I may need a cold shower...or some ice...
UPDATE: So in the original version of this chapter, I called Olivia 'Kira' a couple times, and that's an OC from another story. I apologize for that, and if you notice anymore mistakes like that, please let me know! I try to make sure I keep names straight, but sometimes my brain just can't work.
chibichibi98: It is a beautiful dream. And they both deserve it.
SevaraRose: You may want to prepare yourself then. And I love you too!
Hails: Hmm...that's an interesting idea. I'll have to play around with it.
Tiphanie: No more late updates for me! Sleep is important! Until I'm up until three writing because I've fallen into a hole with Cap and Bucky and I can't get out. Send us some water and some food and we'll be okay. But it does have a bittersweet feeling to it, because it is bittersweet. Bucky will probably never be safe, and by default, neither will Olivia. Though, things may play out...you never know.
Cassouminette: Yeah, I may be evil, but I'm not that evil. They get a break...for now.
CJ/OddBall: I've seen Civil War so don't worry about spoilers. And a lot of Civil War is going to change. But I'm not telling what's going to stay, and what's changing. Muahahaha!
DarylDixon'sLover: That would be sweet!
RosieHana: Aww thanks hon! I don't plan on giving up writing anytime soon.
Lesliezin: I'm evil...but I'm not that evil. And don't worry, I have a vast knowledge of the medical field, though probably not as much as someone who works in it, so don't worry about being technical. And MORE FEELS IN THIS CHAPTER HOLY CRAP WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME! Okay. I had to get that out.
BookGeek98: Aww thanks hon! I do consider myself strong. If you would have said that a few years ago, I would have disagreed with you. But now...now I know I'm strong. Sometimes I don't feel like it, but I am. Thanks for the hugs!
Enjoy!
She's shivering. James was leaning against the wall, Olivia wrapped up in the sleeping bag in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest. Her fever had come back, her cough worsening. He was scared. She had been doing so well...and now she was on a downhill spiral.
"Bucky?" She whimpered, and he almost didn't hear her.
"Shh." He hushed her, trying to figure out what he was going to do.
"Don't leave me." She whispered, curling closer to him.
"I won't, doll. I promise."
Her illness seemed to fluctuate. She'd be better, up and moving around for a couple of days, and then she'd be in bed with a fever. He still made her do pregnancy tests, each coming up negative. It offered him relief, until he thought maybe they were defective. What if she was, and it still hadn't shown? He was concerned about her. Concerned for her. James didn't know what he was going to do. He cared about Olivia. More than he probably should have. He wouldn't go so far as to say "love" yet, but he knew if he let things continue like they were...he'd find himself there. But he wanted to talk to her first.
He wanted her consent. He wanted her to tell him it was okay. To tell him she felt the same way, and she wanted him to love her. He'd done enough without her consent. He didn't want to push her, or make her uncomfortable. Pushing her away would devastate him beyond what he liked to think about. If she ever left again...if he ever hurt her again...he didn't want to think about what it would do to him. How badly it would ruin him. He needed her. She was his rock, as much as he was hers.
"Bucky?" She whispered, drawing him from his thoughts.
"Yes, doll?"
"You're squeezing me too tight."
He loosened his grip. "Sorry, doll. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No." She groaned, shifting in his lap so she was straddling his waist.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, pushing the thoughts racing through his head away. The last thing he needed was a woodie while she was delirious in his lap. Her eyes were slightly glazed over, her face flushed as she tilted her head, running her fingers over his jaw.
"You're so pretty." She whispered, scanning his face with her eyes. "So...pretty."
"And you're delirious."
She pouted a little. "That was mean."
"Doll, you have a fever." He said, pushing her hair from her face. "And as much as I'd love to, I don't want to do this while you're out of it. I don't want you to regret anything later."
"I won't regret it."
He smiled a little, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You say that now. Maybe once you're better, we'll talk about it."
She sighed, tucking her head into his neck.
And she did get better. Her fever broke a couple days later, and her cough was all but gone a couple weeks after. She was still weak, staying either on the couch, or in bed. James took care of her, making sure she had food, water, entertainment. She hadn't seemed scared of him, but he knew she was holding things in. It was all going to come pouring out at once, if she didn't talk about it. Normally he was the one holding things in. Keeping morbid details to himself. But she was the talker, and he knew things were going to get explosive if she didn't let it out.
And he was right.
He'd gone to the farmers market to get some plums, and some other fruits for Olivia. He'd nearly had a heart attack when he walked in the door, the apartment a mess, and the door to the balcony wide open. He dropped his backpack, rushing out to the balcony to find Olivia standing on the railing overlooking the street below. He wanted to shout, but he knew if he startled her, she'd fall. And there would be no surviving that. He knew it would be a miracle if he survived it. He reached out, grabbing her around the legs, pulling her down from the railing.
