Chapter 4
The warm water pours over you, washing away the tears that haven’t left your eyes ever since the night before. You want to tell yourself you should be mad at him, that he has treated you poorly, that he shouldn’t have yelled and kicked you out of his room like he did.
But where was the truth in that?
You deserve this. You deserve every single minute of the cold treatment he has directed at you ever since you got back. You deserve the excruciating pain you felt when he looked at you like he was disgusted in finding you in his bed.
You caused this. Hadn’t you brought even much more pain to him years ago?
Reaching for the shampoo, you can’t help the familiar memory to replay in your mind.
~~~
His hand is on yours as soon as your reach for your shampoo. “Nuh-uh , let me.”
You huff, failing miserably on faking annoyance, as you drop your hand letting him grab the bottle. Tilting your head to the side you watch him pouring some of the liquid on his hand behind you, “I can wash my own hair, you know that, right?”
The smirk on his lips would be annoying if it wasn’t so damn endearing, “And where would be the fun in that? Plus, I like to take good care of my girl. Just like she does to me.”
And you let him. You let him take care of you. You sigh as your eyelids flutter when he digs his fingers among your locks, and gently massages your scalp. You can’t help but lean into his touch, seeking the warm of his bare chest as he works on the roots of your hair.
The way he makes you feel, just like at that moment, with such a simple action as washing your hair…it’s indescribable. Something completely new to you. The sensations are exciting and soothing at the same time, alluring, powerful … overwhelming.
There it is, that ice cold feeling at the pit of your stomach. The one you’ve been having a lot lately, especially at those time when you’re giving yourself wholly to him…
He turns on the showerhead and uses it to rinse the shampoo out of your hair, pulling you away from that train of thoughts and bringing you back to the moment. Delicately, he places his hand on your forehead so the water wouldn’t hit your face. It’s a delicious surrender. A small kiss on the crook of your neck entices a loud and long moan out of your lips, which prompts him to trace a path of opened mouth kisses along your shoulder. The warmth of his mouth replaces the water’s as he puts the showerhead back.
With the atmosphere changing, you reach behind you, taking his growing erection in your hand. He bites your skin in response, soothing the sting with his tongue when you hiss. He pulls you impossibly closer with his metal arm around your waist, while his flesh one descends on your body. He moans against your ear when he presses his fingers between your folds, finding you damp with arousal.
You have to focus to keep your legs straightened, stroking his cock while his fingers play with your pussy in a slow, almost torturous pace, tightening your core with twists of pleasure and need.
Neither of you say a word. All you hear is the water falling from the shower, mingled with ragged panting and sweet whimpers. His breath fans over your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine and you speed up your hand at the same time he eases a finger inside your pulsing entrance, and uses his thumb to give attention to your clit. Just how he knows drives you out of your mind.
Your head falls back on his shoulder and his lips locks on your cheeks, sucking and kissing the tender flesh. He has two fingers pumping inside your pussy and his name slips in a whisper out of your lips.
The coils of pleasure becomes too much and, as usual, he makes you come first. You let out a silent scream as your other hand flies to the back of his head, pulling at his locks. You’re thankful for the firm metal grasping around your waist, or else your legs would betray you and let you fall on the slippery floor.
You’re not fully recovered from your high when he swats your hand away from his cock and his metal arm ascends to grab your breast, walking you forward, pressing you against the tiled wall. Your gasp synchronizes with his groan when he enters you from behind, his chest glued to your back.
His pace is not slow. He fucks you desperately, wantonly, moaning and breathing against your ear, gripping your hips as you brace yourself with your hands on the wall, relishing at the sensation of having him inside you. A feeling you would never get tired of. Having sex with Bucky was always an experience to be lived intensively, remembered. Touched starved as he was, you didn’t take long to become sexual. But it was never just it, was it? Before him sex to you was whether a means to an end or a brief distraction. With him? It was something else, like you were nurturing a bond between your bodies, your minds, your souls.
It was making love.
