INDY

I groaned in exasperation into my pillow, kicking my blanket back a bit. I was always bitching and moaning about how cold it was in New York. It was surprising just how sensitive I was now to the heat. I wore cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt, my hair thrown up into a ponytail, but it was still too warm to comfortably sleep.

Of course, it didn’t help that I had more worries to keep me up than normal. Operation SG-4 had been leaked somehow. I was supposed to be the only one who knew about it. It was still in a more or less theoretical phase. Mostly a collection of unrefined thoughts and vague outlines of ways to breach the mineral deposits we’d found. Nothing had been done about them yet, but the potential applications of the minerals we’d found nearly 41,000 feet below the Earth’s surface were fascinating enough that I’d immediately begun planning a hypothetical dig for them.

If I had even an iota of good luck left to my name, the location of the deposits hadn’t been part of the leak. Although, if they tracked me back to the compound for that… it was probably safest to assume that they knew everything I did. All I could do for now — as impatient as the thought made me — was wait for our team to ferret out our double agent. It probably should have been harder to shove those concerns to the back of my mind.

Weirdly, the thoughts that were doing their most to keep me from sleeping were of a more… carnal nature. Bucky and I had kissed. And holy shit, had that been a kiss. His fingers holding my jaw and the noise he’d made as his tongue entered my mouth had been replaying in my head since he’d slid this stupid ring onto my finger in a gas station parking lot in Decaturville, Tennessee.

Now, suddenly, he was pulling away just like he had that first night we’d nearly kissed. What had changed? From what I could tell, he still seemed to feel the same way about me as he had when he’d pulled me against his body in the dead of night. The look in his eye as we’d stood next to each other in the kitchen earlier had been obvious enough to make my stomach go all light and funny.

Surely, he’d noticed that I’d developed a new habit of losing focus whenever we made eye contact. Or the way my attention was drawn to the bit of skin above his pants whenever his shirt lifted lately. I’d always known — in an objective, distant kind of way — that he was obscenely attractive. That and the fact that he was my coworker, roommate, and eventual friend had initially put romance completely out of my mind, even with my former crush on him somewhat in the back of my head every time we spoke.

The night I’d almost kissed him, I’d been so worried about him, about the wobble in his voice as he told me about his nightmare. I’d hugged him without thought and he’d held me like a kid holds a stuffed animal, cradling me against his chest. When he flinched at my raised hand, a part of my heart broke. Maybe that was why I had leaned in. Or maybe it was the way he’d so readily relaxed under my touch.

After that night on Pepper’s couch, I’d thought he knew that I wanted him. I’d thought he’d wanted me, too. The flirty banter before we’d started our journey down to Texas had reinforced that. And then he started looking away, pulling back. Why? And why did it feel like someone was sitting on my chest every time it happened?

O o 0 o O

The next morning was awkward for a lot of reasons. We both avoided each other’s eye as we mumbled “good morning”s to each other. We had made plans to head to the closest city, Uvalde, first thing this morning for groceries and supplies, so we dressed and loaded into the SUV. Bucky didn’t even fight me for the wheel.

The half-hour trip to the city was quiet and tense. I knew we were both thinking about yesterday, Bucky’s casual evasion. But I was also trying really hard not to linger over the dream I’d had about him once I’d finally fallen asleep last night.

When we entered the supermarket, I nearly jumped when an arm slid casually onto my shoulder. I looked up at Bucky curiously.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and then away, a barely-there red tinge to his cheeks. “We’re supposed to be married. Might as well get used to looking like it.”

I was too hungry to argue. Besides, he was technically right. My compliance had nothing to do with how good he smelled or how comfortable and oddly familiar the weight of his vibranium arm was around me.

It was dangerously easy to pretend. Like magic, our inability to look directly at each other evaporated. It was like we were back in New York, just two friends, shopping and talking about things that didn’t matter in the slightest.

His arm slipped down around my waist occasionally. Casual, fleeting touches against my arm or hip sent my pulse into overdrive. Once, as we waited to turn our basket out of the end of an aisle, he stopped directly behind me. I figured he would have stepped back another step when he realized I’d stopped. Instead, he put both hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently in an almost-massage as he craned over me to look both directions before nudging me forward.

He doesn’t think he can do this anymore, but he seems so natural like this.

Storage space was plentiful in the SUV, and once all of our stuff was loaded in the back, we buckled back up in front. My shoulders sagged as I realized the uncertainty was setting back in, nearly palpable as we skittishly glanced at each other.

Bucky pushed his right sleeve up, grumbling about the heat. But all I could focus on was the definition of veins in his forearm and the back of his right hand. Why did I feel the urge to bite my lip?

I shook my head and tuned back into my surroundings just as Bucky was asking, “Why’d she pick Texas, anyway? It’s a million degrees down here.”

“Because it’s where I’m from.”

He stopped and looked at me blankly. “You’re… from here?”

I nodded. “This is where my dad was from. I lived a few counties over until I was eight. Then, after dad died… Mom moved us back up to New York.”

