Ten days could feel like a lifetime. In Bucky's case, maybe even more. Ten days of concerned looks from Steve, Sam, the other teammates, you. You with the swelling in your face receding, still hobbling a little on your feet no matter how much he tried to get you to sit. Ten days of checking in on your progress almost constantly, but barely being able to meet your gaze as bloody, visceral memories came flooding back. Ten days of little sleep from the nightmares and feeling guilty every time you reached a bandaged hand over from your side of the bed in the middle of the night to comfort him. He would have moved out to the couch so you could rest easier, except he knew you wouldn't. He knew you wanted him there and he wanted to be there in case you really needed him, in case your own dreams turned dark and violent. Ten days of bustling doctors studying the notebook, long and grueling sessions with Wanda, and his own grim determination, and the words no longer worked the same as they did before, no longer ripped him away from himself entirely. Not everything they put in was gone and not everything they took out was regained, but it was a start.
In the midst of those ten days, Natasha and Clint managed to ferret out information on the HYDRA detail that attacked the house. They were able to pinpoint their closest base of operations and took recon pictures to bring back to the team. A few of the photos were disturbingly familiar to Bucky, the sight of them giving way to more buried images in his head, information toppling into place like dominoes. It was that revelation, how going after one base might lead to the next and the next for him, which made up his mind on what he had to do. His initial thought was to sneak off alone and take out anything and everything he could without endangering any of his teammates, but he'd made a promise to you. That and Steve still knew him better than he realized. The argument that ensued was only quelled when he reluctantly agreed to take Wilson and Maximoff along after they volunteered to accompany him. But telling you about this new mission, especially so soon after what happened; that was the most difficult part. Because even though you eventually talked about it together, when he came back to the apartment after the meeting to tell you, all you did was stare at him a few moments before giving a small nod and wrapping your arms around his waist to bury your face in his chest.
The night before they were set to leave, Bucky stuck around the quinjet assigned for the mission, yet another equipment check occupying his mind and helping him ignore the no doubt concerned looks from Sam and Wanda as they retired for the evening. He reasoned he didn't need much sleep, and the flight to the first HYDRA base could afford him even more time to recharge, but deep down, he knew the truth. It was his last night with you, probably for a while, maybe even... No, if he wouldn't let you think like that he wouldn't let himself. Not this time. There wasn't a thing in the universe that would keep him from coming home to you one way or another. Still, as much as he itched to be with you, a part of him wasn't sure he could bear the sadness and pain he was certain he'd see in your eyes when the two of you parted in the morning.
An echo of footfalls behind him pulled Bucky from his thoughts. The sound itself was familiar enough now, despite distant memories of a much different gait, that he didn't even need to look to know Steve was approaching up the ramp. "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"
"Making sure everything's squared away," Bucky replied, closing the weapons locker firmly before turning around to find his friend standing in civilian garb. "One less thing to hold us up in the morning."
Steve nodded with a glance around the interior of the quinjet, shoulder leaning against the entryway. Of course, he had more he wanted to say and Bucky braced himself for a renewed fight because if one thing never changed about Steve Rogers, super soldier serum or no, it was that he didn't let things go easily. Sure, he could pack it away for a while, but if there was still a chance he could get his way, he wasn't going to drop it. Bucky's suspicions were confirmed when Steve opened his mouth again, trying to make himself sound almost meek. "This mission's gonna be a tough one. Sure you couldn't use an extra set of hands?"
"I'm sure," was Bucky's gruff counter as he moved to brush past Steve on his way out of the quinjet. "I'm only takin Wilson and Maximoff to shut you up in the first place. And don't think I don't know why they're the ones that volunteered. Not everything's back in my head right and they're worried it's gonna get fucked all over again. Can't say I blame 'em."
"C'mon, Buck, they just wanna help," Rogers tried to soothe, though his tone was slightly strained in exasperation. "Same as I do."
"Goddamn it, Steve. It's bad enough I'm gonna be worryin about my girl every other second, last thing I need is to be distracted lookin after your reckless ass the times in between!" Bucky turned on his heel to face his friend, but any further tirade died on his lips at the somewhat wounded expression he found Steve sporting. The guilt there was all too familiar; a feeling that sometimes hung heavy between them, both sides trying to make up for it in their own ways. With a heavy sigh, Bucky continued in a more even tone, hoping Rogers would finally get it through his thick skull. "This is how you help me, okay? I don't know how long we'll be gone or how far this whole thing will take us. I don't know what could happen. I need to know there's someone here that can protect her while I can't. She means the world to me, Steve. And there's no one I trust more than you to keep her safe."
There was a moment's pause where it seemed like he might question or argue further, but then, as if by some small miracle, Steve closed his mouth with a thoughtful nod. He gave a defeated sigh, smile tight as he propped his hands at his hips and replied "Okay, Buck. Of course. I won't let anything happen to her."
Although plenty more could have been said on the subject, there was hardly enough time for all that and Bucky didn't have the inclination. Instead, he gave an appreciative duck of his head by way of thanks. It was enough between them; that much he'd been able to remember on his own. Anything else was understood or could wait. Yet, something remained he couldn't put off much longer, no matter how difficult he knew it would be, and he had just about worked up the gumption to face it when the door opened up to the hangar.
"Tony," Steve questioned by way of greeting as Stark came striding in, dressed-down and noisily twirling a ratchet wrench in his hand with one of his robots carrying a toolbox in tow. "I didn't know you were at the compound."
Neither did Bucky. If he had known, he might have high-tailed it back to the apartment much sooner to avoid a chance meeting with the last person he thought he could face that week. Too late now. He shifted uncomfortably as Tony approached, eyes locked on him curiously. "Pep's headed out of town on a business trip. Thought I'd personally make sure the quinjet was tuned up and ready to go... Shouldn't you be ravishing your lady love before you go gallivanting off at first light or something?"
"I was headin that way in a minute," Bucky replied with a slight nod. He reached up to run a hand through his hair. Nervous didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling at this unplanned encounter with Stark. Yet, maybe it was for the best because it forced him to deal with another thing that had been troubling him. "But maybe... maybe we should talk."
"If it's about your arm, you should be fine," Tony waved him off as he headed past the two super soldiers toward the quinjet. He threw another look back over his shoulder as he reached the ramp, gesturing with the tool in his hand toward Bucky's metal arm. "No one's controlling that mechanical marvel but you anymore. I threw a jammer in there so no one can gain remote access."
Bucky clenched and released his metal digits at the memory of Stark tinkering around in the bicep access point. He hadn't trusted the Winter Soldier at all yet, Barnes really couldn't blame him, but he still took the time to help. Probably for Steve's sake, or some sense of duty. Either way, it made what Bucky had to say that much more difficult. It wasn't enough that HYDRA made a cold-blooded murderer of him, setting him loose on an old acquaintance after stripping him of the few fond recollections he had from a bleak time of war; circumstance played just as cruel, putting him in the path of that same man's son and giving him all those memories back. And if Tony wanted him gone after this mission, well, Bucky wouldn't blame him for that either. He was just banking on that the same sense of duty, or at least Steve's urging, meant you'd still be kept safe at the compound.
"It ain't about the arm," he sighed heavily with a shake of his head. There was no going back now. For all the tension between them, Tony deserved to hear the truth from his own mouth. "It's about the… the memories I've been gettin back."
Judging from the split second of shock that crossed his friend's face, instantly swallowed up by a determined set to his jaw and a sorrowful glance at the other man, Steve knew exactly what was about to happen and decided to plant himself right there to see it through. Solidarity, Bucky supposed, though he hardly felt worthy of it. Apparently, Tony had figured it out too, because he stopped dead in his tracks half way up the entrance ramp, so quickly the robot at his feet took an extra beat to come to a halt. He went relatively still, save his fingers jostling the tool he held in agitation, before turning around with mock casualness that didn't reach his face, chin tilted up and features cautious.
Taking a deep breath, Bucky wet his lips nervously before he began. How does a person even start a conversation like this? "Howard... your parents..."
"Don't." Tony's rough croak barely matched the severe, thin-lipped grimace as he shook his head vehemently. His knuckles had turned white around the wrench and Bucky was both alert and resigned to the idea of a physical backlash. No doubt Steve was, too. But Stark only closed his eyes tightly for a moment, gesturing slightly with his free hand while taking a few harsh breaths. "Just... don't."
