Six months passed by, and Summer's life changed in ways that she never would have been able to anticipate prior to Bucky's arrest months earlier.
Overnight, her novel really did become a bestseller, and it stayed at the top of the charts for longer than anyone could have predicted. Some bought the book out of sheer curiosity, others out of desire to find a flaw or something to use against the now very famous family, and a smaller number seemed to focus mainly on the more provocative scenes and would discuss them online with others who wondered aloud if Sebastian's real-life inspiration was also fond of hair-pulling and rough but emotional sex. Summer tried to stay away from those parts of the Internet, pretty sure that she would have been a little more conservative on the sex scenes during the writing process had she known that the entire world was going to find out how very reality-based they were. But she couldn't spend much time regretting that, as she had much bigger things to worry about.
Her video and pen-name reveal had made her a true instant celebrity in the blink of an eye. Before that, she had been a mysterious, slightly shadowy figure, known only as the pretty but probably crazy wife of the most wanted fugitive in the world and seen only in very brief glimpses during initial legal proceedings. But then once she opened up, everything changed. People who supported Bucky and were on his side began to seek her out online and post messages of support on a daily basis, and the traffic stats on her blog were through the roof. In fact, more than once, the site crashed and had to be revamped by the host in order to get back up and running.
For the most part, people liked her. They found her genuine and charming, and many were fascinated by the very thought of her relationship Bucky. She was inundated with questions of how they had met, how long they'd been together, and how they had come to be in the committed marriage that they were in presently. She couldn't even begin to answer every single comment or question, and she tried to keep those private details to herself for as long as she could.
But not everyone in the general public was so generous or understanding. Harassing messages and trolls became a daily occurrence, either through her email or her blog. Some were more obvious and frivolous in nature, simply sent from people who were bored and annoying but otherwise harmless, but others were more serious. Bucky had nearly flown off the handle when Summer had mentioned receiving her first death threat. Then when she received five messages in the same day from a man who said that she was a disgrace to her country who deserved to be raped and left for dead, Bucky had broken Tony's enormous kitchen table with a single smack of his metal fist. Summer hadn't meant for him to know, but he had seen the look on her face and demanded to know what she'd read on her phone that was so bad. Tony had a new table delivered the next day, but Bucky didn't recover quite so quickly.
Being a public figure, Summer realized, allowed a person to see both the best and the worst of humanity. She was able to be in contact with amazing, supportive strangers who offered to donate their time and money to help her and her family during that difficult time, but she also had to deal with cowardly and potentially dangerous people who hid behind their keyboards and spat the most vile hatred at both her and Bucky and even their children on a daily basis. One thing that she had on her side was her friends, quite a few of whom had already gone through the same thing.
Steve would tell her of his first days as Captain America, a propaganda tool that was loved by general audiences but ridiculed by his military peers. He heard it all back then, and he heard even more upon waking up seventy years in the future in the middle of the Internet revolution. He was loved and hated with equal fervor, and he told Summer to let the hate and the fear roll off her back and stay focused on the objective. It was how soldiers won battles and it was how she'd win this fight, too, or at least that was what he told her.
Then there was Natasha who had an even greater knowledge of what Summer and Bucky were both going through. All of her dark, sometimes gruesome secrets were out in the open and had been for some time. The whole world knew that she had killed innocents and even children in service of the KGB, and she was well aware that much of the world considered her irredeemable and untrustworthy. The key, she said, was not giving the world permission to drag you down and make you doubt yourself and your place within it. Everyone had opinions, but very, very few had ever experienced a childhood and a life even remotely similar to what Natasha had, and the same went for Bucky and Summer. Opinions didn't matter. Only the truth did, and one's truth was something that could only come from within and certainly not from a stranger's half-witted opinion.
Tony had a more colorful way of putting it, telling Summer as the new table was delivered to replace the one Bucky destroyed, "Look, being a celebrity's like being a prostitute. Everyone wants a piece of you and they want you to do what they want you to do. Nobody in the press gives a damn about you or what you want, but that's your life now. It's reality. So you make damn sure you stand up for yourself and keep your head up, and even if they try to pay you extra to do the weird stuff, you don't cross that line because it's not worth it and you'll just end up with a mean case of herpes anyway. And that's if you're lucky."
Summer had blinked at him in slight confusion. "... Thanks?"
Tony nodded and popped a handful of pistachios into his mouth. "Anytime. By the way, next time your husband wants to break something, can you try to make sure it's not something that'll cost me a couple grand to replace?"
In the end, Summer had decided that she simply wasn't equipped to handle the press on her own. Acting on advice from both Steve and Pepper, she hired a public relations manager to help keep hers and Bucky's profiles intact and better navigate their newfound celebrity status. She also hired a representative to field interview requests and give statements on her behalf, and every person that she hired had worked for Stark Industries before and was as trustworthy as she could find. It put an extra drain on her wallet, but it was worth it and it made a big difference. She even managed to have the IP address traced of the man who liked to send her daily rape threats, with Matt and Foggy's help, and he was found and arrested. She made sure that story made its way into the news, mainly just for the principle of making the statement that such threats shouldn't be considered "part of the territory" of being famous and that no woman should have to deal with such abuse.
While she learned how to better handle and interact with the press at large, Bucky continued to struggle on a day to day basis to keep his head on straight. Staying inside one building and being confined to certain areas of it were not good for his state of mind, and Summer could tell how he was slowly losing his mind from sheer boredom alone. Being chemically enhanced, he was both blessed and cursed with a high amount of energy that he just couldn't burn like he had been able to before. As much time as he spent in the gym and getting out his aggression by sparring with whoever felt like getting a black eye that day - usually Steve - not being able to go out and work and really burn that energy up left him grumpy on good days and not entirely there on bad ones.
Adding to the oddness of the situation, Summer had resumed her full workload for SI and that left Bucky to watch the kids five days a week while she worked. Tony liked to joke and call him Mr. Mom, but David and Adelaide both quite loved having him around all the time. It was one rare pleasant side effect of it all, but as much as Bucky loved his kids and adored getting to spend so much time with them, he was still slowly going stir-crazy on top of the stress he already had.
The others tried to keep him company and help when they could. Clint visited sometimes, and Darcy taught him how to make decent food for the kids and the art of properly flipping a pancake. Sam brought him movies and games to distract him, and Wanda would give him a break from the kids and take them out when they needed the fresh air and Bucky needed some time alone. But then there were days when Summer would be up in her office working and Steve and the others would be off taking care of Avengers business, leaving Bucky alone and feeling like a useless burden. He hated those days, and Summer hated to see him like that. But there was very little that she, or anybody, could do.
At night, they'd get the kids to bed together and then have increasingly rare time alone with each other before Summer, who was always exhausted, would pass out and Bucky would lay there awake next to her until he'd catch his usual four or so hours of sleep. Summer would try to stay awake for as long as she could each night, because they both needed that time with each other to stay sane and maintain their connection in the face of constant worry and uncertainty.
