Discover Top Posts Tagged with #soberlife

Don't Tell Steve

"Just please don’t tell Tony!” Bucky stares at you for a moment in disbelief. Of all the ways Bucky saw his evening going, catching Tony Stark’s daughter on the roof with a joint is probably the last thing he could’ve guessed, if he could’ve come up with the idea at all. He feels a smile creep across his face as he holds up his own contraband. “Don’t tell Steve?”

A companion piece to this fic but can be read on its own!

Princess Griffin's Masterlist here!

Read this fic on Ao3!

A/N: Remember when I said I was bad at one shots? Here's the proof. I got like two comments saying they'd read more of this and that was enough for me to write 11.1k words of follow up. This fic is 'Don't Tell Tony' from Bucky's POV. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

TW: recreational drug use, discussions of sobriety/alcoholism, cigarette smoking. If those are an issue for you, not hard feelings if you skip this one!

“So how have you been sleeping?”

“Fine.”

“Any nightmares?”

“No.”

“Uh huh. You sure?”

“Yes.”

Bucky tries to suppress an eye roll as Doctor Stevens makes more notes on the iPad in his hands.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Almost every session goes like this. The same five questions about how he’s adjusting to the modern world, the same five stilted answers that they both know are bullshit. Then sitting awkwardly for forty-five minutes until the court-mandated session is over and Bucky can go hide away in his room. It had been like this ever since his pardon.

“What about going out into the city? Have you had much of a chance to explore?” the doctor asks and Bucky sighs.

“Not really. Took the bike out for a few hours the other day, just by myself. It is kinda nice to drive around without a baby sitter.” Bucky answers gruffly.

He suppresses another eyeroll as Doctor Stevens smiles.

“That’s great!” he says, ignoring Bucky’s snide comment, “I’m glad you’re taking some control of your free time.”

Bucky just stares at him, then glances at the clock.

Only thirty-nine minutes left.

“What about Steve? Have the two of you gotten up to anything fun this week?”

“Listen Doc, I keep it simple. I work, I train, I eat, I sleep. Steve is there for most of it ‘cause we live together.” Bucky says gruffly.

Dr Stevens just frowns.

“I know Bucky and that’s where I’m concerned. That’s not what most people do. Most people have friends, they go out to the movies or restaurants. They talk to people.”

“And what exactly do I have to talk about to “most people” huh?” Bucky snaps, “The torture? The brain washing? The best way to get blood out of kevlar?”

“You could talk to them about how you feel. Try to connect with your team mates.” he says gently.

Bucky just scoffs.

“Well I feel like shit. I feel like everyone I know, everyone I ever cared about, except for one person, died fifty years ago. I feel like the world is loud and complicated, always in new and disappointing ways and I’m sick of all of it. So go ahead and type on your stupid little pad about that.” Bucky snaps.

Before Dr Stevens can reply, Bucky rises from the couch and storms out of the office.

He knows there’ll be consequences later, Steve will probably be sent to have a talk to him about his attitude and how these sessions are a part of his pardon but right now he just can’t bring himself to care. These sessions were grating on him. They made his skin feel too tight over his bones, made him want to claw and crawl out of his own flesh. No one would ever understand how he felt, not even Steve.

Steve went into the ice and came out of it a hero.

Bucky fell and kept falling for seventy years.

Making his way down to the garage, he grabs the keys to his bike and a plain black helmet from the shelf. The bike roars to life and Bucky peels out of the garage. He might not be able to go back, but at least this felt normal. He’d spent decades riding bikes for missions and they were some of the only times he’d felt in control of anything while working for Hydra.

The trees surrounding the complex blur together as Bucky races off the property and hits the open road. Something about being on the road with no objective was soothing. Bucky lost track of time as he followed the twists and turns of the road.

Eventually, he finds himself at a gas station.

Patting his leather jacket, he breathes a sigh of relief that he’d remembered his wallet. Propping the helmet on the handle bars, he left the bike parked round the side of the building and made his way into the station. It was empty save for a portly middle-aged man sitting on a stool behind the register with a newspaper. Bucky pretends to look at the shelves of unfamiliar sweets and snacks before making his way to the register.

“You sell Lucky Strikes here?” he asks.

“Lucky Strikes?” the man frowns as he folds up his paper, “Never heard of those.”

“Camels then?”

The man nods.

“Those I can getcha. You got ID?” Bucky snorts at that.

Even without being a centurion, he knows he looks old enough but still fishes out his wallet and the ID card issued to him after his pardon. The man looks at his card, then his face, then back at the card a few times before handing it back to him.

“Anything else?” the man asks and Bucky can already feel him closing off.

He just shakes his head and throws a few creased bills on the counter, not waiting for his change, just swiping the carton off the counter with his right hand and making his way back out to his bike.

He hated this.

The stares, the way people closed themselves off, the pity or disgust in their eyes. The modern world made his skin crawl and the people in it had already deemed him worthless. What could be worth knowing about them?

The ride back to the compound felt shorter than the ride out, maybe because he had a destination this time. He parked his bike in the garage and threw the helmet back on the shelf before making his way upstairs. Once on the residential floors, he’s walking through the halls when he overhears it.

“-lucky that Tony installed so many security cameras in that building or he might not have made it in time, poor girl.” Sam says, his voice grave.

“Well, we all know how Tony is about his surveillance, especially when it comes to her.” Nat says, taking a sip of coffee.

Bucky rounds the corner to see the two of them standing in the kitchen at the coffee maker.

“What happened to who?” he asks, the two of them turning to see him entering the kitchen.

“Y/N moved into the compound today,” Nat starts slowly, “Four men broke into her apartment today while she was getting ready for school and tried to kidnap her. Luckily they tripped a sensor in the stairwell and Tony was already in the city at the Tower. They were able to apprehend them but she’s pretty shaken up. Rogers is with her now helping her settle in.”

Bucky grimaces.

The discovery that Tony had a daughter had happened around the time of his pardon so he hadn’t really interacted with you much. You lived in some fancy apartment in the city a few blocks over from the Tower and he was pretty sure you were studying at the University there but he wasn’t sure which one or even what you were studying.

“Is she okay?” he hears himself asking.

Nat shrugs.

“As okay as she can be. Sounds like just some bruising. They roughed her up a bit but it seems like the plan was to ransom her.”

Bucky frowns.

