Bucky's breath caught in his chest, eyes locked on the flecks of crimson on his palm. Snapping out of his surprise, he immediately pulled his fingers away from her sex. He could feel that she had gone rigid beneath him.

Locking his eyes with her brown ones, he demanded, "Harper, are you a virgin?"

He watched her brows knit before her eyes roamed to his hand. Her face was open to him, and he watched the surprise flit across it before being replaced by annoyance. Reconnecting their gaze, she replied. "First off, the whole 'virgins bleed' thing has been totally blown out of proportion by our patriarchal society; not all do, and there are reasons why a non-virgin might. Secondly, do you even have to ask?"

His own temper flaring, he retorted, "What, am I just supposed to know?"

"I told you that I only had the one relationship that wasn't even really a relationship with that guy in college. I figured you'd correctly assume how inexperienced I was – am – from that conversation."

"I figured you might've had some one night stands! You've told me a lot about how much of a partier you used to be," Bucky sneered.

Harper huffed agitatedly and said, "Well, I didn't. You of all people should know it takes me a while to trust other people, and that I'm not quick to engage in physical contact. I don't see why this even matters. I didn't ask how many girls you've slept with, despite your stories making it abundantly clear that there were probably many before me."

The former assassin couldn't help but roll his eyes. "That doesn't matter."

"Then why the fuck would it matter that I haven't had sex with anyone?!" Harper shot back.

"Because this? Being your first? I don't want that!"

Her hands were immediately on his chest, shoving him back. With tears rapidly pooling in her eyes, she hissed, "Then fuck off!"

Her hands fretted in midair for a moment, searching, before grabbing up her comforter and pulling it in front of herself. Immediately, the gravity of his words hit him, and his chest clenched painfully. Quickly, much more gently, he said, "Oh shit, no, Harper, I didn't mean it like that. It's not that I don't want you. I do. More than I've ever wanted anyone before."

"You have a funny way of showing it," she replied, voice shaking. The tears began to spill, running down her cheeks.

"Darlin', I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" he cut himself off, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Why does this matter to you?" she repeated, tone turning icy and eyes unwavering despite the tears still dripping from them.

"Harper, you gotta understand that from the moment we really started to become friends, I had significant reservations. I felt… feel," he corrected, "like I'm incredibly unworthy of having any sort of relationship with you, platonic or romantic. I've done horrible things. My… my dreams are drowning in blood. I've spent the largest part of my life killing people, doing disgusting, painful, awful things to other human beings. You've dedicated your life to helping people, even despite what it means for your personal wellbeing and happiness. I'm a murderer. You're an angel. I've felt like I'm this toxic stain on you. Maybe that's why I stuck with the assumption that you've had one night stands. Because now, facing the fact that I would have to be the one to take yet another piece of your purity away… Your first time shouldn't be with someone like me."

"You don't get to decide that," she growled. "This is my body, it's my decision. And you don't get to decide how important my virginity is. It's mine, and I really don't much care about it."

"Harper-"

She cut him off sharply, "Have I been 'tainted' since we met? Am I different in any sort of bad way? Am I not this kind, caring person you thought me to be in the beginning?"

"I think the world of you," Bucky answered earnestly.

"Well, then I guess your touch can't rot me to the core, because if you really think that this is the only thing you'd be my first with, then you've been seriously out of touch."

His stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

Her left hand gripped the comforter tighter while her right flailed in exasperation. "You've been my first fucking everything! I told you there was nothing to tell about my love life. There was one guy who I was never even in a real relationship with! Things were just starting to really go somewhere when I was hospitalized for the cluster headaches! It's all been you! First boyfriend, first kiss, first make out partner, first to touch my boobs, first to give me an orgasm, first to finger me – first and only everything!"

The usually calm brunette was practically shouting at this point and her voice sounded near sobs. Bucky didn't know what to be most horrified by: the information he had just learned, or how visibly upset he had made her.

"You never wondered why I was really so insecure at the beginning of our relationship? Despite knowing my history and me telling you I had no idea what I was doing? I know I never said anything explicitly, but I was nervous! How could I possibly compare to any of the girls you'd been with? I'm the too-old-to-be-this-inexperienced loner with a borderline drinking problem who suffers from a bizarre chronic pain condition, and now I just had to confess it all out loud. I'm so fucking embarrassed," she continued, finally dissolving into sobs.

Bucky didn't respond for a moment, stunned into silence. There was too much to digest. Looking back, she really had left him a trail of breadcrumbs to the truth. He hadn't looked any closer, maybe subconsciously to protect his assumptions about her. But at the same time, she was always so confident, so forthcoming. She had been the one to push things towards friendship. She had been the one who confessed her feeling to him. But then, that only made him feel worse. Those things must have been so intimidating, but she had really put herself out there for him.

"Harper…" he muttered, reaching to wrap his arm around her.

Harper lifted a hand in protest and hissed, "Don't touch me."

