bucky."

The worry inside Bucky melted into a hopeful, dizzy kind of warmth as he leaned down to pepper kisses from your hairline over the mussed tresses until his lips brushed along the crook of your neck, your fingers tangled at the top of his scalp. Your nails dug into his skin somewhat roughly when he took his time burying himself inside you, watching in profile the blissful way your eyes closed and your lips trembled as they parted. A kittenish moan of approval slipped from your throat and jolted through him like lightning, made his hips snap up into yours quicker than he'd intended. The sudden jostle didn't seem to bother you at all, though you did remove your fingers from his hair to slide between his where they rested on your torso.

And when your bodies began to move together, the dark, self-loathing part of Bucky's mind was wonderfully quiet. There were no bloody or cold memories then. There was no brain-washed killer on puppet strings. There was no enhanced soldier so far removed from his place and time. He was just a man. A man making love to the woman who'd set his heart on fire, who helped make living bearable again. Every deliberate angling of his thrusts, every hot kiss against your skin, was meant to pull those pleasured noises from you that drove him wild. Only one semi-coherent thought ran through his head; the almost desperate need to make you feel as good as you made him feel.

"Bucky... Bucky, please," you whimpered quietly at one point, voice somewhat muffled by the pillow you'd buried your cheek into. Still, his name on your lips was the sweetest sound he could ever remember hearing. "Please, touch me."

"Anything," he spoke into your tangled hair, though there was something wobbly in his breath and his insides as he slowed. "Anything my pretty baby wants."

Bucky pressed deep inside you, unwilling to lose any contact, before rolling you both to rest on your sides again. Taking quick care to make sure a sheet draped between skin and metal, his left arm snaked under you and around your ribcage. Cupping carefully at one of your breasts didn't feel quite the same in that hand, but he could still register the soft, suppleness there, the peak of your nipple as his thumb circled; and the fact that you trusted him to touch you so gently, let alone seemed to enjoy it with the soft little sounds you made and the way you arched into his palm, had him rocking his hips again at a measured pace. Your head tilted back to rest against his shoulder, the mass of messy locks cushioning against harsh plating, and Bucky leaned in to kiss and nip and lave along your skin. It afforded him a glimpse of your profile once more, your features worked up and flushed with a breathless little smirk on your lips so goddamn gorgeous it made his heart ache while his right hand slid over your stomach and down to the juncture of your thighs.

Once his fingers reached their destination, you let out a keening moan against the lower lip tucked between your teeth and your muscles clenched tighter around him. A short string of curses escaped Bucky as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, trying to breathe through the sensation. He had to force himself to stillness to keep from coming undone before you were even close. All but his fingers that kept working delicately along your skin, seeking out the right pressure, the correct movements to make you gasp and tremble and writhe. After several long moments, he felt your right arm sneak under his to reach behind you. He lifted his head to give you a questioning glance, unseen by your closed eyes, just as your fingertips dug gently into his hip and urged him closer to you. It wasn't difficult to take the hint and soon he began moving again. This seemed to please you, a grateful sigh leaving your lips as you lifted your leg to wrap back around his, opening you up even further for him, making his gut twist and quake. The slight change in position let you shift in his arms until he could feel your hot little panting breaths against his face. Ducking his head let him seal his mouth over yours in a thorough, somewhat desperate kiss while he drove into you firmly and touched you as gentle as he could.

"Bu-Bucky, I... I'm..." you managed to stutter out after who knows how many moments or minutes of the two of you moving as one. Time wasn't really registering in Bucky's head, just the sound and feel of you.

"Yeah, baby. I know," he whispered back, pressing his lips at the corner of your mouth. And it was the truth. Your body was already starting to tense and there was a sweet fluttering around him that said you were almost there. He let out a half-amused huff. "M'not too far behind ya, if you say it's okay."

The small, frantic nod you gave him brushed your noses together and was accompanied by your fingers still on him gripping tighter, your body grinding back against his. "Course it's okay. C'mon, Bucky. Please."

"God, lookit you, sweetheart. You're so beautiful. Don't think I ever met a woman beautiful as you. Ain't just talkin about that pretty face a yours, or this body either," he breathed quietly against your cheek. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was babbling sweet, but he couldn't help it and he certainly didn't give a damn. Not when he had you there. "S'that feel good for you, kitten, hmmm? Feels good for me, wanna know if it does for you too."

The only response you could muster was another little nod and a soft noise in the affirmative. Bucky smiled, a swell of pride in his chest as he nuzzled along your jaw and behind your ear, fingers and hips still making you keen. "Always wanna make my girl feel good. So good it might be hard to walk straight."

"Bucky," you spat out, tone half laughing and half scandalized as you swatted at his ass playfully. But it just made him pick up the pace a little, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Shush and just lemme keep lovin on ya, alright," Bucky chuckled low and let his mouth and teeth and tongue roam along your skin. Your response was an appreciative hum, craning your neck so he could kiss wherever he pleased.