The few times he’d met you, you’d seemed pleasant enough. You usually kept to yourself at the galas your father liked to throw, wall-flowering with Wanda. He knew you weren’t advertising your recently-discovered lineage. You hadn’t even changed your last name to “Stark” to avoid unnecessary attention. However it didn’t surprise him that the word about you was getting around. Tony Stark was too powerful with too many enemies to not draw any speculation about the girl with the same quick wit and crooked smile spending time with the Avengers.

Whatever his impression of you was, he knew you didn’t deserve being terrorized in your own home.

“Well, she’s moved in.” Steve announces, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

“Where’s she staying?” Sam asks, pouring out his mug into the sink before loading it into the dishwasher.

“Fourth floor on the west side over by Wanda. Figured that’d be more comfortable with her, given their friendship. I asked if she wanted any company but she said she wanted to be alone for a while so we’re gonna draw tomorrow morning instead.” Steve says, pulling out a carton of orange juice from the fridge, “She seems okay but she’s hard for me to read. Who knows what's going through her mind right now.”

“Probably ‘Oh shit I’ve gotta get up at the crack of dawn for Captain Morning Person’.” Nat says dryly, prompting a small huff of laughter from Steve.

Bucky decides this is the time to slink out of the room. If Steve isn’t gonna needle him about skipping out on his therapy session, he’s sure as hell not gonna stick around long enough to remind him.

His mind drifts back to the thought of you living at the compound now. He had no idea what you would be thinking, how you’d feel after something like that. After everything he’d been through he can’t remember the first time someone had tried to rough him up. Can’t remember a time where he hadn’t had the strength to fend someone off. Definitely before or during the war, and how long ago was that?

The thought of the war reminded him of the carton burning a hole in the inside pocket of his jacket. Bypassing the elevator, he heads to the stairwell and makes his way up to the roof. He pulls out the carton of cigarettes as he opens the door.

He’s surprised to see you bundled up in a blanket sitting on the edge of the roof with your head tilted back as you blow smoke up into the night air.

Without thinking, his mouth opens.

“You too?”

You spin around, sputtering and coughing and Bucky winces at having startled you.

“Jesus Barnes, warn a girl won’tcha?” you wheezed, and the site of you smacking your fist against your chest causes Bucky to smirk.

“Sorry Y/L/N, won’t happen again.” he says as he makes his way to sit next to you. You hold out a lighter and he smiles, peeling the plastic off his carton and shoving it into his pocket.

“What kind are those? They smell fuckin’ awful.” he says, lighting up and taking a drag.

“They’re...uh… not tobacco.” you mumble as you take back your lighter from his open hand.

Bucky’s brow furrows for a moment as you fidget, unable to look at him before blurting out:

“It’s pot, um...marijuana? Look I don’t really know what the attitude was towards it in the 40’s but um.. It’s a bit less of a big deal now? Just please don’t tell Tony!”

Bucky stares at you for a moment in disbelief.

Of all the ways Bucky saw his evening going, catching Tony Stark’s daughter on the roof with a joint is probably the last thing he could’ve guessed, if he could’ve come up with the idea at all. He feels a smile creep across his face as he holds up his own contraband.

“Don’t tell Steve?”

The smile he’s rewarded with is blinding.

He realizes he’s never really seen you smile like this before. The sight is foreign but beautiful and it catches him off guard.

The two of you sit together in comfortable silence for a while, just taking drags and blowing them away from the other person.

“Is this where you usually come to be a delinquent?” he asks and you laugh softly.

“I’ve never come up here before. Normally if I’m gonna do this I go for a walk but I just didn’t have the energy after today,” you say, putting the finished joint in a tin of mints that you pull from a fanny pack he hadn’t noticed under your blanket, “I don’t do it a lot, just sometimes when everything gets too overwhelming, I’d go out for a walk about the city or to the park near my place and have a joint.”

The mention of being overwhelmed tightens Bucky’s chest as he remembers why you’re sitting on the roof of the compound in the first place. He’s not sure what prompts him to, but he reaches out and gently puts a hand on your shoulder.

“I heard about today. I’m sorry that happened to you.” he says softly.

You look at him for a moment, and Bucky can see the moisture in your eyes as you sniff.

“Thanks Barnes.” you say, your smile more strained than before.

Not wanting to make you dwell on your problems, Bucky tries to change the subject.

“Well what do you normally do?” he asks, leaning back on his palms to mirror your position and looking out towards the tree line.

“Normally I’d bring headphones and listen to music for a while. I like to draw sometimes too. Steve and I like to sketch together in the mornings when we’re both here, so if I’ve got a piece going I’ll do the colour while I’m alone. Or I’ll grab some snacks and go for a picnic with a book. The forest areas here are actually pretty nice when the weather is good.” you say with a smile.

Bucky can picture it, you bundled up with a blanket of a book. He can see you sitting in a clearing in the woods with your homework and the image is nice. The kind of softness you deserve instead of the bullshit you dealt with today.

“That sounds nice.” he says honestly.

“You could come with me if you want?” you offer and Bucky turns to look at you biting your lip.

He’s not sure what it is about you, maybe the assuredness of your offer despite your obvious nerves that has him accepting the invitation.

“Okay.”

He’s rewarded with another smile as you wiggle around to get comfortable.

“Do you come up to smoke often?” you ask and Bucky shakes his head.

“Nah. Stevie hates it when I do it. I’d never smoked before the war, Steve’s lungs couldn’t handle being around the stuff and it was an extra expense I couldn’t worry about. Then when I got drafted, everyone else was doing it and it was one of the only stress relievers we had readily available at the time. It doesn’t really do anything for me now, but the taste of it… it brings back some memories. Memories of our friends.”

The thought of the Howling Commandos makes Bucky sit up straight before looking at his hands in his lap. One metal and one flesh. Hands that fought in the second world war. Hands that have murdered innocents.

“That’s really nice.” you say softly and Bucky looks over at you as you rush to explain.

“That’s nice that you can relive those memories. I mean, with your super soldier lungs it probably isn’t as terrible for you as it is for everyone else. Plus I really can’t judge now can I?” you joke and Bucky finds himself huffing a small laugh before he can help it.

“Yeah I guess. I never really thought about it to be honest.”

You giggle and something in his stomach flips at the sound.

“If we hang out when I smoke again, you’ll find I’m over-thinking everything and none of it will be very intelligent.” you say with a silly grin and Bucky finds himself wanting to hear it again.

