BUCKY

Two weeks seemed to fly by, even though each hour I spent with Indy felt like it dragged on. It was like time was hoping I’d finally give in and slowed to a crawl to ensure it. Part of me was hoping the same.

When we went into public, we were all over each other. Hand in hand, smiling and hugging and touching. When we were at home, we were subdued and distant from each other. It wasn’t at all a healthy situation. I could see the misery, the beaten-down hope in her eyes every time she looked at me. I know she caught me staring mournfully after her a time or two, as well.

I was torn between wishing she was still romantically oblivious to me and my feelings, and selfishly loving the idea that she was thinking about me in the next room, too. I wanted her affection, her care, her attention… I just wanted her. And the longer we stayed here with no word from the team and no sign of having been followed by Hydra, the more I was growing to wonder whether I shouldn’t just give in and let us both have what we wanted. She’d told me to come find her when I was ready… I was nearly certain I was ready. Her words replayed in my head way too often.

One day, Bucky, I am going to die.

She was right, of course. She always was. It was irritating, but it was part of why I needed her. The thought of living on without her — without knowing everything about her, feeling every inch of her body, seeing her come undone for me, holding her close to me for more than just one night or one trip into a populated area — it was killing me.

I was laying in bed close to midnight, considering it for what must have been the dozenth time that evening when I heard Indy’s bedroom door fly open, her light footsteps stumbling into the bathroom, a deep, echo-y retch. I stood from my bed, pulled a shirt and pair of pants on, and stepped out of my room cautiously.

Indy was kneeling in front of the toilet, bare legs bent around it below a pair of black underwear. Her face was pale and already looked clammy, cheeks slightly pinched. She held her hand against her forehead and her shoulders heaved with effort as she vomited.

I took a step into the bathroom, ignoring the smell. Leaning down next to her, I put my hand on her back, just between her shoulder blades. She blinked sluggishly over at me and groaned, trying weakly to shove me in the chest with one flimsy hand. I just raised an eyebrow at her.

“Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I can-” A small heave. “-I can be sick on my own. Been doing it since I was a kid. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and you shouldn’t have had to do it then,” I said in a harsher voice than I meant to.

I never told her exactly how much her story of her childhood had affected me. How furious I’d been with a woman I’d never met, only seen in the picture that was now trashed in the rubble that was Indy’s office. Looking back on them, so many things about Indy made sense after hearing it all. Her stubborn refusal to cry in front of people. The carefully-neutral-bordering-on-cynical view she took on most major holidays. Her tendency to work herself to death without asking for help. My guess was, if she’d ever asked for help as a kid, she’d never gotten it. The idea of Indy, small and alone and sick, made me want to storm back up the country and make her mother answer for the hell she’d put her daughter through.

I frowned sternly as I rubbed my hand in a small circle on her back, but when I spoke again, my voice was soft. “You’re not a little kid with no one around to help you anymore, Indy. Let me help you.”

She threw up a couple more times, but didn’t try to make me leave again. When she seemed to be finished, I went and got her a glass of water, wet down a washcloth, and started gently wiping the sweat from her forehead and neck.

“You gonna be okay?” I asked quietly, running the washcloth down the back of her neck one more time.

She shivered lightly and nodded. Her voice was hoarse and thin. “Probably just… food poisoning or something.”

“Here.” I held my hand out to her. “I’ll help you back to bed.”

Her hand felt horribly light and shaky in mine. I led her slowly to her bed, settled her back in, and pulled the blanket back over her. I set her glass of water on the bedside table and was standing there, hesitant to leave her, when she looked up at me with feverish eyes.

“Would you stay? Here. Just for a bit. Please?”

She’d never sounded so small.

I found myself smiling a little. “Yeah. Alright, scoot over.”

She moved over, and I slid in next to her. She immediately grabbed my right arm, pulling it against her chest as she closed her eyes. Her cheek rested against my bicep, her body shivering and curled around my arm like she was trying to leech the warmth from it.

My fingers brushed the skin of her inner thigh and some part of me — the most despicably male part — wanted to enjoy the contact, the softness. But I was too damn worried about her. So I put my hand more firmly on her thigh, hoping it would warm her more quickly, and pulled her blanket up further around us. Just as her shivering began to slow and her breathing was deepening, I turned my head over and kissed her forehead.

“Goodnight, Indy,” I whispered against her head.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. But I think I felt her mouth shift in a tiny smile against my arm.

O o 0 o O

I knew I was dreaming when I looked up and saw Steve leaning against the doorway, a familiar, smug smile on his face.

“Getting cozy with Stark’s shadow?”

I looked down at Indy, asleep with her mouth open and a thin stream of drool leaking onto my chest. I shook my head with a smile and shifted her gently over. She rolled to face the other side of the bed, simultaneously kicking me in the hip. I grimaced and slid out of the bed as quietly as I could before turning to Steve.

