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At least the blood dripping from the lacerations on his hand was warm.
Bucky was certain that the rest of him was fairly warm as well, the serum in his veins hardly struggling against the snow crunching under his feet and the icy flakes thrown with abandon against his face by the chill wind. But his entire being felt numb as he marched through the growing blizzard, stormy eyes never really leaving the fragile bundle in his arms.
He could feel his blood dampening her hip, slowing as it spread down her side. Life dancing from his veins, an offering to pull her along with him. He’d gladly continue to bleed if it warmed her even a little, if it could coerce the blue from her lips and calm the shivers wracking through her body. But he doubted the serum would allow his bleeding to go on much longer.
“C’mon, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, doll.”
His only answer was the howl of the wind whipping across his face.
“Why doesn’t Hydra pick someplace tropical for their bases?”
Across the conference table, Bucky snorted. You flashed him a grin, leaning forward on your elbows, goaded further into tormenting Steve.
“I’m serious,” you continued. “Literally every base Bucky and I have picked off has been somewhere with a shit-ton of snow. I’m already dreading the twelve-mile trudge.”
Steve paused his shuffling of what you had no doubt was yet another frigid assignment. “Twelve-mile trudge?” he sighed.
You leaned forward even further, palms pressing into the table. “Well of course the high and mighty Captain America wouldn’t know about the twelve-mile trudge. That’s just for lowly B-list Avengers like Buck and me,” you mused in mock annoyance.
Steve glanced at his friend, but Bucky’s only response was to throw his hands up in lazy defense.
“Are you gonna tell me what it is, or are you just going to continue to pontificate over there?”
“Can’t I do both?”
Steve rolled his eyes.
“Well, Cap,” you continued, “the twelve-mile trudge is the lovely little walk we all get to take after missions without extraction. The minimum twelve-mile adventure after we’ve kicked ass and nearly killed ourselves saving lives, to find our safe house. Which never has a heating system or, more importantly, any good snacks.”
“More importantly?” Bucky interjected.
“Shut up and support me.” Bucky rolled his eyes and offered a sarcastic thumbs up. “Every base Buck and I have taken out in the last three months has had us wading through snow to get to our safe house. I petition we go save somebody in Bermuda next,” you finished with a teasing grin.
Steve chuckled. “Your petition has been noted. But for now you B-list Avengers” -- you gasped in mock offense -- “will be sticking with your wintry escapades. So pack a scarf for that twelve-mile trudge. Which, by the way, is not a good name for it. Or at least not a correct one. SHIELD protocol requires a minimum 19-kilometer radius from any known unfriendlies for safe house setup. So maybe you should come up with a more accurate moniker.”
“Nah,” you dismissed. “My alliteration is cuter.”
“Oh, of course,” Steve nodded with eyes narrowed, clearly mocking. “Well, you stick with that, but please note that your safe house for extraction is 22.6 kilometers from the Hydra base,” he warned as he passed you and Bucky your mission briefs, “so your trudge will be just over 14 miles.”
“Oh, joy,” you snipped, flicking the folder open.
“Standard operation. You’ve done half a dozen of these together already. Download whatever intel you can find, then blow the place to hell. I’m not expecting--”
“Pardon me, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interjected, “but you are needed in Mr. Stark’s lab. Agent Romanoff just returned with some time-sensitive information. Dr. Banner would like your eyes on it immediately.”
“Copy that, FRIDAY,” Steve said to the ceiling. You stifled a laugh, watching him address the AI as if she were a physical presence. You turned to Bucky to see if he shared your amusement, but he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Eyes shifting, half-chewed fingernails picking at the dry skin on his bottom lip.
Damn it. Not again.
Steve turned back to you and Bucky. “I’ll leave you two to go over the mission briefs together. Let me know if you have questions. Wheels up for the quinjet tomorrow at 0600 hours. Sam will drop you over the base. Now if you’ll both excuse me.” Steve quickly made his way out, and with him he seemed to pull the air right out of the room.
Bucky continued to fidget across the table, clearly reading the same page in the mission brief over and over again. Mere moments ago, he’d been teasing right along with you, and now it was as though he were trying to hide from you. His tactics might have worked better if you weren’t the only ones in the room.
