Dusting had never been your favorite household chore. Not that you were particularly fond of chores overall, but there was something so mind-numbingly tedious about moving every little thing off a shelf, cleaning off all the nooks and crannies, and then trying to put it back just right. It was bad enough when you were a little girl, only made worse when you got older and the trinkets became sad reminders that you couldn't let go of for so long. Of course, there was less hassle now that the knickknacks were either packed away or donated so another family might make better memories with them in the background. Yet, even though you wished Bucky were home, for more reasons than just to take over the job for you with his meticulous eyes, you couldn't help but smile a bit as you wiped down the new photos that had cropped up among your old ones. Most were of you and Bucky, though Sam and Steve made appearances here and there.

You were just running a rag over a picture from Thanksgiving - the one Sam took of the four of you at the dinner table using Redwing, where he looked at the camera "The Office" style as you and Steve laughed at Bucky holding up a turkey leg in salute to the drone - when you heard the front door being unlocked. Your heart thundered in excitement, knowing it was Bucky back from the mission. This one had been nearly two weeks long and while he had messaged you a few times to let you know he was alive, it just wasn't the same as finally having him home again. Duffel bag dropped heavily to the floor, Bucky was already toeing off his boots and socks as you made your way toward him, the snowy-sludge caked into his soles starting to melt on the mat by the entryway.

"Welcome back, Sarge," you teased gently, tossing the rag onto a side table as you walked by.

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes," he replied with an exhausted smile when he looked up at you. Bucky had only been on a few missions since the two of you decided to be together, yet you could already tell this one had been rough on him. Not necessarily terrible, maybe just... more difficult than expected. He hadn't even bothered to change back into civilian clothes, though his stubble was maybe only a day old. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Coaxing was hardly necessary and as soon as you were within reach, Bucky was folding his arm around you to pull your body tight to his. Tongue-damp lips pressed firm and fleeting over yours, then at the hinge of your jaw, before he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and breathed deep. With one arm slung around his shoulder, cheek pressed against his hair while your other hand smoothed along the unkempt locks, you could feel his slow exhale relieving some of the tension coiled under the leather and fabric of his uniform. In a soothing, quiet voice, you said "It's gonna be alright, Buck. You're home now."

The affirmative noise he made buzzed along your skin with his gentle nod, pressing even closer into you. Then, suddenly, there was no solid ground beneath your feet, just air and Bucky's strong arm across the back of your thighs as he hoisted you up around his waist. It wasn't long after finally confessing how you felt about each other that you realized he really enjoyed doing that; picking you up, carrying you, grabbing you, anything that gave him as much physical contact with you as possible even if it wasn't always sexual. Obviously you didn't mind, a small part of you always wondering if he remembered what you'd told him that first night. Still, whenever he literally swept you off your feet, this instance included, you let out a small surprised sound. Bucky's response was a chuckle buried into your shoulder, low and tired, but happy. He carried you easily into the living room, barely looking as he maneuvered around the furniture. Collapsing backwards across the couch, his body cushioning you from any real impact, caused the frame to shudder and give a low groan in protest.

"You're gonna break my couch if you keep that up," you chastised lightly, zero ire in your smile as you propped yourself up with your hands on his chest, his own fingers curled loosely where your hips straddled his.

For his part, Bucky gave a small shrug. The gaze he fixed up at you, head tilted slightly and his lips just curling up at the corners, was full of weary softness and so much love, like he could look at you for ages and never get enough. "I'll getcha a new one."

You stuck your tongue out at him, nose scrunching slightly, and it only made him grin wider. Those dimples of his flashed, as glad to be home as you were to have him there. Reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his face, you let the backs of your fingers skim down his cheek and the edge of his jaw, just reveling in the fact you could touch him again. A chaste little kiss was planted on your knuckles while flesh and metal thumbs alike caressed lazily at the hem of your shirt before you spoke once more. "So, any wounds you need doctored, Mr. Superhero?"

"No, ma'am," he replied. The mock authority that danced across his features gave way to amusement in less than a heartbeat, his hands slipping from your hips to start in on the clasps near the top of his uniform. "Just a few scrapes and bruises. Already healin up nice."

"Do you wanna talk about it," you asked in a gentle tone, watching his face while your fingers moved to stay his own. Even though he had been very good about letting you in at his own pace, about telling you if he was physically hurt or mentally rattled, asking always made you hold your breath in anticipation. Always concerned it might bring him too much pain or make him shut down. But you had to do it, just to let him know you were there for him.

"Not right now. Eventually, I promise. Just... not right now." Bucky's voice had gone quiet, that little line between his brows deepening as his eyes fell from yours just a fraction. The response wasn't unusual, often following a patch of bad dreams or dark thoughts that swam through his head. Neither was the deliberate swipe of his tongue along his lips that pulled the lower one between his teeth to worry at for a second until his expression cleared a bit. The hint of a smirk seemed meant to reassure him as much as it was meant for you when his right hand reached up to cup your cheek. "D'rather relax with you for a while first, okay, sweetheart?"

"Okay," you nodded, content that he would keep that small promise in due time. Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, then the tip of his nose before settling at his mouth. It seemed to help ease him some, features smoothing while he kissed back, quick and sweet. Pulling up from him again allowed his fingers to trail down the length of your torso until his touch rested at your thighs.

Your attention turned to the troublesome uniform at hand, the myriad buckles and zippers and snaps feeling needlessly complicated as you let the air in the room shift. It wasn't that you hadn't become pretty familiar with all of them, it was just a headache dealing with it, especially whenever you wanted him out of the damned thing quickly. Not for the first time, you wondered if the design of it offered him a meticulous sort of ritual, a way to calm and prepare himself for whatever the mission might be and a way to release stress whenever it was over. The fact that he never failed to patiently indulge your less than graceful assistance probably meant something, too. Though, also not for the first time, the vibrations of Bucky's silent laughter beneath you made you snort in annoyance.