His eyes took on that sympathetic, faraway look he’d gotten the night I’d told him my whole personal history. The metal fingers of his left hand twitched, and I wondered for a moment if he was going to hug me again, if he would reach out and take my hand. But the look in his eye faded, and he nodded slowly.

“Makes sense, then.”

I ignored the desire to either wilt in disappointment or let loose a sigh from the depths of my soul. We had frozen stuff to get to a freezer and breakfast to cook.

BUCKY

I fabricated some general maintenance tasks to take care of on the motorcycle after we’d gotten all of the stuff inside and put away. I felt guilty leaving her to cook breakfast herself, but she and Sam had been fairly adamant that no one on the team but the two of them were allowed behind a stove. I was pretty sure that was the kind of edict that didn’t change no matter how many state lines we crossed. Plus, I was a coward.

So I tinkered around with the motorcycle, just working myself in a tiny circle while I fixated on things like the way she’d smiled at me in the store earlier. Why was it so much easier to feign intimacy with her than it was to exist normally around her?

Things have always been too easy with her. Not our relationship, but things between us.

Our circumstances had changed and evolved slowly over time, and we’d had more than our fair share of friction and arguments… but she’d never stopped feeling like home to me. She was still the only person who made me feel fully comfortable. Pretending otherwise was taking a toll on me.

I rubbed a hand over my forehead, wishing Aspirin was strong enough to work on a super soldier’s metabolism.

“Hey,” a quiet voice said from behind me.

I’d heard her footsteps, but waited until she spoke to turn to her.

Her hair had been piled up on top of her head, elastic-ed into place, presumably to keep it out of her way while she cooked. She stood with her arms crossed, wearing the same thin white T-shirt and jeans she’d had on grocery shopping, but her face was more closed off. Her hazel eyes were guarded, her jaw firm. Not pissed. But definitely not happy.

“Breakfast is ready.”

I glanced away and nodded. “Yeah. Be there in a sec.”

She hesitated for only a second before turning away without another word. I waited until I heard the door of the cabin close behind her again to slam my forehead down in agitation on the metal fender of the bike. Three times.

“Shit,” I grumbled under my breath when I lifted my head and saw the small crater I’d made in the bike’s body. I sighed and flexed my vibranium fingers once or twice before shoving my left hand beneath the metal plate and gently bending it back into place. “Good as new.”

I stood and pulled the rag from my pocket, wiping oil off of my hands as I made my way inside.

Indy was already sitting at the table with her legs folded beneath her in her chair. She barely looked up when I walked in, a mug of coffee steaming between her hands, and inclined her head silently toward the kitchen. A pan of scrambled eggs, a plate of bacon, and a tray of biscuits made my mouth water as I scrubbed the last of the dirt and oil from my hands, taking extra care with my left hand.

Once I’d sat down with a plate of food and my own cup of coffee, I’d thought she would look up again, speak to me, something.Instead, she continued eating in absolute quiet. It was hard to eat with my stomach anxiously convulsing on itself.

When I was done eating, I stood and took my dishes to the sink. Indy stayed seated at the table, staring out of the window unblinkingly. I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered if I even wanted to know.

I washed my dishes and set them out to dry before making the decision to approach her.

“You done, Doll?”

She didn’t look up at me, didn’t push her plate toward me, didn’t move. “Why do you call me that?”

“What?”

“Doll,” she said quietly, looking up at me then with an inscrutable look in her eyes. “You never called me that before that mission in Romania. Why do you call me that?”

I felt my ears growing warmer. “It’s just a nickname, Indy.”

“Nicknames have meaning,” she said firmly, standing from her chair so that she stood just a few steps before me. “You once asked me why I called you Sarge. I answered you. Now it’s your turn. Why do you call me Doll?”

I glanced away from her, casting about for any answer that wasn’t the complete truth. But she wasn’t having that.

“Don’t do that again,” she said heatedly, taking a step toward me. “Don’t shut me out because you don’t want to tell me what you’re really thinking, Bucky. Just tell me the truth.”

The truth.

There was too much of the truth to tell her. So I stuck with the simplest answer, meeting her eye even though it hurt because she deserved that much.

“You are… precious to me,” I answered in an undertone.

Her throat moved in a swallow and I had to fight myself not to rush forward and do something animalistic. She took another step forward, and I instinctively took one back. She couldn’t hide the flash of hurt that shot across her face. Hurt and confusion.

I grimaced regretfully and shook my head, looking up at her apologetically. “Indy, I can’t-”

“No,” she said, tears glittering like jewels across her eyelid. “I thought you couldn’t, but that’s not it. You won’t.”

I opened my mouth to counter her, but the words wouldn’t come. Even my own tongue agreed with her.

“Indy, I have to protect you. The only thing that can happen here is you getting hurt.”

I’d expected those tears to fall, maybe a wistful look, before she ran sobbing away from me. But no. She was livid. Her eyebrows drew together and her mouth dropped open, an angry expression of disbelief.

