Chapter Text
Despite this fact, Bucky finds himself smiling (a rare occurrence, even when it’s not ass-crack o'clock) he’s been texting you all weekend, mostly random things that were too trivial to talk to the team about.
He was pleasantly surprised when he discovered you two had the same chemistry when texting that you did talking out loud. He got this tight, fluttery happiness every time his phone pinged. And he blanks and completely loses his train of thought at least twice a day when he remembers he has a soulmate. And it’s you.
The memory of your kiss is still fresh in his mind, he can’t quite believe it. Your lips had left a seared print upon his memory, like a brand. And sometimes he’ll press his fingertips to his mouth, just to remember the sweet pressure.
It’s embarrassing.
Steve keeps elbowing him and Natasha grins like the grinch every time Bucky looks at his phone. Sam wants to meet you, complaining that by now he’s the only one that hasn’t met ‘his beau’. Bucky will never admit it -they’d never let him hear the end of it- but he’s glad they approve of you. The team seems glad that he gets to have a soulmate, and everyone that has met you has loved you. It’s sad, maybe. But when he looks at his friends -his family, really- he can see how tired and broken and weary they are. Clint doesn’t have a soul mark. Steve met his too many years ago. Natasha… doesn’t talk about her soulmate at all. They’re all glad he gets to have this, and he’s glad he gets to have them.
Anyway.
The meeting.
Bucky scoffs, catching himself yet again with his fingertips pressed to his lips.
Steve’s voice is strong, dripping with authority, even as he raises his hand to ask a question, like a dork. “Shouldn’t we be warning the people at the tower? I mean, if there is a threat I don’t think we should be hiding it from them.”
“This isn’t the purpose of this meeting captain.” Director Fury looks at Steve with the force of a two-eyed glare, and Bucky is glad he doesn’t actually have two eyes to glare at him with “Agent Hill has it under control, and I would prefer not to cause unnecessary panic. We’re talking about kids spray painting on walls because they think they’re funny, not because they’re Hydra.”
“But I heard you talking to Hill the other day” there’s that glare again, Steve ignores it “and you said it was bigger than you thought.”
“That’s what she said” Sam whispers in Bucky’s ear. Clint hears him and snort-laughs.
“That may be so, Captain Rogers. But still, this is below your-”
“Wh- Below-” Steve stutters, appalled “No offense sir, but if protecting the people that live and work with us is below the Avengers, then what kind of-”
“Alright” Natasha cuts in, “this is ridiculous. Sir, I’m with Steve on this.” She doesn’t even wilt at the look he gives her, Bucky’s impressed “I don’t doubt that Maria can do her job right, but I think we should at least be taking the threat seriously enough to warn the people that work at the tower.”
“Fine” Fury concedes at last, running a hand over his head in exasperation “but can we please talk about Bolivia now? I need a team of four ready to leave in a week.”
-
It’s a good day, in Bucky’s opinion. He’s not needed on the Bolivia mission, so he doesn’t have to go through the grueling prep process. The whole vandal thing is mostly solved, everyone is going home early already, so they’ll just have to make a formal announcement tomorrow. Well, the tower will make an announcement, the Avengers aren’t really getting involved.
So, he spends half an hour in the gym, takes a nice long shower -he uses the fancy shampoo and everything- and then dresses in his comfiest henley and jeans. He’s just putting on a movie when a knock sounds on his door.
He combs a hand through his hair, yawns, and leisurely strolls to answer.
“Hey man” he greets casually when he sees Clint standing on his doorway. “What’s going o-”
He cuts himself off when he sees the look on his friend’s face. Because he’s been on missions with him before, and Bucky knows the kind of shit they’ve seen, but he’s never seen Clint look this scared. There’s a horrified expression stuck on his face, and he’s so pale he looks like he’s wearing a mask.