"Are you hungry," you questioned with a quick glance to his smiling face, undeterred from your own little mission. "I volunteered at the library today, so there's only leftovers right now. But I could make something fresh if you want."

"I'm good for the moment," Bucky shook his head, amusement barely concealed in his tone. If you were being honest, something about the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes had your fingers working a fraction faster.

"Aha!" was your triumphant cry when the last obstacle of his uniform jacket came undone in your hands. It earned you a chuckle and playful squeeze of the meaty part of your thighs as you pushed at the leather and fabric. "How about a shower then?"

Bucky sat up suddenly, the movement forcing you to rest back in his lap to make room, a small, playful huff leaving him as he shrugged off his outer layer. "You tryin-a tell me I stink?"

"C'mon, Buck. You know I don't mind that macho musk of yours. Eau de Avenger," you teased, touch daring to ghost over his exposed abs when he reached behind his head to tug off his undershirt. Of course, he knew damned good and well what that display did to you. "I just want to make sure you have a happy homecoming."

"You're too good ta me, babydoll." The musing tone of his voice was accompanied by a quick shake of his head, bouncing long dark locks back into place after tossing his shirt onto the coffee table. With both arms snaking around your body, he pulled you in tight to his bare chest. His mouth was unhurried when it found yours, slow and easy and savoring, had you melting into the kiss in no time at all.

Soon, two strong, sure palms were smoothing their way up your sides, carrying the fabric of your top along with them, though the lazy pace he set never faltered. You were the one that had to break away after a moment, catch your breath, even as you raised your arms to let him peel the shirt right off you. "Getting a little frisky there, Buck?"

"Hmmmm... maybe later," he breathed out a chuckled low and warm into your collarbone, the tip of his nose tracing the hollow of your throat. A shiver licked up your spine chased closely by flesh fingers until they deftly unhooked your bra. The contented little sigh he gave didn't help matters much when he slipped the straps down your shoulders to mouth tender at the indentations left behind. "Right now, I just wanna feel your skin on mine, sweetheart."

Once the undergarment joined his discarded clothing, there was no attempt made to tease or fondle. Instead, Bucky drew you close to press his face into the curve of your neck once more. Held onto you as if it was all he needed in the world. And when you reached up to comb your fingers through his hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp, you could've sworn you felt a faint whimper flutter from his plush lips. It was easy enough to maneuver him with your hands tangled up in his dark tresses. Sometimes, in intimate moments like these, both your bodies seemed to move as one. Or maybe it was a sort of trust you'd started to build together; an understanding that where one went the other followed with little to no hesitation. Either way, you managed to scoot off his lap and barely any contact was broken as you made to lounge back across the couch. Bucky, ever quick and observant, snuck one of the small pillows beneath your head with only the slightest peek over your shoulder before settling his hips between your thighs, his broad chest covering yours.

"M'not too heavy for ya, am I," he whispered, concern tinging his voice when he raised his head just enough to meet your eyes.

"No way," was your soft reply pressed with a kiss to his forehead.

The quirk of his eyebrow said he wasn't entirely convinced, yet he still made himself comfortable. His arms tucked beneath your back, sparing you the weight of his prosthetic, and he laid his cheek, almost scorching hot and somewhat itchy, against the open plane of flesh between your throat and breasts. The rise and fall of your chest and the beat of your heart made his head bob slightly in time with their rhythm. Bucky didn't seem bothered by it at all. In fact, he hummed in amusement when your quiet giggling shook him up even more. You let your fingers trace idle, intricate patterns just at his hairline, which seemed to lull him until he gave up trying to hover just above you. Uncoiling tightly wound muscles so that you were flush together and the press of him was a solid, welcome reminder that he was finally back with you.

"Tell me what happened at the library today," Bucky eventually asked after several moments where the only sound was gentle breathing and the brush of your hands through his hair.

You snorted a laugh at that before snuggling your face against the top of his head. "You're off who-knows-where, always trying to protect the world, and every single time you get back you want to know what I've been doing in my little mundane corner of it."

"Why else do you think we do that stuff, sweetheart," he countered and you could feel the faintest curve of a smile against your skin. "Besides, I like knowin what my lovely librarian gets up to when I'm gone."

Of course, Bucky knew you weren't really a librarian, just like you weren't a vet whenever you walked dogs at the animal shelter or a counselor when you helped set up refreshments at the clinic. They were just things to do to get you out of the house a few hours a week and back into the world again. But far be it from you to argue with your soldier just returned home. So, you regaled him with whatever unimpressive events you could remember from the day. And he inserted a comment or acknowledging noise here or there in response. A laughing groan when you told him about Potato nearly making you late by coughing up a particularly gross-looking hairball on your shoe. The mention of a patron who sounded like she had the plague incorrectly reshelving her own books earned you a gasp of mock horror. He was pretty amused by the fact that when he texted you to say he was coming home, your cell phone volume was turned up, drawing a few side-eyes from people and a fond smile from an elderly gentleman since Bucky's ringtone was the opening to "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy." And for a split second it seemed like he almost cooed at your recounting of how Story Time Corner went with the kiddos. All this culminating in nothing more than coming back to the house and cleaning until he showed up at the door.

"Sounds like you've had a day," Bucky teased, rising up on his forearms above you. There was a playful smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes while dark locks curtained both your face. "Maybe I should be offerin to make you food, huh? Or draw ya a bath? Would ya like that, my hard-workin girl?"

"Shut up, ya goof! You're the one that wanted to know," you laughed and squirmed beneath him to knock your knee into his hip and drive the point home.

