Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today

It was the panicked, borderline frantic look in Bucky's eye that made Rose break down. She'd flung herself into his arms without a second thought. And when Bucky hugged her in return, and his metal hand wrapped around the back of her neck, Rose could've sworn a shard of her heart clicked back into place. A sobering realization settled over her.

"We should talk about last night."

Rose was the one to pull away. She didn't want to, Bucky's hands slid over her as she retreated, as if unwilling to let go. He blinked down at her, looking calmer than he'd been before. Bucky wore that same hard expression that seemed a permanent fixture on his face, but it did nothing to conceal the fire in his eyes.

His hands fell away from her and Rose felt suddenly colder.

"Last night," he deadpanned.

"Yeah...I...Bucky, I'm sorry. I never should've done that. It wasn't fair to you and I’ve put us both in an awkward situation. I don't deserve any forgiveness but you deserve an apology. I…I don't want you to feel uncomfortable staying here with me. I know I messed up and I just—I'm sorry," she finished lamely, wringing her hands together.

It was a lame excuse and she knew it, but being tipsy had given her the confidence to do what she couldn't do sober. Truthfully, she shouldn't have done it at all. If she'd refrained they wouldn't be having this very uncomfortable interaction.

Rose risked a glance up at him. Bucky's brow was furrowed and that faraway look was back in his eye.

"Bucky? Say something."

He blinked at the sound of her voice. His eyes shifted around the room before finally landing on her.

"I don't understand."

It was Rose's turn to be confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you sorry?"

Rose opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out. She pressed her lips together, swallowed despite the dryness in her mouth, and tried again.

"Because I kissed you.”

He stared at her.

"I kissed you without permission, Bucky. That's not okay, I'm so sorry."

She watched him process her words, turning the information over in his brain. His eyes wandered the room and the metal plates in his hand shifted slightly. Rose waited with bated breath, counting the seconds in her head just so she'd have something to ground her. She counted to forty six before he spoke.

"Kissing..." he trailed off, considering his words, "requires permission?"

Rose nodded quickly. "Yes, you should always get permission before kissing someone, which is why what I did was wrong.”

Bucky seemed to understand but Rose couldn't quite tell. "Then..." His eyes darted around her face, looking for something. "Can I kiss you?"

Rose's mouth fell open. He'd asked it so innocently that she didn't know what to make of it.

After a long moment of just staring at him, Rose finally picked her jaw and dignity up off the ground. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. The motion didn't go unnoticed.

"Do you want to?" The words came out breathlessly and a blush crept up her neck. 

"Yes," he said immediately. 

Rose's stomach swooped. All the air had escaped her lungs and she stood on the living room rug, just gaping at the man across from her.

Bucky kept his focus on Rosemary's face, watching her reaction carefully. The flush of her cheeks was an unexpected and beautiful side effect of his words. He liked the color on her, it matched the red dress she had on.

Her stream of apologies hadn't made any sense to him until she'd explained. Now he understood. Verbal permission was required before obtaining a kiss, just like obtaining permission before hitting someone.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked again and waited for her response.

Rosemary sputtered, her eyes darted around the room. Nervous fingers twisted around each other.

"Bucky…do you understand what you're asking?"

"Yes."

She had explained and he understood now. He'd thought that Rosemary was a more lenient handler than previous ones, but perhaps not so lenient that he was allowed to make requests. He waited for an answer or a punishment. Some small voice in the depths of his mind begged for the former. He wanted to better understand the thing he'd felt last night when her lips touched his.

Rosemary swallowed. The sound almost echoed in the quiet living room. Cars and people passed by outside but the sound was muffled by the corners of her apartment.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay. You can kiss me."

A rush of warmth swept over him. He’d been so sure that he would receive punishment.

Bucky stepped closer to her, closing the space she'd created when she pulled out of his arms. He hadn't liked that, but was unsure why.

Rosemary watched him with wide brown eyes. Her breath hitched. 

He was uncertain how to begin, so he imitated what Rosemary had done last night. His right hand held onto her shoulder and his left slid into her hair. Rosemary gasped when Bucky kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft. He let his mouth rest against hers for a moment before retreating.

Rosemary's eyes fluttered open. Her cheeks were impossibly redder. He couldn't help the way his fingers tightened in her hair. Kissing her was nice, but it made him feel like standing at the edge of a rooftop, just before the jump. He feared the fall, but it was inevitable.

"Can I kiss you again?"

He did not need to ask twice this time. 

