It's 2025, two years post blip and photography student Rosie Dylan is still learning how to rebuild her life. She's just trying to get to graduation and make enough cash to pay her rent. But then Captain America leaves her an unexpected voicemail.
...
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A/N: No big warnings this chapter. Nightmare/small panic attack with Bucky and then him being snappy/grumpy/emotional and not leaving a great first impression.
I'm struggling to get the ball rolling a little bit with this fic (I'm thinking too far ahead as usual). I think I've nearly got these early chapters figured out now but please bear with me, it might seem a little slow going at first! ____________
"Fuck."
Bucky stills, presses a chaste kiss to her lips and rolls to the side. The mattress bounces with his weight as he drops. He lies there quietly, staring at the ceiling as Jasmine breathes deeply beside him and he glances over to see her olive skin glistening as her chest heaves.
He's gotta stop doing this.
He sighs and moves to sit on the edge of his bed. He's still hard. He could have kept going but his whole body hurts. One of the lacerations he sutured earlier has split open again and he's got that heavy dull feeling in his chest that even another orgasm isn't going to cure.
He's not felt it in a long time but this last mission really fucked with his head.
Standing to his feet, he's about to head to the bathroom to fix up his wound when his phone buzzes to life. The low vibrations thundering against the wood of his bedside cabinet makes Jasmine jump behind him and he gives her an apologetic smile over his shoulder before answering the call.
"Yeah."
"Do you ever say hello?"
"What do you want, Sam?"
"Come pick Rosie up from the airport with me later."
Bucky groans. He forgot that she arrives today. The past two weeks have been completely consumed by the mission, everything is out of synch.
"No."
"What's up, Bucky?" Jasmine asks. She's behind him now, arms snaking over his shoulders and fingers dancing over his chest. He can feel her breasts pressed to his back, her lips trailing lazily over his neck. Warm and sweet and distracting. His cock flexes against his stomach in response.
"You got a girl there?! Alright, Bucknasty! Not even home for two hours and you're getting laid!"
"Shut up, Sam!" Bucky hisses, "your voice carries like a fuckin' foghorn."
Sam makes the sound of a horn in retaliation and Bucky has to hold the phone away from his ear. He pinches the bridge of his nose, huffing out a sigh of exasperation.
"I don't need to be there, Sam. She's your wedding photographer."
Sam chuckles.
"Yeah. But I know you, Buck. You're gonna sit by yourself all day and wallow over the mission. It wasn't your fault, man. Torres is gonna be fine, Kate went with him to the hospital and he's got a few broken ribs at most. He's suffered worse. Thought maybe you'd wanna see Miss Dylan in person, is all. Might perk you up a bit."
