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Some Like it Saucy

Summary: Cooped up in the compound while the team conference with Secretary ‘Toss-pot’ Ross, you decide to cook and decorate. What better way to fill the team’s hearts and bellies than a Marrakech-themed evening with Bucky’s favourite food - Moroccan tagine. He’s got other ideas for the perfect dessert though.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: Written for @buckybarnesbeans leap year challenge filling the dialog prompt: “Which one of you Bollocks thinks my chicken is dry? You? You?” (In bold). This is a Bucky/Reader fic using my Suncatcher reader character... yes the one whose power is rainbows XD Thank you @sassy-pelican for giving this a read to check for fuck-ups <3

Warnings: Bad language. Tiny bit of light smut / non-graphic smut. Light on reader insecurities towards the end.

The living areas of the compound were quiet and hollow; the whole team was gone and you were left alone. It felt eerie. Like the rest of the world had vanished and you were the sole inhabitant of a world once teeming with life. You shivered at the thought of such endless solitude.

There were remnants of their existence, of course. The alluring yet comforting smell of Bucky’s soap in your bathroom this morning, a half-drank mug of coffee on the common room table, a messily folded newspaper with a half-completed crossword puzzle, and an open packet of Tony’s favourite trail mix hidden in the magazine rack. It wasn’t like they had been snapped out of existence or anything, they were all at a conference with Secretary Ross.

Dickhead, you thought.

Ever since that mission in London where you picked up some amusing English insults that you later took pleasure in using on Secretary Ross, your absence at debriefings and conferences involving him had been, let’s say, strongly advised. Needless to say, Secretary Ross didn’t appreciate you calling him a wanker and telling him that he talked a load of bollocks.

It had been a fun mission though. The team had been brought in to help MI5 foil a plot to steal the crown jewels and reunite the nine pieces of the famous Cullinan diamond, which occult conspiracy theorists say was a stone of great power. Cullinan I, in particular, was an exquisite stone. Housed in the majestic sceptre with the cross, it had piqued your interest purely for its unusual refractive index; there was something about that stone, you could feel it with your powers as you pushed your influence through the security case to interact with the stone.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin and you shook yourself free of the memory. The eeriness of the compound seemed to have increased since invoking the feeling of the power of the stone but you cast it aside as best you could, latching on to the annoyance you felt that Secretary Ross was robbing you of a lazy morning in bed with Bucky. Tosser!

Boredom made your bones itch. You needed to do something other than going back to your room to masturbate until everyone came back, so you decided to cook dinner. Moroccan chicken tagine. It was one of Bucky’s favourite meals, and since everyone was suffering the presence of Secretary Toss-pot, you figured they deserved a reward.

Delicious smells of savoury meat, fragrant spices and sweet apricots filled the kitchen as the team emerged from the elevator. You were finishing up by adding a handful of chopped coriander leaves to the tagine, humming a tune while you worked, when strong arms snaked around your waist and a beardy kiss pressed against your temple. You’d know the feel and smell of Bucky anywhere.

“Hey, baby!” You smiled and pressed back against him. “How is Secretary Tosser?”

“You didn’t miss anything good.” He chuckled in your ear, smooching down your neck only to pinch your skin between his teeth playfully. You adored that you were both still very much in love after years of being together. “He finally fired that P.A. who wrote that you called him a wanker into the meeting transcript that time.”

“No!” You gasped. That woman was a legend in her own right. “That’s fucking terrible -oooo! I hate that man!”

“Relax, Rainbow Brite,” Tony appeared beside you, “I hired her this afternoon so she’ll take notes for all of our meetings with Ross when he’s here.” He beamed, lifting the lid of your tagine and groaning with pleasure as the steam rose. “That smells amazing.”

“Thanks boss.” You grinned, feeling the fuzzy warmth of his praise and the dark satisfaction that Ross wouldn’t be able to bully that poor P.A. anymore.

“You made this? Should I be worried?” Tony feigned horror. “Barnes is still alive so your cooking can’t be all that bad-oof!” He grunted as you flapped the back of your hand into his gut, hard.

“Stark!” You growled in warning.

“Okayyy, good talk.” He bolted with a cheeky grimace.

Bucky held you tight to his chest so you couldn’t give chase and assault Tony with your wooden spoon. “Easy, tiger.” He turned you in his embrace and pressed a needy kiss to your lips, knowing just how to calm your fiery temper.

The team came together for dinner and you all sat on floor cushions around a low table to eat. You had enlisted the help of Vision to create your Marrakech themed night and you had both outdone yourselves. Cannibalising one of the conference rooms had been a stroke of genius and, in your opinion, it was a far better use for the room than boring meetings. The dim glow of the ornate iron lanterns and the holographic fire courtesy of FRIDAY, the makeshift marquee made from brightly coloured fabrics, the smell from the food you’d made, and the soft but authentic music made you feel like you’d stepped through a portal into a souk lounge in the heart of Morocco.

