Last night had gone just like all the other nights. You both went to sleep at a reasonable hour, exhausted from the day's events. But then you had turned over onto your side, and you found yourself facing his front. As you had shifted over the sheets, your fingers had accidentally grazed over his. Realizing what you had done, you slowly pulled your hand away and his breathing became oddly distinctive to you. You closed your eyes again as his breathing evened out. Thankfully, his eyes were closed in a deep sleep. It didn't go unnoticed by you, that for a fraction of a second, his pinky had nearly wrapped around your own.

It's been a few days since you both shared that almost kiss in the bathroom. You thought maybe something had finally happened inside of him to help that thick wall that he had built around himself, to finally come down. You had seen a side of him that you had never seen before.

It comes as a shock to you, but the way he tended to your small injury had given you the courage that you thought would take months for you to gain.

Without hesitation, after he cleaned up your cut, you had reached for his hand before he could get too far away. The thought that you had been right about him all along was running through your head as you touched him and as your eyes met.

You were left cold when he then turned away from you.

The next few days after went by very quietly.

You worked your days at the bar as Marina, trying to find any sign of Silas that you could. It was your duty to try to get what info you could about a man Bucky still hadn't gone into detail about.

At night when you came home, more small moments were shared between the two of you. There were uncertain glances that reminded you of that almost kiss, a representation of a small flicker of hope between the two of you.

Tonight was different.

You sat on the open balcony on top of the tower. You never came out here before, the hesitancy having something to do with the fear of being seen mixed in with the guilt that you were living well. Today, you decided, would be different. You would take a step towards being selfish, for a few moments at least.

The second you stepped out and the wind blew over your face, you knew you had made a good choice. Your eyes gazed over the tall and captivating bright lights of the city. You stoped just before the railings and you sat down.

As you looked down, you wondered if he would be home soon. You wished that he would continue to open up to you, or at least give you something else. You needed one more sign from him.

The winter air blew through your hood and over the sharp edges of your face. Closing your eyes, you tried desperately to shove down the feelings you had felt so deeply for Bucky. They had developed quickly, catching you off guard.

It didn't help that he was finally shedding his skin for you. You knew that you eventually wouldn't be able to hold it in anymore, and that you needed to tell him how you felt. That moment between the two of you in the bathroom still gave you hope that maybe he did feel the same. The last four days gave you even more hope, leaving you optimistic.

Right?

He was starting to be kind to you. he was silent, but not in the angry and brooding way that he used to be. He was changing.

You brought your legs up to your chest as you continued to stare into the massive city.

A small Drizzle of icy rain began to fall onto your clothed arm. You watched intently as the sprinkle left little circle shaped marks over the dark material.

You heard someone come up behind you. You didn't need to turn around to know it was him.

"What are you doing out here?" His voice was gruff.

His eyes moved over your back like a hawk as he asked the question. He had been surprised when he didn't see you inside the apartment. You were usually always home when he got back. It didn't take long for him to spot you outside under the night sky.

"I was waiting." You say naturally, too confidently. So much you regret it as soon as you say it.

You look over and you find yourself noticing a flicker of fear in his eyes. His eyes dart quickly down to the ground, and he shoves one of his hands into the right pocket of his black bomber-style jacket. It was leather and it contrasted with the pastel blues in his eyes.

A small smile plays on your lips as you look away, "I'm kidding."

You hear him clear his throat. Moments later, you hear the shuffle of his footsteps as he approaches you even closer.

"Look, we need to talk." He says. His words and tone make you nervous.

Ever since the almost kiss, he had started to change. He no longer shot cold and insulting words at you. Instead, he seemed to have been starting to hide himself into a shell. It was of no shock to you that you felt apprehensive as those words escaped his lips.

You wondered what it was that he wanted to tell you.

Was he finally going to open up his heart to you? Was this finally it? Was this the moment girls always talked about in those cheesy romance books and sappy movies?

He stood there in silence for a moment longer than necessary, and you found yourself, once more, tilting your head up to look up at him. His eyes were looking over the city across the balcony, and you could tell he was lost in some kind of trance that you could not exactly pinpoint. You watched as he took the life and sounds around him, just like you had earlier. The colorful lights bounced off his face and you watched as some raid drops landed on his lashes and cheeks. His eyes were sharp as was his jawline. He looked powerful but simultaneously so gentle.