“I don’t know how they did it” he pants. And Bucky doesn’t know what his friend is talking about, but he hurries to put on some shoes anyway. “They-” Clint is half inside his room already “they just started shooting, they just stepped into the second floor and started shooting.”
And Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast. He doesn’t ask what the hell is going on because he knows, and a heavy stone of dread sinks into his stomach. A blink and he’s got Clint by the arm, another and they’re running through the hallway towards the elevator. Bucky doesn’t even close the door behind him.
Cold panic sinks it’s claws into his chest, but he still forces himself to wait for the elevator to arrive instead of launching himself down the stairs like he wants to.
The second floor, you’re on the second floor and this is just like that night when they killed the couple on the street and for one terrible moment he’d thought you were dead.
Would he even know? Does this connection he has with you end with the cosmic ink that was used to write his terrible words on your skin? Or would he know, would the universe tell him you were hurt. He hopes it would, and the thought that it may not makes him lurch with anxiety.
He just got you, and he can’t afford to lose you. He looks down at his own arm, and the greeting written on it now sounds in his head with your voice.
Clint graciously pretends not to hear the shaking breath he lets out.
Each second stretches out impossibly long, and the numbers counting down on the side of the elevator mock him.
20
12
8
4
And then he remembers, because he takes half a step before his brain steps on the breaks. You work on the fourth floor.
You’ve been working on the fourth floor for a while now, not the second. He sags with relief and tells himself again, just to calm his hammering heartbeat. Not the second.
He doesn’t know why he thought you were on the second floor, he knew you used to work there, but he’d met you after that. He’d been so sure you were in danger before, but it was probably a brain glitch. People are still being shot though, and he feels guilty about feeling relieved after realizing you were safe.
He knew you were technically in danger, the whole tower was. But now that your life wasn’t being threatened directly he felt better.
His blood still feels heavy with anticipation, he knows there will be a fight. The metal of his arms shifts and clicks right before the elevator doors open, and they’re greeted with chaos.
The whirr and whine of assembling metal draws his attention first, and he turns just in time to watch Tony’s face disappear behind red and gold.
“Get them out of here!” The mask does nothing to filter the panic from his voice.
Bucky gets to work instantly, pulling Clint along.
A man in a balaclava is laughing while he fires shots at a terrified man, lying on the ground and trembling in his three piece suit. He makes sure to never hit his target, the bullets hitting the floor around the man with a bang and a crack.
Bucky isn’t that cruel, his fist finds his target fast and true, and only the crunch of bone can be heard before Balaclava falls limply to the ground. Clint doesn’t even hesitate before stealing the unconscious man’s gun and leading the guy in the three-piece to the nearest hallway, where a group of workers are huddled around the corner. They yelp anxiously when Clint comes into view, and then whisper nervously at their coworker, who still looks a little green from fright.
Bucky spots a door a few feet away, and he jiggles the handle before he realizes it’s locked, he’s sure it’s the one that leads to the stairs. It opens with a keycard and Bucky asks the group if they have one.
“They disabled them when they came in” the woman who speaks doesn’t look scared, but rather angry. Her dark cheeks are wet from tears, and her grip on one of her coworker’s jacket is too tight to look casual, but her brown eyes burn with fire. Bucky immediately decides that he likes her.
Clint gives him a look, and Bucky knows what he’s thinking, the tower is protected with Stark technology. And if these people got in so easily that means that either they have a genius on their side or there’s a spy in the tower.
There’s no time to answer that question at the moment though. He uses his metal hand to break the electronic lock clean off, and the woman from earlier leads her coworkers through the door before going through herself. Steve has just arrived to the fight, and when Bucky turns he sees Natasha take down a man almost twice her size.
People keep coming in from every direction, friends and enemies alike. Bucky knows they have to block the entrances, stop anyone else from coming in before they’re outnumbered. Clint hadn’t brought his bow and arrow to the fight, but he doesn’t miss a single shot while using the gun.
