After dinner
After dinner, you find yourselves in the kitchen. Bucky is cleaning up the table, and putting dishes in the sink. His mind seems to be somewhere else. Your hands steady you against the counter. You whip your hair to one side while collecting yourself. You think you can see the gears turning in his head. Your head pokes out a little from your neck to observe his movements. “Is there a chance I could get just an inkling to the great big plan you’ve got in your head?”
Your impromptu demand clearly does not sit right with him. He slowly lets his head creek to the side. Now, looking at you with a tilted posture he stares. He just stares. When he realises that you will not back off he turns away. Shaking his head, he lets out a quick “No.” You can barely even register it before he walks over to the sink to wash his hands.
“Okay well then I am going with you,” his body twists to the side with the speed of light. His brows were so furrowed, you would think they were eyelashes.
“What?” He asks, his eyes bulging out of his head. Your finger shoots up to point at him.
“Gotcha!” So he is planning something. You grin ear to ear, happy to startle him a little bit. The well executed prank gets you back some confidence. You change your posture to a more leisurely strut. “Cmon! I’m not suicidal!” You can see his chest lower and rise animatedly. He is heaving back some of the air his lungs must have lost. You continue the conversation by beginning to hand him some dishes to clean.
You raise your shoulders and tilt your head a bit. “Lets face it,” your voice is softer now, more rational. “If you get caught they're going to think I know whether you tell me or not, so might as well just spare me the annoyance,” you look for his reaction in your side view.
“Know what?” he attempts to deflect, his eyes focused on the plate in his hand. You bump into his side with your shoulder. “Ow,” he yells out punily. You scoff at his antics. As you walk over to the fridge he yells out “And whose they?”
You can not help rolling your eyes. The cold air from the freezer envelops your skin. “The people you’re going to mess with tomorrow,” you retort as you pull out the ice cream. Waving the spoon you have found to emphasize your points, you explain. “And considering the fact you’re going to a prison,” the thud of the container hitting the counter helps too. “That is most likely,” the chair sliding against the floor aids as well. “The government,” you sigh. You close your eyes for a moment and roll your head back to stretch your neck. After a moment or two you turn back to see him. He stands slightly dumbfounded staring back at you. You pat the chair beside you, ushering him to sit.
He follows suit, now staring right out at the window in the living room in front of you. You begin to take spoonfuls out of the ice cream. You alternate between turns of using the spoon. On one of your turns he says. “I don't want to tell you, because it is too dangerous,” he accepts the spoon from you afterward.
While he grabs another bite, you ask “Because the plan is dangerous, or because it is dangerous for me to know?” He chews a few times on his ice cream before returning the spoon.
“Both,” he says with some ice cream still on his tongue.
“Can I trust you won’t get caught, or like can I trust that this doesn’t come back to me?” He swallows the remaining ice cream.
“I won’t lie and say there’s a 0% risk but they are pretty minimal.”
You look at him and try to investigate how much you really need to know about this.
“Could you tell me what you did after it happened?” Bucky scratches the back of his neck a few times. “What do you mean?”
“Like, when it’s over as in when the-” you make a few air quotes when enunciating “mission.” “Is over, could you tell me what happened?” His frown seems a bit more puzzled now. “Would you- wanna hear that?” he croaked with slight bewilderment. “Yeah,” your smile lights up. “I mean, we could make a little date out of it, I love hearing you talk.” Some warmth comes back to your cheeks. “Yeah sure, alright,” he shrugs. You let your hand hold the back of his neck so you can give his cheek a kiss. “Alright then, I’m satisfied.”
As you make headway to the bathroom a thought occurs. You stop and turn. “Hey and about earlier, I- I don’t immediately think you’re dying,” a small chill courses through you from the small cringe you got from your statement.
“What?” His right arm grabs onto the chair back so he can turn towards you. The tendons of his bicep tighten slightly as he grabs the chair, the sight makes you drool.
You hurry to close your mouth, hoping to finish your thought before a million new ones arrive. “I’m not walking around thinking you’re dying if I can’t contact you, I mean I’m not… not that crazy. I know that’s maybe a bit insensitive to say, it’s just…” You take a deep breath and hug yourself a little. “I don’t want you to think that I worry all the time. Like yes I worry, of course.” A small smile warms your cheeks. “That’s what you do when you care about someone, but-” You meet his eyes and they have a slightly puzzled yet also endeared look. “But I’m not walking around biting my nails, fixating on where I saw you last and going unwell at one missed phone call,” you continue to search for some kind of reaction. His mouth opens but nothing comes out. You shake your head a little and look out the window for a few seconds. “I just wanted to clear that up,” you scrunch your nose in one last act before returning to the bathroom. As you turn you lose a little balance and brace a hand against the wall. You take one last look before going to take a shower.
When the water from the overhead faucet begins to meet with your skin the bathroom door creaks open. You hear the shuffling of clothes before you reach for the shampoo. The shower curtain slides to the side. You feel the warm air around Bucky come closer behind you. You let your arms fall down at your sides. His right arm holds around your waist and his head nuzzles into the crook of one of your shoulders. You can sense that the metal arm is off. Something about his gravity is slightly off centre. A tell you have now become accustomed to. “I think one of us should clean the dishwasher after you’ve used it,” you breathe out as you stare up at the showerhead. You feel the back of your head slightly graze against his. It scratches an itch you did not know you had. He grumbles in agreement, more to your shoulder than really you.
You begin to fill one of your hands with shampoo and massage it into your scalp. “You know I really thought today was going to be a success if you didn’t end up in jail, guess I was wrong,” you turn to start massaging his head.
