The end of the world, Bucky muses, has finally arrived.
It’s come close, more than once. But this is different from all of those times.
This is real. Lasting .
How silly, he thinks, to have ever had the audacity to assume he could outrun his final fate.
He’d generously been granted a new lease of life by the Wakandan princess, Shuri. For years, he’d reveled in the possibility of building something for himself. Of course, it was too good to last.
But he can’t be too upset. After all, it was only a matter of time, he supposes.
Shuri had called him, to see her one last time.
And so he’s here in her lab, waiting for her, all while being mere moments away from joining the war swirling outside. Praying for whatever small respite their last meeting might give him.
He’d always had the luxury of seemingly endless time, maybe even selfishly so.
Despite hurtling towards it with his best efforts, Bucky always seemed to cheat Death. Or perhaps , he thinks bitterly, Death had cheated him. Over and over, without mercy.
She had been the one ray of light in it all.
But he didn’t want her anywhere near his damage.
He thought, by dropping the Winter Soldier act, he’d be free from his former transgressions. He finds, instead, that he’d just traded sins.
Desiring someone who could never be his.
He’d hoped his desires would wane over time, but, in a cruel twist of irony, they had only grown stronger.
He’d become accustomed to dreaming of her bright eyes and dark skin. Longing for her presence, in moments of loneliness. Wanting, selfishly, to have her, all for himself.
But he never trusted anyone around her, least of all himself.
So he’d stayed away. Kept himself always at an arm’s length. For her good and his own.
Despite her brilliance, this is one thing she doesn’t understand.
Shuri doesn’t realize that stepping into his space is enough to set him on edge, to set his damn veins on fire. Doesn’t understand why he flinches when she comes too close without warning.
Why, these days, he can’t even trust himself to be near her.
So when she finally sweeps into the room and moves quickly, dangerously close to him, he backs away from her, as if on instinct.
Anyone else might have been annoyed or concerned or both. She just looks at him curiously, a flicker of amusement on her face.
“You know, I don’t bite , Soldier.” she teases gently.
He tosses her a look crawling with skepticism. Right . Sure.
“Well, not yet .” she concedes, throwing him a mischievous grin. “But you’re safe for now, I think.”
Ordinarily he’d crack a smile at the joke and move on, but he’s momentarily distracted by a sudden fidget in her step. She’s hiding, no, she’s holding something in one hand.
Something… small . A trinket, maybe?
“What’s this, Shuri?” he asks, as carefully as he can.
Her jovial grin fades away immediately. She opens her fist, looks down at the small pin she’s got in the palm of her hand. Studies it for a moment.
When she looks back up at him, it’s clear something has shifted.
Gone is the playfulness, the teasing he’d just heard from her. It’s been replaced with something more somber. More... serious.
Oh . He thinks he knows what this might be.
She speaks.
“After your time in the army, you were awarded a medal of bravery. A token of gratitude, for all that you did during the war.”
Ah. Yes. Something of his, from another time. Another life .
She swallows, and he can see a nervous tic on her face. “I don’t think you ever knew about it. It’s true that it’s just a pin, and it doesn’t matter much.”
“But…” her voice trails off for a moment, “… I wanted you to have it today.”
She breathes in, as if bracing herself for what she’s about to say next. Finally, she looks up at him.
“You were a hero then, yes, but you are one now, too.” She meets his gaze earnestly, sincerely.
“You’ve always been the bravest person I know, and... well, I guess I couldn’t let you leave for battle without you knowing .” she finishes, and he can’t help the sudden rush of affection he feels for this wonderful, brilliant, girl.
For once, he’s at a loss for words. He wants to tell her everything he’s feeling and more, but it’s like his brain has suddenly short-circuited. He settles for something shorter, instead.
“Shuri… I … thank you . Truly.” The words come out low and with a tinge of emotion he’s never shown her, but he can’t find it in himself to hide it.
It’s true that it’s just a pin, and that it doesn’t matter much. He’s not one for nostalgia. Couldn’t afford to be, when so much of his past had been ripped from his hands.
And he’s no hero. He’d always harbored darkness inside him, long before he’d been captured and wiped of his memories.
But in this moment, knowing that she’s the one giving it to him, stuns him beyond reason.
He wasn’t a hero. But he could try to be hers.
He breaks from his thoughts when he catches her in his periphery, edging towards him.
She smiles shyly, now. Steps closer to him.
This time, he doesn’t move back. Steels himself not to.
She looks at his vest, searching for where to place it.
“May I?” she murmurs.
He doesn’t trust his voice to come out as anything but strangled, so he just nods silently.
Satisfied, she leans in and starts the task at hand.
And as she affixes the little pin to his chest, he can’t help but drink in the sight of her, so achingly close to him — the smoothness of her skin, the thickness of her lashes, the delicate shape of her lips, parted slightly as she concentrates on the task at hand.
His chest constricts, in spite of himself.
She’s absolutely , breathtakingly beautiful.
The way he’s looking at her now — it’s shameless and reckless and maybe even a touch improper, but he can’t find it in himself to care anymore.
Seeing her so near him just reminds him what a damn miracle it is to even have her around. Reminds him that having her, in any capacity, has been a privilege and then some.
He’s a rascal and a wretch, but damn if he isn’t the luckiest one alive.