“I wasn’t aware you had any intelligence," he teases with a smirk.

Your eyes widen in surprise before you let out a gasp of pretend outrage.

“Well that’s a mistake you won’t make again after this I assure you!” you cry out and Bucky laughs at your playfulness.

He’s not sure what it is, but something about you feels so warm. The two of you sit on the rooftop for a while longer and you ask him what he’s smoking.

“I asked the guy for Lucky Strikes but he’d never heard of them so I’m smoking Camels.” he says and you snort.

“Yeah I think Lucky Strikes went out of business ages ago.”

He thinks to himself that he should’ve realized that but he finds he’s just grateful you keep talking, keeping the conversation light. Eventually you start shivering despite the thick blanket wrapped around you and Bucky realizes it’s getting late. He stands and offers his hand to you, which you accept before he realizes he’d offered you his metal palm. The two of you make your way to the elevator and he finds himself pushing the button to the fourth floor and walking you over to your door.

As if you’re thinking the same thing has him, you turn to face him as you open the door to your new room.

“Don’t tell Tony?” you ask and Bucky finds himself grinning back.

“Don’t tell Steve.”

___________________________

If only he’d known how much those words would come to mean to the two of you over the coming weeks, maybe he would’ve tried to come up with something more clever.

It happens slowly, sneaking up on him before he can realize that the two of you are forming a routine. He’d make his way up to the roof after dinner, and not long after you’d find him up there sitting at the patio set Tony had bought a few years ago for a Fourth of July party. You didn’t always smoke, but you always came up with something warm to drink. He starts to associate the smell of tea leaves with you, looking for you any time he catches a whiff of them in the kitchen.

He had no idea you’d be so easy to be around, given all his friction with Tony.

You never pried too hard or made him think about things better left forgotten and you always had a joke or quip ready to brighten his day. You also never forced him to speak on anything and Bucky hadn’t realized how much he needed someone he could just sit in silence with. It was different than spending time with Steve, who used to be able to talk to him about anything. Time had made them grow apart and changed their relationship without Bucky’s permission. There were nights spent on the rooftop with you and less than one hundred words shared between the two of you in favour of the sounds of your pencils working in your notebooks and the flick of a lighter.

He noticed that true to your word, you didn’t smoke often but he appreciated that you always had a lighter ready for him when he forgot and a tin of altoids in the bag you wore slung around your chest.

Eventually, you didn’t need to pry any conversation out of him. He found himself waiting all day to meet you on the rooftop to complain about his most recent mission, to go off on whatever was bothering him about the modern world. You never looked at him with judgement, never pitied him. You just let him rant about whatever was frustrating him and offered words of agreement or support when he’d pause to take a breath.

Bucky started to crave your stories about school more than the cigarettes after the first four weeks, happily interrogating you about your classes, and to his delight you always entertained him. He wasn’t sure which night he started grabbing a blanket from the common room just to make sure you were warm enough. The only thought he’d had as he’d grabbed the green fleece was that you’d shivered too much the night before and if you came to meet him again he wouldn’t let you be as cold as he’d been before your rooftop rendezvous.

One night after he recounted a story about a particularly boring charity gala for Stark industries, he’d asked if you had a favourite drink and you’d shifted uncomfortably on the cushion next to him before admitting you were several years sober.

“I never had a big family. It was always just me and my Mom. I didn’t mean to, but I guess I became very bitter and angry with how unfair my life was. Then when she died it was like the final nail in the coffin. I left high school and fell in with a bad crowd for a while. I think that’s how Tony’s A.I was able to find me in the first place. Natasha just showed up one day at a friend’s apartment and took me. I was so high I couldn’t even grab her wrist to get her off me. Next thing I know I’m meeting Tony Stark and he’s my long lost Dad? I couldn’t believe it. It took a while for me to come around, but Tony is hands down one of the best things to ever happen to me. He understood the drinking and got me set up in a program so that I could work on it. Natasha helped me sort out my shit enough to apply for university and the next thing I know I have a big family of other misfits. It’s nice… having people that care about you. It makes me upset how much I took my Mom for granted in the end.” you said softly, and Bucky found the admission broke his heart.

You deserved the entire world, yet all he could do was hold your hand with his right and offer you the cigarette in his left. You’d thanked him and taken a drag before handing it back to him, blowing the smoke through the small smile on your face.

The look on your face as you told him about your Mom that night had stayed with him for two weeks before he found himself in the same melancholic mood you’d been in that night.

“I had a baby sister.” he whispered one night after a particularly rough therapy session, “I’m older… or I was older by four years. Becca used to wanna go everywhere with Stevie and I. When we were growing up, mostly in secondary school, it used to drive me absolutely nuts. Less so as I got older...God I miss Becca more than anything. Steve looked her up when he woke, but she passed sometime in the 90’s. She died thinking that I died during the war and that’s probably for the best, but I can’t help but be jealous that Steve at least got to see Peggy a few more times.”

He can’t help the bitterness then remorse that wells up in his chest at the thought.

He was glad Steve had gotten closure and got to say goodbye to the only dame that had caught his eye in all the time Bucky had known him. But a darker, uglier part of Bucky was angry. Angry that Steve had gotten to say goodbye and that Bucky hadn’t.

He didn’t register the tears welling up in his eyes until your warm, soft hands cupped his right fist.

“I’m sorry.” you’d said so softly as he sniffed, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I know it’s been said, but you deserved so much better Bucky Barnes. I’m so sorry for everything.”

The sincerity in your voice sends the tears rolling down his cheeks, much to his embarrassment.

Even through his blurry vision, he saw you rise from your seat next to him onto your knees. Slowly as if not to spook a wild animal, you brought your arms up around him and he found himself clinging to you as sobs wracked his body.

Rebecca had been everything to him and he hoped that wherever she was she knew that.

You ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him until the tears slowed and he caught his breath. You grabbed him a napkin from your bag and arranged the blanket to cover both of you as he pulled himself together.

Before he could apologize, you spoke gently.

“Tell me about your sister. What was she like?” you ask and Bucky feels himself smiling through the last of his tears.

“Becca was my baby sister…” he starts, scooting down on the couch to look up at the stars.

You let him talk for hours, asking polite questions about his life before and never rushing him. He’s in the middle of telling you about the time he lost a shoe playing baseball with the neighbour kids when he feels your head softly thump on his right shoulder. He looks down to see you breathing deeply against him, your mouth open and soft snores escaping.

