BUCKY

Life was good. Damn good. For the first time since the 40s, I was waking up with a grin, ready to face each day. Because every morning when I stepped out of my room, I’d find a sweet, warm smile on a beautiful face. And it was for me. Just me.

We started going dancing more often. Indy taught me how to line dance, but - while I loved watching her shuffle her booted feet around the floor like the little hick I’d never realized she was - I still much preferred holding her close to me, swaying easily to slow country songs.

During the days, Indy worked in the shop on things I had no name for and I was usually outside, either doing yard work or writing things down in a worn out notebook — things that I didn’t want to ever forget. I’d stopped doing it for a while; it had seemed slightly morbid to continue, like I was just expecting to get taken away again. But there were things I wanted to be sure weren’t lost in that eventuality.

She shrieks my name every time I lift her up when she isn’t expecting it. I can’t get enough of it, so I carry her like a princess every chance I get.

She has twelve freckles across her right shoulder. I like to kiss them when she’s facing away from me.

Her smile is just slightly uneven. It pulls up further on the left side than the right. It makes her look roguish and adorably troublesome. Proper advertising, I’d say.

Maybe it’s because of her constant typing, but her fingers can’t sit still. She’s always playing with my hair (I love that) or fiddling with my fingers (metal or flesh, doesn’t seem to matter to her) or just dragging her fingertips across my skin, light as a feather. It tickles a little, but I’m not going to tell her that.

I’m in love with her.

I’d written those words before I could stop myself. For so long, I had avoided that word. That specific truth. Because before, it wasn’t a possibility — at least, not one I was willing to entertain. It would have hurt too much to admit to; to open Pandora’s box and not be able to stop thinking I love you every time she glanced my way.

I stared down in horror at the words I’d written, my heart pounding like a war drum. I loved her. My fake wife. My very dear friend. And suddenly, I felt the familiar and insistent need to see her. I snapped the notebook shut and stowed it away before making my way into the doorway of the workshop. I hesitated when I heard a man’s voice drifting through the slight opening.

“So, I guess if you’re seeing this… I managed to successfully manipulate the fabric of space and time. No big deal.”

I leaned around the open door. Indy was sitting on a rolling stool with her back to me, staring up at a hologram of Tony Stark. The box Pepper had sent with us was sitting next to her, its top flipped open. The phantom Tony bent double, apparently taking a seat on something that didn’t manifest in the hologram. His eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at his hands dangling between his knees.

“I miss you, kid. No one else remembers what I like from that Thai place. And Dum-E doesn’t listen to me like he does to you.” He paused, rolled his eyes. “Did.”

The few times I’d met the man, he’d been either trying to kill me or making snarky comments and living up to his public image. But I had seen him like this once, somber and hurting, when he’d learned my part in his parents’ deaths and realized the depth of Steve’s allegiance to me. Indy really was like family to him. It shouldn’t have surprised me. She had a talent for endearing herself to difficult people.

“I’m going to get you back,” he said, looking up with a fire in his eyes that was obvious even through this flimsy apparition. “You. Barton’s family. Fury. Everyone.”

Indy sniffled a little.

“I know, there at the end, we had some… disagreements. We never actually talked about it. Neither of us is very good at talking about difficult things. Not like normal people do — patiently. Without the need for superhuman complications. I know you did what you did for Rogers and Barnes because you thought it was right. And it turns out… you were right. The student becomes the master.” He waved a lazy hand, smiling down at her with a hint of pride that made her shoulders shake silently.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away. But that’s what I did. Didn’t I? I got you that job working for Fury because I thought it would keep you afloat. Keep you busy enough not to notice that I’d stepped back. I wish I hadn’t. But I’m going to fix it. I, uh- I have a daughter now. Me and Pep. She’s gonna blow her top when she realizes you’re a real person and not just some AI that used to help me before she was born.”

He paused, chuckling softly. Then his face grew serious again, just a bit of sadness, a bit of determination in his eyes.

“I might make things worse, doing this. Probably will. But I’ve gotta try. I can’t wait to see you again, Indy.”

The hologram froze just as he was standing up and moving past whatever had recorded his message.

Indy’s head dropped, quiet sobs bubbling out as she shoved her palms to her eyes. I dithered in the doorway for a minute before taking a few slow steps into the shop. She didn’t look up, but when I crouched down beside her stool and put my hand on her leg, her head whipped up in shock. Her tear-filled eyes locked on me slowly, then she sobbed again and threw her arms around me, crying into my shoulder. I pulled her gently off the stool and into my arms, cradling the back of her head. Every few minutes, I kissed her temple and whispered, “I’m here.”