It didn't seem long at all before he felt that shift in your body again. A hitch in your breath. A quiver in your thighs. High, incoherent sobs from your heaving chest beneath his metal hand. The gentle squeeze and release along the length of him that made him shudder and groan even as he continued to move with you, urging you on with every slick touch. Then, all at once, you seemed to snap, trying and failing to hold back a loud cry while your back arched almost violently away from his chest. Bucky kept a tight hold of you, moving his hand low on your stomach so as not to hurt your oversensitive flesh, breath caught in his throat at the way your hips rocked back into him wildly. And just as predicted, every one of his senses overwhelmed by your release, it took only a few more sharp thrusts before he buried his face at the back of your neck to muffle his own obscene moans and grunts as he emptied himself inside you.

The comfortable quiet that filled the room seemed to match the still-gray morning light, tranquil, serene, disturbed only by the sounds of heavy breaths slowing and the reverent glide of Bucky's fingers along your skin. Your bodies were still connected and slumped together, his gladly accepting the hot weight of you. He kissed at the knob where your neck and spine met, not minding the sweat-damp tendrils of your hair that no doubt matched his own, trailed his right hand up to caress your collarbone and gingerly over your breasts. Certainly, there had been peaceful, blissful moments for him a long time ago, before The Asset, before the war, yet none he could remember held a candle to the last several hours when he got to be nothing but a mass of tangled limbs with you, learning your body better than his own.

After several moments, you stirred beside him, stretching out like a cat in a patch of sunlight. The sleepy, vulnerable display brought a smile to Bucky's face, though you both let out somewhat disappointed sounding noises as your movement pulled your pelvis away from his, forcing the two of you apart. When you leaned back into him, he could hear you laughing under your breath and didn't have time to suppress his fondness to ask before you were already saying in a lilting voice "I guess you weren't lying when you said you were close."

"You kiddin me? Had ta stop myself a couple times. Ladies first an all," he teased, shifting to prop himself up on his left elbow and mouthing gentle at your skin where his facial hair had roughed it up. "You just don't know what you do to me, babydoll."

Peeking up, he caught sight of your bashful little grin while he slowly kissed his way down and over your shoulder. His right hand roamed idly; your throat, sternum, stomach. You shivered slightly, goosebumps forming, whether from his ministrations or from the ends of his hair tickling you, he couldn't say, but he enjoyed it just the same. If this was all he got with you, the night before and this morning, then he would savor every single second, every breath. Hell, the only reason he slept at all was because he knew you were tired. And because the feel of you curled up asleep in his arms was better than he could ever describe. It reminded him of that night months ago, in the same bed, almost as intimate for different reasons. So close, so quiet, he could share anything with you.

"I held you like this," Bucky confessed to your upper arm before huffing at his own ridiculousness. "Well, not exactly like this. But I held you the night Stevie came over for dinner, after I came to see you and you let me stay. Never asked, just did it."

"Yeah, I remember. It woke me up at first, but I think you needed it; that comfort. And I definitely didn't mind," you replied with no small amount of affection audible in your voice.

The nonchalant admission startled Bucky's attention back to your face, your eyes shining up at him a bit coy. You'd known this whole time? There had never been any indication, not a single word, even that morning when he had been embarrassed to admit what he'd done. Then again, maybe that was why. Now, he could only manage a self-deprecating shake of his head, feeling foolish even as he pressed his lips to your skin once more. "You're amazing, sweetheart."

"Eh, I'm alright, I guess," was your shrugged response, though he saw the small smirk gracing your lips.

Bucky let out a playful growl before gnawing at your shoulder in a mock bite. When you sputtered out a giggle, rolling out from under his teeth and onto your stomach, he really couldn't complain. Not with the nearly unimpeded view of you naked from behind, all soft and curved and sweet. Such a stark contrast from his own body, from anything he'd been able to really feel in a long time, and he relished it. The way you positioned yourself brought Bucky's fingers to rest at your waist; it was so easy to let them lazily make their way across your skin. A contented sigh from you spurred him on further. Map the curve of your hip, measure the distance down to a knee, memorize the back of a thigh in vivid detail. His touch skirted close to the slick remnants of your lovemaking, the visceral sight of it stirring something big and strangely possessive in his chest that he couldn't name.

"We're gonna have to wash the sheets later," you murmured, just barely audible from the pillow you'd gathered under your face with both arms.

It shook Bucky from his thoughts and he licked at the sudden dryness of his lips and mouth when he looked up to find your ear, the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders dusted dark in embarrassment. He offered an acknowledging hum through his forming smirk as his hand moved up gently over your ass to the small of your back. The statement was definitely true. Both of you had contributed your fair share to the mess. Still, hearing you say we sparked a fresh hope in Bucky. He couldn't help leaning down to press his lips against the lower curve of your spine near where his thumb swiped affectionately.

You squirmed just a little under him with a gentle, amused snort. "Are you trying to get me riled up again, Barnes?"

"No, ma'am," he smiled into your skin. Though even he knew the denial seemed half-assed since he could barely bring himself to leave a single inch of you untouched or unkissed. "Just can't help admirin you, sweetheart."

