12 Days Before Christmas
Bucky laid on his side, watching Chanel sleep as restlessly as he felt. Despite the Christmas cheer that she had injected into his life, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. What was supposed to be a relaxing evening at one of Brooklyn's many Christmas markets had turned into a fight–though Chanel would say it was nothing.
"What's going on with you?" Bucky asked as he searched Chanel's face for a sign.
He was sure she hadn't heard a word he said as they strolled through the market.
"Nothing," Chanel answered too quickly.
Her eyes were scanning the crowd; she swore she saw a flash of a red tracksuit. There were too many people here; she was too exposed.
"Hey," Bucky pulled her into a secluded corner. "What is it? Just tell me."
"Bucky, I said it was nothing! Okay? Just let it go." Chanel tried to walk away from him, back into the crowd.
Bucky grabbed her elbow but couldn't get a word out before Chanel pushed him off.
"Can we just enjoy our evening, please?"
"Fine," Bucky relented, following behind her as she put a fake smile on her face.
They had barely spoken after that–Bucky couldn't pretend he wasn't upset, and Chanel refused to admit anything was wrong.
Was it him? Was he the problem? Maybe she was changing her mind about him–she was tired of him. Just the thought made his chest tight. It had been so long since he was this close to someone, he didn't think he would survive being alone again.
Chanel stirred again, a soft whimper leaving her lips, her brows deeply furrowed.
"Chanel? It's okay." Bucky reached out to shake her awake.
She sat up with a gasp and jerked out of his touch.
"You're okay; I'm right here."
Chanel didn't look at him as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to the bathroom.
"Hey, wait!" Bucky sat up and turned on his lamp, but the bathroom door was already shut.
He knocked softly; he could hear her sniffles as she tried not to cry. "Doll? Let me in; what's going on?"
"I'm fine; go back to sleep!"
"I can stay out here all night," Bucky said quietly.
Neither of them had woken up from a nightmare since they had been together—he was perturbed now.
Chanel didn't respond, and he sighed loud enough for her to hear, resting his forehead against the door.
"We're a team now, doll. I know you haven't been doing well; you gotta talk to me."
He paused, waiting for her response, and then nearly fell over when she wrenched the door open.
"I said I was fine," Chanel tried to slip past him, but he grabbed her arm.
"Doll–" Bucky paused for a moment, the smell of alcohol on her breath throwing him off. "Were you drinking?"
Chanel pulled her arm away from him. "I'm not doing this right now."
"Why can't you just talk to me?!"
Chanel paused with her hand on the bedroom doorknob; alarm bells went off in her head–run. She suddenly felt suffocated. She pulled the door open without saying anything else and slammed it shut behind her.
Chanel paced around the living room; her hands felt numb, her heart was racing as she tried to suck in oxygen.
Fuck, I haven't been this bad in so long.
If she hadn't been wearing her skimpy silk pajamas, she would have gone for a run–but she couldn't go back to the bedroom now. She couldn't face him.
She put her hands behind her head and took long deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before exhaling. When her heart rate slowed, she sank into the living room chair and tried to curl into a comfortable position.
Why didn't we buy a couch? There's no way I can sleep here. Should have kicked him out of the room–dumb.
Fighting was a big part of every adult relationship Chanel had been in. She and Stephan fought at least once a week over the most trivial things: she was taking too long to get ready, he didn't bring her the right flowers, they couldn't agree on what kind of wine to have with dinner. She was constantly on the defensive with Stephan; otherwise, she risked losing her power in the relationship. She couldn't talk to Stephan about her feelings–that would give him leverage. She had to protect herself.
But Bucky–Bucky made her feel safe. She didn't need to fight with him to keep her power.
Shit.
As stubborn as ever, Chanel continued to lay in her uncomfortable position until her legs were cramping and her arm was asleep. Only then did she finally force herself to get up and go back to the bedroom.
She peeked in, Bucky's back was to her, his chest rising and falling lightly. Silently she slipped back into bed, cuddling against his back.
"You okay?" He mumbled, turning around to hold her against his chest.
Chanel nodded, sinking in to his comfort. "I'm sorry. This is new for me, okay? I'm not used to this."
"Not used to what?"
"Trusting you with my heart," Chanel whispered.
"I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise." Bucky held her closer. "Do you want to talk about the dream? Was it Stephan?"
"No," she lied. "It was you."
Bucky tensed, his hands falling away from her as he turned on his back. "I'm sorry."
He was already shutting himself down–he knew it was all too good to be true. His brain cruelly replayed the image of his vibranium hand around her throat, her eyes full of fear. A similar look had been in her eyes when she flinched away from him and locked herself in the bathroom.
Chanel sat up, starting to panic again. "Wait, don't be mad–I'm trying. Just–Bucky!" She grabbed his arm as he tried to get out of bed. "I'm trying, I want to let you in–I–" Chanel wiped a tear off her cheek and tried to keep her voice steady. "In my dream, you were being hurt, and I couldn't get to you–I couldn't do anything but watch."
Bucky's hardened shell softened. "Oh–" he turned back around to face her. "You don't have to say anything else, doll. Tell me when you're ready." He held her close as she sat in his lap.
"I thought you were mad at me," Chanel whispered as she clung to him.
"No, never. When you said you had a dream about me–I thought it was–bad. And you pushed me away when I tried to touch you."
Chanel pulled back and looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm not afraid of you, Bucky; I've never been afraid of you."
"Old habits," Bucky shrugged. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
Chanel shook her head. "I just need to hold you."
She buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried to relax, rubbing his cold metal dog tags between her fingers. The part of the dream she told him about was true; she just left out the part where she was being forced to save either him or Stephan and she couldn't do it—she couldn't choose.
Bucky felt her hot tears on his neck and held her closer. "We can talk about him, you know? I know you're hurting. You don't have to pretend for me."
Chanel remained still and quiet, pretending she was asleep.
"I love you," Bucky whispered and kissed the top of her head.
"Guess what!" Chanel bounded into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Bucky's waist.
Bucky was taken aback by her chipper voice.
Is she just going to pretend that last night didn't happen?
When she kissed his cheek, he smelt it—her breath was minty with a faint twinge of alcohol underneath.
He watched her as she moved to the fridge for a water bottle and then placed herself on the counter next to him.
"Hello? I said, guess what."
"Sorry, uh, what's up?" Bucky turned off the oven and pulled a tray of bacon out.
"I just got off the phone with Sam. Both of you have been invited to the opening night of Rogers."