You stifled a sigh. If this had been the first time this had happened, you might have chalked it up to pre-mission jitters, or maybe residual discomfort at a subordinate showing disrespect to her superior officer left over from his time in the military. But lately the easy rhythm the two of you used to share was reserved for the dance of combat, any other interactions reduced to something closer to stepping on each other’s toes. That is, if he didn’t flee the dance altogether.
You found yourself zoning out, completely incapable of absorbing any of the information printed on the pages in front of you.
If he has a problem with me he should just say so. How are we supposed to keep working together if he won’t even look at me?
You flipped the page, mentally apologizing to the poor SHIELD agent who had compiled this beautifully thorough brief you weren’t even reading.
Bucky flipped one too.
What did I do? What changed? Should I ask him? Should I wait for him to speak up? Did I offend him somehow?
Bucky picked at his lip, drawing blood from a small crack in the center. His tongue darted out to sweep across it, and yours followed suit on your own chapped lip. You flinched back, having to physically pull your stare from him.
You idiot. And you’re wondering why he’s so uncomfortable around you?
“Hey if I--”
“Do you want coffee with me?” Bucky blurted so violently his words seem to knock your folder to the floor.
“Umm...what?
“I mean... sorry, I--would you maybe, sometime... want to... please... get coffee with me?” he finally managed, unable to meet your eye.
The only sound for a moment was the air conditioning whirring.
Without warning, you burst out laughing. A flash of hurt painted across Bucky’s face as he sunk further into his chair and you quickly realized your mistake.
“No! I mean, yes, of course I want to get coffee with you! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... Buck, I was so worried you were upset with me for something and you just wanted to... ask me out? God, why were you so nervous? Did you think I would say no?”
A small, slightly embarrassed smile crept back onto Bucky’s face. “I mean, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t know if you’d want to deal with... all of this.”
You snorted. “James Buchanan Barnes, you are a catch. And you did ruin what we had. For like three weeks when you pretended not to know me every time we were alone together.”
He huffed. “You’re intimidating, doll! It took me a while to work up the nerve.”
You blushed at the nickname; it wasn't the first time you’d gotten it, but it meant more given the circumstances. “Well, I’m glad I have my best friend back. And when we’re back from this God-awful snowy hellscape, it’s a date.”
“You got it, doll.”
“Maybe a trip to Bermuda, too.”
His laugh filled the room. God, you’d be content if it was the last thing you ever heard. “Sure, Y/N.”
By the time Bucky reached the door of the safe house, Y/N wasn’t shaking anymore. He knew that wasn’t a good thing.
The door was opened and closed again in a heartbeat. The room surveyed in another.
He was a hurricane tangled around the front room, drawing its contents to the center, a nest of blankets and firewood and pillows and anything that might be of any use deposited around his eye of the storm: Y/N, laid unmoving across the sagging couch.
A sharp contrast to Bucky, who was the storm itself, his movements not stopping for a breath.
He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t ever stop.
Start the fire. Move the couch closer. Collect the blankets. Check the exits. Find water. Do something do something do anything at all.
Just don’t stop to breathe. Don't stop to think.
Because if he stopped to think he would stop breathing too. And how would he save her then?
The fire crackled in the hearth, a slight pop as one of the logs split, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t even remember having gotten the fire started.
Bucky scrubbed a hand down over his face. You’re not focused, Barnes. You’re a soldier. Y/N needs that right now. She needs you to compartmentalize and actually save her life, not just freak the fuck out over her. If you keep this up, you’re gonna miss something.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, exhaled heavily, then allowed himself to look at the mess he’d already made of their little safe house.
Behind him: the fire was going. A pile of logs stacked nearby. A good start.
On the half-step up to the kitchen: a case of water bottles lying on its side, a couple of them leaking onto the hardwood floor. Clearly he’d gotten side-tracked as he’d brought them in.
At the edge of the hallway to the bedroom: a small heap of blankets he’d dragged off the beds, halfway to where they were really needed. The rug upended from the couch being dragged across it.
And in the center of the mess, Y/N. Chest rising almost imperceptibly. One arm hanging limply off the side of the couch, drops of water from her thawing tac suit dripping steadily off her fingertips.
And what had Bucky done to warm her up so far?
Placed a throw pillow on her chest. Apparently somewhere in his little hurricane, he’d thought “I should cover her up” and the best he could do in his absent-minded state was a fucking pillow.
