Master Mechanic
Darcy was pulled sluggishly into consciousness by the point of pressure that was shaking her knee. A spike of underlying panic rose to the surface causing her to shout out in protest and automatically swing her fist at whoever was trying to attack her.
Her fist connected with flesh and bone a split second before her eyes popped open to see Bucky rubbing at his jaw and looking mildly surprised.
Realization over what had happened dawned on Darcy and she lurched forward to soothe her own hand over his jaw, hissing when the cuts on her hands stung with the contact.
“Bucky, I'm so sorry! I thought I was being...I thought the guy...I, I-” Her words cut off with a shuddering gasp and a rushing in her ears, the memory of the last 24 hours crashing down around her. She was fairly certain she was having a panic attack and she could one hundred percent confirm that they sucked ass.
“Oh my god, that guy was gonna kill me, holy fuck,” she moaned between harsh gasps of air. “Ohgodohgodohgod, I watched you kill someone.” She turned wild eyes to Bucky, who looked as if he wanted to curl in on himself and disappear, but she was too caught up in the madness of her mind to notice his discomfort. “Like, what the fuck? He was alive and then he wasn't and you sliced and diced that fucker like an overripe tomato!” She dragged clawed hands through her hair, pulling her head down to rest against her knees. That's what people who are having panic attacks are supposed to do, right?
Fuck, fuck, what was her life?
She focused her eyes on an ugly brown stain that marred the floorboard of the (stolen, for godssake) car, trying to slow the rapid inhale and exhale of her breathing to something that wouldn't make her pass out. She’d fought Dark Elves, she could handle a little panic attack.
It was an unbearably slow thing, but she fought for control over her mind and body, pushing hard at the ugly memories and focusing on that fuck-ugly stain with every fiber of her being. As with anything she put her mind to, Darcy came out victorious, pulling herself out of the panic attack through sheer force of will and deep breathing exercises.
She rose from her bent position shakily, testing herself to see if she really was in the clear. She was about halfway to sitting up fully when the image of the Hydra agent bleeding out onto her floor flashed in front of her eyes. It took every ounce of her self control for her to scramble out of the car to vomit on the grass by the side of the road instead of there on the floorboard. She hunkered there on her hands and knees, fingers digging into the soil as her stomach emptied itself. Eventually she was down to dry heaving and coughing up bile. Lovely.
The heaving subsided and she sank back on her knees, exhaustion rolling over her like a wave despite the fact that she'd just slept for hours.
She felt a light tap at her shoulder and turned to see Bucky holding a bottle of water out towards her. She took it graciously, swishing out her mouth and splashing her face before drawing a few sips, which her stomach thankfully kept down.
She swallowed a few times, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling in her throat before clearing it and addressing Bucky. “Where are we? What time is it?” she took a moment to take in their surroundings. From what she could tell, they were in the middle of some kind of junkyard in the middle of the night.
“Somewhere called Hazleton, Pennsylvania. Just after 10.” His answer was curt, some undercurrent of tension lacing his tone that sent worry scurrying through Darcy's gut.
She pushed aside her concern to ask, “Why are we in this...junkyard?” She looked around them at the rows of rusting and broken down cars strewn in between random piles of even rustier spare car parts.
“Our car’s likely been reported stolen by now, we need a new ride. Preferably one that no one will miss.”
Darcy squinted her eyes at the heaps of scrap around them. “Are you suggesting we get one of these pieces of crap running? With no tools, no jack, and rusted parts?” she asked incredulously.
He shrugged, his eyes muted and his tone dull when he responded. “I've done it before.” He turned abruptly back to the car, opening her door for her and then stepping around to get in the driver's seat. She rose from the ground, dusting off her pants and clambered into her seat. As soon as she had her door closed, Bucky drove to the very back of the lot where the cars with the most atrocious damage were sitting, unlikely to be touched again before they'd disintegrated completely into piles of rust and rubber.
He parked their stolen sedan between two pickups that had seen better days and probably part of the LBJ presidency, then hopped out, shouldering his duffle and trudging back along the rows of the metal wasteland.
Darcy was baffled at his coldness, and stumbled after him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. “Hey, Bucky, slow down. Not everyone was born with mile long legs, buddy.” He merely grunted, but slowed his pace some.