"Tony," Steve began, urging and placating all at once. Leave it to him to butt in on Bucky's behalf even when it wasn't entirely necessary. Though Barnes was maybe more grateful for the gesture than he'd ever let Rogers know. "Maybe you should listen to what he has to say."
"No, you listen," Tony ground out harshly as he shot Steve a scathing glance. Bucky felt himself lurch on reflex, the muscle memory of dozens of times when he would put himself between Steve and the trouble he drew in like a magnet. The instinct made keener this time since the backlash should be his alone to bear. But Stark seemed to bite back on his anger, his jaw working for a moment as he regarded both men before some of the tension left him. Some, but certainly not all. "Look, I knew the possibilities when we brought SubZero here onto the team. I don't need to hear it. I don't want to hear it."
With that, Stark turned on his heel to continue up the quinjet's ramp, trying to seem casual again and failing miserably. But Bucky couldn't let it end at just that. Maybe Sam would say he needed it off his chest, closure, but more importantly, Tony deserved something. "Okay, but just… lemme say one thing. In case I don't get a chance to later, alright?"
This earned another glaring look from Stark, but he remained silent as he turned his attention back. Bucky was damn near close to squirming under the scrutiny, though the unease was the least he deserved. Instead, he took a breath before he began. "Howard - your dad - I knew him. Maybe we weren't best pals, and maybe my brain's still stuck on static half the time, still I got to know him a little between missions with the Howlies. He wasn't perfect, but he was a genius and he wanted to make the world a better place. And… well… all those good parts'a him, I see in you. Times ten, if I'm bein honest."
A rousing speech, it was not. But it was what he had and he hoped it came off better than it sounded in his own head. Hoped it was well-received in the spirit with which it was given. Bucky chanced a quick look at Steve behind him, only to find his friend watching the scene play out with a cautious gaze. When he looked back, Tony had his head cocked with a strange, guarded expression before his brow creased and the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly.
"Is this… Are you trying to have a moment with me, Barnes? Is that what this is," Stark asked, gesturing back and forth between the two of them with a flourish and a slight shake of his head. Bucky was confused for a moment until Tony's eyebrows crooked up in that tell-tale sign of snark and he seemed to relax back into himself a little. "Because last I checked, we're both spoken for and I really don't think you could handle a man like me."
"Ten times the cocky ass attitude, too. Holy shit," Bucky mumbled the expletive through a chuckle as he pinched the bridge of his nose. A glance over his shoulder revealed Steve just managing to rein in a smile as he ducked his head to hide it. Looking back, Tony let go of a gentle huff, half-hearted smirk and unaffected facade seeming slightly more genuine. Bucky knew firsthand how cracking a joke could lighten not just the mood of a room, but the weight someone might be carrying, if only for a short time.
"How about this, Robocop," Tony called out, finally entering the quinjet and taking the wrench in his hand to a panel near the entryway, his eyes never leaving his work. "You get back here in one piece and we can discuss things like civilized adults; with a bottle of scotch even older than you and lots of manly tears."
All Bucky could do for a moment was nod, caught off guard by the suggestion and the elusive idea that maybe one day he could be forgiven. It was one thing for Steve and Sam, for you, for anyone to tell him it wasn't his fault, but quite another for someone made victim, even by association, from the monstrous things he'd done to show him something close to understanding and friendship. Eventually, he managed to choke out through the tightness in his throat "Sure, Stark. It's a date."
Tony shot him an annoyed look, though maybe there was a hint of amusement in his features before returning to the panel. "In the meantime, Encino Man and I will make sure that little spitfire of yours stays nice and safe, out of harm's way. Speaking of whom, don't you think you ought to be tending that flame about now?"
"Don't gotta tell me twice," Bucky chuckled weakly, feeling his gut twist in time with the flutter of his chest. "And thanks, Tony."
Stark made a noise in the affirmative, waving him off haphazardly as he quickly became engrossed in his project, muttering either to himself or the task at hand. A clear dismissal that Bucky didn't even really mind. When he turned back, he shared a quick nod with his friend, hoping it conveyed his appreciation well enough for the moment. And it must have, as Steve gave a warm, lop-sided smirk, almost reassuring, and nodded in kind before Bucky headed out of the hangar.
The compound was quiet, everyone either gone out or hunkered down for the evening. It felt almost stifling, though Bucky was certain that had more to do with his nerves than anything else. He opted for the stairs to reach his floor, the elevator notoriously slow in comparison to him or Steve on foot. You'd been kept waiting long enough. Besides, the motion of his steps offered a slight distraction from the churning inside him. Still the staircase didn't last forever, and by the time he reached the apartment door, he had to take a moment and a deep breath, trying to school his features some before he even touched the doorknob. You didn't need to see him so nervous, not when it would compound your own worry.
There was the slightest hope that you had fallen asleep while you waited for him. Of course he knew you wanted to spend these last hours with him, but he couldn't deny the appeal of seeing you resting peacefully, of scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom where he could lay with you tucked against him until the morning, commit the sound of your breathing and the scent of your hair to memory all over again to see him through the mission ahead. All that would have to wait though, because before the door was even open all the way he could hear the scrape of a kitchen stool across tile, letting him know you were awake.
"Bucky," you called out quietly, hope and concern in your voice at once. It sounded like he felt and he found some relief in that, but there was hardly any time to dwell on it when he saw you in your soft cotton nightgown get up from the kitchen island to move toward him, trying to avoid the cat darting around your feet.
"Hey, hey, whoa! It's okay, sweetheart. Sit back down," he urged gently as he rushed to meet you. It had been a battle with you to take it easy ever since the two of you came to the compound. The swelling had gone down and the bruises and bandages had begun to disappear, but he could tell pain lingered in the slight hobble you tried to hide and the determined furrow to your brow.
"I'm fine, really. The doctor told me to start moving around more, remember," you assured, though your hands gripped his open arms and let him take some of your weight. When you cleared your throat and looked up at him, the sickly, sallow splotch along your cheekbone made his heart sink. "Is everything ready for when you… for tomorrow?"
"All loaded and waiting to roll out in the morning," Bucky replied, holding your elbows carefully and trying to keep his tone neutral, somewhat pleasant even.
You managed to give him a small smile, tight and almost reaching your eyes, putting on just as awkward a show as he was trying to. "Are you hungry? I could make you something."
"Nah, don't worry about that. I ate something with Sam and Wanda, goin over mission specs and everything this afternoon…" He trailed off when he noticed your face start to fall. Something like hurt flashed across your features, cutting Bucky to the quick before you were able to hide it again.
"Oh. Okay," you nodded weakly as you slid your hands from him to stand on your own. "I had a late lunch anyway. Nat and Clint were kind enough to invite me along."
It wasn't until you turned back to the counter, closing a familiar cookbook that migrated from the house to the apartment, that it dawned on him just how thoughtless he'd been. Lunch, dinner; the meals themselves weren't the issue. It was the connection they always provided, from when he first met you to before and after every mission that took him away from you. You were violently uprooted from your home with little to show for it still but some clothes, a few books, a cat who just now started coming out of hiding, and him; the man who was supposed to be taking care of you. Sure, he checked up on you throughout the day, made sure you were healing, but in his own damned foolishness, his own cowardice to face you, he never stopped long enough to just be there with you despite knowing how much you worry, how much you'd been through.
"M'sorry, sweetheart. I should'a been here. I should'a...," he began quietly, but was cut off by you turning back to face him with a pacifying wave of your hand.
"Honestly, it doesn't matter," you shook your head and let your hand drop to your side. "I'm just glad you came to see me tonight at all."
That stung him, and deservedly so in his opinion, shame searing hot on his face and clogging his throat until he was able to swallow it enough to speak again, tongue swiping at the dryness of his lips. "I promised I'd never leave without saying goodbye again."
"I know, but you've been distant with me for a while now. Ever since we got here. I wasn't too sure." Your humorless chuckle died almost immediately, fell into a quake of your lower lip that you bit into as your shoulders slumped and you sighed wetly. Whatever fear or self-loathing doubt that kept Bucky rooted to his spot all this time wasn't strong enough to stay him any longer. Not when it looked like you were about to crumple in on yourself with your eyes rimmed in red and tears dancing at the corners. He went to hold your face in his hands, hesitating before slipping metal fingers across your unbruised cheek. And it would never cease to amaze him how you melted into the unnatural touch of it or eased when he crowded into your space instead of cowering as you looked up at him, sniffling before you spoke again. "I know you've been taking care of a lot of things. Trying to get your head straight. Planning a mission. I just… I miss you. You're not even gone yet and I miss you, Bucky. So much."