"You're crazy," was your laughing reply, but it trailed off in a quiet little mewl when he smoothed his hand firm up your back.

"Yeah, 'bout you," Bucky countered cheekily while he continued planting kisses up the path of your vertebrae.

Over the next few minutes, he took no small amount of pleasure in lavishing your bare skin with all the tender contact he could, short of getting you both worked up again. Lips brushed along your shoulder blades. Hands worked along your muscles to feel them going lax in comfort. Fingers roamed your ribcage, finding peace in the gentle expansion from your quiet breathing. But suddenly, a loud yawn broke the silence, muffled only slightly by your pillow, and Bucky watched you hunker down as if trying to melt into the bed, lips smacking dramatically lazy before quirking up at the corners. He nuzzled a silent chuckle at the base of your neck. God, he adored so many things about you and your random acts of ridiculousness were nowhere near the bottom of that list. "Gonna get up, dollface?"

"Nope. Still tired. You can really-" Your somewhat childish sounding reply was broken for a moment by another small yawn. "You can really tire a girl out, Bucky."

"C'mere then," Bucky urged with a grin, grabbing his own pillow to tuck between his head and his metal bicep. The other arm hooked around your back so he could haul you in a little closer. He had no intention of missing a chance to be pressed against you as much as possible.

When you twisted your head around to look at him, hair wound up plastered to your face in a chaotic mess. The way you blew at it from the corner of your mouth, brow scrunched slightly in concentration, proved futile. It was hard for Bucky not to laugh while reaching up to smooth the stray tresses away, revealing that soft, sweet smile of yours that made his heart thud too hard in his chest. Then, with his fingers still curled in your hair, you surprised him a bit by leaning over and kissing him. It was lingering and fairly chaste, yet still somehow full of emotion, lips parting just enough to taste at each other delicately, your hand cupping his jaw with your thumb gripping lightly at his chin, as though trying to keep him from moving away. Entirely unnecessary, though, considering he never wanted to leave.

"I'm so glad you came back, Bucky," you eventually breathed quietly once you'd pulled back a few inches. The hint of wetness in your eyes didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm sorry I ever left," he replied, hearing the shakiness in his voice and trying to clear it from his throat. He'd tried to give his apologies in words and actions all night, and though you accepted them, it felt like it would never be enough. That darkness and doubt trying to worm its way back in, Bucky ran his fingers through your hair and let his gaze roam your face, desperately trying to keep it at bay for as long as possible. "And m'sorry I hurt you, sweetheart. Don't ever wanna hurt you. Christ, I don't even deserve-"

"Shhh, shhh. Stop, Bucky," you interrupted him gently while pressing your fingers over his lips. When you seemed satisfied he wouldn't go on, you let your touch meander along the scruff of his cheek, his forehead, brow, down the bridge of his nose. It was comforting and eased some of the tension that had begun to buzz through him, but he saw the silent plea in your eyes as you continued to speak. "I hurt you, too. And I'm sorry. For pushing you away, making you feel rejected, when it was just my own stupid fear. That's what you don't deserve."

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, but wasn't sure exactly what to say to reassure you, how to react, and, apparently, you didn't expect him to. Instead, you shifted around on the bed, nudging him partially onto his back and nuzzling your way under his chin, elbow crooking around his torso to snuggle close. It seemed only natural to wrap his arms around you. Natural and comfortable and right. And he was certain he felt you smile against his chest. "Might sound silly, but I'm happy just being here with you like this."

"I'd be silly then, too, sweetheart," he sighed through a smirk, dropping a kiss into your hair and resisting the urge to squeeze you in as tightly as he could.

After several long minutes of stillness, Bucky felt your body begin to go slack against him. A few more, and your deep, even breathing let him know you were fast asleep. You barely even stirred when he deftly maneuvered the covers back up to drape over both your bodies, though it was mostly to make sure you stayed warm. Only when he knew you were well-guarded from any possible morning chill did Bucky let himself settle and start to drift. His mind skipped through shoddy memories; dalliances with other girls long ago that had either never gotten this far or not felt quite the same, all the times he wanted to touch you and how it felt to finally be able to. And he distantly realized he was on the verge of sleep as his thoughts wandered down paths he would never allow them to when fully awake, mixing new wants and old, almost forgotten dreams he couldn't let himself have anymore. Like the old courthouse steps where you stood in a bright new dress and a wide-brimmed hat to shade your face from the sun. Or the blanket his Ma knit before he was even born, wriggling gently in the bend of his metal arm.

The next time Bucky opened his eyes, it was mid-morning, judging by the way the room was lit. Much like the very first time he woke up next to you, after a deep, comfortable sleep that had been blissfully free of nightmares. Except this time, the sound of your quiet snoring let him know you were still in the bed with him. That fact made his heart quicken despite himself. You must have squirmed your way out of his grasp while you both slept, because only your hand rested on his chest then and he had to roll onto his side to look at you. You were curled up, head barely on the pillow, face peaceful besides the rapid back and forth flicker of your eyes behind their lids. Something in your breathing worried him a little. Nagged at the back of his mind with the memory of you being sick. Yet, when he reached out to brush his fingertips gently across your forehead and cheeks, he was relieved to find you weren't feverish. He bit into his lower lip to suppress a chuckle as your face scrunched in mild annoyance before going lax again. And he couldn't help his smile at the endearing noise of contentment you made when he pressed a kiss against your temple.

