Bedtime Shorts

As both you and your date exit the venue of a distant friend’s reception, you find yourself in the driver’s seat humming to the radio. The scenery of mountains wraps around you in the first half of the drive while both you and Bucky find the peaceful rumble of music enough to relax on your way home, needing the comfortable recharge after the party of people. Singing along to the lyrics of your favorite album brings giggles from your chest as Bucky takes his solo and you catch a glimpse of a gas station up the road. 

The song finishes as you pull the car into the station and Bucky raises an eyebrow to the nearly full tank of gas.

You chuckle softly in your explanation, "We don’t need anything - I just have got to fix how I’m sitting. This seat does not pair well with this freaking dress.” As you park near the edge of the lot, you quickly exit the car and readjust the dress and grab a spare blanket from the rear seat. Laying the blanket out on the leather creates a barrier between your thighs from pooling more sweat than necessary in the summer heat. 

Bucky watches in amusement as you hop back in, holding the blanket still so it doesn’t slide around as you adjust yourself to drive again. “I can drive if you want me to.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah and then get us lost. I’m fine with driving, the seat is just sticky, ya know? Thick thighs and all.” You wiggle and point to your lap with another small laugh, making a joke to avoid the slight embarrassment from being uncomfortable after the short drive from the venue to this pit stop. 

Bucky nods and unbuckles his seatbelt, answering you before you get to question him. “You may not want anything, but I’m definitely taking advantage of this.” He dances his eyebrows at you before hopping out and running into the small storefront full of snacks and sweets. 

You settle back, still adjusting the dress and the shorts underneath it to better cover the surface of the seat along with the blanket that had slid from the side you entered without Bucky to hold it. While waiting on Bucky’s return you pull the visor down and run a finger under your eyes, attempting to smudge away the mascara that had slowly smudged its way down during the humid ceremony. As you stare in the mirror you notice more small imperfections from your makeup to your hair and fidget with them until the passenger door opens. 

You turn to see Bucky with a bag of snacks and two huge plastic cups filled to the dome with slushie. “Oh gods, what did you get? We are, like, thirty minutes from the house at most!” You gawk at his childish grin as he settles back in the car with the bag at his feet, offering you the slushie from his right hand. 

Bucky shrugs, “Ah, ya know. Just some snacks.”

“Sir, that is a whole grocery bag full of snacks. I don’t think I’ve ever walked out of a gas station with a bag of snacks for a thirty minute drive. I don’t think I’ve done that ever, actually.” You shake your head in laughter, accepting the drink. 

He clicks his tongue, “Dramatic.”

The two of you laugh as you get settled for the rest of the journey home. As you’re setting your phone on it’s stand and allowing the music to connect to the car again, you catch a glimpse of a stranger passing your car on the way to theirs. Their facial expression unapproving as they pass, unaware you’re watching them. 

Time slows for just a moment as your brain processes the conclusion they’ve made as Bucky (happy as a child with his snacks) sits beside you shoveling through his armful of treasure - and you, sitting disheveled from hours in a humid building for a wedding you were questioning going to, red from the sweat, make up showing the good time you had, and the pudge from your natural body pressing against the dress that fit perfect before having two meals in the past twelve hours. 

The stranger watches as you sit beside a wall of muscle, who exited a gas station to enter a car with a woman - opposite of his every definition - with a bag of sweet and salty snacks and two large vessels of flavored ice. The stranger had assumed they were all for you, that you were requesting these viscous mounds of goodies to tide a craving and somehow made this wall of man, who clearly you could not deserve, fetch them for you. 

In the three seconds where this becomes your reality, you lose all playfulness remaining and start the car, politely refusing the small piece of candy offered to you by the still giddy man beside you. You turn the music up once more before pulling back onto the road. Two songs and nearly five snacks later, Bucky has downed his entire slushie and is working on the one you haven’t touched as he settles back into his seat, sighing in content.

You side eye him with a smile, “Feel better?”

Bucky taps his tummy and hums happily, “Mhm!”

Another song passes without your chorus and Bucky turns the music down to a soft level. You watch the road, seeing out of the corner of your eye his stare settling on you. 

After a moment you ask, “Can I help you?”

Bucky’s voice is soft, “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you?” You chuckle at his random compliment, signaling the car to move into a different lane. As you turn your head to the right to check the clear lane you see Bucky is still staring at you, causing another laugh as your attention stays on the road ahead of you. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“Right now?” You giggle, “Because I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

A near whisper comes from your right, almost a secret leaving unattended. “Forever.”

“Well, I know I’m incredibly attractive-” You attempt to chide him but he cuts you off.

“I love you.” Bucky affirms honestly.

You knit your brows, “I love you, too. Are you okay?”

“You won’t sing any songs since we stopped. Are you hungry?” Bucky reaches for the bag and pulls out two options. 

Smiling at his offer, you shake your head, “No, I’m not hungry.” You pat his hand, “I’m alright. Just tired.”