Years prior, back when Summer's house was still standing and she had only known for Bucky for just under a month, he had told her that kissing her helped him forget the horrors of his past. The same was true of the present day, only he was trying to forget his worries of the future as well. She could feel his always-present slight desperation in the way that he held her, sometimes a little too tightly and bruising, which would always result in him apologizing and being disappointed in himself the next day. But she didn't mind, and she never complained or objected to losing sleep in order to give him what he needed. She needed it too, needed him and the intimacy that always came so effortlessly for them. It was the one thing in life that was easy and always there, something that was safe and consistent and reliable when few other things were. And Bucky was always eager to forget, just for a little while, and lose himself with her.
Their lives went on for half a year in this routine, until it came time for the jury selection phase of the trial. It was the last phase before opening arguments would begin, and Bucky was required to be present for the proceedings. It was also apparently a rather important phase, as Matt had told Bucky and Summer that some legal minds believed that cases were won and lost primarily based on jury selection. It was a delicate process, and if just one biased person was seated in the jury, it could drastically alter the course of the trial. It was very important stuff.
It was also causing another spike in media attention. So, just a few days before the first court date, Summer decided to try to turn coverage in their favor and give her first sit-down televised interview. Bucky was predictably hesitant about her doing it, but everyone else agreed with her decision and gave her all the encouragement that she needed.
The interview was a big one, on one of the big three basic channels instead of a cable news network, and one of the channel's best-known female reporters landed the interview with Summer. Word had it that the reporter was hoping to get anchor one day, and Summer knew to tread carefully in such a situation. And she became doubly convinced of that when Tony caught wind of what was happening and choked on his drink at the mention of the reporter's name. Apparently, he had some kind of complicated history with Christine Everheart, one that Pepper eventually and rather unenthusiastically explained.
The morning of the interview, Summer kissed Bucky and the kids goodbye and headed downtown with Sam as her escort. Steve, who normally would have accompanied her, was busy at the Avengers facility and Sam had volunteered to take her instead. He acted as her personal bodyguard, driving her to the studio and seeing her safely inside, and he stayed nearby and on alert the entire time. Summer made sure he knew how very grateful she was for his help, but he, as always, brushed her off and was very convincing when he said that he was happy to do it.
The set for the interview looked a lot like something from a Diane Sawyer special, with two nice, comfortable chairs facing one another in a small but well-furnished room and warm lighting all around. Summer eyed all of the equipment and cameras a bit warily until Christine arrived, which was only about two moments after Summer had.
The journalist was as pretty as she was on TV, her blonde hair and makeup picture perfect as she smiled and extended her hand to Summer upon approach. "Mrs. Barnes," she smiled as they shook hands, "Christine Everheart. Thank you so much for coming today."
"Hi," Summer smiled, trying to quell her sudden last-minute nerves. "Nice to meet you. And thank you for having me."
"Oh, it's my pleasure. I've been following your blog ever since your video awhile back, and I have to say that I admire your bravery, I really do."
Flattery would get the woman nowhere, but Summer still smiled and replied, "Oh, thank you. It hasn't been easy, but... I'm just trying to do my best, you know?"
"Absolutely," Christine nodded. She then glanced at Sam, who was standing behind Summer far enough to be in the background but close enough to keep his eye on everything. She smiled and then said, "And you must be the Falcon."
Summer watched as Sam briefly stepped forward to shake Christine's hand next. "Sam Wilson."
"I'm a big fan," she smiled, all dazzling white teeth and seemingly not at all the vicious, somewhat desperate sort that Tony had suggested she was. Maybe she had turned a new leaf as of late?
"Well, who isn't?" Sam joked, and Summer chuckled while Christine ate it up. If nothing else, at least the meeting was off to a good start.
After, Christine helped Summer get settled in to her seat and went over some notes with her about the interview while a few makeup people came over and made sure Summer's face was ready for TV. It was all fairly straightforward, and Summer's terms were as well. She told Christine that she was open to discussing anything and wanted to be as transparent as possible, but that she wanted the conversation to remain respectful and not veer into anything inappropriate or legally dubious. She was here to talk and answer questions, not incriminate herself, and Christine agreed to this wholeheartedly.
Then, once Summer's face had about two new layers of makeup on and her straightened hair had been combed and sprayed against her will, Christine had her own last minute touch ups applied and Summer took a moment to calm down and deal with her jitters. She was about to give an interview that would air on national television and be seen on millions of people's TV screens, tablets and phones, and that was enough to make anybody nervous. She straightened out the simple, classy dark blue dress she wore, making sure the hem was draped over her knees and then glancing at Sam as he stood on the sidelines. He grinned and gave her the thumbs up, and she smiled and took a deep centering breath.
She was a New York Times bestselling author, wife of a WWII war hero and Avenger, and a pretty damn good mother. She could totally do this, and besides, there was no turning back now.
To her surprise, as soon as Christine asked the first question, the whole hour flew by in an easy, almost stress-free flash.
"I have to ask the question that's been on a lot of people's minds since the start of all of this," Christine said a few questions into the interview. "How did the two of you meet?"
Summer smiled, her hands folded in her lap and shoulders straight as she replied, "Well, the answer to that is probably pretty boring compared to what people must think, honestly. I lived in Fall's Church, just outside of D.C., and the day that SHIELD collapsed, I was sitting at home with my son and trying to get dinner ready. I was watching the news and peeling potatoes, and then I realized that my son had wandered outside. I threw everything down and went out to get him, and I just about had a heart attack. He was standing there in the middle of the yard poking what looked like a dead body with a stick."
Christine's eyes widened. "Oh my."
Summer nodded. "Yeah. So I told him to get inside and I went and grabbed my gun, since I had no idea what was going on or if the guy was alive or dead. It ended up being him. Bucky had been running from HYDRA agents trying to capture him and take him back, and he'd been shot a couple times. He passed out right there in front of my house."
"Did you recognize him from the news? Did you know who he was?"
"I did eventually, but not at first. I had no idea who he was - I just knew he needed help. He was bleeding and confused and just in really bad shape. So I helped him inside and tried to get him cleaned up a little, and gave him some food. But HYDRA, they had never fed him real food - just IV nutrition and protein shake type things that were all chemical and not food - so he couldn't keep anything down. He hadn't eaten real food since World War Two."
"Wow," Christine marveled, nodding. "How long did he stay with you?"
"A month," Summer replied.
"Was he dangerous at that time? Were you afraid of him?"
Summer paused and then replied decisively, "No, I wasn't. I was afraid of the situation at first, but he never gave me a reason to be afraid of him. He never tried to hurt me or my son or threaten us. He was never dangerous to us. He was very... broken back then. He didn't know what his name was or who he was until I showed him an article on the Internet."
"You told him who he was?" Christine asked, and Summer nodded.
"It was a huge shock to him. It was a shock to me too, because I mean... here was this guy, this war hero that I read about in school, and now he was alive and still young and staying with me in my house. I still wonder every day how these things happened to him, how he was allowed to be taken by such evil people and turned into a weapon."
"How did he react to discovering his past?" Christine asked.
"He was devastated," Summer replied, thinking back to that time when she had barely known him. Her mind briefly flashed to when she had found him on her couch with her gun in his hand and his eyes on the barrel of it, but she wouldn't dare speak of such a deeply personal moment that wasn't hers to tell. "He hated himself and he hated what they did to him. He still has a lot of trouble accepting his past and forgiving himself, even though he knows that none of it was his own choice."
