Dating Bucky Barnes Would Include…

AN: I can’t believe I haven’t done one of these for Bucky yet! Warning, this turned out to be more of a slow burn than I intended. Oops!

• For the majority of his life, Bucky Barnes has fought.
• When he wasn’t fighting, he was atoning for the sins that followed whatever battle he survived.
• Post-Snap, Bucky threw himself into making amends.
• Sometimes it would be doing small acts of kindness for strangers.
• Other times it was moving across the hall from a man whose life you played a part in making terrible.
• Balance was never his strong suit.
• Dr. Raynor was little help in his atonement as she was less of a therapist and more of a well of one-liners about Bucky’s social life.
• It was an easy mark though, as Bucky knew more ghosts than actual, living people.
• Perhaps that was why Dr. Raynor’s teasing hit him so hard.
• Perhaps that was why her comments on the topic lingered in his mind on the nights when his terrors were quiet.
• “Do you have any friends? What about Sam? Have you heard from him?”
• “You should try meeting someone, James.”
• “Did you speak to anyone new over the weekend?”
• Every time, Bucky would reply, “no, just Yori and the bartender.”
• “The bartender nice?”
• Every time, Bucky would shrug and say, “I dunno. I’ll find out next time.”
• Then, ‘next time’ would come and Bucky wouldn’t find out.
• It was like clockwork.
• Until it wasn’t.
• Until you.
• It’s during Bucky’s usual dinner and drink with Yori, when he least expects it.
• Izzy’s is a dive, a well-too-hidden gem covered in dust kicked up by those who lived in the city, walked the streets, called it home.
• That means that Izzy’s is typically empty, but if it is busy, it’s full of regulars.
• Leah, the bartender Bucky didn’t know was nice, was the only employee anyone seemed to see.
• So, when you shadowed her behind the bar, eyes wide and drinking how she made each concoction for Izzy’s patrons, you stuck out.
• That was why Bucky watched you at first, listened as Leah taught you the ropes.
• “Alright, so, show me how to make it.”
• “Like you just did?”
• “Yes, Y/N. Like I just did.”
• Bucky smiled then.
• He smiled at your clear nervousness, the sound of your voice, the first utterance of your name.
• Yori was talking about something, reciting some story that he already told
• and Bucky was half listening, his eyes flicking up from the counter top to you.
• Once, you locked eyes with him.
• You smiled and Bucky felt his own smile widen.
• That was before he lost his nerve and quickly looked away.
• He wanted to talk to you, but he got in his head about it; as he always did.
• Plus, your training finished and you walked out of Izzy’s with only one last glance in his direction.
• He must have imagined it.
• That’s what he told himself.
• It would be pointless anyway.
• What was the likelihood that he would see you again?
• Whenever he and Yori went to the bar, Leah was the tender.
• You would have a different shift, so he would never see you again.
• But then, he did.
• You were behind the bar, worriedly getting people their drinks as Bucky and Yori walked through the door.
• As soon as they sat down, your eyes met.
• An awe-struck silence fell over the two of you.
• Bucky isn’t one for believing in a higher power, not after all he’s seen and been through, but he wonders, at that moment, about fate.
• You wonder the same as the shared stare continues.
• Then Yori would break the spell and ask, “where’s Leah? Leah works on Wednesdays.”
• “I’m covering for her for a few weeks.”
• “You’re new,” Yori said before he glanced at Bucky with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
• “I am,” you laughed and followed the, seemingly, older man’s eyes to Bucky. “And you two are regulars, right? That’s what Leah told me.”
• “Yeah,” Bucky replied, putting on a nervous smile.
• He cursed himself for being so out of practice.
• He cursed himself for being so suddenly taken by you.
• Luckily, Yori could care less about Bucky’s ability to flirt with people.
• “You two should go on date.”
• Immediately, you and Bucky looked at Yori, chuckling warily before you glanced back at each other.
• “Yori, c’mon, that’s not,” Bucky shook his head.
• “We don’t even know each other’s names.”