"Tell me to stay and I will. I'll scrub the whole damn mission if you need me here." Bucky's reply came out in a rush of words, desperate for you to understand he meant it. "I'd do that for you, sweetheart. I'd do anything for you."
Another sniffle and you gave a small, resolute shake of your head, though your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt held a fine tremble that ached in his chest. "Of course I don't want you to go, Bucky. But you need to do this. And not just to protect me. You need to do this for you, to help you heal. I could never ask you to give that up. I was just hoping tonight…"
"What is it, baby? What were you hoping," he asked when you bit into your lower lip, obviously trying to clamp down on whatever thought had been going through your mind. Pressing his metal palm to your jaw, trying to physically lift your fallen gaze back to his face proved fruitless.
"It's nothing," you said quietly. Your hands slid from his shirt and idly smoothed down the fabric from where they'd held on. "It's really not important right now."
"No. Don't do that. Don't you dare," Bucky chided softly, daring to rest flesh fingers at the curve of your waist while he inched a little closer. He heard and felt the quiet hitch in your breath even as your eyes caught his fleetingly. "If you thought it, it's important. It's important to me."
"It sounds really selfish compared to everything you're going through, but…" you began as you covered his hand with your own where it rested at your cheek. A light flush colored your skin and you looked embarrassed when you spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "This is the first time you've really touched me since what happened."
Guilt twisted in Bucky's gut and he had to force his hands to stay right where they were. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it in all that time. There were little moments where he'd made to reach out, touch your hair, brush his fingers along the inside of your wrist, press a kiss to the crook of your neck. But then your bruises would stand out or you would wince in discomfort from some small movement and he was reminded that he was the cause of all your pain. The cut on your cheek from before had been one thing; eating him up inside for so long. He watched it heal in time with parts of himself, though like the scar, no matter how faint it became the damage would always be there. Yet, to see the violence of his past come screaming back at him to paint itself across your body in vivid colors, purple and red, was too much. How could he take comfort in you when you were suffering because of him?
"You were injured, needed time to heal," he countered, though it sounded like a feeble excuse even in his own ears.
"Dr. Cho cleared me for most activities days ago, you know that. And besides, that wasn't stopping you from… from holding me or kissing me," you replied, letting your hand fall from his. Your eyes slipped closed and you took a deep breath, seeming to steady yourself with a furrow of your brow. "If you don't want to… If you don't want me anymore…"
"What," he startled out. The idea that you of all people, the woman he loved, that his brain conjured dreams of when it felt truly at peace, could feel unwanted by him was almost enough to knock the wind out of him. "How could you ever think that, sweetheart? Christ, it feels like that's all I ever do is want you. But hell if I deserve you, especially now, after all this."
Bucky brought his right hand up, hesitating a split second before gingerly resting his palm along your jaw, thumb ghosting over the bruise at your cheekbone. A sympathetic wince scrunched his nose when you turned into his touch, but it melted away when your eyes finally met his again, brow furrowed and teeth scraping along your lower lip. "What do I deserve then?"
"Are you kiddin me, doll? You deserve a whole hell of a lot better than me." He shook his head, disbelieving, something in him feeling half-hysterical that you even had to ask. "You deserve the world."
"And all I really want is you," was your quiet response and the sadness and longing in your voice tore at his insides. "You're leaving tomorrow for who knows how long… maybe even forever…"
"Baby-" he tried to soothe, but you continued undeterred, silencing him with the plea in your eyes.
"But it's you I want, Bucky. I just want you to be with me one last time before you go. Really with me."
He regarded you silently a moment, trying to process, trying to accept what you were saying to him. There had been comfort in your closeness and your touch almost from the beginning, before he even recognized that feeling again, when he was afraid even breathing too loud would have you sending him packing. That same fear had crept up on him once more, the same dark voice that reminded him of what he'd done and what he was still capable of. Except it was amplified by every cut and bruise that marred your skin. So he denied himself the comfort that you came to embody for him. He never thought his self-imposed punishment could affect you so much. The idea that after all the pain and blood and death you could need his touch as badly as he needed yours was mystifying. Yet there he stood, cupping your face delicately in his hands. No trace of fear or loathing in your eyes. There was only want, need, love; your soft features watching him expectantly, drowning out the darkness in his mind.
The kiss was only meant to be a brief, chaste thing; a reassurance that he was there now. It started out that way, at least. But then you opened up beneath his lips, gentle breath pulling him in deeper, until your bodies curved into each other like they were meant to. Lost in the sweet familiar taste of you, Bucky almost forgot there had been so many days and so much distance between you both. It was indescribably easy, absolutely perfect to have only you filling every single one of his senses. When you finally parted, but only barely, your breath on his skin was as rapid and fluttery as his heartbeat.
"Please, Bucky," you whispered and he knew exactly what you were asking of him by the soft, breathless little whine in your voice that still sent a shiver down his spine no matter how many times he heard it.
"Ya gonna let me make love to you slow, sweetheart? All soft and sweet like?" He sounded rough and gravelly in his own ears, your faces still close enough his lips grazed yours as he spoke. "Let me take my time so I can savor every moment I got with you tonight?"
The slight hitch of your breath when you gave a small nod had the corners of his lips quirking up just a fraction. You seemed to find your voice as his left hand slipped from your face to find the small of your back, holding you close as you trembled against him. "Yes, Bucky. Anything you want."
"My sweet girl," he sighed at the flush that colored your cheeks as his right thumb glided reverently along your plump lower lip, teasing it out from between your teeth. He gripped the very tip of your chin before molding his mouth to yours again.
Then, in one quick move, Bucky scooped you up into his arms bridal style to carry you to the bedroom. The little noise you made as your arms slung around his neck held less of your usual surprise he'd come to enjoy and more relief. He tried not to wonder if that was because you were pleased to get your way or if your poor, torn up soles had been aching again. That did give him an idea, though, and once he'd deposited you carefully on the mattress he plied you with a few more quick kisses before shifting down the bed to kneel at your feet.
Seeing you laying there in your simple nightgown and fluffy socks, it was difficult, and painful, to imagine all that you'd been through that harrowing night ten days ago. Dr. Cho patched you up and gave you something to calm your nerves not long after the quinjet reached the compound. You were afforded several hours of sleep… or rather, you passed out for several hours as Bucky stood watch over you. Then came the debrief, where Bucky sat beside you and listened as you relayed what happened, equal parts proud of your tenacity and sick at the thought of every injury, every time someone laid their hands on you in malice. And now he silently cursed himself again for not coming back to you sooner, because once he'd gotten past that fear and guilt of seeing you tonight, he wanted nothing more than to tend to each and every wound and spend hours, days, the rest of his life making it up to you.
Metal fingers curling around your left ankle, Bucky lifted your foot from the mattress and carefully removed your sock. While the cuts to your soles bled heavily for a long while and needed minor stitching in a few spots, luckily there was no sign of permanent damage. Still, they weren't entirely healed and ached when you stood too long. He ran his thumb gingerly over the clean bandage wrap, remembering the scene he discovered of broken glass and spilled coffee and the motionless bodies of two men that had come for him but found you first, before he gently pressed his lips into the arch of your foot.
It was a spot he knew to be sensitive, ticklish even when handled properly, but the slight flinch of your muscles had him glancing up at your face, worried that he'd caused you pain. When he found no discomfort, only a curious fascination to your smile, Bucky moved his hand to cup behind your knee and peppered a few light kisses up your calf. A disgusted groan had him stilling suddenly, his gaze shooting up to you again in concern.
This time, your forearm was thrown over your eyes with a cringe scrunching your nose. "I haven't shaved my legs in forever."
"Me neither," he huffed into your thigh just above your knee, amused, relieved.
And then you laughed. A real, honest to goodness laugh that shook your whole body and had Bucky lifting his head to catch you covering your face with your hands. It was a summer rain after too long a dry spell, finding every arid crack and breathing life back into him. It was so goddamn beautiful it made Bucky's heart stutter against the fullness in his chest. Because if you could still laugh like that, at some stupid comment he made, after all that happened to you, then he knew everything in the world could be right again.
