Chapter Fifteen

Bucky started at Aurelie's scream, spinning and sprinting halfway to her side before two scorching, blinding beams of fire shot from her bloodied eyes. He ducked and rolled through the snow, but he needn't have worried - she had aimed her shot well, immediately lighting up remainder of Zemo's super soldiers.

Thy burst into flames, screaming, dropping to the snow, rolling desperately. Their skin melted from their bones even as they tried to put themselves out in the snow.

Bucky scrambled through the snow on his hands and knees to Aurelie's side as she pitched forward limply to the ground. He gathered her small, unconscious body up in his arms, pulling her onto his lap, taking her face gently in one hand. He fished her glasses from her pocket, resting them on her chest until he cleaned the blood from her blanched skin.

The others could take care of the last two soldiers; what he needed to do was take care of Aurelie. He had known her glasses tampered her gifts, but he hadn't realized the extent that using them affected her. Or how powerful she truly was. She was so, so strong, all of that power in that small form, and she had been using them nonstop since they landed. And the last show of force-

He gathered a clump of snow in his vibranium hand, keeping it from melting in the already cold metal and gently pressed it against her inflamed skin. Swiping carefully at the blood, he cleaned her off as best he could; the bleeding had slowed to a trickle and finally stopped, caking in the gouges. He didn't want to put the glasses on her, knowing it would simply add to the pain she was already experiencing if pressed against her wounds. But if she happened to open her eyes, he couldn't be certain it wouldn't stoke the agony she was already going through. Not to mention, she might inadvertently light him up, too, and, while he certainly wouldn't blame her, he didn't exactly want to go through that.

"Oh my God, Aurelie!"

Bucky's grip tightened on her, drawing her closer into his chest, pinning a fierce, dangerous glower at Steve as he dropped to their side. He was bloodied and bruised, like the rest of them, Bucky assumed, and fear and concern filled his gaze. Slowly, the dark-haired super soldier loosened his grip, his anger melting away to sheer panic, "After the fire, she dropped."

Steve ripped his gloves off, a hand touching her wounded face, "Jesus."

All Bucky knew was fear. Was she alright? Had this ever happened before? Had she ever used every last bit of her power? What happened when she did? And what would happen to her now?

The captain touched the pale column of Aurelie's throat, searching for her pulse. He exhaled heavily, relief evident in his voice, "She's alive. This happened before, once. She was out for days, Bucky, don't worry just yet."

"I don't- Steve, are you sure?"

The blond nodded somberly, resting a hand on Bucky's shoulder and squeezing tightly, forcing his best friend to meet his gaze. His expression was calm, confident despite his concern for Aurelie, responding firmly, "Yes. Trust me, Bucky. Let's get her onto the plane, get her warm; she's the worst off of us all."

Bucky stiffened as hasty footfalls crunched in the snow surrounding them, disconcerted murmurs from Aurelie's friends filling the air. He gathered her easily in his arms and stood, followed immediately by Steve. The latter assured the others that Aurelie would be alright, but Bucky swallowed his heart as it lodged in his throat, hoping that the captain wasn't just bluffing for the sake of them all.

Natasha fell in step beside him, the redhead studying Aurelie's limp form with a deeply furrowed brow. It looked even more severe coupled with two black eyes and a broken nose. They shared a sharp, silent glance, before the Black Widow informed him, "Cold compresses seemed to help last time. And there's plenty of first aid on the jet."

He nodded once, striding up the ramp into the jet and toting her easily to a quiet corner away from the rest of the seats in the hull. He knelt down, hesitating to lower her to the cold, uncomfortable metal grating; frantic footsteps came running toward him and he watched Peter drop loudly to his knees at his side. He had his old suit, the red and blue sweatshirt and pants, and as many spare articles of clothing as he could find and spread them out on the ground. His brown eyes bulged, tears gathering in their corners, as he nearly whimpered, "She's alive, right? She'll- she'll be okay?"

"Yeah, kid," Bucky nodded, easing Aurelie to the floor, arranging her limbs in a more comfortable position, "can you find a bucket or somethin' and fill it with snow?"