She reached out to grasp his arm, “Bucky, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Keep your eyes peeled for anything that looks serviceable,” was his brusque response and then he was marching forward again.
Darcy resisted the urge to smack the back of his pretty head and make him talk to her. She had promised to give him some space when he needed it. For all she knew, this could be his way of decompressing from going into Winter Soldier mode and he just needed a little time to adjust. Plus, they were technically on the run so maybe now wasn’t the best time for a heart-to-heart. But if his attitude wasn’t in check by the time they were back on the road, she was definitely having words with Grumpy Cat Barnes.
Having decided to ignore Bucky’s less than pleasant attitude, she followed behind him, head swiveling left and right, trying to distinguish one useful heap of metal from the hundreds of useless heaps of metal in the near pitch black of night with only the aid of a flashlight that Barnes had fished out for her.
At last, they came to a row that looked promising. The cars were older, but seemed to be less damaged. They’d most likely passed their prime in some form or another and repairing what was broken would have cost more than what the piece of junk was worth.
Darcy liked pieces of junk that other people found worthless. Those were the best treasures to find once they’d been given a little lovin’. Her dad had taught her that lesson over the many years spent helping him in his garage.
She came to nearly the end of the row when she spotted it, the blue paint faded to nearly silver and the slim moonlight lighting up the white hardtop. She crept closer, cracking the hood open and smiling to herself at what her flashlight illuminated. She puttered around under the hood for a few minutes and then checked the underside of the vehicle to get an estimate on what was wrong. “Bucky, I’ve found her,” she said, crawling out from under the car, just as he called out to her from the opposite row. She slammed the hood back down to see what he wanted, stomping up to stand beside him.
He stood beside an older model truck that someone had slapped a new paint coat on, a hideous “classic” color combination of red-orange and white. He reached his hand out, patting the hood. “This one,” he grunted.
Darcy laughed in his face. “Hah, no. Definitely not.” She brushed past him, popping the hood and peering inside. “Yeah, no way,” she added, arms folded across her chest.
“What’s wrong with it?” Bucky asked, a hint of irritation coloring his words. “It’s got four wheel drive, good suspension, the engine looks pretty clean. The only issue is the rear axle is bent, but I can straighten that out by hand.”
Darcy’s indignation at his ignorance was enough to allow her to completely ignore how incredibly sexy the thought of Bucky fixing a bent axle with his bare hands was. “Okay, because you were frozen for the majority of the 70s, I’m gonna let you off the hook for that one, but, son, you bout to learn today,” she jabbed a finger in his chest and then stepped back to gesture at the vehicle. “This, my darling boy, is a 1978 Chevy truck, and though the exterior is oh-so-pretty, it is housing the single worst diesel engine ever to be manufactured: the Oldsmobile 350. It is the absolute most unreliable diesel engine you could find. Even if we got it running, we’d likely blow the head gaskets and break the head bolts before we even made it back on the highway. Trust me, my sweet summer child, our chariot awaits over yonder,” she finished with a flourish, pointing at the diamond in the rough she’d discovered on the opposite row.
A muscle twitched in Bucky’s jaw, but he swept his arm out in an “after you” gesture and fell into step behind her. When he saw the ugly old thing she’d picked out, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “This? This is what you chose?” He cut his eyes over to her, his entire expression questioning her sanity.
“Yes, I did.” She gave him a quelling glare which, well, it didn’t really have much impact on him but whatever. She was still right. “This is a 1976 Chevy K5 Blazer Cheyenne with a 350 gas engine that will not produce a metric fuckton of carcinogens every time we hit the accelerator. It also has four wheel drive and, if you’ll notice, a paint job that doesn’t scream ‘look at me, look at me! Subtlety is just the worst!’ Honestly Bucky, I thought you were supposed to be a spy?”
Bucky’s eyes flashed in annoyance and she was fairly certain he growled just the tiniest bit in his throat. “What needs fixing?” he grumbled lowly.
“Needs two new tires, new shocks, brake pad replacements, new injection pump drive gears, and of course a tank of gas, possibly a new battery.” She gave her most winning smile.
Bucky merely sighed and rolled his eyes in response. “Let’s get to work.”
Darcy squealed in excitement (she just really loved winning arguments okay? So sue her) and then pranced off to track down the parts they needed.
