Chapter 2
You hated parties. So much. Yet, there you were. The voice of your grandfather echoed in your mind, telling you that going to events, socializing, and making contacts were an essential part of the job. “Kicking some asses isn’t all this is about, pumpkin,” he used to say. You remember going with him at very early age, having to memorize the name of all the big players and how each of them could be beneficial to SHIELD.
The perks of being raised by one of the founders of the powerful organization. Even years after his death, you couldn’t help but following his lead, not missing one single event like the one you were at now.
Leaning on the balcony, you took a sip of your champagne, scanning the place, identifying at least a dozen of people you would have to socialize with before the end of the night.
However, before you got into action, your gaze landed upon him. Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier. Four spots away from you at the bar, asking for a drink of his own. You wondered what Steve had to do to drag him there. Since he got to the team, he had been keeping to himself, interacting with almost nobody, except Steve and occasionally Sam.
You knew the famous brainwashing wasn’t a problem anymore and he’d been doing well on the missions he had been assigned to, but your efforts on exchanging a bit more than the good mornings and hellos with him, it was to no avail.
The man intrigued you. Not to mention he was hot as fuck. Considering the two samples you worked with, the 40’s should have been a damn good decade to live in.
You were taking another sip of your glass when he inadvertently turned his face to you, catching you gawking. You quickly moved your gaze to your front. But your eyes were also quick on betraying you, seeking for him again.
And then you saw something you had never seen him doing before: he was smiling. Bucky Barnes was fully turned to your direction and sporting a small, yet gorgeous smile on his beautiful mouth. The man who hadn´t acknowledged your existence so far was aiming the sweetest of smiles at you.
You felt a broad grin of your own tugging at your lips and some weird fluttering feelings taking over your stomach.
Oh, shit… this can’t be good.
~~~
Why is the fucking kitchen so far fucking away? The thought pops into your mind while you drag your feet to said kitchen, aiming to fill your empty whining stomach, hoping to be lucky enough and find nobody there. You haven´t managed to sleep for a single minute since the night before. The moments with Bucky and the last words he said before you dashed out of his bedroom ended the possibilities of you having any kind of rest, as you kept reliving them in your mind.
I’m sorry…I’m sorry…
They weighed over you, over your heart especially, bringing out emotions and feelings you thought you had done a good job on burying inside the depths of you. It isn´t so, apparently, for those simple words were enough to erase two years of your life. Two years of running away, two years of forgetting. Or trying to.
You wonder if you really made the right call on coming back. Being away seems a very good and reasonable decision now, why did you have to go and change your stupid mind? You take a deep sigh, pushing the kitchen´s door open. You know damn well why you changed your mind-
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Of course luck wouldn´t be your friend that morning. “Morning, Nat…” you murmur, “Sam…Wanda…” you nod to the other only two occupants of the table, who wish you their mouthful “good mornings” as you walk to the coffee machine and help yourself with a cup of strong espresso, before joining the group.
“Okay,” Natasha drags the word after a moment of the three of them staring at you, while you fill your plate with some of the eggs and bacon from the pan on the table, “what exactly ran over you last night?”
You let out a bitter laugh, you surely look like shit after the hell of a night you had, “Like I´m the only one here with sleeping troubles every now and then.”
Wanda and Sam shrug and keep eating, finding no lies in what you said, while Natasha smirks, “I missed you. Thought two years away from us, simple avengers, would change you. I´m glad it didn´t.”
“I don´t think simple is the word you looking for, Tasha,” You don´t have to force the smile curling up your lips. You´ve missed everybody, but Wanda and Natasha would always hold a special place in your heart. Your little squad, having your back no matter what.
“All right, but the real question is: to what do we owe the honor of having the illustrious director of the infamous European branch of new SHIELD among us?” Sam says the words with mocked drama, wiggling his brows and imitating quotations marks over new for the effect.
You roll your eyes at the remark, “They hate you call them that, you know?” You swallow your coffee and sigh after he chuckled and kept looking at you, waiting for a response. Apart from Steve, Wanda and Natasha, It hasn´t been so hard to avoid explaining to the rest of team the circumstances of your presence since the beginning of the week, considering the come and go due to missions and personal matters, like the long delayed honeymoon of Tony and Pepper. You guess you can’t avoid it any longer, “Ahm, it´s former director, actually. I’ve resigned.” You smile tightly at him, “I’m back to stay.” Your both hands firmly hold the cup in front of you.
His jaw drops and a sound, which you can’t distinguish between a scoff and a genuine laugh, comes out of his lips. You raise a brow at him, as Natasha keeps her classical unperturbed expression and Wanda takes a nonchalant sip of her milk. His gaze switches between you three, “Are you serious?” he asks, at last.
“Yup”, you shrug, gulping down some eggs and hoping for the miracle of not having to discuss the matter any further.
“What the hell happened? This was all you ever talked about ever since I met you.”
You’re taking a breath to face the questions, when the miracle you were hoping for happens in the form a sexy former assassin.