"Do you have a hard time accepting it? Do you ever kind of think wow, I'm married to this person with all of this history who's lived through all of this violence, some of which he committed himself?"
"Well, like I said, none of that was his choice," Summer said, making sure that point didn't go unheeded. "But, yeah... I mean, every soldier, every prisoner of war who survives comes home and deals with the aftermath, deals with the PTSD and tries to live with what they did. It's no different for him, only its on a level that's just... hard to comprehend. He's come a really long way from back then and he's had a lot of therapy and time to come to terms with his past but like I said, it's still hard. I think in a lot of ways it always will be."
"You know something about hard times yourself," Christine observed. "You lost your parents at a very young age."
Summer nodded. "Yeah."
"And your son, you had him just out of high school."
Summer nodded again. "That's right."
"Do you consider yourself to have lived a difficult life?"
Summer took a breath and considered that for a moment. "I don't think life is easy for anyone, honestly. My life could have been harder. I was blessed to have an amazing grandmother who took care of me after my parents died. She was a very tough, strong-willed lady who went through more in her life than I could ever imagine."
"She was a Holocaust survivor," Christine noted.
Summer nodded. "Yes, she was. She was actually pregnant with my mother when she was taken. She grew up in Poland, just before the war."
"That is remarkable," Christine said, glancing at notes that were resting in her lap. "I did a little bit of research, and according to a few records, the camp that your grandmother was sent to was actually liberated by the Howling Commandos in 1944."
Summer smiled, the most genuine smile that she'd given yet. "I didn't know that myself until a few years ago, actually. My brother found her old diaries and he found out that way. I couldn't believe it. She actually wrote about the man who helped her out of her bunk - she was too weak to walk by then - and she said it was a handsome American man in a blue coat."
Christine looked genuinely surprised by this, and maybe just the slightest bit miffed that the most noteworthy thing of the whole story hadn't come from her own research. "Bucky Barnes personally rescued your grandmother?"
Summer nodded again, still smiling. "That's right."
"So... essentially, if not for him, you wouldn't exist today."
Summer nodded, though she was careful to add, "Well, without a lot of soldiers and their sacrifices, I wouldn't be here. And neither would a lot of us. At the very least, we wouldn't be here speaking English right now."
Christine smiled a bit at her answer, and Summer was starting to understand why nobody she knew had anything good to say about her. She seemed to be looking for the aha moment, a soundbite that would define the whole interview and make it as famous as Christine wanted it to be.
"I have to admit," Christine said, "I'm fascinated by your family and your whole story. Your grandmother lost her husband in the war and emigrated to the States just before she gave birth to your mother. She then worked hard her whole life and raised your mother on her own, and she never remarried."
"Nobody could replace her husband," Summer smiled. "And she broke some hearts in her day, too. She was very beautiful, her whole life."
"And she raised you," Christine noted.
"And my brother," Summer nodded. "She was our rock for so long. It's still so strange that she isn't here. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."
"What do you think she would say about... all of this, if she was here now?"
Summer drew a deep breath and then chuckled before replying, "Well, I would pretty much bet my life that if she was here right now, she'd get up and go and put on her best dress and her best hat and go march right up to the White House and demand they leave us alone or else face her wrath. That was the thing about her, you know... nobody could scare her or intimidate her. She had already seen true evil and lived through watching everybody around her die. She had a strength to her that... you just don't see it in ordinary people."
Christine's next slight change of subject was no surprise. "Tell me about your children. How are they handling all of this?"
Summer paused, taking a breath and reminding herself to tread lightly, especially when it came to the subject of her kids. "They're hanging in there. My daughter's so little, she of course doesn't understand any of it. My son though, he understands, and it's a lot harder for him."
"And from what I've gathered from your blog, your son is autistic?"
Summer nodded. "Yes, he is."
"You have quite a hectic life, juggling a new baby and a special needs son in the middle of having to work and deal with the trial of the century."
Summer smiled, wondering if Christine was trying to draw self pity out of her and make her appear rather annoying or whiny to the audience. "Well, I try to just... take life as it comes. It's not easy, but it is what it is. Innocent people are put on trial all the time. In my case, it just happens to be all over the news."
Christine wasn't getting the sort of answers that she wanted. After a brief pause and glances at her notes, Christine looked at Summer again and began, "I've been reading some of the comments posted on your blog, and while most of them are fairly positive, you do have your share of critics."
Summer nodded. "Of course."
"I'll read one... this was posted by an anonymous reader. 'I have to say that in my opinion, you don't deserve any of the support that you're getting. I don't know if these people are just stupid or don't know any better, but the way I see it, you're an attention-starved irresponsible parent who obviously doesn't care about the safety of her kids. You say you put your kids first, but obviously you care more about yourself and what you want than you care about your poor autistic son and his safety. Who in their right mind would let a man like that near their kids? Especially a disabled kid? I'm surprised they haven't taken your kids away yet.'"
Christine then looked at Summer expectantly, and Summer reminded herself to stay calm and not bite the woman's head off. She needed to stay cool and composed, but she also wasn't going to mince her words. "I don't think I really have much to say to that, honestly. I'm not looking for people's approval of my choices or my actions, or how I parent my kids. Especially strangers on the Internet who hide behind being anonymous and say things they'd probably never say to someone face to face."
"But can you say with complete confidence and honesty that you haven't put your children in danger by choosing to have a relationship with James Barnes?" Christine asked.
"I can say with complete confidence and honesty that my son is happier than he's ever been before in his life now that he has a father. And I can say Bucky's kept us safe and been a better father to him and our daughter than I can express in a forty five minute interview."
"I'm not questioning either of your parenting skills," Christine replied. "But the truth is, judging from what I've managed to confirm about the last few years of your life, you and your son have both faced quite a bit of danger. You lost your Virginia home in a fire that looks a lot more like a missile strike than a case of arson or an accident. Then you were present during the attack on Stark Tower only a few months later. Was your son with you during both of those events?"
Summer's anger was starting to rise, and on the sidelines, Sam was preparing to step and end the interview if Christine's line of questioning continued down that path. "Yes, he was."
"Then your relationship - as fulfilling and romantic as I'm sure it is - has put you and your children in danger. Do you deny this?"
Summer made sure that she took a deep, centering breath before giving her response. "You know, Miss Everheart, all I can tell you is that I've learned a lot over the last five, almost six years. I'm not perfect, no, and I've taken a lot of risks and done plenty of things that I'm sure a lot of people would agree with. Half of the people who are gonna watch this probably think I'm crazy or just in it for attention or money, or... who knows. And they can think what they want. I know my truth. And ultimately I answer to myself and my kids, and my husband. They're my priority and they always have been. I'm not here to defend myself or make myself look good. I'm here right now because I want people to understand that my husband is innocent and that what's happening to him is unfair and unjust. That's been the whole point of everything I've done, from the video on my blog to this interview now."
"And a lot of people would agree with you that he's innocent," Christine replied. "But others would say that he killed a very beloved President and many other innocent people, and that he needs to answer for that."