A few more moments were spent just gazing at you. The slow rise and fall of your chest. The soft sweep of eyelashes on your cheek. The barely-there splotches where he'd been a bit rougher with his lips and teeth than he'd intended. He would've been happy laying there beside you for much longer, but he knew he couldn't sleep anymore and he didn't want to risk waking you should he become restless. You gave only a small questioning murmur as he slid carefully out from under the cover and onto his feet before you rolled over to settle again. There was near-silence after that while he pulled on his boxer-briefs and jeans, not even bothering to button or zip them all the way to avoid disturbing you again. He decided his shirt and shoes could stay, if for no other reason than to let you know he was still around. Just the idea of you waking up alone, thinking he'd snuck off on you after everything, made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, pausing at the mirror to comb his fingers through his hair as he tied it back and savoring the ghosts of already-faded marks left on his skin by your nails and your sweet little mouth, Bucky padded quietly down the hall toward the living room. Sam told him you had made changes to the place and it was evident the moment he stepped inside the night before, but now he had a chance to look over the details. No more worn knickknacks collecting dust around the place. A turntable set up on a shelf with faded record sleeves in names, both foreign and familiar to him, lined up neatly beside. There was a blanket he hadn't seen before, a patchwork of pastels, folded carefully on the bench, its imperfections and dottings of cat hair telling him it was well-loved. Most noticeable of all were the few pictures on display here and there around the room. He recognized most of them from the shoebox you'd allowed him to look through; you, your mom, grandmother, your sister. All of the photos smartly framed, save the small strip of three photo booth pictures propped up alongside a snap of you, your sister, and Wilson, making his chest tighten. You'd definitely made changes, all right, but the place still had that unmistakable feel of home; a feeling Bucky itched for and hoped he hadn't lost a chance at.

The cat mewed at him softly from her place on the counter when he entered the kitchen before her attention turned out the window above the sink. As he drew closer, he followed her line of sight to find several song birds fluttering around a feeder filled with seed on the back patio. You must have put it out when it started getting colder. Even with the sun shining, the glistening frost had barely started to melt from the grass. Bucky huffed in amusement while he scratched behind Potato's ear, earning him a pleasant mrrrr and a headbutt to his knuckles.

"Don't think your Ma'd like you bein up here, Kitty," he chided quietly as he moved past her toward the coffee maker, pleasantly surprised to find it still tucked in the corner, ready for use. Though he didn't really need the caffeine, he'd been struck with a hankering for a cup of joe. Something about the chilly morning and the strange domestic urge Bucky didn't even want to question. There had been plenty of coffee at the compound, in so many varieties it had almost been overwhelming, but as he popped open the simple canister from its remembered place in your cabinet, the smell of the brand you'd bought just for him warmed his insides as much as the drink itself would.

An inquisitive sounding mrow had him looking over his shoulder to watch the agile feline stretch lazily, first her front legs, then her back. It was obvious she had no intention of heeding his little warning and no shame of it as she pranced along the counter top to rub her cheek along his metal arm. Bucky only chuckled under his breath, returning to the business at hand. Once he'd finished measuring out the ground coffee and filling the reservoir, rather entertained with the way she followed him to the sink and back, he finally flipped the machine on and reached out to pet along Potato's soft fur again. She startled a little when the percolating began, but she circled, deliberately smashing her face along Bucky's left palm, before gracefully sitting with her tail curled around her feet. His attempt to pull his fingers from her resulted in an indignant quack of a sound and an insistent batting of her paw until he reached up to tug on her ears gently.

"Gettin mighty pushy there, furball," Bucky snorted, but continued to indulge her a bit. It made the cat purr louder and tilt her head contently. As for him, it just made him roll his eyes sentimentally. "Yeah, yeah. Guess I missed you too, tuna breath."

Of course, petting could only hold Potato's attention so long before the fickle thing pulled away. She resumed her position near the sink, after a moment starting to chatter and trill quietly at the birds outside. With a shake of his head, Bucky ignored her mrrr of protest and scooped her up in one arm to deposit her on the floor. She looked none too pleased with the situation, but only plopped down on her side as she glared up at him.

"Was either that or let your Ma make hashbrowns outta ya," he shrugged, not caring that he was attempting to reason with a cat. "Speakin of hashbrowns..."

It occurred to Bucky that he should make you breakfast. You had cooked for him so often before, he felt it would be a nice little surprise for you, the least he could do. Not to mention that nagging desire that loomed at the edge of his thoughts, wanting to make amends for the pain he'd caused you. A night in bed and a meal wouldn't be enough, but he could start there. Just a matter of figuring out what to cook. He remembered you liked that breakfast pie thing... quiche, but he didn't see a recipe book anywhere and didn't feel it was his place to go fiddling around with your computer without your consent at this point. Not when he'd just come back after so long.

