Chapter 12
One year later
“We don’t have to unpack everything right away,” Bucky murmured, voice low and husky as his strong arms wrapped around your waist pulling you flush against his back.
Nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck he slipped his hands beneath your shirt, his fingers dancing along the exposed sliver of your skin. “We deserve a break.”
Scoffing and rolling your eyes you nonetheless leaned back against his broad chest sighing in content. Your hands sifted through the cardboard box in front of you that sat on the wobbly kitchen table.
Frowning as you pushed aside photo albums you glanced down to the black sharpie cursive on the side of the box that said kitchen. Groaning you shook your head in frustration, your eyes sweeping through the kitchen you wondered how many of the boxes that littered the counter and floor were mislabeled.
After the night you had tearfully confessed your feelings to him and made things official your relationship had transitioned easily from friends to being in a relationship. There wasn’t much that had changed except for your living arrangements.
It hadn’t been uncommon for you to spend the night at each other’s apartment once or twice a week when still friends. After making it official though you were spending nearly every night at each other’s apartments.
At first it had worked out well enough, but after Natasha had accidentally walked in on him in the shower and the time she had walked in on him with his hands slipped between your thighs during a movie night she had drawn the line telling you that while she loved both of you she wasn’t prepared to see either of you in a compromised position again.
Which had left you spending more time at Bucky’s place instead of at yours. Financially it didn’t make sense to pay for rent at your place when you were practically living with him. Half asleep and wrapped up in his arms one night he had blurted out that you guys should get your own place.
While the idea had made perfect sense you were still a little apprehensive, worried that if you guys officially moved in he’d get sick of you. Your worries of course had been unfounded and after months of searching for something that could be both of yours with no history of exes or bad memories you had found the perfect little place.
“We already took a break, remember?”
“Refresh my memory,” he mumbled, lazily kissing his way down your neck.
Biting your lip to stifle your growing moans you could feel him smirking against your neck as you arched your back. His fingers inched a little higher and though you wanted nothing more than to give in to him, to the pleasure, the unpacked boxes and the worry of Steve and Natasha walking in again had you reconsidering.
“Nice try,” you giggled, pushing aside the box and searching for another to unpack, but Bucky had other things on his mind.
“Baby,” he whined. Nuzzling his face in your neck he slipped his hands a little higher, his fingers brushing against the wire of your bra. “Let me make you feel good then I’ll help you unpack everything.”
You could feel your resolve at staying strong begin to crumble. His whispered words so full of promise, of pleasure, of love had your knees practically shaking with want.
Regretfully stepping out of his arms you spun on your heel, your hands resting against his chest as you giggled at the pout that adorned his face. Standing on your tip toes you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You already make me feel good, Bucky,” you whispered.
Repositioning his hands on your hips he walked you backwards until your back hit the edge of the table. Effortlessly lifting you up he attached his lips to yours, the kiss long and deep, full of lust and love. His hands dipped beneath your shirt again caressing your back, your sides, inching higher to brush along the simple cotton material of your bra.
One year later and it still astounded you the way the lightest, sweetest touches from him could send your heart racing, heat flooding your cheeks, butterflies to fill your stomach. One year later and all it took was a smile from across a room, him mouthing I love you, sweetheart, honey, baby to send your knees shaking, your body thrumming with the vibrations of a deep love you never once expected to feel in your life. One year later and it still made you giddy when he kissed you, when you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms, when you awoke shivering in the middle of the night to see the blankets tangled around his hips and his thighs. One year later and you swore to god you fell more in love with him each minute of each day.
“We’re gonna get caught again,” you mumbled against his lips.
Your hands trailed from his chest up to his shoulders, one hand resting on the back of his neck as your other hand curled around his hair. The worry about getting caught ebbed when he cupped your breast. Arching into his touch you moaned, the noises becoming swallowed by his hungry kisses.
“You want me to stop?”
He was only asking to be polite, you both knew that the same way you both knew him stopping was the last thing you wanted right now.
Nipping at his bottom lip you gave a small shake of your head no. Your breath came out in heavy pants that were full of pleasure and anticipation when he stepped between your parted legs.
“Didn’t think so,” he chuckled. “Tell me if you change your mind.” His voice was lower, full of concern and love that sent your heart spiraling.
It didn’t seem to matter to him the time that had gone by or how many times he touched you. In some ways it was always like that first hookup full of soft, loving touches, constant questioning of if it was okay, voice strong when asking you tell him if it wasn’t. His fingers dipped beneath the cup of your bra palming your breast, groaning when you arched your back, when he felt your nipple hardened beneath his thumb and forefinger. “That feel good, honey?”