"Yes, Bucky. "

He wasted no time pressing his lips to hers. The same, sweeping warmth spread up his spine and settled somewhere between his shoulder blades. Bucky was about to pull away when Rosemary's lips moved. The warmth sparked into a flame. A startled noise slipped from his mouth. Rosemary tried to jerk away but his fingers curled tighter in hair to stop her. Bucky followed her retreat and mimicked the movement of her lips. She stilled for a moment and then melted against him. Her lips moved again and Bucky followed the movement.

A breathy sound slipped from her lips and he felt it: the fall.

Everything snapped into focus. A gnawing hunger settled in his gut, clawing and snarling and demanding more. Suddenly he was starving, but not for tupperware lunches, or morning waffles, or even chocolate cake. 

Bucky hungered for this. For Rosemary's lips on his, for the pull of her hair between his fingers, for the floral scent that drifted off her skin, for her trembling hands clutching his shirt, and for the shaky breaths she drew between their lips. He craved the hum of her studio fans, the beams of sunlight that filled her living room each morning, and the warmth of her bedroom at night. For so long he'd been starved and never knew it. But now, with Rosemary in his arms, Bucky was ravenous.

Rosemary's squeezed his shoulder, so close to the metal edge of his arm. Her lips pulled away from his and her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at him with wide brown eyes and flushed cheeks, and Bucky was tempted to kiss her again—he hadn't wanted to stop in the first place.

"Wow," she gasped in the sliver of air between them. Her lips were redder than they'd been a minute ago.

Some emotion, hot and sweeping, moved through him. He could not deny that seeing her like this brought him immense satisfaction, it had been a long time since he'd felt something like that.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked again.

Rose laughed, and dropped her head to his shoulder. She felt the cool metal there even through his shirt. Calloused but careful fingertips scratched against her scalp and Rose nearly moaned.

"Let's take a little break. I don't have the lung capacity that you do."

Her voice came out quivering. In any other situation she might have been embarrassed, but this was Bucky.

Rose swallowed a sigh and took his hand, pulling him to the living room. She allowed his cool metal grip to ground her. Rose flopped onto the couch and pulled Bucky down with her. She let go of his hand to reach for the TV remote but he snatched her hand out of the air and held it tight. He grabbed the remote with his other hand and handed it to her wordlessly.

She laughed, startled by the silly action. His hand just tightened around hers.

"So I guess I'm right in assuming you like holding hands." She turned on the TV and began searching for a movie.

"I like holding your hand," he said quietly, eyes focused straight ahead.

Rose glanced over at him and her stomach erupted in butterflies. She chuckled and swallowed down the need to lean over and kiss him again.

"Careful, Sarge. You'll make a girl fall for you with talk like that."

He turned to her, blue eyes burning bright. "I'll catch you."

The air in her lungs disappeared, replaced by something warm and wanting. It took Rose a moment to figure out how to breathe again. Bucky watched her all the while, steady and cool at her side. Rose was sure that she had to be dreaming because this moment was too good, too right, to be real. But it was.

Rose bit back a flood of tears. In the moments that he was lucid, Bucky Barnes made it all too easy to get lost in him.

"I know you will," she whispered. "I trust you."

Rose pulled their intertwined hands into her lap and wrapped herself around his arm. Bucky stiffened as she shuffled around and made herself comfortable. But once her head was on his shoulder and his arm was hugged firmly against her chest, he seemed to settle in.

The opening credits of Paris When It Sizzles rolled across the screen.They watched the TV, both resisting the urge to kiss the other.

By the time the movie ended Rosemary was fast asleep on his shoulder. Feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest and the puffs of breath against his neck was infinitely better than watching from the floor of her bedroom. But Rosemary's legs were tangled oddly in the skirt of her dress and she kept rubbing her face against the steel of his shoulder, which he was sure couldn't be comfortable.

So, after a good deal of contemplation, Bucky pulled his arm from her grip and gently rose from the couch. Rosemary grumbled in her sleep and pressed her face into the couch cushions. Bucky considered just covering her with a blanket and letting her sleep—he could rest on the floor—but no, Rosemary should sleep among the piles of overstuffed pillows that crowded her bed. It seemed wrong to let her sleep anywhere else. 

As gingerly as he could manage, Bucky slid one arm under her shoulders, the other beneath her knees, and lifted Rosemary from the couch. He tried to ignore how the slit of her dress parted to reveal more of her smooth legs.

He eased the bedroom door open with his foot and maneuvered carefully through the doorway, making sure that no part of her hit the frame. Bucky bent down over the bed, keeping a tight grip on Rosemary while he peeled back the puffy comforter enough to lay her down and pull it over her. He tucked the blanket in around the edges and moved a couple pillows so she'd have something to hold onto in her sleep.