• Well, Bucky did know yours, and that put you at a disadvantage.
• He didn’t like that, didn’t like that you didn’t know him.
• Before Yori could introduce Bucky to you himself, Bucky extended his right hand (his flesh hand) out to you.
• “I’m Bucky.”
• Your eyes flicked from his fingers to his eyes before you smiled.
• “Y/N,” you replied, taking his hand.
• “There you go. Now date,” Yori proclaimed, “life is short.”
• “Alright, easy now,” Bucky said when you dropped his hand. “I’m sure Y/N is a busy person, especially with this job.”
• Bucky gestured around to the near-empty bar as he spoke and, much to his surprise, you laughed.
• “Oh yes, so busy.”
• Yori waved a dismissive hand and went on to ask for a drink and some food for himself.
• Bucky watched quietly as you worked, pulling Yori’s favorite beer out and darting into the back kitchen to place his food order in.
• You were a worried whirlwind of energy and, every so often, as you filed in and out of the adjoining kitchen, you met his eyes.
• It took all Bucky had to focus on Yori and his complaining about the neighbors.
• When you interrupted to give them the food they had ordered, Bucky was overwhelmed with relief.
• He had an excuse to look at you then, to speak to you.
• “Thank you,” was all he could muster, along with a shy smile.
• The evening continued like that: a collection of small, stolen glances and the tension of Yori’s words between you.
• Bucky got lost in his thoughts, questioned whether you felt it too.
• Though, as always, Yori grounded him back to reality by the end of the night.
• Tipsy and unsteady, the old man stood from his stool and grumbled something about heading to bed.
• Bucky was helping Yori towards the door when he saw you again.
• You were wiping down a newly emptied table near the exit and you lifted your head, eyes meeting his.
• It took all Bucky had to explain, “I gotta get him back.”
• “Okay,” you said, the faintest of frowns on your lips. “You two have a goodnight.”
• “Yeah, you too.”
• Bucky quickly guided Yori out the door before the man could press a possible date any further
• That didn’t mean that Yori didn’t mention it on the walk home.
• “You should have asked.”
• “I’m not looking for…for that right now,” Bucky pressed, shaking his head.
• Yori shook his head too, but he was chuckling, a lot.
• With furrowed brows, Bucky watched him as he succumbed to an almost full-belly laugh.
• “Oh, you’re a young man,” Yori managed through his chuckle, “you know nothing.”
• Bucky huffed in amusement because he couldn’t deny that.
• Despite being a century old, Bucky Barnes had not truly lived.
• “You do not look for love,” Yori continued, “it finds you.”
• The old man’s words struck Bucky in the chest
• harder than any punch or shock or bullet ever had.
• He barely had time to recover before Yori continued, but with his focus shifted to the noisy neighbors once again.
• Bucky was glad for the distraction, though your smile lingered in the back of his mind as he helped Yori to his door.
• “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.”
• “I’m sure you do,” Bucky drawled disbelievingly.
• “You don’t,” Yori returned, opening the door this his apartment.
• “What?”
• Yori stopped at the entrance of his home and let out a long, heavy sigh.
• “That Y/N. You didn’t make a date.”
• “We’ve been over this. I didn’t but-“
• “What a shame.”
• “Yeah…a shame,” Bucky echoed, tension bleeding out from his body.
• There’s a long pause where the two men sit in the quiet, each one waiting for the other to say something else.
• Yet, they both thought better of it.
• “Goodnight,” Yori said, patting Bucky’s shoulder.
• Bucky held his breath at the touch, a flood of terrible, hazy memories flooding back and renewing his stress.
• In a rush, Bucky replied, “Night, Yori.”
• With a nod of acknowledgment, the old man disappeared within the dimness of his apartment.
• Bucky took a trembling breath before he turned towards his own door.
• His hand reached out to twist the knob, but the action stirred a feeling within him.
• A memory of a few hours before Bucky’s hand extending out towards you as you smiled at him.
• In turn, his hand falls back down to his side and he shakes his head as if to clear it.