He grit his teeth as he strode towards her. You fucking idiot, Barnes. This is what happens when your emotions take over. You have to fucking disassociate to not lose it and then all you can manage is shit like this.
The pillow was quickly replaced with the blanket off the back of the couch. He knew it wasn’t enough. He could almost hear Sam’s voice in the back of his head telling him what he needed to do. But could he cross that line with her? Would she ever forgive him?
He pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her throat, and before he could even feel the assurance of her heartbeat, her breath hitched at the pressure. His eyes fell to her lips. Blue.
“Raspberries aren’t blue.”
“Well, these ones are.”
“Y/N, that doesn’t even--”
“Bucky, I don’t care what fucking color they are. Try the damn popsicle.”
“Why, so I can turn my entire mouth that color like you?”
“That’s half the fun.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Shut up, you love it.”
Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.
Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.
He took one more look at the pile of two measly blankets by the hallway.
Fuck.
“Please forgive me, doll,” he muttered as he fumbled with the buckles on the front of his suit. The damp leather squeaked as he peeled it off and dropped it heavily to the floor. Faster, Barnes.
Boots toed off. Belt and pants and soaked-through thermal layers adding to the mess.
And then, left only in his boxers and undershirt, Bucky froze, his shaking fingers gripping the back of the shirt neck. He knew the shirt had to come off. It was soaked through, and in this state she needed as much direct body heat as he could offer. But Y/N had never seen the mess of tissue that was his left shoulder. If she woke up, and God... God, he prayed she would.
He bit down on the side of his tongue. This is what she needs, Barnes. And when this scares her away you’ll at least have saved her life. That’s all that matters.
The shirt joined the rest of the hurricane. He wished his metal arm could, too. Wished he could discard anything that tore him away from the eye of the storm.
Bucky kneeled next to the couch and lifted the blanket off of her. His fingers rested hesitantly on the zipper at the base of her throat. Who are you to touch her? He bit his tongue. Just do it, Barnes. You know it has to happen.
The zipper stopped about halfway down, teeth locked together by ice. He tugged a bit harder, but all he managed to do was jostle her entire torso. Cursing, he turned and dug through his pile of clothes until he found a small knife.
He flipped it into his left hand, stretched the material away from her as much as he could, and began to cut it away, using his right hand as a barrier. With every brush of his fingertips against her icy skin, his heart sank a bit further.
Four incisions in the material from her sternum to the end of each limb. The damp fabric curled away from her, leaving behind a sea of goosebumps. He eased her up gently, first her torso, then her legs, slid the ruined suit out from under her, and discarded it on the floor.
Bucky brushed his fingers experimentally on the strap of her sports bra, the waistband of her spandex shorts. Both soaked through.
The shorts went first. At least she still had underwear on underneath them. He was sure they were wet, too, but there was no way in hell he could bring himself to do away with those.
Before he could doubt himself any further, he slit the sports bra down the front and at the straps, laying the blanket back over her chest before he removed any of the pieces.
He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. That was the hardest part.
Bullshit. The hardest part was what he knew he needed to do next.
He scooped up the blankets, wrapping one around his shoulders and placing the other next to Y/N.
This is literal proof, Barnes. What more could you have asked for? He climbed over her to lay on his side, his back pressed to the back of the couch.
It’s not a threat. It’s going to save her life. He rolled her gently to her side to face him, her back to the roaring fire.
His ma always used to tell him to be careful what he prayed for.
“If you pray for patience, God isn’t going to just make you more patient. He’s gonna give you opportunities to be patient.”
He slid the blanket between them down to wrap around her feet. Tucked the one he'd left behind her around her back and shoulders.
Had he prayed for this? Prayed to learn what it felt like to make contact with another person and not drown in the hurt that they brought. Prayed to learn not to flinch away from the glancing touch of friend and foe alike. Prayed to be less broken, to let someone prove that he was real, and whole, or at least whole enough.
Did he even pray at all anymore? Or had they too long seemed to fall only on deaf ears?
It was all he could do to suppress the alarms going off in his brain, jarring enough that he had to pause for a moment. Fists tensed, eyes squeezed shut, breaths forced out through his nose. Proof, he chided. Proof that it doesn’t always have to be…
He pulled her into him, pressed his bare chest to hers. Wrapped his arms of flesh and metal around her.
...pain.
She gave a low, broken moan, her nose like ice nuzzling into his neck.
“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” He exhaled shakily.