“Go” he says firmly, firing a shot that hits a man on the arm and makes him drop the gun he was about to fire. “You gotta cut them off” Clint can clearly handle himself, so Bucky listens and runs towards the stream of armed men.
This is clearly more about causing panic than a strategic attack, so Bucky knows his goal is to take down as many men as possible. Unless this is a distraction. It isn’t very likely, but he hopes the team wasn’t stupid enough to come down all at once and leave the labs unattended.
He also hopes Banner was smart enough to get the hell out of here before the situation got any worse.
He rushes to the entrance hallway, dodging people as they run for cover and fighting any bad guys looking for an opening. Suddenly, a group of men armed to the teeth turn the corner, and while he’s trying to stop the sudden onslaught of bullets with his metal arm a blond man grins, pulls the safety off a grenade with his teeth, and throws it as far as he can.
Bucky yells, but it does nothing to stop it’s trajectory. The grenade flies over his shoulder and hits a wall. A second passes, and everything stills. Then the grenade explodes.
Debris goes flying everywhere, and a piece of drywall flies by his face and nicks him on the cheek. His ears are ringing and Bucky shakes his head harshly to get rid of the sound.
He wishes he had his comms so he could check on the rest of the team, but he doesn’t. So he settles for trying to rub the dust from his eyes and stopping these people from getting any further.
He can’t stop everyone, and some of the men run past him. He still manages to knock out a good amount though, and he takes special care of breaking grenade-guy’s cheekbone. His harsh breathing forces dust into his lungs, and he coughs as he runs to a window. He can see police cars outside, and they’re escorting the tower’s employees to safety and securing the entrances so no one can get in. He catches sight of the group he and Clint had helped before, and he lets out a small breath before going back in. He can still hear shouting and guns, but now he knows this won’t take long.
The bad guys’ advantage is gone, and the surprise factor won’t help them in what’s to come next. They’re locked in with The Avengers after attacking their home and their people, and no one is coming to help them.
-
Bucky is angry, but the Soldier, ever present in the back of his mind, is restless with glee as he fights his way back into the main office. His clothes are covered in grime and blood by the time he gets there, panting and wide eyed, to where the rest of his team awaits.
The room stands still in the silent aftermath of chaos. The air is thick with the dust and smoke that still floats around, the acrid smell of gunpowder makes his nose itch. The quiet, terrified sobbing and fluttering of paper are like white noise that echoes in the once bright and busy room.
Bucky passes the charred remains of a desk, with what looks like candy wrappers littered around it. It sinks into his mind that these were civilians, their civilians, this was never meant to be a war zone.
Something crunches beneath his foot, and Bucky lifts a dirt-smudged sneaker to reveal the now crushed glasses. He winces.
He’s about to pick them up when what can only be described as a wail cuts through the somber silence like a whip.
“HELP!” The woman’s voice cracks with fear and Bucky sprints in the general direction of the call. He thinks maybe someone may be trapped below some fallen heavy object, but the truth is much worse.
Steve is standing before a door when he gets there, surrounded by a group of curious onlookers. “Get me medical!” He calls out over his shoulder, and Natasha runs from the room. She’s limping, but she still weaves quickly and expertly through the crowd.
A second later he steps aside for the medical team, they’re carrying along a stretcher, and their hands have smudges of dirt on them.
He continues to stand aside, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. But then Clint, scratched and beaten bloody, gets closer to the scene. He looks at the body on the stretcher and his eyes glance up immediately to find Bucky. He looks away quickly, but Bucky notices anyway. He sprints to catch up to Steve and the now moving stretcher.
His body reacts before his mind, and he’s doubling over with a breathless gasp before he truly registers who it is that’s lying there. He feels like screaming, but he can’t get enough breath into his lungs to do so. What happened? You were safe. You were safe.