“This is all because I’m not as durable as you?!” I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard her raise her voice so loudly.

I shook my head, trying to backtrack. “No, not because of that. I just… I can’t be the one responsible for you getting hurt. You don’t know what that would do to me.”

“I know it would be a hell of a lot easier to ‘protect me’ if you weren’t so damn scared to get close to me,” she said scathingly, crossing her arms tightly again.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Nodded. “You’re right.”

Her surprise barely registered on her face. “What?”

“You’re right,” I shrugged, letting the fight run out of me as I took one step toward her. She looked me up and down like she thought I was playing some game with her. “I am scared. I’m scared of the things you make me feel. The things you make me think. I’m scared of the effect you have on me and I’m so goddamn scared that one day something will happen to you. Maybe I wake up and another hundred years will have gone by and you’re just… gone. Maybe Hydra catches up with us and hurts you. Maybe-" I stopped and swallowed down the terror leaking into my voice. "Maybe I hurt you.”

A single tear dripped down her cheek, but she tightened her jaw like she was trying to stay strong against me, even raised her chin a little.

“Even if that doesn’t happen, you…” I lowered my gaze to the floor and sighed. “You don’t understand how important you are to me. I can’t have you. Not the way I want to. Everything I touch…” I shook my head and looked down at my left hand, metal digits reflecting the sunlight coming in through the window. “I break everything I touch.”

She took another step forward and then, when I didn’t retreat again, another.

“Bucky,” she breathed tremulously. “Please. Stop.”

I looked up at her, only now aware that I had tears of my own in my eyes, blurring my view of her face.

“You can’t tell me all of this,” she said, her face contorted in sadness and pain. “I wanted to be mad at you, damn it.”

She reached out and grabbed my shirtfront, pulling me until she could wrap her arms around my neck, standing on her toes to reach.

I wound my arms fully around her waist, closing my eyes as my breathing deepened. The scent of coconut shampoo filled my senses, soothing my heart that ached with every beat.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair, squeezing her body to mine desperately.

She didn’t answer at first, her fingers spreading through my hair as she held the back of my head.

“Someday, Bucky, I am going to die. When that day comes, you’re either going to have a lot of happy memories to look back on… or you’re going to have to go on knowing you could have had this — for whatever time it lasts for — and refused to take it.”

My hands tightened into fists at the thought, a thick blockage of tears in my throat now. She scratched her nails lightly against my scalp a time or two before pulling her hand away, stepping back, and looking up at me with tragic, watery eyes.

“You have some stuff to figure out,” she said, glancing away and stuffing her hands in her pockets. “And I have work that needs to be done. Come find me if you…” she trailed off, shaking her head and looking more than a little hopeless. She eventually sighed and met my eyes one more time briefly before walking out of the cabin and heading toward the workshop.

INDY

The workshop was well-stocked with basics, but I was grateful for my own foresight when I’d packed my equipment the night we’d fled New York. A lot of things were usable, but fairly outdated. This cabin clearly wasn’t used much.

Tinkering with some of the tech I’d hauled along with us helped me distract myself from Bucky and all the tumultuous emotions that seemed to overpower us both lately. After a half-hour of fiddling with screws and circuits and tiny manifolds, I’d almost forgotten about him and the tears I’d wiped away when I’d come in here.

It’s been over a year since I’ve actually built tech.

I’d stopped having time for it once I’d taken over the team. The job was more reliant on hacking, coding, things like that. I’d forgotten how simple, how relaxing it could be. Just sticking things together experimentally and hoping they worked. Forcing them to, if need be.

It made me think of Tony. The times we spent in his “lab”, upgrading and repairing Iron Man suit after Iron Man suit. He’d lob freeze-dried fruits in the air and I’d try to catch them in my mouth. I’d tease him for the bit of gray beginning to show in his beard, and he’d shove my head away with a frown. And at the end of the workday, he’d groan loudly and throw his head back.

“I’m starving. What’s open right now?”

“Well, it’s only 4 pm, Boss — so just about everything, I think.”

“Oh good. We’re going for tappas, then. Get your coat.”

I glanced warily into the corner of the shop. The box with my name scrawled across it in Tony’s truly terrible handwriting looked almost… hidden-away. And maybe it kind of was. I wasn’t ready to see what was in it. I’d only just started coming to grips with the idea that he hadn’t really blamed me for what happened during the Avengers’ “breaking up the band” phase. What if what he’d left me contradicted that? What if it didn’t? I wasn’t sure either way, but I knew one thing. I’d had far too much emotional and physical turmoil over the last few days to be prepared for opening that box.

My cuts and scrapes were healing well, but still very visible. The bruising of my ribs was painful enough that I had to hide a grimace of pain every time I twisted or bent down. And my heart? It had basically been put into a blender, pulled out and half-healed, then thrown into a trash compactor. I was in no condition to be opening boxes from dead father figures. So I sighed and turned away from it, turning the brightness up on my headlamp as I tweaked the angle of some circuit housing.