Your giggle was starting to subside as he managed to work the hem of your shirt up over your hips, but was cut off abruptly when he settled between your legs to bury a kiss in the bend of your thigh at your left hip. That sweet little spot he remembered from the very first time he made love to you, the one that could still earn him a gentle gasp. This time was no different and there was a comfort in that and in the feel of your fingers brushing the hair back from his face to caress lovingly along his cheek. Bucky sighed into your skin at the sweet, familiar gesture, a source of comfort since the very beginning. Reaching up, he cupped the back of your hand with his own metal palm so he could brush his lips against the inside of your wrist, noting the racing heartbeat beneath your skin. Then he turned your hand over to lavish some affection on your tender knuckles.
"What are you doing," you asked, playfulness lilting your voice as your fingers wound into his hair.
"What's it look like I'm doin?" With a mischievous smirk, Bucky pushed your nightgown further and further up your torso until the muted bruise along your ribs was exposed. He nosed carefully along the splotch just beneath your left breast where you'd fallen hard in the snow after creating a distraction for him to fight back, but he wouldn't let the memory of fear and worry completely pull the smile from him now as he looked up at your beautiful face, safe and sound with him. "I gotta kiss all your booboos, sweetheart. Make'm feel better."
The warm chuckle you gave turned into a sigh with a hitch of your breath when Bucky continued his ascent, drawing the fabric in his hands up over the swell of your breasts. His tongue laved sweet over a nipple, gentle suction puckering the sensitive bud, and he hummed contently at the needy way you arched toward his mouth. He didn't linger, though, instead leaning back up enough to strip off his shirt. Of course, you were a bit eager and hastily tried to follow suit, but the slight wince that crossed your face had him catching your nightgown before it even made it past your elbows, lowering you down to the bed again.
"Easy now. Just lie back, baby," Bucky coaxed, lips brushing gently along your discolored cheekbone while his hands finally pulled the shirt from you to toss aside. "Slow, remember? Wanna pretend like we've got all the time in the world together."
"We do, Bucky," was your quiet reply, though he felt almost dizzy at the promise in your words and your soft smile.
His mouth found yours in the same breath as your fingers laced through his hair. The kiss was languid and careful, not wanting to disturb the small, healing cuts left from your teeth when you'd been struck. Another lingering kiss dropped to the barely there scar on your right cheek before he moved his way back down along your jaw and neck. He took his time at your collarbone, relishing the subtle little movements you made against him in your eagerness, how your chin tilted up, the way your fingers scratched absently at his scalp when he tasted at your pulse point. You loved him and you needed him and you wanted him… it was enough to make a man giddy.
"Though, you know," you mused gently, the smirk practically audible in your voice, matching his own. "A girl can only take so much teasing before she combusts."
"Ain't that the point," he chuckled into your skin as his lips moved lower.
Any sassy retort you might've had was cut off in a groaning sob when his mouth teased over your other nipple. Bucky took a little more time here, until your grip tightened in his hair along with the delicate skin under his ministrations and you began to pant for air. After one last flicker of his tongue, he broke away to pepper kisses down your stomach, onto the spur of your hip, along your thigh, paying special attention to the waning bruise marring the silky softness he loved so well, the result of snapping a man… a monster's elbow in two to save you both.
Once he was satisfied with his affections there and with the fine tremble of your muscles beneath his touch, Bucky slipped his hands beneath your hips to leverage you up a little, trying to keep some of the pressure off your feet. Flesh and metal fingers alike hooked into the back waistband of your panties to slide them slowly down your legs. Looking to where your head rested on the pillows, he caught your gaze and held it as he went. Each brush of his knuckles on your skin was a deliberate act so that he could watch your eyes darken, no doubt mirroring his own. The journey was over much sooner than he would have liked, but he didn't neglect slipping off your other sock and laying a final kiss to the clean bandages on your right sole, signifying the end of his little mission.
He took a moment to admire his view of you, laid bare, all flushed and vulnerable for him. The thought of you trusting him with all your softness, not just your body, but everything, never failed to send a thrill through him. It was an image he wanted to keep forever, one that helped burn away the darkness whenever it threatened to consume him. Nothing as strong and beautiful and lovely as you would choose him if there wasn't something worthy hidden away inside him. And he'd earn it, too, even if it was the last thing he ever did in this world.
The weight of your attention was heavy and hot on his skin as he moved to finish stripping down. If he went a little slower than necessary, letting you get an eyeful, you definitely didn't seem to mind. Looking up revealed you leaning up on your elbows, eyes roaming his body, and he couldn't help his smirk at your sheepish expression when you realized you'd been caught ogling him. There was a time when being stared at would have made him uncomfortable, but never with you. Now the only discomfort was the aching need to be cradled in between your thighs again. Your head fell back to the pillows as he crawled the short distance up the mattress toward you.
"My pretty baby," he hummed against the bend of your knee, adoring the quiet catch in your throat and the way you opened again at the gentle press of his fingers. They slid along your inner thigh until his hand came to rest at the juncture of your legs with his mouth trailing behind. "So soft and sweet for me."
The kittenish noise you made when his teeth scraped against your tender skin shivered down his spine. And he could hear the slightest bit of desperation in your whispered "Bucky…"
"Ah, sugar, I know. You need it bad and I'm gonna give it to ya, promise," he soothed, palming at the suppleness low on your belly, thumb caressing affectionate circles there. Glancing up at your heated expression, he had to lick the dryness from his lips. Hell if you didn't know exactly what he was asking for. "But it's been too long and I'd like the taste'a you fresh in my mind for when I can't be with you."
Your fervent little nod was all the answer he needed. To ease some of the strain on your body, Bucky quickly grabbed an unused pillow to prop beneath your hips before dropping a kiss just below your belly button. The feel of your fingertips dancing along his scalp had him sighing into your skin as he slipped his shoulders behind your knees. Your smell and taste were familiar and thrilling in equal measures, as was the gentle gasp you made when his tongue eased its way between your folds. He groaned in pleasure at finding you already slick with arousal, feeling himself twitch against his stomach. You bucked at his first tentative swipe and he moved his hands to your hips, holding you steady as he kept going. But that didn't stop your fingers from twisting in his hair or your heels from digging into his back, urging him on with every lick, every dip of his tongue into your entrance, brushing the line of his nose along your clit the way he knew drove you wild. Soon, you were moaning sweet and panting, chest heaving when he looked up the length of your body. He had to pull away before his own instinctive rutting against the sheets overcame him.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Got a little carried away," he murmured, pressing his lips to your quivering thigh at the disappointed whimper you gave.
"Just get up here and kiss me," you huffed with an affectionate tug of his hair.
Bucky smirked at the firm command you mustered despite how breathless and flustered you were. It was definitely an order he had no problems following. "Yes, ma'am."
The journey was peppered with a few kisses up your torso, but he didn't dare take too long before his lips met yours again. Truth be told, he was probably more desperate for it than you were, especially now with his desire whet on the taste of you. A shudder ran through him at the way your knees slid to his waist, offering yourself up to him with a tilt of your pelvis, and he swallowed your gentle gasp in another kiss when he nestled himself along your folds. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he teased himself against you, slicking his underside and nudging at your sensitive little bundle of nerves to make you whimper, to help ease his way soon.
"Bucky, please," you panted quietly, hot breath searing across his cheek when you broke away for air.
He stole another kiss before leaning up with his metal palm pressed into the bed near your shoulder. Gaze sweeping down your beautiful, flushed skin, he swallowed thick at the sight of your bodies notched together so intimately. And his voice was rougher than he realized, lips parched from the fluttering in his stomach, when he locked eyes with you again, taking himself in hand while he spoke. "Keep lookin at me. Please, baby?"
You didn't question him, only cupped his jaw with one hand, fingers of the other trailing down the web of scarring where skin and metal fused to rest over his heart, making it beat all the faster, as he gripped your left hip and slowly sank into you. God, he missed this even more than he realized, the snug, silky heat of you, yes, but also the pleasured way your lips parted and the soft noises of approval you made as you tried urging him on. His own muscles shook with the effort to keep from just snapping his hips forward. Especially with the way your head fell back on the pillows, still managing to keep your eyes on him over the curve of your cheeks. But he was able to restrain himself, the bruises serving as a reminder of why he needed to, and took his time until he was seated deep inside you.
"You always feel so goddamn amazing, sweetheart," he murmured, hearing bit of awe in his own voice as he pressed in close with you again to kiss along your collarbone. "Don't think I ever felt anything as good as you."