Every inch of her skin was ice. No, snow. Soft, not sharp. This isn’t pain, Barnes. He wished there was more of him to give. To wrap around her and drive the cold away.
Slowly, gingerly, he eased himself closer, all the while grounding himself in the lack of pain being visited upon him. He tucked her arms into her chest, the backs of her forearms pressed flat against his stomach. He tangled his legs with hers.
Bucky settled his arms around her back, pulling her as tightly to him as he could. And then he allowed himself one kiss to the crown of her head.
“Bermuda next time, okay?” he sighed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bucky roared to no one in particular.
“Buck, calm down.”
“Calm down?” he asked incredulously, a wild look in his eyes as he scrabbled at the thick glass pane between you. The glass that had descended between you without warning, sealing you both in opposite sides of the room.
You pressed your hand against the glass opposite his. “Bucky,” you said gently, “panicking isn’t going to do us any good. My way out is locked. Why don’t you go out yours and come around to meet--”
“I’m not leaving you until I know what’s going on.”
“Okay. So then we’re stuck in here for a moment. Let’s figure out what we can and go from--”
“You should listen to your little girlfriend, Soldat,” a snide voice called over the loudspeaker. “Panicking won’t do you any good.”
Bucky’s eyes went wide. You knew instantly he knew that voice, and nothing good would come with it.
“Of course,” the voice continued, “there’s nothing that would really do you any good at this point. Did you really think we’d allow you to pick off our bases one by one without consequence?”
You chewed on your lip, deciding Bucky seeing you confident was worth any retribution that came from some sarcasm. “I don’t know,” you crowed. “The first six went down pretty easily.”
A low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine crackled through both sides of the room. “Lovely Y/N. Unfortunately for you, your only use to me is to remind our dear little Soldat who he is meant to be. He’ll be rejoining us. Where he belongs.”
“Fuck you,” you hissed. Your eyes locked on Bucky’s. You wished you could calm the terror in them.
The voice ignored you. “You see, Y/N. I have a little problem, and I think you can help me.”
You opened your mouth in protest, but before you could speak, he snapped. “Interrupt me again,” he hissed, and I’ll send someone in to cut out his tongue. The Winter Soldier does not need to speak.”
You grit your teeth, biting back several choice words. Not worth it.
“As I was saying, I need your help. The Soldat loves you, Y/N.” Bucky’s eyes fell, unable to meet your gaze. “I see it in how he protects you, how the two of you fight together. I made him. I know what my machine looks like when it has been corrupted.”
Bucky was backing slowly away from the glass, face burning in shame.
“I could wipe him, but we both know that Sergeant Barnes has a nasty habit of breaking through to fight back to the ones he loves.”
“Bucky,” you whispered. His eyes flicked to yours, clouded with tears.
“You are his heart, Y/N. And the Winter Soldier’s heart,” he paused, chuckling as if sharing a joke with himself. “The Winter Soldier’s heart must be cold as ice.”
You screeched as you were hit from behind with a stream of ice-cold water. A second followed, this time from your right. You spun quickly, trying to dodge in vain as a dozen swiveling nozzles emerged from the three walls.
You heard Bucky yell your name from the other side of the glass.
You tried to step closer to him, to the one barrier not spitting water at you, but your feet slid out from under you and you crashed to the floor. The streams of water zeroed in, dousing you from head to toe. You coughed, struggling to breathe under the assault.
Without warning, it stopped. You sputtered, shoving the hair plastered to your face back and out of the way.
“Y/N! Doll, are you okay?” You looked up. Bucky was pressed against the glass, a frantic look in his eyes.
You coughed a bit more. “Yeah,” you grumbled, getting slowly to your feet. “I’m fine. What the hell was--” Your eyes fell on a display projected on the glass. “Oh shit.”
“What?”
“I--shit.”
“Y/N, you gotta talk to me, doll.”
You took a deep breath. The display continued to tick lower. You could feel it, too.
“Bucky, you gotta get out of here.”
“Don’t be an idiot. We’ll both get out of here. What’s got you--”
“Bucky, leave. I don’t want you to--”
“Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?” he roared.
You exhaled shakily, finally meeting his eye. “They’re gonna freeze me out, Buck. There’s a temperature read-out up there. And it’s moving down. Fast.”
Bucky seemed to stop breathing.