Tightening your hold on his hair, on the back of his neck you hitched your leg around his waist pulling him closer to you as you gasped into his open mouth. “Bucky.”
“Fuck,” he moaned. His lips were centimeters away from yours, close enough to feel your breath, to feel the way you hissed when he pinched your nipple, when you whined when he removed his fingers, when you moaned when he moved to your neglected breast. His tongue circled your top lip before repeating the action against your bottom lip. Spit lined and swollen his lips lingered at the corner of your mouth before leaving a sloppy trail across your cheek.
“You’re always so responsive,” he groaned, impressed that a year later he could still get your body to turn to putty with a few well placed touches.
“Only for you,” you gasped, your teeth pulling on your lip, your fingers threading through his hair before yanking his head back and crashing your lips against his.
You were lost in his lustful kisses, in his expert touches. He was lost in your breathy moans, in the harsh tugs to his hair. Each of you lost in your love and lust for one another neither of you heard the door open, the two pairs of foot steps crossing the hardwood floor or the groans of frustration that escaped two pairs of lips.
“That’s not what a kitchen table is meant for!” Natasha said, her voice loud and cutting through the noise of your sloppy kisses.
“Guys,” Steve sighed. “We’re happy you’re together, but maybe cool it for a bit?”
Your face felt like it was on fire, scorching hot with embarrassment as you let go of Bucky. Covering your burning cheeks you muttered under your breath so only he would hear, “I told you we we’re gonna get caught.”
“Also told me you didn’t wanna stop,” he teased. Slipping his hands out from beneath the cups of your bra he readjusted your shirt, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead before gently tugging your hands from your face. “You okay?”
“No.”
“C’mere.” Slipping his hand into yours he helped you hop off the table before both of you turned your attention to your friends.
“We were just um...” you started. Clearing your throat you avoided Natasha and Steve’s gaze.
“Unpacking,” Bucky finished for you.
With a snort Natasha strode into the kitchen carrying a stack of pizza boxes. “Sure you were,” she teased, breezing past you to put the boxes on the table. Going to the cupboards she opened them up searching for dishes. “Is that why the plates aren’t unpacked?”
“Some of the boxes are mislabeled.”
“We can use napkins,” Steve offered. Opening the boxes of pizza he grabbed two thick slices placing them on a napkin and carrying them to the living room where he plopped down onto the couch. Wordlessly Natasha followed.
“I’m offended they don’t wanna use the table. It worked fine for us,” Bucky joked, earning him a slap on the shoulder.
Crowded on the couch and around the floor grease stained napkins soaking through fingers and staining coffee tables conversation flowed easily the way it does between lovers and friends.
With pizza boxes emptied, napkins balled up, empty bottles of beer and soda cans littering the coffee table you leaned against Bucky’s side laughing at a story that Natasha shared.
Glancing around at the boxes that still needed unpacking, the pictures that needed to be hung, the clothes that needed to be put away along with dishes and toiletries you took a long look at the off white walls of your new home, at the hardwood floor that you were sitting on, at Natasha and Steve who looked comfy on your couch, their gazes all knowing as they took you and Bucky in.
A year ago you had never imagined this for yourself. Dating Bucky. Moving in with him. Being in love. But sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around you holding you close, your two closest friends sitting across from you you realized that this was everything you had ever wanted in life and there wasn’t any way this night could get more perfect.
Turning in his arms you pressed a kiss to his cheek murmuring that you loved him before shooting Nat and Steve an apologetic glance at the brief PDA.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more in love than you two,” she mused.
“Or more stubborn to admit their feelings,” Steve added.
“Or unable to keep their hands off each other for two minutes. Remember that pool we had going on how long it would take them to get together?”
“We’re right here,” Bucky grumbled.
“You guys had a bet going on us? That is... wrong on so many levels!”
“We wouldn’t have had to if you guys had talked to each other sooner,” Steve pointed out.
“How long did it take you to talk to Peggy?” Bucky shot back.
“That was different. We weren’t best friends.”
“He’s got a point,” Natasha added.
“Fine we admit it. We were idiots and we should have talked to each other sooner,” you said. “But we got there eventually. And now look at us.” Tilting your face up you smiled at Bucky.
There was a warmth and a hint of mischievousness twinkling in his blue grey eyes that set your heart fluttering. Yeah, it may have taken you guys longer than it should have to talk and those would be months and years you would never get back, but there was no point dwelling on the what if’s of your past. For the first time in your life you were focused on the here and now.
“Yeah, look at us now,” Bucky replied, hushed voice, eyes staring deeply into yours as if you were the only two people in the room. And when his lips moved against yours, when his hand lightly gripped your chin you forgot about those long lost months and years, forgot about your friends, forgot about everything except your best friend, your boyfriend, your soulmate kissing you so sweetly you were worried you’d melt straight into the floor.