Bucky frowned at her. "And?"
Chanel rolled her eyes. "All of you remaining Avengers are invited as special guests. Don't you want to go?"
"Hard pass," Bucky laughed as he put bread in the toaster. "Do you want a breakfast sandwich?"
Chanel was already picking a piece of hot bacon off the tray. "No," she said with her mouth full. "I'll probably pick up a smoothie when I'm out."
"Out? Where are we going?"
Bucky piled his toast with the whole pan of eggs and six slices of bacon.
Chanel hopped off the counter. "Not we; I've got to go Christmas shopping for you."
"I'll close my eyes, promise."
Chanel smiled at him as she put her shoes on. "Bucky, to be honest, I just need some alone time too. Is that okay?"
"Oh–is something wrong? Did I do something last night?"
Chanel slipped on her jacket and wrapped a scarf around her neck. "Nothing is wrong. We've been together every second of the day for like two weeks. I'm sure you need a break too."
"Yeah, sure." Bucky turned back to the stove, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Oh, don't look so sad," Chanel grabbed her purse, grumbling about how much she hated the old ratty thing and went to kiss his cheek. "I'll be back before you know it. We're still going to see Christmas lights tonight, yeah?"
"Yeah," Bucky pulled her closer. "Be careful. Love you."
"Love you more," she said with a smile. "Think about the musical!"
Bucky watched her leave, his apartment way too quiet without her in it.
Jesus–I can survive one day on my own.
He sat at the table and turned the tv on for noise—his thoughts were too loud in the silence. Chanel had made it clear that she wasn't ready to be completely open with him, but he needed to do something. She was drinking—in secret, she wasn't sleeping, she was anxious and secretive. And he had never said anything, but he had noticed the bottle of pills slip from Chanel's hand when he and Sam busted through her French doors in Germany. The little white pills scattering all over the plush carpet. Bucky found it curious how strongly he longed to kill a man that was already dead.
Maybe I should call Sam—
Bucky tapped his greasy fingers on his phone but decided against it.
I'll just talk to her tonight. That's what partners are supposed to do–talk to each other.
As he finished his breakfast, he refocused on figuring out how to spend his day.
Lunch with Nakajima–no, bad idea.
I could check in with Sam about the Flag Smashers..but I'm not supposed to be working.
He stared at the Christmas tree, his one gift sitting under it, and got an idea.
Christmas shopping it is.
The wall of purses in every shape, size, and color had Bucky utterly overwhelmed. A sales attendant had already tried to help him, but he didn't even know what to ask for. Sensing an easy sale, she showed him the most expensive options and finally moved on to a new target when a wealthy-looking older couple approached.
He knew he was probably overthinking this way too much, but he wanted the gift to be perfect. He tried calling Yelena, who knew less about purses than Bucky did.
"Is Sam there?" Bucky sighed.
"No, he's out with his nephews. And I'm offended you want his opinion over mine."
"Yelena, you told me to get her a vest with pockets—I'm sorry if I want a second opinion."
"You're making a mistake but whatever. Hey, are you going to the musical thing? Sam wants to know if we can crash at your place."
"Absolutely not," Bucky scoffed. "You're going?"
"Sounded fun, so is that a yes on the apartment?"
Bucky felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and turned around. "Hey, I gotta go–real help has arrived. And no, you two can not stay here–my apartment is tiny, and I don't even have a couch."
"Fine–go with the vest."
"I'm hanging up now."
Bucky ended the phone call. "Sorry about that," he awkwardly gave Nicki a side hug when she went in for a real one.
"So, what am I here to help with?" Nicki asked with an excited smile.
"Yeah, I'm sorry for bothering you–you didn't have to come all the way down here; I could have just sent you pictures."
"I was already in the area," she lied. "Plus, I love Macy's. What's up?"
"I'm trying to pick a purse for Chanel, and I am totally lost."
Bucky looked away, distracted by noise only he could hear, and missed Nicki's face fall.
"Oh, sure, I can help with that. What does she like?"
Bucky turned around. His eyes swept the store. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"I thought I heard–never mind. Um, I don't know, she likes black?"
"Black is a bit boring for a gift–you want it to make an impression."
Bucky refocused as Nicki walked through the aisles of dark-colored purses, making a beeline for the bright hues ahead.
Chanel dived into a clothes rack and tried to catch her breath. Things were not going as planned—she had not planned on running through Macy's trying to hide from the Tracksuit Mafia. Ivan was supposed to be alone—an easy target. But when she separated him from the crowd, a knife pressed to his back, she was blindsided by the rest of his gang. She had barely been able to escape—running into Macy's to evade them.
"Gotcha!"
Ivan's hand reached into the clothes rack, but Chanel was too quick. She grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back as she jumped out of her hiding spot.
"What the hell happened to your hand?" Chanel twisted his arm further as she looked at the round wound in the middle of his palm.
"Fuckin' arrows," he spat.
"Arrows?" Chanel ducked just as one whizzed past her head and landed at the feet of another Tracksuit approaching. Orange goo gushed out of the arrow and cemented his feet to the floor.
"What the fuck?" Chanel whipped around and caught a glimpse of a young woman dressed in purple and black running away.
"Sorry!" She yelled over her shoulder.
While still staring after the dark-haired woman, Chanel powered on her taser bracelet and gave a quick shot to the back of her victim's neck, knocking him out.
"I wouldn't stick around here if I were you."
Chanel turned back around, on her feet, ready to attack.
Clint bent over and retrieved the trick arrow off the ground.
"Clint? What are you doing here?" Chanel relaxed her posture.
She had only met Clint Barton a couple of times. Nat liked to keep her Avenger life separate from her friendship with Chanel, but Clint had been the one exception.
"Disappointing my family. You?"
Chanel followed him as he jogged away.
"I was trying to get these assholes off my back. Care to help?"
"I'm a bit busy with my own thing right now," Clint fired an arrow up to the level above them, setting off a cloud of smoke. "I suggest you get out of here before that wears off, and they can see again."
"Wait, do you know who they're working for?"
"No idea–German, I think."
Chanel threw her arms up in frustration as Clint leaped over the railing and left her alone.
She looked around, smiling sheepishly at the stunned patrons. She was in the clear right now–she looked over the railing; the lower level was empty too. She started to turn around but did a double-take when she heard a familiar voice from down below.
Was that–?
"Shit!" her thought was cut off when her feet were swept from underneath her. She rolled out of the way as one of the Tracksuits aimed his foot at her face.