When that annoying ice cold wave threatened to surface in your chest again, your attention is caught by him pulling out, but the ache of his absence is short-lived, as he briskly turn you around and grips the back of your thighs, making you reflexively wrap your legs around his hips and hold on with your arms around his neck. You sigh when he’s inside you again.
You know this is how he liked best to have you. Seeing your face, burying the infinite of his blue eyes into yours. You have your forehead against his, lost into his eyes when he reaches that sweet spot. A whimper escapes out of you and your breaths mingle as his parted lips brush yours.
By the tenseness of his whole body, you can tell he’s holding himself back, waiting for your second release to allow himself his own. And with a few more thrusts to the right place and hip bones rubbing against your sensitive clit, the powerful orgasm makes you shake around him, triggering his own, which he express with a frustrated groan against your lips.
When you’re both breathing normally again, after a moment of only feeling yourselves against each other, you let your feet touch the ground again, keeping your arms around his neck as he roams his hand over the sides of your wet body.
“Somebody just broke a few Captain America rules…” you tease before he captures your lips in a kiss. Your heart flutters at the sweetness of his tongue, exploring you slowly and sensually, until he breaks it, letting you catch some air.
“No sex before missions is a fucking stupid rule,” he says between soft pecks over the length of your jaw, which you accept willingly shutting your eyes in delight and tilting your head, allowing him to go further down your neck with kisses, “ Besides, my girl makes it so damn hard to follow it.”
Your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes snap open at “my girl”. You push him lightly away from you and try to keep a smile on your lips, praying he wouldn’t notice your sudden change of posture, “Well, you better hurry up, Mr. Rulebreaker, before you’re late to take off and blame me for that as well.”
He playfully whines but ends up agreeing with you with a peck on your nose. You’re glad he seems oblivious to your unwelcomed discomfort. He effectively finishes washing himself off, not without occasionally kissing some part of your skin, before leaving the bathroom with an unyielding smile curling the corners of his mouth after you say you need a little more time in the shower.
Without his presence, as you let the cascade of water run through your skin, it’s impossible for you to not take yourself back to the recurring thoughts and feelings that have wandered your mind lately. All the happiness, the glee and uncontainable joy you’ve been feeling by his side, the delightful surrender, the sensation of belonging… You can’t help but feeling this is not how you’re supposed to feel. Not how you’re supposed to be.
You’ve been thinking about your grandfather a lot as well. How much faith he had in you being a fighter like he was. How he raised you to take his spot at SHIELD, the organization he built with the help of his friends and was so proud of, which was his whole life, especially after the terrible accident that killed your parents and grandmother, making both of you the only family of one another.
It also transformed you into the only heir to his legacy. Protecting the world was his duty and life and, when he started your training very early in your life he had made it clear it was yours too. Everything and everyone else was a distraction and should be eliminated.
You had one purpose and one purpose only: give yourself entirely to your duty. You learned how to fight, how to survive, how to achieve your goals. The world needed you. You didn´t need anyone. Growing up, every relationship you had, friends or lovers, meant a connection to something else, something bigger, more important than…feelings.
Love was for the weak. That was what your grandfather had taught you and you lived your life by his rules.
Yeah…Until Bucky Barnes.
What the hell would your grandfather say if he saw you now?
Bucky came into your life and knocked the air out of your lungs. After that first smile in the party several months before, your relationship had evolved quickly from what you at first thought would be a harmless hook up. You became inseparable. A part of one entity.
The multiple sides of Bucky Barnes took the floor from under your feet. He could go from the sweet and shy caring guy, to a sexy cocky bastard, making a fuzz of your feelings.
And then there was also the darkness.
He needed you and you started to realize you were getting addicted to his vulnerability. For the first time in your life the needs of one person came before yours and everybody else’s. When you were with him, everything you found logic in life, what you had strictly planned for you, faded away. All you felt was him. All you felt was love. You knew this was love. There was no point in denying it… but how the hell were you supposed to live with that?
It was like you were losing track of who you were. When Nick Fury made you the offer for a very important job on the other side of the world days before, the one job you had been working so hard for, the first thought in your mind was him, Bucky. Everything you ever wanted suddenly was not anymore.