He was a nice guy. You knew he was.

His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed thickly, and you felt the fingers of your right hand wanting to inch closer towards him, maybe hold his own.

You feel your skin burning in anticipation as you remembered what happened only hours ago.

It was yesterday evening, before bed, and you had just finished your shift.

He was sitting on one of the couches and he had been silent as he watched you make your way over to your room where you slowly began discarding your coat and your scarf.

You had felt his eyes on you — you swear you did — but when you had looked over your shoulder, his eyes were casted downwards, looking at something in his lap.

This was just many of the small moments that left you wanting more, especially your body.

Finally, he looked down at you. His eyes were a dark blue tonight. Not the pastel like you'd thought.

"Can we talk inside?" He asks.

You felt your heart hammer away inside of you.

"Yeah, sure."

You both made your way inside, the warmth wrapping you like a blanket. You listened as he closed the balcony door behind you. Sliding your hood off your head, you continued you walk into your bedroom and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck. You were burning.

Your skin started to tingle with some kind of desire you had never felt before. Was this it?

You're not too sure when exactly it happened, when your feelings started to manifest into something deeper than it initially was.

You knew for a fact, that from the moment you met him, that you thought he was attractive.

You couldn't deny the feelings that went through your body when your eyes had met for the very first time in that tent. You could've swore that he could have possibly felt the same way. It was in the air, like electricity. That's the way it had felt back at camp.

That theory quickly went out the window when you had your first interaction. He looked at you and spoke to you like you were muck beneath his shoe and it hurt. He had been no different than everyone else you met in your life.

As time went on, and you began to see other parts of him that revealed why he could possibly be treating you the way he was, your point of view started to shift. You caught onto the fact that he was also starting to willingly sharing with you parts of himself that you thought maybe he wouldn't share for a while. You started to reconsider that maybe he did feel the same and he was just afraid to open up.

The last few days only further proved that to you. When you heard the glass door finally click, announcing that it was closed, that's when you turned around to face him.

Neither of you were expecting him to be as close to you as he was. He stood there with a look of surprise in his eyes as his body tensed, realizing how physically close you two were. Just another step forward and his chest would've been touching yours. You gazed up into his eyes as innocent as ever.

His eyes ran over your face and his lips were plump, probably from bitting on them again. You could feel the air between you thicken.

To your genuine surprise, he quickly looked away, taking a step back as he did so.

"Bucky..." you whispered quietly.

His eyebrows came together.

"I got his name and I figured out what they are transporting." His tone was soft. His voice said the words, but his mind was far away, you could tell. He turned his body completely away from you this time and walked over towards the nightstand.

Your heart was still beating quickly enough to where you could barely register that he was talking about the mission and not about the two of you.

Your body hadn't caught up just yet.

You swallowed thickly.

"Bucky, wait—"

He cleared his throat. Not loudly, but enough to signal that he was trying to shake off whatever the hell just happened.

"His name is Ashen," he took a deep breath, "I need you to keep your ear out for that name. I think he's more important than this Silas guy. It appears what they are trying to find is a cure. I just don't know who or what for." He seemed to ramble.

Your eyes knit together, finally letting his words sink in.

"A cure for the virus? Do you think they're just taking precautions?" You ask.

He didn't speak for a few seconds as he continued to rummage through the nightstand drawer.

"No, I think there's someone here who's infected. Someone close to him. We need to keep an eye and ear out on this progress."

You thought for moment, finally recuperating. You eyes darted back out the balcony doors.

"That means that the virus has bypassed the walls. The city isn't completely safe as we thought."

"I think they're keeping a tight lock on this patient. But yes, it's here."

You walked up to him and he stilled. His back was still to you. You didn't like when he wore his coats and jackets. You preferred his t-shirts. You liked that he could have his metal arm visible to you without any hesitation.

You felt him go rigid as the silence grew around you both.

He kept running away from this and it bothered you. You weren't crazy. Not anymore. You could see straight through his facade.

You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't keep your feelings down anymore. You knew you had to tell him, and soon.

For some reason you were scared. Scared of what? You had no idea. Maybe it was the lack of experience. You never told a guy you liked him before, especially not this kind of like.

"Good job." Was all you could muster out.

You saw him give a short nod before closing the drawer and walking away, leaving you standing there and staring at the wall.

You were a little confused, but mostly, completely unsatisfied.