Peter nodded frantically and leapt to his feet, limping hurriedly out of the jet. Bucky's mouth twisted in a fleeting smile; he could see why Aurelie loved the kid so much. He was just that. A kid. A kid with powers, younger than Steve, but similar enough that Bucky already liked him.

Bucky dropped himself to the ground beside Aurelie, absently running his fingers through her hair. It was soft and damp, but still curling around his digits. He glanced around the hull, watching the Avengers tend to their wounds. Some had broken bones that Natasha set about resetting, including her own nose; others were holding compresses of snow against their bruises, hoping the swelling would go down. More than a few were cleaning the blood from their faces, their hands.

But other than that, they had survived.

The King of Wakanda settled down a yard or so from Bucky, and the super soldier queried, "Did any of 'em survive?"

T'Challa peered up at him and sized him up, his shoulders tensing before he slumped forward, elbows on his knees. Must've been too tired to hate him. Shaking his head, T'Challa replied seriously, "None. We're waiting for Stark to return to decide what to do with them."

"Burn 'em all," Bucky grumbled, dropping his gaze to Aurelie once more. She hadn't moved an inch and it disturbed him.

"I won't argue with that," the Black Panther answered, before sighing heavily, "I believe I owe you an apology."

The super soldier returned his attention to the man across from him, brows pinching in confusion. The king chuckled somberly, "I tried to kill you."

"So have a lotta people," Bucky's tone was dry and T'Challa chuckled again, "and you thought I killed your father. It's a good enough reason."

"But you didn't," he answered, shrugging tiredly, "and for that, I'm sorry."

Bucky nodded, appreciation flooding him, and he watched T'Challa lean back in his seat, his face contorting in displeasure. "We'll get him. Zemo. For your father."

The Black Panther's eyes slid in Bucky's direction, a grateful smile twisting on his face before he nestled back into his seat and relaxed. The super soldier heard Peter's limping gait and turned, watching the gangly teen appear with a utility bucket full of snow. He dropped it heavily beside Bucky and, despite himself, he glanced hastily at Aurelie.

It didn't wake her.

Withholding a long-suffering sigh, he shot Peter a thankful nod, fully expecting him to wander off, maybe ask Natasha for help. But he sat himself down next to Bucky, torn between peering at his arm in interest and inspecting Aurelie's unconscious form.

"Nothin' better to do?"

Peter flushed, grimacing up at Bucky and apologizing immediately, "I- sorry, I just… want to make sure she's okay. She's my friend. Maybe my best friend, after Ned, and I- I mean, I know she's an adult, but-"

"It's okay, kid," Bucky smirked, "I get it. How's your first aid?"

"Great!" Peter exclaimed excitedly, straightening and scouring the hull for a spare kit. He found one not far off and retrieved it, resuming his seat beside them and rifling through the box. "We just had a whole semester on it. I got CPR certified last week."

Bucky didn't know whether to laugh or flinch at Peter's sheer youth, but opted to nod, "Good for you. Wanna clean out those cuts? I'll make some compresses."

Peter nodded, his face settling in determination, and began to tend to Aurelie's face. The skin was swollen and bruising, the gouges standing out starkly against her normally pale flesh. Bucky took some clean cloth from the kit and began tearing it in long strips. He watched the snow begin to melt in the warmth of the hull and dipped the strips in it as he went.

Steve approached the pair as they continued; they made an amusing pair - Peter couldn't shut up and Bucky didn't make a sound. But they worked well together, and Bucky knew Aurelie would be proud of her young friend. He watched Steve approach with a smile growing on his solemn face.

"How's she doing?"

Bucky shrugged silently, clueless, but Steve didn't seem overly concerned so he assumed that this wasn't any different from the last time the golden-eyed girl had overexerted herself.

"We're gonna take off," he informed the pair, "head home. Vision and Sam are back - Stark and Rhodes are following Zemo. They'll arrest him and bring him back to New York."

Bucky nodded, lips pursing in thought, "What about the facility?"

"Wanda and Vision are taking care of it as we speak," Steve's grin was grim, but victorious, "Ross wanted to go through it, but Pietro's in there now, gathering evidence. And if that doesn't satisfy him, he can go to hell."