Bucky just grinned down at you, the softness in his features that still managed to stutter your heart, before he ducked his head to kiss you again. It was sweet and gentle to start, tasting tender at each other's mouths through lips that couldn't shake their smiles. So many kisses since the first one and yet they all somehow retained that small spark that threatened to erupt in your chest. But as ready and willing as you were to fan that flame, that didn't seem to be what Bucky needed right then. Instead, you snaked your arms around his ribcage in a loose hug, hoping in these few precious heartbeats you could help keep him warm and safe. If not from the world itself, then at least from the things in his head that sometimes wore him down more than anything that could happen to his body. After clawing his way back from hell, choosing to fight monsters, both human and not, doing what he could to save the world and make amends for things he had no control over, he deserved peace and you would do what you could to give him that. Especially when it felt like of all the places he could go, all the people he could see, all he wanted was to be tangled up with you on an old couch in the middle of snow-covered nowhere.

"I missed you, Bucky," you told him quietly once the kiss had eventually broken, your lips lingering close to his a bit longer than necessary. Because even though you wanted nothing more than to be that stalwart comfort for him, he had slowly, but surely, become the same for you. Having him there just made things feel closer to right.

"Nowhere near as much as I missed you, I bet," he teased back with a stiff shake of his head. It made the ends of his hair tickle across your face, making you laugh and move your hands to shove at the practically immovable expanse of his chest. The deep, mischievous chuckle that rumbled through him lasted a moment or two before he tossed his head back and adjusted to swipe the strands behind his ears with an amused sigh. "Though, I hate to break it to ya, kid, I s'pose I should let you know I got another mission comin up."

"What," you croaked out, the sudden shock sinking your heart. Even you could hear the slight disappointed whine in your voice when you added "But... but, you just got back, Bucky. Are they really gonna make you leave again so soon?"

"Hey. Hey, uhn -uh. None- a that. S'nothin dangerous and it's only for a night," Bucky coaxed around a gentle, reassuring smile. That was a relief, at least, though you still didn't like the idea of being parted from him any time in the near future. So, it was extremely confusing when he brought his hand down to cup your cheek, thumb swiping aimlessly as the devious dimples appeared on his face. "In fact, this mission, I'm gonna need your help with."

Driving through the whited-out stillness that surrounded the Avengers compound, Bucky hazarded another quick glance at you in the passenger seat beside him and wondered for maybe the millionth time already that evening how the hell the two of you managed to make it out of the house. Especially with just how gorgeous you looked all dolled up like you were. It reminded him of the night when you'd first danced together, except there was something better about it now he just couldn't explain. Soft hair all pinned up to show off that pretty face, eyes lined as dark and elegant as you please, lips a sinful shade of red that made his blood rush if he thought about it too long. And that dress. You'd been eyeing it online since he first mentioned the party, but refused to treat yourself despite his coaxing. That is, until he struck a deal with you. If you bought the dress, he'd go out and buy an actual suit and tie to wear. Easier said than done on his part, and he had to recruit the help of a snickering Steve and Sam, but there were absolutely no regrets the moment he saw you all made up that night.

So, there you both were, dressed to the nines to attend a Stark party at the remote facility. It seemed Tony was intent on throwing a lavish celebration for every mission success, though no one rightfully would have expected anything less from him. Usually, they were held at his high-tech high-rise in the middle of Manhattan, which Bucky had easily and happily managed to avoid since becoming part of the team. He much preferred being at home with you to relax in peace, away from the buzz of strangers and the expectation of being social when all he really wanted was quiet and familiarity and you. This time, though, Tony made up his mind to have a smaller gathering at the compound; family and friends, as he put it. No doubt spurred on by a few others, namely Steve, after Bucky's refusal to join them in the past. And he was set to decline again, despite the little concession, until the Tin Man mentioned that you might enjoy having some fun outside the house and meeting the rest of the team that Bucky spent so much time with. He probably had Sam to thank for that one. Because Stark wasn't exactly wrong on that, and Bucky had wanted to take you out and show you off a bit.

"Wow," you smirked, peering through the windshield and out your side window with mild amusement as he neared the hangar. "Huge building in the middle of nowhere with a mini landing strip. Very covert."

Bucky couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped him. "Yeah. And there's a huge 'A' painted on the roof. I think that's about as subtle as a Stark can get."

You chuckled under your breath, though it was soon replaced by a look of genuine interest when he pressed a button on the car's console. What had looked like a steel wall beneath said landing strip separated and folded in on itself to reveal the garage entrance; almost like something out of the science fiction shows you watched together. And Bucky was sure he heard just the slightest bit of surprise in your voice when you tried to deadpan "Okay. That's pretty cool."

The usually sunny hangar was lit softly by the perimeter lights, its glass wall giving a wide view of the snowy night beyond. Much quieter than normal without all the people bustling around working on one thing or another. Now, there were only a handful of recognizable vehicles alongside the dormant quinjets. Bucky parked next to one of Tony's sporty, flashy numbers, wondering momentarily if maybe Stark had ironed out the wrinkles in Howard's flying car plans. When he glanced your way, your seatbelt was already undone and you were halfway to your feet. The smirk you flashed said you knew he would have liked to get the door for you, but hell if he could complain about the particular view it provided. After an amused shake of his head, he got out to join you at the front of the car.

"You actually get to fly around in these bad boys," you said, voice a bit awed as he led you past the jets with a hand at the small of your back, your heels echoing somewhat in the large space. "Ever pilot one?"

"I could, they can fly themselves though until something big happens. By then, I'm usually hip deep in the fray," Bucky smiled. It was a pleasant surprise to find you gazing around the place, a sparkle of wonder in your eyes. Maybe on another fairly quiet day, he'd have to bring you up to have a proper tour.

It wasn't long before Bucky had guided you to the elevator that would take you the common room, where the party was being held. Pausing at the door to press the button, he prepared to wait. Of all the new tech and crazy gadgets in the place, the elevator was notoriously slow in comparison. Usually, everyone would just take the stairs, but he didn't want to make the trek more difficult for you in your fancy things. Besides, it afforded you both a little extra time before having to deal with whatever sort of crowd may have gathered. Time apparently needed given the bit of nervousness Bucky sensed in you whenever you turned and began to fiddle with his tie and the lapels of his jacket.