She scrambled to her feet, ducking behind one of the perfume counters. "Excuse me, sorry!" She pushed the employees out of the way as she ran, throwing expensive glass bottles at the assailants behind her.
"Are you sure this is the one?"
"Yes!" Nicki nudged Bucky's elbow.
He looked over the bright yellow, floral handbag one more time before reluctantly handing over his debit card.
"Trust me, she's gonna love it." Nicki looked up to the floor above them. "I think something is going on up there."
Bucky followed her gaze; there was a weird cloud of smoke and–was that Clint Barton?
He watched Clint run out of the store with a young woman and then looked back to the second level. He couldn't see anything, but he could hear people yelling and glass shattering.
"We need to go," Bucky grabbed the gift bag from the saleswoman and pulled Nicki out of the store.
He searched the streets for Clint, but he was already gone.
"Is everything okay?" Nicki barely got the words out before Bucky was shoving her into a cab.
"Yeah," Bucky said, distracted as he dialed Chanel's number.
"Um, okay—are you getting in?"
Bucky shut the door, barely looking at her as she stuck her head out the window. "No—thanks for your help, though."
Come on, pick up, pick up.
Dammit, Chanel, where are you?
Bucky kept calling, walking as fast as he could back toward home.
Chanel slid down the escalator and ran toward an emergency exit as fast as possible.
How many of these assholes are there?!
For every Tracksuit she took down, two more took his place. Three of them were on her heels—she needed to lose them outside.
Can I get into a cab before they catch up to me?
Chanel turned over her shoulder—there were five of them now—she had no choice but to keep running. She pushed through the emergency exit, setting off the alarm, and ran around the building toward the street. She skidded to a stop in front of a shiny black motorcycle, the keys and helmet sitting on the seat as if left there just for her.
Another lucky break, I must have a guardian angel.
Chanel stuffed the helmet over her curly hair and took off, leaving the Tracksuits behind. She abandoned the bike a few blocks away and hailed a cab.
She sat in the stiff seat–exhausted, and pulled out her vibrating phone. Bucky had already called six times.
"I'm sorry, I didn't hear my phone," Chanel sighed, already dreading the panic she knew she would hear in his voice.
"Are you okay?" Bucky tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt.
"Yes, I'm on my way home. What's wrong?"
"I saw Clint today. At Macy's—he was fighting someone."
"Oh?" Chanel bit her lip.
"Yeah, I just needed to know where you were."
"All good, no excitement on my end." Chanel felt a trickle of blood on her cheek and cursed under her breath.
"Thank god, I'll see you soon."
Chanel hung up and pulled her compact out of her purse–her face was a mess. She'd have to explain this cut on her cheek, and as she relaxed into the seat and felt how sore she was, she knew there would be bruises to explain.
She needed to be more careful.
Excited to show Chanel the dinner he had prepared, Bucky opened the door before she even knocked.
His face dropped when he saw her. "What happened?" Bucky pulled her into the kitchen to look at her better. His eyes were wide as he examined her cuts and bruises.
"I um–" Chanel fumbled, trying to find an excuse he would accept. "I wasn't paying attention, and I fell in the subway station. It's not a big deal."
Bucky took a deep breath, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it and led her into the bathroom.
"Wait!" Chanel cringed when Bucky opened the cabinet to get the first aid kit.
He stood up and turned around slowly with her bottle of vodka in his hand.
"Chanel–"
"Don't make a big deal out of this; it's nothing."
"Nothing? Look at you!"
Chanel frowned and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Oh.
That's why he bought the excuse so quickly. He thinks I'm a drunk.
"Did you think I hadn't noticed? Your hands shaking? The smell of alcohol on your breath? Did you even go Christmas shopping, or were you out drinking?"
Bucky opened the bottle and poured it down the bathroom sink.
Chanel's face flushed as she watched him—she was too mortified to do or say anything. How had she forgotten to get him a gift?
"Chanel–you've got to stop this. It's not healthy."
Embarrassment quickly turned to rage, and Chanel pushed him away when he tried to touch her. "Nothing is wrong with me!"
"I didn't say that–" Bucky followed Chanel back to the kitchen.
"Yes, you did. You don't get to tell me what to do, Barnes!" Chanel grabbed his backpack and scarf.
"What are you doing?"
Chanel shoved the bag into his hands. "Leave."
"What?" Bucky scoffed. "I'm not leaving." He stood still as Chanel opened the apartment door. "I'm just trying to protect you!"
Chanel rolled her eyes. "God, you sound just like Stephan. I don't need your protection. Please–I just need some space."
Bucky shut down completely, stalking past her and slamming the door without saying anything else.
He heard Chanel lock the door behind him and his fist clenched. He was about to leave the building when Nicki's door opened, her head popping out.
"Everything okay?"
Bucky gave her the best smile he could muster. "Great."
Nicki stood in her doorway, eyeing him. "You know I can hear through these walls, right?"
Bucky nodded and avoided her eyes. "Sorry." He started to walk toward the elevators.
"You could hang out here until she cools down–if you want."
Bucky didn't think about it; he nodded his head and went in. He would rather wait next door than wander around in the cold New York streets.
Chanel sank into the warm water of her bath and sighed. Her body was sore, and her mind was racing. With no more alcohol left in the apartment, she had taken a Xanax, and it was finally starting to kick in.
Maybe I was too hard on him.
Balancing everything was clearly not working. The only reason she was keeping secrets from him was to make him happy. Yet, they had spent most of the past 24 hours fighting.
Stephan was so easy to distract. I could give Bucky the best sex of his life and he'd be back to quizzing me right after. Why can't he just be oblivious like most men?
She closed her eyes and let the pill relax her from head to toe.
I just need to do better; wrap this up. Clint said the boss was German…
Her thoughts started to get jumbled as her eyelids got heavy. Bucky's hurt face took a front seat.
I'll apologize after a nap. Everything is better after a nap.
Bucky sat on Nicki's couch, fidgeting, waiting for Chanel to call.
Growing frustrated with Bucky staring at his phone, Nicki cleared her throat and moved closer to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Bucky shrugged. "We've never had a fight like this before. Should I just go back? Should I call her? It's been an hour! Waiting seems like the wrong move."
"It's just your first fight; it's not a big deal. Give her space—you're welcome to stay here as long as you want."
Bucky looked back at his phone. "I was just trying to help her, but maybe I was too nosy."
Bucky didn't know how much Nicki had heard, but he didn't want to give her too many details. He hated seeing Chanel struggle, but he hated her being angry with him just as much, maybe more.