Steve's dark blue eyes dropped to Aurelie, Bucky following, and the blond admitted sadly, sheepishly, "She always teases me when I curse."

"Me too!" Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in annoyance. He frowned though, his voice small, "I hope she wakes up soon."

"She will," Bucky patted his shoulder, "don't worry."

/

I died.

I had to have.

The agony that overtook me when I burned that last super soldier had sent me spiralling into blackness. And I was dead.

Right?

"Aurelie?"

Humming, I recognized Bucky's voice and swam through the thick, suffocating fog that engulfed me to get to him. Bracing myself, I hesitated to open my eyes, fearful of the pain that might overwhelm me again when I did. But… I wanted to see those lovely blue eyes.

Someone had affixed my glasses to my face and I was grateful that my gaze wasn't immediately flooded with steel and wire and bodies and whatever else was on the floor of the Avengers compound above me. When my skull didn't immediately burst, I tipped my head to the side, a smile blooming across my lips at the man perched beside my bed.

He leaned forward in his chair, metal hand clasped loosely with his flesh one, his hair hanging forward around his stubbled, clenching jaw. His blue eyes were wide, searching, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as I rolled on my side without a wince. Curling my legs up, I adjusted my pillow so my glasses weren't askew, tucking my arm beneath it and staring up at the super soldier.

"How long have you been here?"

"I think the better question is how long have you been here," he deflected easily, scooting his chair closer to the bed, "but not long."

Grinning, I narrowed my eyes, "Exaggerator."

He threw his head back and laughed, a loud, infectious sound, and I couldn't help but grin.

"Okay," he admitted, his voice soft with affection, eyes crinkling at the corners, "I've been here a while." At my silent, prodding stare, he continued, "A few hours."

"Bucky."

He relaxed back into his armchair, hands folded atop his stomach, legs stretched out and spread wide before him. Relief filled his face, relief that I was awake, that I was alive and well.

My toes curled beneath the blanket, my heart thumping erratically, and I reached a hand out toward him. His eyes fell to it, shifting up to meet mine with an indescribable swirl of emotion, and he pulsed forward again, scooping it up in his. He squeezed my hand softly, his thumb drifting over my knuckles with a gentleness that had my head spinning.

In the most delightful way.

"You've been out for three days," he informed me, his eyes following his ministrations, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The move sent a bolt of desire straight through me and I bit hard on the inside of my cheek to keep silent. "Even Steve was startin' to get worried, and he's the one who's been telling everyone you'd be fine."

"I am fine," I assured him with a cocky smile, though my fetal position and days-long unconsciousness spoke otherwise. He didn't seem convinced, anyway. "This happened when I saved Pietro. I think I used every last thing I had. That and the pain that comes with using my powers for so long… My body just can't take it, so it shuts me down."

"I saw," Bucky replied dryly, though his tone was low, warm, "I didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned."

"Both would be acceptable," I laughed, "it's how most people feel."

"I-"

His gaze turned suddenly piercing, passionate, as he stared down at me, his jaw working as he considered his words carefully. Finally, lips pursed and pouted softly, Bucky squeezed my hand, his voice thick, quavering, "You scared me, Aurelie."

I would have apologized if the raw emotions weren't on full display before me.

"I don't get scared," he continued, his brow tipped upward imploringly, begging me to understand, "I- when I saw you like that, I- I've lost almost everyone that ever mattered to me. You can't do that to me, Aurelie. Please don't do that to me again. Please."

And suddenly I didn't want to ever make him feel that way again.

Launching myself upright, I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and practically fell onto him, my knees weak after three days of disuse. Not because of Bucky's words, obviously.

He caught me easily, pulling me to his chest and burying his face into my hair. My knees on either side of his lap, I melted into him, hugging him tightly, "I won't, Bucky, I promise."

I attempted to pull away from him but he refused to let me go. Trying once more with a soothing murmur, he relaxed his grip only slightly, and I pressed my hands to his chest, angling myself to put just enough space between us. His hands rested low on my hips, his eyes wide as he stared desperately up at me. The heat, the tension between us was palpable and my hands trembled, my heart quickened.

