Chapter 7

Folded carefully on top of my shoulder bag is one of Steve's old flannel shirts. I don't know whether I should bring it to Sam's sister's place or not, which is where Bucky and I have decided to stay for at least a few days. On the one hand, I've been making a concerted effort to let Steve go a bit, to stop wallowing in my grief and I don't think wearing his shirt is a step forward in that respect. But on the other hand, it brings me so much comfort. It still smells like him, even after I've washed it a dozen times.

I frown down at the shirt, then end up shoving it to the bottom of my bag and zipping it up. I'm not quite ready to let Steve go yet.

I yank on my boots, haul my bag onto my shoulder and hurry downstairs to where Bucky is waiting. Things have been horribly stilted between us since last night…

"Are we going to be late?" I ask him, fiddling with the strap of my bag.

"We still got some time before we have to get to the airport." He avoids eye contact with me like he's avoiding the bloody plague.

I was going to suggest that we drive to Louisiana, make a road trip out of it. But spending that much time in a car together right now doesn't seem like a good idea.

In uncomfortable, tense silence, we stand there. I can still feel the ghost of his lips against mine, tearing me up inside.

My phone rings. Thank god.

I quickly answer it, turning away from Bucky and moving into the lounge room. "Hey, Daisy!"

"Hey, sorry I missed your call last night but I was asleep, like a normal person. Why were you calling me in the middle of the night exactly? Is everything ok?"

I glance over my shoulder at Bucky, still standing near the front door, and move further away, cupping the phone close to my ear and mouth.

"Not really, to be honest. I need some advice, real quick," I say in a hushed tone.

"Alright, what's going on?"

I pause, trying to think of a way to word my question. "I'm having a problem with controlling my powers," I say slowly. "When I get… flustered, it's like they overwhelm me and I have to remove myself from the situation or I feel like I'm going to accidentally time-jump."

"Well, our powers feed off our emotions. If you're intensely upset or angry, then your control can start to slip."

"What if it's not a negative emotion?"

"You said you felt flustered?" Daisy questions.

I clear my throat. "Yeah, flustered. Or… overwhelmed? But in a good way."

There's a pause and then Daisy laughs loudly. I cringe, momentarily pulling the phone away from my ear. "You tried to have sex with him, didn't you? You don't mean flustered, you mean turned on!" Daisy chuckles.

"Stop." My cheeks go warm. God, I hope Bucky can't hear this conversation. "That's not what happened… I couldn't even kiss him."

Daisy laughs again.

"This is serious!" I insist.

"Ok sorry, sorry. Look, strong emotions of any kind fuck with our control. The more you work yourself up and tell yourself that you're losing control, the more likely you are to accidentally time-jump. Be confident, take it slow, make sure you slow your breathing. If you start freaking out, that's when you're going to really lose control."

I breathe in deeply like I'm practicing. "Ok. I can do this."

"That's the spirit! Now go fuck him!"

"Daisy!" Twenty-first century humour is so crude. We say goodbye quickly and I hang up. Feeling jittery and uncomfortable in my own skin, I head back to Bucky. "Sorry," I apologise quietly.

My eyes glue to his throat as he swallows. "Daisy?" He asks and I nod.

Drawing together my fragmented courage, I say, "Bucky, about last night—"

"Let's go. We're going to be late to the airport." He is cold and out of reach, turning away from me and heading to the front door.

Hanging my head, I trudge after him.

~O~

The plane ride is unbearable.

We are cramped next to each other in small seats, tensing up every time our arms or knees brush. Bucky is usually such a safe person to be around, he makes me feel comforted and relaxed. But now I just feel on edge, like I've done something wrong, like our relationship is about to fall apart, teetering on the precipice of a very tall cliff. If I make a wrong move, we will fall down into the abyss below and lose one another.

In the rental car, driving through Louisiana and toward the dock where Sam and Sarah keep their boat, the silence kills me. But what can I say to ease it? That I can't control my powers, that they still terrify me and that, for whatever reason, being close to Bucky makes my grip on that tenuous control slip? I know what he'll say; that I should repress my powers again, lock them away. That'll fix it.

But locking away a part of me isn't the answer here. I won't sacrifice an important piece of myself to be with Bucky; I shouldn't have to.