“They want you to watch this. They want it to break you. Go. Get out before they come to collect... what’s left.”
Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “This is because of me,” he breathed.
“No,” you snapped. You surged forward, pressing both hands to the glass, trying to still the shivers starting to wrack through them. “This is Hydra. They are sadistic and awful regardless of who’s involved. They got me. Please don’t let them get you too.” You rolled your shoulders, which were already starting to stiffen up. “They’re taunting you with that door. They think they know you. That you won’t take it and go. They think they’re breaking you--”
“They are.”
“Bucky,” your voice broke. Your whole body was starting to tense. You resisted the urge to look up at the temperature display. No good news would be waiting if you did.
“If I leave they’ll kill you immediately.”
Your teeth chattered as you sunk to the floor in front of the glass. “Wouldn’t that be kinder than this?”
He fell to his knees as if you’d pulled him down with you. “I--”
“I’m growing impatient,” the voice rang out again. You curled more tightly in on yourself, tucking your knees to your chest. “Let’s try this.”
Vents slid open on all sides, and chill air rushed in with a roar, like the winds of a blizzard battering you as you sat pressed against the glass.
Your vision was starting to darken at the edges. You thought you knew what cold felt like, but this... God, you just wanted it to be over.
You could see Bucky mouthing your name, saying something, but you couldn’t hear him anymore over the wind. He scrambled to his feet, and you were glad for a moment. He was going to go.
That hope was crushed as he threw himself against the glass with everything he had. Nothing. No give. No crack. But that didn’t discourage him. Fists of flesh and metal attacked the barrier between you without pause.
Your breaths were shallower with each exhale.
His skin broke first. Split knuckles spattering red across the tiny web of cracks he was forming.
You fought your heavy eyelids, fought your body pitching backwards to the floor.
With all the control you could muster, you pressed a hand to the glass in front of you. Bucky froze in his frenzied attack, something feral in his eyes stilled by the pleading in yours.
“I love you,” you whispered. There was nothing but pure anguish on his face. You couldn’t tell if he understood you. But there was nothing more you could do as your frozen fingers slid down the glass, and the world went black.
Bucky flinched violently when Y/N began to stir.
He wished he could help it, wished her breath against his neck didn’t startle him even as it steadied.
It was easier for a bit, when her shivering resumed. That at least kept him present with her. But when that began to settle as her temperature rose further, he was lulled into half a doze, content to hold her until she woke.
He was nearly asleep when she inhaled sharply, hands instinctively pressing into his stomach and pushing away.
Bucky froze for a second, thrown briefly back into half a blurry memory of sharp stabs to his abdomen, but he quickly shook it off. Her hands were soft. Panicked, but gentle.
He eased back into the couch cushion until he could see her face. The panic in her eyes was already starting to ebb, and they crinkled at the edges when he met her gaze.
“Hi,” she croaked.
Bucky fought the tears welling in his eyes. “Hi, doll.”
A shiver wracked through her. “Cold,” she muttered, cuddling back into him. Her cheek pressed back against his neck.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “No shit.”
The only sound for a moment was the last embers of the fire crackling.
“Did the charges work?”
“‘Course they did, sweetheart. You programmed ‘em. Set ‘em off as soon as we were clear.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe that’s your first question.”
“Well, what... what happened?”
Bucky cleared his throat. “How much do you remember?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I, uh... I told you to go and you wouldn’t. You were trying to break the glass. Your hand—”
“Is fine. Stopped bleeding a while ago. Helen’ll stitch it up when we’re back. Medevac is on its way, too.”
“Was it Steve that answered?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he say we could go to Bermuda now?”
Bucky laughed. “Y’know, I think he’s considering it.”
“He damn well better be.” She pulled away from him, her eyes welling up a bit as they bore into his. “It was so cold.”
“I thought you were gone, doll,” Bucky whispered. “I don’t know how long it took for me to break through after you went down, but it was... too fuckin’ long.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You were right, though.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Once I got to you, getting out was easy. I guess they didn’t think I’d be able to pull it together. Seeing someone I... someone else go through some of the same things I did.”
Y/N grimaced. “You never told me that. You mentioned cryo, but that’s not the same.”
Bucky sighed, turning his head to stare at the ceiling. “There’s a lot I don’t talk about. What good would it do?”
Gentle fingers turned his chin back down to face her. A calloused thumb running small circles along the edge of his jaw. “It might make things easier for you, Buck. To not have to carry it by yourself.”
