I've Got you Under my Skin

Chapter 6

You started to pace back and forth in front of your door, waiting for Bucky. You lived in a quiet neighbourhood and it was already fairly late so you easily picked up the sound of his bike. It sent your heart racing.

You wanted to be more than a booty call, and sometimes it felt like your relationship was evolving, but you weren't so sure since Bucky kept sending you mixed signals. It was a little frustrating. You had to have an honest conversation with him. You needed to know where you stood. The only problem was that talking about your feelings made your skin crawl.

Three knocks at your door pulled you out of your reverie. You blinked yourself back to the present and went to open the door. There he was, standing in front of you with his motorcycle helmet in hand, the man who had stolen your heart.

A twinge of anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach, and you realised that you weren't brave enough to face your feelings. Instead, you grabbed his arm and pulled him into your apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Old habits die hard...

Bucky dropped his helmet on the floor and offered no resistance when you pushed him against the wall and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He closed his eyes when his back touched the wall, his body shuddering under your touch. He knew he should have stopped you, but reason and logic went right out the window when you touched him.

His breathing hitched as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He braced himself for more, but nothing came. Startled, he opened his eyes and found you staring at the scar on his shoulder.

You had never seen his scar, though you remembered the way it had felt under your fingertips. Seeing it now was unnerving, not because it was puckered and discoloured, but because you realised you had never paid attention to it before. You hadn't cared enough to notice it.

Thing had changed between you, and this new realisation gave you the push you needed to talk with him. You couldn't bury your head in the sand and pretend you didn't love him.

"Does it still hurt?" you asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Not as much as seein you cry," Bucky replied quietly.

You didn't know what to say. He placed his hands on your hips, a gentle reminder that he wasn't going anywhere, and moved his thumbs in small circles. The gesture was comforting and helped to relieve some of the tension.

"When I said I wanted to see you tonight," he spoke calmly, looking you in the eye, "it wasn't because I wanted t'have sex with you. There's somethin I've been meanin to tell you, and I thought it'd be easier to talk when it's just the two of us.... but it's not."

"Tell me," you begged, your voice just above a whisper. "Please."

His biggest fear was that you might laugh in his face, but one look at your eyes told him all he needed to know and his fear simply vanished.

"You gotta understand that I'd never thought I'd find someone who I can be myself around. It's easier to pretend I don't need anyone. And it doesn't matter if no one ever loves me." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then I met you," he gauged your expression, saw the smirk on your face. "Okay, granted it took me a few years to really see you-"

"More like a decade," you teased, relieved to hear him say those words. "Was it hate at first sight?"

"Absolutely," he deadpanned. "More seriously, doll, I never hated you. We're both passionate people with strong opinions-"

"Like what you should and shouldn't put on your pizza?" you said in a serious tone, but the twitching corners of your mouth gave you away.

"Exactly," he played along, "and I'm glad I won this argument."