It took a few hours to scavenge all they needed, including an older set of tools for Darcy to use on the engine that were left rusting in a forgotten toolbox, but eventually she had the Blazer fixed up to her liking. Despite the harrowing day leading up to their midnight scavenger hunt and rebuild, and the dire circumstances of being a Hydra target, Darcy felt herself loosening up as she worked. The subtle joy of fiddling with and fixing up a car was something that she’d definitely inherited from Paul, and just the smell of the Blazer’s engine grease was taking her back to the easy days of her childhood. Her high spirits made working alongside Bucky easier since he was still brooding in full force.
Her mood was so vastly improved that when Barnes laid out beneath the truck and hoisted one side of it up by the might of his metal arm, she was able to fully appreciate how mind-blowingly attractive the action was. She might have drooled on her shirt just a little, if she was being honest.
Bucky jerked his head to level a glare at her, the tendons in his neck popping out with exertion. “You planning on changing this tire anytime soon?” He gritted out.
“Oh. Right. Sorry!” Darcy ducked her head and started the process of replacing the rear tires. She made quick work of it, to Bucky’s relief, and at long last the Blazer was ready.
Bucky rolled out from underneath the truck, dusting off his backside and flexing and recalibrating his prosthetic. He stuck his flashlight between his teeth and ducked into the cab to hotwire the engine. Darcy sent up a silent prayer to the God of Carburetors and watched the engine for any flickers of life.
“Come on, come on, come on. Be a good girl for mama and start,” she cooed, fingers lightly tapping across the front bumper. The Blazer responded with a series of grinding whines and then, finally, roared to life. Darcy let out a triumphant whoop, slamming the hood down and hopping around in a tight circle as she literally sang her own praises. “Darcy is the best of mechanics! No engine can defy me! I know all. Every metal part shall bend to my will!” she trilled, shaking her fists at the frigid night sky.
She stopped her dance of self-worship when she noticed Bucky leaning against the open driver’s door with a judgmental brow lifted. Whatever, haters gonna hate. She was too elated to care about Mr. Wrong Side of the Bed. She took a running leap at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and screeching into his ear, “We did it!” and proceeded to cover his grumpy face with ecstatic kisses. Bad attitude be damned, she was celebrating!
Bucky froze under her onslaught for a couple dozen kisses and then his hands were coming up to frame her face, bringing her lips to his with bruising force. Darcy gave a surprised bleat and then smiled against the furious press of his mouth. He melted into her then, his lips softening against hers and moving with a lazy hunger. She took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist as he moved to lay her across the rumbling hood, pulling her coat to the side to kiss down her neck and over the tops of her breasts where they were peeking out the top of her v-neck t-shirt. She shivered at the contact and the chill of the air as it touched the damp spots on her skin where his mouth had been.
A hot puff of air brushed across her flesh as he let out a sigh, the urgency bleeding out of him as he sank down into her, burying his face between her breasts as his thumbs soothed circles into the sliver of skin between her jeans and her shirt.
Darcy looked down at the top of his head. “You okay down there, kiddo?” she asked. When he didn’t respond, she poked his shoulder. “Did you suffocate? Don’t tell me the girls are murderers now.”
Bucky’s responding chuckle sent shockwaves across her breasts, sending them jiggling and pulling a huff of laughter from Darcy. Bucky raised his head, his eyes sparkling up at her in the moonlight and a sweet smile playing at his luscious mouth.
“There he is,” she murmured. “There’s my Bucky.” She brushed her thumb over his brow, down his cheekbone and across his lower lip. He puckered his lips against her thumb and then snapped at it playfully.
“You wanna tell me what’s been going through that pretty head of yours?” she asked him.
He sighed, looking away from her briefly, before nodding and pulling her upright. “Yeah, but let’s get on the highway first. The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to be caught. Sitting still is making me antsy.”
Darcy hummed in agreement and let him help her off the hood. He hopped in the driver’s seat and waited for her to clamber up into the passenger seat before putting the vehicle in gear and easing out to the main path out of the junkyard.
When they had passed the first mile marker on the highway, Darcy turned expectant eyes on Bucky and cleared her throat. “Okay, spill it, Barnes. What was with the bad attitude?”