His voice tears from his throat without permission. And a heavy hand lands on his shoulder with the intention of grounding him. He’s shaking, and Steve looks at him intently, confused as to why he’s suddenly breaking apart at the seams. He places his other hand on Bucky’s chest, trying to keep all the pieces from coming apart. Steve’s hand is scorching hot against his chest, and it feels like it burns him all the way to his lungs. He can’t breathe, and he’s cold.
And suddenly, with a horrible sinking certainty, Bucky knows exactly what’s happening. He doesn’t know how they did it, doesn’t know why HYDRA would want to do this.
He can’t freeze again. They can’t do this to him again. His body hurts, and he’s trying to call out to Steve even as he stumbles away from his burning hands.
He has to get to you before it happens, before his joints freeze oven and stop him from moving again. Already he feels stiff and numb as he stumbles over to you.
Your face is pale and there is so much blood on your clothes he doesn’t know where the wounds are. He doesn’t want to see you like this, doesn’t want the last image he has of you until who knows how long to be you bleeding out on a stretcher, surrounded by dust and smoke.
But Bucky can’t leave you alone, and he will push through panic and pain and frost to get to your side. Your hand in his is limp and frail. “Oh fuck Y/N, please, I’m so sorry.” He can only beg as they carry you away. He doesn’t want to go back under, he doesn’t want to watch you leave him, he doesn’t want you to be hurt. Please.
No one listens.
-
Steve manages to pull him away from the scene, shaking and crying and trying to get to you even on unstable legs.
He manages to convince him that he’s not going back into cyro again, and that the cold he feels in his bones is just a natural response to panic.
The feeling doesn’t fade. Not when the last time he saw you you were barely grasping at the fragile thread of consciousness.
Bucky rubs a hand over his face, and he catches Steve make an aborted motion to stop him. But it’s too late. The copper-rust scent of blood explodes so suddenly against his senses that Bucky lurches, gagging.
That’s your blood. His hand is covered in it and his face is covered in it too and he had felt your hands were sticky and oh god it’s your blood.
“Hey” Steve says, grasping him firmly once more as he starts to shake apart again.
“Okay. Okay buddy, okay” Steve’s guiding him to the elevator gently, even though he has no clue what’s going on. “We’ll get you somewhere quiet alright?”
Bless him, he looks terrified as well. The attack has left him feeling tired and guilty and angry, and yet his hand is gentle and reassuring on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky leans his head on his friend’s arm, both in thanks and for support.
“Please” he slurs “I havta- I have to get to her” Bucky swallows and his mouth tastes like bile “I just got my soulmate Stevie, please. I have to get to her I can’t…” I can’t lose her, he means to say. But the words stick to his throat.
Steve pauses, eyes widening as he registers what his friend just said. Bucky distantly remembers that Steve hasn’t met you before, and laments the fact that it had to be like this. “She’s your…” Steve whispers, his tone heavy with understanding. Bucky can tell he’s shocked, but he recovers quickly.
“She’ll be alright Buck, okay? But you gotta let the med team do their job, you’re more help to her right now just waiting it out than…” he windmills his free hand while he finds the words “barging in through the doors like a madman.”
Bucky feels like a madman though. Wild and fragile and scared at the same time, he feels right on the edge of something, and he doesn’t want to know what that is.
“I’ll get you a change of clothes while you’re in the shower, 'k? We can go see how she’s doin’ after that.” Steve pushes him gently in the direction of the bathroom and doesn’t close the door all the way when he’s inside. Bucky knows Steve wants to be able to know if he falls, or if he breaks down, he also knows the last thing Bucky wants right now is to feel trapped. He appreciates the gesture, but it still makes him feel like a child.
The water looks more like mud as it runs along his body, the many small cuts he acquired during the fight are stinging, but he barely notices. He doesn’t feel clean, and he’s already scrubbed and scrubbed for nearly ten minutes. He’s panting, on the verge of crying when the blood won’t rub off his skin.
It’s your blood, and no matter how hard he scrubs it won’t come off. His skin is red and raw already, but his mind won’t let him stop.
