Chapter 20
In the dark corner of the bar, Bucky kisses Wanda and makes her forget about everything else. With his hands on her waist, and hers flat against his chest, he kisses her so gently, so tentatively, that she quickly forgets all other thoughts on her mind and finds herself thinking only about him, and his eyes, and his perfectly soft lips. It all feels perfect, the way he's holding her, how he's kissing her, and she loses herself to it. She goes willingly, her body sinking into his as she stretches up to kiss him back, feeling like the room is spinning around them.
Wanda gets so swept up in the moment that minutes could slip by as they stand together like this, tangled up in each other. She thinks that she could spend hours here with Bucky, kissing him, enjoying the softness of his lips and the warmth she feels seeping through her veins. Wanda kisses him back languidly, learning him, being as gentle with him as he is with her, until eventually she begins to kiss him back a little harder. It's her way of letting him know that this is what she wants, what she's always wanted, and he doesn't have to be so tentative and careful with her.
Still, he pulls away. It happens slowly, one minute they're kissing, the next he's tilting his head back to look down at her, to get a read on her and work out what she's feeling, how she's feeling, and she wishes she could tell him exactly how she feels. If she could find the words she'd tell him that right now it feels like she's being hit with a rush of cold air after being surrounded by endless warmth. She misses his lips, misses the complete feeling of being in his arms and kissing him. She wants to go back to that, wants to have him close, to taste the whiskey and cigarettes on his lips again.
It comes to her now, what she'd say to him if she could, the exact words she'd use to let him know how being with him makes her feel.
Lucky me.
She smiles at the thought then glances up at Bucky, trying to get a read on him, to work out how he's feeling. Tonight he hides nothing from her, leaving himself open to her wandering gaze. She's glad for that because she wants to know, has to be sure, that this is still what he wants. He's made it more than clear, she just needed to be sure, and once she is she realizes that he's trying to do the same thing with her. He's quiet and wide-eyed, trying to read her, just to know without any doubt that this is what she wants.
And it is.
She does want this, she wants him, more than she can remember wanting anything in a long time.
Wanda stretches up to kiss him gently, only now aware of just how tall he is, how tiny she feels in comparison. She smiles at the new realization and presses another kiss to his lips, slowly becoming more and more aware of little things that she missed before, like the silver chain he's wearing, hidden away under the fabric of his t-shirt, and the warm scent of the cologne she only now notices. It's earthy and fresh, reminding her of something warm, and she likes it. She likes even more the scent of roses she picks up on him next. Maybe not roses, but flowers? yes, she realizes, as her hand slips from his forearm and comes to rest against his side.
She keeps it there, her mind soon drifting away from thoughts of fresh flowers to thoughts of him and the softness of his mouth. Wanda lets herself enjoy it, lets herself be completely consumed by it and the way that he makes her feel, and that's probably how they end up in one of the bathroom stalls together. Lips locked, hands clinging to each other, only separating for small breaths every now and then. She wants this, wants him, and that's why they spend what feels like forever tangled up in each other, with his hands on her waist and hers clinging to his shoulders.
Minutes later when he pulls away, she misses the warmth and wants to go back. She wants to kiss him again, to be held by him, until she lets herself look at him with clear eyes and she realizes that something is different. There's distance between them that wasn't there before. He's put distance between them, small and barely noticeable, but she picks up on it because she always does, because she is so aware of the little things that she can't ignore this. She knows almost right away what it means, or at least she thinks that she does. There's something on his mind, something that wasn't there before, and even though she wants to kiss him again she knows that this comes first. He comes first, he always will.
"Just so you know," Wanda pauses, leaning back against the stall door. "I like you, too. Just a little bit."
"What a relief." he grins back at her. "Because you are.."
"Cute? A good dancer? The best person you've ever met?"
Bucky smiles more easily now, quickly breaking out into a laugh that seems to relax his entire body. He becomes less tense because of it, because of her, and even though she welcomes the change she can't help but feel like it's not going to last. His smile is still kind, his eyes still warm, but there's something underneath it all that confirms to her that whatever is on his mind is still there and it isn't going away anytime soon.
"Yes, to all of that. That, and so much more."
Wanda hums a quiet reply, saying nothing for the moment, as she drops her hands from his shoulders and leaves them to dangle by her side. Soon after he does the same, his hands slipping away from where they were on her waist. He lifts them to his face, carding his fingers through the dark strands, before they drop back down to his side in an uncertain way that lets her know that he isn't quite sure what to do next or how to talk about this.
"What is it? I can see that something is wrong." she says gently. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. We can talk about it."
"Nothing's wrong, not really. There's just something I haven't told you." Bucky begins, stops, then tries again. "I wanted to tell you before tonight, I just couldn't find the right time. You know? My timing's never been great."
She nods, trying to understand, to see what this means for him and why it's so hard. For a moment more she says nothing, giving Bucky some time to clear his head and to find the words he wants to share with her, to let her know what's on his mind. Half a minute later he comes up with what he wants to say and glances back down at her, looking like he knows every word of what he wants to say next but he's having a hard time stringing it together.
She tries her best to help.
"There are lots of things I haven't told you, too." Wanda says soon, words soft, voice even. "That doesn't mean that we have to tell each other everything, or that we have to talk about things before we're ready to."
"No, I know. But this is different, I want you to know this." he sighs, exhaling a shaky breath. "I don't want you to feel like I was ever trying to hide this from you. This is just different from the other stuff, that's why I didn't say anything. I need you to get that. I need you to trust me when I say it's different, okay?"