He smiled ruefully. “Maybe when we go to Bermuda. If Thor can provide some of that Asgardian shit.”
“Fair. I doubt this kitchen has anything to help make that conversation any less painful.”
Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip, mulling over her words. “I almost could, doll. I never thought I’d be able to be this... close. To anyone. Ever again. And not completely fall apart. But you... you’re so... you reminded me that I could...” He couldn’t find the words, but she nodded.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Buck. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been for you to be there, and then to have to...” Her eyes flicked down, then back to his. It was only for a split second, but it clearly acknowledged the elephant he’d put in the room.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
“Don’t. You crossed a line for me. I know how important your space and privacy are to you, and you sacrificed that for me. You saved my life.”
Bucky flushed, at a loss for words. “You should, uh... I should get you some water.” Before she could answer, he unwrapped himself from her and started to climb over, but his legs tangled in the blankets and he fell heavily on top of her.
Bucky froze, his ears heating up as he locked eyes with her. Shit. “I—”
She burst out laughing. He breathed a sigh of relief, his own laughter joining hers.
“Y’know,” she smirked, arching an eyebrow. “I could get used to this.”
Bucky’s jaw dropped. His entire face was on fire. Y/N laughed even harder, and he couldn’t control his grin.
“Guess there’s not really any coming back from this, is there?” he sighed.
“Probably not. I mean I did say I love you thinking they’d be my last words.” She said it so casually, like it wasn’t the most important thing he’d ever heard.
“You what?” he choked.
“Yeah, that’s what I was trying to say right before I passed out. Kinda dramatic of me, I guess, but to be fair that Hydra asshole started it. ‘The Winter Soldier’s heart must be cold as ice.’ For fuck’s sake...” She was still talking, but Bucky couldn’t hear her over the blood roaring in his ears.
She what?
“...like did he have that setup in every room just so he could have that specific play on words...”
She’s not just humoring me with a coffee date. She loves me.
“...I wonder what their water bill is like, if they had that...”
She loves me. She loves me and I can hold her and nothing hurts and she loves me and–
“Buck?”
“Hmm?” He had stopped listening entirely, but refocusing on her beautiful eyes found them filled with concern. He had been staring.
“Are you--”
“You love me?”
She grinned. “I do.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. A breath, and then his lips met hers too. Warm as summer sunshine. Sweet as honey.
"I love you, too,” he whispered into the breath shared between them. She hummed contentedly, shifting slightly, and he suddenly realized he was still lying on top of her. “I’m squishing you, aren’t I?”
“Mmm, maybe just a bit,” she laughed. “Hey!” she yelped as he rolled the two of them without warning away from the edge of the couch until their positions were reversed.
Giggling in the dying glow of the fire, the color returning to her face, her eyes twinkling in the dim light, she was radiant.
“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed, stealing another kiss.
“Bucky,” she laughed, “I was literally just defrosted like some godforsaken leftovers. There’s no way that--”
“Shut up and support me,” he teased in an awful imitation of her voice. She groaned, pressing her face into his chest before planting a thumbs up next to her head. He could feel her laughter shaking through his entire core. He wanted to feel that for the rest of his life.
Across the room, the clearance light began to flash. Y/N stilled, and in the silence Bucky could make out the drone of a quinjet approaching.
“Medevac. About time,” he muttered.
“Buck?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not wearing any clothes.”
“Right. Yeah, umm--”
“My suit--”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Well, shredded, anyways.”
“Right,” she grinned. “So you’re definitely paying for the coffee.”
“As if I wasn’t going to already. You wound me, sweetheart.”
“I’ll make it up to you. But first I’m gonna steal your t-shirt. And you’re probably not gonna get it back.”
“Ah, so it begins.” Bucky grinned as he pulled her in for one more kiss.
He breathed her in as he did, breathed in the warmth that his embrace had given back to her, breathed in the light of her laughter and the softness of her touch. Breathed in the feeling of skin on skin, intimate and innocent all the same. Breathed in her fingers carding through his hair, her belly pressed to his, her toes on his ankles, offering nothing but comfort. Breathed in her palm pressed nonchalantly, uncaringly to the scars on his shoulder. Breathed in the believing that if he could preserve the light that was her, his eye in the storm, then maybe the storm wasn’t so bad after all.