The next morning at work you kept your ear out for two names: Silas and Ashen.

You were tired, and quite frankly, getting bored.

You had been thinking about speaking to Bucky about how you weren't too optimistic or happy about the pace this mission was going.

For one, you didn't feel like you were contributing to anything at all. It felt like he was doing most of the work. You felt like it was going by too slowly to appear like any progress was being made. There were no big results at all.

Granted, you knew this mission was six months for a reason — it was to be done meticulously and carefully. It was an undercover mission, after all. But you couldn't help but feel like you were a worthless chess piece.

You knew you needed to speak to him about letting you be more involved. You couldn't believe you found yourself even thinking these things. Just a few weeks ago you had tried to make it clear to Captain Rogers that you wanted to do this alone, and now here you were complaining that Bucky Barnes wasn't letting you participate enough.

As you mixed another drink for another customer that afternoon, you couldn't help but feel jealous as you watched one of the provocative and gorgeous women go down the stairs. She was curvy and had long black hair. You were jealous of what she was about to feel. You found yourself blushing at the thoughts that ran through your head.

You were a virgin. You've never even been kissed before.

You craved that feeling so much. Having gone most of your life being ridiculed or bullied had made it hard for you to find someone to date. Even when you tried to live independently from your parents, Boston was a small town. People talked and that made it difficult.

Bucky was the first man you found yourself wanting to do those things to. He was the first man to ever give you a chance to express yourself at least a little bit.

Knowing what those men and women were doing below you, you began to slowly feel yourself not being able to control your feelings anymore. It frustrated you that Bucky was also not making a move. You knew without a doubt that he felt something similar.

It crossed your mind that you never really spent this much time with a man at least not to this extent of intimacy, so maybe your radar was off a little bit, but you knew you weren't that crazy. There was never this kind of spark and electricity when you were with Will.

As you watched the couple continuing to kiss inside of the bar, you knew what you had to do when you got home that night. You were going to put an end to this torturous game.

You pulled the collar of your overcoat higher over your neck as you felt the skin there being slightly exposed.

They couldn't see your tattoo. Take a deep breath, you got back to work. You knew you couldn't be distracted. You continued to keep an eye and ear out for Silas and Ashen.

So far, nothing.

It was a slow night.

You hadn't seen anyone of interest and Bucky was going to lay low for the night. You told him your thoughts on picking things up, to which he responded that they've got new things in store for the following week, so you shouldn't hold your breath.

After a hot shower, you found Bucky packing some things away from the day and then making his way into the kitchen. As you slipped on a pair of socks, you listened intently as he poured himself a glass of water from the fridge filter.

You felt your nerves boil as you anticipated finally telling him how you felt. You pictured him telling you he felt it too, but that he'd want to take things slow. You envisioned him apologizing for masking his fear with hatred. You were prepared for that.

The different outcomes and scenarios, all positive, played in your mind.

Your eyes darted over the city again, a view you could never get sick of.

The opening and closing of the closet door made you snap your head around. You had been too distracted by your imaginaries to hear him step back into the bedroom.

Bucky was pulling out a pair of black sweats and a black shirt, most likely getting ready for his own shower.

You knew that if you were to wait one more moment, you would no longer have the guts to do what you were about to.

You took a deep breath and crawled towards the end of the bed. You pushed yourself up onto your feet and began walking over to him.

"Bucky, can we talk?" You ask, cringing to yourself at how small you sounded.

He was quiet. You watched as his jaw tensed, closing the closet door. He looked over at you, his clothes at his side in his hand.

You swallowed as you diverted your eyes to over his right shoulder.

"I—" you started, but your voice broke off. This was scarier than you thought it would be. You felt the palms of your hand begin to sweat and you could feel your heart hammer away in your chest. You looked back at Bucky's face to see that he was just as apprehensive as you were. You chuckled to yourself and started fidgeting with your hands. You looked down at them, "Bucky, look, I didn't expect to…" your voice drifts away, and you quickly push your hair behind your ear nervously.

"Y/N," the way he said your name sounded like he was tired.

"I like you." Your chest finally felt light as the words escaped your lips. It was eerily silent. It took a moment for you to finally look back up at him. He was peeking up at you from behind his long lashes. He bit his bottom lip, and looked away from you. You took a step closer, "I have feelings for you." he turned his head again and you watched as he looked at you in a way he never had looked at you before and your heart swelled immensely inside of your chest.