He knows it’s wrong, that you might be embarrassed if you ever found out, but he can’t help but stare. The moon is full tonight, shining on the planes of your face which is calm in a way he hasn’t seen yet. He doesn’t know how long he sits there staring at you, soaking in your beauty as the stars twinkle. Eventually you shiver, burrowing your face further into his shoulder as a breeze tickles your cheeks and Bucky realizes it’s time to go in.

He bites his lip as he looks down at you.

He doesn’t want to wake you, knowing you’d had a stressful day at school today then sat through his crying for who knows how long. As gently as he can, he pulls you into him and slides his left arm under your legs. Thankfully, you don’t seem bothered at all. Instead you burrow your face into his collar and Bucky worries that the heat blooming across his cheeks and down his neck might wake you. He’s able to grab your bag with the hand supporting your knees and make his way through the compound, mercifully not bumping into anyone on the team as he makes his way to your room.

When he sets you down on your bed, you make a small noise of irritation as he pulls away from you that sets his cheeks ablaze yet again. He pulls your shoes off and leaves them by your nightstand and stares at you for another moment. He thinks he should feel like more of an intruder in your space, but he can’t help but take it all in. The prints on the wall that you bought last week with Wanda, the textbooks scattered across your desk, the potted plants on every surface of your room. He catalogs every detail about your space, unsure of when he’ll ever be allowed back into your room.

Not wanting to take your kindness for granted, he grabs a piece of paper off your desk and writes you a note, folding it and leaving it on your nightstand next to your alarm clock where he’s sure you’ll see it before slipping out of your room.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, causing Bucky to jump five feet in the air.

“Jesus Maximoff, you tryna kill me?” he barks, feeling embarrassed.

“Maybe, depends on what you’re doing in Y/N’s room.” she says with a sly grin.

Bucky groans.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He says trying to escape but the familiar hum of red power around his wrist doesn’t let him go so easily.

He could perhaps rip himself away but the hold on him is gentle, curious.

“It’s not nothing. You were in her room, late at night, presumably just the two of you…” Wanda pries and Bucky groans, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Look, it really is nothing. We were talking on the roof and she fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her so I carried her to her room, alright? Nothing weird happened I swear.” he says exasperatedly.

He can’t bring himself to turn and look at her, keeping his eyes trained on the elevator at the end of the hall, but despite that he can hear the grin on her face.

“Oh, is that all?” she says (anything but) innocently, “Alright then Barnes, have a good night.”

With that, he hears the soft paps of her slippers echo through the halls. He darts for the elevator and pushes the button rapidly, and just before he thinks he’s home free he hears her clear her throat.

“Just don’t let Tony find out!” she says in a teasing way and Bucky whirls around in time to watch her door close with a gentle ‘snick’.

Letting out a groan he slips into the elevator and smacks his head against the closing doors.

He is so screwed.

___________________________

It seems that despite her teasing, Wanda isn’t one to blab.

Bucky waits anxiously for a couple of weeks but Tony never comes to break down his door or throw him into the ocean with cement shoes, and he has to conclude that the witch is keeping her mouth shut. Bucky continues to have his regular meet ups with you, and they continue to be the highlight of his day.

He takes to sending you a question mark over text.

It starts one night during movie night after a particularly long day. You’d been complaining about a girl in your organic chemistry class at dinner, stating that you weren’t bothered by her childish behaviour despite being obviously bothered. The team is sitting around the common area watching some movie he couldn’t remember the name of when he texts you a question mark. He watches from the recliner across from you as you check your phone during the credits. You look up at him and he gestures with his head towards the elevator and that brilliant smile crosses your face as you nod. Ten minutes later Bucky finds himself under your favourite throw blanket and the stars while you sip your tea.

“I mean, seriously? How can someone who knows so little have so much to argue about? Like I know for a fact I scored higher than her on the last mid-term.” you groan.

“Maybe that’s why she’s so bitchy,” Bucky says, “You’re obviously smarter than her and it makes her feel small.”

Bucky turns to see your jaw dropped. There’s something in your eyes, raw and exposed that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“I- wow. Thank you Barnes.” you say, as if you can’t believe what you just heard and Bucky suddenly finds himself feeling very bashful at the look in your eyes.

Determined to stay casual, Bucky shrugs.

“Well, being smarter than an idiot still isn’t saying much about you so don’t get too excited.” he teases.

You let out a squeal of surprised laughter before picking up one of the outdoor cushions and hitting him over the head with it and he can’t help but laugh along with you. He pulls the pillow out of your grasp and throws it across the roof and can’t ignore the swell of pride that surges up in his chest as you continue laughing at the pillow soaring through the air. The rest of the evening, giggles periodically bubble out of you and he can tell it’s because you’re remembering what he said. He feels a strange and new satisfaction with himself, knowing it was his stupid joke that has you laughing throughout the night.

Even better is that you hadn’t smoked tonight. Not for the last couple of hang outs actually, meaning that your amusement with Bucky was totally sober and honest. Bucky thinks to himself that he’d say anything if it makes you smile the way you do when it’s just the two of you. That he’d do anything to make you laugh more often. He hadn’t realized how much he could crave a sound, hadn’t realized that in two short months you could come to mean so much to him. Everything about you seemed to catch him off guard. You’d wormed your way into his carefully guarded heart before he even realized you were there, and now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever live without you.

That night, for the first time, he’s disappointed when the two of you part ways at the elevator.

“Don’t tell Tony?” you ask, your eyes gleaming with merriment.

Bucky smiles softer this time. Still warm but less mischievous than when the two of you had started this running joke.

“Don’t tell Steve.”

___________________________

Bucky is pacing in his room.

Ever since his revelation last night, he knows what this feeling is and it’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Bucky Barnes cares about you.

More than a friend, more than a team mate, maybe more than he’s ever cared about anyone.

And he has no idea how to show it to you.

Even after all the nights the two of you spent together, he’s still second guessing everything he could do to show you how he feels. He knew what kind of tea you liked, knew that you preferred sour candies to sweet, knew that you preferred mayo to butter for grilled cheeses, but how did he translate that into action? How did he show you what you meant to him? As he paces an idea strikes.

“Friday?” he calls out.

“How can I help you Sergeant Barnes?” the robotic voice chimed from the ceiling.

“What’s the weather supposed to be like tonight?”