"Hey," he soothed quietly, swiping his thumb tenderly at the soft fabric of the dress at your sides. When you looked up at him, he offered a little grin. "You know if it gets to be too much, you can tell me. We don't gotta stay all night."

"Pretty sure that's my line to you," you scoffed in a gentle tone, but smiled and sighed away some of the tension while your hands smoothed down his waistcoat before you switched subjects. "Y'know, you are so handsome. If you get any of that old swagger back I heard about, I will be out one hell of a boyfriend."

Bucky cocked his head at you, letting out a confused laugh just as the elevator doors opened and you both moved through them. "What the hell you mean by that, crazy person?"

"I mean, you would have the ladies just falling all over you. Surprised you don't now," was your nonchalant reply, settling back against the wall of the elevator car.

"You gotta be kiddin me, doll," he snorted and pressed the necessary button, not wanting to disrupt the conversation with a voice command. Instead, he crowded into your space a little, knowing that as much as it did for him to have you close, it offered you a certain comfort too. And the fact you'd let him be that for you never failed to make his chest feel several sizes bigger than it ought to. "I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'd be damn near certifiable to trade in a gorgeous gal like you."

You rolled your eyes at him affectionately, fingers curled slightly against his suit jacket, but it didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around your waist or leaning in to press his lips to your forehead, brush them reverently along the warmth of your right cheekbone where he always paid special attention. The small sigh you gave when he pulled back a little to look at you made the tip of your nose bump gently against his, had him grinning wide as he quietly added "Besides, I think you know by now you've done domesticated me, sweetheart."

"Oh, yeah," you cooed sweetly, a tinge of mischief in your eyes as you reached up to smooth back some errant hairs that had fallen loose from his bun. "Is that why I'm only getting forehead kisses? Afraid smeared lipstick might let your friends know how wild you got in the elevator?"

"Ah, hell, when you put it that way," Bucky smirked, just about always up to playing into whatever little wickedness overtook you, then ducked his head to kiss you proper.

It wasn't a scorching hot liplock, but there was a quick, sweet thoroughness to it; that you'd both tasted and nibbled and weren't left entirely unsatisfied in the end. Thankfully, there were no other stops along the elevator's ascent to interrupt the two of you. By the time it began to slow toward its destination, Bucky was almost positive his mouth would be ruddied up and he'd have to rush to clean away the evidence. Yet, when he looked down at you, he found your lips still neatly painted in that vibrant red, not a wisp of color out of place. He rubbed absently at his face and his fingers came back clean as well.

"No smudge lipstick," you beamed at him, the tilt of your smirk teasing as you slipped around him to stand at the elevator doors. "It'll take something a lot firmer than those soft lips of yours to mess it up."

A delicious tingle licked up his spine when your meaning finally registered, but the elevator opening on the common room prevented any sort of retort. Jesus, the things you could do to him with hardly any effort at all. The right words, the right tone, the right sway of your hips, and he was gone for you. Even with his brain all Swiss cheese, he knew he'd never been so dizzy over a dame before. And you knew it, too. You had to, because you apparently weren't planning on pulling any punches when you reached back with an adoring smile to grab his hand and pull him out of the elevator.

The place Bucky had become somewhat familiar with was comfortably lit, holiday lights strung up across various surface and along the walls. Snacks and sodas littered the counters, though there was a bar set up with an older, mustached man in large glasses slinging drinks for people. Most of the faces were familiar; teammates and some support crew and staff. Apparently, Tony had kept his word about it being a much smaller affair than the ones Bucky had heard about. Steve and Sam gave you both a quick salute with their beer bottles when they noticed you, but it was Stark, ever the exemplary host, who broke away from the small group he was chatting with to greet the two of you as you drew near.

"Barnes. I see I was right about that tailor I recommended making anyone look good," he quipped in a jovial tone, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Then his attention turned to you with a bright, charming smile and a gracious flourish of his hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Tony Stark and you must be the lovely young lady who I've heard has thawed the old polar bear's heart."

Despite knowing Tony was perfectly happy in his relationship with Ms. Potts, Bucky still chafed just a little at the easy ooze of charm; not really insincere, but something about the smoothness of it serving as a sudden reminder of how difficult for him it had been at the beginning. And it wasn't helped by your grin or the amused hum you gave in contrast to Bucky's quick snort. "You need new material, Stark. Joke's been made before."

"But not by me, and that's what really matters here," Tony countered with a haughty look.

"Mr. Snark- I mean, Stark. Thank you so much for inviting me. I'm so glad to finally meet Bucky's teammates and the place looks fantastic." Your words brought both men's gazes back to you. There was a bit of chagrin to your features, but Bucky caught something devious in your eyes as your thumb swiped sweetly against his. You leaned in just a hair, a conspiratorial tinge to your voice, when you added "But honestly, between you and me, I think I've got the better end of this relationship. I mean, he's a world class assassin. Have you seen what he can do with his bare hands?"

Bucky's heart leapt into his throat; torn between shock at the boldness of your words and being impressed that you'd managed to render Tony Stark momentarily speechless. Stark's eyes had gone a fraction wider, mouth agape, probably not too unlike what Bucky's face looked like if he took a second to think about it. Yet you looked quite pleased with yourself, offering a look of mock sympathy before turning give Bucky an innocent smile and shrug. Damn if he wasn't close to smothering you with a kiss right there, his sharp-tongued gal. But Tony had quickly recovered with a sputtered laugh.

"Oh I like you, you saucy minx. Barnes, I like her. She must be giving you a run for your money," Stark joked once he'd regained some composure. This time, Bucky couldn't help the swell of pride in his chest at the aside. "Come on, you've got to let me introduce you to everyone. I'm sure they'll all love you."