"How about some wine?" Nicki didn't wait for an answer, quickly hopping up to grab a bottle and glasses.
"I'm gonna go; I can't just keep sitting here."
Bucky abruptly stood up and left just as Chanel opened his apartment door.
"Chanel–I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"So sorry that the first place you go when I kick you out is her apartment?" Chanel rolled her eyes and tried to shut the door on him.
Bucky forced his way in and followed her into the living room. He grabbed her waist, pulling her down with him as he sat in the living room chair.
"You're being ridiculous," he muttered in her ear. "I love you, and I'm sorry."
Chanel crossed her arms but didn't get out of his lap.
He pulled her closer against his chest, one hand roaming over her thigh. "You know I just don't like seeing you in pain. I want you to be happy. I want to be there to get rid of anything that makes you unhappy, to kiss all your wounds and put a smile on your pretty face."
Chanel turned around, resting her forehead against his. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I said you were like Stephan. You're nothing like him, and I love you so much."
"I know, doll. I know."
"Can I make it up to you?"
Bucky gently pushed her lips away from his neck and held her face in his hands. "You don't need to make anything up. But, we will be late for the Christmas lights tour if we don't leave now."
"Okay," Chanel gave him a quick kiss on the nose before jumping up to find her shoes.
Bucky relaxed, happy that she wasn't mad at him anymore. Maybe she didn't have a problem–perhaps he was just being too overprotective. He trusted her to make smart decisions–he just needed to leave it alone.
"Ready?"
"Yeah," Bucky smiled and led her out the door.
**.
10 Days Before Christmas
Chanel had been sure the Tracksuit Mafia would come after her again. But nothing happened. As she lay in bed, half-asleep and lazily kissing Bucky, she thought she might make it through Christmas without incident after all.
She pushed herself closer to his warm body, the spicy scent of his body wash increasing her neediness. "Why are you up so early?" She mumbled sleepily.
Bucky grabbed her thigh and lifted her leg over his hip. "Needed you," he breathed against her lips.
"I'm yours."
Bucky's hand gently caressed her breast, his thumb slowly rolling over her hardened nipple. His thrusts were slow and lazy and precisely what they both needed. Their quiet gasps and moans filled the room.
"So perfect, doll." Bucky squeezed a little harder as his thrusts sped up. "Was dreaming about you, tried not to wake you up but—" Bucky lost his breath as Chanel fluttered around him. "—you're so damn soft and warm."
Chanel slipped her hand between them and circled her clit until she squeezed her eyes shut in pleasure.
"Fuck, why don't you wake me up like this every morning?" Chanel sighed happily, snuggling deeper under the comforter and closer to Bucky's side.
"Can we just stay like this all day?" Bucky wrapped his arm tightly around her.
Before Chanel could reply, there was a knock on the front door and Sam's unmistakable voice calling out.
"You've got to be kidding me," Bucky groaned, pulling the comforter up over their heads.
"What is happening?" Chanel tried to squirm free from Bucky's hold, but he tightened his arms around her.
"He thinks he's staying here; I told him no. Ignore him—I don't wanna get up."
"Bucky—come on, we can lay in bed anytime. Let me up." Chanel pushed his shoulder playfully until he relented.
"Fuck–" Bucky huffed as Chanel left his side, and the pounding on the front door continued. "I'm gonna kill him."
"What part of no you can not stay here did you not understand?" Bucky grumbled, his head already pounding as Yelena and Sam excitedly entered the apartment.
"It's only for a couple nights, just until after the musical. Come on, man, please?" Sam sat his bags down and went to hug Chanel.
"Yeah, Buck, let them stay." Chanel pouted at him as she hugged Yelena.
"Fine," Bucky mumbled. "But I don't know where you're going to sleep."
"No worries, I brought an air mattress. We got it all figured out."
"Sam, you can't sleep on an air mattress; you're still wearing a cast!" Chanel helped him sit at the table and propped his crutches against the wall. "You can sleep in the bedroom. Bucky and I can sleep on the air mattress. Right, Buck?"
Sam and Chanel chuckled as Bucky rolled his eyes and mumbled his complaints under his breath.
7 Days Before Christmas
Bucky has enjoyed Sam's and Yelena's company in his own way. Laughing along with them until he was drained and had to sneak away for some peace. Eventually, Chanel would come find him, nestled in the bedroom with a book in his hands, and drag him back to the living room. At first, he didn't quite understand why he had to be there; he rarely participated in the conversation—but then he realized she just wanted his presence. She wanted to sit in his lap and play with his hair and watch him smile. And how could he possibly deny her that?
But now–as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Chanel dressing for the day–he wanted their friends gone.
"Bucky, I can feel you staring at my ass. We can't."
"Can we just kick them out then?"
"You know I want to as much as you, but no. We can last a few more days without sex, right?"
Bucky scoffed, and Chanel giggled.
She stopped getting ready, dressed in just her robe as she went to sit next to him. "So, if you and Sam are going out today, don't you think I should give you my Christmas list now?"
Bucky pulled her into his lap and looked at her sternly. "Have you been nice, doll?"
Chanel bit back her laugh and played along, looking up at him through her thick lashes. "Oh no, I've been very, very naughty."
"Hmmm," Bucky ran his fingertips lightly over her thigh, moving her thin robe out of the way. "How naughty?"
Chanel licked her lips as he looked down on her, his eyes smoldering. "Well, my boyfriend likes to get me into trouble."
"Oh, he does?"
Chanel nodded, watching Bucky's jaw clench just slightly.
I should stop this, but—
Chanel shifted her hips, chills shooting up her spine when she felt how hard Bucky was already.
It's too late.
Bucky gripped her hips, holding her still. "What were you saying about that boyfriend, doll?" Bucky teased.
Chanel swallowed hard as his hand slipped under her robe. His fingers toyed with the thin string around her hips, pulling it up, down, rubbing it between his fingers, but never attempting to pull the fabric down her thighs like she wanted.
"I can't resist him," she whispered, moving one hand up to play with his hair. "He has the sweetest puppy dog eyes, and he makes me want to cuddle with him on a cold day, but then he takes his shirt off, and he has all these big muscles, and I just want to drop to my knees and swallow his big fat co—"
Chanel giggled as Bucky kissed her needily. "I wasn't done."
"I got the picture," Bucky huffed against her lips as he frantically undid his belt with one hand while his other blindly searched for the condoms.