“64.4° Fahrenheit.” she answers.

“No rain right?”

“None sir. The weather is unseasonably chilly this evening but the sun has been shining all day. Is there something I can assist you with?” she asks and Bucky finds himself nodding despite the fact that there isn’t actually anyone looking at him.

“Do you know what kinds of sandwiches Y/N likes?”

“Of course. What did you have in mind?” she asks and Bucky can swear he hears the A.I smiling.

“I need you to order some food for me.” he says, rattling off an order for a few sandwiches, some cut vegetables, and a container of the fruits he knows you like.

“All ordered. Anything else I can help you with?” Friday asks and Bucky pauses.

“Do you know where I’d find a picnic basket?”

Eventually, Bucky finds himself with all the supplies he needs. He goes through the pile two more times, just to be sure that he has everything before carefully packing it all up and slipping into the stairwell. Paranoia sinks in as he checks over his shoulder every five minutes, making sure no one is following him as he slips out of the building and beyond the tree line the two of you had spent so many nights staring at. He finds himself wandering through the woods next to the compound until he comes across a clearing that’s perfect for his plan.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he texts you with his heart in his throat.

4:34pm Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Would you want to go for a 🚬 tonight?

Bucky feels a little ridiculous using the little digital picture in his message and just prays that you won’t find it strange. His brow furrows as he gets your response and realizes his name is wrong in your chat.

4:35pm Y/L Y/L/N sent a message: Did you seriously just use an emoji??? Y/L Y/L/N sent a message:I need to screen-shot this for historical purposes. 4:36pm Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Why is my name spelt wrong? How do I fix it? 4:39pm Y/N Y/L/N sent a message: It’s funny. It’s a nickname. 4:41pm Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Bucky IS a nickname. I don’t understand why I need another one. Also where is the arm emoji? I want to send it to Steve. Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Also also, you still haven’t answered my question. Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Are you free tonight?

He’s busy spreading the blanket out in the clearing when you respond, but your text still brings a smile to his lips.

4:43pm Y/N Y/L/N sent a message: I’m hanging out with Nat and Wanda rn, but I’m free later. Meet you on the roof at 10?

Trying to keep his hands steady, he types a response.

4:46pm Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Actually, I have a bit of a surprise for you. Bucket 🦾 sent a message: If that’s okay. Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Meet me in the lobby at 8?

When your thumbs up comes through he grins and pumps his fist to himself.

He quickly finishes the set up, making sure the food is tucked away safely in the cooler bag in the picnic basket and that the lantern he grabbed has fresh batteries. He folds up a blanket made of the same material as your favourite throw blanket and tucks it next to the basket before taking a step back to appraise his work. Once he sees it all laid out, he realizes he hadn’t packed anything to drink.

Doing his best to avoid being caught, he makes his way back to the compound and to the kitchen. He’s rooting through the cabinets, trying to find a thermos when Steve walks in.

“Hey Buck, whatcha up to?” he asks.

For an assassin, Bucky is caught dismally unaware and smacks his head on the shelf in surprise.

“Ah, dammit Rogers!” he curses, rubbing his head and pulling the thermos out of the cabinet.

“Sorry.” Steve laughs, “Didn’t think you wouldn’t hear me. You busy?”

Bucky grimaces at the question.

He’s still not one hundred percent sure how to talk to Steve about you. He’s not even sure you’ve told anyone about the two of you meeting up and he certainly doesn’t want to be the one to expose your rendezvous first. There’s something about them being secret, being just the two of yours, that makes Bucky ridiculously happy.

“Uh, sorry I am.” Bucky says, filling the kettle with water.

He keeps his back to Steve, just praying that he lets him go without too many questions because Bucky knows that his face will give him away to his (literally) oldest friend.

“Oh!” Steve says, surprise evident in his voice, “With what?”

“Nothing, just some stuff Dr Stevens asked me to work on.”

“That’s good!” Steve says, and Bucky can hear the grin plastered across his face, “Anything I can help you with?”

“Nah, just some exposure therapy. I was gonna take the bike into the city and check out a couple of shops. Doc thinks it’d be good for me to get out there, meet some regular people.” Bucky says, grabbing the tin of your favourite tea out of the pantry cupboard above the coffee station.

Technically it’s not a lie, Dr Stevens had wanted him to get out more.

“That’s great Buck, I’m proud of you! Wait, since when do you drink tea?” Steve asks, and Bucky tries not to wince.

“Uh, just thought I’d try it out.” Bucky lies, risking a glance at Steve who’s head is cocked in confusion.

“That’s an awful lot of tea just to try out.” he says and Bucky shrugs, forcing his face into an expression he hopes is nonchalant.

“What can I say? I like to commit. Y/N made it sound good.”

Steve stares at him for a moment before nodding and Bucky can tell he’s not buying it.

“Uh huh, sure. When did she say that?”

“The other night after dinner. You missed the movie.” Bucky says, gritting his teeth.

He should’ve known Steve would have some questions. The two of them stare at each other before Steve lets out a breath and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, drive safe I guess. You think you’ll be back for dinner?”

Bucky lets out a breath in relief.

“Probably not but I’ll text you if I’m gonna be longer than a couple hours.”

Steve nods before making his way out of the room.

“Hey Buck?” he says as Bucky roots through the cabinet for the sugar.

“Yeah?”

“Tell Y/N I say hi.” he says cheekily.

The comment has Bucky fumble the sugar jar, causing it to fall and shatter against the counter. He rubs a hand down his face as the white grains spill onto the floor at his shoes.

“Fuck.”

Once he gets the mess cleaned up, he slips back out to the clearing to plant the thermos then heads back to his room in the compound. He knows that the thermos will keep your tea just how you like it, and now begins the arduous process of choosing something to wear. Glancing at the clock, he notes he’s got about forty-five minutes before he’s supposed to be meeting you and the panic sets in.

He throws himself into the shower to clean up, not wanting to risk smelling like sweat. He wraps a towel around his waist and heads to his closet. He throws on a pair of boxer briefs then groans as he riffles through all his clothing, none of it looking good enough. He takes a deep breath, hands on his hips as he stares at all the offending clothing.

“This is ridiculous. Just pick something.” he mutters to himself.

He settles on a pair of jeans that Nat had helped him pick out a while ago and a plain black t-shirt. If he spends a minute flexing in the mirror to make sure that his arms are showcased enough, well that's his business and no one else's. He grabs his favourite leather jacket before stuffing his feet into a worn pair of boots.