• Bucky turned and started back down towards the entrance of the apartment complex.
• A walk would clear his head.
• At least he hoped that it would.
• Yet all Bucky got was rained on.
• A storm rolled in, bringing small, isolated showers with it.
• By the time he was nearby Izzy’s (one of the only places he knew how to get to), Bucky feared getting soaked.
• So, he tucked beneath the oning that hung outside the door to the bar.
• The thick, dark green fabric provided a little protection from the rain, and Bucky savored the fleeting feeling of safety it supplied.
• It lasted only a minute or so before the door to Izzy’s swung open
• and, of course, it had to be you that walked through.
• “You’re back!” You quickly recollected yourself, shaking your head. “I mean, you’re back.”
• “I’m back,” Bucky said, unable to keep himself from smiling at your presence.
• You were smiling too, before confusion furrowed your brow and forced your lips into a frown.
• “Everything alright? Yori okay?” You asked, concern dripping from your tone like the landed rain drops slipping off of the oning.
• “Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to…”
• When Bucky met your eyes, he realized he wanted you.
• But he couldn’t say that.
• He was out of practice when it came to flirting but that would be…creepy.
• “I wanted to apologize for him. He doesn’t have a filter sometimes.”
• You laugh and Bucky felt a heaviness, one he didn’t know he was carrying, lift.
• “It’s alright.”
• A small quiet fell over the two of you, with Bucky just looking at you and you looking at him.
• When you both realized that you were staring, you both chuckled and looked away.
• Your eyes drifted towards the road, the rain that gathered in puddles in the pavement; and Bucky watched as you extended your hand.
• With an open palm, you tested the frequency of the rain fall with a grace so akin to a fairytale that Bucky was winded.
• “You don’t happen to have an umbrella with you, do you?”
• Bucky heard your question, but he only managed to find himself and the words to reply when you turned your head to look at him again.
• “I-I don’t.”
• “You forgot it in your magic Mary Poppins bag?”
• The way you smiled made Bucky think it was a joke, but he had missed the punchline, the reference.
• When you saw that twinge of confusion in his smile, you frowned.
• “You don’t know Mary Poppins?”
• “And if I don’t?”
• Your lips quirked up once more into a wide smile.
• Bucky watched as you teeth sunk into your bottom lip, a thoughtful expression as your eyes flicked from him to the door of Izzy’s.
• “If you wanna come inside to escape the rain, I could explain the reference.”
• Then it was Bucky’s turn to put on a thoughtful expression; though, only for a moment because he almost immediately replied.
• “Yeah, sure.”
• “Great,” you returned and Bucky opened the door and went inside Izzy’s for the second time that day.
• Before you were both inside, you paused and met Bucky’s eyes again.
• “This isn’t a date, is it?”
• “Not unless you want it to be.”
• You never responded to that half-assed offer of a date and
• a strange sort of ritual started formed.
• On the days you worked and Bucky and Yori went to eat, Bucky would drop off Yori and come back.
• Bucky would feign ignorance, tell you that he spent time out of the States for work with family and missed a lot of American pop culture.
• You would tell him all you knew, explain movies he missed, recommend TV shows, books, music anything you thought he would like.
• “I’ve heard of One Direction.”
• “You have?”
• “They trend on that bird app every so often.”
• “You have Twitter?”
• “Not anymore. I never thought people posting text could be so loud….and annoying…and confusing.”
• Nights were spent just talking, exchanging stories.
• Though, of course, Bucky kept a majority of his tales close to his chest.
• In the vaguest of terms, he mentioned Steve, harrowing winters, traveling in the army, and even partaking in a ‘clinical trial’ headed by Russian scientists.
• He told you everything he could without giving himself away.
• He didn’t want to be the ghost of the Winter Soldier, not anymore.
• He just wanted to be Bucky Barnes to you, some guy you met at a bar because a sweet, but sour, old man told you both that you should date.
• There were a few times that he slipped back into a more combat-ready state.