This was it.

His lips were slightly parted as he blinked. He looked surprised and not upset or disgusted. You didn't know what it was. Maybe he was still afraid, you thought.

"I know you feel it. These last few weeks have only further proved that." Your eyes soften as a small smile played on the edge of your lips.

Every word sounded wrong to you, but you had never done this before. You had never felt this before.

Bucky sucked in a small breath and he tilted his head. He straightened himself up a bit, but he still had that same look in his eyes.

"Bucky—" you reached out for his arm and he suddenly took a large step back away from you.

You felt yourself stiffen at the way he reacted and your smile quickly slid off your face.

He did look afraid.

"Y/N," At his tone, you feel something you never felt before. You recognized what it was immediately. It was pity. That was the look he had given you, "You're a nice girl," your heart beat away again, "but," but. You felt yourself crushing in on itself as you realized he was turning you down. It felt awful, "I don't feel that way about you." He said it softly. You knew he was being sincere, and this only further made you feel worst. You felt yourself being the one to take a step back this time this time. You couldn't physically breathe anymore. You didn't even know what you were feeling. You weren't prepared for this. You watched as he continued to give you that look, "Y/N, please, I don't want to make things awkward between us." You felt yourself continuing to find it hard to breathe as you looked down by his feet.

This was not how you had imagined telling a guy you liked him. This was not what you were expecting. How could you have been so blind?

He didn't like you.

He didn't have those same feelings you had when you looked at him.

He wasn't attracted to you. You had imagined it all.

You never felt rejection before. This hurt.

For weeks you pictured him maybe saying he could give it a chance, for weeks you pictured him finally giving in and being kind to you. Now you felt foolish for being so damn delusional.

How could you have been so blind?

You saw the tears as they clouded your vision. His feet became blurry shapes.

"Okay." You say with a broken voice, "I just, I thought—-" you couldn't even find the words you wanted to say as you finally looked up at him again. Why did you look up? This time you couldn't contain your tears as your face broke and you quickly wiped your tears away through a controlled sob. You felt horrible. You wiped the other side of your face and walked directly past him, "It's okay, we can forget this happened." You managed to croak out.

"Y/N, please," you felt him reach for your elbow and you quickly snatched it away from his reach.

"It's not your fault!" You snapped. Your voice echoed around the room. You pulled your arm close to your chest as you watched him become uneasy. He looked sorrowful. You took a deep breath as you ran both your hands up your face, "it's not your fault." You repeated.

There was no sound except for your sniffing and the rain now hitting against the glass.

"You'll find a guy your age, you don't want an old thing like me, anyway." He thought that his words would help but they didn't. He didn't know about your life and what you've been through — all the bullying and having no friends — and he didn't know that that sentence didn't change how you felt.

He repeated your name again and it hurt, again.

You wiped your nose on the back of your hand.

"We'll continue our mission. Let's forget I said anything, okay?" You felt embarrassed, exposed. You couldn't even look at him anymore, not when he stared at you so intensely knowing that you harbored non-platonic feelings for him.

How could you have been so dumb?

"I think that would be best." He says, softly and carefully.

Bucky cursed himself in his head as he dried off in the bathroom. The steam continued to linger in the air and he considered staying in there for a few more minutes.

This was exactly what he didn't want to happen.

He didn't want feelings to complicate this mission. Most of all, unrequited feelings.

You were very pretty, he wasn't blind. He knew it from the moment he saw you that dealing with having you around would be hard for him.

You were also so young and naive, and not to mention, reckless. You were a ticking bomb for him. You needed someone your own age, someone you had more in common with. Someone that could give you want you needed.

On top of all that, you weren't his type. You weren't…

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath.

No. This had nothing to do with Daisy.

Of course he felt bad for making you cry. He wasn't completely heartless. But what else could he have done in that moment? There was nothing else he could've done.

He did what he had to do. He did the right thing.

He hoped things wouldn't be too awkward.

He didn't want to make the next six months harder than it needed to be.

As he walked out, he found the loft already dark. He tried to make as little noise as possible as he approached the bed. He was momentarily surprised to see you were still awake. You were staring down at the covers.

He hated this. It hasn't even been an hour and it was already awkward.

He watched as you flipped around to face the window, the rain still pouring down.

He got under the covers next to you and turned away so his back was facing yours.

It was going to be a long night.