"I could say the same thing about you," was your quiet chuckle as your fingers curled over the tender little spot on his rib cage, just below the line of scars and metal, that often sent a jolt through him. This time it was eclipsed by his low groan when you let your knees fall wider, let him slip that much further into you. You set your teeth playfully at his chin and kissed at the corner of his mouth before you spoke again. "And I love the look you get. Like you've died and gone to heaven."
Bucky couldn't help his gentle snort of amusement as he mouthed his way down your jaw. "Sometimes I think I might've. But it can't be near as beautiful as the faces you make. Especially when you're comin for me."
"Bucky!" Though you tried to sound scandalized, there was no hiding the laughter in your voice or the way your shoulders shook with it while your nails scratched along his scalp. "Always such a sweet talker."
A mischievous smirk and gentle roll of his hips was the only response he gave, catching the airy moan that fell from your lips with his own. True to his word, Bucky kept the pace slow and easy to start, savoring, memorizing you all over again. Lips and tongue tasted the salty sweetness of your skin everywhere they could reach. The scent of your soap and shampoo, the beginnings of sweat and blooming arousal, made his head swim. Every blissful sigh and hitched breath and delicious moan etched themselves into his mind, playing in time with his own pleasured sounds, a recording of a favorite song he hoped would never wear out no matter how many times he listened. And, oh, the way you clung to him; legs hitched around his waist, fingers in his hair and clutching at his skin, drawing his body in flush to yours as though he'd ever want to pull away. He kissed you hot and thorough, poured everything he had into your eager mouth and into the steady rhythm of your bodies. Only your nails down his back truly threatened his resolve and he had to grit his teeth a bit to keep himself in check. Though not for the first time, he wished the angry red lines or your sweet little love bites could linger on his skin to mark his body as yours now, freely given, instead of the jagged old scars of a half-life he never wanted.
It could have lasted this way forever, as far as Bucky was concerned. He wanted it to, anyway; no world outside the two of you. No mission to take him away, no responsibilities, no danger or darkness lurking just around the corner. Nothing but you and him and the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the breath shared between you. But none of that could stay the tight coiling of pleasure deep in his gut or the growing neediness in your movements and the sounds you made for him. When he felt that tell tale flutter and tension around him, he knew neither of you would last much longer.
"You gettin close, baby," he asked, voice rough as he leaned back to look at you. Your only response was a breathless nod and a whimper when he slowed his hips to a deep, gentle rock inside you despite the somewhat desperate squeeze of your thighs at his waist. An adoring smile curved his lips while he reached to brush back some fallen hair from your forehead, metal fingers skimming over your flushed skin. "C'mon, then, beautiful. Wanna watch your face when you come for me. Almost as good as feelin it."
His hand slipped down to cup your cheek, thumb caressing along the delicate skin of your bottom lip, kiss-swollen and red from his stubble. Your eyes quickly snapped up to his, dark and hungry, at the same time your right hand closed gently around his cybernetic wrist to hold it there. Not quite sure what to expect, Bucky paused his movements to watch awestruck as the tip of your tongue teased out along the pad of his thumb. The sensors went haywire when your hot little mouth closed entirely around the digit, the feedback of suction and swirling wetness shuddering through him to settle at the base of his spine. It took everything in him not to finish taking you hard and rough right there. Hell, that was probably what you had been hoping for. But he kept his composure for the most part, though a low groan escaped him when you released his thumb with a soft pop.
"Please, Bucky. Touch me. I need it," you whimpered quietly. The slight tremor in your voice would have been enough to convince him, but your teeth worried at your lower lip as you slid his hand down your skin and there was no questioning exactly what you were after.
"Anything for you, sweetheart." He bowed his head to steal a few quick kisses while his fingertips dragged down the length of your body until they were brushing low on your stomach, thumb sneaking its way between your folds. The kittenish noise you made and the accompanying quick clench of your muscles had his forehead dropping to yours with a sigh. "My sweet girl is always so good to me, how could I say no?"
Bucky eased back into movement, though the answering cant of your hips urged him into a quicker pace. Soon, you were breathless again, soft little moans as your fingers gripped at him anywhere they could find purchase, your touch solid and real and as desperate as the ache inside him. He knew he found just the right spot, the right angle when he watched your back arch with a gasp.
"C'mon, baby. Come for me," he coaxed, dizzy on the sensations himself, repeating the rolling thrusts firm and deep, letting you feel every inch as he continued circling your clit carefully. "Ah, fuck, honey, you're so close I can feel it. M'right there with ya, you feel so good. C'mon, pretty baby. Lemme see you come."
And it was the truth, too. You were trembling beneath him, head thrown back in the pillows, the quiver of your thighs tickling around his waist, nails sunk so deep in his skin he thrilled at the thought you might actually bruise him. Even your voice sounded stretched taut and ready to snap. "Bucky! Oh God, Bucky! Ah!"
"Christ, sweetheart, the way you say my name." His whole body shook with the strain of holding back, rhythm faltering as he ground out "Again. Please, baby, say it again."
It drove him wild, the way you obliged him. A breathless, groaning chant, over and over in time with his thrusts. Somewhere in him, he knew he could never forget his name again, not with the way it sounded falling from your lips with each building keen. Then, with one last press of his hips and stroke of his thumb, you were crying out as you came undone around him, bucking against him for more. The sight and feel of you awash in pleasure were more than he could withstand and a moment later he groaned out his own release and spilled deep inside you with a few gentle rocks of his pelvis.
Hips still flush with yours, Bucky settled himself over you once again, weight held up on his forearms to keep from crushing you under his spent form. Your fingers along his spine and in his hair slowly, slowly calmed the wild beating of his heart as you both caught your breath. He covered your mouth in a brief kiss before slipping down your jaw, along your neck to bury his face in the crook there. Revelling in the soft pulse of your muscles around him, the way your bodies wrapped and melted together as if nothing else existed, Bucky filled his lungs full with the scent of you and promised himself, just knew that no matter what happened out in the field the next day or the day after or the day after that, no one would ever be able to truly take this away from him. Not this, not you, not ever. He'd never give them a chance.
The only sort of pain you felt in those quiet moments was the sweet ache of exertion in your muscles and the pang in your heart knowing that, come morning, the man you loved would be leaving and you didn't know when - or if - he'd ever come back. It was difficult when Bucky first told you his plan, to meet Hydra head on with the memories that came tumbling out of his mind after the two of you came to the compound, but you accepted it. Not running away, like you feared might happen, not with Sam and Wanda in tow. Just taking action, taking the fight to them. It still hurt, and the distant way he handled you did nothing to soothe your worry.
But he was here now and that was what really mattered when all was said and done. The warm press of his body along yours was a reminder of that, caged in close beneath him as your fingers slipped through his hair, hips and thighs still cradling him close through the last few tremors of pleasure, sighing at the gentle twitch of him as he softened inside you. His contented hum tickled across your neck and you could almost feel a smile on his lips.
"Are you mine, sweetheart," Bucky breathed quietly. The adoration in his voice left you flushed and breathless for an entirely different reason than before, each soft kiss making your skin tingle. "Really mine?"
"Of course, Bucky. For as long as you want me," was your gentle reply. You should have been used to this sort of thing by now. As big and strong and broody as he could get, Bucky was more often a huge sap when the two of you were alone, especially when you were tangled up together so intimately. Yet, it could still catch you off guard, like now when it flared that ache in your chest.
No doubt it was your gentle sniffle that had him pulling back enough to look at your face. A few stray tears snuck down your temples when you blinked furiously against them, but he only gave you a warm little smile, leaning down to kiss away the wet tracks left behind, murmuring "Forever, then. Forever."
You held him tightly as his mouth found yours a moment later, the brush of his lips soft and sweet. It was more soothing than enticing, so much like after the first time you were together. You had to stamp down the scared little voice in your head that worried about it possibly being the last. Now wasn't the time for that. Now was the time to kiss him back like there was nothing in the world but the two of you. Luckily, despite everything you'd been through, that was still such an easy thing to do.
When you finally broke for air, that soft expression you'd grown to love so well shone on Bucky's face as he looked down on you. The tilt to his lips and the gentleness in his eyes said almost as much as any words ever could. You brushed your fingers along his bristly cheeks, combing the long hair back from his face so you could take it all in, commit it to memory all over again as you scratched lightly at his scalp. His smile grew wider, but no less loving before he leaned in for another quick kiss. This one was broken by the quiet noises you both made as he pulled his hips away from yours.