"Okay, I trust you." she says almost right away, no hesitation, no doubt. "Tell me what this is. Tell me why it's different."
Her trust means something to him, more than he can say or think about right now. Bucky quickly forces it away, consumed by thoughts of this, whatever it is, and what it means to him. She quickly realizes why he is so stuck on this. He's afraid of what comes next, afraid that this is going to change things between them, and her first instinct is to let him know that it won't, that it never could, but for the moment she stays quiet, watching him as he forces himself to speak again.
"It's hard 'cause I don't really talk about it, y'know?"
"Remember what you said before?" she speaks soon, hoping her words might comfort him. "There is nothing to worry about. Don't stress too much, it will all feel natural after a while. You'll see."
Once again it means something to him. Her words, his words from earlier, reassure him the same way they reassured her back then. It helps enough that he seems less nervous, his expression even softens out just a little, and he lets out a breath he must have been holding in for a while. But the tension still lingers in his eyes, and she knows it will be there until this is over, until whatever is on his mind is out there between them. There's nothing she can do to change that, she can only help him through it.
"Alright, so you know I was a soldier. I told you that, right?" he asks, watching as she nods. "And I also told you I was medically discharged. Well, it's just about that. It's something I didn't mention that I should have, but I didn't, and I don't know why. I don't know."
I understand, she wants to say, wants to take his hands and comfort him. Then she realizes that she doesn't understand, not really, not yet. He was hurt in the war, medically discharged, this she already knew. She just never really thought about it, never thought about why he was discharged or how he was hurt, until now. But before she can say anything, before she can think about comforting him, or coming closer, he's speaking again and she can only focus on this. She can only focus on him and the way he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, back and forth, like he's fighting his instinct to stop this, to run.
She hopes that he won't.
"Look, I don't know how to say this. Because my friends always knew, right from the start." he sighs, glancing up at her. "I've never had to tell anyone about it 'cause there was never anyone I wanted to tell. But I want you to know, and I don't want you to feel like I ever lied to you. Because I didn't, I didn't lie. I didn't keep it from you, I just didn't know how to say it."
"I know," she's quick to say, to comfort him. "I know you didn't lie. You wouldn't. I know that."
And then her gaze flickers down to his hands, to the where he's fidgeting with his gloves, and it all makes sense. It really clicks this time and she understands now, why he always wears the gloves, why something always stopped her from asking him about them. She wants to know more, to ask, but she also wants to be careful with this, with him. That's why she spends a minute crafting her reply before she speaks again.
"That's why you wear the gloves?"
Wanda tries to keep it simple, not wanting to hurt or offend him with her question. She quickly learns that she hasn't, that she never could. It's something she sees in his eyes, a softness, small and fleeting, that lets her know wordlessly that she could never hurt him. It's only now that she realizes she feels the exact same way about him.
"Yeah," he nods, almost smiling "You noticed, huh?"
"Only because I notice everything." Wanda answers, keeping her voice steady. "Why do you wear them? Did something happen to your hand?"
The smile vanishes from his lips slowly, fading away bit by bit, and afterwards she's left only with the memory of it. He lets nothing else through, keeping it all to himself again as his eyes dart around the tiny bathroom stall that suddenly feels too small for the two of them. After he's done glancing around the stall he looks back at her, determined to keep going, to finally get this off his chest.
"Mm, yeah. It did, and I'm not sure why but I can't.." he stops again, letting out a frustrated huff. "I don't know what it is, why this is so hard. Because it's not a big deal. That's what's weird, you know? It's fine because it's really nothing, and I'm fine, but I guess I'm just trying too hard to be careful."
With this, with us, with you.
It goes unspoken but she feels it there between them, because something in his eyes tells her that he wants to say it, that he almost does. Wanda understands now why this is so hard for him, why he's afraid. He doesn't want to risk this, doesn't want to ruin it, and he won't. She wants to show him that, to comfort him, and as she becomes aware of the way he's still fidgeting with his gloves, she realizes that she knows how to help.
She comes close, only half a step, and takes both of his hands in hers. Her touch doesn't surprise him, not at all. If anything he seems almost relieved that she's here, that she came close to hold his hands. It seems like it helps to comfort him, to make him forget for a moment about everything else, and he lets himself enjoy the softness and certainty of her touch.
"Something happened when you were a soldier? To yours hands?"
Bucky nods, jaw tight. "Yeah, something like that."
He moves away after this, his hands slowly slipping out of hers. She stays nearby, watching him as he tugs the glove off his left hand. Bucky stays quiet through it all, even after he removes the dark fabric of his glove to reveal sleek silver beneath it. A hand made entirely of metal. Wanda spends a long, quiet moment observing his hand, before quickly lifting her eyes to meet his.
"You lost your hand?" she asks, voice much quieter.
He shakes his head, jaw clenched shut for about thirty seconds before forces himself to answer, to finally tell her what he's been keeping to himself, keeping from her, for so long.
"My arm."
Her gaze quickly drops away again, down to the exposed metal hand stretched out in front of her. Wanda lingers for a minute before she follows the fabric of his shirt up to the rest of his arm, to what she can't see but can only imagine is there. She spends a moment like this, quiet and caught up in thoughts of his metal arm, of the pain he must have gone through, how hard this must be for him to talk about. The thoughts make her act on instinct, without hesitation. She reaches for his hand again, not to hold it but to touch the metal surface, to let him know that this isn't a big deal and it doesn't have to be.