There were only a few eggs in the fridge anyway, rather sparse compared to what he'd seen before. A look in the pantry revealed mostly staples; dry pasta, canned soup and fish. Though, as he spotted the shelf with flour and sugar and all the miscellaneous needs for baking, a quiet, childhood memory skipped across the surface of Bucky's mind. Cold mornings, the smell of coffee brewing on the stove. Sitting on the counter, helping his Ma cook stacks of pancakes for the family, with butter and syrup or jam when they could get some. Hell, sometimes it was his Pop making up the simple breakfast before he had to go off to work, whistling a tune and a bounce in his step while Ma dealt with a fussy baby. When he asked why his father was the one in the kitchen, he only got his hair ruffled by the older man and told that one day he'd understand. And there, standing at your open kitchen pantry, if never before, Bucky was pretty sure he got what his Pop had meant.

It took a few minutes and a bit of concentration, but he was pretty sure he remembered the recipe from when he was a kid. At least, it looked about right as he filled up the mixing bowl. Of course, stirring was a lot easier than he recalled, due in no small part to enhanced strength and a bionic arm. If you walked in then, seeing him use his left arm to whisk everything together, he was fairly certain there'd be a smartass comment about him being an electric mixer. Bucky didn't even try suppressing a smile at the thought. You didn't happen to walk in during that part of the process. Instead, about the time he was setting the skillet to heat on the burner, he heard the faint sounds of you stirring in the bedroom. His guts twisted slightly in anxious anticipation until the bathroom door opened and shut, followed soon by the shower turning on. That would give him enough time to get started.

The first round of pancakes were just ready to come out of the skillet when the water turned off in the bathroom. A handful of moments later, they were plated up and the floorboards in the hallway creaked gently at your approach. Bucky turned around, intent on greeting you despite not being quite sure what he'd say, only to be rendered momentarily, foolishly dumb at the sight of you anyway. You stood paused in the entryway to the kitchen; damp hair, socked feet, bare legs, wearing the blue button-up shirt he'd left behind. The one he later realized matched the color of the jacket he wore while serving with Steve and the Howlies. And his mind reeled at the memory and the sight of you and the overwhelming idea that maybe you could be his. Still, he somehow managed to wet the dryness from his mouth and lips with a swipe of his tongue before he spoke.

"Mornin, солнышко," he smiled. The gentle endearment was true in a way, if you asked him. Seeing you walk toward him the night before, happiness and relief shining on your face, had been like seeing the sun for the first time in ages. Even the Russian didn't taste like ash on his tongue anymore when he knew it made you blush so sweet.

"Morning, Bucky," was your slightly groggy reply, ending in a big, wide yawn and a sheepish grin as you rubbed at your eyes. He turned to ladle another round of batter into the skillet as you drew closer, only to hear you add "Though I don't know if I warrant such pretty language after just rolling out of bed."

"Ты прекрасна в любом языке, голубушка," Bucky chuckled lightly with a shake of his head. When he looked over to find you at the counter to his right, so close, a look on your face somewhere between curious and annoyed, he let his fingertips reach out for you and pinch the collar of the shirt, tugging just a bit along the edge leading down to the top button as he gazed at your face starting to flush. "This my shirt?"

"It was here and I guess it sorta smelled like you," you explained quietly, offering up a weak attempt at a nonchalant shrug.

Bucky gave a curious hum, trying to play it cool himself despite the feel of his heartbeat picking up. Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in to press his nose where blue fabric met your neck to take a deep whiff. Your hand moving to rest on his arm and the way you craned your neck were both relief and encouragement to him. His hands found your hips only to feel you shiver against him as he exhaled along your skin. "Hmmm, smells like you now. Might want it back."

"Sorry," you replied in mock regret. Your fingers slid up his bicep and over his shoulders until both your arms were loosely circled around his neck. "This shirt is currently being occupied."

"We could fix that." He smirked into the hinge of your jaw, barely setting his teeth there in a playful little gnaw.

You squirmed at the sensation, tickled, distracted, and Bucky took the opportunity to swoop down and grab you by the back of the thighs, lifting you up off the ground. The startled gasp you gave sputtered into a thrilled giggle as he plopped you to sit on the counter. It made his chest feel big and proud, knowing he could elicit such happy sounds from you. Then, you kissed him through your laughter, soft and sweet and lingering. Between that and the feel of your bare thighs at his waist, he could've damn near melted right back into you. But the scent of pancakes getting too close to burning hit his nostrils, making him grip your chin with careful fingers to reluctantly pull you back.

"Would you quit distractin me? Can't ya see I'm tryin-a work here," he teased, brushing his thumb along your lower lip. It seemed to be your turn to nip and his turn to shiver when your teeth scraped gently along the pad of his thumb, your eyes a bit hazed, and Jesus if he couldn't've had you right then and there. Yet you relented with a somewhat triumphant grin, taking his hand in yours to rest at your knee. It was all he could do to ignore the sudden tightness of his half-done jeans so he could turn toward the stove.