• For instance, the night he almost told you everything, you didn’t greet him outside of the door to Izzy’s.
• He missed your smile at first, then his mind wandered to every terrible possibility.
• Quickly, he rushed inside the bar and scanned the establishment for you.
• You were neither sat that the table you usually shared with him
• nor anywhere in the seating section.
• You were still behind the bar, wearing a twisted expression as a man leaned over the counter and far too close to you.
• Your brow was furrowed in disgust, lips in a scowl, but your eyes were nervous, wary of the leaning man’s intentions.
• That was enough for Bucky.
• He stormed over and circled around the man so he could rest his left hand (his Vibranium hand) on the creep’s shoulder.
• “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but,” Bucky began, “you’re making the best bartender in the borough a little bit too uncomfortable.”
• The man turned and glared at Bucky, but said nothing.
• Bucky shook his head and added, “we can’t have that.”
• With a squeeze of his hand, metal fingers crushed into the meat of the man’s shoulder and he yelped.
• “Watch it,” he spat, trying to recover a facade of dignity after his somewhat embarrassing, high-pitched shout of pain.
• The man shifted his angry eyes from Bucky to you and then back again before he turned around and darted out of Izzy’s.
• “You’re the one that needs to watch it,” Bucky called after him.
• After he was sure that the man was gone, probably high-tailing it down the block, Bucky looked to you.
• There you were, your expression turning up into the smallest of smiles as you began to speak.
• “Best bartender in the borough?” You pressed a hand to your chest, “I’m honored.”
• “It’s the truth,” Bucky said, taking a seat on the barstool directly across from you.
• “Does the hero want a drink?”
• “I’m not a hero,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head.
• “You just exiled the bad guy,” you pointed out, gesturing towards the door.
• “I’ve exiled good guys too. Sometimes worse.”
• Your brow furrowed as you looked into Bucky’s eyes and asked, “but you don’t anymore?”
• Bucky huffed, in his own disbelief, and shook his head.
• “I try not to, yeah.”
• “Well, if you’re trying then I’d call you a hero,” you said, your expression exuding a warmth Bucky hadn’t felt in years. “Tonight, I’d call you myhero.”
• Right then and there, Bucky wanted to kiss you.
• Instead, he choked out, “so, you’re working an extra shift tonight?”
• “Leah’s running late. I’ll be off soon if you wanna hang out.”
• “Great, yeah.”
• Until Leah arrived, Bucky watched you work: pouring glasses of color drinks, popping open beer bottles, and shuttling food from the kitchen to the customer.
• When you were free, Bucky could tell you were exhausted.
• “Why don’t we skip tonight. You look beat.”
• You gave him an unamused smile, “thanks, Bucky.”
• “I didn’t mean it like that,” he explained in a rush, “just that-”
• “I’m just giving you shit,” you said with a wave of your hand.
• Bucky nodded quietly and you both started towards the door.
• He held it open for you and, as you passed through, you caught sight of the night sky and men across the street, loitering in a nervous way.
• Still in the doorway, you turned and looked up, into Bucky’s eyes.
• “Walk me home?”
• “Of course,” Bucky replied before he could really register what he was saying.
• He didn’t mind it, obviously.
• As you walked, you both talked about strange happenings.
• Bucky even mentioned therapy, as he dropped the newest bit of wisdom Dr. Raynor had provided him with.
• “So, she basically just told you to get a life?”
• “Basically,” Bucky agreed.
• “Therapy is great, it’s good you’re in it, but…she sounds awful!” You threw your arms in the air for emphasis and Bucky was awestruck by how the streetlamp light cast you, in that pose, under a yellow spotlight.
• “She kinda is,” he murmured, unable to entirely refocus himself.
• Before you could delve deeper into how awful Raynor was, you arrived at your front door.
• “This is me,” you said through a groan.
• “You don’t sound happy about that,” Bucky chuckled.
• “I feel bad that our night was wasted.”
• “Not wasted,” Bucky said softly, “we still hung out.”
• At his words, your disappointment metamorphized.