He’s able to beat you to the lobby which is nice, but the minutes that tick by as he waits for you, his anxiety bubbling in his stomach is less so. Eventually the elevator dings and he takes a deep breath before turning to face you.

Even in an old sweater, you’re still the loveliest thing he’s ever seen and he’s relieved that you won’t be too cold outside.

(And if he catches the way you stare at his ass, he tries to keep his preening to a minimum.)

You seem excited to go for a walk with him but as the two of you approach the treeline Bucky’s nerves start to creep in again.

“Okay, listen… I need you to close your eyes and trust me for a sec.” Bucky says, trying to hide how clammy his right palm is getting.

The disbelief on your face almost has him ready to take his words back, but the smile you give him as you shut your eyes makes the way his heart stutters in his chest worth it. You shyly hold out your hand and the action sends his heart racing. He carefully guides you through the woods, making sure there’s nothing for you to trip on as he brings you to the clearing.

“Ok, we’re here.” he says, spinning you slightly so that you’re facing the picnic blanket.

You open your eyes and gasp, and Bucky watches anxiously as several emotions flicker across your face. Your jaw drops as you take a step forward and Bucky rubs the back of his neck as he starts rambling.

“I just thought you said you liked picnics so maybe it’d be nice to have one. It’ll be my first picnic in at least eighty years so you’ll have to show me the ropes.” Bucky says, hoping he hasn’t miscalculated.

You turn and look at him for a moment, then throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and Bucky has to remind himself how to breathe.

“This is probably the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, Bucky.” you say, your arms tightening around his neck and Bucky swears he’s ten feet tall.

He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you back, burying his face in your hair and allowing himself a deep inhale. He can feel a slight dampness to the edges of your hair, like you’d showered but tried to keep it dry. You smell like a mix of soap and perfume but something else that his super senses detect underneath it all, something that he knows is uniquely you.

Not wanting to risk you hearing his heart beat out of his chest, he sets you down gently and leads you over to the blanket. He can’t help but grin at your delight when he grabs the thermos from its spot tucked beside the picnic basket. He props the lantern on top of the basket once all the food is spread out in front of you and grabs out his carton of cigarettes when you reach for your bag. You light a joint for yourself and hand him a small purple lighter.

“Don’t tell Tony?” you ask, beaming at him in a way that almost has him fumbling the lighter.

“Don’t tell Steve.” He grins, cigarette trapped between his teeth.

The two of you sit smoking in comfortable silence for a few moments. These are the times Bucky lives for, unhurried moments with a beautiful girl that make him feel whole. Like he wasn’t broken and put back together over and over again for seven decades. Like he’s the man he used to be before the fall. Eventually you finish all you want of your joint, putting it out and laying down on the chenille pillow he’d picked for you because he knows that corduroy is a “bad fabric” for you.

He can’t help but look down at your relaxed face and droopy eyelids as he asks:

“What does being high feel like?”

You bite your lip for a moment and the action sends Bucky down a rabbit hole of what it would be like to do that himself as you explain the different kinds of marijuana to him.

“D’you wanna try some?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow and facing him.

He considers for a moment before responding.

“It wasn’t something I ever tried back in my day and to be honest I don’t think it’ll affect me now after the serum. But since hanging out with you I started looking into it more and I saw a lot of veterans have started using it for sleep…” he trails off.

His explanation is true, but he’s mostly just wondering what all the fuss is about, why it’s so much more taboo in society but drinking is so normalized. You root around in your bag for a moment before turning back to him and offering up a non-descript white tube.

“Here, you can try this if you want. This is an Indica joint a friend gave me as a gift. They’re a true wook stoner so it’s like, military grade weed. It’s not what I usually smoke so I haven’t tried it yet, but we can try it out and see if it does anything for you.” you say and Bucky takes the tube from you while wondering what the hell a wook is. He debates asking you as he opens the container and dumps a joint in his palm, longer than the ones you usually smoked.

“I don’t know if it’ll be strong enough for you, or if you’ll even feel the effects but if you wanna try it, have at it.” you say, and Bucky stares at it a moment before a smile creeps across his face. He feels a giddiness in his chest, the kind of excitement one feels when they’re doing something they know they probably shouldn’t. He takes the lighter resting on the blanket between the two of you, places the joint between his lips, ignites it, and promptly starts dying.

“Oh Jesus Christ Y/N, that’s fuckin’ awful!” Bucky wheezes, too busy coughing to be enchanted with your laughter.

“Try taking a little less, then some plain air and holding it in. You don’t smoke it the same way you smoke a cigarette.” you say through your laughter while pouring him a cup of tea.

He takes a large mouthful before returning to the joint. It’s a little easier this time, but your story of your first time smoking with your high school friends and ordering half the McDonalds value menu has him sputtering with laughter. He makes it about a third of the way through the joint before the effects of it catch up with him. He’s relaxed and his limbs feel heavy. Time seems to slow down but also his mind is going a mile a minute? It’s strange, but not unpleasant and he lets you put out the rest of the joint and tuck it back into your bag.

“Oh my god,” he says with a mouth full of croissant, “This sandwich is amazing!”

He’s not even embarrassed when you laugh at him as he polishes off the rest of the food, once he’s made sure you’ve gotten enough to eat of course. The two of you lay back against the pillows and he grabs the blanket, making sure you’re tucked in and warm. The sun had set and the two of you enjoy watching the stars come out without a word. It’s like so many other nights you’ve spent together, but also it’s totally different.

Here, in this clearing Bucky knows now.

He loves you.

He loves your laugh, your kindness, how brilliant you are. He loves the way you smile when you’re teasing him, the way you never push him for answers he doesn’t have, the way your nose crinkles while you study. He turns to look over at you, the way your lashes move as you blink, the way your eyes seem to shine in the star light.

Your eyes.

Shit you’ve caught him.

“I-uh I was just wondering if you were getting cold!” He stutters, turning his face back to the sky and trying to will away the blush he knows is creeping across his face.

“Sure you were. You’re so considerate Bucky, very sweet.” you coo and Bucky wishes the ground would just open up and swallow him, even though he knows he’ll cherish your words for the rest of his life.

“Just want you to be comfortable.” he mumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face to try and temper his embarrassment.