"You didn't have to make breakfast, Buck. I could've done that," you informed in a gentle voice, your touch sweeping along his knuckles while he flipped the pancakes.

"I wanted to. I like doin things for you, sweetheart. For my best gal," he ventured honestly, feeling his own cheeks trying to turn traitorously warm and hoping he hadn't overstepped his bounds. When he dared to look up at you again, you seemed almost bashful, a crooked smile on your face. Something in it chipped away at a bit of the worry in his mind, making it easier to slot himself back between your legs with his arms around your waist, his own grin playing at his lips. "Think maybe you'd let me take ya out more now? Maybe to a show? Dinner? Dancin? Gonna let me show you off and make the whole world jealous?"

Snorting out a laugh, you rolled your eyes, and for a fleeting moment Bucky worried that you might never really understand just how beautiful he thought you were, how much you meant to him. It was something he definitely didn't mind working at if given the chance. But all that was pushed aside when you heaved an overly dramatic, put upon sigh. "I dunno, Bucky. You said I was your best gal. That implies there might be others I'm not aware of."

"You kiddin me, dollface," he beamed up at you cheekily, bottom lip tucked between his teeth while he reached down to grip your ass in both hands, making you jump with an adorable surprised squeak. "I got my hands full enough with you. Don't need nobody else, sugar. Don't want nobody else."

"Sweet talker," you admonished lightly, though your hands slid up his chest to lace your fingers behind his neck.

"C'mon, you like it," Bucky countered somewhat smugly. He couldn't help the flicker of confidence in him that fanned brighter at your touch or the way your soft, gorgeous eyes regarded him in almost equal measures of tenderness and want.

"Maybe a little," was your begrudged admittance. He found himself sort of smitten with the twitch at the corners of your lips, trying to hold back a wide smile that eventually burst through anyway. "Maybe I also like that you're making me pancakes for breakfast."

The sheer delight on your face was infectious and Bucky didn't even try to resist it as he leaned in closer to you, tilting his head as if he meant to kiss you but stopping a few inches shy. "Good choice, then?"

You nodded slightly, moving in to almost close the distance, letting your breath fan warm against his face, eyes lidded. "I think I could get used to being your girl, Bucky."

A quiet, possessive, triumphant beat in his chest had him capturing your lips with his own, pulling you to the edge of the counter so your bodies were pressed together. The kiss was thorough, more assuring than demanding. Suction and tongue and teeth all gentle. Your kittenish licks and nips were enough to make him sigh into your mouth despite himself. Breaking away from you was difficult, but as much as he wanted to just stay wrapped up with you like that forever, he was still acutely aware he had something on the stove to tend to. It definitely wasn't the kind of fire he cared to start.

This time, you didn't stay on the counter when he moved back to the task at hand. Instead, you hopped down to your feet, a little less than graceful. It must have scared the cat, because a split second later there was the sound of padded little feet scampering off toward the living room. Bucky glanced over to see you start to slip around behind him, but stilled at the timid glide of your fingertips along his side. Not because he was spooked, though he figured that's why you were being so gentle; because he wanted to memorize the feel of your arm slowly wrapping around his waist. There was caring in that touch. There was love in the press of your cheek against the bare skin of his back. In the sensation of the tip of your nose and the curve of your lips brushing along his spine, making his chest ache. Despite the banter and the playfulness and the time spent tangled up in each other, he still found it hard to fathom that after everything he'd seen and done he could find something like this, someone like you. That dark whisper in the back of his skull tried reminding him how much he didn't deserve it, but he wanted it too much. And the soft stretch of your body along his made it easier not to listen.

Your left hand slid its way beneath his metal arm, which he raised a bit to give you room, until it rested over where his bullet wound should be. He'd practically forgotten it was there over the course of the evening. As your thumb caressed idly back and forth at the edge of his rib, Bucky nearly shuddered at the tender kiss you planted on the line of scars where metal plates met flesh. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Plenty of batter remained in the mixing bowl, ready to be cooked. It hadn't occurred to Bucky that the recipe swimming around in his brain was enough to feed a family of six. Not that he couldn't polish off whatever you weren't able or willing to eat. But a few minute's wait wouldn't really hurt anything. In all the time spent with you and all the advice given by Wilson, he'd come to discover it really was best to talk when he could. It wasn't always a walk in the park, but if there were ever times that seemed to take the edge off, they were quiet moments with you. Bucky turned off the burner on the stove, moving the skillet to the side, before reaching up to lace the fingers of his right hand with the ones you had cupped to his side.

You stepped back, allowing him room to turn around, but Bucky quickly pulled you back in, the curious concern on your face giving way to a small smile. His lips lingered a moment on your forehead just as he started to gently tug you along with him toward the breakfast table right off the kitchen. There was no hesitation when he sank into one of the chairs and urged you to sit across his lap, though your arched eyebrow didn't go unnoticed.