• Frown lines turned smile lines and eyes grew bright, hopeful.
• “Yeah, you’re right.”
• There was a pause then, with just the two of your staring at each other as the dark of night mingled with the sounds of the city.
• In the distance, music played and the fast tempo coaxed Bucky’s heart to pick up the same fast beat.
• “Well, I better-”
• “Yeah, you better head to bed.”
• You started up the steps but stopped when you were on the stair that put you exactly eye level with Bucky.
• Bucky was about to ask what was the matter when you leaned in and pressed the lightest of kisses to his cheek.
• It was so fast that Bucky swore he imagined it;
• but when you pulled away, eyes still bright and bottom lip tucked between your teeth, thinking, analyzing his reaction, Bucky knew he hadn’t.
• “Night, Bucky.”
• “Goodnight, Y/N.”
• Bucky lingered, made sure you got inside alright, and then started back down the street, towards his apartment, a little extra pep in his step.
• Your ritual of night talks continued, but there was no mention of the sweet kiss.
• Not that Bucky minded; though he did find himself lingering on you more and for longer as you talked about everything and anything.
• It continued like that for a while until Sam gave over the shield.
• That spent Bucky into a spiral and not even you could pull him out.
• He never missed a night talk but you could tell he was distant.
• Onthe night he told you everything, you asked about his awayness.
• “Are you okay? You’re quiet, but you’re normally not this quiet.”
• “Yea, I-” Bucky stopped when he met your gaze.
• He couldn’t lie to you. Not anymore.
• “I’m not okay,” he admitted, “there’s…there’s something I have to tell you.”
• “Alright,” you said, settling into your chair, “tell me.”
• “It’s actually a lot of somethings.”
• “I’m ready when you are.”
• Bucky took a moment, thought of you the night you kissed his cheek, and began to tell you his story in all of its gritty detail.
• There were points where you were silent (when he told you how old he really was), where you gasped (when he told you about falling off the train), where you smiled (when he recounted his friendship with Steve), where you almost cried (when he told you the truth of his ‘clinical trial’ with HYDRA).
• When he showed his arm, you reached across the table and took his hand.
• His breathing shuddered as you intertwined your flesh fingers with his metal ones.
• “Can you feel my hand?”
• “What?”
• “You said Vibranium is like a living metal, right? It can sense vibrations and absorb energy. Can you feel my hand?”
• Bucky’s brows furrowed, “I’ve never tried that before.”
• You studied him, your joined hands, quietly and Bucky took that opportunity to really focus.
• He wasn’t entirely sure of all the capabilities Shuri incorporated into his new arm.
• He knew the port the arm attached to was loosely connected to nerve endings to give him more control, but he didn’t know if that would allow him to feel.
• So, he closed his eyes and really tried.
• He wasn’t sure that he felt the warmth of your palm and the dull beating of your heart or if he just imagined it.
• “I feel something,” he said, eyes opening to meet your gaze, “but I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I really want to or…”
• He trailed off, lost in your eyes.
• “It’s something,” you comforted and gave his metal hand a soft squeeze.
• You held his hand as he continued to tell you everything.
• He told you about the most recent happening, with Sam and the shield.
• “Steve gave it to him.”
• “He has a reason for doing what he did,” you said, giving his hand another squeeze.
• “But that shield is…”
• “It’s part of your friend, but it’s not everything he left behind.”
• Something in your words stirred an old ache in Bucky’s chest, but he nodded.
• “Yeah, but I think,” he sighed, “I think I have to talk to him. Figure out what he’s doing.”
• “How long will talking to Sam take?”
• “I don’t know.”
• You nodded and pulled your hand from his as you said, “well, you owe me a night out when you get back.”
• “I’m okay with that,” Bucky said, and he felt every ounce of dread he carried with him ebb.
• Then Bucky goes off to find Sam, talk about the shield, they meet John Walker, the Flag Smashers, and….well, you know the rest.
• And if you don’t, Bucky is sure to tell you all about it when he returns.
