Chapter 3
“Good Morning,” you mumble as you stumble into the kitchen of the Avengers compound, clad in naught but an old T-shirt of Buckys. It hit mid-thigh and was far too large for you. However, it remained one of your favorites, lending a comfort which had been absent for most of your long life.
You were born in the ninth century when times were simpler. Bloodier. Often you missed the simplicity. People said what they meant back then.
Steve glances up from his breakfast. His gaze travels the length of your body. He blushes as he meets your eyes, and, not for the first time, you wonder if Steve was holding back. His relationship with Sharon had lasted only a few short months. Afterward, his eyes would follow you around the room. He would seek out your company above the others. He was unusually attentive, that is until he learned of your relationship with James.
“Morning,” he mumbles, averting his gaze back to his bacon, leaving you with a frown on your face.
You slide in next to him and place your head on his shoulder. He stiffens, every muscle going rigid. “Steven, won’t you tell me what’s bothering you? Have I done something to upset you?”
Steve sighs, dropping his knife onto his plate with a resounding clang. He stands from his chair, creating distance between the both of you and smiles wanly. It’s a strained grimace which does nothing to dispel the uneasiness which has settled in your stomach.
“No, darlin’. Everything's fine.”
You scoff in disbelief. “Steve, you can barely be in the same room as me! Don’t you dare lie!”
Steve has the good grace to look guilty and drops his gaze to his shoes, a hot blush rising in his cheeks. He mumbles something unintelligible and fidgets.
“I beg your pardon?” you snap irritably.
He heaves a torturous sigh. “I don't understand. You and Buck hardly speak to each other. I’ve never seen you hold a conversation. I don’t understand... how…?”
“Ah, you are worried for your friend's heart. Has bucky never told you? How peculiar,” you muse. “Steve, Bucky and I... we do not need to speak. We communicate telepathically. The only time we speak freely is when we are alone.”
Steve looks taken aback. Shock written clearly on his face. “Bucky lets you into his head?”
You nod, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “Yes,” you answer simply.
Steve splutters, unable to form a coherent sentence, so great is his surprise.
Your gaze snaps to those boring into you from the other side of the room.
Bucky leans casually against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He nods and you stand from your seat to take Steve’s hand in your own. “Can we not be friends as we once were? I swear to you, I will not play with Bucky’s heart. He is my one. I could not harm him.”
Steve grimaces and an array of emotions filter across his features before he pastes on a smile. “Of course, darlin’. You know I can’t say no to you.”
You squeal and throw your arms around his neck, placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “I am glad,” you state. Letting him go you throw him a last smile his way before sauntering over to Bucky who raises his eyebrows. You wink and he grins, following you from the room.
Neither of you notices the way Steve’s face falls or the clenching of his fists.
*******
Steve POV.
He watches you walk away. Your hips swing in a way which drove him near mad. His skin was on fire from your lips. He could still feel the heat of your skin on his. It was agony. Pure torture to have you this close. To have you within reach but never being able to call you his was a torture he thought he would never have to endure. There was a time when he could have been yours, but he had been overly cautious and buried his feelings. He’d pulled away from you, and you let him. It was one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made.
Bucky had told him everything in hushed tones after the mission. His eyes were alight with clear adoration as he whispered his confession. You had been seeing Bucky in secret for nine months, agreeing to keep the relationship from the others until Bucky was ready for the scrutiny.
At first, Steve had thought it wouldn't last. He was sure it was purely physical. After all, conversations between you were few, but with the revelation that you did not need to speak aloud in order to communicate with had left a bad taste in his mouth.
What's more, Bucky let you into his head. He let you see all he had done. Every emotion he had was laid bare before you. Bucky let you see his guilt, and Steve wondered idly if you were the reason the nightmares had stopped.
He didn’t think he could bear to watch the two of you fall further, faster, deeper into each other because, God he wanted you! He loved you. He craved you.
Your soft laugh. The way your eyes would light up at a joke. The dark aura which followed you, one dipped in seduction and fire. The way you spoke was like a punch in the gut. A soft purr. A lover’s whisper. Your beauty stole the very breath from his lungs.
He was in love with death herself.
In a strange way, he found it fitting. He had been a sickly child, always on the brink of living and slipping into darkness. Once when they were younger, he’d told Bucky he’d seen a woman, an angel wearing a dress made of stars. He now knew it was you coming to claim his soul.
As a soldier he was reckless. Death missed him on many an occasion. It was a constant source of fear for Bucky, the incessant love affair Steve had with pushing the limits.
Steve, however, knew he wanted to see the angel again. The angel of death who sang such tender songs as the fever took him. The woman he’d ached for years to see again, but now… now it was so much worse.
He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed he coveted the source of his oldest friend’s happiness. Ashamed that he couldn’t control it. Ashamed he wanted you so fiercely.
He sighs sadly. Oh, yes. Steve was in love with death, and death was in love with his best friend.
He begins to laugh, an uncontrollable laugh which shook his large body.
How ironic, he thinks to himself, to love and hate so fiercely the two people he would never be able to hurt by telling them the truth.