"And if he had been in his right mind and had known his own name and been aware of what he was doing, then I would agree," Summer replied. "But he wasn't."
"Do you think that you would feel that way if you weren't already biased in his favor?"
Summer paused and looked at the other woman blankly for a moment. She was, in a word, just terrible. Maybe she should have picked another network to give her first big interview to. "Yes, I do think that, because pinning the crimes on him personally is nothing more than the worst kind of victim-blaming."
"I'll ask one more question on this topic and then we can move on if you'd like," Christine replied. "How do you plan on explaining all of this to your children? They'll find out one way or the other, whether from their history textbooks or from other kids, or the TV. How do you plan on telling them that their father, who they love and look up to, was once a sworn enemy of the United States and a cold-blooded murderer who killed JFK?"
Sam almost stepped forward and told Christine that the interview was over at that point. But when Summer shot him a fleeting look from her peripheral vision, he reluctantly stayed where he was and Summer answered the question while trying to keep her anger and irritation out of her voice.
"I plan on telling them the truth," Summer replied. "And my son is very smart, by the way, and he already knows some of this. What I've told him is that Bucky was once a normal, young, brave man who served his country and fought in the worst war we've ever had. He was a hero and helped save a lot of lives all over the world. Then some very bad people got hold of him and tortured him until he forgot who he was, and he did a lot of very bad things because he didn't know any better and he wasn't able to tell them no. But then one day he started to remember, and then he started to get better. And now he's a hero again, and he's trying to make up for all the bad things he did and protect people, just like he did before."
"Do you believe that?" Christine asked. "Do you consider the issue to be truly that simple, even from an objective standpoint?"
Summer smiled and looked at Christine as if she had just asked the world's dumbest question. "Yes. I believe that more than I believe anything."
Christine called for a break just after Summer gave that last answer. The cameras stopped rolling and Christine accepted a bottle of water from an assistant, and Summer looked over at Sam to find him standing there looking just as annoyed with Christine as she was, but he also gave Summer a nod of approval and small smile that instantly made her feel better.
"Let's take ten and then we can get back to it, okay?" Christine smiled, her fake-nice persona back in full effect now that the interview was paused. Two people came over to shove a makeup brush in Summer's face again and screw with her hair some more, and she decided at that point that she'd had quite enough of Christine Everheart for one day.
"You know what," Summer said, taking the little mic off of the collar of her dress, "I think we can end things there. Honestly, I have nothing more to say to you."
Summer stood up, and Christine followed with a look of alarm and surprise on her face. "But we're not finished yet."
"No, I think we are," Summer replied, shoving the microphone into the hands of the overly enthusiastic makeup artist. "I know what you're trying to do, and I expected it, I did, but I'm not gonna sit here and answer questions that you literally designed to try to trip me up and make me look like an idiot."
Christine was aghast. "I apologize if that's your impression, but -"
"And you don't drag people's kids into it, either," Summer interrupted. "I told you beforehand to leave them out of your questions, and you didn't."
Christine, normally unflappable, seemed a bit... well, flapped. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Barnes, but -"
"You can't convince me to stay," Summer told her flatly, Sam now flanking her as they both began to turn towards the exit. "And don't bother trying to edit the interview to make yourself look good and make me look stupid, because Sam here was recording the whole time and we'll post our own video if yours is inaccurate."
Sam smiled and pointed to an inconspicuous pin on his jacket. "Gotta love Stark tech. It's even high def, too."
Christine glared at them both, her expression particularly souring at the mention of Tony's general existence. But she quickly plastered a smile on her face and said in her most fake, transparently dismissive tone, "Fantastic. Have a wonderful rest of the day, then. And tell Tony I said hi."
"It'll be my top priority," Summer replied with her own fake smile before turning with Sam and heading for the door. Not normally all that well-suited to confrontation, she felt anxious and a little bit jittery following the exchange, but the minute they were out of the studio and heading down an elevator towards their car, Summer felt a huge sense of relief overcome her. She hadn't even realized how stressed and nervous she was about the interview until that moment.
"So," she asked Sam, biting her lip and fidgeting slightly, "how'd I do?"
"You know what," he told her in all sincerity, "I think that you did pretty damn well. That woman's a shark. You were smart to end it when you did."
"Did I look nervous? Did I answer the questions okay or did I sound stupid?"
He put a hand on her shoulder and assured her, "You did fine. If anyone's gonna come out of that interview looking like a fool, it's gonna be her."
"Are you just saying that?" Summer asked, squinting slightly and trying to determine how much he truly meant those words.
Sam merely gave her a look and said, "I'm gonna go ahead and pretend that you didn't just ask me that."
She laughed and nodded, accepting then that he meant what he said. "Okay, okay. Sorry."
He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze before letting go as the elevator came to a stop. "Let's get you back home. Think you deserve a nice, strong drink after that."
"But it's barely noon," she pointed out with a smile as they exited the elevator and headed out of the building.
"So what? Look, even I need a drink now, and I did was watch," Sam replied, making Summer laugh more. They made it to the car without incident, and the whole way home, Summer worried about the interview and its implications. The bright side of the ordeal was that she didn't have to wait long to find out, as it would be airing later that night in prime time.
Then again, maybe she just might need a stiff drink or two after all.
Later that day, before the interview special was set to air, Bucky got away from everyone to take some much-needed time for himself. He went to one of the few designated areas of the tower that wouldn't set off the ankle monitor that weighed above his foot like an anchor constantly reminding him that he was still a prisoner, the gym that was just a few floors down, and he went there alone after shrugging off several people who offered to accompany him.
He didn't know what was worse, being alone or being surrounded by people who were constantly watching him for signs of mental distress and always offering to help him even when he didn't need it. He knew they all meant well and only wanted the best for him, but he would have been lying if he said that being treated like a ticking time bomb didn't get old fast. Steve tried not to smother him, and for the most part he didn't. The same went for Summer, but he still sometimes reached his limits of what he could handle even from them. And when that happened, he'd make sure the kids were being looked after and then would slip away to take out his deep-rooted anger and frustrations on a reinforced punching bag that had been designed specifically for Steve after he'd destroyed one too many for Tony's liking.
It was a simple and easy exercise. and even his therapist approved of it. He wasn't officially back doing sessions with Dr. Connor, but the old man had dropped by the tower a few times to check on him and try to convince him to talk to him twice a week again. Bucky had thus far refused, the thought of sitting down and talking about all the grim and complicated thoughts in his head more than he could bear at the present time, but he didn't mind the brief visits. Connor assured him that wanting time alone was perfectly fine and healthy, and so was beating the crap out of an inanimate object in order to redirect his growing anger at something other than himself, his usual target.
And so he went, feeling an instant sense of relief at the solitude and finding slight solace in the routine of it all - wrap up his right hand, leave the other as it was, and simply stop thinking and act. He missed being able to do the same thing on missions or at night on the streets, letting instinct take over and doing what he did best and getting to help people at the same time. He missed it a lot. Without having that outlet anymore, he simply didn't know what to do with himself most of the time.