Bucky settled onto the bed to your right and you rolled lazily into his arms, teeth nipping your lower lip at the sweet ache in your thighs. The metal plating of his left arm was body-warm, the ever present hum and whir fading into the background as he cradled your body close, flesh fingers tracing the curve of your face, your shoulder, your waist. And despite the dreaminess of his gaze, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head before he spoke gently. "You gonna wait for me, sweetheart?"
Something told you there was the barest hint of real concern flittering around his brain, but he covered it with a playful smirk as he toyed with the ends of your hair. No doubt he was trying to keep the mood light and you were more than happy to oblige. With a wide-eyed grin, you reached to cup his jaw, thumb slipping across his stubble while you chuckled "Oh, how many girls did you ask that back in the day, Sarge?"
"There were no girls," he huffed out in a quiet laugh with a slight shake of his head. But then he pursed his lips and scrunched his nose in a mock look of consideration before smirking again. "Well... there were girls. Just none I would'a asked that. None I pictured myself comin home to."
Teeth worrying his lower lip, Bucky looked almost bashful as his eyes searched your features. And if your heart hadn't already been so much mush over him, it definitely would have melted at that. You leaned in closer, fingers dancing down his jaw to give his hair an affectionate tug, making him grin when you nipped the divot of his chin. His smile widened while you moved to prop yourself up on an elbow, side of your head resting in your hand. It let you survey him with your own thoughtful look though you didn't try to hide the way the corners of your lips quirked up.
"I dunno, Buck. There was that guy at Stark's party," you sighed, smirking at the confusion that crossed his face. "You know, that bartender? Had his eye on me the whole night."
The deep, incredulous laugh Bucky sputtered out shook his whole body, scrunched his face as he shook his head. "Christ, baby, you mean that geriatric with Coke bottle glasses? The one who kept shoutin 'Excelsior!' every time somebody put a dollar in his tipjar?"
"What can I say? I like 'em old," you shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance and failing as your heartbeat stuttered at the sight of his unchecked amusement. "The older the better."
"Well," he clucked his tongue with an affronted look while he played along. "S'pose it's a good thing for me that Thor's already taken by Dr. Foster."
You scoffed in shock before narrowing your gaze and launching yourself the short distance toward him. Sheer delight crossed his face as he caught you easily enough, though it forced him onto his back and you wound up half-splayed across his chest in a peal of laughter, his own throaty chuckle echoing the moment's playfulness. Left arm draped around your back to keep you close, his flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in until your lips met again. Your hair slipped through his fingers like water as his palm slid along your jaw, thumbing carefully over your bruised cheekbone while he rested his head back against the pillow to gaze up at you, quiet and adoring.
"Assumin you're still available when I get back," Bucky teased and you gave his chest a sharp smack as you snorted. It made him smile, but it was subdued, a little nervous even, as he weaved his fingers between yours and brought your hand up to kiss your palm. He sighed through his nose and just barely met your gaze when he spoke in that low, intimate voice he had. "I thought maybe… maybe you'd let me make an honest woman outta ya."
It took you a moment to register his meaning, the confused pinch of your brow giving way to a slack jaw as you stared at him. Your heart skipped a beat or ten while your brain tried desperately to catch up with the rest of you. Marriage. He was talking about marrying you. In the time you'd been together, in all the things you'd been through, it had never been a topic of conversation. Of your dreams, perhaps a time or two, but never spoken aloud between you. Not even as a joke. In hindsight, it made sense that Bucky wouldn't make light of a subject like that. It was a big deal; even bigger when he was young, before the war and worse had taken away any hope he might have had for a normal life.
And yet, as Bucky's eyes watched you expectantly, you still found yourself trying to lessen the gravity of the situation, tried to cover up the depth of your emotions with a weak chuckle and a self-deprecating smirk. "Well, why start now?"
You realized the error of it when the little line between his eyebrows darkened and his smile fell. It was only by a fraction, but you knew him, loved him well enough to recognize the thoughts that must have been flittering through his head by that look alone. Your heart sank at that and you sat partway up with your hand on his chest, shaking your head as if that alone could scare away what was in his.
"No, Bucky. No. I didn't mean…" You sighed, biting your lip as you tried to gather your thoughts to explain. "I'd love to marry you, Bucky. You have no idea how much. I just… Things are different now. People stay together without getting married. I don't want you to think you have to ask because of tradition or because we've been together or because you're leaving. You shouldn't feel obligated to…"
"I want to," Bucky interrupted your babbling with his matter-of-fact tone. A fond little smirk curled his lips as he cupped your cheek gently because, you realized, he knew you. He knew you just as well as you knew him. "Sweetheart, I want to marry you. It's not an obligation. It's not a knee-jerk reaction in the face of this mission. I want to be your husband, not just because you make me wanna be a better man, but because you've been helpin make me one."
"Bucky," you managed to breathe out, although your throat was tight, constricted, your chest full with so much you could barely form words for it all. You weren't sure if it was a plea or a warning or just the only way to describe the stutter in your heart.
"Honey, you've been savin my life since the moment I walked through your door." His face was soft again, but sure, fingers gently gripping your chin as his grey eyes wandered your features before settling on yours. "And I wanna spend the rest of that life with you, if you'll let me."
The words had barely left his mouth before you were kissing him, trying to pour back into him every ounce of love and happiness that he'd managed to drum up inside you. And for a moment even the looming sadness of his departure wasn't enough to hamper the ecstatic laugh that bubbled up in your throat as you smiled against his lips.
"When you get back, Bucky." You leaned back enough to see the corners of his eyes crinkling with his grin, arm cradling you tight to him while flesh fingers carded through your hair. "Ask me when you get back. I guarantee future me won't say no."
"I'll hold ya to that, sweetheart," he chuckled quietly, amused at your antics, though you could see some reality trying to worm its way back in. "It'll gimme somethin nice to dream about when I won't have you with me."
There was no stopping the smirk that tugged at your lips. You never were one to pass up a bit of cheekiness, especially when the serious option seemed almost too much to bear. "Oh, I can give you something nice to dream about. The least I can do is give my soldier a proper send off."
His small bark of laughter was muffled by another kiss, a bit more playful and heated this time as you pressed your body flush with his. The easy way the noise slipped into a deep groan was its own little reward, fingertips tracing down your spine as yours slid up to tangle in his hair. It was gentle nips and tender suction, tasting sweet at each others' mouths, only pausing when you hiked a knee up to his waist and moved to straddle him.
"Baby… ya sure you're up for another go," Bucky husked out, concern evident in his voice even as he looked up at you in a slight daze, palms skimming up your thighs to rest at your hips.
"You certainly seem to be," you smiled at him wickedly. Hands planted on his chest, you canted your hips back to rock yourself along his already-growing erection, the mix of your arousal and his release creating a smooth glide that made a delightfully filthy mess of his stomach and crotch. Teasing like that always did something to him and this time was no exception, the way his eyes darkened and his teeth caught his lower lip, stifling a moan while his fingers bit into your skin. "Already at attention, huh, Sarge?"
Right hand reaching to cup the nape of your neck, Bucky pulled you down to him with a playful growl until your lips were just brushing his. There was mischief in his smirk when he rolled his hips against yours, making your breath catch. "Yes, ma'am. But whaddaya expect when my gal's grindin on me like she can't get enough?"
"Maybe she can't. Maybe she knows a good thing when she's got it, Sarge," you grinned back, giving a little wiggle until you felt him pressed along your folds again. And though it was said in a tease, you meant every word and the flash in Bucky's eyes told you he knew it too.
"Aw, sugar, always so insatiable," he smirked gently as his fingers tangled in your hair to bring you in for another kiss, hot and thorough. His metal hand held your hips still and soon you were whimpering softly into his mouth as he slid inside you, seating himself fully with a small snap of his hips and a pleasured groan. Then both hands were in your hair, holding it away from your face while he gazed up at you with so much emotion your stomach did a flip. Tongue wetting his lips, he finally spoke again in that intimate voice, quiet and rough at the edge. "Christ, I love you, sweetheart. I love you so goddamn much. Luckiest schmuck on God's green earth to have you like this."
Your lips captured his again, needing a moment to still the flutter of your insides, calm the wave of emotions that threatened to bubble up out of your control. He seemed eager enough to accept and return the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw and neck when you broke away for a shaky breath. "I love you, too, Bucky. More than anything. More than I could ever explain."
He leaned back to look at you again with a tender smile, knowing, understanding, as he cupped your jaw in his hands. "Then show me, darlin. Just show me."