He shoved her to the ground rather roughly, pinning her down with his flesh hand on her chest, his metal hand by her head. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, and he knew his gaze was a little too cold.
"What the hell were you thinking?" He growled, pressing probably too hard on her chest.
"I'm sorry." She said, her voice cracking. "I just was thinking...and then I had a 'Jenny' moment and..."
"A 'Jenny' moment?"
"Right...you've never seen Forrest Gump." She swallowed, wincing as his hand pressed on her sternum. "James...you're hurting me."
He pulled his hand back like he'd been burned, breathing hard as he looked down at her. Her chest heaved as she took in a few deep breaths. She was wearing his red Henley, and nothing else. One pale leg was bent by his side, and his fingers twitched as he refrained from running them along the creamy skin. His eyes trailed up the expanse of skin until he found where the shirt had bunched up around her waist, the hint of black lace peeking out underneath. He swallowed thickly, standing to his feet, staring down at her.
"Get up. Help me clean up the apartment." He paused in the doorway, looking down at her legs again. "And put some pants on."
He didn't mean to be so cold, but she was teasing him, and she didn't even know it. He didn't want to make any advances and scare her off. He wanted to touch her. Feel her smooth skin under his hand. He wanted to kiss her over and over and over again, but he knew he couldn't. He wanted to make her happy, but he knew he couldn't. He was broken. She was broken. And sometimes, two broken pieces don't fit back together. He wanted them to. He wanted it so badly, but he didn't want to scare her away.
They cleaned up the apartment before Olivia showered, leaving Bucky to stew in his thoughts on the couch. He hadn't moved when she got out of the shower, toweling her hair dry as steam rolled out through the open door. He watched her, and he couldn't help his eyes from trailing up her legs as she bent over, digging through her bag. He could see the scar on her calf, and the other on her thigh. The "far too short to even be considered clothing" shorts she wore doing nothing to help his predicament. Neither did she when she plopped down on the couch, throwing her legs over his lap. He stiffened, closing his eyes as her feet rested on his thigh, knees bent by his chest. He clenched his fist, glad she was engrossed in her book so she wouldn't see his struggle.
It was silent between them, Olivia buried in Jane Austen, and James trying to control himself. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to run his fingers over her skin, watch as goosebumps formed where the metal ran up the inside of her thigh. Throw the teasing back in her face. Make her understand what she did to him when she wore those stupid shorts. When she walked around in nothing but his shirt.
"James?" She asked, snapping him from his monologue. His eyes snapped to her, finding her watching him, book closed in her lap. "...Can I ask you something?" She asked, rather hesitantly.
"Sure." He said, shifting slightly to try and relieve some of the ache he'd started to feel.
"Would you ever...touch me?"
His first response was no. His brain snapping to all the horrible things that had happened to her. He didn't want to add himself to that list a third time.
"Intimately?"
He was taken aback. That was not what he was expecting. Maybe he was guilty for thinking about her that way, and his brain had settled to punish him by giving him such horrible thoughts. But he hadn't thought about the other meaning of her words. Would he? He wanted to. A minute ago he had been thinking about teasing her, touching her. But now that she'd asked...he didn't know. What would her reaction be if he said yes? Would she run again? Would she shy away from him? What if he said no? Would she be relieved? Would she be disappointed? Did she want him to say yes?
"I've seen the way you look at me." She said, shifting slightly. "And..." She leaned forward, staring down at his metal hand where it was sitting on the couch beside him. "If you'd like to..." Her voice took on a husky tone as she grabbed his flesh hand, placing it by her ankle. "You could."
She leaned back and he took a moment to breathe as he soaked in the warmth of her skin under his hand. He could see the nerves in her eyes, but there was also something else there. She wasn't nervous because he was touching her. She was nervous because she was wondering if she crossed a line. He looked down at his hand, rough and scarred against her smooth, pale complexion.
He slowly ran his fingers up her leg, centimeter by centimeter, wanting to savor the way her skin felt under his hand, calloused from decades of handling weapons. He had such a rough exterior. He was a soldier. But yet, now, his fingers move with a delicacy he didn't even know he possessed.
As his fingers passed over her knee, he glanced up at her. Her chest was heaving, as she breathed, her bottom lip between her teeth. She did that alot, he noticed. He'd never payed much attention to it, but right there, at that moment, he wanted to bite it himself.
He pushed her legs apart, sliding his body between them. His right elbow held himself up on the arm of the couch behind her, his left hand resting on her bare outer thigh. He felt the shiver run through her as the cold metal touched her skin. Her book thumped to the floor as she lifted her hands to his face, bringing her lips to his. Their kisses started off slow and gentle, but the emotions between them grew, and they turned into small nips, and an occasional lick. James took her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging lightly before pulling away a hair so she could catch her breath. He looked into her eyes, her gaze hitting him right in his core and he knew he was screwed.