I've Got you Under my Skin

Chapter 5

Sam threw a party for Natasha's birthday the weekend after Bucky and his class got back from their trip to Washington DC. It had been over a month since he last saw you, but Bucky couldn't stop thinking about you.

There was chemistry between you, and he wanted more than a physical relationship. He wasn't sure how, but he had developed feelings for you.

Now all he had to do was get past his fear of losing you, and tell you how he felt. He'd never been good at expressing his feelings and he didn't quite know how to put them into words.

Steve plumped down on the sofa next to him, interrupting his train of thought. He held out a bottle of beer to his friend but Bucky shook his head.

"Nah, thanks. I brought my bike t'night. Don't wanna crash it."

Steve nodded but didn't say a word. Bucky could tell there was more he wanted to say. He frowned when Steve began picking at the label on the bottle. It was one of his many nervous quirks.

"I know you wanna say something, so say it," Bucky mumbled.

Steve turned his head to look at him, then his eyes darted to the keychain in Bucky's hand. "It's cute. Is that from D.C?"

Bucky sighed. "Yes."

"You gonna give it to someone?"

"What's with the interrogation, Detective Rogers?" Bucky asked with a little grin. "I thought you were off duty."

"Hilarious," Steve deadpanned, taking a swig of beer. "You know, at the academy they tell you that when suspects answer questions with questions, it usually means they're trying to hide something."

"I'm not hidin anythin. You know me, I'm an open book."

"Uh-uh."

They both fell silent. Bucky was playing with the keychain in his hand, his knee bouncing up and down. Steve followed the direction of Bucky's gaze and found you sitting by the window. He smiled knowingly.

"You know," Steve spoke after a moment, "Sophie told me something interesting the other day."

"Yeah?" Bucky replied, only half listening.

"She said that you almost kissed her favorite aunt."

Bucky turned to Steve. "She didn't say that."

Steve shrugged. "Not exactly. She said you were on the couch tickling each other and then you stopped and had a staring contest. I'm not five, I connected the dots."

"Great solve, Detective Rogers," Bucky grumbled.

"Buck," he sighed, "I don't like meddling, that's Nat's thing, but I see the way you look at her. Don't wait too long, you never know what might happen."

"I don't-" Bucky started, struggling to put his feelings into words. "I'm not- I can't..." He groaned, closing his eyes, giving up.

"You like her," Steve said with an encouraging smile.

"No," Bucky replied but before Steve could object, he continued, "I think I'm in love with her."

"Oh..."

Bucky laughed, though it held no humour. "Yeah, now I guess I have to break the news t'her without freakin her out. Got any tips, Steve?"

"You know I'm clueless when it comes to women." They both laughed at this. Steve slung his arm over his friend's shoulders. "Talk to her before I tell Nat what I saw in her kitchen the other night." He gave him a pointed look.

So as it turned out Steve had seen the two of you wrapped up in each other's arms. Bucky sighed. He didn't need Natasha's constant meddling. No, his life was complicated enough.

"That's low, Rogers, even for you," Bucky joked, a worried frown on his face.

Steve shrugged in response and patted Bucky on the back. "Cheer up, Buck."

Bucky gave Steve one last glance before he made his way over to you. His legs were on autopilot and his heart was thumping in his chest, but somehow he managed to keep his expression neutral.

He held the keychain tight in his closed fist and sat next to you on the windowsill, the two of you facing forward. Steve had challenged Sam, who was wearing Natasha's birthday crown, to a dance off. No one was paying attention to you or Bucky.

"Hey," Bucky said, bumping his shoulder against yours. You could barely hear him over the racket. "How're you?"

You smiled at him. "Good. I haven't seen you in a while."

"Miss me?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes," you deadpanned, looking him straight in the eye.

Bucky's heart tripped dangerously. He felt as if he was on a rollercoaster, when the car tips over the top of the hill and plunges down the loop and it feels like you weigh less than a feather.

"I missed you, too."

You must have sensed the tension between you because you quickly steered the conversation to safer ground. "How was D.C?"

He cleared his throat and gave you a smile before answering, "Hectic, but nice. Thirty kids, three adults; you kinda wish you were an octopus."

You both laughed at the mental image it put in your heads.

It felt strange –making small talk with you. It wasn't unpleasant, just different. There was so much he wanted to tell you but he couldn't find the right words.

"By the way," you said, breaking the silence between you, "I wanted to thank you for sharing your story with me the other night. I know that must have been difficult."

Bucky's hand instinctively went to his shoulder where his scar was. Painful memories. But then he remembered the delicate touch of your fingers as you had traced the line of his scar. It had been comforting, soothing.

He turned his head toward the makeshift dance floor where Sam and Steve were arguing while doing the Running Man. Bucky sighed. He couldn't pour his heart out while these two doofuses were having a dance off in the background.

"You okay?" You gently touched his arm. "You look upset. Is it something I said?"

Bucky blinked a few times, trying to clear his thoughts, and turned to meet your gaze. There was genuine worry in your eyes, and it made his stomach ache.

"No," he quickly replied, shaking his head. "In fact-" he swallowed hard "I think you're the only one keeping me sane."

Feeling a little brave, he inched his hand closer and closer to yours, until they touched. You looked down at your hand, then back up at him, observing him closely.

He slid his hand under your own and pressed a small, round object into your palm. You folded your fingers over the warm metal while holding Bucky's gaze.

"In case you want to start a new collection," he whispered into your ear. He pulled away from you, his lips brushing your temple. "Can I stop by your place later?"

He wanted to talk, in private, but he was terrified. He was scared that you might not share his feelings or that you didn't want more than casual angry sex. And he was so nervous that he didn't realize that it was the question he would ask every time he wanted to have sex with you.

He also didn't notice the disappointed look on your face and the way your smile didn't reach your eyes when you nodded. It wasn't clear whether his feelings for you were changing or if he just wanted to have sex.

Once he was gone, you looked down at your hand and saw a Capitol Hill Building keychain, the words 'United States, Washington D.C.' were engraved on the gold toned oval.

"Bucky Barnes," you muttered to yourself, "you'll be the death of me."