"Lucky for you," Bucky pushed her robe apart and roughly shoved his throbbing cock into her. "Naughty girls get the best presents." His gravelly whisper was both a promise and a threat in her ear.
"Fuck!" Chanel yelped at the sudden pain of him stretching her out. "Fucking hell—Bucky move," she begged, her eyes wide with lust.
Bucky covered her mouth with his hand, pulled out, and slammed back in; his only focus was on getting her off.
"Be quiet for me, okay, doll?"
Chanel nodded and whimpered as he took his hand off her mouth. He lifted her hips and drilled the blunt tip of his cock into her sweet spot over and over again until she couldn't contain the shout of his name.
Bucky slapped her thigh and shushed her; she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Every muscle in his body was pulled taut as he tried not to come; he wanted to give her as many as possible first—but as she let out a particularly pornographic moan and begged him to fill her up, he settled on just giving her one for the moment.
"Doll—'m not—not gonna last. Need ya to come for me," Bucky groaned and quickly circled her clit with his thumb.
He was barely holding himself back as her thighs started to shake around his waist and her pussy clenched him like a vice as she came.
"Fuck—so tight, can't even move, doll—" Bucky buried his face in her neck as she rode out her high on his throbbing dick.
As she came down and found her voice, she grabbed Bucky's hair and lifted him up to meet her eyes. "Wanna feel you fill me up, baby," she whispered hoarsely.
Bucky almost came right then—it wasn't going to take him long. He pulled out of her and flipped her over. He left the condom on, knowing she was speaking figuratively. She arched her back for him, and he groaned as he started to slide back into her tight heat.
"Chanel!" Yelena's voice yelled from behind their closed bedroom door as she banged her fist on the wood. "Are you done?! We're trying to eat breakfast out here!"
"Fuck," Bucky muttered as Chanel quickly sat up and made herself somewhat decent.
"Go away! We're busy!" Bucky pulled Chanel back toward him as she tried to slide off the bed. "No, no, I'm not done with you," he whispered to her.
"Buck—" Chanel looked toward the door again as Yelena banged on it. "She's not gonna go away."
"Sam won't let me go back to the kitchen until you stop. Plus, we've got to go anyway, Chanel. We're late. If you don't open the door, I'll just let myself in."
Bucky growled in annoyance as Chanel slid off the bed and went to the door. She opened it just enough for Yelena to see her face.
"I'm very close to kicking you both out, so please go away, and I'll get dressed."
Yelena rolled her eyes. "Hurry up."
Chanel closed the door and, to Bucky's disappointment, went to the closet instead of back to the bed.
"Doll, just real quick—" Bucky pressed up against her as she pulled a pair of pants on. "I'll be fast—I was so close anyway."
Chanel pulled a shirt over her head and turned around in his arms. "I'm sorry, Buck. But she's right; if we don't get to the salon on time—I had to pull a lot of strings to get us appointments so last minute." She pecked him on the lips and went to the bathroom to put her hair up.
"Doll," Bucky whined.
"I'll make it up to you when I get back, okay?"
Bucky sighed as he pulled his boxers back on. "Yeah, okay," he said grumpily, joining her in the bathroom. "I'll take care of this on my own for now."
"No." Chanel quickly turned and slipped her hand into his boxers, stroking him tight and fast.
Bucky groaned and backed her up against the sink, his hands gripping the counter tightly. It's not what he wanted, but in his current state, he would take anything he could get.
"No, you leave this for me," Chanel lifted his chin to make him look at her. "I'll take care of it later." She kissed his cheek and pulled her hand away.
All Bucky could do was whine and pout at her; his cock absolutely ached; he had almost come in her hand just then—she was being cruel.
"You gonna be a good boy?" Chanel cooed.
"God—ye—yes," Bucky stuttered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the counter even tighter.
Chanel kissed him with a pleased smile on her face. "See you later, baby."
Bucky watched her leave, his cock throbbing in frustration. As soon as she was out of the room, he stuffed his hand down his pants and pumped himself quickly—he could still smell her pussy, taste her lips—he was so close to coming over his fist. He groaned as he pulled his hand away at the last second, his cock throbbing uselessly in the confines of his boxers.
He took a cold shower, but his super-soldier dick still stood stiff and proud, leaking precum everywhere. He felt a little calmer, though, and got dressed before finding his phone and texting Chanel.
"When will you be back?"
Chanel sent a laughing emoji. "I left 15 mins ago."
Bucky sent back a sad face. "Miss u, love u. Have fun."
"Love you. Behave."
Bucky sighed and left the room before he started touching himself again; he had to find a distraction.
Sam was on his way out when Bucky came into the kitchen.
"Hey man, sorry to ditch you, but Torres called, and I'm gonna go meet him. I'll be back tonight."
"Oh, what's going on? Should I go with you?"
"Nah, Chanel would kill me. I know you're supposed to be on vacation right now. See ya."
Bucky groaned after Sam shut the door–he could have used that distraction.
"What do you think–should I go with extra long or extra-extra long?"
"First option," Chanel answered without looking in Yelena's direction.
"Great, very helpful." Yelena pointed to the shortest nail tip available, smiling quickly at her nail tech before turning back to Chanel. "Who are you looking for?"
"Who says I'm looking for anyone?" Chanel turned away from the window with a shrug.
"Fine, I'll go ask the guy in the tacky tracksuit across the street you've been staring at since we got here. You're not cheating, are you? Because him? Really?"
"Shut up," Chanel hissed. "It's nothing."
"So they're not following you then? You did notice the other five, right?"
"Of course, I noticed the other five." Chanel glanced out the window again.
Shit, how didn't I catch them before?
Yelena laughed, endlessly amused at Chanel's attempts to lie to her. "This better not mess up my manicure. Look, she's painting little snowmen on them. It's cute, right?"
"Adorable," Chanel sighed, glancing down at the plain black polish her tech was applying. "Listen, you can't say a word to Bucky or Sam. Okay?"
"Oh good, I was worried I was the only one you were lying to."
Chanel rolled her eyes, swallowing her annoyance. "What do you know about the Tracksuit Mafia?" Chanel asked Yelena in Russian.
"Not you too," Yelena scoffed. "I don't know much–I spoke to Barton."
"Wait, what? When?"
"The night before we showed up at your place. We stayed with him."
"How was that?"
Yelena let out a long, frustrated breath. "Too much to get into now. I just know he's after them too. A faction of them seem to be working for some woman he's never heard of–no name, but she's German. Blonde. Deep pockets. Barton says she seems like an amateur."