He holds your hand, still watching your face as you drive and turn up the music again. You even sing the next song with him to ease his tension. Bucky falls back into the rhythm of singing horribly out of tune and off beat until you pull in front of the navy blue house on the street that’s been yours for two years. 

As you unbuckle Bucky grabs both the snack bag and your purse from beside his feet and meets you at the driver door, opening it for you. As you pull yourself out of the car the familiar feeling of leather to skin pulls at the back of your thighs and a near defeated sigh escapes. You take Bucky’s always-extended hand and fully stand, glancing at the black leather left behind on the edge as the blanket you had attempted to use as a shield faltered, leaving an imprint of your thighs and a mark of sweat from where you sat that quickly evaporated as you stared.

Bucky’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he pushes beside you, reaching in the car over the driver's seat, “Oh! Don’t want to forget the cups. And I’m still finishing this one since ya don’t want it.” He attempts a silly voice and scrunched face, teasing you about not enjoying the treat he so happily brought you, knowing this was your favorite flavor. 

Having the seat stick to your thighs once more was the final straw after the reminder of a stranger's eyes and opinions upon the pair of you. You purse your lips in a nod as a response to Bucky and make your way towards the house, the sound of a car door behind you followed by rushed steps.

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry,” Bucky runs between you and the door as you unlock it, “What did I do?” He searches your face for an answer.

You raise your hands, taking a breath, “You didn’t do anything. I’m a bit upset right now. I just need a minute, okay?” 

He nods and holds the door for you, hanging your bag and keys in their respective places as he removes himself to the kitchen. You climb the stairs to the bedroom, slowly removing the dress, shorts, spanx, and makeup. As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, you stare blankly at yourself before painting the blank canvas in pajamas and returning downstairs.

Entering the kitchen means finding Bucky at the counter, slowly picking at another bag of chips and finishing the slushie as he waits for you to come back. 

Hearing you enter, he lifts his head with a soft smile, “Hey, pretty lady. We feeling better?”

You think for a moment, taking the time to cross the floor and sit beside him on a stool, stealing a chip from his bag. You lick the dryness of your lips, “No, not any better. Less mad,” You nod, “But not better.” You shake your head. 

Bucky nods slowly, “Walk me through it?” He sits and watches you, even if your eyes can’t find his yet.

You take a breath, refusing to allow the knot in your throat to get the better of you, “Sometimes I forget,” another breath, “I forget that other people watch us - they have opinions and stuff, ya know?” 

His brows pull together, “Yeah, I forget that too.”

“Right.” The chip you stole lays in your fingertips and is returned to the counter with a reserved exhale. “I watched someone, at the gas station, watch you run out of that little shop with a bag full of sugar and hop back in the car with me.”

Bucky’s head slightly turns to the side, trying to understand what this stranger assumed. “You think they saw me bring you a bunch of snacks?” 

You nod, winning the staring contest with the bowl of fruit on the island. 

“I think people make a lot of wrong assumptions about us.” 

You nod once more.

He clarifies, “I think people see this drop-dead gorgeous woman who is incredibly bubbly, and kind, selfless, a woman who takes over any room she enters and lights the whole place up.”

A giggle escapes form the tightness in your chest as he continues, his smile slightly dropping, “And then they see this big old brooding man who can’t socialize to save his life, looks like he would murder anyone who says hello incorrectly, has a whole ass metal arm, and latches onto this light of a person like a moth.”

You laugh again at his words, “That makes no sense. They see your entirely defined body compared to my smooshy one and assume the wrong thing.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow as you finally turn towards him, “And what exactly are they assuming? That you used your evil little ways to convince a muscular man to find softness attractive? Or that something’s wrong with me so you take advantage of that? Because I don’t see how anyone could look at the pair of us and assume I’m not the one keeping you held captive.” 

You both laugh at the realization, “We are both going to assume that those stares are directed at our horrible sides.” Bucky highlights the truth, “But that's rarely ever the case for what’s going on. I can guarantee that guy at the gas station watched me, a big man with a metal arm, spend fifty bucks on snacks and was very concerned for my health, not who I was in the car with.”

“Fifty dollars?!” you gaped, shocked. 

Bucky shushed you, “I don’t think that’s what you should’ve taken from that sentence.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the chip off the counter once more. “It’s incredibly hard to feel like I deserve this sometimes, like I deserve you.”

Bucky’s eyes trace your face before replying, “Why? Because your thighs stick to the seat?” 

You huff, realizing how ridiculous it sounds when said aloud, “Yeah, because my thighs stick to the seat.”

“Well,” Bucky rests his chin on your shoulder, “I very much enjoy your thighs. And I can order seat covers.” 

You laugh as you pop the chip into your mouth and Bucky’s beard scratches your face as he places a kiss. “Gee, thanks.”

He smiles, “Would you and your thighs like to go watch a movie where you will most definitely fall asleep in the first five minutes?” He squishes your leg as he stands, reaching for the chips again.

“Of course, but I think maybe we listen to the assumptions of the gas station man and keep the chips away from you, heathen.”

After ten minutes of fighting over a movie, Bucky settles on your choice and you slip into a dream before even meeting the main character.