For a few seconds after she reaches out, she worries that he will pull his hand away, upset or bothered by her touch. But he doesn't. He seems like he considers it for a moment, thinks about pulling his hand away, because he isn't used to this, and then he changes his mind and stays still, stays close to her, watching as her fingers brush against the shiny metal surface of his wrist. Wanda touches him gently, moving her fingers up to his forearm, where she leaves her hand to rest over the fabric of his shirt and gives his arm a gentle squeeze.
"You were right." she tells him soon, lifting her gaze to meet his. "It isn't a big deal. It doesn't have to be a big deal."
His answers right away. "I know."
"So do you always wear the gloves then?" Wanda asks seconds later, hoping to make him smile. "Or is it more of a fashion choice then? An accessory?"
At first Bucky just shrugs, not really sure how to answer, and then slowly he starts to smile and she sees that he's beginning to relax. His entire body seems a little less tense now, a little less held together, and she feels so relieved to see him like this again. She likes seeing him this way, she likes even more the soft, almost shy smile that he gives her next. There's something special about it, something she knows she won't forget, even long after tonight is over.
"No, not really. I mean, I don't wear them all that much. It was just around you, I was wearing them and I dunno." he sighs, much more relaxed now. "Every time we met, I was wearing the gloves. It just got to the point where it felt weird to tell you or show you. But it wasn't like I was hiding it. Or maybe I was. I don't even really know why though, it's not a big deal."
"You're right, it's not a big deal. We all have our own things that show what we have been through and what we have survived." Wanda nods, giving his arm a soft squeeze. "I think you're brave, and strong, and I'm glad you don't have to carry this on your own anymore. We can carry it together."
This time when he smiles she can see that he means it, more than any of his other smiles in the last few minutes, and it feels nice to see him smile like this again.
"You're too sweet, red."
"I am just being honest, like you were with me. And I'm glad that you were." she smiles, coming closer. "If you don't want to wear the gloves around me anymore, you don't have to. I don't want you to feel like you need to. I want you to do whatever you want, whatever makes you happy. Okay?"
Bucky nods a little, silent as he chews down on his lip and thinks it over. He seems undecided on what he wants to do, and she knows there's not much that she can do to convince him or change his mind. It isn't her place to do that, to change the way he sees things or to change the way he seems himself. She can only support him and hope that one day he will see the man that she does when she looks at him.
"People stare sometimes. They don't always mean to, but they do. And I don't care, not really. I just wanted this to be different. I guess I didn't want you to be staring at me, too. Not for that reason anyway."
Smiling a little, she reaches out and places a hand on his jaw, watching as he softens at the touch like he's been waiting for it. She feels her chest clench at the thought and offers him a wider smile, trying to not get lost too deeply in her mind. She can do that later, right now she just wants to be here with him.
"You are wrong, James. If they are staring, it isn't because of your arm."
He scoffs, not believing a word. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure that's exactly what they're looking at. What else would they be staring at?"
"If they are staring," Wanda pauses, stretching up to press a kiss to his lips. "It's because you are so handsome, they are wondering how someone like you could even exist."
"Oh no. A pity compliment?" Bucky groans, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't know how I feel about that."
She smiles back at him, brushing her fingers along his jaw as his eyes flicker open. It seems like with every touch, every stroke of her fingers against his cheek, Bucky seems to relax. He grows less and less tense, and she so loves seeing him like this. But before they go back to their date, before she tries to distract him from the thoughts she knows he must be dwelling on right now, there's one last thing she needs him to know.
"I don't pity you, James. You are here, you are alive," she points out, letting herself smile slowly. "You are here with me. I have no reason to pity you."
It makes sense to him, she realizes, almost right away. He spends a minute thinking it over before he comes close to her, letting out a quiet breath as he places his hands on either side of her waist, like before but a little different. Already his touch feels less hesitant, less afraid that he's going to hurt her. He never could. Still, she stays aware of his left hand on her waist. How his metal fingers flex ever so subtly against the fabric of her jacket, like he's getting used to what it feels like. That, or he's still trying to be careful. She says nothing, quickly lifting her eyes up to find his and smiling back at him.
"Alright, I guess I'm pretty lucky. And I guess you are, too." he smiles, half-serious and already in a much better mood. "You think I'm handsome, huh? Let's go back to that, because that was pretty interesting and I think I want to talk more about that. What about you?"
Wanda answers with a kiss, stretching up to tentatively brush her lips against his. She kisses him once, gently, only for a second, before she leans back to look at him. She thinks he must spend only three or four seconds watching her before he's kissing her again, his grip on her waist tightening as he leans into her, pressing his lips to hers. She feels her body relax against his, the way it did before, and she lets herself enjoy it, lets herself remember it.
Between kisses, they talk a little.
"What was that, about me being a good dancer?" she asks. "I think I want to hear more about that."
Bucky laughs into the kiss, smiling against her lips. "Oh, yeah. That? I was just saying that. It was a pity compliment, 'cause your dancing is so, so bad. I was just being nice, you know?"
"Oh, yes. I understand." she nods, leaning away. "I think I know exactly what you mean."