“I’m getting you some sweatpants, and maybe I should pack a change of clothes, huh? For the hospital?” Steve breaks the silence, speaking louder than necessary in hopes he can drown out Bucky’s mind. No doubt he can hear his heaving breath. “I’ll pack the gray ones, and the blue t-shirt, the one with the stripes. Maybe we can convince Nat to let us borrow one of her blankets.” He’s talking aimlessly, narrating everything he’s doing to keep Bucky distracted.
It works. Bucky gulps, takes a few deep breaths, and gets out of the shower. Pointedly not looking at his hands or at his reflection in the mirror.
“Hey bud” Steve says when he sees Bucky come out of the shower, his eyes are soft as they skim over his red skin, but he doesn’t say anything about it “Let’s go see her, alright?”
-
A terrible weight is sitting on your chest, and you fight your own body on the way up from the depth of the darkness that engulfs you. It feels like waking up, but worse.
There’s light hurting your eyes, and you’re not sure if you’re laying down or if you’re somehow hanging from the ceiling. This is not your apartment- the light is not this bright there- and it feels like the scent of smoke is clinging to you like a memory.
“W'ram I?” Your voice won’t work, your head hurts, your heart is starting to pound with anxiety.
“You’re in a hospital” the voice is calm, matter-of-fact.
“Oh no” you mumble. And then pass out again.
-
The second time you wake up it’s to the sound of crying.
Rapid, sobbing breath interrupts frantic speech. It all sounds like gibberish to you, but it’s evident the crying girl is talking to someone, since she’s occasionally interrupted by the soothing rumble of a male voice.
It takes you a great effort to open your eyes, which felt like they’d been taped shut. But finally light and color burst into your eyesight, blurry but still harsh. You grunt at the stinging in your eyes and the voices stop.
“I think we should take this outside dear, let sleeping beauty wake up properly.” Tony Stark gives you a small, tight lipped smile as he ushers a short, chubby girl out the door. She’s still crying.
“I swear I put it in my bag this morning, I just don’t know when they could’ve-” she’s gesturing wildly, ignoring Tony’s attempts at pushing her out.
“It’s alright, they were just waiting for the right moment” the door clicking shut cuts them off, but you can still hear them murmuring on the other side of the door.
With a start you realize that you know that girl. She’s the intern that had arrived in a flurry of papers and coffee and platinum blonde hair. She’d said something about forgetting her key card just before…
Just before…
You’re afraid to look under the sheet of what you now realize is a hospital bed. But you know what you’ll find if you do. Because you remember the pain, and the blood, and the fear.
The heart-rate monitor’s rhythmic beeping becomes quicker as your heart rate skyrockets. Is everyone alright? How long have you been here? Where’s Marina?
Where’s Bucky?
He was the last face you’d seen before losing consciousness, and the pain you remembered in his eyes worried you, you didn’t even know if he was alright.
You look around the room, as if hoping that somehow he’d been there the whole time and you just hadn’t noticed him. But he wasn’t there.
Suddenly, as if your thoughts had summoned him, the door clicks back open and a mess of dark brown locks peeks through. Followed closely by a pair of eyes bruised by lack of sleep, a scruffy beard, and the rest of Bucky’s person.
It takes him a moment to realize you’re awake. He blinks tiredly at your bedridden form, scans your face, and then realizes your eyes are open. He blinks once again- this time in surprise- before practically teleporting to your side.
“Oh, thank god” his arms are fluttering rapidly all over your frame, not really touching you but obviously wanting to “thank fucking god, Jesus Christ.”
His right hand finally lands on your arm, then drags down the length of it until he’s holding your hand. His grip is tight, but not painfully so. His other hand hovers next to your cheek for a moment, unsure, until you lean your head so that your face rests in the cup of his metal hand. His breath whooshes out of him in a stuttered exhale.
“You were covered in blood”
“I know.”
“They wouldn’t say anything to me and I got so worried.”