"Easier to talk when you're close," he answered quietly, letting his arms rest around your waist. Some of the tension in his muscles dissipated when you hooked your arm behind his shoulders, leaning into him with an understanding nod.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Buck. You know that." Warm fingers slid across his jaw, thumb slipping along his cheekbone like you'd done so many times before. There was something so satisfying in finally being able to brush a kiss to the inside of your wrist, a gesture he thought he might've wanted to do all along.

"I know I don't. I wanna, but I just..." He almost said he wasn't sure where to start. With his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, a derisive snort left him at the stupidity of that. Of course, you start at the beginning. He just wasn't sure what he should and shouldn't tell. A glance up at you revealed a patient expression as you dropped your hand to his chest.

"The mission was to stop an arms dealer who was gonna auction off HYDRA weapons," Bucky started again. Your uneasy shift at the mention of his old captors was oddly comforting to him, like you understood that it had to have been difficult for him, but you stayed silent. "A couple of our guys got spotted, which led to gunfire. Steve called us in, but some civilians were stuck on a bridge nearby and would've been caught in the crossfire, so I tried to clear them out with Wanda. A missile got launched that Stark wasn't able to stop. Ended up takin out part of the bridge. Most of them were gone by then, but there was a kid, a little boy trapped in car at the edge of the impact site."

The slight hitch in your breath was more felt than heard, drawing Bucky's attention. He gathered you in tighter to his chest before offering a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, doll. I got him out. Jaws of life, remember? Sure, he was a little banged up, but I handed him over to his ma and they were able to get to safety. I was distracted though, that's how those guys got the drop on me. They only got in the one good shot before me, Wanda, and Barton took em out. The arms dealer gave Steve the slip, took us a few days to track him down again, but we did and were able to bring him in. So, one less bad guy walkin free. Go team."

There. That was the long and short of it. No need to worry you with details. Like how his wound might have healed quicker if he'd actually let himself rest while they were on the mission. And broaching the subject of Wanda's offer to help his memory with her mind powers could wait until later. There'd been enough people fucking around in his head for a lifetime, but he didn't want to decline it until he had a chance to think it through. Not now though. Now, he wanted things to be just about you and him.

"Go team," you echoed him in a much lighter tone than his sarcastic one. Your fingers brushed gently over the side of his neck as you kissed his cheek. "But you saved people, Bucky. Especially that little boy. That had to make you feel good."

"It did," he nodded, flashing you a tight smile. But his attention fell back to his metal hand at your waist, shiny fingers bunching the blue fabric somewhat nervously between them. "If I'm bein truthful, it's probably why I came back here. Sam told me how much I hurt you and Steve told me what you said on the phone when he called, but... But I still wasn't sure if I should or if I could. I guess knowin I helped out that kid made me feel like I earned it. Like I earned gettin to see you again after what happened between us."

"Bucky," you said quietly, tone sympathetic as you took his chin and pulled his gaze up to yours.

But he wasn't quite finished yet. There were things he wanted to say before he lost the guts, before they got all drowned out and swallowed up by the insecurities in his mind. Pulling your hand from his face to hold in his metal fingers seemed to let you know there was more and he licked the dry anxiousness from his lips. "Listen, baby, I know you're strong and smart and capable. Wouldn't've made it through all the shit you have if you weren't. You been on your own so long, you don't need anyone. Least of all a guy who ain't even got his head on straight all the time. A gal like you can take care of herself. I just want you to know that you don't gotta..."

"I don't want to be on my own anymore," you chimed in, the strain in your voice making it sound rough. Your hand moved from his shoulder to cradle the back of his neck, fingernails scraping softly at his scalp and sending a delicious shiver down his spine.

"Then you won't be, sweetheart. You won't be." A breath of pure relief escaped him, a load taken off him by finally saying it and by your response. Better than he could've hoped for. Bucky grinned as he untangled his fingers from yours so he could cup your cheek and kiss you, still pleasantly surprised with the way you nuzzled into the metal like it made no difference. "Just wanna help take care-a you, like you always do for me."

He could feel that sweet smile of yours against his lips before you pulled back enough to look him in the eye. "Alright, yeah. I do kinda like the sound of that, Bucky. But you don't have to earn being here, okay? I want you here. I wanna be with you."

"You just keep right on tellin me that, beautiful. Any time you want," Bucky smirked in response, shaking his head slightly. "But I don't know that it's gonna make my brain work any different."

"I know," was your heavy sigh. He swore he could almost see the cogs turning in your head for a moment. No doubt trying to figure out what you wanted to say, just like he had. Then you shifted in closer to him, fingertips wandering idly along his bare chest. "So, if we're going to do this thing... And I so want to, Bucky... but if we're going to, then you need to make me a few promises."

"Name 'em," he replied quicker than he realized. It made him sound too much like an over eager kid and he had a quiet laugh at himself. "Hell, I don't guess there's much I wouldn't do for you, sweetheart."