Licking my lips, I offered him a warm, reassuring smile, my voice soft but serious, "You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, Bucky. If I ever have to use my powers to this point again-," I inhaled sharply as his fingers tightened on my hips, craving more, "I'll give you fair warning. It won't kill me; it hasn't yet."

"But-"

"It won't," I assured him, brushing my fingers along the alluring scruff on his jaw. His eyes drifted shut at my touch and he leaned into my palm, causing my stomach to lurch pleasantly. "You won't lose me, Bucky. Ever."

His eyes snapped open, amazement brightening them, and he surged forward, intent on capturing my lips with his own. I raised a hand quickly, my fingers intervening, and his face crumpled.

"I'd love to kiss you right now," I whispered with a laugh and a broad smile, "but I've been unconscious for three days. I'm sure my breath is rank, not to mention the rest of me. Let me clean up first."

He warred with himself, his desire for me - which was more than evident, pressed deliciously against my inner thigh - conflicting with his desire to do as I asked. Finally, he dipped his head, his lips molding to the hollow of my throat. A moan escaped me and I snaked my fingers into this thick, silky hair, pressing him tighter to me. His scruff scratched pleasantly at my skin, his teeth scraping lightly.

He pulled away after far too short a moment, offering me a devilish grin, "Natasha's been giving you sponge baths. Figured that part was clean enough."

A high-pitched hum was all I could muster, my skin still searing from his touch.

He didn't sound even remotely sorry, and he certainly wouldn't find me complaining. Chewing on my lower lip, I found myself in my own internal battle. I could easily carry on, and Bucky would be more than willing - clearly, as his fingers strayed lower. One little shift of my hips-

But my mouth was cottony and, while Nat might have been giving me sponge baths, she certainly hadn't been brushing my teeth. Or shaving me. That noted, I forced myself off of Bucky's lap, the apology on my face not just for him.

Goddamn, I cockblocked myself.

Bucky stood, unconcerned by the obvious bulge in his jeans that I couldn't avoid lusting over if I tried and caught my elbow with a gentle hand. Guiding me to the bathroom until he was certain I wouldn't faceplant, he leaned against the threshold, watching me intently, "I should go tell the others you're awake." He didn't seem to be in a rush to leave, however, and I eyed him keenly, resting a hip against the sink. "Get you something to eat."

"I'd appreciate both of those things," I told him, a quaver to my tone that assured him 'but I'd appreciate you joining me even more…'

He nodded, arms folded tightly over his chest, examining me with a scorching, hooded gaze. Finally, he pushed away from the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the room. Nearly collapsing into the sink, I bit my knuckles, a strangled noise escaping my throat. I stared at the door in anticipation, hoping it would swing open and Bucky would stride back in and- what? Pin me to the sink? Scoop me up and carry me into the shower? He could probably do it one-handed, vibranium arm or otherwise, and a rush of need shot low to my core. Feeling decidedly frustrated, I waited.

I had known I wanted him when he had offered me that first hesitant, alluring smile in that dingy warehouse. With those sculpted features, the soft, dark hair, those expressive baby blues. He was a man of few words with most, but when you got him talking, he was witty, sarcastic. I might not have known him very long, but in nearly a year of knowing Pietro, I never once felt the draw I did with the super soldier. I wanted to know everything about him. His life before the war. His time with HYDRA, if he was willing to share. His likes, his dislikes. How he felt, sounded, tasted when I got him to the brink.

He was more open with me than I had ever expected, and I craved more.

And that smolder?

Fuck me, I didn't stand a chance.

Shaking my head, I regarded my face in the mirror in concern. Relief flooded me, though, at the lack of long, jagged scars. Tony, though not a doctor, had worked long and hard with Helen Cho to develop plenty of medical advancements and skin regeneration had been one of the first. I couldn't help but be grateful that they had applied it to my face; I certainly didn't mind a scar or two - I had a number of them already - but fifteen to twenty fingernail scars?

No thank you.

My skin was once again smooth, if not a little pink from the healing process. The lines were soft, certainly not deep, and the skin was knitting together nicely. It wouldn't be long before they were completely gone and my flesh was its normal, creamy pale.