"Zemo called me," Chanel held her hand up to stop Yelena from interrupting. "The Power Broker is behind this, but I can't think of any German women that want me dead. It doesn't make any sense."
"So, they're trying to kill you, and you're not telling your super-soldier boyfriend because…?"
"He deserves to have a nice Christmas–he deserves the fucking world, and I'm not going to put this on his shoulders!" Chanel whisper-shouted, switching back to English. "Now, are you gonna help me fight these assholes or not?"
"I wanted to get my toes done," Yelena grumbled, reluctantly following Chanel to the register.
Bucky twitched anxiously every time Chanel even looked at him; she was chattering away as if she didn't know he was rock hard—and had been for hours.
She and Yelena had returned home about an hour ago, both of their hands full of bags–all Chanel's. He hadn't even noticed the slight bruising on both of their faces.
Bucky waited patiently for Chanel to hold up her end of the deal, but she didn't.
He was staring at her ass as she bent over the table to adjust a falling gumdrop on Yelena's gingerbread house.
"Does that sound good, baby?"
"Huh?" Bucky snapped out of his trance and frowned slightly at the glint in Chanel's eyes.
"Yelena's never been on one of those carriage rides. Do you wanna go? Sam will be back soon."
Bucky didn't want to go–he wanted her to send them away so he could finally get what he actually wanted.
"Yeah, sure."
Bucky's stomach twisted in desire when he saw the smirk on her face at his concession–she knew exactly what she was doing.
She's gonna fucking kill me.
Chanel and Bucky were settled in their horse-drawn carriage; Sam and Yelena were a few feet ahead. The carriage walls were high and long to shield them from the wind, and Chanel had brought blankets along to keep them warm.
Chanel knew Bucky was extremely on edge–his hands were balled into fists, and she wasn't even touching him yet. She caressed his thigh, and he turned to her with the most desperate look in his eyes.
"Were you a good boy for me?" She asked in a sultry voice that made him whine.
He nodded frantically. "Please."
"Please, what?"
"Need you."
"I'm right here." Her hand moved higher under the blanket and just sat there, burning a hole through his jeans.
"Please," he whined. "Need you to touch me—to make me come—please."
Her hand slid over his crotch, and she heard the sharp intake of air as he tried not to react. She moved her hand with more pressure but slower, and he groaned lowly.
"Touch you like this, baby?" She asked sweetly.
"Yes, but—" Bucky groaned louder as her hand sped up. "Can we—go—oh—go back home?" He rushed the last few words out before biting his lip to hold in his moan.
"Thought you wanted me to make you come?" Chanel undid his pants quickly and shoved her hand inside.
"Oh god, not here." Despite his protests, Bucky spread his legs further apart under the blanket. He dipped his head back, breathing hard, as she pushed him closer and closer to his orgasm.
She sucked the sweet spot on his neck and moved her hand with the sole purpose of making him come.
"Chanel—please stop," he huffed out, thrusting his hips into her hand.
"Doesn't seem like you want me to stop."
Bucky shuddered as her warm tongue trailed over his neck. The adrenaline pumping through his veins every time the carriage passed a group of people wasn't helping his situation.
"I'm—I'm gonna come if you don't stop, please!"
"It's okay, baby, just pretend you're filling up my tight little cunt," Chanel whispered as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.
"Fuck! Fuck!" Bucky couldn't stop picturing that. His brain was no longer working as his hips chased the orgasm his body so desperately needed.
Chanel giggled and kissed his flushed neck as she pulled her hand away. Bucky looked at her like he was about to cry, his chest heaving rapidly. "Please," he said brokenly.
"Soon."
Chanel called for the driver's attention and asked him to take them back. Bucky breathed a sigh of relief when they exited the carriage and headed back home.
"So, I got Sam and Yelena tickets to see the Rockettes tonight–"
Chanel's sentence was cut off as Bucky picked her up and threw her on his back as he ran through the park. He hailed the first taxi he saw, and they were home before Sam and Yelena even realized they had left.
Bucky pushed her up against the door, already pulling her clothes off.
"Bucky—slow down."
"No," Bucky groaned. "I'm so fuckin' hard—can't wait anymore."
Chanel pushed him away. "You said you were gonna be good for me."
Bucky followed her like a puppy to the bedroom and frowned when she picked up her shopping bags off the floor. "Doll, please, please, I'm dying over here."
Chanel ignored him as she took items out of her bags, all clothes, and then one small black box. "Strip and lay on the bed."
Bucky quickly did what she said, looking at the sleek black item in her hand with curiosity. He laid against the headboard, his abs tight and his cock leaking precum all over his stomach.
"I got you something if you want to try it." Chanel knelt next to him on the bed.
"What is it?" Bucky was already twitching with excitement as Chanel poured lube over the toy.
She pushed a button, and the toy vibrated in her hand—Bucky's hips involuntarily flexed.
"Think you can handle that?" Chanel asked as she started prepping him with her fingers.
"I—fuck—I don't know." Bucky screwed his eyes shut, wanting so badly to feel the toy inside him but so close to losing control just from her fingers.
"Tell me if it's too much; I just want you to feel good, kay?"
Bucky nodded, watching Chanel slowly slide the toy inside him. He groaned when it was fully settled, nuzzling right against his prostate.
Chanel got off the bed and dangled the remote in his face. "Touch yourself for me, baby. But no coming until I say."
Chanel made him watch her try on all the clothes she had bought, keeping the vibration against his prostate low. His hand moved slowly over his cock until he couldn't handle it anymore, begging Chanel for release. But all she gave him was the mercy of turning the toy off until he could start again.
He was trying so hard to be good, but as she got to the last bag, he was squirming and grinding into his hand. He could smell how wet Chanel was—she was enjoying this maybe more than she should be.
She came back out of the bathroom, and he whimpered as he thrust faster into his hand. A tiny red skirt with a white fur trim fluttered around her hips, only highlighting the little piece of lace between her legs. A big red bow covered her breasts.
"What do you think?" She twirled for him before climbing onto the bed and sitting between his legs.
"Please," he muttered as his eyes admired every curve and line of her body.
Chanel leaned forward and moved his hands out of the way. "You've been so good, baby," she whispered as she wrapped her delicate hand around his shaft.
"I have—please, wanna come," Bucky sighed as she turned the toy up and worked her hands over his cock.
"I'm gonna let you come."
Bucky relaxed at the promise, letting her build him up.