That was a much easier thing to do, to give yourself over to the feel of him between your thighs, the press of your bodies, shared breath between kisses, whispered sweetnesses in the dim light. The night continued on much the same, over and over, both knowing sleep would be impossible either way. It was soft desperation and quiet reassurance by equal turns, trying to stretch the hours to stave off the inevitable as long as possible. All the love and tenderness managed to hold the sadness in your heart at bay, at least until Bucky urged you into the shower with him in the wee hours of the morning. He insisted on washing you himself, from the shampoo in your hair to the suds pooling at your feet, swiping carefully around the cuts and bruises, cupping the washcloth gently at the crux of your legs, all so reverent, like he might never get to touch you again. You couldn't help the swell of emotion that crested then or the tears that started to flow beneath the cascade of water. Bucky held you through it, kissed your wet shoulders until the quiet sobs that wracked your body subsided, made love to you again with a little urging when you pressed back against him, wanting that connection to help ground you once more.
After that, you both tried to rest, though full sleep was beyond reach. Instead, you clung to each other, Bucky pulling you to his chest to tuck your head beneath his chin and your arms wrapping around his waist to hold him close. Between the feel of his fingers slipping idly through your hair and the sound of his heartbeat, you were sure you dozed at some point. Maybe he even did as well, but you were awake enough when his arms tightened around you hours later and you knew your time together was starting to slip away.
"Sweetheart," he murmured into your hair, the ache in his voice evident.
"I know," you answered with a small nod and gave him an extra squeeze before pulling back to look up at his face. "Is there time for some breakfast at least… before you go?"
A sad little smile quirked his lips as he cupped your cheek and leaned in to brush a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, baby. I'm gonna suit up first though. And you should probably take your medicine."
"Yeah," you whispered. Behind the tightness of your heart and the twisting in your gut, part of you wanted to cry at how ridiculously mundane, how terribly useless and pitiful you felt in the moments leading up to him leaving for a mission, every time before, but especially now. Yet, you still gripped his chin in your fingers and tried to soldier on with as much mirth in your smile as you could muster. "I'll probably need those pain meds if I wanna walk straight later."
He snorted in amusement, though the emotion never really reached his eyes. There was too much sadness there to make room for much else even as you pressed your lips to his. You lingered there, not wanting to part, but after another quick peck, you headed for the bathroom. It was business as usual, despite the ache in your heart, going through the motions like any other of the last ten days, except your antibiotics were almost done and you had to take a little extra time to compose yourself in the mirror before you returned to the bedroom.
Bucky looked up at you from the bed, fingers pausing on the buckles of his leather gear as you moved to dress quickly. You could feel his eyes on you as you went and you purposefully tried to hide your face so he didn't have to see the red no doubt still rimming your eyes. Of course, before you could leave the room, he caught you gently by the wrist as you passed him. One tug was all it took to urge you between his thighs while flesh and metal palms alike cupped your cheeks and pulled you down for a soft kiss. You sighed into it, letting his presence and the delicate swipe of his thumbs along your skin steady you until your fingers moved to help him finish getting ready. And you reminded yourself that he wasn't running away from you; he was facing the darkness of his past head on so that you both could build a future.
As much as you wanted to make this meal together something lavish, stretch out the time that remained, you didn't have the heart for it. Or the stomach, either, really, with as much sadness and anxiety as you had churning away in your gut. Scrambled eggs and toast. You were sending the love of your life off to fight a faceless Nazi death cult, one that held him brainwashed and used him for nefarious purposes against his will for decades, on nothing but scrambled eggs and toast. You almost could have laughed about the utter absurdity of the situation if you weren't so close to crying as you stood in front of the stove. Bucky was only a few short steps away, further than you cared for though you didn't dare say anything, at the ready with butter by the toaster. Neither of you even bothered chastising the cat when she jumped onto the counter between you with a soft mrr. He was too busy scratching behind her ears and you… you didn't really see the point.
"Sweetheart?" Bucky's concerned voice and the feel of his fingers at your waist pulled your attention from where it had been lost in your own head. You hadn't even noticed him moving closer to you.
"Hm? Oh shit," you barked in surprise, suddenly realizing the eggs you'd been idly pushing about the pan were starting to brown and sizzle, the scent of burn just starting to bloom. Quickly, maybe even a bit more frantically than necessary, you turned off the heat and moved the pan around before dumping the contents on the plate beside the stove. The sight of the nearly-ruined mess had you plopping the pan back on the burner none too delicately as you shook your head at yourself. "Jesus, I can't believe I'm fucking up scrambled eggs. I wanted things to be perfect and I'm screwing up the simplest goddamn…"
"Honey... Honey, it's fine. Really. I like 'em hard-cooked," Bucky soothed, drawing you in close and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "And, honest to God, anything is better than powdered."
You couldn't help your slightly amused snort against his chest, even with the little memory it conjured up. "Y'know, my sister used to say the same thing. Of course, she was the one who tended to burn things."
"Well, she wasn't lyin. I'd'a eaten eggs burned black an gone back for seconds over powdered," he chuckled quietly into your hair before you looked up at him with a soft smirk that you were sure matched his own. His fingers reached up to brush the hair from your face, kissing the tip of your nose. "мое солнышко… C'mon. Let's eat."
The eating was mostly show, really. You took bites here and there, chewed slow as if it could affect time itself, knowing that Bucky would have urged you to eat otherwise. He most likely only ate for your benefit as well, picking at his plate quietly with one hand while metal fingers rested on your thigh beside him, comfort and reassurance for you both. But it couldn't last forever, and all too soon you were putting half-empty plates in the sink while he grabbed his duffel bag. It was slung easily over his shoulder when he rejoined you at the edge of the kitchen and the sight alone was enough to make your chest tighten that much further.
Bucky's hand never left yours on the way to the elevator, only moving to slip around your waist and hug you tightly to his side as you waited for the car. Once it arrived, he shuffled you both inside and turned to press the button for the hangar's floor despite the somewhat desperate grip of your fingers on the straps of his uniform. Something close to pain flashed over his face when his gaze found yours again, but before you could say a word the duffel bag was on the floor and his arms were around you, mouth molding to yours to kiss you breathless. His lips barely left yours the entire ride down, except to graze along your cheek, your jaw, your neck, hungry and wanting, but always finding their way back for another kiss. And you had no complaints about it. Sometimes you thought you could survive on his kisses alone and now was the time for glutting yourself on them to help see you through his absence.
Your heart sank with the slowing of the elevator reaching its destination. Bucky's mouth lingered on yours momentarily before he parted from you with a reluctant sigh, tangling flesh fingers with yours as he stooped to grab his bag. He shouldered it just as the doors started to open onto the short hallway that led to the hangar. The walk was somehow agonizingly slow and all too quick at the same time; the twisting in your gut making you question if what little you ate would even stay down. A gentle squeeze of your hand brought your attention back to Bucky and his wane smile before he opened the door to the expansive hangar.
It was hardly the first time you'd been there, but the sight of the quinjet prepped and ready to go hit you a bit harder than expected. Sam, Steve, and Wanda stood waiting near the entrance ramp, talking amongst themselves, all three looking up as you and Bucky entered. Wanda moved to meet you halfway with a soft smile. It only seemed to grow a little when her eyes darted from your joined hands to Bucky's face, knowing and pleased. They exchanged quick nods, Bucky giving you a reassuring smile and your knuckles a gentle swipe of his thumb as he headed toward the two other men.
Wanda greeted you by name in her thick Sokovian accent, swooping in for a hug that you gladly returned. Needed, if you were being honest, and she probably knew that. Her hands slipped down into yours when she pulled back, gesture and soft smile both familiar as she regarded you. "I would tell you good morning, but I'm not sure you would agree. Why don't we settle for, good to see you?"
"It's good to see you, too, Wanda," you chuckled quietly, squeezing her fingers. You knew some of the power they held, some of what those hands were capable of, and you trusted them to keep Bucky as safe as possible, but in that moment, just the kindness and warmth of the simple touch meant more to you than any of that. "I'm gonna miss you, Wanda."
"And I will miss you, my friend," she replied, squeezing back before turning to walk with you toward the others at a slow pace. She hooked her arm with yours to lean in with a playful, secretive tone. "But do not fret. You will have Clint and Natasha to keep you company when they return from their mission tomorrow. And the Captain, of course. Though, I think perhaps he may need the same consolation as you will."