I disrobed quickly, sniffing the nightgown with a grimace. It wasn't horrendous, but it certainly didn't smell like daisies. Tossing it into the hamper behind the door, I turned the shower on and gathered some toiletries, grateful that Steve had been adamant about keeping a room available for me. Tony had nearly forced me to place an order online for all of my favorite things.

Casting one more longing look at the door, I stepped beneath the scalding water and groaned in delight. Thoughts of Bucky (mostly) set aside, I set about thoroughly grooming myself. Hair washed and washed again, legs, armpits, landing strip shaved, body scoured raw with a honey-scented scrub. The steam swirled around me and I turned my face to the nearly scalding water, enjoying the way it soothed my sore muscles.

It occurred to me that I had been so enthralled by Bucky that I hadn't even asked after the others. Guilt gnawed at me, but I was certain if something had happened to anyone, he would have opted to tell me before trying to kiss me. Still, I couldn't be certain and I shut off the shower quickly, grabbing a short, fluffy bathrobe and wrapping it around myself. Tossing my hair up in a towel, I hastened from the bathroom.

And stopped short at the sight of Tony Stark sitting on my bed.

Surprised, I assessed his injuries quickly. Bruises had faded to an ugly greenish-yellow and cuts were already knitting back together. But the sheer anguish on his face had a painful knot tightening in my stomach.

He looked up at me, those deep, chocolate doe eyes sorrowful, his voice cracking as he breathed, "GG."

I didn't know what was wrong, but I crossed the distance between us in a near sprint, dropping to my knees before him. Panic flooded me and I grabbed his face, "Tony, what's wrong? What happened? Is everyone okay? Talk to me, Tony."

He didn't speak for a moment, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes, and he replied hoarsely, "He killed my parents."

"Wha- who?" His gaze met mine, raw and roiling, and I leaned back, surprised, "Bucky?"

My mind spun and I wove shakily on the balls of my feet. Bucky had killed Tony's parents. I don't know how he knew, but the moment I said it, I knew it to be true. Though they had purportedly been killed in a car accident, if someone - HYDRA came to mind - wanted them dead, who better to send than your most skilled assassin?

"Did he tell you that?"

Tony rubbed his jaw fervently, a humorless smile stretching across his face, "No. No, Zemo did. And I believe him."

So did I.

Whatever Zemo's motives had been, it was an oddly specific claim to make. One that had the air of truth to it.

"Did you confront him?" He remained silent. "Tony, did you talk to Bucky?"

He shook his head slowly, hissing through his teeth, "I wanna kill him, Aurelie."

Chewing anxiously at my lower lip, I squeezed Tony's knees, forcing him to look at me. He never called me by my name and I knew he was serious. And part of me couldn't blame him.

"Why haven't you said anything, Tony?" The billionaire was a hot-head at the best of times, and finding out not only that your parents had been murdered, but that the man who had committed the atrocities was under the same roof as you and your friends and hadn't said a word-

And he remembered.

He dreamt about his kills every night; I could only assume that the Starks plagued his dreams, as well.

"I get that he… he had no control over what he was doing," Tony breathed softly, brokenly, "I get that. But- my dad. My- my mom."

He choked and dropped his head to his hands, tugging at his hair, his knuckles white. His head snapped back up, eyes blazing, "I wanna kill him."

"I know," I pulled him to me, hugging him tightly, "I know. Tony, I can't imagine what you're going through. But… you are right. He didn't do it willingly. He wouldn't do it willingly. Nothing would ever make it right, ever, but that was the Winter Soldier. Not Bucky Barnes."

"I know that!" Tony snapped, pushing me away and exploding from the bed, pacing the room and chewing on his thumbnail. He swiped angrily at his tears. "But I can't look at him and not think that he was the last thing my mother ever saw. The last thing she saw before he killed her."

I watched him helplessly, rocking back on my heels and running a shaky hand through my wet curls. My mind reeled, my heart aching for him. There was nothing I could say or do to console him. Words would be of little comfort.

Anguish and agitation rolled off of Tony in waves, his movements frenetic, his tears still falling.

