I'm Not Yours

13. Emotional

"This secret is risky so we have to keep all these fantasies to ourselves...All this self-control is so emotional."

I never thought being on a motorcycle would hurt so much.

Bucky is being as careful as he can but being on a bike means using your torso to keep from falling off, something that is proving to be very difficult when half of your torso is pretty banged up.

Every turn brings pain to my side and as much as I'm trying to keep it in control I can't help slightly gripping Bucky's jacket tighter. I don't know if he's noticing since I was doing that yesterday before I was injured. After all this is only my second day of being on a motorcycle. And I honestly don't love it. Luckily the location Nat gave us is a nearby hangar where a few agents from back home brought a quinjet for us while they stay here and do some damage control.

We get to a red stop light and I let out a breath, feeling like I can relax for just a second. I see Bucky's head turn slightly to the side, as if to check that I'm okay. Then his hand shifts back and he places it on my thigh. He gives it a gentle squeeze before rubbing up and down, comforting me. He knows I'm hurting. I work up a little courage and run my hands along his torso before wrapping them around him again. I feel his chest expand with a deep breath, and then the light turns green and his attention goes back to the road.

This is all so confusing. I don't know what I can and can't do. Because he reacts differently to things. And then I know he's going through other things so I can't always assume his reaction is about me. But if I don't assume then I risk crossing a line. We may have established boundaries at the beginning of this but we sure as hell haven't fully kept to them.

But I suppose that's the problem.

We get to the location and pull into the parking lot. Bucky jumps off and then carefully helps me down without causing too much pain.

"I never got a chance to ask you," I say once we're both off. "Where did you get this bike from?"

"Stole it off the street." he says, way too casually.

"What?!"

He chuckles at my outburst. "Relax, they'll make sure it makes its way back to its owner."

Right on cue some agents come up, taking the bike from Bucky and guiding it away. I can't help but wonder how often they have to do this. Do they just go up to the owner and say "Sorry an Avenger needed it." Or do they leave it somewhere so that the cops can find it when it gets reported missing? I hope it's the former option, that way the owner can at least know the bike was used for good.

"Cali! Bucky!" we hear as we walk towards the hangar. In front of us we see Steve running towards us. And seeing him just brings this wave of relief. I pick up my pace as best as I can, which is only enough to put myself a few steps in front of Bucky. Steve opens his arms up once he's close enough, his intentions clear.

"Wait–"

Bucky doesn't get a chance to finish his warning before Steve has his arms around me. And despite the fact that I'm willing to push past the pain in order to stay in his embrace, I can't control the small groan of pain I let out when he squeezes me.

He immediately lets me go and steps away. "Oh my god I'm sorry." he says, looking at me with a bit of confusion. Considering I lied to him about my injuries I can't blame him for not knowing.

"It's fine." I say, despite the fact that I have to try and catch my breath after the impact.

"Her left side is all bruised up. It's going to be really tender right now." Bucky says, looking sympathetic and still a little guilty.