“And that’s our cue to leave,” Natasha drawled. “Come on Steve lets leave the lovebirds alone.”
A round of hugs followed by appreciative thank yous for everything they had done from helping you realize your feelings to helping you move followed by a series of goodbyes and then it was you and Bucky alone in your new apartment.
“Wanna finish what we started in the kitchen?”
“Mm and the boxes that need to be unpacked?”
“Later,” he mumbled, his hands slipping back under your shirt as he guided your body to the couch where your friends had been sitting only moments before.
One month later
Wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror you tightened the knot on your fluffiest bathrobe. Tossing your towel in the hamper you stifled a yawn behind your hand. Padding from the bathroom to the bedroom you stood in the doorway admiring the way Bucky sat shirtless on the edge of your shared bed.
“Marry me.”
“What?”
“Marry me, Y/N.”
Opening and closing your mouth you took a shaky step forward convinced you had heard him wrong. After all you guys had gone out to dinner with Steve and Peggy. Bottles of wine had been shared. Heavy food had been eaten. You were tired, a little tipsy from the wine and you were hearing him wrong because there was no way he asking you what you thought he was.
Sensing your hesitation, your confusion he leapt from the bed making his way to you in two long strides. Reaching for your hands he laced your fingers together, his eyes searching yours.
“Marry me,” he said again, slower this time, enunciating each word.
A bubble of laughter floated its way past your lips at the randomness of his question.
Bringing your hands up to his mouth he kissed your knuckles. “I know I don’t have a ring and fuck you gotta believe me this wasn’t how I planned on asking you, but ‘m serious, Y/N. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”
It was absurd. Nothing like how you imagined it as a kid. Hell, not even close to how you daydreamed about him asking you on those sleepless nights. He was shirtless, standing in front of you in a pair of navy blue joggers. Your hair was damp from your shower. A pair of plaid pajama pants and a tank top beneath a fuzzy pink bathrobe, slippers on your feet.
It was insane. It came out of nowhere. Maybe it was cliche and old fashioned, but you had always daydreamed about the guy getting down on one knee, had thought it’d be romantic, someplace that was important to the two of you, maybe flowers or a sunset.
Not pajamas, not a random Tuesday night, not so... ordinary.
But there was beauty in there. Beauty in the fact there was no ring, in the fact he hadn’t intended on springing this on you, in the fact that you were both in your pajamas still a little tipsy from dinner.
It was perfect. It may not have been romantic or planned. There may not have been flowers or sunsets. But it was you and it was him the way it was always intended to be. Nothing about your relationship had been normal. Not asking him to take your virginity. Not him holding his true feelings back for years. Not you ignoring your own feelings for years. Nothing had been normal, but it had worked for you guys.
No, it may not have been bended knees, shiny rings, passionate kisses, but that was okay because it was fuzzy bathrobes, bare chests and a love that bloomed innocent and true.
“Yes!”
“Yeah?”
Tears sprung to your eyes, a wide smile stretched across your face as realization dawned on you. Nodding your head you said yes again and again and again until the one syllable word lost all meaning, until he had to kiss you to get you to shut up, until you were so breathless and dizzy with love and happiness that you were convinced you were going to pass out.
“Honey, I promise I’m gonna get you a ring and I promise I’ll get down on one knee and I’ll ask you like you always dreamed.”
“I don’t care. I don’t need you to ask me again because this was perfect.” And it was, it truly was.
You may not have been in a pretty dress, face full of makeup, hair done up nice, but you didn’t care because James Buchanan Barnes saw you in a bathrobe that you had since you were twenty, saw you with damp hair, fresh faced and knew in that moment that he wanted to marry you, wanted to spend the rest of of his life with you. And that, that was better than any sunset, any ring, any flowers.
“I don’t need you to get down on one knee or propose again and I don’t even need a ring,” you rambled, choking on your tears. “I just... the only thing I need, the only thing I want is you, Bucky Barnes.”
“Yeah?” He asked again, softer this time. You could see the tears pooling in his own eyes, clouding his vision and you wanted to wipe his tears away, but he was still holding your hands and you realized you didn’t want him to ever let go. “I love you so much, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much and I swear ‘m gonna spend the rest of my life doin’ everything I can to make you happy.”
“God, Bucky,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely down your face. “You already have, you already do.”
Pressing your lips to his you poured every ounce of love you had flowing through your body into that kiss not pulling back until you were almost out of breath.
“You sure you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?” You teased.
“It’s the only thing I’ve wanted since I was nineteen.”