"What was that about?" asked Sam.
"What was what?" said Bucky. He slinked even further into the chair like a petulant kid. He knew it. And he hated it. But he couldn't help it.
"You know damn well," said Sam. "Don't go all assassin on me."
"I could ask you the same thing," said Bucky, crossing his arms in front of him. "You made yourself awfully familiar."
"I'm just doing what you're not. I'm guessing you haven't told her how you feel?"
Bucky huffed and wished, not for the first time since entering the basement, that he could use his latent assassin skills to disappear into the darkness. "Can we just get back to business?"
"After. We change subjects now, we'll never go back."
"Fine with me."
Sam just gave him an "I'm not moving" look.
Bucky huffed. "I tried, ok?" He uncrossed his arms and laid them on the arms of the chair squeezing them in his hands. His vibranium fingers tore into the fabric and crushed the end of the wood inside. Sam ignored it.
"What did she say?" asked Sam.
"She called me an asshole."
"And she's still here? Dude. The girl likes you, she can't keep her eyes off you. What happened after?"
"Nothing. Except…" His voice grew almost inaudible. "We kissed."
Sam got up from his chair and let out a loud "Hoo!"
"Oh, see! This is why I didn't tell you."
Sam walked back and forth across the floor. "You mean to say we've been texting about this girl for weeks, and you're just now telling me you made out?"
"We didn't make out. We kissed in an elevator."
"An ele…? Damn son. So what's the problem? Why are you proving her asshole theory right?"
"Can we talk about what you came back here for Samuel?"
"Just for that, no."
"She doesn't want me. She wants the Winter Soldier."
"Oh, he's on full display right now, and that's not what she wants."
"And this morning she…"
"She what?"
"She… She tried to hold my hand." The memory of her fingers holding onto his metal ones came back so strong he could almost feel it. The softness of the gesture, the gentle way she kept pulling on him.
Sam sat back down and leaned forward. "Let me get this straight. If someone likes you back there's something wrong with them?" asked Sam.
He didn't hesitate. "Obviously."
Sam shook his head. "Ah."
Bucky put his head in his hands. Once more, it all rose to the surface. That eager boy, so confident in his prowess with women, so ready to serve his country, who loved so deeply he couldn't see straight was gone. In his place was a shattered mess, a killer. A social pariah, who didn't deserve happiness. Maybe the codes to the Winter Soldier were gone, but he was still there. Waiting to destroy people.
Always reading his thoughts, Sam locked him in a stare. "You know you're free right?" he said.
"Doesn't feel that way."
"What do you want?"
It was a question Sam asked often, and one he could never answer. It wasn't that he didn't know, it was that saying it out loud hurt. When had he ever gotten what he wanted? Sam didn't seem to be going away, so Bucky let time idle. He thought of her skin, her cheeks so soft and supple. He dreamed about running his thumbs over them as he looked down at her laugh lines next to her mouth. He thought about her hair, those little curls at the ends that he wanted to wind in his fingers. Her eyes when she really looked at him. They were unfathomable and tore his soul right out of his chest. Her lips that pulled him to her like no other kiss he'd ever received. Like her life depended on his face being smashed against hers. He wanted to kiss her all the damn time. And lastly, those little moments when her defenses lowered, and her vulnerability leaked out. Sharing her fears with him while they danced, her warm cheek against his. They were the same. And he'd fucked it up royally.
"Time," he said finally.
"Then take it, it's ok to go slow" said Sam. "But use your words man. Tell her how you feel. She seems worth it to me."
"What if I can't?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Steve is gone Buck. It's time to move on. He would want you to."
At the mention of Steve's name, Bucky's eyes pricked with tears. He nodded, forcing them back. The dog tags around his neck grew heavy, both their names next to each other, next to his heart. "Yeah," he whispered.
"Alright then. Now, about this magician…"
"For crying… Hypnotist," said Bucky.