As he took out his aggression on the innocent and unsuspecting punching bag, he tried not to think about how much he was dreading watching Summer's interview on TV in just an hour or two. She had told him all about how it went and what to expect, and he wasn't looking forward to watching some bloodthirsty journalist try to poke at his wife and trick her into inadvertently sabotaging her efforts of defending Bucky. He hated that she had to do these things when he knew how nervous they made her and how overwhelmed she was by it all. She wouldn't admit it, but he could see it in her eyes and the way that she slept at night like a rock and struggled to wake up in the mornings. She was exhausted and stressed and doing too much, while he on the other hand was doing nothing.
Or at least that was what he told himself as his punches grew harder and more brutal. The worst part of it all was knowing that he couldn't do a thing about any of it. He was at the mercy of the federal government and the jury that would be selected and seated in the coming days, and so was Summer and their kids. And if there was one thing he hated above all else, it was being under the control of men in positions of power.
An hour passed by before he heard the sound of quiet footsteps, telling him that he was no longer alone. He knew by now how to tell who was there just by the sound of their feet hitting the floor. Steve sounded the same as he had when they were kids, only a lot heavier. Summer's footsteps were hurried and quick these days, as she was always flitting from one place to another. Tony took long, lazy strides, like he owned the place - which, to be fair, he did - and Sam had an audible swagger that set him apart from the others. Wanda's feet were deceptively light, and that was because Bucky himself had trained her to carry herself that way. The footsteps currently sounding in his ear, however, sounded more like those of Natasha in how nearly silent and efficient they were. Usually, Bucky was the only one able to hear her coming. She made a game out of sneaking up on Steve and making him jump, but she'd never managed to get the same reaction out of Bucky.
He expected her low, slightly raspy voice to come next, teasing him about what that poor punching bag had ever done to him to deserve such abuse, and that was why he was particularly surprised to glance to his left and find his lawyer standing there instead.
Considering Matt got around with the aid of a walking stick, that made his silent steps even more baffling than they would have been anyway.
"Sorry to interrupt," Matt said as a form of greeting while Bucky paused in his movements. "Interview's about to air."
"Oh. Thanks," Bucky muttered, dropping his arms and glancing at the punching bag before taking a deep breath. He checked a clock on the wall and realized he'd been there for an hour and a half, which was particularly funny since he'd yet to even break a real sweat. He blamed the abundance of chemically-enhanced energy that used to be a blessing but lately was a nothing more than a curse.
"How are you holding up?" Matt asked as Bucky went about unwrapping his hand.
"Same, I guess," Bucky shrugged in response. He never knew how to answer that question. He was useless and powerless and his family was constantly in the media's crosshairs - how was he supposed to be holding up?
"Well, everything's about to start moving a lot faster," Matt said. "Once the jury's seated and opening arguments are done, you'll be surprised at how quick it'll go."
"That a good thing or a bad thing?" Bucky asked, grabbing a bottle of water sitting nearby and taking a long drink from it.
"Probably a good thing," Matt replied. "You know, things aren't looking as bad as you might think. You're gaining a lot of support. And we found that guy who was threatening Summer."
Bucky scowled as he somewhat overly aggressively replaced the cap on the water bottle, fuming inside at just the mention of that... thing, not a man, who had sent those vile messages to Summer several times a day over the course of an entire month. It was a particularly sensitive subject for him, not just because of the extra mental distress that Summer had experienced but also because Bucky hadn't been able to track the man down himself and break his neck.
"I have a contact in the NYPD," Matt added casually, "and when I called to follow up on the arrest, he told me that they found the guy in bad shape."
Bucky furrowed his brow. "Bad shape?"
"Apparently," Matt replied, "that vigilante in Hell's Kitchen had a hand in apprehending him. Broke a couple ribs and shattered his nose. He'll be put on trial once he recovers."
Bucky was dumbfounded for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say or how a vigilante he'd never met had been able to have a hand in finding the guy.
... Or had he met him? He thought back to his birthday, when he and a masked man had crossed paths in Hell's Kitchen after having inadvertently targeting the same rapist. He'd learned later that the vigilante was something of a big deal and even had a name.
"That... Devil of Hell's Kitchen guy?"
There was an almost indecipherable quirk to Matt's lips as he replied, "They call him Daredevil now, actually."
Bucky was on the verge of asking how the hell this Daredevil had gotten involved and why when Foggy showed up in the doorway next, bearing his usual friendly smile and saying, "I was literally sent down here by Captain America to tell you guys to hurry up before you miss the interview. I shouldn't still be this starstruck but God help me, I am. I'm hopeless."
Matt chuckled. "Just as long as you don't tell him about the shield you got tattooed on your ass in college."
Foggy's brows shot up his head before he looked at Bucky and insisted, "I did not - that did not happen. I do not have a tattoo of the shield on my - I can prove it!"
Bucky held up his hand as he followed Matt to the elevator. "Please don't. I believe you."
"Yeah, Foggy, please keep your pants on in front of our client," Matt joked as the three of them stepped inside the elevator. "Try to maintain some decorum."
Foggy glared humorously at Matt as they began ascending the building, but their good-natured bickering fell on deaf ears as Bucky continued to think on what he'd just been told. He couldn't have been happier that the scumbag who'd been harassing Summer had suffered a decent beating before being taken into custody, but there was more to the story and he knew it. He looked at Matt, this calm and articulate, seemingly simple and pure-hearted lawyer whose footsteps were as light and silent as Natasha's and who had once ducked a stray ball from Adelaide's ball pit with stunning accuracy for a blind man, or really any man, and a thought then occurred to Bucky that was almost too ludicrous to entertain.
But before he could consider it further and either reject or confirm the idea, he was back on the floor that he lived on and was heading towards the big communal living area where Summer and the kids were already seated. Steve was there too, along with Natasha, Darcy, and Wanda, and Paul had also decided to pay a visit. He was sitting next to Summer and making Addie giggle with funny faces that he was making, but as soon as the little girl saw Bucky walking their way, her face lit up and she exclaimed "Dada!"
Bucky smiled scooped the toddler up into his arms, giving her a kiss before sitting down next to Summer and sharing a silent but affectionate look with her. She smiled at both him and their daughter, putting her hand on his knee before asking a bit anxiously, "Ready to watch my big interview?"
Bucky blew out a breath and then glanced at the huge TV before them, the credits of the show preceding the nightly news rolling. He then turned back to Summer and lied, "Yeah."
She smiled and then cringed before covering her eyes. "Oh God, I can't watch."
Paul reached over and tugged her hands down. "Oh come on, none of that. You're a celebrity now, Miss Bestseller-Slash-Real Housewife of Avengers Tower. Accept your fate."
Summer pouted but relented, keeping her eyes on the TV as the network news graphics swirled on the screen. After Adelaide squirmed to get down and go play, Bucky let her go and then took Summer's hand and entwined their fingers together in a quiet show of support. She looked at him and smiled in a way that was almost a frown, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead just as the show began.
Adelaide played on the floor obliviously, sadly used to seeing both of her parents on TV now, and David ended up scooting into Bucky's other side and watching the entire interview with them. The interview itself ended up being just as Summer had described it, and that was a good thing as it meant that the network hadn't overly edited it. For the most part, Summer's answers were left intact and the main alteration was that the order of the questions was changed so that the end of the interview appeared less abrupt. Otherwise, Summer was satisfied with how it had turned out.