“I’m okay Bucky, I’m okay now” you don’t know if the woozy feeling that overcomes you is from the pain meds or the constant motion of his thumb rubbing gently back and forth over your cheekbone. The metal whirrs and clicks, but the motion doesn’t seem deliberate.
“You were so pale. I-I thought you wouldn’t wake-” the door opens suddenly, but Bucky’s reaction is instant. His hands leave your body immediately and he turns away from you and the door, a curtain of hair shielding his face. He clears his throat once, twice, and then sits back down on the chair next to the bed like nothing had happened.
He’s close again, but this time he doesn’t reach out to touch you.
Tony pauses in the middle of his sigh, looking back and forth between you and Bucky like he can read the tension in the room.
“Well then” he starts, in a tone like he’s just finished settling a discussion, even if he’s just come in “I think you and I need to have a little chat, Y/N.”
“Are you firing me?” You say, like an impulsive dumbass. It might be the drugs.
“No” he blinks “but I wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to quit.”
“Oh” You say. Bucky’s perfectly silent beside you, looking like he hasn’t heard a single word of the conversation “um, I-I don’t think I will. I mean, this isn’t really the job I want forever, but…”
“If you want to leave there’ll be no hard feelings. In fact, I could help you kickstart whatever it is you want to do.”
“Oh no, Mr. Stark-”
“I wanted to apologize for the…” he waves his hand at your bandaged figure “and really a loan is the least I can do.”
“But-” wait what? He wanted you to quit your job? And what was that about a loan? Was he doing this with every single victim of the attack? This was too fast, way too fast. And you were currently on too many drugs to deal with it. “I won’t be able to pay you back” you state lamely, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Stark, can you at least wait until she’s standing up before you start trying to make her take life-changing financial decisions?” Bucky finally decides to speak. He looks a little annoyed, but also somewhat amused.
Tony straightens his suit jacket, a little embarrassed. “Right” he clears his throat. “That settles it then.”
“…settles what?” But you’re too slow, Tony Stark has already left the room.
Bucky breathes out a chuckle. “There’s probably gonna be a ton of money in your bank account in about twenty minutes.”
“Wh-!” You choke “No! I really can’t pay him back. And, knowing me, I’ll probably end up ruining the whole thing and I’ll be broke in like… two months! I-I’d rather earn the money, I think.” You’re waiting for Bucky to interrupt, but he just looks at you softly, his hand is back on your arm. “Wh- quit staring at me like that! I’m having a crisis here.”
And then he laughs.
That gives you pause. You realize that you’ve never seen him do that. In your short time of knowing him, Bucky Barnes has never laughed in your presence, not like this. There’s the small, private smile that you adore so much. And the short, sarcastic huff of breath, and the deep, rumbling chuckle he makes when he’s amused at your expense.
But he’s never laughed like this, eyes alight with relief and head thrown back in a shameless display of happiness.
“Darling” he starts, laughter dripping from his voice like honey “I don’t think Stark expects you to pay him back. If it really makes you uncomfortable I can talk to him, but it’ll probably make him feel better if you just take the money.”
Your brain is still recovering from the way he just called you darling, and it takes you a moment to gather yourself back into a human person and not a gooey puddle.
“Uh” you say coherently.
The corner of his mouth quirks up. Little shit.
“You don’t have to decide today. You’re still in the hospital.” At the reminder of your state his expression hardens. “Does it hurt?”
You shift in bed to test your condition and immediately grimace. “Yeah, but only when I breathe.” You try to joke, but your grin drops when Bucky’s face turns downright murderous. “What day is it?” You try to shift the conversation away from your hurting body. You’d been dreading the answer, but you probably haven’t been out for more than a few hours.
His mouth twists to the side “it’s Wednesday” he leans back on the chair, blowing out a huff of air “the doctors said you were lucky. Nothing major, though you’re probably going to have to take it easy for a few months.”
