The apartment was warm and toasty; it was dead winter in New York and most of the time during this part of the year, you could be found on the couch, reading a novel. This time it it was A Brief History of Time and it was enthralling, much so that you hadn't heard the front door open and shut. Or the sound of boots begrudgingly being taking off down the hall, pushed aside as heavy feet embarked into the cozy living room.
Bucky moved slowly to the couch; eyes following your dangled feet off the arm rest to where the front cover of Stephen Hawking's most popular book covered your face; a face he was dying to look at. It had been another tough day on the job with Sam - the two were getting along just fine, but the constant never ending dead ends or worse, leads, was wearing him down mentally.
"Hey."
The book flew from your hand and you stared up at Bucky, hand on your chest. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me."
He laughed. "Nice to see you too - I see you've been reading again."
You reached down for where the book landed on the floor next to the couch and palced it on the coffee table. "Yeah, I'm just reading. Not like I'm reading about the concept of the universe and time."
The sarcasm came quick, but benign and Bucky walked around to sit down. He lifted your legs and scooted under them, and maneuvered his body between the couch and your body. He was a large man, but he managed to get comfortable, resting his head on your chest. His nose dug into the soft area under your breast and he groaned.
You smiled and ran a hand through his hair, asking if he had a tough day.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"That's fine," you whispered, relaxing your body under the weight of his. He turned his head to rest his cheek on your chest, and you reached your right arm to his back. He sighed as your hand rubbed up and down, feeling his muscle relax with each stroke.
"I can make us some dinner," you proposed and he nodded, but wouldn't move.
"I just need a few minutes right here..."
Your inability to say no to Bucky, because you loved him and wanted him to feel better, had you resting your head against the arm rest; the two of you laid quietly as Bucky's mind started to unwind and he started to feel like himself again. A guy who felt like he owed the world a whole lot, who was constantly navigating a new way of life and adjusting to the new person he was...
A guy who could come home from a rough day at work to to his girl., who was waiting with open arms.
"I love you," he murmured, eyes heavy with sudden exhaustion.
Caressing his head, you smiled. "I love you too, James.'"
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