You turned a questioning look on Bucky then. Whether it was asking permission or reassurance or both, he couldn't really say. With a hand at the small of your back, he pulled you in closer to reply quietly. "Go on, sweetheart. I'll grab us a couple drinks and join ya in a minute."

"Okay," you smiled, leaning up to press a quick kiss at the corner of his lips, fingers grasping gently at his lapels only to slip away as you moved to follow behind Tony.

Bucky stood watching for a moment, caught the lingering look you threw him over your shoulder and the deliberate swish to your step he knew was a show meant just for him, before turning toward the bar along the back wall. The bartender was occupied with other orders at the moment, so he stood leaning against the corner to wait patiently. Quick glances around the room to pass the time ended up back on you. At one point, you were shaking hands with Colonel Rhodes, a polite smile gracing your lips that grew more emphatic as Steve and Sam approached the conversation. Yet even though his main focus was on you, he still registered the two people that sidled up to the bar beside him.

"You are so in love with her," a thick, familiar Sokovian accent teased gently just behind his right shoulder.

With a quiet chuckle, Bucky turned to find Wanda and Natasha both already holding a drink and looking very much entertained by him. "Don't take a mind reader to see that one, I suppose."

"It also doesn't take one to know she feels the same way," Natasha replied with an enigmatic smirk that nearly got lost in her glass as she took a drink.

Her gaze darted past him, just a quick flicker, but enough that he followed on instinct. He caught sight of you glancing at him from the little group that had formed around you and Tony. That sweet blush crept across your cheeks when you seemed to notice being caught. Absolutely beautiful. Though Bucky could've socked the guy who passed through his line of sight and broke your eye contact. When he could see you again, your attention was back on the group, though your fingers were playing absently with your collar like his had been earlier that evening back at home, when you oh so sweetly reminded him that admiring your new dress could be done without the use of his hands.

"I've got no idea why," he admitted with a tight smile when he turned back to the two beside him. It had occurred to him to flat out deny Romanoff's statement, but he wasn't sure he could. He wanted to believe it and you made it so easy, even if those dark things in his head tried to say otherwise.

"Obviously she does," Wanda retorted in a laughing tone, not put off in the slightest by his tone. Bucky knew from experience that both women, whether through powers or special training, could read a person better than just about anyone else in the world, so either they were being polite or they were being honest. Either way, Bucky appreciated it.

"Besides, what's not to like, Barnes," Natasha added with what he'd come to realize was her playful tone of voice, only subtly different from her biting sarcasm. "Big broody guy like you? I bet you're an absolute kitten when she gets you alone."

Before he could reply, Wanda was jumping in with her own little smirk. "Do you know what would make a great present to show your affection? Those paintings you hide in your room."

"You ladies been snoopin, huh," Bucky narrowed his eyes at them, but knew from the looks on their faces they were hardly intimidated. Which was fine as far as he was concerned; he was a little more embarrassed than angry that they knew about them. It hadn't really been a secret that he occasionally joined Sam and Steve whenever they set aside time to do artistic things.

"I do not snoop," Maximoff answered matter-of-factly. Natasha, on the other hand, gave a considering tilt to her head before nodding. "I do."

"предателей," Bucky shot back in an amused huff. It brought a round of laughter from them both as he spoke to the bartender who had finally made his way over. "Two double scotch on the rocks, please."

"C'mon, witchie-poo. I'll introduce you to Bucky's lady-love," Natasha prodded gently at Wanda, each of their face still lit up and mischievous. "Maybe take care not to accidentally look inside her head. The way she's been staring at him, I doubt her thoughts are entirely pure."

All Bucky could do for a moment was watch the two pick their way toward you as he waited for his drink order. Romanoff drew your attention with a touch to your shoulder that turned into a half hug before you smiled brightly at Wanda. No doubt the three of you would be fast friends. The little scene warmed something in Bucky's chest. Almost like he might have felt bringing a girl home to meet his family when he was a kid, and everything falling into place. Though when he'd started considering his teammates his family, he really couldn't say.

By the time he rejoined you, Rhodes and the two women had moved on, but Dr. Banner had found his way to the small circle, giving a welcoming tip of his head so as not to interrupt the conversation he and Stark had going about some new tech they'd heard about earlier that day. Bucky handed you one of the glasses which you took with an appreciative smile, moving in closer to him. And you seemed to practically melt into his side when he wrapped his left arm around your back. An act that did not go unnoticed by Wilson, who then elbowed Steve to bring it to his attention. Soon both men were giving Bucky knowing looks, making him roll his eyes in annoyance. Luckily, your attention had been engrossed in the science conversation taking place and the pleasant smile that graced your lips at your first sip.

"Scotch, I see. A woman after my own heart," Tony eventually switched subjects, having finally noticed the addition to his little audience. Bucky got the feeling Steve and Sam had only stayed put during the whole thing to keep you company.

"It's very good," you replied as you raised your glass slightly and leaned even further under Bucky's arm.

"Only the best for my guys. We work hard saving the world from certain destruction, I think that earns us a good drink or two," Stark smiled with a jovial clap to Banner's shoulder. The normally subdued scientist gave just the barest hint of a flinch before raising his own drink in salute, followed by the rest of the small gathering. Then, he turned his attention to Sam, Steve, and Bucky and gave a quick, accusing shake of his finger, though his voice was all flattery. "What I wanna know is, why the Three Amigos here let you stay hidden away from the rest of us for so long. Especially since you've technically been contributing to the team, helping Barnes and all."

Steve opened his mouth, no doubt a diplomatic defense perched at the tip of his tongue, while Wilson seemed content to let the words slide off his back. But Bucky knew you were more than capable of speaking up for yourself, as evidenced when you beat Steve to the punch. "No use in blaming the boys, Mr. Stark. I'm afraid I hid myself away. All of this seemed... a bit out of my league, I guess."