"Yeah? Great. That's good. So, um, anyway. I'm glad we did this. And by this, I mean dinner. I love a good meal." he grins, taking a half step back. "And also tonight was fun. I've had a good time with you tonight, red. Can't remember the last time someone made me laugh this much. Usually I'm just laughing at other people, so this was different. It was fun."
"I feel the same way." she smiles, leaning back into the door. "Thank you for tonight. You're right, it's been fun."
"Hey, you don't have to thank me. I should be thanking you for putting up with me." Bucky grins, bumping his fist into her shoulder. "So, did you wanna get out of here? I mean, as homey and warm as this place is...Seems like a nice night for a walk, don't you think? We can take the subway home, I'll walk you to your door. I'll do the whole gentleman thing. How's that sound to you, red? Sound good?"
Her first thought is that she doesn't want tonight to end. She doesn't mind that this part of the night is over, she just wants to spend a little more time with him and she really hopes that he wants that, too.
"Do you want to stay over? You can, if you want."
Bucky considers it, the corners of his eyes creasing a little as he smiles and gives her a look that is both playful and a warning.
"You sure you want that? I mean, I don't know if you heard, but I'm trouble." he points out, barely hiding his grin. "Also, I kick in my sleep. I'm a kicker, and a biter, and maybe even a snorer. I've also heard that I'm a blanket hog. So it doesn't really seem like any of that would be good for you. What do you think? You still in?"
"I think you are nervous. You're afraid of messing things up."
Wanda expects a denial, maybe even a joke or a comment to distract them both from the truth hanging in the air between them. Instead he just smiles in a slow and sweet way that surprises her, both because of how soft it is and because it feels like the very last thing she expected from him right now. Then he comes close again, his arms folded over his chest as he considers it, and it's only now that she sees that his other glove is gone. She realizes that sometime in the last few minutes he slipped it off without her noticing, because he wanted to, because he trusts her.
The thought makes her smile.
"Yeah, something like that. How'd you know that? How do you read my mind, red?" he asks, half-curious, half-suspicious. "It's like you just looked into my head and saw exactly what I was thinking. You know, that's actually kinda weird. I'm starting to think you really are a witch. Are you gonna turn me into gingerbread?"
"It was a lucky guess, that's all." she sighs, nudging him in the side. "And you are thinking of the wrong story. The house was gingerbread, not the children."
Smiling, he takes a step towards her. "That's not a denial. And I'm pretty sure I'm remembering the story just fine. Who would be scared of a gingerbread house? It's gingerbread children that are creepy, not a house. You could just eat the house."
"Mm, so tell me. What are you afraid of? Apart from gingerbread children." Wanda says, serious despite her small smile. "You won't mess anything up. We talked about this, remember?"
He nods, staying close. "I know, I just really don't wanna screw it up. Because you're a decent enough dancer, you're an okay person, and no one really makes me laugh like you do."
Wanda knows that he is teasing her, trying to make her smile, but there is a truth to his words that she understands. That she connects with, because she feels the same way, she feels the same fear of screwing this up. She wants him to know this, to know that they're in this together, but first she wants to make him smile because she so loves seeing it and watching the way it lights up his entire face.
"I didn't think I was that funny."
Bucky smiles, pleased with himself, as he reaches out and tucks a stray hair back behind her ear. It's simple really, just a small gesture, but it still surprises her, still sends a rush of warmth through her cheeks. Wanda tries not to make it obvious, what she feels, what it means to her, and she thinks that it works because he says nothing. If he spots the hint of color that rises in her cheeks, if he notices anything at all, then he says nothing. He just smiles and drops his hand back down to his side.
"That's because you're not. And you're really not a decent dancer, if I'm honest. Man, it feels good to be honest."
She hums, coming close enough to stretch up and press another kiss to his lips. Then she pulls away, watching him soften.
"You won't mess this up, you never could. We won't mess it up." Wanda promises him, meaning every word. "We will have fun, and we will work it out together. How does that sound?"
"Yeah, it's good. It sounds good. You know, you can be real sweet sometimes. It's touching." he smiles, serious for about two seconds. "Speaking of fun things we can do together, I was thinking we could have a rematch before we go. You, me, the dartboard. It's gonna get intense. And probably embarrassing. For you, not me. Loser has to buy the winner's drinks. What do you think? You ready to buy me some drinks? I like whiskey."
Wanda nods, excited. "I like whiskey, too. And I never lose."
"We'll see about that, red."
* * * *
Hours later they end up back at the apartment, drunk and tangled up in each other again.
Well, sort of.
It's a little different to the last time they were like this, mostly because this time they're not tangled up in each other and lost in a moment. This time they're drunk, and wobbly, and holding on to each other so they don't fall over. For the most part Wanda is fine, only unsteady every now and then, but it's a whole different story with Bucky. He's drunk, not just like she is but really drunk. Wasted, she thinks, might be a better word for the way he's been this last hour or so. He can't be trusted to walk anywhere on his own, not without falling over or breaking something.
That's how drunk he is and it's why he's here with her now, why they're messily tangled up in each other, with his arm slung over her shoulder, hers slipped tightly around his waist, to keep him close and help guide him into the dark apartment. They stop by the door once they're inside and Wanda leaves him, only for a second, to quickly lock everything up.