A lot of emotions roiled up to the surface. Chiefest among them was nostalgia. The two of us stepped forward slowly, like the old men only one of us got to be, and hugged each other, tightly.

“It’s good to see you,” I grunted, trying not to let the tears in my voice come through.

“You, too, Buck.”

I stepped back and his eyes fell on Indy once more.

“So you and Indy, hm?”

If you could blush in dreams, I certainly was now. I rubbed my hand across my jaw and then the back of my head. “Look, I know, she’s young and all-”

“You think I’d have an issue with that?” Steve asked, smirking again. “I dated during my time in this era. Not a lot, but I’ve still got no room to throw stones.”

I met his eye, somewhat nervously. When had things gotten this way? When had I become the one looking for his approval? I guessed around the time he started being the one to protect me. Maybe that should have incensed something in me, made me feel defensive and emasculated. If it was anyone but him, maybe I would have. Instead, it only made me grateful to have known him.

“You care a lot about her, don’t you?”

I nodded seriously, looking away.

“She’s a good kid,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head, looking at her in all her messy-haired, drool-faced, splayed-limbed glory. “No. She’s an incredible woman.”

“Then why keep doing this to yourself?” He gave me that same tone he was always giving me when he wanted to knock sense into me but physically couldn’t. “Why not just… go for it? The Bucky I knew wouldn’t have wasted a second-”

“Yeah, and the Bucky from back then wouldn’t have treated her half as well as she deserved,” I scoffed uncomfortably.

“I don’t believe that.”

I met his eye then. Familiar eyes. Those of a man I considered a brother. I saw no judgment or derision there. Just confusion and sympathy.

“I’m no good for her, Steve,” I said, finally letting my face show the anguish I felt. “I never have been. And I think I’m probably too old and set in my ways to change that.”

He shook his head, walking around to the foot of the bed, looking down at Indy with a smile. “The girl I knew back then wouldn’t have asked you to stay beside her tonight. She would have kept herself small and quiet and stayed out of your way until she sorted herself out. It’s what she always did. You’re already good for her, Buck.”

I wanted to believe it with everything in me. I clenched my jaw and tried to swallow back the tears trying to work their way back up to my eyes. “How do I do this, Steve?”

He came back to my side, let out a long sigh, and grinned at me. “Take her dancing. You always were smoother with music.”

I huffed out a chuckle and grumbled, “Punk.”

He turned to face the bed again from the doorway, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “Just make sure you’re with her… till the end of the line.”

I smiled at him, squeezing his shoulder before stepping forward and running my knuckle down her freckled cheek. “She is the line, Steve.”

INDY

I felt marginally better when I woke up, but my stomach still felt like it was rolling around inside me, untethered and causing trouble.

Wait, wasn’t Bucky here last night?

I lifted my head to look down at the bed. Sure enough, there was a large man-sized space in the bed next to me. Even through the nausea and the slight headache I could feel setting in, dissatisfaction gnawed at me.

“Hey,” came a quiet voice from the doorway.

I looked up, startled. Bucky was standing there with a tray of plain toast, a small glass of what looked like hot tea, and a bowl of oatmeal.

“Is that for me?” I asked through a rough throat, sitting up a little further on the bed. My stomach tried to flip over on me, but I managed to hold it down as Bucky approached the bed.

He nodded with a brief grin. It was probably the first time in two weeks that we’d looked straight at each other while in the cabin. Lately, we saved all of our closeness for our “married couple” persona.

“Move over,” he said, sliding the tray onto the bedside table. The glass of water I vaguely remembered from last night was gone.

He was fully dressed, and smelled freshly showered, so I guessed he’d been up a while. But he slid back beneath the blanket with me, even pulling me against his side until my head was resting against his shoulder, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. He put his fingers gently beneath my chin and lifted until I was looking right at him.

It wasn’t fever that turned my cheeks red.

Has he always been this… beautiful?

His blue eyes were soft, open, and scanning my face with concern. His lips pulled down only slightly, thin but curved perfectly. I remembered the taste of them, the warmth of his breath in pitch darkness. Dark stubble blanketed the sharp line of his jaw. When he opened his mouth to speak, I was close enough to notice something I never had before. One of his front teeth overlapped the other, just barely. It was a small imperfection, nearly nonexistent. And for some reason, I found it adorable.

“How are you feeling?” His fingers trailed from my chin down the side of my neck.

I had a hard time focusing. “I-I’m… fine for now, I think. Did you stay here with me all night?”

“You asked me to,” he said, like that was all the explanation needed.

My cheeks heated further as the memory swam up through a haze of sickness. I’d practically begged him to stay here with me. “Jesus, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head and closing my eyes in mortification. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I could have gotten you sick.”

“I’m a super soldier, Indy. I’ll be fine. Besides…” his lighthearted smirk pulled down. “You need to learn how to ask for help sometimes.”

I frowned at him, but I was having a hard time hanging onto any irritation with myself or him when his hand was still just stroking my skin, almost without thought. Whatever walls were up between us had been pulled down for now. It surprised me how terrified I was of the next time they went up.