Bucky chewed on his lower lip, eyes scanning the road. “I...When I woke you, you were terrified of me.” He tried to bite back on his words but they came tumbling out anyway. “You thought I was attacking you and you were sobbing and talking about how I...how I... did what I did to that Hydra agent and you looked so small and scared of me and you’ve never looked at me that way before and I thought that, that, that it was too much for you, that I was too much and you wouldn’t...want me anymore.” His words petered out and the steering wheel creaked under the strain his clenched hands were putting on it. “I was scared and angry at myself for....being me.” He clicked his teeth closed, jaw twitching as he swallowed hard.
Darcy stared at him wide-eyed and trying to process the rambling string of fear and doubt and worry that he’d unleashed upon her. No wonder the guy had been so cranky, bottling up that much anxiety wasn’t good for anybody.
“Are you, are you gonna say anything back?” he asked hesitantly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
“Yes! Sorry, just trying to unpack all of...that.” She unbuckled and slid across the bench seat, tucking herself into his side to rest her head on his shoulder. “Firstly, definitely still want you. No worries there, Jamie-boy.” She arched up against him to peck him on the cheek. He turned his face into the touch, mouth quirking in a half smile.
She settled back into his side and brushed her left hand over his thigh, picking at the outer seam with her thumb nail. He dropped his flesh hand from the wheel to cover hers, the warm weight of it soothing the frayed edges of her nerves. “Secondly, I feel fully justified in freaking the fuck out earlier. That was a traumatic experience, so I’m allowed to lose it just a little. But I was never scared of you. Okay, maybe I was a little scared right after you killed that guy and your eyes were dead and cold and I thought maybe he’d triggered the Soldier after all, but as soon as I reached for you, you broke out of whatever headspace you were in and I knew I was safe with you.” She paused to take a much needed breath. “But when I freaked out in the car and was talking about watching you kill that guy, my issue was never with you. I wasn’t losing my shit because I’d seen you do something like that, I lost it because I have never seen a person die via stabbing before. I’ve seen the aftermath, but never watched it happen and it was...jarring.”
She raised her eyes to his face, her gaze tracing the furrowed ridges of his brow and the way his mouth tensed at the edges. “I wouldn’t change anything, though. That asshole was going to kill me. Going to take you back to Hydra where they’d break you and hurt you again and there is no way I could ever let that happen. I am 100% glad that shitstain of a human being is dead, don’t you doubt that. If I looked at you with fear in my eyes, it was because of what was going on inside my head at the time, reliving seeing a man die. It was never directed at you, you have to know that.” She laced her fingers gingerly through his, raising his hand to brush her lips across the back of it. “Okay?”
She felt him heave a deep sigh, tension leaking out of him with the breath, and he raised his arm over her shoulders to pull her in closer. “Okay,” he muttered into the top of her head.
They rode in pleasant silence for a few miles as Darcy’s eyes grew heavier and heavier. She felt Bucky nuzzle his nose into her hair and his warm breath against her scalp. “It’s late and it’s been a hell of a day, sweetheart. Get some sleep. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice a warm rumble in her ear.
“Mmm, okay,” she agreed, nodding sleepily. She was out cold before they’d gone another mile.
***
“Darcy. Darcy, wake up honey. I need that genius brain of yours,” Bucky spoke softly into her ear, stroking her upper arm, trying his damndest to wake her as gently as possible. He'd learned his lesson last time. No knee shaking.
Darcy turned her face, nuzzling into his shoulder and chest. She gave a low groan and slung her arm across his middle, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I don't wanna,” she whined. “Find another genius.”
“Oh but I'm sort of attached to this one already, you see?” He smiled down at her as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze.
“Oh yeah?” she teased.
“Yeah,” he replied, then dipped his head with the intention of giving her a kiss but was stopped by her hand flitting up to block him.
“Hah, nope. Not till we've both seen the business end of a toothbrush. I adore you Bucky, but we're not to the makeout-with-morning-breath stage of our relationship yet.”
“Really?” he asked, lifting an incredulous eyebrow. When she didn't budge, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Alright, fine. You awake enough to get me to the cabin?”
“We’re in Bradford? How long did I sleep for?” She swiveled her head to peer out of the windows of the cab. They were parked at a gas station she recognized as being set just outside of town.
Bucky nodded. “About six hours.”
“Oh geez, no wonder I feel so stiff.” She pulled out of his embrace to stretch and crack her back. “No wait, that might be because of the knives digging into my back and side. Do I really need five knives on my person at all times? Don't you think that's a bit overkill?”