The somewhat strained tilt of your lips let him know you were about to get serious before you even started talking. "I know you're going to go on more mission. It helps, I get it. But I also know that there are going to be times when it might get rough on you. So when you come back, you have to let me help. Sometimes you might wanna talk and sometimes you might not, but I need to make sure you're going to be alright. And if not me, then just someone, okay?"

Bucky nodded in agreement. The thought of your sister crossed his mind, but the request was a piece of cake in his opinion, considering he was already trying to do just that. Though he doubted he would need anyone besides you to help settle him. When you seemed convinced he understood, you nodded in kind.

"No taking off in the middle of the night," you continued. That one weighed a little heavy on him, remembering how he'd done just that to you before. But he didn't dare interrupt for yet another apology, no matter how much he wanted to. "I mean, you go for a run, you do your PT, you go to the bathroom, whatever. That's something different. I just don't want you to disappear after we might fight. I'd rather stay up all night working it out than go to bed angry or upset. And definitely no sneaking out on a mission. Wake me up if you have to. Because I just... I..."

"Hey, baby, shhh," he soothed, realizing you were starting to spiral a bit. The redness rimming your eyes concerned him and he swiped his thumb along your cheekbone in the hopes it might calm you.

You took a steadying breath, but didn't try to backpedal out of it. And the fact that you let him see that soft spot in you, let him try to comfort you for a change, meant more to him than you could ever know. "One day, Bucky... one day I know you might not come back from a mission. It would eat me up inside if something were to happen to you and I missed one last chance to tell you how much I care about you."

"Look at me, sweetheart. C'mon," Bucky coaxed with a gentle tilt of your jaw until your eyes met his again. Wetness glistened on your lashes, made his heart clench just a little, but he managed an even voice and a slight smile. "You got every right to be worried, but it's gonna take a hell of a lot to keep me from coming home to you. So don't count me out too quick, got it?"

There was an amused huff before you ducked your head in a quick affirmative. Blinking caused some tears to roll down your cheeks and he gladly smudged a few away as you wiped at the rest. When his fingers slipped into your hairline, you gave a quiet sniffle before leaning in to press your lips over his. He kissed you gentle for a few long moments. Until the tip of your tongue flickered out to taste at his Cupid's bow. Your mouths molded together, teeth just scraping against each other's lips. His hand found its way back to your waist to pull you in tighter, even as your fingers looped behind his neck.

You broke away first, chest heaving slightly in an effort to catch your breath. Bucky felt chagrined. Maybe after such serious confessions wasn't the best time to try devouring you. Yet, you didn't seem to mind in the least. Brushing your nose along his, smile playing at your lips, you spoke again in a low voice. "There was another thing I wanted, Bucky. More than anything else right now."

"Yeah," he asked, somewhat breathless himself, trying to keep from pawing at your hips like an animal, but unable to stop the feral grin that took over his face. "Tell me."

"I want..." you whispered warm at the corner of his mouth. The feel of you pressing your torso flush with his and your nails skimming down his neck threatened to shudder through his whole body. And the way you nipped his bottom lip did the trick even after you let it go with a soft, wet little pop. You definitely had his undivided attention. "I want those pancakes you were supposed to be making me."

Bucky blinked in confusion, brain attempting to switch gears to keep up. It finally registered at your teasing snicker and he let his head fall backwards with a frustrated groan. Laughter at his expense was interrupted by his playful growl when he grabbed you up tight to bury his face at the crook of your neck. His teeth set to gnawing at the spot he knew was there. One of the few he'd discovered the night before where with just the right amount of pressure he could make you squeal in delight. And he was rewarded with exactly that, the high pitched sound breaking into giggles as you squirmed in his grasp. He let himself revel in the sound and vibration of your laughter on his skin a few moments more before he relented and pressed a kiss just under your chin.

"C'mon, Bucky. You make a girl work up an appetite, least you can do is feed her," you pouted while shoving at his chest weakly with your forearms. Yet the tremors of your dying laughter made your voice lose any bite it might have had.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled in mock annoyance against the fabric at your shoulder before pushing you up to your feet with a gentle swat to your ass.

No sooner had he stood himself, than you plopped right back down in the same chair. When he gave you a questioning look, you offered up a shrug. "I'm gonna stay right here. That way, you can't blame me distracting you if you burn any of them."

"Oh, that's right," Bucky nodded thoughtfully, lips pursed and brows pinched like he was remembering something. Then, he snapped as though he'd finally come up with what he was searching for. "You're the only one allowed to burn things in your kitchen."

"Damn straight." The smug smirk on your face was almost too much, especially as you made a great show of stretching your legs out to cross at the ankles and leaning back with your fingers laced behind your head.

Hell if Bucky could resist swooping in for one more kiss. Because he wanted it; this happiness you gave him, this real, physical reminder that his life could be more than just the terrible things he'd done. He really would earn it, no matter what it took. He promised himself that. Earn every touch and every kiss and every smile that warmed him like the springtime sun. Until then, he hoped loving you like nothing else would be enough.