She expects him to wander away, or to make some noise and wake someone in the apartment up, but he doesn't. He stays close, not wandering around like she expects him to. He isn't loud either, not like he was on the way here, bragging about the rounds of pool he won, while conveniently forgetting about all the games he lost. Wanda smiles at the thought and swiftly locks the apartment door, turning back to Bucky, to slip an arm around his waist and steer him far away from her brother's bedroom. He follows quietly, not saying a word at all, and she finds herself wanting to know why. He was so different on the walk here, so chatty, so funny, or at least he thought he was funny, teasing her about her broomstick again.
Wanda smiles at the memory, catching a sideways glance at the quiet man by her side as she decides to say nothing about his silence for now. She pushes it aside for later and guides Bucky to her room, leaving him there while she slips away to fetch aspirin and water for the morning.
When she comes back to her room she discovers that he's not in her room but in the bathroom, the door shut, the water running. She leaves him to it, placing the water and aspirin on the table by the bed and then returning to her dresser to take her boots off. She wiggles out of them slowly, halfway done when Bucky returns to the room, the door creaking as he steps out of the bathroom. She glances up at the sound and smiles, noticing immediately that his hair is damp, slicked back off his face, and his cheeks look a little wet from the water, too.
His eyes seem slightly clearer now but she doesn't trust that, knowing that he is still drunk and unsteady. It's why she watches him carefully, even as she continues to wiggle out of her shoes.
"You okay?" Wanda asks gently, her gaze following him through the dark. "There's water by the bed."
Bucky half-smiles, answering with a nod, as he takes a few slow and unsteady steps towards the bed. When he reaches the edge he plops down onto it, lets out a sigh, and then leans back against it, looking relaxed again. She cherishes the sight and tries to remember it, glancing away only to untie her shoes and place them by the end of the bed. When she's done she kicks the shoes aside and considers peeling off her jeans, but not yet, that can wait, because there's something in Bucky's eyes when she looks up that tells her she's going to want to hear this, whatever it is.
"You're good at it, you know." Bucky says soon, voice warm, honeyed with liquor. "What you do. You're good at it."
Smiling, she takes a step closer. "At, what?"
He gives her a look as if to say you know what I mean. Then he sinks back further into her bed, leaning back on his elbows, a bright and drunken grin spread across his lips, and for a moment she wonders if she has ever seen him so relaxed.
"Games. Games, and dancing, and pool. That stuff."
"Oh, the important stuff you mean?" she grins, watching his eyes brighten. "Well, you are not so bad at it. You were decent enough, at the end."
A soft laugh comes from Bucky, much more reserved than his laugh on the subway. Looking back on the memory now, she doesn't remember much. She's not sure she even remembers what they were laughing at, just that they were laughing so much and for so long that her stomach hurt and for a while after she forgot what it was like to be around him and not laugh. Just thinking of it now brings a smile to her lips, soft and barely there, as she turns back to the dresser to find a change of clothes for bed.
Bucky's voice follows her there, making it clear that whatever this is, whatever he's trying to do, compliment or tease her, that he's not done yet. She puts aside all other thoughts, turning back to him, curious about where exactly this is going and what it is that he's trying to say to her right now.
"Yeah, but you're like..Really good at it. Y'know?" he nods, gaze following her. "And it's impressive. You're impressive, red. That's what I'm trying to say, that you're..."
This time when he loses the words, he doesn't try to find them again. He just laughs a little and she wonders if he doesn't go on because he is drunk and forgets, or if there is something on his mind again that he doesn't know how to share with her. Wanda doesn't pry, instead she just comes closer, gesturing to his brown boots before she kneels down in front of them to help him out of his dirty shoes. And just like last night his hand flies out to catch hers, gently stopping her like he did the first time.
It's different this time, he's different. Wanda stills at the touch, very much aware of the softness of his bare fingers curled around hers.
"You are drunk," she points out, lifting her gaze. "And I am not letting these dirty shoes in my bed."
Bucky's eyes stays on her, even and surprisingly clear for someone who has had as much to drink as he has. She finds that she can't look away, not for a minute, not until he offers her a smile and she knows what it means. It's his silent thanks for her help, for getting him back here. She smiles back up at him then quickly unties the laces on his left boot, helping him out of it and then swiftly moving on to the next one. She only stops when she hears his voice, what feels like minutes later, and she feels a pull to look up at him again, so she does.
"You're too kind, red." he says, quiet afterwards.
He says this but she knows what he really means. She knows because it's written over his face, because they've been here before.
You're so good. Too good. And I'm just—
Not, she thinks, is the word that comes next. The word he doesn't say tonight. She still remembers it well and she wishes she could convince him otherwise, that she could show him what she sees when she looks at him. But she decides against it, saying nothing for now, because he is too drunk, because they have had too much fun tonight to talk of such things. It will have to wait for another time, she decides, and continues to work on his laces, quiet until she looks up at him a minute later.
"You are kind, too. You would do the same for me, wouldn't you?"
Bucky hums a soft yes, saying nothing else as he watches her tug off his shoe. Then she stands, helping him to his feet moments later. She places a soft arm around his waist and helps him move around to the side of the bed where he can rest, get comfortable, and maybe get a few hours sleep before the sun rises. But before he gets far, before she can help him there, she realizes that he's still wearing his jacket and it really doesn't look soft enough to fall asleep in so she decides to help him out of it.
She starts by tugging the jacket down to his shoulders, her fingers brushing against the dark fabric of the t-shirt beneath it. Whatever she intends to do after that she forgets, because seconds later he's kissing her and everything else fades away again. There's nothing else, no one else, only the two of them here in her room, kissing in the dark. Wanda softens at his touch, at the feeling of his lips against hers, and she comes closer. Her hands slip from where they were on his shoulders, falling idly by her side as she kisses him back.