“Ok, Wilson, enough of bacon and chit-chat. You’ve been successfully dodging from that sparring session with me for too many times, now.” Natasha snaps out of her seat, dragging Sam with her by the collar.
As relieved as you are, you know Sam isn’t stupid to fall for that, but, lucky for you, he’s also the most comprehensive motherfucker you know. He swallows back whatever he really wants to say and goes along, “I’m glad you’re back anyway. We really missed you.” He pats your shoulder before being drifted out of the room.
You can’t help a small smile to cross your face at his consideration in leaving the subject behind. Or for later, if you really knew him. Shaking your head slightly, your gaze falls upon the up till now silent Avenger in the room, who is smirking at you, with her arms folded in front of her.
“What?” Your eyes narrow at Wanda.
“You know what? You were right.” Her smirk grows bigger at your quizzically shrug, “All of us have trouble to sleep.” She elaborates, grabbing her cup and plate and turns her back to you, walking to the sink, “By the way, one nocturnal troublemaker in special is strangely still asleep this morning.”
You choke on your coffee. While she dries her hands using a dish cloth, you can’t see her face but you’re mostly certain she’s sporting one of her radiant full grins. If you can expect scolding and advices against what you did last night, you know you wouldn’t receive them from Wanda. She has always been the most supportive of you and Bucky and she was heartbroken with the break-up. She used to say she shipped you two, or something like that.
Wanda walks back to you, stopping behind your chair and leaning down to wrap her arms around your shoulders. “I think what you’re doing is great. He hasn’t slept that well in…well, two years.”
Before you can respond in any way, she props a kiss on your cheek and is out of the kitchen in a swift move, leaving behind her a slightly lighter heart than the one which has entered the kitchen this morning.
~~~
The rest of your day consists on being in the main office, trying to catch up with what you missed these last two years concerning missions, team rearrangements, new additions and work methods… You have a lot to study and analyze, which you’re kind of thankful for, since locked inside a room alone, you don’t have to play the avoidance game you and Bucky have been engaging to this last week. Also, it’s always been easy for you to use work as a way to take him and everything concerning you both out of your mind, at least for a bit. Mission accomplished. You’ve successfully driven your mind away from him and haven’t seen Bucky the whole day.
Except the day isn’t over yet.
Late in the afternoon, a throbbing pain lodges in your head, and you decide to hit the gym and exhaust your body instead of your mind for a change and, hopefully, relax. Everyone usually does their work outs in the morning, before their day’s responsibilities, so you are pretty confident you’ll have the place all to yourself.
Just like you expected, you find yourself running on one of the treadmills with no one around. Earphones drumming your favorites beats in your ear, you keep speeding up, the endorphin rushing through your body, easing your headache and running down to your limbs.
The slowly shift from numbness to aching in your joints brought by the heavy exertion doesn’t stop you from accelerating even more, breaking a personal record. You’re drenched and panting when something catches your peripheral vision, right by the door, making you trip on your toes and hit straight to the ground.
You groan at the pang you feel in your ankle and bring your hand to cover your eyes, pulling your earphones with the other, tossing them aside, cursing at your clumsiness, trying to recover your breath, even through clenched teeth.
“Are you ok?”
Fuck.
You open your fingers to see between them, meeting a pair of blue eyes hovering over you. The very same blue which has knocked you down all those years ago, and keeps making you trip on your feet.
As he stares at you, worry etched on his face, you incline yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on the floor, as he crouches in front of you. “My right ankle,” it´s all you mumble, having almost completely forgotten about the pain.
Bucky then focus his gaze on your feet, and you try not to wince when he gently wraps his hands around your aching ankle. The touch is clinical as he assesses possible damages, but is incredibly soft and, as it has always been, even with the metal, it’s warm, subduing the ache right away. Goosebumps trails up your skin and his heat rolls off on your body in burning sparkles. It´s the first time he´s touching you after two years and all you can do is stare at him, and control yourself not to scream, run away or throw yourself at him and kiss him breathless.
His attention is stuck on where he´s touching you, “There´s no sign of trauma,” His voice is dry and contained.
Even if he isn’t looking at your face, you nod and expect him to let go of you then. But he doesn’t. Your breath hitches in your throat as his thumbs draw lazy circles on your skin. The touch is barely a brush, light and soft and you could retract yourself from it if you wanted.
But you don’t.
You’re frozen in place while your gaze follows his flesh hand when it unhurriedly slides up the back of your leg. You stop breathing altogether and he seems hypnotized by his own hand when it stops right in the middle of your calf. Your eyes flutter shut. It’s overwhelming, bringing you to old memories and new sensations. A simple touch and you´re a puddle on the floor, willing to drown into him again.
“Bucky…” you finally breathe through your daze.
Your voice calling his name seems to snap him out of his own stupor, because too soon his hands are out of your body and as you open your eyes, you face the hardening of his features, still not looking at you when he stands up promptly.
