Redemption ||Bucky Barnes||

23. Pillow Talk

We don't make it to the bedroom. We don't even make it towards the hall.

The fire still crackles behind Bucky's back as we're snuggled on the carpet, under a blanket, tenderly kissing. I'm not happy about him hogging all the fire heat, but I've got his natural heat to make up for it. None of our clothes met a fiery end, though they aren't in neat piles either. They kind of got tossed around this way and that.

I've never felt so content, so safe.

"Next time, we try the bed," he whispers, his fingers tracing patterns on my exposed back.

"Aw, is someone a little sore?" I tease, pouting at him. I have an arm around his waist, allowing very little space between us. We don't want to separate "You started it."

"I never said you had to go with it. All it would have took was a simple 'no.'"

I roll my eyes. "But the pain was worth it." I hook a leg over his, making us sort of tangled like we had been earlier.

He nods. "The pain was worth it." He closes his eyes, I kiss the tip of his nose. My nails rake gently into his back, I feel him relax.

Truthfully, I'll probably feel sorer than Bucky will. I'm sure I'll sport more bruising thanks to him.

"Should I check the fire?" I ask through a yawn.

"Nah, I'll do it." He lifts himself up with his arms, grunts as he stretches. My heart runs at seeing him like this, so bare, so exposed. He flips over, grabs the poker, and starts moving the fiery logs in the fireplace. I watch the taunt muscles in his shoulders and his back move. It's hard to imagine how he had looked when he had been the Winter Soldier.

The Bucky I see now has no hard expression or intensity. Well, intensity is there, just not the murderous kind.

He doesn't rejoin me right away; he remains at the freshly poked fire. Something's consuming his thoughts. He's got his bare back to me, long dark hair falling in all directions. I'm on my side, covered by a blanket, watching him silently. I bite my lip. Is he regretting what just happened? Is something else on his mind?

How can he regret something like that? I shiver delicately at the ghosts of the feelings: the sharp, quick stings; the good twisting inside of my stomach when he hit a sensitive spot; slender fingers tracing all contours of my body; possessive lips attacking any exposed flesh his eyes set themselves on; the euphoria that I wanted to live in forever.

"Something bothering you?" I ask gently. I see him visibly relax at my voice.

"I'm fine, Dani."

"You know I don't believe that." I sit up, wincing as sore muscles begin to throb. "Seriously, Buck, what is it?"

"Is this our lives now?"

Where is this coming from? "What do you mean?"

He twists to look at me; I go scarlet just feeling his gaze on me. "We're playing house until we die?"

It is a question that I thought about in one form or another. Was this how our lives were going to turn out? Would we forever be in hiding, away from Hydra's always-searching eyes? Would we reunite with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Sometimes I forget we're apart of such a fading organization, one that's a target for the former organization we both once worked in.

"We'll get a rendezvous point soon and rejoin the others," I say tiredly.

"But what if we never do, Danielle? What if we're on our own?"