Stranger Who Knows All My Secrets [A Marvel FanFic]

Chapter 37: Familiarity Principle

★ NSFW!! 18+ ONLY ★

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Bucky woke up in a state of blissful confusion, butt naked and with his face pressed to the soft area rug while the smell of eggs, bacon, and nicotine filled his nose. He let out a groan as he rolled onto his back to look up at the ceiling only to find Elena sitting on the couch a mere foot away with a lit cigarette perfectly balanced between her fingers and staring at him wide-eyed like he was the most evocative and delicious thing she'd ever seen.

It admittedly took him a moment to gather himself but when the reality of the previous night set in quicker than he could process, Bucky bolted upright in absolute horror and with a killer hangover that had him screeching. Elena, who was dressed in jean shorts and a sports bra, just stared at him with a cocked eyebrow, popping a handful of almonds into her mouth and chasing them with a drag of the cigarette. 

She looked like every femme fatale in every detective movie he'd ever seen.

Elena acted like one too, not saying a damn thing, just staring, eyes locked with his before they traveled down his body and stopped so obviously at his junk which had her blinking in bewilderment and taking another long pull on the cancer stick in her hand.

Bucky didn't like her new demeanor, it unnerved him and he frantically began looking for his briefs which had somehow managed to find their way behind her television. He avoided looking at her, cupping a hand over his family jewels so she wouldn't keep ogling them while he got to his feet and reclaimed his underwear, jumping into them as fast as he could.

Elena seemed insistent on not being the first one to speak, remaining voiceless and simply pointing to the sandwich on the coffee table she had gotten him from the deli after he reclaimed some of his dignity. He ate in embarrassment and silence while sitting on the floor across from her as she continued to inhale fumes.

It was an odd sight, mainly because Bucky had never seen Elena smoke before. She never partook in any of the blunts Sam and Natasha would roll on long nights out, never accepted Tony's offers for a celebratory cigar or bum a cigarette off of Rhodey who had begun to light up as a way to cope with the stress of being in charge of an unruly band of superheroes.

Yet there Elena was, sitting on her couch, letting out clouds like a chimney even in the oppressive heat of the blackout. Bucky ate his breakfast in quiet contemplation, trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do now that they had done it and becoming concerned when Elena tossed her spent cigarette into her coffee mug only to then grabbed another out of a brand-new pack of LD Red 100s which were missing two, now three sticks.

Bucky really wanted to say something about it, her newfound chainsmoking was alarming, to say the least, but for some reason, he found himself unable to open his mouth and make words come out. Their actions from the previous night kept replaying in his head like an unwanted pop-up on his computer that he couldn't close out no matter how many times he clicked the little x in the corner of the window.

The day had gone from fine to out of control at a breakneck speed. How the hell did they go from sitting out on the fire escape to fucking like heathens on the living room floor? Bucky debated blaming it entirely on the firewater, to say both of them were too drunk to understand what they were doing. He wanted to blame the firewater but he knew Elena would never believe that it was just the alcohol.

It wasn't some regular run-of-the-mill quickie. 

In fact, Elena, despite her intoxicated state, had done something special for him; she made Bucky feel wanted for all that he was. Sure, the alcohol made it easier for him to let loose, it made saying yes easier for both of them but it didn't rule them. They had both given each other so many chances to stop, to put a halt to everything and back out, and yet neither of them did.