They spend a moment like this, standing together at the end of her bed, tangled up in each other, sharing soft and delicate kisses. Then slowly it changes between them, she begins to feel the hesitancy slip away, turning into something warmer and more familiar. Bucky comes closer, deepening the kiss as he lifts a hand to her jaw, cupping her cheek gently, as if he's both trying to keep her there and trying to feel her just to know that this is real and not a dream. She wonders if she's doing the same thing, with the way she ends up clinging to his side.
It won't last, she already knows that, she thinks that she's always known. It's late, and they're both drunk, and they really shouldn't be kissing like this when they've both had a little too much to drink, but she lets herself enjoy it for just a little longer before it ends. When it's over, they stay close to each other like they can't walk away, can't leave yet.
Her eyes open slowly and she discovers that he's smiling, so softly, so clearly, and she loves the sight. Wanda smiles back at him, feeling herself soften just to see him like this. So open, so happy. She reaches out slowly, tucking back a damp strand of hair behind his ear. When she's done her hand lingers, brushing along the side of his jaw before she drops it away and lets it fall back down to her side again.
Minutes later, she's the first to speak.
"It's late, isn't it? You are drunk. We are drunk. Too drunk, I think.."
"Yeah, I know. I know, I think I just.." he stops, smiling more. "You're just—god, you're so beautiful. And I just got carried away, because you're just—I should shut up. I'm drunk, I should shut up. It's better if I do."
"No, don't. I like what you say. Sometimes." Wanda teases, staying close. "Really, you should be in bed. You had a lot to drink tonight, you need to rest."
Then she helps him get to the bed, a hand slipped around his waist again as she guides him there. He sinks down onto the edge of the mattress with a sigh then looks up at her, still smiling.
"You always know the right thing to say."
Wanda hums, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze before she leaves. She doesn't go far this time, just to her dresser to grab a change of clothes for bed. She changes quickly, swapping her jeans for a pair of soft, baggy black sweats and an over-sized green shirt. When she's dressed she turns back to Bucky, finding him stretched out on her bed, his eyes shut, face half-shadowed by the night.
He only opens his eyes again when she plops down on the bed next to him and he feels the mattress dip just a little. His eyelids flutter open then and he seeks her out, smiling as she stretches out next to him. It takes her a minute to get comfortable but she eventually does, settling next to him, her legs bumping against his, her elbows touching his. It feels nice here, she thinks, as the quiet seeps in. It always feels nice being here with him, having him by her side as she drifts off to sleep. She can't explain it, to him or to herself, but there's just something soothing about his company.
She doesn't let herself think about it any more than that and turns her gaze up to meet his, smiling as he bumps his elbow against hers. He looks happy here, she realizes, even if he looks tired. There's something about being this close to him, somewhere so dark, so faraway from everything else, that makes things feel clearer than they've been in a while. He looks wearier than she first thought, and she knows that it's not just from all the drinks.
She thinks it must be more than that, must be from the fight he had the other night, the one he showed up to her work bleeding from. That, or it's what's been weighing on his mind for so long. His secret, his arm. Maybe he's exhausted with relief from it finally being out there, from knowing that it doesn't have to be a big deal and he doesn't have to carry it all on his own.
"I don't always know what to say." she says a while later. "I just act like I do. So everyone thinks that I do.."
"I find that hard to believe, but okay. If you say so, then I believe it." Bucky smiles, watching her through sleepy eyes. "I really should shut up sometimes though. I can say dumb shit, especially when I'm drunk. Or so I've been told."
Wanda smiles back, her mind stuck on a new thought.
"Tell me something I don't know about you?" she smiles. "Something I would never guess."
Curious, he lifts an eyebrow. "Like, what?"
"I don't know. Just something."
Bucky spends a few minutes considering her question before he answers, and as he does she leaves him to it, straying briefly away from thoughts of him to her memories of tonight. Of drinks, and dancing, and Bucky's smile under the city lights as they made their way back here. She remembers that, remembers his arm over her shoulder, soft and protective, as they walked home together. And she remembers thinking if she could she'd never leave, that she'd always stay there in that moment with him, that she'd go back to that little dive-bar with him every night.
It's only now that she begins to realize how much she craves it. His touch, being close to him, just being around him. She doesn't know if she should, if it's all too sudden, too much to want of someone that she really hasn't known that long. But she doesn't want to see it that way, doesn't want to stop what she feels for him. She knows that this thing between them was never supposed to be something. It was only meant to be fun, a distraction, free of complications and mess, and for so long that's all it was but it's different now and she doesn't want to pretend like it isn't.
"I used to draw, I bet you didn't know that."
"What" she smiles, curious. "Really?"
"Why do you sound so surprised?" he grins, as his eyes slowly shut. "People are always surprised. I dunno why."
In the silence that follows Wanda spends a moment watching him, imagining all of the lovely and wonderful things he might have drawn. She smiles thinking about it, and how much it means that he decided to share this with her, to tell her something she never would have guessed. It isn't the first thing he's found the courage to tell her about tonight and thinking about how hard that must have been, to share that truth with her, to talk about his arm, makes her want to share with him.
She loses the courage, leaving it for another time, as she shifts her full attention back to him. Wanda rolls over on to her side slowly, smiling up at Bucky through the darkness, as she feels herself slowly filling up with questions for him. She wants to know, to see, to learn it all, but for the moment she settles on just one question.