You just make a noise of agreement and he knows you're teasing him but it’s worth it. If it makes you happy to tease him, it’s worth any and all embarrassment. He keeps his eyes closed and his face towards the sky, just trying to soak in the moment. He hears your hair rustle against the pillow and can feel your eyes on him even with his closed. Taking a chance he wets his lips before speaking.

“Who’s staring now?”

“Shut up Barnes!” you say shrilly and he knows he’s caught you.

He’s unable to keep the smug grin off his face for the rest of the evening. Even when the two of you have to head back inside because it’s gotten too cold for you, his smile remains.

___________________________

Something changes after that night, and Bucky worries that he made a mistake.

You’d seemed so happy and he was so sure that he’d done a good job. He thought he’d created a sweet and sentimental gesture that you’d loved but now he was second guessing himself. You’d been so jumpy around him lately. He’d asked you up to the roof last night like always, but you hadn’t stayed more than fifteen minutes before claiming a headache (which Bucky knew was bullshit) and fleeing inside.

Had he misread the situation?

Maybe you weren’t interested in him, and this was your way of letting him down gently?

No, that couldn’t be it. You were many things but a fake wasn’t one of them. You’d been genuinely happy that night and Bucky had been so sure that you were interested. Even if you weren’t interested in him, even if you didn’t care about him the way he cared for you, the limbo of not knowing was unbearable. You’d barely been able to look him in the eye since the picnic and Bucky was crawling out of his skin.

“So Bucky, get up to anything fun this week?” Dr Stevens asks and Bucky scrubs his right hand down his face.

Bucky’s desperation must’ve reached new limits because before he knew it, he heard himself say:

“I think I might’ve messed up with someone.”

Dr Stevens just raised an eyebrow.

“With what? Did you break any of the three rules?”

“No nothing like that.” Bucky says with a groan before spilling his guts.

He tells him about going to the gas station three months ago after the session he walked out on, about finding you on the rooftop and striking up a conversation, about all the other rooftop conversations since. He tells him about the night you told him of your sobriety, the night he told you about his sister and brought you to your room, and about how he did his best to plan a surprise for you that he thought you’d like.

“I thought she liked the picnic, I thought it was the right move, but now… it’s like I have a disease. She can’t look me in the eye, doesn’t want to spend time together. I don’t know what I did wrong.” Bucky complains.

Dr Stevens just smiles and listens patiently, letting a moment of silence stretch between them to make sure Bucky is finished speaking before responding.

“Bucky, can I ask you something?”

“You’ve never asked permission before.” he says snidely, but nods when Dr Stevens just stares at him, “Yeah, of course you can, sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Dr Stevens says with a small chuckle, “What do you want to happen?”

Bucky frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you want to happen with Y/N? What would the perfect solution to this situation be for you?”

Bucky sits back on the couch and thinks for a moment.

What would be perfect for him? What does he want? what would his ideal resolution be?

“I just want to be with her, in any way she’ll let me. She doesn’t have to want me back, but it would help.” Bucky says gruffly.

Dr Stevens just smiles, like he knows something Bucky doesn’t and it’s maddening.

“Do you know how to find out if she wants to be with you?”

“Call up that sorcerer from Bleaker street?” Bucky says sarcastically.

“No.” Dr Stevens says with a laugh, “You have to ask her. I know you say you hate talking about your feelings, but it sounds like you’ve already opened up to her a tremendous amount. You’ve talked about your past, the things that scare you, things that bother you, the things you miss, and it sounds like she’s listened and supported you. At the very least, she cares about you enough to close her eyes and let you lead her through the woods. She trusts you. And if she trusts you, don’t you think she wants the two of you to continue having some kind of relationship? Maybe she doesn’t want what you want, maybe she doesn’t view you the way you view her, but the only way to know for sure is to ask her. Speaking frankly, it sounds like she likes you just as much as you like her and maybe it’s only just clicked for her after an incredibly romantic gesture.”

Bucky stares at the doctor, his mouth opening and closing.

Was it really so simple? Could you really return Bucky’s feelings?

“Don’t worry! I won’t report you for walking out on me again!” Dr Stevens calls out as Bucky stands abruptly and strides out of the room, laughter evident in his voice.

As he makes his way through the halls, Bucky pulls out his phone and sends you a message.

6:47pm Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Hey, you free to meet up in a bit? You seemed kinda off yesterday, just wanna make sure everything is okay.

Biting his lip, he watches the three little dots in your chat blip as you type out your response. His heart hammering in his chest the whole time.

6:50pm Y/L Y/L/N sent a message: Sure I could use a break. Meet on the roof at 7:30? 6:50pm Bucket 🦾 sent a message: Sounds good. Don’t forget a sweater. It’s cold.

Bucky looks at the clock on his phone and notes that he’s only got about forty minutes till then.

He quickly makes his way to the kitchen to prepare a thermos of tea for you (grateful that the kitchen is empty this time) before heading to his room. Wanting to feel his best, he changes into another pair of jeans that he’d bought the same time as the last pair, hoping that you’d not-so-sublty look at his legs again. He grabs a tight shirt that he knows does wonders for his muscles before grabbing his jacket. Making sure his cigarettes are tucked in the pocket, he grabs the thermos and the blanket from the picnic before making his way up to the roof.

He’s a little early but that’s fine by him. He rearranges the cushions on the outdoor couch twice. Once to try something new, and second time to put them back the way they were because honestly they’re just cushions and he’s totally over thinking this. He folds and refolds the blanket, moving the ashtray on the table so it’s just so, checks the thermos even though he knows there isn’t anything wrong with it before sitting down on the couch and drumming his fingers anxiously against his knees.

Eventually, he hears the door to the roof creak open and he can’t help but eagerly turn to see you walking towards him. A grin creeps across his face and his heart stutters in his chest at the shy but gorgeous smile you flash him.

“Hey there Buckaroo, how was your day?” you ask.

“Better now.” he answers in a way he hopes sounds casual as he gestures to the blanket, “Grabbed this just in case and there’s tea in the thermos for you.”

He can see you press your lips together into another sheepish smile as you make yourself comfortable.

“Thanks. You want some?” you ask, holding up your bag to him.

“Sure, no training till tomorrow evening. I’m hoping to sleep in.” he says, hoping his joke lands but honestly he’s too focused on the warmth of your leg pressed against his to think of anything cleverer.

“Here, we need to cheers lighters.” you say and Bucky quirks a brow.

“Cheers?” he asks.

