✮
“Do you trust me?”
Any other human wouldn’t have been able to hear the question, but Bucky does. Yet he doesn’t have time to reply because she’s walking up to him, taking off her jacket and letting hair down and Bucky’s having trouble focusing right then. She grabs fistfuls of his shirt and spins them around before taking the last two steps until her back hits the wall. The feeling of the cold wall against the bare skin on her shoulders makes her gasp, and they’re so close, Bucky practically swallows the sound.
“Don’t freak out,” she pleads in a whisper, grabbing his left hand and wrapping it around her waist, her right one holding onto it, making sure the streetlight wouldn’t reflect on it.
Bucky hears footsteps approaching and he’s the one to lean in, eyes closing and his mouth pressing on hers softly. He can feel her fingers twitching and her heart skipping a beat in surprise before she’s kissing him back.
It’s the oldest trick in the book — the man they’re trying to lose rushes past the alleyway thinking of them as a random couple of drunk kids having some fun and Bucky forces himself to pull away enough to breathe, “Sam, he’s heading straight towards you.”
"Got him,” Sam replies almost immediately.
Her grip on his hand loosens enough to let him know that he’s able to move whenever he’s ready, but he doesn’t. Bucky lingers in her space for a moment, watching her lips with heavy eyes, sending her head spinning. When Bucky finally steps away and silently helps her put on her jacket, he notices her hands are shaking.
He clears his throat and follows behind her as they make their way to the rest of the team.
They don’t talk about it.
✮
"I can do this. And you're the best sniper in the world, so it should be a breeze,” she assures him. “Buck, we can finish this right now. Do you trust me?"
It sounds more like an I trust you and it gets Bucky cursing under his breath. They’re on the second floor, Bucky’s rifle set up by the window, and before he’s even close enough to her, she’s already swinging her body to the other side in a swift and effortless movement that makes him believe they might actually be able to pull this off.
He takes a steadying breath and tries to come up with something to say other than this is a very stupid and reckless idea, but his mind is blank. They lock eyes as he holds onto her arm, and then he’s leaning over to lower her as much as he can, cursing out loud this time because he’s literally lowering her behind the line of fire.
And he's suddenly terrified.
“Buck!" she calls out, shaking herself, asking to be released.
“Fuck," he shakes his head and lets go, her hand slipping through his fingers and he can't breathe until she's looking up at him from the ground, giving him a thumbs up. “Fuck."
She gives him a nod and then she’s moving slowly, throwing the grenade at the back of their feet. They're not aware it happens until it’s too late to run, the explosions knocking almost all of them off their feet.
"I got your distraction, Wilson," she calls out in the intercoms and Bucky finds her through the scope of his rifle. Once he makes sure she’s covered, he gets to work on taking out the last few men standing. "If I die because of these idiots, I'm gonna haunt the living shit out of you."
Bucky might be scared shitless for her, but his aim never misses and his hands never shake. The entire line is quickly on the floor immobilized, and Sam is giving word that the mission was a success and it's time to go home.
At the Quinjet, Bucky tries his best to inspect her body, trying his best to not seem like a creep as she gets rid of most of her tactical gear. He just wants to make sure she's okay, so when she sits down next to him and lets out a sigh as she works on her bulletproof vest, Bucky sees the bullet immediately.
"Fuck," he whispers to himself but it's loud enough to get her attention. "You got hit."
She looks down at her chest and there it is, right above her heart. She takes out the small piece of metal carefully, inspecting it, and it slips off her fingers, making a clinking noise once it hits the floor.
Bucky gets this urge then that has him kneeling in front of her, practically ripping the thin vest off her body to make sure the bullet hadn’t touched her. He takes his time looking at her arms and legs, hands moving like ghost over her limbs, hovering over them without really touching. His left hand reaches the back of her neck and his thumb pushes her chin up so he can see her neck, and he's brought back to reality as she gaps at the feeling of the cold metal against her skin. Bucky stills and watches her throat move as she swallows and the way she licks her lips before she speaks.
"I'm alright," she promises. "I didn't feel it."
Bucky’s chest runs cold and he lets go of her body completely, apologizing. He's not expecting her to follow behind him, her hands holding onto his shoulders so he wouldn't go too far. She looks him over, her hands feeling down both her arms carefully, then she's pushing his hair away from his face and her thumb brushes over a small patch of blood on his forehead, but the small wound is already healed. Nothing to indicate it was even there but the dry blood left behind and she can't hide her amusement, making Bucky smile a little at her face, and fuck, he's so done for this girl.
"I'm alright."
She nods once, taking her hands away from him, and if Bucky catches his best friend's eyes as he sits quietly next to her, neither one of them brings it up.
✮
Bucky can’t sleep.
Nothing’s new about it really, so, like he’s used to, he walks down the hallway to her room. He can hear the tv on and her throat as she swallows before she chuckles lightly. He takes a deep breath and gives in, knocking on the door.
“Hi, Sergeant,” she says and Bucky’s heart soars.
He’s smiling as he pushes the door open and closes it behind him as quiet as possible. He makes his way towards her bed and gets comfortable next to her, both of their backs against the headboard, shoulders touching.
“You’re right on time, actually,” she mumbles after their comfortable. “I just started to eat my feelings.”