Just as he was pulling away, ready to retreat to his spot guarding the door, her eyes fluttered open.

"Bucky," she sighed his name and a sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

He barely kept himself upright. If she asked him to throw himself on a fire with that voice he would do it, no question. And that terrified him.

Rosemary blinked up at him sleepily. "Stay."

It wasn't an order, but when her warm fingers found his hand and tugged, he could do nothing but obey. And he wanted to.

Rosemary pulled at him again and shuffled to the other side of the bed, making space for him to slide in. Bucky's teeth ground together. If he got into this bed, if he laid down at Rosemary's side and went to sleep, he'd never be able to sleep alone again—not that he slept all that well alone anyway. In his gut, he knew this would ruin him.

Bucky pulled back the comforter and climbed into bed.

Rosemary's mattress was like a marshmallow. He sank into it the moment he laid down as the mattress dipped under his weight. Rosemary rolled a bit closer. Her sleepy smile brightened and she settled on her side, facing him, and closed her eyes.

"You're warm," she mumbled as she faded into sleep.

"Mission report."

A dull buzz from the flickering light above set his teeth on edge. The pages of the mission file unfolded in his mind.

"Package acquired. Target neutralized. No witnesses." 

The handler watched him in silence. The Asset kept his focus straight ahead.

"Did Stark say anything?"

The blank white expanse of his mind supplied the answer. He saw the memory of last night projected like a film across all that white. His mind showed it all so clearly that he was sure he'd be able to touch it if he just reached out.

Blood spatter and broken glass lay strewn across the memory. The scent of burning oil from the Cadillac's smashed engine irritated his nose. Inside the vehicle the witness was unconscious.

He stalked around to the other side of the vehicle. The target had extricated himself. 

"He said 'help my wife.’"

"That's all?"

The Asset hesitated.

"Was that all, soldier?" A cold glint sparked in the handler's eye. He masked it quickly.

"He said a name...Seargent Barnes."

The handler's jaw twitched. "Disregard. Did you secure the package?"

"Yes."

"And the witness?"

"Neutralized."

"Good. Excellent work soldier. Your effort today will shape the world for decades to come."

The handler spun on his heel and marched from the room. "Wipe him," he said in passing to the doctors that lined the room.

Men in white coats rushed forward. A dial was turned on a machine and the medicine flowed faster through the IV drip in his hand. Someone shoved a bite guard between his teeth. He was pressed back against the cold metal of the chair. 

The mechanical halo descended slowly over him. The buzzing of the faulty light above grew louder and louder in his head until the broken glass strewn across the empty white stretches vibrated with the noise. Metal cuffs snapped over his arms. The cold closed in around him. 

He knew what was coming. 

Even when they wiped the blood and screams from his memory, his body remembered. The doctors were speaking—maybe to him, maybe each other—but all he could hear was the buzzing in his brain, the rush of blood in his ears, and that name: Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky's eyes shot open. His every muscle was locked. Each breath came in a rushed huff. The thick blanket on top of him felt suffocating. Sweat slid across his brown as wild eyes darted around the room.

The seconds between waking and regaining control of his body felt like years. He shoved the blanket off with quivering arms and sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. The dull pressure in his skull had turned into a searing ache.

He stood and walked to the door. Bucky paused, one hand on the doorknob, and glanced back. The woman in bed didn't stir. She slept soundly, her lips parted slightly on an exhale. A new pain throbbed between his ribs.

When Rosemary found him half an hour later he was sitting on the living room floor, goosebumps on his arm, and a black tactical suit spread out on the rug in front of him.

"Bucky?" Her sleep-softened voice called to him.

He remained silent. Feet shuffled quietly across the hardwood and then Rosemary was kneeling beside him. They both stared at the suit in silence for a while. 

"I tried to hide it," she mumbled.

The armor had been easy to find. There wasn't a single inch of her apartment that he hadn't investigated on his first night there.

Neither of them spoke. They stared at the rigid leather. Splatters of dry blood showed clearly on the metal buckles. Bucky wondered how much blood had darkened the leather.

"Did I..." he hesitated, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Was I someone else...before I was...this?"

The hitch in Rosemary's breath was answer enough.

"Yes," she confirmed, "you were."

Her hands fiddled in her lap but she didn't reach for him. That was good. He didn't deserve her comfort. 

"I don't know what I'm supposed to regret more. The thing I am," he couldn't meet her eye, "or the person I could've been."