Little Wing - Bucky Barnes x OC

Cotton Candy and Bloody Noses

A/N: I feel like I've said this before, but this is probably one of my favorite chapters in this story. Little bit of fluff, little bit of steaminess.

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Ever since what Dove started referring to as 'The Drive' in her journal, Bucky seemed to pay no mind to his hesitations about her.

He'd find any reason he could to do small things for her. Whether it was discreetly pulling out her chair at dinner or leaving a cup of coffee out for her in the morning or offering her rides when she went to hang out with her friends— he'd do it.

Slowly, they picked up a routine of sorts. They'd spend their mornings together at the small table in the backyard before parting ways to go about their respective plans. Dove had no idea where Bucky was always rushing off to after their time together, since her curiosity ended with thoughts of her own social life, but regardless, she was happy they always started their days together.

A few times when Dove had slept in, she would always rush outside apologizing like she had an obligation to be there. Behaving like she was late for a class or something, because of how much she genuinely valued the time spent with him. She'd drop what she called her 'things' down on the table. Her tattered journal, two black pens, whatever novel she was reading that day, sunglasses, and usually made another trip inside for some kind of snack and drink. Whether is was orange slices or crackers or cherries with a pitcher of water or iced tea, she always brought out enough for them to share.

Their table was always covered in his sketches and her writing, with their snacks and drinks placed unceremoniously between them. The radio always sat at the edge, turned down low enough for them to focus on their projects or just talk with each other.

It had been a week straight of the same thing every morning. They both looked forward to it every night before bed, planning out what they wanted to quiz the other about. Excited to pick each other's brains apart, playing their never ending game of mental ping pong.

Although they were together frequently, the time was always appropriate. There was the occasional flirty comment, or coded conversation, but they were careful to keep everyone's suspicions at bay. More specifically, not wanting to set Steve off again. They simply allowed the household to believe they were developing a mutual respect and maybe even a friendship; that adulthood had done them both some good and they were putting aside those once bitter sentiments about the other.

The whole thing was driving them a little mad though, not being able to touch the other how they wanted. It had been seven long days since they went on the drive and had gotten a taste of what they desired. And every moment spent together since, it was all they could think about. Bucky swore, Dove was purposely wearing the least amount of clothing she could without warranting any objections from her dad— not that they were talking for that matter, since Joseph had been flat out ignoring her existence since their fight.

And sure enough, there she was with her sugary smile, wearing one of her tiny ensembles: a knit halter top and a pair of denim shorts. Sprinting barefoot out the back door, into the hot sunlight, over the grass and towards the table. Her hands were full with a bowl of freshly washed strawberries and blueberries, a pitcher of ice water, and two glasses tucked under her arm. "Morning," she breezed.

Bucky smiled at her, eyes raking over her as she jogged across the yard. "Morning?" he questioned, looking at his watch. "It's almost noon."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, setting down their snacks on the table as he brushed aside some of his papers to make room. "I went to the fair with Mj again last night and I didn't get home until late."