While you do so, he puts back the bottle. “I didn’t go to jail today,” he retorts with his back facing you. Your forearms are raised because your hands are drenched in bubbles. It is an awkward position, so you motion him to let you stand closest to the water. “Yes, but you’re going to prison tomorrow, same difference,” washing away all of the product takes longer than you wish for. You should maybe check up on the water pressure in the shower.
“I’m visiting, ‘ts not the same,” he argues back with ease. He has to talk a little louder than the near whispers you had before, since the water is making such noise. When your hands are clean, he takes one of them, motioning you to stand still under the waterfall. He uses his hand to comb through your hair and help wash out the shampoo. You can not help but smile at the concentration in his face. “Am I really supposed to believe the only thing you’re going all the way to Berlin for, is a twenty minute visit with a war criminal?” “Of course not,” he answered. Finding my eyes, he continued. “I’m pretty sure visitation can be up to 2 hours,” he delivers with his characteristically deadpan charm. You give a little fake laugh in response while staring him down. You palm one of your hands against his chest. His skin is warm and smooth, and you love the sensation against your hand. “So you’re saying there really is no way I can find out a little bit more?” you pester, moving closer to him to get some extra leeway. You earn a small smirk, but his small little headshakes tell you your real answer. Your head falls a little down. “Really?” you complain.
“I thought we just discussed this,” his smirk widens into an amused smile. His hand slides up your back to rest between your shoulder blades.
“Yeah, but now I’m just curious,” your hand balls into a fist and you playfully punch at his shoulder. He continues to omit all information he has been brewing up in his head. “Ugh fineee,” you whined. A faint chuckle echoes in the shower.
As you dry yourselves off you air out a suggestion. “How about we check off one of the movies in Steve’s book?” You wrestle your own hair a bit with your towel. You move over to the sink to grab a hair product or two.
“There were movies in the book?” Bucky asks, now standing behind you with a towel wrapped around his hip. He checks out his beard in the mirror. He twists his head side to side, examining every angle.
“Yeah Rocky is a film,” you answer before putting some mousse on your palm. As you put the product into your scalp, you meet his eyes in the mirror. “You don’t need to shave I think,” you answer to his obvious predicament.
He gives an appreciative nod before he starts checking out other things like his nose hairs and teeth. “Is it a good movie?” he asks, seeming a little uninterested, but not totally against it.
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen it,” you let out before heading to the closet in your shared bedroom. After finding some comfortable underwear, you struggle to pick out some pajamas you want to wear.
James is leaning against the doorframe. His figure, darkened by the lack of light in the bedroom contrasts with the bright light from the kitchen. “How do you wash a dishwasher?” he asks to the void. Washing a dishwasher is something you had only learned of very recently, so you do not really trust yourself to easily explain the entire process.
You are quiet for a second or two before you croak out “Uhm, I think it is better to look it up on the internet, maybe write the specific dishwasher that we have,” with a sheepish tone. You get a gentle rumble of understanding before he uncrosses his arms and comes over towards you. As he stands behind you, the air around him warms your back. His body hovers over yours as he reaches for a pair of boxers. You stand still as your mind tries to coax out a want for a specific clothing item. Eventually, whatever you wore yesterday becomes today's choice as well. As you pull the end of the fabric over your abdomen James’ presence is noticed. You look up at him a little puzzled.
His eyebrows raise in reaction before he explains. “I’m just waiting for you to lead the way,” he says, leaning his hand against the closet door. He nearly falls as the door tries to close under his weight. You chuckle slightly at his antics.
“Not really excited for a movie tonight?” you recognize and shake your head in fake bafflement.
“Heh,” he says with a guilty tone. You push your hands through your hair for a moment to breathe. You can sense Bucky coming closer, clearly to comfort you if you need it.
“Todays been rough,” you breathe out. “I think I should go to bed early, get some rest,” you turn to face him properly. His finger under your chin tilts your head up to look at him, “and by that you mean?” Now you admit in the same guilty tone, “Looking at my phone for two hours before falling asleep with the phone on my face,” your fake frown entertains him. His hand wanders along your jaw to tangle through your hair. “I could lay in bed next to you, would that make it feel more productive?” Your head rolls back to let go of some energy. You sigh. “Only if I can lay on top of you,” you answer playfully, but with earnestness. “Okay feisty one, let's see just how long you last before you get clammy and you push me off of you,” he says while crossing his arms. You feel his humbling jest right to your core. “Hey!” You look to the side to mumble “...I’ve gotten better.” He lets out a chuckle. “Have you though?” He asks, with a small whining intonation at the end. His shoulders hunch in suggested uncertainty. “Yes I have!” You slap his shoulders before marching to the bed, and angrily getting under the covers. After a few seconds of standing still, he shrugs and says “...Alright,” and gets into bed with you. Unluckily for you, but luckily for your brain, screen time gets cut short as sleep overtakes you quickly.
Usually, when he thinks you have fallen asleep, Bucky gets out of bed to go into the living room. Since he prefers to sleep on the floor. Yet tonight, he stays with you the entire time the moon is out, and even a while after that. Before you can wake up, his plane for Berlin sets off. You are happily surprised when you notice a sticky note on the dishwasher. While you hold your morning cup of water, you read the note “Found a tutorial online, washer is all clean. I’ll see ya later, love James.” The last two words are hard to read, because they have been scratched out by the pen. The thought of James debating whether or not he should write the last part amuses you. You smile a little brighter the rest of the day. Which you needed considering you have no one to come home to for the next few days.