Trees out the window bleed into a blur as we speed past them. I watch and watch until I get dizzy, thoughts racing through my head at a million miles an hour. The tension in this small car crushes my throat until my chest tightens and my lungs have trouble expanding. I am a balloon, pumped so full of air that I'm about to burst.

"Stop the car," I breathe and Bucky's head whips to look at me, one hand on the steering wheel.

"What?"

"Stop the car. Stop the car, now!"

He slams on the breaks and pulls onto the shoulder of the road. I jump out before we've even come to a complete stop, slamming the door behind me and gulping in fresh air like I was just underwater, drowning.

I hear the thud of his door closing as he exits the car behind me.

"Flo, what's wrong?" He asks, concerned.

"I'm sorry!" I burst, spinning on my heel to face him, my hair flying into my eyes momentarily. "I'm sorry that I pushed you away and hurt your feelings, I'm sorry I've not had the courage to kiss you before last night because I should have! There have been a hundred times where I wanted to kiss you and didn't because I was scared. I was scared of losing you, of driving you away, scared of rejection. But I'm not just scared, I think I'm angry too."

His jaw is tight, his eyes cautious and guarded. He stands like a soldier, back straight, still as can be.

"Steve left us," I finally say what I know we've both been thinking for a long time. "Steve abandoned us when we needed him most. He left us to mourn him. And I know I'm not supposed to be, but I'm mad about it! I'm angry! Aren't you?"

"Of course I am," he says lowly, so quiet that I barely hear. A car zooms past us, kicking up a pile of leaves. They flutter around us and fall to the ground. "I'm angry he left us, I'm upset at the pain it's caused you.… But saying that doesn't help the situation."

"It might! It might help if you were honest with me more often—"

"I was honest with you last night and you pushed me away," his voice cracks and with it, his stony facade. Emotion breaks through and he looks away from me when his eyes get glassy. "I promised Steve I'd do anything to protect you. But the truth is…The thing you need protecting from is me."

I feel my heart break in my chest and I shake my head vigorously, tears welling. I step up to him and reach out, cupping his face and turning him toward me. His cheeks are stubbly against my palms, but the hollows beneath his eyes are soft when I brush my thumbs over them.

"Bucky," I breathe. "James." Steadying myself, I lean forward and kiss the side of his mouth, my lips bursting with warmth. "You are not the villain in my story. You're the knight in shining armour, always." My words whisper against his skin. His hands carefully come up and rest on my waist, urging me closer to him.

"I didn't push you away because I didn't want you," I tell him quietly. "There hasn't been a day in my life where I haven't wanted you. But sometimes…I get overwhelmed and it makes it hard for me to control my powers."

He pauses, concern making his mouth twist down. "You felt like you were going to time-jump?"

I nod.

"Do you feel that now?"

A deep breath in and I repeat to myself; I'm in control, I'm in control.

I shake my head. "I'm alright." His hands slide around to the small of my back and he cradles me against him. My fingers move beneath his jaw and I feel the steady ticking of his pulse.

I'm in control.

I push onto my tip-toes and kiss him firmly, our tongues touching. We are tentative, cautious at first. But quickly the soft, light kisses aren't enough and we press together more firmly, our mouthes moving urgently. My stomach curls into itself and my head spins. I pull away, gasping and clutching his shoulders to ground myself.

"Are you alright?" He pants, controlled panic lighting his eyes. I nod quickly, squeezing his shoulders.

I'm in control.

"I'm ok."

And I am. More than ok, in fact. I feel the best I have in a long time, in his arms, warm and safe.

"I just think we need to… take this slow," I say mindfully. I don't want to disappoint him, but I also need to build up to anything more, still afraid of accidentally time-jumping and leaving him behind.

He pulls me flush against him, our noses bumping, hugging me with his strong arms. "As slow as you need."

Another car races past. The brown leaves go flying up in the air and, like a snowstorm, rain down on us. Grinning, I pluck one from Bucky's hair and twirl it between the pads of my fingers, brushing it along his nose. He wrinkles it, but doesn't move away and I let the leaf flutter to the ground.

"We should go," he says, although seems hesitant to let me go. I grip his head tight and press a rough kiss on his cheek.