"Do you still draw?"
Bucky shakes his head. "Nah, not really. I used to back when I was a kid. But I haven't in..Forever."
She smiles at the thought. "Were you any good at it?"
The hint of a smile flickers across his face, appearing slowly, as he looks back on what she imagines must be memories of his childhood.
"Mom used to say I was. And so did Steve." he pauses, slowly grinning more. "But I don't think that counts."
For a while after this, Bucky grows quiet. He gets lost in old memories, spending a few minutes dwelling on them, but there's something about it that feels nice. He looks peaceful, as if just thinking about those old memories, of his mother, of his youth with Steve, has sent a wave of calm over him.
"They weren't that good." he says, minutes later, nose scrunched up. "From what I remember, they weren't good at all.."
He trails off again after this, lost in another memory, or maybe he's lost to the haze of whiskey and beer hanging over his head. Wanda stays quiet through it, waiting patiently until he comes back to her, until he works out what he wants to say next and finds a way out of his memories for now.
"Your turn now, doll." Bucky says, slowly glancing up at her. "Something I don't know about you. Something I'd never guess."
It doesn't come to her easily. Her answer, what she wants to say. She just can't think of what to say, what to keep to herself. His answer came to him so easily, yet she struggles with hers, so much that he becomes aware of it. He must see it, that or he thinks she's just too tired and too drunk to work out what to say, because soon he finds something else for the two of them to talk about it and it makes her smile.
"Teach me something else?" he suggests tiredly. "Teach me something in Sokovian?"
The idea is sweet, she thinks, as she watches him roll over on his side to face her. She quickly moves away, pulling up the blanket from the end of the bed and covering the two of them with it. Then she settles in by his side, warm and happy underneath the soft blanket sprawled out over their tired, curled up bodies.
"You are so drunk, and you are almost asleep." she points out. "You won't remember it, or if you do then you won't say it right."
Bucky offers her a look, one that she reads easily, despite the darkness, and the drinks, and the sleepy haze she feels coming over her. She wonders if it was ever really gone or if she just forgot about it because of what she felt when she kissed him.
(want, need, adrenaline, warmth)
"My memory's not so bad. C'mon, try me."
She smiles at the challenge, then spends a minute thinking it over, wondering what it is that she wants to teach him. Whatever she says now she doubts he will remember in the morning, not clearly anyway. But still, she knows that he is determined to do this and she doesn't mind. It's been a long time since she shared this part of her life with someone else, it feels nice.
"Laku noć."
Good night.
He doesn't know what it means, but when he hears her speak he smiles anyway. She only notices it now, how curious he seems, how closely he is looking at her. She tries not to dwell on it and just focuses on the way Bucky repeats the small words. For someone as drunk as he is, he really doesn't do too badly.
"Can I guess what it means?" he asks soon, grinning. "It means that I'm cute, doesn't it?"
Wanda smiles, both because he is sweet and because of course that's what he thinks it means. She finds herself laughing soon, more than she means to, and Bucky joins her. The quiet sounds of their laughs fill up the apartment soon and eventually she has to shush him, for fear of waking her brother so late. By then Bucky's laugh is too deep, too loud, that she gives up and sees no point in trying to get him to be quiet.
She soon realizes that she doesn't want to, that there's a part of her that's tired of hiding this and just wants it to be out there so they don't have to be so quiet, so careful. Wanda almost tells Bucky this, she comes so close, but something stops her. It's a voice, small, in the back of her head, telling her not to talk about this tonight. He has talked about enough, it tells her, warning her not to push for anything else, so she doesn't.
"It means good night." she says a while later.
Bucky's laugh fizzles out slowly, the traces of a smile lingering on his lips afterwards. For some reason it's only now that she becomes aware of how close they are in bed, their legs bumping against each others every now and then, their faces almost touching. It somehow feels more intimate than anything else, because on the others night he spent in her bed, falling asleep with her, it was never like this. They were never facing each other, never this close, this open.
"Ahh, so I wasn't close." Bucky says soon, as if aware of her thoughts, of the quiet. "Too bad. I really thought I had that one."
"We will try something else then?" she suggests, and he nods. "Here is one, try this: Sladak si."
"Sladak si." he repeats, his lips twisting into a smile. "Let me guess, I got this one. It means I'm a jerk, doesn't it? Or something like that."
"You're cute. That's what it means."
This time when he laughs, he does it with his entire body. It's a hearty, deep laugh, one that she's never really heard from him before. And she doesn't care that it's so loud, doesn't care that it will absolutely wake someone in the apartment up. He looks so beautiful, so happy, here in her bed that she can't bring herself to care about anyone else, only him.
"Of course it does. By the way, I like it. It sounds nice coming from you." he pauses, softening. "Anything sounds nice coming from you. Sladak si, to you."
"Mm. You are not so bad at it. You just need some practice." Wanda answers, watching as his eyes shut. "And if you want to say that I am cute, or that another girl is, then you would say it like this: slatka si."
The smile stays on his lips, even after his eyes shut and he repeats the new phrase three or four times. When he goes quiet a minute later she begins to feel curious about what's on his mind. She often finds herself thinking about that, about Bucky and what is on his mind. For a moment she longs to know what he is thinking about, she comes close to asking, but in the end she doesn't. She stays quiet, watching as his smile grows.
