“There, shift a little bit to the left.” Bucky instructs (Y/N) from behind the closed doors of the training room.
“Faster?””
“Yeah, like that,” Bucky says. “Harder, (Y/N).”
“Nghh.” (Y/N) groans, sweat dripping from her forehead.
Bucky smiles, satisfied. “Good, now try it from this angle.” He holds her hips with his metal fingers and positions her legs with the other.
“Twist your body (Y/N).” His palms on her thighs, spreading them wider. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” (Y/N) mumbles, biting her lip in concentration.
“Go!” Bucky lets go of her and raises his hands. In a swift move, (Y/N) throws punches at his palm.
“Haiya!” (Y/N) exclaims, landing her hardest blow. Her fist collides with Bucky’s palm and she regretted it right after. (Y/n) felt her body topple and pain shooting up her ankle.
“AAAAAAAHHHH!” She yells bracing herself for impact. Instead, she finds him holding onto her. His sturdy grip on her torso, and his pinky brushing her bare skin.
What is wrong with her? She might not be able to walk for a while and all she can think about is how cold his arm is. “I got you, (Y/N).”
“Okay, I’m going to teeter you.” She gasps as he tries to steady her.
“Bucky, you don’t- ah!”
“Plan B.” All of a sudden, it’s like her feet was swept from under her, as if she’s floating on a magic carpet. Well, actually balancing herself on the arms of Bucky, who was carrying her bridal style.
“Bucky, it hurts.” The pain grows to be very close to unbearable, and (Y/N)’s face is attacked with multiple winces.
“Breathe, we’re almost there,” the Winter Soldier said, carrying her to the medical room.
“I can’t-”
“Come on, (Y/N).” His voice coaxingly soft, like warm milk. He kisses her arm, as he strides towards a gurney.
(Y/N) muffles a cry as he gently lays her on the soft cushion. “Good girl.”
He ransacks the cabinet before returning with bandage, and then goes over to the mini fridge for a bottle of beer and a pack of ice. “Drink the beer, it numbs the pain.”
“You know there are other ways to get me drunk,” (Y/N) jokes, watching Bucky pop the bottle cap open with his metal thumb.
He chugs the beer and presses the ice on her ankle. “Fine, then tell me where it hurts.”
“Let me guess,” Bucky says, taking hold of her hands and bringing them to his lips. “Here?” She nods. His metal fingers are frigid from the ice pack, and his kiss on her knuckles as soft as flower petals.
“Where else?” She bites her lips, before letting her palm rest on his cheek. In a split second, his rough lips daintily devour hers. Her hands roam his body, tugging his hair. The kiss is nothing near brief, still all too soon Bucky pulls away.
(Y/N) whines and Bucky smirks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying my lips on yours.”
“Excuse me. You were the one who kissed me, soldier.”
“Are you sure, Miss-I-sprained-my-ankle-to-kiss-the-handsome-Bucky?” Bucky gestured at (Y/N). Who is now leaning on the gurney for support, but has her feet planted on the ground. Oops.
“Shut up and kiss me,” (Y/N) commands, blushing hard.
“Is that an order?”
“You bet your ass, sergeant.” No words can describe how fast his lips are on hers again.
---
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