• He’s a touch tanner than he was when you last saw him, and when he tells you about Sam’s home in Louisiana, he beams as much as the sun.
• “Sounds like you really liked it there.”
• “It was nice, nice to get away from the city,” he glanced around Izzy’s as he spoke, “but it’s better to be back here. Back with you.”
• You smiled bashfully and Bucky himself felt his face grow warm.
• “I’m glad you’re back,” you managed, shyness lacing your tone, making it feather-light.
• There’s a soft pause, where the two of you meet each other’s eyes then look away….before looking back again.
• Bucky surprises himself when he breaks the silence.
• “So, what do you want to do for that night out I owe you?”
• “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
• “As much as I missed this place, I don’t think we should go to Izzy’s.”
• You laughed and Bucky almost sighed with relief.
• He had missed the sound of your laughter.
• “Yeah, you’re right. Somewhere different….I don’t know where.”
• “How about I pick you up at your place tomorrow at five and you trust me to pick the place?”
• “Alright, but do you remember the way to my place?”
• “No,” Bucky said with a smile, “but if I walk you home again tonight, I’ll be able to remember it.”
• You laughed again and sighed, “that was smooth, Barnes. Very smooth.”
• After another hour or so of talking, Bucky walked you home.
• “Are there any places, besides Izzy’s, that you don’t want to go to?”
• “Umm, a funeral home, pet cemetery…”
• “Okay, okay, I get it. No spooky places.”
• You raised a hand and shook your head, “no, I’m cool with spooky, just not sad.”
• “Spooky, not sad,” Bucky echoed. “Noted.”
• By that point, you both reached your home and were lingering outside.
• Passersby glanced at the two of you, probably eyeing your closeness.
• You were so close that you could feel each other’s heat.
• “So, out here, tomorrow at seven?” You asked.
• “Yeah,” Bucky replied, “tomorrow at seven.”
• He watched as you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and let your eyes flicking across his face, thinking.
• Later, down the line, you would tell Bucky, that you were debating whether to kiss him that night.
• You ultimately decided against it and simply smiled at him.
• “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you said.
• “See ya then.”
• Bucky watched you go inside and started the long trek back to his apartment.
• When he got there, it felt emptier, not quite as homey as the Wilson’s place or how Bucky felt when he was with you.
• Though, he slept well that night.
• During the day, he was nervous.
• Not as nervous as he would have been prior to working alongside Sam, but still nervous.
• He was in his head again, but until seven at night when he saw you walk down the steps.
• You knew him, he had told you everything and you still wanted to waste time with him.
• Bucky smiled at the thought, at you as you strode up to him.
• “So, where are we headed?”
• “To the park,” Bucky said in a breath, still trying to collect himself.
• “The park,” you returned, your smile enduring.
• As you walked towards the park nearby your home, your arms would brush against Bucky’s, a tickling reminder that you were alone together.
• The park was lovely, framed by the sunset.
• Children giggled, clinging to playgrounds and soaring in swings.
• An elderly couple sat at a bench you and Bucky passed, all grey hair and joined hands.
• Eventually, Bucky led you to a patch that was decorated like a haunted landscape.
• Pumpkins, some carved some not, littered the grassy knoll
• Plastic facades of ghosts, ghouls, and haunted houses stood proud, some nearly as tall as Bucky.
• “Wow, you took the spooky thing to heart, huh?”
• “Y-Yeah, you like it?”
• You glanced around before you met his eyes and nodded.
• “I love it.”
• You and Bucky wandered through the maze of gourds and decorations, smiling, cracking jokes about Halloween costumes past.
• “I didn’t get to do much so I was an army man most years.”
• “Oddly fitting,” you teased.
• “What about you?”
• “There were a few DIY costumes over the years,” you admitted.
• Bucky’s face immediately brightened and he chuckled. “Oh really?”
• “Oh yes, and there’s photo evidence to support how terrible they could be,” you smiled and added, “I’ll show you sometime.”
• You both watched as children darted between plastic ghosts, trying to scare each other.