Bucky, meanwhile, felt a mixture of pride, love, and utter despair the entire time that he watched his now-famous wife answer Christine Everheart's questions. He knew how difficult the interview had been and how nervous about it she'd been ever since she had agreed to do it, so seeing her poised and speaking with a surprising amount of grace when she was somewhat known for stumbling over her words and embarrassing herself... it made him feel incredibly proud of her. And the passion that she had when she spoke of him and her unshakable belief in his innocence made a part of him fall in love with her all over again. But all of those positive, sweet feelings were nearly overshadowed by his anger that she was in the position to have to do these things at all and open herself up to scrutiny and criticism from the entire world. He didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for what she'd already endured thanks to his past.
Reaction to the interview was, thanks to the Internet, immediate. Summer's name started trending on Twitter before the interview had even finished airing, and countless users expressed their disbelief that Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos had actually rescued Summer's grandmother from a concentration camp in the 40s and thus were directly responsible for Summer's existence. Some noted that their entire story was like a real-life and rather dark fairy tale, and others laughed that their "ship name" - a term which Summer had to explain to Bucky, who didn't understand what any of it had to do with boats - would be either Sucky or Bummer. Then one user suggested Summer Soldier instead, and that got enough retweets that it counted as an official christening, even though Bucky was still confused as to why they needed this "ship name"... thing in the first place.
The critics got their opinions in, too. Some said that Christine went too easy on Summer, and others claimed that using Summer's grandmother's history was just a ploy to raise sympathy and was a cheap tactic that dishonored the memory of her and other Holocaust victims. Summer had expected that particular criticism, so she wasn't the least bit surprised. She also wasn't surprised when some folks on Twitter - mainly men but also a few women - expressed dismay at Summer getting so much attention and wondered aloud if the press would have been as fond of her if she was overweight or generally considered unattractive.
Bucky tried to tune out the comments as best as he could, though that wasn't easy with Natasha and Paul both digging through Twitter on their phones for the next hour or so. Instead, he focused on his own relief that the interview was over and gave Summer a warm smile when Foggy and Matt both told her that she did great, a sentiment echoed by the whole room. She sighed with relief and laid her head on Bucky's shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head as he mentally flogged himself for being at the root of her troubles. It was a habit he doubted he'd ever break.
Especially if all of this was ultimately for nothing and he would be sentenced to death in only a matter of months anyway.
At day's end, Summer found herself even more exhausted than usual. She spent the night reading through Twitter and Facebook, and she also posted a new entry on her blog thanking her followers for their continued support after they had all but flooded her page with kind words. By the time that she was finished and had showered and washed away all the makeup and leftover hairspray from the interview and was ready for bed, she wandered back into her bedroom to find Adelaide sleeping contentedly on Bucky's chest as he sat with his back to the headboard and his phone in his hand.
As sweet of a sight as it was, Summer felt a twinge of sadness. She'd been so busy lately that she felt a bit like an absentee mom, and to make matters even worse, Adelaide had weaned herself completely from nursing just about a month prior. She didn't know if it was the hormones or just how bonding and sweet of an act nursing was, but she missed it terribly. She missed David too, and the days where he'd been glued to her side until bedtime, making her laugh all the time without having to say a word.
Bucky looked up from his phone as Summer lingered in the bathroom doorway, a knee-length robe covering her up as she stood there with a bittersweet look on her face. He locked his phone and set it down, giving her a small smile as he asked, "Feel better?"
She nodded, taking a breath and snapping out of it. "Yeah... though I think I scrubbed off a couple layers of skin getting all that makeup off."
She made her way towards the closet then, and Bucky carefully began to get up from the bed in order to move Adelaide to her crib. She squirmed once as he got to his feet, but then she resettled and didn't budge again. He left a kiss on her forehead after he had laid her down and put a thin, pink blanket over her, and when Bucky turned around, Summer had just dropped her robe to change into a lavender satin nightgown she'd pulled from a hanger.
She wasn't trying to be seductive or eye-catching at all - she was merely tired and trying to get into bed as quickly as possible. But for whatever reason, Bucky found it suddenly hard to breathe as he watched her gather up the nightgown in her hands before lifting it up to slip on over her head, naked aside from a little pair of pale pink underwear. He watched the slight arch of her back and the roll of her shoulders as she put the little nightgown on, and even though it hadn't been particularly long since the last time they'd slept together, he couldn't help the instant ache and slight despair he felt at her newly clothed state.
She turned around and jumped in surprise to find him not too far away, staring at her in a way that she was very familiar with. She smiled and then chuckled, "Oh my gosh, you scared me."
"Sorry," he replied quietly, walking closer to her. "Figured you wanted me to watch."
She smiled and closed her eyes as he closed the distance between them, putting a hand on her waist and nuzzling her cheek, getting a deep whiff of her newly washed hair. Almost immediately slumping against him in a hug, she groaned and muttered, "I'm so tired."
"I know," he said, kissing her on the corner of her lips before drawing away and leading her towards the bed. "Come on."
Muscles relaxing just at the sight of the bed, she let him walk her there and then slipped under the covers as he went to turn off the lights. Once they were off, he took off his shirt and tossed it at a laundry basket near the closet before climbing into bed next to Summer, both of them immediately reaching for each other. It was a well-rehearsed routine by then, and one that they both looked forward to greatly each night.
She laid her head on his right shoulder, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh as his metal hand slid cooly over her side and down towards her hip. She could have fallen asleep right then, but she loved their nights together as much as he did, so she willed herself to stay awake.
"You work tomorrow?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble in her ear.
She felt his lips graze her forehead as she replied, "Yep. Early, too."
He groaned with displeasure, drawing up the hem of her nightgown slightly as his cool fingers wandered up and down. "Damn it."
"I know. I just... want a day where I don't have to go anywhere... talk to anyone... work on anything... just... sleep until noon and do nothing all day."
"Sounds like what I do. Except for the sleeping thing," he replied, and Summer's eyes opened as she frowned.
She looked up at him, his eyes dark but as beautiful as ever in the dim light of the room, and she said, "You don't do nothing. You do a lot."
He shrugged and looked away, aimlessly towards the foot of the bed. "No I don't."
"But... you take care of the kids and... you even make them dinner sometimes. You clean up after them and keep them happy. I wouldn't be able to work and do what I do if I didn't have you."
His metal fingers withdrew slowly, dragging up her arm and eventually reaching her hand that was resting on the bare skin of his chest. They played absently and gently with her fingers as he shook his head slightly and muttered, "I don't want you to do what you do. I don't want you to have to work constantly and talk to the press and use your book money to pay for a fucking PR person to make me look better. Or give interviews where they're just trying to trip you up and make you look bad so they get ratings."
She looked at him in surprise, her drowsiness leaving her as she reached up and put her hand on his cheek, trying to draw him so that he'd look at her. "But I don't mind any of that."
"I do," he told her, making somewhat pained eye contact with her. "I'm supposed to..." He trailed off and shook his head, jaw clenching as he looked away again.
But she wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. "Supposed to what?"