"Can we talk this through?" he asked, heartrate immediately accelerating.

"Go sit in the living room."

"What?"

"I'm not sitting here, naked with you, any longer."

He nodded and stood, gathering his own clothes. He made to put on his jeans, when Harper snapped, "Not here."

"Okay." He exited her room, closing the door behind him. Bucky moved to the couch in the living space. Aslan lay on the armchair, but lifted his head when the former assassin approached. Bucky was leveled with a decidedly livid feline glare.

"Don't look at me like that," he implored quietly, dropping his clothes to the couch with a defeated sigh. The green eyed stare did not turn any kinder. Bucky stepped into his jeans before addressing the cat again, "I know I fucked up. I don't need you to tell me that."

The old mammal let out one low meow before lowering his head again, though his eyes never left the dark haired man. Bucky pulled his thermal back on, grimacing when he realized it was one that Harper had gifted him. He sat on the couch and began to consider all that had just transpired.

And he had plenty of time to think and grow more anxious, because it was a solid half hour before Harper emerged from her room. She wore crimson pajama pants with Christmas trees and reindeer on them, a terrible reminder that this, her favorite day of the year, had undoubtedly been ruined. A loose black hoodie covered the rest of her form, and he couldn't help but think that she'd have to try to cover up more. Her hair was now piled atop her head, and her face was bare of makeup. Her eyes were puffy and red. She sat on the far end of the couch from him and immediately Aslan stood and jumped from his perch. Tail held high, he marched over to the couch and jumped up, situating himself between his human and the former assassin.

The silence stretched between them uncomfortably. Finally, Bucky said, "Harper, I'm so sorry that I upset you."

"You didn't 'upset' me," the brunette shook her head. "You really hurt me, James."

He swallowed thickly, a myriad of unpleasant emotions churning in his stomach. "That is the last thing I ever wanted to do."

"I get that you were having a reaction to something you found surprising, but did you really think it wouldn't be hurtful? You went from having me naked in bed with your fingers literally inside me to saying, with disgust in your voice and in regards to my body, 'I don't want that.'"

"I shouldn't have been so reactionary. I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"I understand that. Your explanation of what you were thinking was helpful in understanding what you were reacting to. Thank you for being more articulate than I was," she replied evenly.

He couldn't help but admire, even in that tense, uncomfortable moment, her astounding communication skills. How she could give him any sort of credit instead of being volatile and acting on her hurt just proved her maturity and verbal aptitude. "You had every reason to be less articulate than usual. But I just… before we continue, I do want you to know that my reaction was genuinely no reflection on you or your body. Everything I've ever said about how beautiful you are, how sexy, how much I've wanted to be with you and for how long… that was all true. I still feel that way."

Harper nodded. "I get that. But knowing that, it doesn't erase the fact that the voice in my head telling me there's no way someone who looks like you could want someone like me has been screaming for the last forty minutes."

Cautiously, Bucky reached for her hand with his, pulling back when Aslan's head shot up at the motion. Harper began threading her fingers through his fur; to calm him or to praise him, Bucky wasn't sure. "I'm so sorry, Harper."

"More importantly, I need to know if you are going to be hung up on not having sex because you don't want to be my first, or if you are going to be able to get over that. I will not accept you withholding that piece of our relationship because of how you feel about something which is my choice."

"Harper, the problem that I've had, that has exacerbated and complicated how I feel about everything to do with us…" Bucky grimaced and clenched his hands on his knees. He confessed, "There's so much about me you don't know."

"What you don't get is that whatever there is in your past that you find difficult, painful, shameful, whatever, it doesn't change anything." Tears began to drip from her eyes again. "I have the two most important facts: I love you, and you love me. Right?"

"More than anything, Harper," he answered, his own blue eyes prickling with tears as a swirl of emotions twisted in his chest. "And in that regard, you're my first."

The brunette was visibly disarmed by his confession. "Really?"

"Really," he assured. "I didn't think I'd ever feel for someone the way I feel for you."

"Oh," she breathed. It was silent for a beat before she replied, "I think it goes without saying that you're the same for me."

He nodded once before cautiously scooting closer, warily glancing down at her guard cat. "Doll, please don't doubt that I love you. That I want you. That meeting you is something I wouldn't trade for anything. That's why it's hard, knowing that any choice you make can't possibly be informed by the whole picture. There's so much you don't know. Can't know. But I worry that if you did, you'd make different choices. If you found out any of my truths that you would feel repulsed, horrified that someone like me had ever touched you, kissed you, loved you…"

"We've had this conversation before, James," Harper shook her head, sounding equal parts exasperated and gentle. "So long as none of these truths that you are ashamed of were a product of your free will, so long as no harms committed against others were somehow satisfying to you, then I don't care. I've seen to some extent how deeply you've internalized all of this guilt, this pain. And I'm not naïve; I know you've hidden a lot of your pain from me. But in a way, that's reassuring to me that none of these things that haunt you were things you would have chosen to do. You're not some sick piece of shit that gets off on violence and the pain of others. You're the protector, the big brother, the best friend, the boyfriend who is more in tune with what other people need and deserve than what he does. And that's the man that I love; not this past version of yourself that you see."