"Tony, please," Stark insisted with a wave of his hand. Bucky braced for a snarky remark or a probing question, something that might put you ill at ease. But the otherwise flamboyant billionaire offered up a sincere smile and his tone grew a little gentler. "Well, I hope you know now that's not the case. Glad we got Barnes to bring you around. Maybe you'll make sure he actually shows up for more non-mission get togethers in the future."

"I'll try my best," you grinned brightly, peeking up at Bucky's face. He could feel the lilt of your laughter tucked close to him and the light dancing in your features made him very happy he'd brought you out, too.

"Good," Tony replied and suddenly it was like a switched was flipped in him, that thrum of energy taking over him again. "But I've monopolized enough of your time already. You and Terminator Two should mingle and I should go see about getting my own glass of scotch."

And like that, Stark was off toward the bar, absently slapping a hand on the back of Steve's bicep as he passed. Rogers just raised an eyebrow and shook his head while he brought his beer bottle up to his lips. "You never know with that guy. He really is a character."

"Pretty sure the same could be said for all of you," you volleyed back with no hesitation. A shit-eating grin spread Steve's face as Wilson and even Bruce chuckled at the retort. And Bucky didn't even give a second thought to pressing a kiss into the hair above your temple, earning him an adoring smile and both your arms wrapped around his waist.

The rest of the night went better than Bucky would have expected. He still wasn't much for small talk even with people he'd grown fairly comfortable with, but he felt he did a decent enough job making remarks and answering questions here and there despite the distracting bustle of the room around him. You, on the other hand, seemed to be engaged in each new person, your voice grounding him in the conversation, whether you were laughing at a joke or excusing yourself for another drink. From Thor and your excited introduction to Dr. Foster and her assistant Ms. Lewis, to Barton, the only member of the team that you seemed remotely starstruck by; Bucky was more captivated with your performance than by anything anyone else really had to say. Though, as the hours rolled on, he noticed some of that energy starting to wane.

"You doin alright, sweetheart" he finally asked, pulling you over toward the bar after running into Wanda again who had suggested possibly joining her and Natasha for yoga and some self-defense lessons sometime.

"Yeah," you nodded with a smile that was a bit tight at the corners. Bucky barely had to raise his eyebrow before you let off a light sigh. "Just a bit draining, is all. Meeting so many new people."

Gentle concern flaring in him, he trailed the back of his knuckles delicately down the curve of your cheek, metal hand curled around your waist, until you leaned into his touch and looked up at him through your eyelashes, some of that weariness melted away. "D'ya wanna head home? Doubt anyone would kick up a fuss if we left now."

"I dunno. It's nice being out of the house, and I think you're enjoying yourself more than you let on," you snickered, fingers tugging affectionately at his suit jacket to close some of the small distance between you.

"Just enjoy spendin time with you, seein you happy," he grinned in counter and took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tracing gently at the curve of your lower lip. Remembering what Natasha and Wanda had been saying when your eyes went all soft and hazy and a rush of color touched your cheeks, making his heart skip a little. "How 'bout we take a break somewhere quiet, figure out if we wanna call it a night?"

Wrapping your arms around his chest to pull yourself flush, you crooned sweetly "You are too good to me sometimes, Bucky Barnes."

"Ain't no such thing when it comes to you, babydoll," he shook his head before planting a kiss on your forehead.

No one said a word when the two of you slipped away from the party. Though, Bucky was sure when he made a sweeping glance of the room Natasha was just looking back to continue talking with Steve and Sam. There was only the slight din of the crowd to be heard and the crisp sound of your heels as he led you to the hallway that housed the smaller living quarters on the same level. Not all of the team kept the facility as their main home and a few, like Nat and Wanda, just liked having smaller rooms. Stark, of course, always needed a big place for himself and despite not living there permanently he kept a whole lower floor dedicated to his rooms, Banner's apartment, a secondary lab (no doubt where Vision had been hiding away during the party,) and a place for whenever Rhodes stayed after a long mission.

But Bucky was leading you to the stairwell at the end of the hall, confident he could see you safely up one flight of steps, even if he had to carry you. Not that he really would've minded. It was one floor up that housed the larger apartments where Steve and Sam had each taken up residence. One of them had been Bucky's when he stayed at the facility and he supposed it technically still was, considering it had not been reassigned or changed since he'd come home to you. Seemed as good a place as any to take you away from the party and make you more comfortable.

"Wow," you mused once inside, lights turning on automatically at the door being open and providing you with a view of the living area. He caught your gaze linger momentarily on the small kitchen area and the two doors off to the side, one wide open and leading to the bedroom, the other one the bathroom. "Is this yours?"

"Sorta. It's where I stayed when..." Bucky trailed off, brushing the stray hairs from his face and rubbing bit nervously at his neck while he settled against the back of the couch. You offered him a soft little smile and an understanding, reassuring squeeze of your hand before venturing from his side a few feet to explore. Saying the place was his was a bit of an overstatement. It had been designated for him, but it was austere and very much how it had come. Nothing personal about it. The TV system, the pots and pans, the bedsheets, even the couch you were running your fingers along had all been provided for. In fact, almost everything that had been his found its way back to your place. All except... "Actually, there's somethin I thought I'd show ya while we're here."

You turned back to him with a curious tilt to your brow. It took only a few steps before you were back in front of him, wrapping your arms around his waist comfortably. "Oh yeah? Whatcha got?"

"It's in the bedroom," he informed, but immediately let out an amused snort when you gave him a mischievous look. Cupping your face in his hands gently, he leaned down to brush a kiss across your lips. "You've been on fire tonight, sweetheart."

"You told me to have fun," was your sweet counter, though your cheeks had tinged with color. "I can tone it down if you want."

"No way," Bucky shook his head with a smirk, kissing you again before standing up straight and shuffling you backwards a bit and letting his mouth linger warm and close to yours. "But I did promise I'd show you this thing if you were real nice. And I guess you've been just about the nicest thing that's ever happened to me, doll."