I remembered when I’d first seen her really cry like this; around the holidays when Sam and I had found her drunk and wailing over a book on grief. I remembered how lost I had been. Sam had been able to offer comfort so naturally, talking nonchalantly with soft words that weren’t laced with pity, but support. I’d been jealous of it, not that I’d realized that at the time. I had hovered uncertainly and scrambled to find my own way to help.

Now, after so short a time, it was second-nature. Only a half-year later and I was comforting her without thought, following instincts I didn’t think I’d had anymore. I guess love does change people. I stiffened, my arms tightening around her.

She glanced up, all cried out, but with glossy cheeks and red eyes.

I looked down into her face, stroking the hair back from her forehead.

I love you. So much.

“You feel like doing something tonight?” I asked quietly.

She looked a little confused, the corner of her mouth rising a bit. “Like what?”

I grinned. “It’s a surprise. Don’t worry, it’ll just be you and me.”

She sniffled, but nodded against my shoulder. “Alright. But I’m going to need a nap first. Crying makes my head hurt.”

I chuckled and nodded, hooking my arms beneath her and standing. She was getting used to me carrying her. There was no screech of “Bucky!” But she wrapped her arms around me and nuzzled her face into the bend of my neck, just below my jaw. So it was worth it, anyway.

INDY

The clearing Bucky took me to was wide and open, carpeted with thick grass. We’d left the cabin around sunset and by the time we made it to our destination, the moon had risen high overhead. It was warm still, but a light breeze kept us cool.

“So, what’s in the bag?” I asked, poking Bucky in the side and eying the backpack slung over his shoulder.

He looked down at me and smirked. “Be patient. You’ll see.”

Then he stopped in the center of the clearing, looked around, nodded. He dropped to his knees, setting the backpack on the ground in front of him as I watched on curiously. He started pulling things out. A thick woven blanket that he spread out on the ground. An unmarked white bakery box. A bottle of wine and some flutes.

When he looked up at me with a grin, I was gaping at the sight. He set the backpack aside and grabbed my hand, tugging me to the blanket with him.

“When we first came down here, I missed New York,” he explained. “I grew up in a big city, and it’s bigger now than when I was a kid. I’m kinda used to the noise and the crowds and the tight-packed buildings. But Texas has its advantages.”

He looked up. I did the same. With Bucky’s description of New York fresh in my mind, it made the difference between the sky I’d seen there and the sky I was looking at now more obvious. The lights of New York — as well as the pollution — mostly clouded over the naked eye’s view of the night sky.

Down here, the darkness of the sky stretched on, like a bolt of navy-colored velvet, unobscured. Diamond pinpricks twinkled at us from above, some small as specks, others larger and shining with a soft light like that of the moon. Wispy clouds drifted lazily among them, non-threatening and barely visible.

When I looked back at him, he was already watching me, those stars reflecting in his blue eyes. He lifted his hand, moonlight bouncing off metal, and cupped my cheek.

“Indy,” he murmured, staring into my eyes in a way that made my heart hammer against my ribs. “Can you close your eyes for me?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, but closed my eyes and waited. I heard a faint rustling coming from him after he pulled his hand away from my face. Then the warmth his enhanced body exuded washed over me, his arms coming around my head, over my shoulders. My eyebrows drew together in confusion at the tiny clinking sound near my ears, but I kept my eyes closed.

When he lifted my hair and a thin, cold chain settled against the back of my neck, I shivered. More at the brush of his fingers than the chill metal. His hands settled on my shoulders, sliding slowly down my arms to my hands, which he held tenderly in his own.

“Open ‘em up, Doll.”

I opened my eyes and looked down. I felt my breath stutter below the chain he’d put around my neck.

“Bucky, these are-”

“I know,” he said, looking with a proud smile at his dog tags sitting against my chest. “I want you to hold on to them for me.”

“Bucky, I-” I started to protest. These were one of the few things he had left from his time before the Winter Soldier took over his life. Surely he’d want to keep them close.

“Please,” he whispered, leaning in with a calm expression. He was more serene tonight than I think I’d ever known him to be. “I want some part of me to be with you even when I can’t be.”

Again, with the heart-pounding.

I put my hand over the dog tags, holding them to my chest. “I’ll keep them safe.”

He smiled, not looking away from my eyes as he leaned toward me. His lips met mine slowly, leisurely. Here in a moonlit clearing, with only the stars watching us and soft winds surrounding us, we had all the time in the world. His tongue rolled languidly over mine and I brought both hands to his face, running my thumb over the stubble on his jaw, drawing him closer to me. After a few minutes, he broke away, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Let’s not get too distracted,” he chuckled. “There’s still the stars to watch. And we’ve got all night.”

Something about the way he said that made me think of the nights he’d recently spent memorizing every curve and soft spot of my body. The many ways he’d kissed and touched and physically adored me. I covered my blush by grinning and nodding to the wine bottle.