He offers you a helping hand, and when you´re up, it’s only a moment before he takes a safe step back, avoiding the closeness. “Are you ok to walk?”
You’re the one who avoids his eyes, when he finally looks at you. You nod, feeling the pain in your ankle easing down.
“Good. Some ice and anti-inflammatory ointment and you should be ok.” Just like that he’s out of the gym, apparently forgetting whatever he was going to do there.
The phantom of his touch still lingers while you gather your stuff and drag yourself to your room. You sigh deeply when you realize the simple truth: he left a longing plastered in your skin. An aching longing for more.
~~~
Late that night you find yourself again in his bed, running a timid yet soothing hand over his chest and whispering calming words on his ear, after Friday gave you the warning.
Your mind can’t help but travel to the afternoon events. The tiny interaction may seem insignificant on the surface, but you how much it’s meant to you. He’s spent a whole week ignoring you, not talking to you, running from your presence, and you, mimicking his behavior perfectly, both experts on staying away from each other.
But then he touches you… and all you want is more. Damn with the past, damn with the mistakes, the bad decisions. The heartache. You want him. You want him to want you, to kiss you, to touch you, to…
“Y/N?”
The whisper makes you promptly turn back around to find Steve, in tactical uniform, standing by the bedroom’s door with an almost comical expression of confusion on his face. Bucky stirs by your side and you’re quick to put a finger over your lips, signing for Steve to be quiet.
He sighs and nods toward the front door, before walking away.
You take one last look at Bucky’s peaceful form and cautiously leave the bed to follow the Captain.
“What am I seeing here?” he whispers almost in a harsh way, turning to you with folded arms in front of him when you close the door behind you.
You stare at your fidgeting fingers and use the same low tone to answer him, “I just couldn’t leave him on his own, Steve.”
Looking up at him, you catch the sternness leaving his posture as he takes a deep breath and regards door behind you for a second, “Does he know?” His gaze travels to yours and you shake your head in response.
You stare at each other, conversing through your eyes, like only two people who know, understand and nurture a deep love for the same person could. He´s the one to cut the silence, “He never goes back to sleep so peacefully, you know? When I’m the one in there.”
It’s so fucked up to feel good about the information, considering you´ve been away for so long, but knowing you´re still the only one able to take him out of his torment brings you a shameful sense of pride. And hope. You almost can´t help a small smile to shape your lips, so you decide to speak to hide it, “Did you just got here?” You point to his battered uniform.
“Yeah, came straight here to check on him. He seems to be just fine,” he smirks “I worry, though. About both of you.” His eyes bores into yours, “Are you ready to deal with it? With him?”
The meaning behind his words makes your chest smaller and you take a minute before speaking again, not really answering his question, “I think he was dreaming about me, the first night…”
“Wouldn´t be the first time.”
You mimic Steve’s tightened lips before they start trembling, “He said he was sorry…” You swallow back tears, casting your eyes away and staring at the door.
Steve places a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and you look back at him.
“I- I, wanna keep doing it. You said he usually doesn’t go back to sleep well. I wanna help him.” You grace your voice with resolve.
He removes his hand of your shoulder and contemplates you for a second, “You have to talk to him, though…Not just about this, but everything else.”
“I will, just… give me some time? Please?” You aim pleading eyes at him.
He nods and smiles softly when you let out the air stuck in your lungs. “Have I said I’m glad you’re back, already?”
You chuckle, pulling him for a hug. He hugs you back promptly and you’re so thankful for Steve Rogers. You know it’s been hard for him, too. Yet, there he is, supporting and offering his shoulder for you.
“I´m starving, wanna go grab something with me in the kitchen?” He whispers softly, moving his hand in circles around your back.
You hear the silence inside the room before nodding and letting him pull you by the hand.
~~~
With Steve’s approval, having Friday waking you up becomes routine. It isn’t every night it happens, though, which is great for Bucky, but if you’re going to be honest, you long for the moment you can be close to him, talk to him, feel his body heat washing over your skin… He hasn´t spoken to you ever since that day in the gym, so you spent the days waiting for the nights.
Steve´s been giving you the time you asked for, but you know the situation can´t be sustained for much longer. You need to talk to him, once and for all. You have to do it. Maybe tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow…
Tonight, Friday wakes you up later than usual and it takes longer for you to calm him down, due his agitated state. You hear him calling your name again, like it happened sometimes before, and you whisper you’re there, careful enough to get the message to his subconscious without waking him up.
You always leave when you’re certain he’s back to a peaceful state of mind, but maybe with the whole familiarity of the routine, you’re feeling dangerously comfortable and you´re not sure at what point you doze off tonight. All you know is the next thing you see is your hand laying upon an empty mattress.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Your heart rate rises when you follow the rusky voice. He´s plastered against the wall next to the bed, bare chest heaving and glossy eyes staring at you. You don´t miss his hands clenching when you move to sit on the bed.
Taking in a deep breath, you see no way out, before forcing a steady voice, “We need to talk.”