• Eventually, you and Bucky perched yourselves on an empty bench.
• Your shoulders were almost pressed together, your warmth mingling and wrapping around you both, banishing the crisp evening chill.
• “I haven’t been to the park in ages.”
• “Really?” Bucky asked, happy that you broke the silence that claimed you both.
• “I’ve been too busy, with work and just…life.”
• “So I was right when I told Yori that you were too busy for a date.”
• You chuckled and shook your head.
• “Except for now,” you said, turning your head to meet his eyes.
• Bucky couldn’t help the grin that spread along his lips.
• You smiled back at him.
• “This isn’t a date, is it?” Bucky asked, mimicking what you had asked the first time you spent the night talking to each other at Izzy’s.
• “Not unless you want it to be,” you returned, the same thing he told you back then.
• Bucky smiled and nudged his shoulder against yours.
• “I want it to be.”
• “I want it to be, too.”
• There was another stretch of quiet, though easier than the one before.
• You and Bucky stared at each other with all the softness in the world.
• Bucky’s face was relaxed, more than relaxed than you had ever seen him; his lips wore a lazy smile and his blue eyes were glinting under the light of the setting sun.
• That light further bathed him in a warm orange glow that made your stomach twist.
• Bucky was drinking in the look of you too, outlined in the green of the park and beautiful.
• “I also want to kiss you,” Bucky said, his voice tender, almost lost in the wind.
• “Then kiss me.”
• At your reply, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a fumbling rush.
• You didn’t care though, so neither did he.
• His hands reached to cup the sides of your face and held you with all the careful fervor he could muster.
• Your hands gripped at the front of his dark red shirt, pulling him impossibly close.
• While PDA might not be your favorite thing, you were so swept up by Bucky’s touch that you didn’t care.
• Bucky, who loves PDA, already didn’t care.
• When you pulled away (‘cause Bucky sure wasn’t going to be the first to do so), his lips were kiss-swollen and eyes half-lidded.
• “Should’ve done it sooner,” he murmured when he met your gaze.
• “Yeah, definitely.”
• After that first date, you and Bucky retained your three times a weeknight talks
• and a weekly outing on the weekends.
• He would check you out while you worked, make sure that people like that creepy guy wouldn’t come around to bother you.
• He would glare at anyone that even looked at you the wrong way.
• “You’re staring,” you said, passing him a bottle of beer.
• “Do you blame me?”
• You gave him a warning glance, but there was a smile on your face.
• When you ask why Yori doesn’t come around with him anymore, Bucky is honest with you.
• “But that wasn’t you.”
• “It was,” Bucky said, “my body still-”
• “I don’t care what your body has done, I care about what you do. And you care about people, Bucky, you try to help wherever you can. You love. That’s you. The man that killed his son wasn’t you.”
• Bucky wanted to kiss you, in the dingey corner of Izzy’s after your shift, but held back.
• On the walk home, he held back;
• but the second you were about to say goodbye, Bucky cupped your face and kissed you, hard.
• The force behind his lips was strong, but his touch was so mild that you melted into him.
• Your chests pressed together, heartbeats melded into one.
• He walked you backwards until your back knocked against the fence.
• You laughed as you nearly toppled entirely into Bucky and broke the kiss.
• You threw your arms over his shoulders as he rested his forehead against yours.
• “Sorry,” he murmured.
• “No, don’t be sorry,” you leaned up and snuck another kiss.
• Bucky pulled his forehead from yours and stared down at you.
• His fingers, with rough pads, traced along your cheek to your jaw and tilted your face up with such a softness that the rush before felt like a hazy memory.
• Just before your lips touched, you asked in a whisper, “come upstairs?”
• “Yes,” Bucky said just before he pressed his mouth to yours.
• The two of you were a stumbling, tangled mess getting to your room.
• Needless to say, even when you reached your bedroom, you both were still a stumbling, tangled mess.
• A softer mess, a more tender, pleasurablemess.
• That night began another ritual.
• Bucky would sleep over at your place a few times a week.