So I slid my arms around his neck and leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his cheek with a sigh. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

“Thank you, Buck.”

His arm tightened around me, his other hand moving into my hair, brushing it back over my shoulder. “Always.”

O o 0 o O

I spent a full day attempting to eat plain food and drink clear liquids. Every now and then, I’d have to run to the bathroom and throw up again. But Bucky was there the whole time, laying in bed beside me, toying with my hair while he distracted me, telling me about things he remembered from the 30s and 40s.

He told me about his mother’s obsession with Cary Grant and the blue dress he remembered her wearing on Sundays. The first time he’d ridden in an automobile, everything outside flying by faster than he’d ever considered possible. Steve’s seemingly inborn skill at punching up and attracting all the wrong attention. Bucky’s own tendency to pull him out of trouble when it happened. He told me about the crush he’d had on Rita Hayworth as a young man and the dances he’d go to with girls whose names and faces he barely remembered now.

“I think you’d have liked it,” he murmured, staring up at the ceiling with his arm crooked around beneath my head so he could run his fingers through my hair. I watched him rapturously, caught up in another time, another version of him. “You’d damn sure have given Howard Stark a run for his money.”

I snorted quietly. “I wouldn’t last a minute without wi-fi.”

He glanced over at me then, a heart-stopping smile on his face, so close to mine. He nudged my hip with his. “I’d have had your back.”

I snickered. “And incur the wrath of your fangirls? I’d be bludgeoned to death in seconds.”

He rolled his eyes, his grin growing. “I think someone — probably Steve — has exaggerated some things.”

I shook my head at him, still smiling.

“Besides, they wouldn’t have held a candle to you, Doll,” he leaned his head back, face serious as he looked affectionately down at me.

My heart thudded in my chest. “Why do you say things like that?” I asked, my eyebrows drawing in as I tried to smile.

“Like what?”

“Things that make me think you’re-” I took a deep breath and shook my head, my heart already sinking in preparation for the shut-down I knew would soon come. “Never mind.”

He shifted lower on the bed, sliding down beside me until he was facing me on his side, pushing his forehead to mine with clear worry showing on his face. His fingers brushed my cheek. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making this easy on you. But I can’t chance hurting you-”

“You’re already hurting me,” I whispered, closing my eyes against tears that sprang up seemingly from nowhere.

He stiffened with a sharp inhale. I couldn’t make myself open my eyes. I couldn’t make my fingers release their grip on his shirt.

Slowly, his arms wound around me, drawing me closer.

“I know,” he mumbled unevenly. “I need-”

He faltered for a moment and I opened my eyes, met with his broken expression.

“I hope you’ll be patient with me,” he said quietly, his eyes finding mine again. “I have to be sure I’m not going to do anything I can’t fix.”

I frowned at him, but nodded. “I know. It’s just hard to feel this way and not have you.”

He looked confused for a split second, and shook his head. “You do have me Indy. You’ve had me since you knocked that beer bottle against my bedroom door a year ago. I was cold and… kind of an asshole to you and you still had my back. Tried to take care of me. I know I’m not explaining this great, but… you’re my line, Doll.”

He said it firmly, looking into my eyes like it was some huge declaration. But I felt my face wrinkle in confusion as I glanced away from him.

“What, like— fishing line?”

He burst into loud, almost hysterical laughter.

I lifted myself onto my elbow and frowned down at him in bewilderment. “Okay, as good as it is to know you haven’t forgotten how to laugh, I’m really lost right now. What’s so funny?”

His laughter subsided slowly, until he was staring up at me with that twinkle in his eye that made his face seem so much more open. He lifted a hand and brushed some of my hair away from my forehead. He was very… affectionate right now. It bothered me that that made me feel wary.

“Go dancing with me,” he murmured in a low voice, his eyes locked distractedly on my lips.

“What?” I was pretty sure I was hearing things, my eyes searching his for some other meaning to the sudden request.

“When you’re feeling better, obviously,” he corrected himself quickly, then he cupped my cheek in his hand. “Let’s go out and try… not to worry about everything for a while.”

The words seemed to take him a lot of effort to get out. Like he was having to overcome some baser instincts to make this concession. Was he really saying what it sounded like? Would he really be able to put his concerns on the back burner long enough to give this a real chance?

I wanted to answer slower, to at least make it seem like it took any forethought on my part. But the idea of him spinning me slowly around a dance floor, his hands on my waist, his eyes on mine beneath low lights… it was a bewitching thought. And I couldn’t have kept the smile off my face if I’d been neck-deep in the toilet bowl again.

“We’ll go dancing, then.” I nodded, laying back down on his chest and looking up at the ceiling with him while he fiddled with a strand of my hair over my shoulder. “But you should know a Texas dance hall might be a bit different from what you’re used to.”

I could almost hear his eyes rolling above me. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”