"Thanks for all your help, red. Guess I'm lucky I've got such a good teacher."
She hums quietly, saying nothing, as she lets her own eyes shut. It's hard not to close them, to not be pulled in by the warmth of the blanket, or how nice it feels falling asleep with him. It's more than nice, it feels safe, feels like she might actually get a few hours of sleep before the sun rises. She usually finds it much harder to sleep, to drift off and rest uninterrupted, but there's just something about his company that makes it so much easier.
"James, thank you for tonight. For the drinks, and the bike, and the date." she says a while later, voice soft again. "It was fun, more fun than I thought I could have. I wanted you to know this, and I also wanted to thank you."
"Thank me? For what?" Bucky asks, sounding as if he's smiling. "My rugged good looks? My charming company? Or my sense of humor? It's a long list, doll. You might wanna be a bit more specific."
Wanda imagines that he is smiling, and when she cracks open her eyes she discovers that he is, that his eyes are open and he's watching her, grinning like he's pretty pleased with himself right now. She lets herself remember it, focusing not on the way he's watching her but on his smile, so small yet so bright.
"For your company, yes. It was fun." she nods, quiet for a moment. "But also, you were honest with me. And sometimes I think that it has been a while.."
"Since someone was honest with you?"
"Yes and no." Wanda admits, shifting her gaze away. "I think maybe it has been a while since I have been honest with someone else, too."
Bucky stays quiet afterwards, even though it's clear that her words mean something to him. Whatever they mean, he keeps to himself. He says nothing, just watches her as her mind bounces around, between old memories and past regrets. It's why she decides to be honest now, to not keep this to herself, to not give herself something else to regret.
"I like being around you. I feel happy here with you." she pauses, glancing down at him. "Sometimes I find it hard to enjoy things. I don't know why. But when you're here, it's easier. It feels nice, feels better than it has in a long time."
For the first few seconds he says nothing at all. Bucky stays still, his warm eyes darting over her face as he gives her a look that lets her know he understands, that he feels the same. Then he reaches out, tucking back a strand of hair behind her ear, just like before. His touch lingers for a moment after, brushing along her jaw before he pulls it away, and after its gone she realizes that she isn't hit with a rush of cold air. She doesn't feel cold at all. She feels warm, feels like his hand is still there and like it will be for the rest of the night.
"It's the same with me." he says soon, voice gentle. "I don't know why. I don't know if we'll ever know why."
She hums, feeling tired. "So, do you want to know something about me? Something you could never guess?"
"Of course. Wait, let me have a guess. I've got it this time: You can play the harp."
This time she's the one that bursts out laughing, so hard that her stomach hurts, so loud that she will probably wake someone up. But that doesn't even really cross her mind. She just lets herself laugh, lets herself enjoy how it feels to be around him, as her burst of laughter softens into a giggle that she almost doesn't recognize. It's just been so long since she laughed like this, so freely, so openly, that it feels new, feels like it's coming from someone else, someone happy.
"Do you even know what you are saying right now?" she asks, wiggling closer to him. "You are so tired, so drunk, you don't know what you are saying. And the apartment is tiny. Where would we keep this harp?"
He smiles, seeming pleased with himself, both for his joke and for making her laugh like that. Bucky seems to linger in it for a minute before he answers.
"It was just a guess. Clearly, not a good one. So tell me, what don't I know about you? What super special secret do I get to know tonight?"
"Do you remember the night you first came here?" she asks softly. "When we sat on the floor by the window. Do you remember that?"
His face softens suddenly. "With the weed and the beer? Yeah, that was the night of Stark's party. Of course I remember that. What about it, red?"
"I liked you back then. That night, at the apartment, at the party," Wanda pauses, smiling more. "I thought you were funny, and charming, and for a moment I wanted to kiss you."
Bucky's eyes widen as he smiles, uncertain at first, like he doesn't want to believe her or like he thinks she must be teasing him. Then he see that she means it, that this isn't a joke, and he lets himself hear what she's saying.
"So you did think I looked good in that suit, huh? I knew it." he grins proudly. "Just so you know..I wanted to kiss you, too. So I'm glad we did that again tonight. I'm glad we did all of it."
She smiles, watching him in the dark through weary eyes before slowly she closes them, giving in to the warmth again.
"Me too."
"Just so you know, I think you'd be pretty good at the harp." Bucky says, what feels like hours later. "I feel like that'd be your thing."
Wanda cracks an eye open, already smiling.
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I can see it. That, or the big one with the horn." he goes on, as a laugh rises in his throat. "What's that one? Oh, it's the sousaphone. I think that's right? Yeah, you seem like you could play that pretty well. It looks heavy but you seem like you could carry it."
"Sousaphone? No. That's not real." Wanda crinkles her nose. "That can't be a real thing."
He grins back at her, in a way that doesn't make it at all clear if he's serious or just teasing her. She gives up on trying to read him and closes her eyes, smiling as the warmth seeps back in. Then she reaches out, aiming her foot for his shin and kicking him back. He pretends that it hurts, wincing and tugging his foot away, before he starts to laugh again.
She thinks they must spend the next five or so minutes laughing before slowly it fizzles out and they end up in the quiet again. It seeps in slowly, not awkward or unwanted. Just quiet, just calm, as they begin to drift off to sleep. And it feels good, feels so good and warm with him, that for the briefest moment before she falls asleep she admits to herself that she could get used to this.
What a dangerous thought.