A few long, silent moments passed before he finally replied, "I'm supposed to take care of you. And I'm not. I'm just... sitting here, dragging your name through the mud with me and being a fucking burden on everyone. Especially you."
She blinked in surprise. This was the first thing he'd ever said to her like that, and she hadn't seen it coming. "But... I mean, I've always worked. It never bothered you before."
"Because I worked too," he told her, looking her in the eyes again. "We've always been equals. And now we're not. I'm not... contributing to anything, I'm not... I'm not doing anything."
Summer sighed, knowing that he wasn't aware of what he was implying and also knowing that he didn't mean that particular implication. He wasn't saying that staying home and taking care of kids was nothing and worthless and not a real contribution. He was saying that for him, a man who had been raised ingrained with the belief that a husband's job was to take care of his family and provide for them, having to accept being sidelined and let Summer not only be the sole breadwinner but also fight his battles for him in the press was incredibly difficult.
She understood that. He wasn't resentful or insecure in the typical way that a man might be in such a situation. He was just extremely frustrated and he particularly loathed being a burden on anyone, especially Summer.
"Bucky," she said softly, shifting and propping herself up on her elbow so that she could be at his eye level. "I know how hard this is for you, and I know you're going crazy being stuck here in this tower 24/7. But you have to believe me - you're not a burden. We're one now, you know? I don't even think twice about doing all of this. I'm supposed to pick up the slack, just like you did when I had my accident and couldn't walk for months."
"That was different," he insisted. "That... it just happened to you. You didn't bring it on yourself."
"And you didn't bring any of this on yourself either," she replied sharply, not very tolerant of moments where he would try to blame himself for what he held no responsibility for. "But even if I had - say I had just jumped out in front of that car and let it hit me on purpose - would you not have taken care of me after?"
He furrowed his brows and immediately replied, "Of course I would have."
"Because you love me," she replied with a slight smile. "And that's why you're no burden to me. I love you."
He let out a long, soft breath, looking her in the eyes and bringing up his right hand to absently run through her hair, along her back. "It's just... this isn't easy for me. I need to stay busy, otherwise I just..."
"Think too much," she finished for him. "I know. I hate that you're stuck here. I hate that you can't work or even... go out and do your vigilante hobby a couple nights a week."
The longing in his eyes at her words made her heart ache. She couldn't imagine being in his shoes, feeling like he owed the world an enormous debt and wanting nothing more than to be able to go out and help people the only way he knew how, but being confined to the tower like a prisoner instead.
"But hey," she said gently, her hand back on his cheek as she nudged him to look at her again. "One day, this is all gonna be over. They're gonna declare you innocent and then you'll be free. We'll all be free again. And we can go out whenever we want... do whatever we want... get our own home again..."
His eyes were pained, like the thought of entertaining that kind of hope was just too difficult to bear. But she kept going, hushing him when he tried to stop her. "Maybe when it's over, we could take a vacation. A long one. Somewhere far away and warm and sunny. Maybe an island somewhere in the Caribbean, something like that. You can work on getting your color back," she smiled, her fingers gently tracing skin that was far too pale from being confined to buildings for too long. "I'd even let you pick out all my bikinis."
That got a smile out of him. It was small and his eyes were still a little sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Yeah?"
She nodded, glancing down at his lips as she grinned. "Yep. We can bring the kids with us, too. You and David can teach Addie how to swim. They'd be so cute playing on the beach together."
Bucky nodded, some of the darkness leaving his eyes as he replied, "We'd probably have to invite Steve and Nat along, too."
"We would?"
He nodded. "Somebody would need to watch the kids for us every once in awhile."
She grinned. "Every once in awhile?"
He shrugged innocently, both of his hands suddenly on her hips as he casually replied, "I always wondered what all the fuss was about with sex on the beach."
She wrinkled her nose and smiled, "See, it doesn't sound that great to me. You'd just get sand everywhere. And I mean everywhere."
"That's okay," he replied. "Just means I'd get to fuck you on the beach and then in the shower right after."
She giggled, unable to control the sound and not wanting to. Her little laugh made him grin, and she'd keep talking about this little fantasy beach vacation of theirs for as long as it took to chase away the dark in his eyes and his mind. "Hmm... yeah, I guess we would need a babysitter, then."
"Definitely."
"Or..." she trailed her fingers down his chest, "we could go for two weeks. First week could be just us. You, me, and a very private beach house. So private that I wouldn't have to wear anything to go out and work on my tan." The way that he grinned and briefly bit his lip told her that he was rather fond of that idea. "Then, the second week, Steve and Nat can come and bring the kids. It would be like a second honeymoon and our first big family vacation all in one."
"I like that," he replied, clearly very much liking it. "Second honeymoon, huh?"
Her grin matched his. "I mean, why not?"
"Do we get to have the blindfolds and restraints again?" Bucky asked, and the memory of the nights that he was referring to almost made her shiver a little bit.
"Oh for sure," she assured him as his metal hand gently shifted her leg to be between his.
"Maybe we could try something new, too?"
Teasingly grinding her thigh against him, she tilted her head slightly and asked, "Something new? What did you have in mind?"
"I don't know..." he said, pretending to contemplate the question as he pulled down one of the thin straps of her nightgown. "We could try anything."
His eyes were on her breasts, barely concealed by the low cut silk clinging to her body. She reached and took his chin in her hand, making him look up and make eye contact as she pointed out, "There's not a lot we haven't tried. Unless you're talking about that one thing I'll never do."
He chuckled. "No, I'm not talking about that."
"Good," she grinned with relief. "So then what is it?"
He stayed silent for a moment, then surprised her by rolling them over so that he was on top of her. He kept most of his weight off of her, though he ground his lower half softly against hers like he simply couldn't help it. Maybe he couldn't.
"Well," he began lowly, a twinkle of slight mischief in his blue eyes as he looked into her lighter ones, "see, ever since my birthday when you took that potion, I can't get the way you were out of my head."
She blushed. "Oh, you mean..."
"Confident... a little dominant... filthy-mouthed," he grinned, grinding a little more firmly for emphasis. It felt good, and she could feel how much he wanted her without having even kissed her or barely touched her yet.
"So you want me to take the potion again?" she asked, burying her fingers in his short hair and arching up towards him a little to make the too-faint contact between them deeper.
He shook his head. "Nah... I was thinking more like... I could just be your slave for a couple days. Maybe the whole week."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Mhmm," he confirmed, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers before looking into her eyes and adding, "I'd even wear a collar for you if you wanted."
Then he really kissed her, and she almost choked on her own sudden lack of air. Bucky... in a collar... being her servant for a week? Holy frick.
He kissed her deeply, making her head spin. She sucked in a deep breath when they broke apart, opening her eyes and asking him breathlessly, "Have you been reading like... um... Internet smut or something to pass the time lately?"
He shook his head, smiling at her question. "No."
"Then where did you get that idea?" she asked. "And... you wouldn't want me in a collar instead?" Her question was only natural, since he had always been the dominant one and she the all too willing submissive one. Aside from the night of his birthday, that is.
"It crossed my mind," he admitted. "And we could take turns if you wanted. But honestly I'd just love to see what you'd do with me."