You’ve never said that before and you nod.

“Yeah, here hold down the red part.” you say, handing him a lighter.

The look on your face as you fish another lighter out of your bag has him suppressing a smirk, but eventually you find the mini lighter from the night of the picnic and spark it next to his, igniting the gas for both lighters.

“See? Cheers!” you beam and Bucky can’t help but laugh at the pleased look on your face.

“Cheers Doll.”

He (unfortunately) still coughs way more than you when he smokes but the joint helps relax some of the nerves he’s feeling as the two of you recline back on the couch and look up at the stars starting to sparkle in the sky.

“You can see the stars way better here than from my old place in the city.” you say and Bucky finds himself nodding along.

“Yeah. I don’t know if it’s the nostalgia talking, but they were brighter when I was growing up. Less pollution back then.”

You hum softly in agreement.

“Probably. Do you miss it?”

Bucky thinks for a moment.

Sure, there are things from back then that he misses. His family is number one, not a day goes by that he doesn’t miss his Ma and Rebecca more than anything, but lately the ache in his chest had dulled. He knows that’s because he has you now, these quiet nights on the roof have started to mend together what used to be so broken.

“Some things, not everything though. I knew I would probably never see my Ma again when I shipped out for war, I’d already accepted it. When I first woke up I’d hoped to see Becca again, but now I think maybe it’s for the best that I died for her back then. She never had to see what they turned me into.”

His eyes are turned skyward but Bucky hears you make a distressed noise in the back of your throat.

“But you’re still you, Buck. Whatever they did to you, you came back from it. You’re still a good person.” you say and the thought of Bucky being a good person makes him laugh sardonically.

“You’re the only one besides Steve who thinks that, Doll.”

“That’s not true!” you insist, suddenly sitting up on your knees and Bucky looks over at the determination on your face, “The team can see it, even Tony can. You were forced to do things no one should ever have to do and you’re still kind. You’re still here, fighting to be better today than you were yesterday and that’s what matters. Not what they did to you when you had no control.”

“Please. No offense, but Tony just puts up with me for Steve.” Bucky says weakly.

“If that were true, and it’s not, he wouldn’t have bought you that motorcycle. Or used Stark Industries to lobby against the Sokovia Accords. He knows that what happened to his parents wasn’t your fault and if he didn’t forgive you then you wouldn’t be here at the compound, simple as that. You’d be hiding away in some remote corner of the world trying to not be found.” you say and Bucky finds himself caught off guard by the look in your eye.

A look that truly sees him in a way that’s almost too much to handle so he pivots like a coward.

“I always thought Steve bought the bike.”

“Bucky, it showed up with a red helmet with the blue eye from the ‘Manchurian Candidate’ poster. C’mon.” you say, mirth sparkling in your eyes and Bucky has to laugh at that.

“Look,” you say softly, “If you need the express forgiveness of a Stark, you’ve got it. I forgive you for what you did when your body wasn’t your own. I forgive you for what happened to my grandfather and I promise so does my Dad.”

Bucky just stares at you.

He truly can’t believe you. Can’t believe the way you see right through him, every part of him, and still can speak to him this way. The conviction with which you tell him that he’s still a good man, that you forgive him for the absolute unforgivable. His mind is racing and he almost regrets smoking that joint with you because all he can do is croak out:

“You’re really something, you know that?”

You smile shyly at the praise but you don’t back down.

“So are you.”

Suddenly he can’t take it anymore.

Slowly, making sure to give you time to back away or swat his hand and tell him off, he lifts his left hand to cup your jaw. Your eyes flutter for a moment, glancing down at his mouth as he moves towards you.

“Tell me I’m misreading this.” he says and you nuzzle into his metal palm.

“You aren’t.” you say and you lean in to close the gap.

It’s absolutely perfect.

Your lips are so soft and gentle against his. He can feel the chapstick you must’ve put on earlier, the warmth of your mouth. Every gentle sigh sends his heart racing, threatening to burst right out of his chest and he’d let it. He’d let you have anything you wanted in this moment. He can taste the smoke on your tongue from earlier, deciding it's the best thing he’s ever tasted. He can hear your pulse racing against the soft skin of your neck. When he groans, you shift against him and Bucky brings his arm up to wind around your waist to hold you even closer. He can’t let there be any distance between you now. Not when he’d willingly carve himself open and let you live in his chest cavity, right next to his heart that belongs to you.

He loses track of how long the two of you sit there under the stars learning each other’s mouths but eventually a more rational part of his brain takes over. He slows his kisses, thrilled at the slightly disappointed sound you make as he pulls away to kiss around your mouth, then the tip of your nose before he lightly runs the tip of his nose along yours.

“I wanna do this right. I wanna take you to dinner, maybe a walk in a park not crawling with agents, go to the movies, the works. You deserve someone who takes their time with you.” he says earnestly.

“Bucky you could ask me for anything and I’ll give it to you. We can take it as fast or slow as you want.” you say softly and your words make him want to cry at their sweetness as you press kisses to his cheeks.

“That’s supposed to be my line, Sweetheart. I’m tryna’ be a gentleman.”

“Well you don’t need to try that hard, just be my Bucky.”

The line is so cheesy and cute that he pulls away with a grin. Your face is beautifully flushed, your lips are swollen and Bucky swears he’s never seen something so beautiful.

“Your Bucky?” He asks, feeling cheeky and breathless all at once.

You flush under his gaze but nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Bucky feels himself melt at the earnestness in your voice.

“Okay Doll. As long as you’re mine too.”

The smile you grace him with then is more blinding than the sun. It’s brighter than a collapsing star and Bucky’s whole being is warmed by the light of you.

“I think I always have been, since that first time you caught me up here.” you say and Bucky’s heart threatens to give out all together as he grins at your words.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Unable to help himself, he leans in for another kiss and the two of you laugh into each other's mouths. He loses himself in the taste of your lips yet again before you break away with a giggle.

“Y’know what this means though…” you say with a waggle of your brows and Bucky furrows his, unsure why you’ve stopped kissing him.

“What is it, Doll?”

“We might have to tell Tony.”

With that, Bucky throws his head back and laughs.

“Sure sweetheart. We can tell him and Steve.”

A/N: If you made it to the end please leave a like or a comment for me! I would really appreciate the feedback. I hope you all have a wonderful day whenever you read this and that you find someone who makes your heart stop

#soberlife

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#soberlife