• Eventually, you dedicated a drawer to him, his clothes.
• Though, they weren’t always his clothes.
• “Where’s my red- doll.”
• “What?”
• “Are you wearing my shirt?”
• “Maybe,” you teasing, pulling at the long sleeves of a shirt that was definitely Bucky’s.
• You turned around to face him and he was, literally, shirtless, with his dog tags shining against his tanned chest.
• “I’d like it back.”
• “Come get it then.”
• Spending the night together wasn’t always teasing.
• Most of the time it was sharing movies, ordering takeout, talking, laughing.
• Basically, you catching Bucky up on pop culture.
• “Steve’s list mentions a Star Wars?”
• “It’s a movie series. You wanna watch it?”
• “How many movies are there?”
• “Ten, I think, eleven maybe.”
• “Ten! How many movies can someone make about the same characters?!”
• “You’d be surprised.”
• It’s after one these movies nights when it happens.
• You’re switching off the screen, ready to head to bed when you turn around and see Bucky still sat on the couch.
• His plaid pajama pants rode up a little, disturbing the hem of his tight grey shirt.
• It’s then you see the steady rise and fall of his chest grow a touch more rapid.
• “I love you.”
• His voice is low, gravelly but soft when he says it.
• You thought you misheard him at first and Bucky feared that he said it far too soon.
• When your pause extended, Bucky moved to sit up, to backtrack.
• But then, finally your face broke into a grin.
• “I love you too.”
• “Come ‘ere then,” he said, arms extended and reaching out to you.
• You walked towards him, felt his warm hand and cold hand grab your hips and pull you down into his lap.
• “I love you,” he said again, leaning up for a kiss.
• “I love you,” you echoed, meeting him in the middle.
• Leah makes jokes about how icky the honeymoon phase is.
• You agree, but you explain that you’ve never felt this way before
• and Bucky was first to admit that his encounters with love were limited.
• So, you both hold on to each other; become one another’s safe space.
• Once, Bucky mentioned a vacation.
• “Where to?”
• “Louisiana. You could meet Sam, go out on the boat, get out of the city.”
• “I’d like that.”
• When you do go eventually, you love it.
• The Wilsons welcomed you with open arms.
• “So you’re Y/N,” Sam greeted, “Buck won’t stop talkin’ about you.”
• “That’s saying a lot, because he hardly talks,” you said teasingly, squeezing Bucky’s hand.
• Sam laughed, “oh, I like you.”
• You and Bucky spend days on the docks, the beach, on the boat.
• One night, you were on the dock, watching the sunset.
• When you turned, Bucky was taking a swig of his beer, basking in the sun.
• “This place looks good on you.”
• Bucky turned and beamed at you, “really?”
• “Yeah,” you replied, reaching a hand out to brush through his hair.
• “It’s nice seeing you of the city, not busy. Relaxationlooks good on you.”
• You leaned in, as if to kiss him, but lingered just out of reach of his lips to say, “maybe we should stay a little longer.”
• “I wouldn’t mind that.”
• “I’ll call Leah,” you said, starting to move away.
• Bucky pulled you back, your chin pinched between his forefinger and thumb.
• “Tomorrow,” he murmured, “right now, you’re mine.”
• You were his, just as he was yours, for the next few days.
• Sadly, after another week in Louisiana, Bucky mentioned how Sam needs him back in action.
• “So, he’s stealing my boyfriend?”
• “More like borrowing me.”
• “When do you leave?”
• “After we get back to the city,” he replied, walking towards where you sat on the edge of the bed.
• You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and Bucky smiled.
• He kneeled down before you, between your legs, and reached up to pull your lip free.
• “What are you thinkin’ about, doll?”
• “I’mthinkin’we just shouldn’t go back.”
• Bucky head fell to the side, strength almost crippled by the sadness of your voice, and leaned up towards you.
• He didn’t have to say anything.
• He poured his agreement, that shared wish, into the kiss you shared.
• Not the last kiss.
• No, that would come far later.