“Oh” you say, that meant you were out for a whole day and a half, and probably a good chunk of today too. That wasn’t so bad, although you regret losing Monday. You have a feeling like you’re forgetting something, although you can’t pinpoint what.
“Shit!” You exclaim suddenly, trying to sit up. Oh no, Monday.
“Wh-HEY!! What the hell?! I literally just told you to take it easy, are you insane?!” Bucky jumps from his chair, angrily trying to get you to lie back down while you whine about the pain that flares all over your body “yeah, ow. What the hell was that about?”
“I missed our date” you whine.
Bucky stares at you in silence until you feel dumb. Mouth parted and eyes squinted in disbelief.
“Okay, first of all, I told you it wasn’t a date” you grin up at him and he turns away, but you can see him breaking “Jesus, that was stupid” he’s fighting a smile, you can tell.
Finally, he huffs, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your forehead. “I’ll get us pretzels later, little dare-devil. But only if you promise never to get shot again.”
“Fine. It wasn’t any fun anyway.”
He snorts “the team’s waiting outside, by the way. They all came to visit you while you were out, but they want to meet you officially.”
You’re surprised “Why?”
“'Cause you’re my soulmate. But mostly because they’re all nosy bastards.” His smile is fond as he says it “they’ll come in when you’re ready.”
You don’t think you’ll ever be ready to meet the Avengers, but it’s easy to just think of them as Bucky’s family, especially when he’s smiling like that. All soft and mildly embarrassed.
“Oh, um, sure” you look down at yourself. Crap, you’re probably a mess. You look around the room, searching for a mirror or any reflective surface. Surprisingly, your phone is sitting next to you on the stand, someone had even been kind enough to plug it in. “Can you pass me my phone?”
Bucky turns, stretching back to unplug it and then handing it to you.
As soon as you go to unlock it you notice you have like a gazillion texts, and almost as many missed calls. Some are from your family, some from Michael, and Marina, most are from Anna. All of them asking you how you were doing and what was going on in increasing levels of worry.
You grimace, knowing you’re going to have to answer them sooner or later.
You shoot a quick text to Anna, telling you that you’re fine and that you’ll fill her in later, knowing she’ll tell Michael.
You text Marina as well, and tell her to stop apologizing. The texts start back up immediately, but you ignore them in favor of opening your phone camera.
You don’t look as bad as you expected, although your hair looks like a rat’s nest and there are deep bruises under your eyes. Someone has removed your makeup while you were unconscious, but you don’t look any worse than you feel. Which, okay, isn’t saying much. But you’ve just been shot, so they’ll just have to deal. You try to pat your hair down as best you can and then turn to Bucky, lopsided smile on you face.
He huffs an amused breath “Can I kiss you?”
The question catches you off guard “Why?” You blurt. Goddamnit! Stupid! Stupid!
“Because you’re adorable.” He says it patiently “and because I was worried, and because I just realized that I can and I really, really want to.”
Be still, my beating heart.
“Sure.” You squeak. You’re about to pass out again, you’re sure of it.
His mouth quirks up again, half smirk and half loving smile. And then his left hand lands on your right cheek, cold metal against warm skin. And his lips touch yours.
You’re glad you’re laying down already. Because the soft, long drag of his lips against yours makes you want to swoon like a 19th century woman. He moves like he wants to tug his right hand from yours, but you just hold him tighter. Warm laughter huffs against your lips. He just tugs a little harder and moves his hand to rest on your other cheek. You hum, it feels like there’s light blossoming in your chest. Bucky nibbles on your bottom lip before pulling away and it feels like he’s taking your soul with him when he does.
“Oh boy” you say, dazed. You can’t quite manage to pull yourself back together “the moment’s almost perfect.”
“Almost?” He sounds mildly insulted “what’s missing?”
“Hmm” you hum, fighting the giddy smile that threatens to bubble up from your chest “pretzels.”
Bucky laughs that perfect laugh once more.