She blushed harder and smiled a bit nervously, letting him remove her nightgown from her body as she registered his idea fully. Once the little satin thing was off, he cast it aside and then began softly kissing her neck, sending little sparks of pleasure down her spine. She closed her eyes and said, "I had no idea you had such a... submissive streak in you."
He raised his head and looked down at her with equal parts affection and heat. "Only with you, sweetheart."
She smiled and then brought him down for a kiss, moaning softly into his mouth when his right hand dragged languidly down her breast before lingering and cupping it, playing and making her hips squirm harder against his. She was far from tired now, wide awake and savoring his every touch and every kiss that they shared. It started out lazy, both of them taking their time, but they simply knew one another and what they liked too well. In only moments, he was panting against her neck and she was clawing at his pants, only to be thwarted by the sensation of his cool metal fingers slipping between her legs and into her underwear.
He didn't turn the vibration on just yet, and that was fine with her. She shivered from the cold at his first touches, and he watched her as she let out a long sigh of pleasure as he touched her just right. She was always impressed with him, with how he could use that hand so perfectly for such delicate things when he couldn't truly feel what he was doing, and it was also a great measure of the trust shared between them that he would touch her with it at all. They'd come so far from the days where he didn't even like her seeing the limb, let alone touching it.
He kissed her when he quickened the pace and she moaned, swallowing up her noises and then swiftly, without even breaking the rhythm of his fingers, hauled them both up so that he was sitting and she was on his lap. She clutched his shoulders and made a quiet noise of surprise at the change, smiling at him and then kissing him with deep enthusiasm as she rocked her hips against his hand. He liked that. A few seconds later he shifted his hand a little and then broke the kiss to tell her, "Ride my hand, baby."
He could still make her blush with just a handful of words, and she hoped that would never change. She quickly complied with his wishes, hands sliding up his neck and fingers settling in his hair as she took control of her pleasure. He watched her greedily until she dropped her forehead against his and admitted, "I love it when you tell me what to do."
"I know," he grinned. "Me too." It was true. He couldn't tell what he liked more, dominating her or letting her call the shots instead. All he knew was that he never wanted to be limited to just one. He was greedy like that.
"Keep talking," she all but begged, moving faster on his lap and breathing more heavily as she used his hand as she wished. "Please, Bucky."
He groaned and kissed her again. "I love it when you beg. You don't even know what it does to me." He drew away by just a few inches so he could look at her fully, straddling his lap and riding his left hand ever faster, her cheeks pink and flushed and eyes wild with desire when they weren't closed. He watched her move, watched her hips as they rocked and her breasts as they bounced lightly with each thrust, and he couldn't help but marvel, "God, Summer, I could watch you like this all day."
She smiled and pressed herself against him, pushing her breasts tight against his chest. "Yeah?"
"Fuck yeah," he grinned, and then they were kissing again, deep and wet and a little desperate. He needed attention for himself, but he was enjoying the show far too much think about his own needs just yet.
Then she broke the kiss, whining and moving with urgency as she neared that precipice. She needed more, so she half-gasped out in a low, needy tone, "More, Bucky, please."
He knew just what she needed. He kept his eyes fixed upon her and, with a careful shifting of his metal arm, ran the self-system check that made the limb lightly vibrate. Her yelp of a moan was instant, and in only seconds she was tensing and tightening and then letting go with a gasp and a moan that he muffled by pressing his mouth to hers and taking the sound for himself. She shook and trembled on the way up and the way down, breaking the kiss once it was over and sagging against him, her arms limp around him and eyes closed as she laid her head on his shoulder. He only pulled his hand away once all the little aftershocks were gone, and then he held her and kissed her hair sweetly as she panted and smiled.
Slowly, with sated eyes and pure contentedness etched on her pretty features, Summer lifted her head and smiled dreamily up at her husband just before laying a sweet kiss on his lips. Then she told him with a voice that sounded a bit drowsy again, "See? Nobody can take care of me like you can. I know you don't feel like it right now, but... you're really what's keeping me going."
His lips quirked up in a smile, and it was a real one that warmed Summer's heart from the inside out. It wasn't forced or faked for her sake, like so many of his smiles were as of late. She smiled back and kissed him gently, fully seated in his lap and well aware of how badly he needed her attention, but she wanted to make sure he knew one thing before anything else happened.
"I love you," she told him softly, holding his face with both hands and looking him in the eyes. "And you'll never be a burden on me. No matter how all of this ends up, no matter what happens... don't ever think for a minute that you're not the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Her eyes shone with tears threatening to build as she spoke those words, and the sight of that and the achingly sincere tone of her voice made his own eyes soften. She spared him the task of having to say anything back, kissing him again and this time with a greater, more telling intensity. She wanted to make him feel good now, to distract him and take him to their safe place that was always there as a refuge when they both needed it. Sex couldn't solve a single one of their problems, but it could remind him that he wasn't alone and that he had a woman who loved him in ways that he may never believe he deserved. And that made losing all the sleep in the world more than worth it.
At the first slide of her tongue against his, his self control splintered and he held her more tightly, more desperately, clinging to her and holding her so closely that it hurt a little. She didn't mind, letting him do what he pleased and kissing a hot trail along his neck when they broke for air the first time.
He moaned quietly, roughly, and his fingers flexed hard on her hips. There'd be more bruises tomorrow, yet again, and more disappointment on his part for letting himself get carried away. But he was simply far too desperate, grasping her hair next and half-whispering, half-growling, "Summer, I need... I need you, I... fuck..."
"I'm here," she assured him, gently leading him to lay down. She slid on top of him, kissing him and never letting her skin break contact with his. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Though relief clouded his eyes as she then kissed him and focused all of her energy and attention on him, Summer knew that her words might not always be true. He knew it too. They could be permanently separated in the very near future, and for all the interviews and press relations and lawyers in the world... there was only so much they could do to fight it. Their ultimate fate was not in their own hands, but it helped to pretend that it was and that a simple promise of never leaving each other's side could indeed be kept the way they wanted it to be.
The fight was far from over. It was just beginning, but they had to savor each little victory as it came and draw enough strength to face the next. And for them, after all that they had already faced, being together and in one another's arms for the night would always be a victory all on its own.
A/N: sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! I kind of wrote the chapter backwards and then had issues getting it all filled in and readable lol, but with the ever-indispensable help of midnightwings96, I finally got there today :D thank you guys so much for your feedback and lovely reviews and messages, you're all the best and I love you! Also thank you to those of you who read my newest little side story At Your Service :) I have no idea when I'll add more to it because I still have a LOT of other things I'm working on, but if you're reading this and you liked that story, I'm sure I'll add more eventually :) Also, I am literally posting this chapter from the grave because the Civil War teaser that we were graced with yesterday murdered me. I'm just... dead. Gone. Obliterated into a thousand tiny pieces of pure feels and that was just from less than a minute's worth of highly edited footage. Clearly, I'm never gonna survive this movie. But ANYWAY, I'd love to hear any thoughts you lovely readers might have, whether for the teaser or the chapter lol (or BOTH :D), and I'll try to get the next chapter out a little faster than this one. See you guys soon! *big giant hugs* :D