You followed the guiding tilt of Wanda's head to find the three men talking, too far away to overhear, but most likely mission related things, judging by their demeanors. Steve nodded at something, a dour look on his face until he cast a furtive glance at Sam beside him. There was something in his expression you hadn't noticed before that was mirrored when Sam returned the look, soft and subtle but recognizable even from halfway across the hangar. You'd seen the same thing in Wilson's eyes a time or two when he would dance with your sister what felt like a lifetime ago. And it was almost identical to the gaze Bucky fixed you with over his shoulder when he glanced back at you.
"These powers I have cannot show me the future," Wanda sighed gently beside you, drawing your attention back to her. There was a soft smile on her face as she turned to cup your cheek with one hand. "But I promise to look after them and do whatever I can to help you all have the happy endings you deserve."
"Thank you, Wanda. Just don't forget about the one you deserve too," you nodded, squeezing her elbow slightly just as you caught the three men starting to move your way out of the corner of your eye.
She grinned with a soft chuckle before leaning in to kiss your cheek, a gesture you returned easily. "Good bye, сестра. Take care. I think when we return, there will be many happy things to celebrate."
You snorted in laughter at that, even as she started moving away from you. "I thought you couldn't see the future?"
"No." Wanda's smirk was almost mischievous, a considering tilt to her head. Her eyes flickered to Bucky for a moment as the group drew closer only to land back on you. "But some people hope so strongly for things in their hearts, it is difficult not to overhear them a little."
She knew. Of course, she knew, whether it was because it had flashed through one of your minds this morning or she'd seen Bucky contemplating it for however long, but she knew he'd brought up getting married when the mission was over. You couldn't help the fond shake of your head as you squeezed her hand one more time. "Be careful, Wanda. And stay safe. I want to celebrate those things with you, too."
Wanda nodded, swooping in for another quick hug to you and then Steve before turning to head into the quinjet. It seemed no sooner had she disappeared from your line of sight than Sam swooped in to grab your attention and your shoulder with a firm grip. He flashed you that dazzling, cheeky grin of his that you knew so well before his face fell into mock authority as he regarded you, affection still evident in his eyes.
"Alright, young lady," he began, pointing his finger at you, and you were torn between a playful sigh of annoyance and wanting to tear up. "I'm trusting you to keep this place in line while we're gone. No coffee for Tony after five. Clint cannot keep any stray dogs he finds. Steve's bedtime is 9pm. And no wild parties. It's no fair if you guys get to have fun without me."
"Sam," you breathed, sounding a little watery. Of course, tearing up was quickly winning out over everything and the slight quiver in your lower lip wasn't helping matters.
"Alright, c'mere." With a soft cluck of his tongue, Sam pulled you in for a tight hug. Your arms grabbed him up easy, clinging to the man who'd been your friend so long, who became family as sure as any blood, there through grief and heartache and, now, happiness for a change. If you held onto each other a little longer than what was conventional, you were certain no one could fault you for it. When he spoke again, he sounded serious enough, reassuring. "I got his back, kiddo, like I know he's got mine. Same with Wanda."
Despite all his playfulness and banter, when it came down to it, Sam didn't make promises about things he wasn't sure about, especially when it came to missions, but this statement alone was enough for you. "I know, Sam. Thank you."
He planted a kiss on your temple before pulling back to smirk at you again. His eyes glanced over to Steve and Bucky, your own gaze following and finding them apparently breaking from their own farewell embrace, Bucky clasping his friend's - his brother's shoulder.
"You and Steve look after each other, okay," Sam smiled when you looked at him again the other two men making their way toward you. "Or else."
"Or else what? Huh," you asked, sniffling slightly but managing a small smirk. "Is Steve gonna tattle on me and I'll be grounded?"
He chuckled under his breath with a fond shake of his head. "Something like that."
After another quick kiss on your forehead and a ruffle of your hair, Sam pulled away from you. It was difficult to let him go, but the look he shared with Steve told you they needed a moment of their own. Knowing you were that much closer to their departure, them actually leaving, only amplified the sinking feeling inside you. You'd nearly forgotten how to breathe in the second it took for Sam's hand to be replaced by metal fingers curling gently between your own.
"Sweetheart," Bucky whispered, quiet, reverent, but whatever else he had to say was cut off when you threw your arms around him. There was no hesitation in the way he pulled you in close, bodies flush, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your sob.
You tried your best to keep it together, but that didn't stop the errant tears that trailed from the corners of your eyes or the tell tale sniffle as you tried to breathe him in again, desperately trying to tell yourself that it wouldn't be the last time. And it seemed he was doing the same, tip of his nose and his scruff tickling the delicate skin of your neck until you felt him drop a few soft kisses there. A few too-short moments later, he moved to cup your face in both his hands, thumbs caressing over your cheekbones and eyes glistening a little with their own wetness. There were so many things running through your head, so many things you wanted to say; sappy things and silly things and things to reassure you both, but there were no real words to say them with. Yet, even as his mouth closed over yours, you were certain he knew them all just the same.
"I love you," you managed to whimper softly against his lips, fingers circling his wrists, wanting to savor the feel of him touching your face for as long as possible.
"And I love you, darlin. I know you're worried and scared, but I swear, there's nothin in this whole wide world that could keep me from comin home to you." Bucky looked you in the eye, voice matter-of-fact, that certainty in his voice he had that brooked no argument. Whether he needed to hear it as much as you, you couldn't say, but the conviction in his words struck you and eased a little of the terror fluttering in your chest. Then a soft smirk cracked his lips, muted but hopeful. "And when I do get back, maybe you'll let me call ya Mrs. Barnes."
You sobbed out a laugh, more tears spilling despite yourself while you nodded. "Of course I will, Bucky. Of course I will."
The small grin of his widened, though you caught his gentle sniffle as he swooped in to kiss you again. It was thorough and lingering, all shared breath and trembling fingers and the need to feel each other one more time. A few more soft, quick kisses and Bucky was pulling away from you. No one had to say it was time, you could read it clearly by the pained expression on his face and the sympathetic look Sam cast you from right behind his shoulder. It took everything you had not to clutch at him, though your fingers stayed laced together until you were nearly out of reach as he backed away.
"Hey, punk, take care'a my girl while I'm gone," Bucky called out to Steve. "She can be as stubborn as you. Might be a taste'a your own medicine."
A quick glance at the blond's face as he sidled up beside you showed he wasn't barely better off than you were, though maybe without quite so many tears staining his cheeks. That lopsided grin of his managed to show through anyway. "Can't be much worse than you, jerk. Keep your nose clean."
Bucky nodded, clapping Sam on the back before fixing you with a reassuring smile his last few steps to reach the ramp. And then they both turned to disappear into the quinjet, your heart practically stopped as Steve urged you a safe distance away with a gentle hand on your elbow. You couldn't take your eyes off the aircraft, desperate not to miss one last glimpse of them. It paid off with a final wave as the ramp began to close, your gaze locked with Bucky's the whole time.
As the engines roared to life, Steve's arm wrapped around your shoulders and you finally let yourself break down a little, the sound drowning out your sniffles and sobs while you both watched the takeoff. It surprised you a little, how easily he tucked you against his chest, but you were too overwhelmed to question it. Instead, you hugged at him somewhat until they were out of sight, feeling like your heart might have gone along with them. When you started to pull away, already chagrined that you clung to him, Steve just squeezed you in a little tighter.
"Y'know what my favorite thing is about this new century," he asked, making you swivel your head up awkwardly to fix him with a confused and curious look. His eyes were somewhat distant, still staring at the hangar doors as they closed as he heaved a gentle sigh. "It's the sheer variety of ice cream to choose from now. There's about five different kinds in the freezer right now, alone."
You blinked up at him a moment, brain trying to catch up before you sputtered out a wet little laugh. He finally looked down at you with that boyish grin almost reaching his eyes and gave you an affectionate jostle. "C'mon, let's see how many we can get through."
It seemed all it took was your nod of approval and he was tugging you back toward the compound. Ice cream wouldn't fill the hollowness in your chest at watching the love of your life flying off to fight bad guys, but it couldn't really hurt. Neither could leaning on a friend for support, especially one who was going through the same sort of pain. "So, you and Sam, huh?"
The grin did reach Steve's eyes this time, though his face turned the most fantastic shade of red you'd ever scene while his hand scrubbed the back of his neck. Despite your chuckle, you still wished Bucky was there to laugh at it with you.