"I-I can't- I don't know what to do. I wanna strangle him with my bare hands. I wanna break every bone in his body. But- he could've said something. He should've said something!"

"What was I gonna say?"

Leaping to my feet, I beat Tony to Bucky, the tray of food forgotten in his hand. His nostrils flared, his steely, sorrowful gaze glued to the Iron Man.

"Bucky, just go- just-"

Tony grabbed my shoulder none too gently and moved me out of the way. The action had Bucky's lip curling, His left arm whirring as it tightened, but he didn't move, didn't breathe, only watched the billionaire with an unblinking, calculating stare.

The super soldier didn't leave, though, shutting the door gently, the lock snapping with a resounding click. My mouth ran dry, my eyes dancing nervously between the pair of them. Slowly lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I prepared myself to lunge at either of them if the need arose. I knew they wouldn't look at me and allow me to stop them if they went at it, so I would need to be quick, to catch them off guard with a low, calculated assault.

"What could I say?" Bucky continued quietly, soberly, setting the tray down on the vanity behind him, fists curling loosely at his sides. Would he even try to defend himself if Tony threw a punch? The self-loathing was evident on his face, but the billionaire probably couldn't even see it through his fiery haze. "I killed your parents, Tony."

Tony reared a fist back, catching Bucky squarely, powerfully, in the jaw. He stumbled back, against the vanity, upsetting the tray and sending a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake crashing to the floor. He caught himself, keeping himself upright, oblivious to the mess. He didn't retaliate, didn't wipe the blood from his busted lip. Tony threw another punch and I was half-standing when Bucky shot me a sharp glance, shaking his head slowly.

"They didn't deserve it!" Tony screamed, hitting Bucky again, "she didn't deserve it!"

Bucky took another two hits without defending himself and I couldn't take it anymore. Jumping to my feet, I caught Tony's arm before he could throw another bloodied fist into Bucky's face. He turned quickly, eyes wild, tormented, "Let me go, GG."

"Tony, please-"

"They didn't deserve it," Bucky admitted quietly, dragging his vibranium wrist along his bleeding lip with a wince, "none of them did. But your parents- it was quick. I promise. I- I killed them both because I was ordered to bring back the serum your father was working on and eliminate any witnesses. I killed them. And I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything, but… I can't sleep at night. I lost count of how many times I see your parents' faces. I remember all of them. All of them. And I should. I don't deserve to forget them."

Tony was breathing heavily but his arm relaxed in my grasp. His hand fell to his side and he glowered at Bucky, teeth bared, "Good. I hope you never forget. I hope they haunt you 'til the day you die, you bastard."

He yanked the door open, shoving Steve hard in the shoulder as he passed, the blond super soldier leaning against the wall across from my door. I was surprised he was the only one who had showed up - Tony was never quiet when he was calm, let alone when he was in hysterics - but he had obviously come to intervene if necessary. His arms, folded tightly across his chest, dropped, shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked grimly between the pair of us, nodding once and following after the billionaire.

Shutting the door slowly, I locked it and rested my forehead against the door.

"Aurelie, I wanted to-"

Turning, I rested my back against the door, shaking my head and offering the tortured soldier a soft, sad smile, "He'll be alright. Might take him a while, but he will."

Bucky dropped onto the edge of the bed, head hung low, his bloodied lip oozing onto his lap. He didn't bother cleaning himself up, his posture utterly defeated.

"Just wait here," I breathed heavily, earning a sharp, disconcerted glance from the super soldier. He had stiffened, watching me flit about the room, but remained silent. I gathered my clothes, as well as my thoughts, and slipped quietly into the bathroom.

It didn't necessarily change anything, what Bucky had done, as callous as the thought seemed to be. His past was wrought with death and destruction. Though Tony was one of my closest friends, the fact remained I had already known that Bucky had killed people. A lot of people. And he regretted it every day of his life. There was no fixing it, or changing it, but he could make amends for the things he'd done, with the people he'd done them to. Tony might never forgive him; I didn't blame him and neither would Bucky, but it would free him.