Bucky pursed his lips and considered her question. “Is it just the three that are bothering you?”
“Yeah, the boob one doesn't dig into anything bony and neither does the thigh one. Also, the boob and thigh ones are way sexier.” She ran her hand over the blade at her thigh, licking her lips and giving him a slow wink.
Bucky chuckled and helped her out of her jacket, lifting up the back of her shirt to unstrap the knives sheathed at the small of her back and against her ribs. He took the opportunity to run his metal fingertips along the ridges of her spine, raising goosebumps across the soft skin of her back.
She peered up at him over her shoulder. “Having fun back there, Barnes?”
Bucky hummed, his lips upturned in an impish grin, and brushed his flesh hand against her this time. The swing from cold to hot had her shivering under his touch, her eyes half closing as he kneaded the tense muscles of her abused back. When she'd turned to complete putty in his diligent hands, he slid her shirt back down and slipped her jacket over her shoulders. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes, much.”
“Good. Can you put that memory to work now?”
“Yessir, budge over,” she said, crawling over his lap to take over as driver. He scooted out of her way and buckled himself into the passenger side.
Darcy got her bearings, drawing out a mental map of the small town and the winding county roads that would lead them to Rob’s property. A half hour journey over teeth-rattling dirt roads and she eased Big Blue (as she had dubbed the Blazer) up to the front gate to the McKenzies’ private property.
The entrance was nearly hidden where it was tucked back away from the side of the road, a rusted gate stretching between two ancient beech trees and almost entirely covered in dead underbrush. Bucky hopped out of the cab and ambled over to the gate, knocking off the light dusting of snow that covered the latch. There was a heavy padlock running through the latch, but his prosthetic made quick work of tearing it off and he started pushing the gate out of the way, ripping underbrush clear as he went until the way was clear for her to pass through. He shut the gate behind them and hopped back into the cab, dusting his hands off on the front of his jeans.
If Darcy remembered correctly, the dirt road wound in and around the property for about a mile before they came to the cabin. She eased on down the road, careful of potholes as Big Blue wasn’t the gentlest of rides on rough terrain. They had to stop a few times for Bucky to pull fallen trees from the path. Some were huge and watching the way Bucky’s back flexed and strained under their weight was...pleasant, to say the least.
The cabin, when they finally made it, was just as shabby as she remembered. When Rob had first inherited it, he had been unaware of its existence until the reading of his stepfather’s will. Even his mother hadn’t known about it, so he and Angie were both quite intrigued by it, deciding to take the first long weekend that came up to go out and inspect the property. They’d brought an inspector with them, who’d confirmed that, while the traditional log cabin exterior was ugly as sin, the infrastructure of the house was in excellent condition. The McKenzies had originally planned on making a summer project out of remodeling the place and turning it into a private getaway, but soon after, they discovered they were pregnant with Violet and all plans for renovation had been put on the back burner. Especially after Rob had come across a pile of claymore landmines tucked into a back closet. They’d noped out pretty quickly after that.
Good thing Darcy’d brought a demolitions expert.
They both clambered out of the car, stretching out kinks and aches from the long journey. Bucky hoisted out his ever present great big bag of murder and underwear and traipsed up the front steps of the cabin. He dropped his bag by the door and made a quick circuit around the immediate perimeter before busting the lock and leading Darcy inside. He made a thorough sweep of the place and seemingly deemed it a worthy place to hunker down.
“So what do you think?” Darcy asked, pulling her jacket tighter against the frigid temperature inside the cabin. In the perpetual shade of a mix of huge beech and hemlock trees, the cabin was even colder than the outside air, which had the advantage of a bright, cheery sun and open sky.
“It's damn near perfect, tree coverage blocks the cabin from aerial view, remote, quiet enough for me to hear anyone approaching, and the property isn't in either of our names. Good work, Lewis.” He clapped an approving hand over her shoulder, like she was a lower ranking officer in his command.
She swayed a little under the force of the gesture, turning to him with a raised brow and a mock salute. “Thanks, Sarge.”
He just winked at her in return, leaning in to sneak a quick kiss to the underside of her jaw.
Darcy let out a soft sigh of pleasure. “If you think it's perfect now, wait till you see the stash of claymores in the back closet. I don't know if they're duds or not, but there's a whole crapton of them.”