"Come on, then. Sam's waiting for us to unexpectedly show up on his doorstep," I smile bright and Bucky's mouth ticks up a fraction.

Back in the car, I reach over and take his hand in mine.

~O~

Bucky and I offer to stay and help fix the boat, though I am sure to tell Sam that I'll only be good for moral support and coffee runs and not much else; mechanical work isn't my strong suit. Still, he is more than happy to have the company. I spend most of the day playing with Sarah's two sons, chasing them around the dock in an intense game of hide and seek. By the time we arrive back at Sarah's house, all blue wood-panels and white accenting, we're thoroughly exhausted.

After dinner, Sam and I clean the dishes side by side. He gives me a look, eyebrows raised, knowing smile. "So?" He says.

"So what?" I ask.

"Come on." He hands me a bowl to dry. I blink at him innocently, but a small smirk pulls at my lips. "You and Bucky?" He prompts. "What's going on there?"

I look down, still smiling. "I don't know. Nothing."

"Nothing, really? You gonna do me like that?"

I laugh. "No, it's just…it's new. We're still figuring it out."

"But it is something?"

"Yeah," I place the bowl onto the drying rack. "It's something."

He bumps his shoulder against mine softly. I can tell he's happy for us. "Steve wouldn't mind, you know? I think he'd just be happy that you two were alright and supporting each other," Sam says. I mull this over, fiddling with the tea towel in my hand.

"I hope so." Steve's approval means a lot to both me and Bucky. He's not here to give his opinion so the best we can do is guess at what he'd say, what he'd think. It's a futile, endless game; we'll never know for sure.

"You two gonna be alright sleeping down here? You can crash in my room and I can take the couch," Sam offers.

"Oh yeah and where would Buck sleep?"

Sam shrugs. "Outside, on the veranda."

I throw my head back and laugh, hitting him with the tea towel.

Later that night, lying on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around me and Bucky on the floor a foot below me, I stare up into the pitch blackness and listen to him breathe.

I don't think he's asleep, even though it's late and we're both tired. We've been lying here for so long that it feels wrong to break the peace, but the dark makes me bold. I reach a hand down and touch his shoulder lightly. It's too dark for me to see him, but I feel the cotton of his shirt. He reaches up and engulfs my hand with his own, holding it tightly. I let out a quiet breath that puffs into the air before me. I give his hand a light tug, encouraging him to come up onto the couch and he does, abandoning his makeshift bed on the floor and sliding on top of me. I arch up into him, his arms curling beneath me and his lips brushing my ear. We still haven't spoken a word, like none of this is real. Hell, maybe it's not. Maybe I'm dreaming this whole thing.

His metal fingers slip beneath my shirt and touch the skin of my back. I shiver.

No, this is real. No fantasy could make me feel this vividly.

Careful not to move too suddenly, I shift my hands beneath his shirt and feel the hardness of his stomach. He kisses my cheek, then my chin, then my throat, his teeth scraping along my skin and making me gasp and jolt. This is a new feeling for me; in the past, the boys I have been with have been largely underwhelming. This is the opposite. It overwhelms and sweeps me up like a tidal wave. My legs open and Bucky slots between them comfortably, pressing himself against me.

Aching and desperate, I seek out his mouth with my own, finding his jaw first and then finally his lips. When we kiss, we connect in an unspeakable way, slotting together and moving in harmony, every limb sliding together.

His hips press forward into mine and I gasp, shocked at how good it feels. But then the tell tale signs of an impending time-jump squeeze my insides and I yank back from Bucky, putting my hands to his shoulders. He stops, panting heavily and even in the dark, I can feel him looking down at me.

"Ok?" He asks quietly, breath puffing out across my cheek.

"I just need to breathe," I tell him. I think he nods, though I can't really see it, and he moves to squeeze in between the couch and my body, holding me. His metal arm whirs softly, the only sound to be heard other than our breathing.

I mean for us to take a short break and then continue, but with his warmth at my back and our fingers laced comfortably together, it isn't long before I fall into a deep sleep.

~O~

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait on this chapter, I got caught up binging Shadow and Bone oops. But anyway the finale of TFATWS was so great! I'll get writing the next chapter of this ASAP, I promise!

Any thoughts in a review would be so appreciated! Thank you very much to everyone who reads this.