"Your paintings?" You had stopped him short, face lit up with excitement like he just handed you the world, and the fact you remembered that little tease after all this time and everything that happened clenched something deep in his chest and wouldn't let it go. The delight only seemed to build and break into an enthusiastic bounce when he nodded. "C'mon! Show me!"

With a soft chuckle, Bucky turned you around and ushered you toward the bedroom door. Well, it was a bit more like you were leading him, half a step ahead of him the whole way, but he couldn't complain. The lights turned on in there as well once you passed through the sensors, another innovation Bucky had taken a liking to, thankful he didn't have to talk to a disembodied voice every time he wanted something. It was just as sparse in there as the rest of the apartment, aside from the corner across from the door. There he'd set up shop at a desk with all manner of supplies, now covered in minute splotches of various colors. So many new things had been invented since his day, and he still couldn't name all the different techniques and styles his muscles seemed to remember better than his brain. Everything had been an experiment. Therapeutic, Sam had called it.

You bee-lined right to that corner, a cute sort of eagerness seeming to buzz through you. A hand reached out toward the sketches and small paintings piled there, but paused before looking up at him with barely subdued glee. "Can I?"

"Sure," he nodded gently as he took up the space just behind your left shoulder. His right hand slipped idly at the small of your back; a bit nervous if he were being honest. You'd seen so many bad parts of him, he wanted to share these little things he managed to create, even though all that ever stood out to him were the flaws. Of course, judging by the awed look on your face, you saw right past them. Just like you always seemed to do.

"These are amazing, Bucky," you breathed gently, ruffling carefully through everything. There was a pastoral scene you picked up gingerly by the corner, beaming over at him. The colors on the leaves were slightly off and something about the slope of the ground wasn't quite right, but you didn't seem to notice. "This is the Patterson farm from the highway, isn't it? You've even got the mismatched shingles on the roof!"

Another perusal, face still delighted, and you landed on a sketch in colored pencil he made of the cat. There was something wrong about the angle of the tail that still bothered him, something he knew he should be able to fix, but couldn't think of how. Still, you made a soft little squeal under your breath. "Awww, Potato. Y'know, I think you've been giving her too many treats again."

"Tryin-a make up for lost time," Bucky countered innocently when you gave him a sideways look of accusation. The smirk at the corner of your lips let him know he probably wasn't in too much trouble for it.

"Uh-huh," was your unconvinced response, jostling your shoulder back against his chest lightly. He pressed a kiss there by way of apology and reveled in the soft fabric under his lips until you gave a gentle gasp. "Bucky, is this...?"

Peering over your shoulder, he saw you holding an unfinished work he started just before his first mission; you being the subject. It was a rough sketch he'd started to refine, a bit of shading here and there, but no color. Part of it was from the photobooth picture kept somewhere on him at nearly all times, part of it was from memory. The one of you in the kitchen after you let him stay in bed with you, face half-lit by the morning sun in the window as you brought him coffee. "Yeah, s'pose ta be you, alright. Though there's no way I've done ya any justice."

"It's beautiful," you argued quietly, head tilted as you regarded the sketch a moment longer before replacing it on the desk. There was a teasing quality to your voice when you added "I dare say, I never looked so good."

"Ah, come off it. You know you're absolutely gorgeous," Bucky snorted in amusement while his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. Skimming his lips along the exposed skin of your neck made you shiver slightly, made him grin goofy into the hair just behind your ear. "You're like walking poetry, dollface."

The disgusted groan you gave had your head falling back onto his shoulder. He could just see the heavy roll of your eyes, your deep chuckle matching his own. "Oh my god, Bucky! Seriously? Alright, Romeo, what Shakespeare line are you gonna spout off?"

"Nah, not Shakespeare. Byron," he informed matter-of-factly, feeling the broad smile tugging at his lips when your right hand moved to cover his fingers at your stomach and your left reached up and back to smooth across his cheek. It really had been Byron stuck in his head the day after the both of you had gone dancing, when he thought you would turn him away, but you'd only managed to further surprise him with just how kind and caring you were. Ate at him for the longest time, not being able to remember the words. They came back, though, at least part of them, anyway. "She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes. Thus mellow'd to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies."

"Always such a sweet talker," you sighed dreamily once Bucky finished murmuring the stanza into the crook of your neck, the gentle shudder up your spine not going unnoticed by him. He loosened his grip when you moved to turn in his arms. Fingers of one hand catching at his lapels, the other stroking absently along his tie, you pressed in close to him with a devilish little gleam to your eyes. "Tell ya what, I had a surprise I was gonna give you when we got home. But you've been so wonderful tonight, maybe I could give it to you now."

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, Bucky couldn't help the smirk that overtook him as he leaned in for a quick kiss. "A surprise, huh? What kinda surprise?"

"Go close the door and I'll show you," was your cheeky answer planted along his jaw before you nipped there playfully.

It took a few heartbeats before Bucky could finally muster up the gumption to pull away from you, all the soft fabric and softer skin anchoring him to the spot. Eventually, you shoved at him gently, giggling as his fingers ghosted down your ribs. With a frustrated groan and a put-upon roll of his eyes, he stepped away to do what you'd asked. The door was barely pushed to when he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper behind him, making him freeze momentarily. Hell, but you were a spitfire sometimes. He had expected as much, as sassy as you'd been all night. Though there was always something a bit thrilling about you getting all frisky someplace that wasn't the bed you shared, even if it was still a bedroom, just somewhere else.

Admittedly a bit cocky if he were asked, Bucky slid the lock on the door before turning around. He'd seen you in various states of undress at this point, but it hardly prepared him for the sight of you then, making him inhale sharply, catching his lower lip between his teeth, guts swimming, the doorknob nearly crumpling under the sudden constriction of his metal hand. No wonder you'd been so bold with him all night; if he'd known what was going on under that dress of yours, he would've dragged you from the party hours ago. There you stood, dress draped over the desk chair, wearing a black bra with a hint of frills, small bow between the cups like a gift begging to be unwrapped. An equally dark, lacy garter belt slung low on your waist, satin stays holding up silk stockings, reminding him of when he'd caught you in the hall; still fantasy fodder to this day. Those high heels still in place and accentuating every curve. Yet the real kicker had to be the decided lack of any material at all to cover the juncture of your thighs.