It scared and confused the shit out of you.
With the growing uneasiness taking over your state of mind, you turn off the shower. Wrapping a towel around your body, you take a deep breath and walk to the door leading to his room. He had been sleeping the whole night peacefully ever since you favored his bed instead of your own and you couldn’t shake the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach at the realization you hadn’t.
As soon as you walk through the open door you see him finishing suiting up. He briskly turns away at the sight of you. But not before you catch a glimpse of a shining ring in a velvet box that he so quickly closed and shoved into his pocket.
It takes a split of second for you to put on the incomparable poker face you mastered since you were six years old, “Ready to go?”
He turns to face you again. His own poker face would rival yours if wasn’t for the single droplet of sweat running down his forehead, “Have to, Steve’s already texted me.” You smile at each other as he rushes to you and holds your hips through the towel, pulling you closer. You’re thankful the fabric of his suit is thick enough for him not to feel the coldness of your hands when you place them on his back, holding him to you.
“I’m gonna miss you everyday,” you say hoarsely, your smiling dropping as you start realizing the weight of those words, “Please be safe.”
“Hey.” He places a finger under your chin, tilting your head to him, “I’ll be back to you in a blink of an eye.” He leans down and kisses you.
You respond his soft moves with ferocity, wanting to feel him wholly, to absorb his taste on your lips forever.
“I love you,” he whispers, breaking the passionate kiss and cupping your cheeks to stare into your eyes.
“I love you, too.” It surprises how calmly and truthfully you say those words despite the turmoil running through your veins. Not that you haven’t said that to each other before. Your relationship has been like a hurricane, hitting you with full force and you had acknowledged your feelings for eachother sooner than anyone could expect.
But now you’re finally understanding how deadly that hurricane has been.
He smiles a breathy smile and after kissing your forehead he leaves for his mission.
As soon as he’s out, everything you’ve been suppressing so far comes to the surface. Your legs drop you to the floor and you cling on the towel covering you as your breathing comes out in heavy panting.
He’s going to ask you to marry him.
Your fingers turn white with the force you use to clench the tower, bunching the fabric as you do wo. A sense of despair washes over you and the sobs slip out easily of your lungs. You gather the strength to get up, your hands reluctantly dropping the towel as you walk to the bathroom, counting your breaths until you get to the shower. You turn on the water again and get under it, hoping the strong flux would wash away the panic rising inside you.
Only one thought occupies your mind. You need to get out of there.
~~~
Reliving that memory isn’t new to you, neither is replaying every word you’ve spoken to him that dreadful day he went for you in London. Seeing him there, waiting for you in your apartment, had kicked the air out of your chest. Some part of you hoped he would hate you for leaving and would never want to hear from you again. As much as it would hurt, it would be more bearable than having to deal with the fact you’ve destroyed him, not only by leaving as the coward you were, but also with the words you said that day.
Now, you have to deal with the consequences. His hurt and torn up face has never stopped tormenting you these last two years. And now it would be just as hard to forget the anger and resentment which he looked at you with the night before.
Moving yourself mechanically, you finish your shower and put on some clothes to face yet another day.
Not feeling hungry in the slightest you skip breakfast and head to the common room, hoping to find someone to share a sparring session with, doing what you do best, using work to escape from yourself.
“You look like shit.” Nat’s voice greets you from the sofa as she raises her eyes from the book she’s been reading to see you walking in the room.
You chuckle with everything but humor, “Matches the way I feel.” You sit on the spot next to her and place your head on her shoulder as she puts her arm around yours.
“That bad, huh?” You shrug and she hums in response, “Talk to me,” she offers kindly, running her hands through your hair.
“Maybe another time,” you sigh, trying to avoid the tears all over again, “Now I would gladly throw out some punches, wanna volunteer?”
Her laugh makes you smile, but before she could answer your invitation, an unfamiliar jovial voice calls her name from the kitchen entrance behind you.
“Nat, hey.”
She tilts her head behind to follow the voice and you lift yourself from her shoulder, narrowing your eyes at your friend given the sudden edginess of her whole demeanor. Not a look you’re used to see on Black Widow.