I slid into a pair of jeans and a black lace crop top and nabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink. Slipping back out into the room, I strode back over to Bucky, kneeling between his spread knees. It gave me better access to his busted lip and he couldn't hide his hurt expression behind his hair from this angle. Resting my ass on my heels, I opened the kit and peered up at him, catching his chin between a finger and thumb.

He didn't meet my gaze, ashamed more than anything, and I poured some distilled water on a clean cloth. Gently dabbing at his lip, I noticed the super soldier didn't even flinch and opened my mouth once, twice, before closing it and waiting for him to speak. He didn't say a word for quite a long time, allowing me to press an alcohol wipe to his wound.

That made him hiss and jerk away and I apologized softly.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he muttered roughly, his tone filled with self-loathing, "I shouldn't have kept quiet about that. I should've told him the second I saw him."

"It wasn't exactly the best time for it," I replied, cleaning the blood from his chin and his vibranium wrist. He tugged at it, trying to pull away from me, but I held firm, methodically wiping away the streaks of crimson until the silver was spotless.

"I was gonna ask him if he could-," he broke off with a self-deprecating laugh, "I was gonna see if he could help me upgrade it. I was gonna ask him to help me after I murdered his parents. What an asshole."

"He still might," I answered, setting the kit aside and settling back on the floor. I cupped his cheek, huffing when he leaned away again. "Bucky, stop. Please. You couldn't stop what you were doing. You had no control, we all know that, but you couldn't fight against all of HYDRA."

"I should've tried."

"You did," I retorted hotly, fervently, "you fought so hard that they had to reset you, Bucky. Multiple times. If you can't forgive yourself, you can still make peace with it. You tried. And you're free now. They can't hurt you, they can't do that to you anymore. Don't let them do it to you now."

The super soldier finally met my gaze, warm and soft, his lips curling slowly. The corners of his eyes crinkled in the most enticing way and he caught my chin in a tender grasp, "Anyone ever tell you you're an incredible gal?"

"Mostly I'm a pain-"

"-in the ass," he chorused with me and laughed despite himself, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, "yeah, well…"

Dipping his head quickly, he captured my mouth in a soft, searing kiss. His hair curtained around us and I hummed delightedly at the rough scratch of his scruff against my skin. His fingers slipped into my hair, curling gently behind my ears and tugging me closer. His lips worked against mine with increasing urgency, and I rose unsteadily to my feet, Bucky following to keep from breaking the kiss.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pressed my chest to his, aching to feel every inch of him against my body. Surging up onto the tips of my toes for better access, my eagerness to deepen the kiss and miniscule height earned a chuckle from the super soldier. It rumbled deliciously against my chest, and I moaned against his mouth, my desire for him exploding tenfold. His lips parted and he swallowed the sound, his tongue dipping teasingly in and stroking mine. His arms wrapped around my waist, locking me into place, the cool metal sending a trail of goosebumps along my exposed flesh. Shuddering, I ran my nails along the soft skin of his neck, drawing his lower lip between my teeth and sucking gently, earning a deep, heady groan from Bucky that shot right straight down to my core.

He tucked his hands in the back pockets of my jeans, kneading the ample flesh he found there, his lips twisting in what I could only imagine was a dangerous, seductive smile. He pulled away, panting, and I aimed to follow him, but he lowered his hands, pushing me softly back onto the flats of my feet. His eyes drifted shut, resting his forehead against mine, both dismayed and blissful in the same breath, "I don't deserve this, Aurelie. I don't deserve you."

Staring up at him, astounded and nearly dizzy with want, I scoffed, "What if I said you did? You do? Don't I get a say?"

The fierce longing roiling in those blue eyes as they snapped open would've sent me back a step or two if he didn't have such a delightfully firm hold on my ass. A chuffing laugh escaped him, drinking in my indignance affectionately, "You are a girl who knows her own mind, so I hear."

"I am," I asserted with a resolute nod, my body still thrumming, my gaze falling to his pink, swollen lips, "the question is, are you?"

"A girl who knows her own mind?" Bucky questioned dryly, a sarcastic smile stretching across his face as I rolled my eyes. His gaze turned warm, his smile sweet. His tone was husky, certain, "I know that I want this. I want you."

A broad smile plastered itself across my face, "Good."

/

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