𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼 [1]

15. {Breakfast With the Enemy}

The next morning, you wake to find yourself alone in bed. The warmth of the sheets and the lingering scent of Bucky on the pillow beside you bring a small smile to your lips. You stretch, muscles pleasantly sore from the night before, and glance around the room. Bucky's absence is noticeable but not alarming; it feels like a calm before the inevitable chaos of the day.

Rising from the bed, you spot one of Bucky's shirts discarded on a nearby chair. You slip it on, the fabric soft against your skin. It hangs loosely, the scent of him wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. With no clothes of your own nearby, it's a welcome find.

You wander out into the main living area, the apartment quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. Bucky is still nowhere to be seen. The clothes you both had hastily discarded last night are still on the floor near the kitchen counter, a testament to the urgency of your passion.

As you gather up the clothes, you can't help but smile at the memory of last night. The boundaries that once kept you and Bucky apart had been thoroughly shattered, replaced by an undeniable connection. You wander around the apartment, your curiosity piqued.

You've never had the chance to explore his place before. The space is surprisingly neat, with touches that speak to Bucky's personality – a stack of well-worn books on the coffee table, a few framed photos of friends and places, a jacket casually draped over the back of a chair.

You continue to snoop around the apartment, taking in every detail. A framed photo on the mantle catches your eye – it's Bucky with Steve Rogers, both of them grinning widely, arms slung around each other's shoulders. The sight of it makes you smile.

As you move to the bookshelf, you notice an eclectic collection of books, ranging from history to modern fiction. One book in particular stands out – a worn copy of "The Great Gatsby." You pick it up, thumbing through the pages. It's clear it's been read many times, the spine creased and pages dog-eared.

In the kitchen, you find a few sticky notes on the fridge, reminders for groceries or appointments. One in particular catches your eye: "Call Sam back." It's mundane and domestic, a stark contrast to the intensity of last night.

Minutes tick by, and you start to wonder where Bucky might be. You walk to the window, looking out over the city. The morning sun casts a warm glow over the buildings, and for a moment, you lose yourself in the view.

The sound of keys in the lock pulls you from your reverie. The apartment door swings open, and Bucky steps inside, looking slightly haphazard with his tousled hair and clothes thrown on in a hurry. He's carrying two coffees and a brown bag that can only contain breakfast.

He freezes for a moment, seeing you standing by the window in his shirt, and a slow, genuine smile spreads across his face. "Morning," he says, his voice warm and a bit rough. He closes the door, now looking a little awkward, "I uh, I didn't expect you to be up yet," he admits, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

You raise an eyebrow curiously. "I didn't expect you to be the sort to bring breakfast," you retort, hesitant but with a hint of teasing in your tone.

He rolls his eyes, but there's a twinkle of amusement in them. "I'm not," he answers with an added shrug, stepping into the kitchen and setting the coffees and brown bag on the counter. "But I figured after last night, it was the least I could do."

You follow him, leaning against the counter as he unpacks the bag, revealing an assortment of pastries and a couple of breakfast sandwiches. He hands you one of the coffees, and you take it with a grateful smile, the warmth of the cup seeping into your hands.

"So, you're a breakfast person now?" you ask, taking a sip of the coffee. It's strong and just the way you like it.

Bucky shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Let's just say I'm trying something new," he replies, his eyes meeting yours. There's a vulnerability there, a glimpse of the man behind the hardened exterior.