She catches him looking at her, and for half a second he swears she blushes under the intensity of his gaze. Averts her eyes, as if to recompose herself.
Finally, she looks up at him, from under a fringe of dark lashes.
“Good luck, Sergeant.” she whispers.
The words are soft. Gentle, but also a touch wistful.
It’s her way, he realizes, of saying goodbye. Maybe for good.
The impending finality of it all sends a shiver down his spine.
She leans forward suddenly. Lets one delicate, dark hand settle cautiously on his lapel, the other near his heart.
It’s hardly an aggressive move. Really, it’s completely harmless, if anything.
But he knows her, better than he even knows himself.
Knows exactly why her eyes are suddenly half lidded, why her gaze has suddenly moved from his eyes to his lips.
And so he knows , in that instant, that she’s going to kiss him.
A part of him thinks that there’s still time to step away, still time to stop this , because she’s the princess and he’s not much more than a broken mercenary , but that part is silenced when she fixes her gaze on him. Searches his face, one last time.
He wonders, briefly, what she sees. What she could possibly see.
But he knows what he sees.
Looking at her now, he sees a promise . A promise of a future.
Wary, uncertain, yes , but also heartbreakingly brilliant in all its wonder and glory. Just like her.
He sees, in that moment, the wonderful girl who saved his life.
The one who could very well save the world.
Someone he’d die for, a thousand times over.
He can visibly see her working up her courage, now, tightening her grip on his chest to ensure he won’t move away from her. Not that she even needs to.
Because he knows that he couldn’t move away from her now, not even if he tried.
As always, he’s powerless to resist his princess. He could never refuse her.
Time slows.
His heart stops.
She leans in to kiss him, and his mind goes blank.
A first kiss should be gentle and sweet, he figures. This one is like that, and yet somehow, also nothing like that. It’s close lipped, yes, but it's also so urgent and magnetic that he can feel the tension running through him like an electric current.
He’s completely taken in by her, by the soft feel of her lips under his, her breath and the delicate fragrance of her perfume.
He should be kissing her back, too, he realizes, not just standing there, frozen in place.
His brain finally wakes up, and he kisses her back at last, tries to keep it slow and gentle. Her eyes flutter open as she realizes what he’s doing, and she pulls away in sudden surprise.
She and she looks like she's been shocked -- eyes wide, cheeks flushed from surprise or embarrassment or both, lips still slightly parted in a manner that he finds far too attractive for his own good.
She swallows and takes a step back from him.
Shit.
For half a second he lets disappointment wash over him, but what she does next takes his breath away.
Slowly, delicately, she brushes over her lower lip with a finger, as if re-tracing where his mouth had just been.
Bucky watches her, dumbfounded. Finds that he has to contain a shudder at that. Has to push away wicked thoughts of pulling her to him and kissing her again, kissing her until she cried out beneath him.
And he knows he shouldn't stare, but he just stands there and watches her dumbfounded, completely taken aback by her delicate beauty.
Her ability, to take something so innocuous and make it so painfully attractive.
She steps forward. Slowly, cautiously.
He strains himself to keep perfectly still, as if it might somehow prevent time from stumbling forward. Might prevent whatever is about to happen next.
“Kiss me again,” she says, voice catching, low and breathy and all-too-vulnerable.
What?
Shuri meets his eyes, dark and pleading and heartbreaking. “Bucky, please -”
And it’s her last, plaintive please that does him in, that ends up being all he needs to hear, because suddenly he’s moving forward to meet her lips like a man possessed, and suddenly she’s gasping beneath him in a way that feels new and different and so damn right .
It all comes back to him, like it’s instinct . He wraps one arm around her, pulls her close and kisses her with a fierce urgency he can’t explain.
Shuri, for her part, locks her arms around his neck like a vice. Presses her delicate frame right up against his, greedy fingers already tugging desperately at his hair.
Maybe , he muses, they’re sinners both. Doomed to damnation, at this end of times.
But he loves her greed, her hunger. Rewards her for it by deepening the kiss, reveling in the feeling as her lips part beneath his, as he finally tastes her, as he’d dreamed of doing a thousand times over.
And it's not until he's tasted her that he realizes just how starved he's been — starved for her touch, her affection, her love. Something, he realizes, that she’s always been willing to give.
He presses her against the lab table. Pulls her fully into his arms, kisses her feverishly.
Like the world might end. Because it just damn might.
At last they part, all but gasping for air.
She’s flushed prettily, hair tousled and lips now swollen, looking more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before.
Looking back up at him, with more love and affection than he’d ever deserve or know what to do with.
Why had he ever waited?
He leans in and kisses her again in spite of himself, because he’s still hungry and he suddenly can’t even fathom letting her go. She sighs softly into the kiss, and he can’t help the spark that ignites in his chest when he hears it.
They pull away a few moments later. He unwraps himself from her, immediately feels the ache of her absence like a stab through the chest.
She takes a deep, staggering breath, but he can see the sudden tears in her eyes. She buries her head against his shoulder, stifling a small cry and breaking his heart all over again.
He wishes they’d had more time. Wishes they’d had more than a few secret, stolen moments.
Perhaps in another time. Another life.
The war outside waits.
But for just one moment longer, he simply closes his eyes, pulls her close, and gives thanks for the calm before the storm.