"Can't you see where I'm coming from?" he asked, hands clenching tightly again.

"I can," she nodded. "And I hope you know that I'm not ever going to expect you to share anything that you don't want to with me. But by that same token, you can't use what you haven't told me against me."

"I know, Harper, I just…" Bucky sighed, lowering his face to his hands. "I know that it's not being fair to you. I know I'm being really fucked up. It just… the thought that I'm the only person to have ever been with you like this…"

"James, hun," she implored, "think about this. What are our options moving forward from this? If you don't want to be my first, then logic follows…"

"God, no that's worse," he interrupted, sickened by the thought of another man having her so long as she was his. "So much worse."

"Then what now?"

"I'm really sorry about how tonight has gone," he replied, forcing his voice to come out steadily, despite the deluge of emotions still swirling around in his chest. "This… information caught me off guard, and it is something I have always had maybe more traditional views about than you. I understand what you're getting at; there aren't any options more favorable than me getting over it. I just need some time."

"Well, don't think that my goal in having this conversation was to head back into my bedroom and let you right back between my legs," Harper replied testily. "I love you, and I do hear where you're coming from, but I'm still hurt."

He lifted his head, feeling guilty all over again when he realized he had lost focus on her feelings. "I'm really sorry, Harper."

She sighed. "I know you are, James."

He didn't miss that he hadn't yet been forgiven. Scrubbing at his knees anxiously, he muttered, "I'll head home then. Give you space."

Harper pursed her lips before shaking her head. "That's not necessary."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Want some more cake? I hardly ate any earlier, because I was afraid of popping out of that dress."

"I'd love some more cake," he nodded weakly. Hesitantly, he added, "You didn't need to worry earlier."

She hummed non-committedly, and disappeared into the kitchen. Bucky sank back into the couch, suddenly exhausted. What was he supposed to do? If Harper said something self-deprecating, should he not correct her, because it was his words that had shaken her in the first place? Or did saying nothing make it seem like he, in fact, didn't find her as attractive as he claimed? Was she baiting him, testing him on purpose?

Maybe Harper wasn't always quite as sweet and forgiving as he thought.

The next few weeks passed painfully slowly. It had begun to snow regularly, which made working at the docks absolutely miserable for the cold-hating brunet. And Harper had been even frostier. Not overtly. She was somewhat subtle. Bucky almost wished she would just yell at him again.

In a lot of ways, he couldn't blame her for being upset with him. He'd be upset with him if he had been in her place. He just wished she could empathize more with his line of thinking. He knew that she understood him – that much had always proven true – but empathy was certainly not something she had in this case. Their ideas about the sanctity of her purity were too polarized, and he figured that's where all of this had started, really. He freaked out because, for him, taking a dame's innocence was a weighty decision. For her, it seemed like she was only still pure out of happenstance, rather than any sort of commitment to waiting for the right person.

Ultimately, he could logically admit that she was right; it was entirely her choice what to do with her body, and he didn't get to exercise his will over her. He had spent decades as a shell, a body used by others. He couldn't force his will or his values on anyone else, least of all Harper. But knowing that didn't do much to alleviate his guilt for lying to her or touching her with his blood drenched hands.

Admittedly, Harper was also right in that their options were limited. They could move forward separately, which he absolutely did not want. Or they could either give the honor of taking her innocence to another man – the thought of which made Bucky see red and want to vomit simultaneously – or he would have to set aside his own troubled thoughts over everything and have her himself. Even before they went to bed that night, he had already vowed that this would be the solution. Well, whenever she would let him have her, that is.

It was a palpable relief when he received a text from Harper on his way home from work one day.

Harper: Another cluster cycle is starting. Could you come over, please?

His heart hurt for her, hating that she had to experience such tremendous pain yet again. But the fact that she was calling upon his company in her most vulnerable time made him hopeful that things between them might actually stand a chance at healing.

A/N: Many thanks for all the feedback! I'm glad that the spice wasn't awkward or cringe-worthy. There is one more spicy scene, more conflict, and more fluff on the way. I'm glad that it seems Bucky is coming off the way I wanted him to. I imagine over the course of his relationship with Harper, who is so independent and quirky and sensitive to his traumas, Bucky would be able to grow into a more modern version of who he was before enlisting. Like he could actually begin to heal and detach himself from identifying as the Winter Soldier, a fighter. Also, I hope that Harper has been an interesting character. I worry that because this story is told only from Bucky's point of view that she may come off as being a Mary Sue who is too perfect, but that's really just how Bucky sees her. Hence his fleeting realization here about her occassional passive aggressions. Maybe I'm explaining too much. Regardless, I truly appreciate all of the continued support. Thank you again!