“Next time, let’s not invite the others.” Bucky murmured in your ear as he leaned in to give you a kiss after you had all settled and began to eat. “I want you,” his voice husky with need, “right here on these cushions.”

You swallowed hard, looking around to see if anyone had caught his words, excited by his brazen proposition. Chatter and laughter continued around you, oblivious to your rising blush.

“Naked and wrapped in colourful silks.” His lips brushed the tender skin below your ear and you shivered, setting a short-lived prismatic display of your power against the fabrics hanging around the group. You felt his smirk, he was doing this on purpose. “Satin skin under my hands, hot and needy as I love you so painfully slow.”

“Bucky…” You sighed wantonly as the imagery overtook you.

You could almost feel him stroking his hands up your legs as they parted for him, silk kissing your skin as he bared your body to the air. Goosebumps despite the warmth of a real fire, and the golden glow mirroring the fire in his eyes. Each gasp. Each sigh. They were percussion to the music he played with your body. Sweat-slicked skin adhering you two together as hips rolled and pleasure filled you to bursting. His hands, both firm and gentle, exploring and worshiping you like you were Aphrodite herself. Never truly allowing you to come down from the heights he drove you to, never relenting his most devoted worship, not even when the names of other gods spilled from your lips and you cried out in ecstasy so loud you could split the sky.

“Miss Sun?” The words feel foreign; soft but still plenty sharp to snap you back to reality.

You’d eaten with the team, smiled at them when they’d thanked you for making a wonderful dinner, and had been clearing away dishes in a complete daze. Across the kitchen, Bucky smirked at you from where he was piling plates into the dishwasher. That little shit knew exactly what he’d done.

“Miss Sun?” Vision looked concerned as he laid a hand gently on your shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m good.” You mentally shook yourself, making a mental note to torment Bucky later. “I’m aaaalll good.”

Vision nodded curtly, pausing a moment before he addressed the reason he’d approached you in the first place.

“I’ve taken the liberty of suggesting an amendment for your tagine recipe, to increase the sauce to meat ratio while leaving the delicate balance of flavours intact.”

“Why? What’s wrong with my recipe?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He smiled warmly. “A comment was made that more sauce would have been welcome.”

“More sauce, huh?” You slid your tray of crockery onto the nearest counter and picked up a tray of baked spiced orange pastries and mint sugared pineapple pieces. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

When you delivered dessert and settled on your cushion next to Bucky, he squeezed your thigh reassuringly as the chatter quietened while the team tucked into the delicious moist pastries. He was about to tell you he was proud of you for not allowing your irritation to flare but he didn’t get the chance. He knew you were insecure, underneath the foul mouth and the bravado was a girl who needed reassurance that she was more than just good enough.

“So…” You cocked your head as the eyes of the whole team fell on you. “Which one of you bollocks thinks my chicken is dry?” You pointed your spoon around the table starting at Sam. “You?” He was always the first to talk shit, even if it was just a joke. “You?” Natasha fell under your gaze.

“No one said it was dry, sweetie.” She smiled kindly, seeing your outburst for what it was – you really needed to know you’d done a good job. You’d felt useless being stuck at the compound while the rest of the team had meet and greets with officials. No matter how boring they really were, you felt left out. You’d had Vision for company but he didn’t share your feelings. “I just said I’d kill for more of that awesome sauce and Vision, being the pragmatic type, figured he’d save lives and help you update the recipe.”

You huffed a little but relaxed as Bucky laid his arm across your shoulder. “You know she likes things a bit saucy, babe.” He chuckled.

“She’s not the only one.” You whispered and elbowed him in the ribs playfully, earning a wink from him. “Earlier you said something about silk and sex, and I expect you to deliver.”

Bucky was up on his feet immediately, pulling you up and slinging you over his shoulder while you squealed in protest. “If you’ll excuse us,” he addressed the room, “we have a recipe to discuss.”

“Sounds like a recipe for buns in the oven.” Sam scoffed around a mouthful of pineapple.

“Don’t tempt fate.” Nat scolded. “They haven’t multiplied yet.”

Bucky snagged one of the silks that made up the make-shift marquee and waved the red and orange material like a flag as he carried you giggling from conference room Marrakech. He was a man of his word and you could expect nothing but exquisite adoration. Your skin tingled with anticipation. The silk. His hands. His lips and tongue. You moaned lustfully.

As the door of your room closed firmly and you were laid gently on your bed, the love in his eyes engulfed you whole.

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