“Get to pourin’, Sarge.”

O o 0 o O

We spent a while laying together, with his arm beneath my head while we watched the stars. We spoke quietly about things we hadn’t had the courage to do before. He told me about the night I’d gone on that date with Dennis McKay and how torturous it had been for him, realizing his feelings and realizing I was so far out of reach. I told him about the night I’d almost kissed him, how blindsided I’d been by my own feelings for him. How scared I’d been that he’d want nothing to do with me after that.

The starlight cast us both in an almost mystical glow, illuminating our eyes as we opened ourselves up to each other, tearing down all of whatever walls had still been up between us.

“This was a good idea, Buck,” I murmured, looking away from the stars and back over at him. “I don’t think a guy has ever put in this much effort for me before.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “You’re worth all of it. And more. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count-”

“You can’t count higher than 32?” I teased, clearly unable to help myself.

He gave me a long-suffering look I hadn’t seen in months, and I sighed, grinning.

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry.”

“I just,” he started slowly, losing focus as he toyed with the edge of my shirt. “You’re always telling me that I deserve better than what was done to me. And I feel - have always felt - like you deserved a better hand than you were dealt, too.”

I rolled onto my side, bringing us face-to-face so I could try to read whatever he couldn’t spit out in his eyes.

“I always thought I was… well, the worst option possible for you, really,” he scoffed and ran his thumb along the seam at my shirt’s hem. “But now that we’re… whatever we are now… I want to give you the things I think you deserve, the way you always have for me. I want us to do that… together.”

He kept his eyes trained on his fingers. My shirt.

“What is it you’re asking for here, exactly?” I asked, my pulse beating through every point of my body.

He lifted his eyes, scanned my face unreservedly, the way he had been more and more frequently lately. Like he was memorizing every line and plane. His mouth quirked up into a confident smirk, but his blue eyes were heart-breaking, gazing at me with earnest devotion.

“I’m asking my fake wife to be my real girlfriend.”

Did I really need to answer? He made me happy. Happier than I ever would have assumed he could make me. He cared about me, so much I could feel it when he looked at me that way. I cared about him just as much. And what he was offering was what I’d been wanting for a long time now. The chance to even the scales. To give him some of the happiness that was robbed from him. Apparently, I was what made him happy.

“Yes,” I whispered, leaning up to brush my lips against his.

I wasn’t sure I would ever get used to the way his hands felt on me, the paradoxically firm but gentle hold he took on me. Like he couldn’t bear to have me further away, but was holding back from really gripping me the way his instincts were telling him to.

We hadn’t talked much about New York. Or returning to it. I think the length of our internment here was depressing to us both. We were finding our own kind of solace in it, though. In these moments when we could just focus on us, the way we never could when work was getting in the way. But it was nice to know that this would be coming back with us.

When his vibranium hand slid beneath my shirt, along my belly, it was with the ease and familiarity bred by our weeks of nearly unfettered intimacy. He knew exactly which spot to kiss on my neck. Just when to lift my shirt and take my breasts in his hands.

I pushed my luck, unsure if I should still be hoping for more when what he gave me was already so much. I kicked my leg over his hip and rolled over the top of him, taking his ear lobe into my mouth as I centered my hips over the stiff bulge in his pants. He groaned in a strangled sort of way and his hands convulsed, fingers digging into my hips.

Usually, about now, he would sigh and slow me down, shifting me off his lap and into his arms. Not this time. His fingers found the button of my jeans, worked it open while I lifted his shirt off of him, exposing scars and muscles and metal. I started to run my hands up his shoulders, to his hair, but he surprised me by flipping us around, leaning over the top of me as I lay on my back.

“Good thing I brought this,” he murmured, kissing my cheek as he reached into the discarded backpack he’d brought with us. When he removed his hand, he was holding a thick sheet.

I looked from it to him. “Is tonight… the night?” I asked, cautiously hopeful.

He set the sheet down next to me and took my face in his hands, elbows on either side of my head. He leaned in to kiss me, but hovered just an inch away.

“Only if you’re ready, too,” he breathed, his lower lip brushing mine as he spoke.

“I’m ready.” Oh, God, am I ready.

His hand disappeared inside his backpack again, retrieving a small square package. The image of Bucky ripping a condom open with his teeth made me clench my thighs together. I could already feel wetness gathering between them. He leaned back a bit, strong hands grabbing suggestively at the button and zipper of his jeans.

I nearly bit through my lip as he dragged the zipper down, pulled his jeans down his hips, then started lowering his boxers.

“Holy shit,” I exhaled sharply.

“What?” he asked, head snapping up, blue eyes wide with fear.

“No, no. Nothing,” I said hastily, sitting up to bring myself closer to him. I ran a hand down his arm. “You’re just… wow. Very big.”

He looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I wasn’t always. I mean, not that I was small, ever, I just… the serum…”

I frowned and pulled him to me by the back of the neck. I held his head against my shoulder for a moment, until the tension left his shoulders, before letting my hands wander.

My hand nearly couldn’t fit around him. He let out a laborious breath against the side of my neck when I closed my fingers around his length. His hands started gently pulling my unfastened clothes off of me, his breathing growing shallower as I pumped my hand slowly down on him.

“That feels…” his voice wavered, the most unstable I’d ever heard it. “I haven’t… Jesus, Indy.”

He stripped my clothes away almost lazily, eyes hooded and jaw tensing. I laid back on the blanket again, letting Bucky pull his pants the rest of the way off, slide the condom on, and drape the sheet over us as he nudged my legs open with his knees. He looked down at me for a moment, just… watching me.

I squirmed a little. “Bucky?”

He reached down and ran a finger over his dog tags, resting in the space between my boobs. “Can you call me by my name? My first name?”

I don’t know why that made me feel something. It was a normal enough request. Maybe because I was always avoiding my given name, and he was trying to reclaim his. Maybe because there was a note of desperation in his voice, like I was the only one who could give that back to him.

“James,” I murmured, pulling him by the arm till he settled firmly over the top of me.

“Say it again,” he whispered against my collarbone, slotting his hips between mine. I could feel him, the thick press of him against my core.

“James.”

“One more time.” His voice was growing tense, nearly breaking as he slid himself upward, gathering slick along his shaft before I felt the head of him press against my entrance.

“Ja-ames!” I whined, gripping his shoulders for dear life as he drove his hips slowly forward.

The stretch was more than I was expecting, but not in an unpleasant way. After a moment, he stopped easing himself in with sharp breaths in and out through his nose, looking down into my eyes with wonder, and maybe a little concern. His right hand held my head like it was something precious. His left hand held my hip like it was something vital.

“Are you okay?”

I fought to control my own breathing, only then realizing how labored it had grown as I adjusted to his size.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Can you take more?”

“There’s more?”

He chuckled, nudging the underside of my jaw with his nose. “Not much. Promise.”

That… just that was enough to have me wiggling further onto him, drawing a groan from him that echoed across our little clearing. I only became aware of our surroundings again long enough to notice that the fireflies had come out. I was quickly distracted again by Bucky’s last small push into me, now fully sheathed.

“Finally,” he rasped in a voice I barely recognized. A voice that made a soft mewl of pleasure rise from my throat. “You have no idea-”

He dragged himself back slowly, and I almost wept at the loss of contact. But his hips whipped forward again, sharp, but obviously controlled by the thick veins standing out along the sides of his neck.

“-how long I’ve wanted this.”

His warm right hand slid to my inner thigh, gently squeezing and lifting, cupping the back of my knee against his hip as he managed to slide himself further inside me. I let out a harsh moan, head tipping back as his teeth nipped at my neck.

“Fuck- Bucky-” I wasn’t sure what I was trying to tell him, but I was practically sobbing when he picked up the pace, rocking gently forward with deep, measured thrusts. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted, squeezing me tighter as he rested his face in my hair. “Never.”

For a man of his age, and with all the years he’d gone without being touched intimately, he managed an enviable amount of time holding his own climax off to feel me tightening around him a couple of times before he finally hissed out a breath against my lips.

“Yes, James,” I keened, forcing my hips to meet his so I could feel every inch of him swell and pulse inside me. His arms were almost painfully tight around me, but I would have let Bucky kill the man who tried to pry us apart now.

When his body stopped its slow grind into me, his arms lost some of their tension, and… he cried. I felt his tears against my neck, near his dogtags. For a moment, I was horrified. Had I just inadvertently traumatized him more?

But when he drew himself up, looking down at me with wet eyelashes around his gorgeous eyes, there was a smile on his face. His shoulders were shaking with near silent laughter. Something about it was… cathartic. And why shouldn’t it be? The guy was having post-nut clarity for the first time in close to a century.

As sex-fogged as my own mind was, I don’t know what my face looked like then. Or my hair, for that matter - we were just lying on a blanket in a field in Texas. We were both panting, skin and hair sweat-slicked. The fireflies had been undisturbed by our volume and, along with the stars, provided a soft, romantic ambiance. A perfect time for me to realize something I probably should have realized a long time ago.

I’m in love with him…. Aren’t I?

The thought drifted through my mind bemusedly while I used my thumbs to wipe away his tears, the way he’d once done for me. He looked into my eyes with enough power to stop and restart my heart all at once, then leaned in and kissed me just as fully and passionately as he had the very first time.

Yes. I’m in love with him.