"One more thing." Chanel left the bed and came back with a red silk ribbon. "Give me your hands."
Bucky didn't hesitate; he held his hands out for her, and she quickly tied them together.
"Is this okay?" Chanel placed gentle kisses on each of his wrists.
"I'm okay," Bucky assured her. He'd never done anything like this, and part of him was surprised at how much it turned him on.
"Does that feel good?" Chanel asked as she stretched his arms above his head and attached his tied hands to the headboard.
"Ye–yes," Bucky stuttered.
"What's your color, baby?" Chanel settled between his legs again.
"Green, very green." Bucky flexed his muscles, testing the restraints.
Chanel took a moment to admire him, his muscles taut and glistening as he tried to regulate his breathing. Of course, he could easily get out of her restraints, but that just made it so much hotter—he was allowing her to do this to him—trusted her enough to allow it, to want it.
"So sexy, Buck. I've been so wet for you all day." Chanel leaned forward and gently sucked the tip of his dick, her tongue kitten licking him.
Bucky couldn't speak; only desperate moans would come out of his mouth.
She kept her mouth on his tip only as her hand worked the rest of his shaft. She could feel him swell in her hand and knew he was getting close. She slid her mouth down a little further and moaned at the broken whine that left his mouth.
"I'm gonna come—don't stop." Bucky managed to get out between moans as the plates in his vibranium arm whirred with the effort to keep his hands where they were.
Chanel pulled her mouth off and slowed down her hand. "You wanna come in my mouth or my pussy?"
Bucky groaned and threw his head back. "I—I don't know, please!"
Chanel turned off the toy and pulled a condom out of the bedside table drawer, slowly rolling it onto his red cock.
"Yes, yes, yes, please," Bucky panted as she straddled him and teased the tip of his dick at her dripping entrance.
Chanel slowly sank down on him, letting herself feel every inch of him. "So big, Bucky. You feel so good," she moaned.
His fingernails dug harshly into his palm. He was about to come, and he needed it more than he needed air.
"Gonna come, oh fuck, oh fuck," he sighed as he bottomed out in her. "So fucking tight. Move doll," he groaned.
Ignoring his begging, Chanel leaned forward, keeping him stuffed inside her, and kissed him. She traced his bow-shaped lips with the tip of her tongue, making him groan when she bit his plush bottom lip. How was it possible for someone to have such a pretty mouth?
"You been thinking about filling me up all day?"
Bucky nodded. "Please, please! I—oh fuck I'm right there, doll, please." His eyes were screwed shut in frustration. He wanted to scream—he was finally buried in her warm, velvety walls; his balls were heavy and tight in anticipation of the orgasm that was seconds away—and she wouldn't fucking move.
"So hot when you beg—beg a little more, baby, and I'll let you fill my teasing little pussy with all that hot cum." Chanel reached back and gently squeezed his balls to punctuate her sentence.
Bucky shouted nonsense as he squirmed underneath her.
"Use your words, Buck." Chanel drug her fingernails down his chest, just hard enough to leave light red marks.
"Please! I'll do whatever you want—need you so bad—been going fucking crazy since this morning." Bucky groaned when she still didn't move. "Please, I've been so good—I wanted to come so bad when you were gone."
"Did you touch yourself?" Chanel picked up the remote and teased her finger over the button, smirking when Bucky's cock twitched inside of her.
"Yes," Bucky sighed, his arm whirring again as he fought the urge to break free and take what he needed from her. "I—I—fuck Chanel, let me come!" Bucky's dominant side started to seep through as he practically growled the words out.
Unamused with his outburst, Chanel leaned back, resting her hands on his trembling thighs. The position put her even more on display for him. His eyes raked down her body, starting with the displeased frown on her face, pausing briefly on her chest, wrapped up like a gift from God, down her taut abs, over her soft hips—he squeezed his eyes shut when he caught sight of the space where they were joined together, afraid the view alone would send him over the edge.
"Open your eyes," Chanel snapped, just barely rolling her hips. "Look at how perfectly you fit inside me."
"I can't," Bucky groaned when Chanel moved her hips again. "I'm gonna come," he whispered with a slight tremble.
"No, you're not. Only good boys get to come."
Bucky's eyes flew open; he was about to argue but swallowed it. She wanted his submission. And fuck, he would give her whatever she wanted.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please."
"Do what I told you."
Bucky reluctantly dragged his eyes down to the lacy thong shoved to the side, making room for his thick cock to stretch her out. Chanel lifted her hips just enough for him to see the base of his cock, drenched in her juices.
Bucky couldn't help it; he closed his eyes again, straining against his restraints. "I'm sorry, it's too much! I can't fucking think about anything but pounding into your pussy until my cum is dripping down your thighs."
"Fuck, Bucky," Chanel moaned, her body clenching on reflex. "Gonna make my good boy come, kay?" Chanel started bouncing herself on him hard and fast.
Bucky grunted as he lifted his hips, meeting her with every thrust. "Thank you, oh please," Bucky's face screwed up in pleasure as he thrust up into her. "Oh please, don't stop. Please, please, gonna come." Bucky didn't realize he was shouting as he begged her for his release.
Chanel was nearly as wound up as he was, and looking down at him—every muscle in his colossal body flexing—begging her for his release was too much for her to take.
She moaned his name as she reached her peak. "Come, baby, fill me up."
The combination of Chanel turning the vibration on the highest setting and her walls fluttering around him was it for Bucky. He broke the tie around his wrists and dug his fingers into her hips hard as his cock twitched wildly inside her. No sound came out of his mouth as he came. The pleasure was too much; all he could do was hold her hips flush against his as he let rope after rope of cum fill the condom.
As he came down, he groaned, "god damn, I can't feel my legs. That was so—so," Bucky lost his train of thought; his eyes were slightly unfocused as he stared up at Chanel.
Chanel giggled and kissed his lips. "Glad you liked it—it was hot as hell."
Bucky's chest was still heaving; he couldn't form more words. His hands roamed over her body. Once he caught his breath, he sat up to kiss her properly.
"You definitely owe me more than one orgasm after that." Bucky grabbed the end of the bow around her chest with his teeth and pulled it off.
"We've got two hours," Chanel sighed, pushing Bucky's head closer as his teeth grazed over her nipple. "Maybe if you're good, I'll let you come again."
Bucky groaned and laid back on the bed, ready to submit to her as many times as she asked.
"You've really never heard of Rudolph?" Sam asked Yelena.
"She was a child assassin, Sam. Give her a break!" Bucky bumped Yelena's hip as he reached over her for the bag of flour.