Bucky froze against her and then jerked back suddenly, turning on his heel and marching off down the hall with a look on his face that could only be described as “kid in a candy store” or, more accurately, “Bucky in a candy store.”
“Have fun,” she muttered at his retreating back and set to work gathering firewood from where it was stacked out behind the house. She started building a fire in the stone fireplace that was the center structure of the cabin and, unfortunately, the only source of heat for the whole house, because this place was as off the grid as a paranoid old ‘Nam vet could get it. No heat, no AC, no gas. The place barely had electricity. There was an old wind turbine that Rob’s stepdad had put in that supplied the often finicky electricity. She was just thankful that the place had its own well and running water. There was no freaking way she'd be peeing in the woods anytime soon.
Having gotten the fire started, with only minimal cursing and one splinter, Darcy dusted her abused hands carefully on the front her pants and crossed to the kitchenette to take inventory of foodstuffs. The fridge was completely empty save for three bottles of beer and half a jar of jelly, leftover from the last time her family had been there. The pantry was in better condition, stocked fairly well with an assortment of canned goods, three boxes of mac and cheese, some ramen, and what looked like four boxes of ammunition stacked in one corner. Nothing like lead for breakfast, eh Papa McKenzie?
She couldn’t be too critical of the crazy old bastard, may he rest in peace. His paranoid forethought was saving their bacon at the moment.
She wandered through the rest of the cabin, taking inventory of other necessities and creating a running shopping list in her head as she went. Eventually she came to the back bedroom, peering in to see where Bucky was. She could just see the tread of one black combat boot sticking out from the little walk-in closet door and he seemed to be humming quietly to himself.
Darcy knocked on the doorframe (surprising the guy with the landmines was always a bad idea) and moved to the edge of the closet. Bucky was seated on the floor, surrounded by stacks of claymores, fiddling with one of the devices in his lap, happy as a clam.
“If you blow us up, I’m gonna be pissed.”
He gave her an unamused look. “I’m a professional, Darcy. I’m not going to blow us up.”
“You’re a professional that’s been awake for around…” she paused to do the math in her head, “thirty hours. That doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in your abilities.”
Bucky shrugged. “I can stay awake for days if I need to without it impairing my abilities.”
Darcy blinked at him, trying to process what he’d said. Shaking her head, she replied, “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, tugging at his jacket. “Come on, babe. You need a nap. There’s no need to run yourself ragged.”
Bucky sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, the idea of sleep suddenly sounding irresistible. He placed the claymore in his lap off to the side and stood to exit the closet, closing the door firmly behind him. “Uh, maybe don’t go in this closet without me?”
Darcy snorted. “Yeah, no problem. I enjoy keeping all my limbs attached, thanks.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth a look of horror slid over her face. “Not that there’s anything wrong with not having all your limbs!”
Bucky watched as she squirmed and blushed and couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of his chest. Her head fell into her hands, hiding her flaming face from him. He reached for her without thought, tugging her into his chest and wrapping himself around her. He dipped his head to nuzzle into the side of her neck and face. “You sure are cute when you have your foot in your mouth.”
Darcy groaned and pinched his belly. Sort of. It’s hard to get a good grip on rock hard abs. He didn’t even flinch, just chuckled in her ear and started placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat, his tongue soothing over the tender bruises on her skin. The mixture of pleasure and pain had her hissing and moaning into his ear, her hands fisting low at this shirt. She started tugging at the material, pulling it up his belly but his hands came down around her wrists, pulling them from his shirt and bringing them up to wrap around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up against him so they were eye to eye.
“You could use some sleep, too.” He dropped his eyes from her face, tracing over the mottled blues and purples at her throat, and then glanced back up at her shyly. “Would you lay with me? For some strange reason I don’t really want you further than arm's reach,” he said with a wry grin.
“The feeling’s mutual,” she murmured, resting her forehead against his.
He smiled and briefly brought his mouth to hers in a chaste kiss while walking them towards the bed that was tucked against the wall. He set her gently on top of the old quilted coverlet then crawled up beside her, tucking her back into his chest and curling himself around her. He reached behind him to throw the coverlet over top of them and then buried his nose in her hair, letting the soothing scent and warmth of her in his arms settle over his bones and send his mind adrift into slumber.