Bucky frowns curiously at the plate in her lap, “Your feelings taste like shortbread cookies?”
“And champagne,” she adds, pulling a bottle of champagne from the side of the bed and taking a long gulp. “Best combination in the world.”
“That so?”
“Try it, Buck. C’mon.”
Bucky hesitates for a while, eyes dancing between the bottle and the plate and her mouth, and he’s so distracted all of a sudden, because he wants to know if her lips still taste like strawberries and if he can pull a gasp from them like he did that night in the dirty alleyway.
“C’mon,” she insists, moving the bottle of champagne closer to him, “Don’t you trust me?”
And Bucky’s at a loss here because if he’s completely honest, he trusts her with his life and his heart. So he does — takes a hold of her wrist to bring the cookie she’s holding closer to his mouth and take a bite before sipping on the half empty bottle of champagne. His tongue tingles inside of his mouth and the feeling remains even after he swallows. Bucky licks his lips and she watches with heavy eyes, the alcohol rushing quickly to her head. Her lips part as if she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, her gaze locked on Bucky’s mouth and maybe, just maybe he thinks he’s not the only one who keeps thinking about that night and that kiss.
“I’m sorry I freaked out a little today,” he mumbles then, not sure what he’s even saying. His mind clouded and thinking about something entirely different. “I was just scared you’d get hurt when I lowered you behind the line of fire. I was so close to jumping right after you.”
Bucky chuckles thinking he’s not making any sense. She’s probably gonna shrug it off or get uncomfortable and there will be no one to blame but himself. So he clasps his mouth shut and bites down on his tongue to stop himself from saying anything else. He takes another swing at the bottle of champagne and he’s never wanted to get drunk as much as he does now.
“It’s fine, really. I get it,” she assures him and because she can’t help herself, blurs out, “God knows I’d walk through fire for you.”
She only realizes what she said when the silence stretches on for too long. Bucky hears her swallow and her heart rate pick up, and he knows he needs to say or do something to make her understand that it’s okay. That Bucky would do the same and a thousand other things for her.
He sets the bottle of champagne down on the floor right by the edge of the bed, and when he comes back this time, he goes all the way, leaning in towards her slowly, his eyes roaming her features before they settle on her lips, trying to make his intentions clear and giving her enough time to move away if that’s what she wanted to do.
When he’s close enough, he whispers, “Do you trust me?”
Her breath hitches at the words, and it takes her a second to reply in the same hushed tone, “Of course I do.”
And then Bucky’s mouth is on hers, his right hand wrapping around the back of her neck to keep her close. She opens her mouth for him with a sigh and Bucky aches to be closer to her, his lips growing persistent. Her hands grab handfuls of his jacket and Bucky thinks he might cry when she moves clumsily until she’s settling in his lap, straddling him.
There’s a moment in which they’re breathing each other’s air, just enjoying being this close, and Bucky’s elated — he’s so happy he can’t stop himself from smiling. He’s so fucking happy, he actually chuckles. His chest swells up when she giggles back before she kisses him again.
✮
The world is quiet as the darkness starts to break.
Bucky’s still in bed, his arms wrapped around the one person he loves the most in the word, and there’s nothing but calm inside his heart as her paced breathing tingles the base of his neck.
“You alright?”
“Never been better,” he mumbles against the crown of her head before pressing a kiss to it. “Go back to sleep, honey.”
She hums in reply and pulls her head back to see his face properly, and Bucky’s not used to this kind of intimacy anymore, he feels so exposed he wants to run and hide. But the air is knocked out of his lungs when his gaze find hers because she’s looking at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and he just can’t run away then. He won’t. He’s allowed to have this. He’s allowed to be happy.
“Good morning,” she mouths at him and she’s close enough to feel Bucky’s warmth but not too close to not be able to see him clearly. And it’d be a damn shame not to be able to stare into those blue eyes.
“Mornin’,” Bucky mouths back and she can barely see it but she smiles at him anyways.
And it’s Bucky who closes the space in between them to kiss her. It’s closed mouthed and short but so sweet it leaves her head spinning and a string of closerclosercloser bouncing around her head. She rests her hand on Bucky’s cheek, and he replies to the gesture immediately by kissing the inside of her wrist and smiles smugly when he feels her heartbeat jump.
“Shut up,” she mumbles rolling her eyes and the blood stops flowing through her veins for a moment when Bucky starts laughing. She’s so in love with him, she feels like screaming.
The laughter does quickly in his throat and he keeps his arms around her as he shuffles and gets on his side, leaving a quick kiss on her nose before settling in close.
He bites the inside of his cheek trying to find the right way to say something then, and she raises her eyebrows at him, showing him she’s listening. He bites his lips thinking if it might be too soon to let the words in his mind sound, all of the times he’s swallowed the words I love you before are threatening to spill all at once.
“I know,” she whispers and he can see the words she leaves unspoken as the corners of her mouth turn upwards, and when she kisses him, it tastes like I love you, I love you, you know I love you, I love you.
The sun starts pouring in through the window but they have nowhere to be today. They finally have this, and he’ll be damn if he doesn’t enjoy it for as long as he’s breathing — holding her close and kissing her silly it’s the only thing Bucky wants to do.