“Adrianna, you’re back already?”
You notice the slightly higher tone on her voice and turn your face to see who this Adrianna was. What you meet is a beautiful brunette, smiling wildly at Nat as she sauntered into the room. When her eyes find yours, however, she halts, obviously taken aback by your presence.
“Hello,” not quite understanding why the atmosphere has grown tenser you decide to greet the woman with a smile.
It takes a moment, but she smiles back, shyly, “Hi.”
You look at Nat, still smiling but giving your “don’t you have something to do” face.
“Oh, Y/N, this is Adrianna.” She gets up to introduce you both and so do you, as Adrianna walks to where you were standing, “She’s a psychiatrist. She used to work for our Psychological department. Adrianna, you surely have heard of Y/N, she’s back on the team.”
“Oh, you’re back?” It doesn’t skip from your attention how the information seems to affect her, “I mean, welcome back, of course I know who you are, it’s an honor to meet you.”
She extends her hand and you take it, shaking it friendly, despite the odd feeling in your gut. “Nice to meet you, too, Adrianna.” You observe her. She is beautiful indeed, long straight black hair, green eyes, slim waist and posture of a princess.
“So, I thought you would stay a few more weeks on your trip, what happened?” Natasha asks, interrupting the handshake which was taking a little longer than socially accepted, grasping the woman’s attention.
“Oh, I decided to cut it short. Turns out I realized vacations don’t really suit me, plus, I missed you guys…”
“Anna!”
The enthusiastic call and the scene which takes place before causes a freezing rush to your spine and a lump forms in your throat. Bucky runs into the room and catches Adrianna in a hug, spinning her around. Thankfully you haven’t eaten any breakfast because the giggles they share twist your stomach.
“I didn’t know you were back,” he exclaims, keeping his hands on her shoulders.
“I just got here and came straight to see you…you guys,” she says looking briefly and nervously- which you notice by the slight tremble of her voice- at Nat.
Bucky sports a large grin on his lips, looking only at her, like you and Nat weren’t even in the room. You, on the other hand, can’t take your eyes off of him. He looks a total different guy from the one you’ve been living with the last weeks. You should be glad to see him so cheerful - and to see the little wrinkles around his eyes that only appeared when he smiled wildly and you missed so damn much- but the fact the presence of another woman is the cause of it doesn’t let you go that far. Instead, you feel like the floor has been taken out from under your feet.
“Come, let’s make some pancakes,” he drags her by the hand to the kitchen. Not once sparing a glance towards your dumbfounded figure.
Adrianna follows him like a happy, compliant puppy. She says some words of goodbye to you and Nat, but you can’t say that you heard them. Your mind is racing … processing what you just saw. You know you shouldn’t feel this way. You don’t have the right. But it’s like a knife is lodged in your chest and you can’t breathe.
Your body drops to the sofa as you stare ahead. Natasha sits behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“Hey…” she tentatively says.
“Are they…” you manage to half-ask.
“No. She’s a … friend.”
The quick answer, despite the careful choice of the word “friend”, eases the heavy lump in throat for a moment, “But she wants-“
You look at Natasha in time to see her taking a breath and nodding her head. You bite your lips and swallows deeply. It was obvious. It was written all over her face. She was in love with him.
“Does he?’ you keep the small questions, not sure if you want to know the answers.
“She’s head over heels about the guy but I don’t think he sees it. Y/n, there hasn’t been anyone ever since you.”
You can only manage to exhale the air you’ve been keeping trapped in your chest. There are still so many questions you want to ask. Who the hell is this girl, what she meant for Bucky and why he seemed so comfortable around her? But the sounds of laughing coming from the kitchen take away your voice as you close your eyes.
The room is quiet for a moment, before Nat nudges you with her elbow, “Still wanna throw those punches?”
Your jaw clenches and you look at her, nodding feverishly as an answer.
“Come on then, I volunteer.” She pats your thigh and gets up, “And I’ll tell you everything I know you’re dying to know.”