Yelena flicked a chocolate chip at Sam's head. "Shush, I can't hear."
Chanel turned the tv up and handed Sam a beer. They watched Yelena kneading cookie dough with her eyes glued to the tv–adorable.
"Aw, why are these reindeer such dicks, though? This is happy Christmastime entertainment?"
"That's what I said!" Bucky took the dough from her and rolled it out onto the counter.
"For former assassins, you're both super sensitive," Chanel chuckled and emptied the container of cookie cutters onto the dining table.
"This coming from the girl who cried every time we watched this as kids," Sam smirked at Chanel as Yelena and Bucky laughed.
As they baked and drank, eventually, they were all misty-eyed and ready to fight anyone with anything bad to say about Rudolph and his shiny nose. With their cookies rising in the oven and the movie coming to an end, Chanel decided it was time to give Sam and Yelena their Christmas gifts.
"Guys, Bucky has a surprise for both of you." Chanel turned their attention toward Bucky, who sat the Wakandan boxes in the middle of the living room.
"You first, Sam." Bucky pushed the box toward where Sam sat at the dining table.
Sam's head shot up. "Are you serious right now?!" He lifted the suit and wings out of the box. "This is dope as hell!"
"There's one more thing; look in the bottom!" Chanel called from her seat in the one living room chair.
Sam picked up his new Redwing. "I knew it–I knew you loved him, Buck."
"Don't start," Bucky groaned. "It–I don't mind it. It's been helpful every now and then."
"Thanks, man." Sam gave Bucky a side hug before packing everything away again.
"Well, I figured if you're gonna be Captain America, you gotta look good. Plus, the vibranium will keep you safer."
"So sweet–my turn!" Yelena declared from her spot on the floor where Chanel was braiding her hair.
Bucky opened the second box and placed the vest in her hands. "Shuri and I thought you might want this."
Yelena sat up straighter, her bottom lip sticking out slightly like it might start quivering. "I always wondered what happened to it."
Chanel wrapped her arm around Yelena's shoulders. "It's okay," she whispered just to her.
Yelena nodded and looked up at Bucky. "I gave this to her the last time I saw her–thank you."
Bucky gave her a short nod and handed her a cold beer. "To Natasha."
"To Natasha," Yelena said as she clinked her bottle against Bucky's. "I did not expect to be crying so much at Christmas."
Chanel laughed and wiped her own tears. "It can be an emotional holiday."
"Well, it's better than spending it in the Red Room, brainwashed."
"Yeah, I'll drink to that." Bucky downed the rest of his beer, making Yelena chuckle.
"What are you still doing up?" Chanel whispered as she tiptoed into the bedroom. Sam was sitting up, a lamp on while he read.
"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged, "what's up?"
Chanel sat at the foot of the bed, careful to not disturb Yelena. "Nothing–it's just been a while since we've talked. There's so much–"
Sam sat his book down, opening his arms for Chanel. She settled against his chest, letting his heartbeat calm her down.
"You don't owe me an explanation for anything. Okay?"
Chanel tilted her head up. "But–"
"No buts. Nothing has changed, I love you, and I'm here for you."
"Thanks, Sam."
"How are you? Are you doing better with you know–"
Chanel shifted, tucking her chin as if to hide even more. "I'm fine."
"Very convincing. How are things going with Bucky? How was Wakanda?"
"Oh, Sam." Chanel sat up, forgetting for a second that Yelena was sleeping next to her. "It was a dream," she whispered, an excited grin on her face. "You have to go; my pictures don't do it justice."
"I still can't believe you got to go before me," Sam grumbled. "And Bucky?"
"He's great." Chanel laid back down. "We have fun, and I'm really trying to make this Christmas special for him. He's been through so much, and I just want to give him everything he deserves, ya know?"
Sam squeezed her shoulder. "He's lucky to have you. Just be sure you're taking care of yourself too."
"That's the thing, Sam; I don't care about myself anymore. I would do anything to see him smile, to make sure that nothing ever hurts him again."
"Damn. Remember when you told me you didn't think you would know when you were in love?"
Chanel chuckled quietly, "it's crazy, I know."
"But it's good. I'm so proud of you."
"Proud?"
"For putting yourself out there, for taking a risk. I know this terrifies you."
Chanel hummed, snuggling deeper into his chest. "I really love him, Sam. So much that it's overwhelming."
"Then can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Why are you here cuddling with me for comfort when he's laying out there alone?"
Chanel's silence told Sam everything he needed to know. Something was wrong.
"Are you gonna tell me what's going on? I mean, the Tracksuit Mafia, Chanel? That's serious."
"Сука," Chanel hissed in Yelena's direction. "I can't believe she told you."
"We have a bond now–come on, spill."
"It's the Power Broker; that's all I know. Yelena has some contacts; she's gonna look into it for me. I swear to God if either of you says anything to Bucky and ruin his Christmas–"
"Calm down, we're not gonna say anything. But I can't just sit back and let you get yourself killed."
"Please," Chanel snorted. "It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than some idiots in tracksuits to kill me."
"Yeah, well, I'm gonna keep an eye on things just in case."
"Okay, big bird," Chanel yawned. "I'm going back to bed."
"Stubborn, I don't know how Bucky puts up with you."
"I make it worth his while," Chanel teased.
"Gross, go to sleep." Sam pushed Chanel off the bed as she laughed.
"Both of you go to sleep," Yelena groaned.
"Goodnight, Sam," Chanel kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, snitch," she said to Yelena with a sharp flick to her ear.
Chanel softly closed the door, quietly making her way to the air mattress in the living room. Bucky was snoring softly, his body taking up most of the bed. Chanel gently lifted his arm and slid underneath him. Even in his sleep, his body reacted to hers–his strong arm pulling her close. Chanel was reminded of the first time they had slept together in her bed in Berlin. She had waited for him to make a move, but he just looked so tired. He had slept so peacefully, his body clinging to her like she was the only source of warmth in his life.
Suddenly even forever, if she was that lucky, didn't seem like enough time with him. She wished she could take back every moment that she had pushed him away, every moment that she had let him believe she felt nothing for him. What a waste.
She turned to wake him up, not wanting to waste any time asleep. "Bucky," she whispered, shaking his shoulder.
"Hmm? What?" He mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Chanel?"
She smiled as she watched his pretty lips move. "Nothing," Chanel shushed him, running her fingers over his bearded chin. "I just wanted to hear you say my name."