The World Keeps Changing

Chapter 19

He looked up at me again and I watched his eyes fill with hope. "God, yes," he breathed. He reached up and I bent down to wrap my arms around his neck. He gathered me up in his arms, lifting me and sitting back in the armchair. He settled me in his lap, holding me tight, our faces buried against each other's necks. He rubbed my back and stroked my arm, muttering a litany of apology against my skin.

I drowned myself in the scent of his skin, the warmth of him, the strength of his arms and hands holding me, the sound of his voice. "I missed you so much, Buck," I murmured.

"Oh, sweetheart..." He pulled back, taking my face in his hands. His thumbs stroked wet across my face, tears I didn't know I was crying. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for hurting you. I was just punishing myself, I got inside my own head. I convinced myself I'd been using you, or that you just felt bad for me. That I didn't deserve being close to you, for who I am, what I've done, and then for being an ass, so I shouldn't beg you for forgiveness, and it just fed on itself the longer it went. I still won't ask for you to forgive me for hurting you, I just need you to understand how sorry I am."

I rested my forehead on his. "James Buchanan Barnes, you're a goddamn fool."

"I am," he answered fervently.

I huffed out a sobbing laugh.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled into my neck again "Your fool," he whispered so quietly I'm sure he didn't intend for me to hear. My breath hitched and he froze. He squeezed me tighter with a little groan.

I took a deep breath. "Do I pretend I didn't hear that, or do we need to have a second talk tonight?"

"No." He looked at me again. "I'm not apologizing because I want something from you. I want to show you I'm trying. Give you time to decide for yourself. "

"Okay."

"Okay."

I snuggled back into him, we sat quietly for a while. "Did you have a nightmare, too?" I finally asked.

"Just haven't been sleeping worth a damn," he answered against my neck, and I tried to ignore what lay between those lines, or the way his body felt smaller and harder than I remembered. How before he had more bulk through his chest and shoulders and thighs, and enough body fat to give a little softness when I curled into him. "Came down to steal some of Bruce's tea blend. I like what you did with it this time."

"I wondered what had been happening to it." I chuckled. "I can make you some." I shifted to get up.

He stopped me, catching my legs and pulling them back in his lap. "No," he said, nuzzling my cheek, "this is better." He idly rubbed his thumb over my kneecap. "What about you? More nightmares lately?"

"Some. This one was just... intense." I rested my head on his shoulder. "I almost had a full panic attack this afternoon when you all came home. It was the smell. I guess my brain decided I needed to have one tonight regardless."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..." I wrapped an arm around him again and smiled into his neck. "This is better."

He chuckled and I felt his cool metal fingers against my scalp. I sighed in contentment against him.

My project had somehow not fallen out of my lap in the whole process, and he fingered the soft, extra chunky yarn in purple, green and charcoal delicately. "What are you working on now?"

"A bedspread for Hulk. He doesn't have a blanket big enough for his bed, or just him for that matter. His feet always stick out, even with the Comfort Quilt."