"You just gonna let me keep standing here all awkward," you asked with an amused huff, but there were uncertainty in your voice. As if you didn't know exactly what you were doing to him just by standing there like that.

The combination of that sultry get-up and the almost innocent flush that deepened your cheeks did something to Bucky he couldn't put words to. Absently, he swiped his right hand over his mouth, half-expecting to be drooling all over himself. It was dry though, his lips, mouth, throat. He had to wet them as he advanced towards you. Each step measured, a small part of him afraid that even after all this time you might disappear or shy away, everything about you still so unreal, too good to be believed, too good for him. But you didn't move an inch. Just waited for him, your breath hitching when he was finally close enough to touch along the exposed skin of your stomach, gliding around your waist.

"Jesus, what'd a bum like me ever do to deserve you, sweetheart," he whispered, lips just inches from yours.

"Just lucky, I guess," you breathed warm across his skin. "And that makes two of us."

Then your lips were on his in a kiss slightly needier than he had expected. But he let himself fall into it, teeth and tongue meeting yours measure for measure, hot and hungry. He itched to touch you all over, maybe for the hundredth time, each one feeling as exciting as the first. You had other plans though. Delicate hands slid slowly up his chest, gliding under his suit jacket to press the fabric over and down his shoulder. He was forced to break away to take it off completely. It joined your dress across the chair. Your fingers worked at loosening his tie next, untucking it from his waistcoat. The kiss you gave him was softer then, sweeter, yet no less enticing. The way you grinned into it stuttered in his heart. Once it was discarded with the rest, you moved back in again, fingertips dancing along the buttons of his waistcoat but he stayed you a moment. With his hands cupping your face, he tried to catch his breath as he regarded you. Seemed damn near impossible.

Your eyes were dark and a little hazy, but the smile on your deep red, kiss-swollen lips was all warmth when you gave a gentle laugh. "What?"

"You know what, doll," he smirked, thumbs slipping lazily over your cheeks. "You know exactly what."

"Nope, you're gonna have to tell me," you insisted with the slightest shake of your head. Your fingers had slowly started up again on those buttons, gaze never leaving his.

It seemed a lot easier to just show you, yet you were right. Sometimes a thing needed to be said to make it real, to give it extra substance, to remember. "I love you, sweetheart. And not just 'cause you're the prettiest damn thing I ever laid eyes on."

"I love you, too, Bucky," you replied, the slight quiver in your voice barely hidden by the mischievous raise of your eyebrow. "Don't get all gussied up like this for just anyone."

"I hope not," he chuckled low while leaning in to press kisses along your jaw and down the arc of your neck. Metal plates and calloused fingers alike caught on delicate fabric as he finally let his hands roam your body like he wanted. He shuddered involuntarily when your nails found his scalp, the sigh that escaped you little more than a vibration felt on his lips at your throat. "Hope I'm the last man ever gets to see you this way. All flushed and soft and sweet for me."

"If you treat me real good tonight, maybe you will be," you teased, tugging at his hair just right to make him gasp and force him to meet your gaze. "Maybe I'll even do that thing with my tongue you like so much."

"Christ, baby, you're killin me here," he groaned at the thought. But the discomfort in slacks took a backseat to the sound of your stuttering gasp against his cheek when he sought a little revenge, right hand cupping gently between your legs, letting his fingers press along already slick skin. He couldn't help a bit of the triumph in his voice. "Don't I always treat you real good, sugar?"

"Yeah, Buck. Yeah," you moaned gently, eyes half-lidded as you pulled him in for another kiss, deep and thorough.

The wetness at his fingertips and the way you ground down at his hand nearly had Bucky then and there. He was just about to bend low, lift you up against him, and carry you to the bed when suddenly a familiar sound chimed from his pocket. Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. God damn it, and god damn Wilson for setting that as Steve's ringtone on his cell phone. When you stilled against him, Bucky let out an angry snort. "Just ignore it, sweetheart."

"No, answer it," you countered, eyes still a little glassy and fluttering shut when his fingers slid along your sensitive skin while you pulled away from him. But you gave him an understanding look, a bit of a smile. "It's Steve. You know you'll worry if you don't check it out. Besides, I'm not going anywhere."

You were right, as usual. As annoying as it was to be so rudely interrupted, he was a little anxious to find out what was going on. He growled a little under his breath, pulling you back for quick kiss. "You better not go anywhere. Not finished with you yet, dollface. Not by a long shot."

Your finger came up to mark an "x" over your heart, smirk dancing over your lips as you moved to sit at the edge of the bed. Taking out his phone, Bucky turned away, more than a little agitated while working at shrugging off his waistcoat one handed. His annoyance flared even worse when he pulled up the missed text.

"Guess you two decided to stay the night? haha"

One of these days, Bucky swore to himself, he was gonna slap that little shit right upside the back of his head. He was fairly certain no one would try to stop him. Probably not even Sam, maybe the only other person in the world who knew how much of a menace Steve Rogers could be if given half a chance. Rolling his eyes, Bucky quickly typed out a response.

"Mind your own damn business you overgrown, patriotic turtle. Same goes for your fine feathered friend."

Assured the message was on its way, he tossed the phone none too gracefully on the desk just in time to hear the bedsprings shifting behind him. And all the ire was driven from him in one quick, lungful of air at the sight of you crawling up the blanket toward his pillow, pausing to glance at him over your shoulder, lips tucked between your teeth and bowing your back just a little to give him a show. The phone chimed again, but fuck if he could hear it over the rush of blood in his ears as he tugged the rest of his clothes off to join you.